Dashyl's Journey: The Beginning

In the morning, Dashyl was up with first light preparing a rucksack of essentials for the journey: hard breads, dried fruits, nuts, a small rain shelter and sleeping bag, flint and wool for starting fires, fish hooks and line, and a small shovel. Lastly, he packed the pouch of small saffira stones Alerial had given him to sell. With that money, he could buy passage home on an airship from Trader’s Haunt. But Trader’s Haunt was a dangerous place full of thieves and vagabonds. Dashyl unpacked his rucksack so he could put the pouch of stones deep in the bottom of his sleeping bag. He then slid his knife from the venomist into its sheath on his belt and threw his cape over his shoulders.

Finished with his packing, Dashyl sat with Alerial as they ate their morning meal. “Eat as much as you can," said the blue-skinned healer. "You never know when you’ll get another hot meal once you leave my house.”

“I went a long time without a proper meal before you brought me here. I can do it again,” Dashyl said, sitting up straighter in his seat. Alerial smiled and nodded as he dished Dashyl more of the thick paste they ate every day. “I won’t miss your cooking,” snickered the orphan.

“I won’t miss your appetite. You’ve eaten half my supply for the winter!”

“I’m a growing boy. Besides, you brought me here, you took responsibility,” Dashyl retorted.

“That’s true. I will miss our repartee. Your wit is beyond your years, young Dashyl.”

Dashyl considered Alerial’s compliment as he swallowed his last mouthful, “I’m full.”

“Good. It is time for you to start your journey home. But before you go, I have something for you.”

“Ooh, a parting gift?” Dashyl said, expectantly wringing his fingers together.

“Well, a gift, you could say, but one that you may decide not to open.”

“Huh?” Dashyl questioned with crinkled eyebrows as Alerial disappeared into his bedroom and returned with what looked like an old weathered book.

“What is that?” Dashyl asked, unsure why he wouldn’t want to open a book. His mother and father had taught him to read and gave him many books he loved that retold the old legends of the Sarion journey through space to Rynaga. “Maybe it’s a book of scary stories,” he thought, “but no story can scare me.”

“This is your father’s expedition journal,” Alerial said as he handed it to Dashyl.

The boy’s eyes grew wide. His mouth dropped open. He looked from Alerial to the book and back. “How…”

“I found it among your father’s possessions after his death.”

Alerial was right, Dashyl did not want to open it.

“I read the journal while you were in your saffira sleep. I skimmed the first part and then picked a random day to start reading. I went back a few entries after that and then read to the end. Your father has written some things in there you may not want to know right now, but I am giving it you now so you may have it and you may make the choice yourself to know some of your father’s darker secrets.”