The Fareid

I'm finally back. I really do have a prologue now, and I'm making small - theoretically, anyway - edits as I go (currently through chapter 2), which will hopefully tighten up and clarify the story. I am doing my best to make changes as per the reviews I got last year as well. I'm afraid my hopes regarding posting of new material were way off base. I'm leaving for camp and updates will have to wait til late July.

Prologue

“...and so Emrys, Lord of Light, banished the Dark Lord, Rath’hynwr, to the realms of death,” concluded the storyteller. The attentive children and adults clapped and cheered to express their appreciation of his skill. Parents with toddlers and babes in arms began to peel off from the group gathered round the communal fire.

“Tell the story of the founding of the kingdom,” piped up an eager-eyed eight year old. Others chimed their agreement. The storyteller held his hands up with an air of defeat.

“Now keep in mind, children, that’s it’s not really a kingdom, because we haven’t a king. What we have is a clan leader, a Farwyr. Can anyone tell me his name?”

“Glyndwyr!” called a young girl.

“That’s right. And now I’ll tell you all the story of the first Farwyr, from whose name the title is derived. Many generations ago, our clan lived in a different place…

“There came a time of famine, and, at Farwyr’s bidding, all the Seers worked their hardest to find a place to go. At last one found a land without compare, and the clan came here…

“Farwyr negotiated with our neighbors in the kingdom of Rathgard. He arranged for the clan’s future by purchasing more land from them than was dreamed we’d ever need. In time, though, villages were founded farther and farther from the central city, Emfariod…

“Farwyr spent many years building roads and public works, writing laws, and solving the peoples’ disputes. Near the end of his life, he abdicated his position and lived happily until the end of his days.”

The storytelling over for the night, the group dissolved quickly. Only a small cluster of adults remained, conversing in hushed voices.

“More land than we’d ever need, eh?” one woman demanded shrilly. “Obviously Farwyr didn’t look centuries ahead to now, when our circle overlaps with that of Rathgard.”

“We all know they want us out of their land,” a man added. “It’s only a matter of time before they resort to force. They are a people of warriors, after all, and we are primarily farmers and artisans. What’s the good of being led by an elite ruling warrior class if there aren’t enough of them to defend us?”

*          *          *

Part I: Mission

1: Vision

Kirna lay on her back in the meadow, staring up at the clouds, which were as fleecy as the sheep she was tending. She could hear the jingling of their bells as they wandered around the meadow grazing. A chill wind blew, ruffling her long, curly auburn hair and causing the tall grass bent heavy with grain to sway. A straying cloud blew across the sun; Kirna shivered and pulled her warm, woolen cloak closer about her. She began to sit up, but heard the murmur of voices. They came not from without, but from within, heralding a Vision. She lay back down, and her clear blue eyes became misted and unfocused as the Sight clasped her tightly in its grip.

"She is the one," said a voice harshly.

"But what of her family?" inquired a second voice. With this Kirna’s glimpse became a full-blown Vision. What she saw astonished her. She was gazing at the chief of her clan, the Farwyr, dressed royally in embroidered indigo linen, his dark hair blowing in the wind. The vision grew foggy as several emotions passed over his face.

Unseen by Kirna, Glyndwyr’s green eyes were glinting with rage at the compassion of his son. For Glyndwyr knew that a ruler cannot afford such compassion. For years he had fostered a feeling of indifference in his son Taelnwyr, but to no avail. The boy would go on so about the wants and needs of the people. And Taelnwyr was hardly a boy anymore. Glyndwyr couldn’t help but notice with pride at how much Taelnwyr was growing to resemble him. Except the eyes; he detested that gray color.

At last the vision grew clear again, and this time Kirna could see the Farwyr’s companion. He was a handsome young man who looked much like Glyndwyr, except that his eyes were gray instead of green. Kirna knew him at once for the Farwyr’s son, Taelnwyr. Glyndwyr spoke again, and Kirna listened closely.

"The family doesn’t matter. Only the survival of the clan matters. This girl who possesses the Sight may be the only person who can take the clan across the River to safety, far from the raiders. Colin and Thom have already been sent to fetch her…"

Abruptly, the trance-like state that gripped Kirna ended, and she woke with a start and catapulted to her feet. Me, she thought, they were talking about me. Those men are coming to make me lead the clan across, across… Oh, Emrys, Lord of Light, they will make me lead the clan across the River of your rival Rath’hynwr, the Dark Lord. Rath’hynwr… She mouthed the name with fear, dread. “Emrys, lord, grant me the strength to aid my people,” she whispered as she walked among the sheep, stroking their backs for comfort.

*          *          *

2: Farewell

Kirna returned to her village earlier than usual that evening. After leaving the sheep in the fold, she hurried to her family’s hut. She stood in the center of the dirt floor and slowly turned as she surveyed the room. There was her parents' bed, her brother's cradle set snugly in a nook nearby. The cots she and her sister used were stored beneath the bed for the day. The other side of the room contained the hearth, the oven, and the kitchenware. Against the far wall, a carefully hidden trapdoor sheltered a secret chamber below the hut; if completed in time, it would serve to save the children from raiders. Kirna shook herself out of her reverie, then she began to pack her things, under the pretense of cleaning the hut and preparing supper.

Kirna began by sweeping the hut; Emrys forbid she should put bread on to bake and then cover it with dust. She built up a roaring fire in the hearth and shaped into two loaves the dough her mother had left rising in a cloth-covered bowl. These she set on the hearthstones, and they were soon accompanied by several slowly roasting potatoes. Over the fire she hung a cauldron filled with water to boil.

She strode over to the sleeping area to straighten up the beds, then pulled her satchel out from under the cot. She left her herding clothes, shirt, tunic, and leggings, on and packed both her dresses: the faded, too short everyday one and the newly-made one for special occasions. Only Emrys knew if she would need it. Quickly she added undergarments, a wooden comb, a waterskin, a blanket, and some emergency provisions. Finished with her packing, she placed the satchel back under the cot.

Kirna crossed back to the kitchen side of the hut to set the table, dust the mantle, and finally put the cabbage in the boiling water to cook. In no time at all, or so it seemed, Kirna was calling her family to dinner, which they ate silently as usual.

Her family had just finished eating when two horsemen reined up in front of the hut, dismounted, and entered without knocking. “Where is the girl who is possessed of the Sight?” one demanded loudly. Kirna’s baby brother Colm began to cry and their mother tried in vain to shush him.

Kirna stood up and replied with dignity, “I’m right here, gentlemen; there’s no need to come barging in with nary a by-your-leave. If you’d be so kind as to wait outside, I need a few minutes to gather my things and say goodbye to my family.”

Not quite realizing she already knew the reason for their appearance, they complied. Kirna retrieved her cloak and satchel from hook and under cot. Then she hurriedly told her parents of her vision as Colm hiccoughed and gazed at her, waving his chubby fists.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” Kirna’s mother said as she kissed her daughter goodbye. “We’ll follow as soon as we can,” she stated as she looked to her husband, who nodded. “But I want you to have this…” She handed Colm to her younger daughter Lorna, who was just entering adolescence and learning to focus her budding Sight. Then she took her bronze torque from around her neck, and placed it on Kirna’s. Kirna knew the focus, which had been passed down from mother to daughter since time immemorial, should go to Lorna, whose newly arrived gift was nowhere near as strong as her own. She tried to protest, but her mother put a finger to Kirna’s lips and shut the clasp of her cloak. “Mind you keep it covered for now,” she warned, “You are still younger than many will respect, and there may be those that would try to take it from you before you can prove yourself. Go now. Emrys bless, my daughter.”

“Emrys bless,” echoed Lorna, and swiftly pressed a ceramic blue bead into Kirna’s hand before their father led Kirna outside.

“Now, gentlemen, I am ready to accompany you to the capital city, Emfariod,” announced Kirna to the already mounted men. “Which of you will be sharing your horse with me?”

“I will. The name’s Colin. Climb on up, girl.”

Kirna put her satchel in a saddle bag, then backed up and took a flying leap into the saddle. Colin and Thom were clearly surprised, but Kirna could see the twinkle in her father’s eye. “Goodbye, Papi,” she called, and waved as the horses began to trot down the road. Once he was out of sight, she squared her shoulders toward the path.

*          *          *

3: Emfariod

Kirna gazed at the city in wonder; none of her Visions had shown her Emfariod in all its splendor. How it seemed to glimmer. And it was so busy! On the outskirts, they had passed shabbily dressed people walked back and forth in front of rows of houses tightly packed together. They quickly outdistanced a villager carrying loads of produce to market. Soon they arrived at the marketplace itself, as evidenced by the loud din and the large, jostling crowd. A horse-drawn cart rattled by on Kirna’s left; a fishmonger announced his presence and the delicacy of his wares on her right. Do they know we have to leave? she wondered. They sure don’t act like it.

As they left the marketplace behind, a warrior in the Farwyr’s livery rode up to them. “Orders have changed,” he said. “You’re to take the girl straight to Glyndwyr.”

“Yes, sir, right away,” replied Colin. “Is the Farwyr to be found in the usual place?” The liveried warrior nodded gravely. “Right, then. We’re off.” With that, he set his horse to a quick trot. Thom followed.

They were streaking past larger and larger buildings, and, within a few minutes, they had stopped in front of the largest building Kirna had ever seen. Once they had dismounted, Colin handed his reins to Thom and began to walk toward the building. Kirna grabbed her satchel from the saddlebag and jogged after him.

*          *          *

4: Council

Colin stopped in front of a hanging rug which served as the door of the council room. Kirna heard someone say, “But, Father, why must we leave so many of our people …” The voice was quickly hushed, but after the necessary amount of time for Kirna to identify the speaker as Taelnwyr. Colin swiftly pulled aside the hanging rug and motioned to Kirna that she should enter before him. She did so, and then looked around.

It was a small room, barely eight feet square, and the dark-colored wall hangings only made it seem smaller. The only light source was a cluster of five tallow candles on a shoulder-high pedestal in the center of the room.

The Farwyr looked up. Kirna met his gaze after a moment’s hesitation. “So,” said Glyndwyr, “this is the girl.” Colin nodded, and Kirna curtsied with a slightly condescending look on her face. “Well, we have a lot of work to do; we must leave in the next few days, once the fall harvest is in. Therefore, we’d best be brief. What’s your name, child?”

“I am called Kirna, m’lord, and I am no child. I shall be seventeen years of age on Emnadir, the winter solstice”

“Well, Kirna, lady of Emnadir, the situation is this: we expect raiders to arrive any time now, and we must leave as soon as possible. We will not be able to gather the folk of all the farthest villages, perhaps including your own. You must help us cross the River. My son will likely comfort you on your potential loss, as I must now see to the preparations. Adieu, lady,” and with a half bow, he exited, followed by Colin.

“Oh, Kirna, I’m so sorry about your fam-” began Taelnwyr, but was cut off by Kirna.

“Please,” she requested. “I appreciate your sympathy, but I’d really rather not think about the issue at all. It might bring on a vision of their deaths. Traumatic thoughts can bring on related visions, you know.” Taelnwyr’s face fell; he had obviously forgotten about her Sight. “I would rather have your aid. This city is new to me. Would you give me a tour?” Taelnwyr’s expression brightened, and he gladly acted upon her suggestion.

*          *          *

5: Departure

Finally came the day when the harvest was in and all preparations had been made. People scurried to and fro doing last minute chores and finding neglected belongings. Glyndwyr and his trusted advisers walked along the line of heavily loaded wagon, making folk leave behind many bulky items of purely sentimental value.

At the front of the column, Kirna was mounted on a large, chestnut mare named Suah that had been given to her. Kirna's back fairly curved into a "C", as she was tired from the days of working in the fields. She resolutely straightened her back, holding her head high. She turned the mare around to face down the line, and saw Taelnwyr darting among those whose possessions had been rejected, apparently finding ways for the travelers to take some of their surplus items.

He is kind of sweet, Kirna grudgingly admitted to herself. Maybe we’ll get to a place where a compassionate Farwyr will be beneficial to the clan. I certainly hope so, for the clan’s sake and his. She sighed and shook her head slightly, then turned Suah again to face the path.

Glyndwyr and his advisers returned to the front of the column and gave the signal to move out. Taelnwyr was still assisting the commoners, and did not reach the front for at least half and hour.

For a long time, all the travelers would hear was the jingling of harness, the crack of whips, and the creak of wagon wheels. They would smell only the pungent sweat of horse and ox, and they would see only the long road ahead of them.

*          *          *

6: Inspiration

After five long days of traveling as fast as possible, the refugees reached the River. It was mid-afternoon, and the sky was overcast by dark clouds. The River was turbulent, and fairly flew within its banks. Kirna heaved a sigh. How will I get my people across this? she mused.

Taelnwyr, riding beside her, heard the sigh, and gave her an encouraging smile. She turned away, and as her gaze fell upon the wagons behind them, she gasped. She quickly turned back to Taelnwyr.

“Taelnwyr! The wagons! Are they watertight?”

“I, I believe so,” he stammered. “Is that important?”

“Oh, exceedingly,” Kirna replied. “If they’re watertight, then they’ll float, and the horses and oxen could simply pull them across if the River weren’t quite so deep or fast. Right now, I need you to find out about the wagons. And please send someone to build a small fire, and have Colin find me a person with an instrument they can play.”

Taelnwyr rode off as soon as she finished speaking. Kirna dismounted and led Suah a little way apart from the wagons clustered near the River’s bank. She looped the mare’s reins around a tree branch, and sat down to think and meditate.

*          *          *

7: Plea and Omen

A little boy with blond hair and blue eyes walked up to Kirna with a wooden flute in hand. He looked to be about six years old.

“You wanted music, lady?” he inquired.

“Yes, thank you. I’d like something high and airy,” answered Kirna. “Once the fire has been built, you may begin playing.”

Thom arrived and built the fire; the little boy began to play Greensleeves. Kirna sat tailor-style, facing the flames, and hummed along with the melody. Presently, she began to sing:

Oh, Emrys, Lord, I pray to Thee,
With Thy dominion of the Light.
Restrain the Dark Lord, for we have need,
I pray Thee to relieve our plight.

Emrys, Lord of Light,
Thy people are in grave need of Thee.
Calm the waters for this night,
That we from the raiders mayst flee.

Kirna fell silent; the boy played one more stanza, then followed suit. He moved as if to speak, but Kirna motioned him to be silent. They sat motionless for several minutes.

All of a sudden, the fire flared up to the height of a grown man; in the flames, invisible to all others, Kirna could see floating wagons drawn by horses reach the far shore in safety. The figures faded away completely, and there came a bolt of lightning along way off, followed by a loud clap of thunder.

A commotion was raised in the camp; a baby began to wail. Kirna thought for a moment of little Colm, then pushed the fruitless thought out of her mind. She thought instead, of the signs sent by Emrys in answer to her plea: He has sent the flare, the vision, the lightning, and the thunder. My people can safely cross the River this evening.

The firelight danced across Kirna’s face, revealing the roundness and innocence of youth, the gentleness and compassion she tried so hard not to feel or show, and the utter exhaustion that would soon dominate her.

*          *          *

8: Crossing

The sun was setting by the time the water was low enough to cross. Glyndwyr and his advisers herded the people back to their wagons and into some semblance of a line. Mounted warriors were spread out along it. Each warrior held a lit torch, and had stowed several more in their packs.

Kirna and Glyndwyr led the way, posting torchbearers all the way across the River. There were more squads set at intervals throughout the line to replace them. Once Kirna and Glyndwyr were across, they gave their mounts to a groom, and stood on the bank while the people crossed. Glyndwyr gave up after an hour and a half, but Kirna stuck it out. She was relieved to see Taelnwyr and the last squad of warriors bringing up the rear shortly before midnight.

Taelnwyr reached down and pulled Kirna up in front of him. She was too tired to protest. He set his horse to a trot, and in a matter of minutes, they reached the main group of refugees. Taelnwyr found an unoccupied tent; Kirna gratefully entered it. As soon as her head touched the down pillow within, she was asleep. Taelnwyr gently placed a quilt on top of her, then stationed himself outside the tent to keep intruders from entering, and prepared himself for a long night.

*          *          *


Part II: Loss

9: Scent of Smoke

Taelnwyr was beginning to drift off to sleep, but became alert once again as he heard Kirna toss and turn within the tent. Soon, she settled again, and Taelnwyr assumed she was only dreaming. He took a swig of water from a flask, then gave up on the idea of standing guard all night. He set himself before the opening of the tent in such a way that none could enter without waking him. Apparently he had some success at making himself comfortable, as well, since he soon arrived in a blissful state of sleep.

Kirna’s sleep, however, was not blissful. She had hoped she was only caught in a dream, but soon she knew that the Sight had taken her again. The scent of smoke and burning flesh made it obvious.

In her field of vision lay her village, the 12 little huts nestled cozily together, and the thatch on fire! Acrid smoke billowed from the roofs and around and under the woven rugs which served as doors. Raiders wandered through the village, long blond hair adorned with bones and feathers trailing behind them.

The vision followed one of them beyond the array of huts. The raider disappeared behind a bush, and the vision rotated to show the trampled remains of a garden. Herbs were crumpled, smashed into the ground which had been churned to mud. Not far off, Kirna’s former charges were backed into a corner of their pen, bleating with fear at the sight of the gigantic men who had come to menace them.

The raiders were clearly arguing, though in a language that Kirna could not understand. Eventually, the leader, who wore a necklace of the teeth of humans and fierce predators, motioned for one raider to go back to the cluster of huts, apparently to round up the stragglers.

Back among the huts, the raider stalked off, and Kirna saw the rug which served as the door of her family’s hut pulled aside slightly by a small hand. She was ecstatic; the secret chamber in the floor had been enlarged enough that Lorna could fit in with Colm after all! Lorna's slim, oval face peered furtively through the slit, but her eyes grew round with fear and her face disappeared again as the sound of the raiders grew louder. Eventually the ruckus died away as the raiders moved on to another village.

The hand reappeared at the doorway, and Lorna emerged with Colm at her hip and a bag of salvaged possessions at her side. She then turned and re-entered the hut; this time she brought out the charred corpses of their parents. Her expression was rigid with shock as she began gathering rocks with which to cover them. Her steps began to falter as reality sunk in; her breathing came in ragged gasps. She fell to her knees, tears streaming from her eyes. Little Colm toddled around on his own, not understanding what had occurred. The vision faded, and Kirna woke, sobbing and calling out for her parents.

Taelnwyr awakened to her cry, and rushed blindly into the tent. He flung himself down at her side, and gathered her into his arms. “Kirna, are you all right?” he asked softly.

“N-no,” Kirna finally managed between sobs. “My village – it really was, or will be, attacked by the raiders. My parents are dead; of the entire village, only Colm and Lorna escaped with their live. I should have stayed. I could have saved them,” Kirna wailed, and wept on Taelnwyr’s shoulder.

“Now you are the one forgetting the rules of the Sight,” he scolded mildly. “Once a vision is given, its events are fixed and cannot be altered.” At once he regretted his words, for Kirna cried even harder. He could feel how the sobs wracked her thin body. For the moment, he would have to be content with cradling the trembling form of the clan’s savior, the woman with whom he was falling in love.

*          *          *

10: Dilemmas

Pale rays of false dawn's light crept into the tent, accompanied by morning birdsong. Kirna stirred, and woke to find herself in the circle of Taelnwyr's arms. She blushed as she recalled the most recent events of the previous night. She extricated herself from Taelnwyr's embrace, being careful not to wake him. Her memory delved further into the past; her jaw trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. Hastily, she wiped the salty tears from her face and dried her hands on her leggings.

Kirna emerged from the tent, blinking, and adjusted the placement of her cloak. She quickly surveyed the lay of the camp, and set out to retrace the path from the River. On the outskirts of the camp, she was stopped by a sentry. Having assured him that she would not go as far as the River, and that she would return before camp was broken, Kirna continued on her way.

Soon she found a game trail, and followed it into a clearing. A little stream meandered through it, and the grassy glade was free of the choking undergrowth which filled the surrounding forest. Kirna settled herself beneath a sheltering oak whose few remaining leaves danced high above her head. Kirna rested her head comfortably against the trunk, and let her thoughts run their course.

Maybe this walk was just what I needed so I can think this whole situation through calmly and rationally. The situation - my parents are dead! Kirna's hand darted to her throat, where her mother's bronze torque glistened serenely. Mother's torque! She must have known this was coming, she must have Seen it. That's why the chamber got so much farther along, she knew it would be needed. Now that it has served its purpose, poor little Lorna must somehow get herself and Colm past the raiders! Oh, how I wish there were some way I could help them.

Hot, salty tears, born of fear for her siblings and the knowledge that she could not help them, flooded down Kirna's face. I can't turn back now, I have to stay with the clan to let them know about any danger a vision might warn me of. But Lorna and Colm! No, no I must calm down. The driving force behind the tears turned to self-pity: I can't get myself under control. I'll have a vision of their deaths. What am I to do? I must escape from myself...

As Kirna grew more and more flustered, a tendril of thought crept to the front of her mind; it was visual rather than verbal, showing a peaceful stream that flowed along its bed. Kirna exhaled heavily, and the tears slowed, then stopped. Urgent thoughts of her siblings struggled vainly to take her attention, but Kirna grimaced, breathed deeply, slammed up a wall of willpower, and suppressed them.

Another thought tried even more desperately, and somehow managed to get past her guard. As for Taelnwyr, he's been so nice to me. The whole time I've known him, really, but especially the last day or so, what with him giving me a ride from the River, finding me a tent, and comforting me after my vision. She tried valiantly to eject these thoughts from her mind, but they refused to leave. And that last, well, being held by him felt...NO. I may have the Sight, but I'm still just a commoner and he is to be the next Farwyr. With a final mental shove, Kirna expelled the thought from her mind.

Resolving to let the matter drop completely, Kirna climbed to her feet and stretched. She was surprised to see that true dawn had arrived, the sky painted in vivid colors. Hastily, she ran back along the game trail to the path the clan had followed from the River. She halted in front of the sentry, who chided her mildly as she momentarily gasped for breath.

Kirna walked slowly as she re-entered the camp, taking in the scent of sweetly spiced porridge and frying bacon and hen's eggs. She threaded her way among the campfires, finally reaching the spot where the tent where she had spent the night had been. She shrugged, and helped a warrior dismantle a nearby tent, then wandered off to find some breakfast and her mare.

*          *          *

11: Skulker-Gatherers

Grass stalks heavy with grain quivered in the slight breeze. Aspens waved their leaves as if to bid the day goodbye. The sky was tinted red and purple as the sun slowly sank below the horizon.

In the high meadow where sheep had grazed only days earlier, Lorna glanced up from her flying fingers and heaved a deep sigh. She had spent the last two days salvaging all she could from the smoldering remains of the village. Luckily she knew a bit of the healer's art and had made a sedative of valerian root to keep Colm from crying, which could have drawn trouble their way.

After an exhaustive search of village, fields, and surrounding forest, just enough had been yielded to meet the needs of the two young children. When they had hidden in the hole in the hut, they had had a blanket, a change of clothes, one sack of grain, one sack of vegetables, various cooking implements, a cloak for Lorna, a wrap for Colm, some dried mutton jerky and salted fish, and the slingshot which Lorna was beginning to master. Lorna's search had added a firestone and flint, another blanket, another sack of grain, a bundle of herbs, and the miller's mule, which she found hiding deep in the woods. Lorna had spent that afternoon hurriedly weaving panniers of reeds to place on the mule's back.

Lorna looked back at the pannier and finished tying off the rim. She rose, stretched, and walked into the shepherd's hut to check on Colm and the herbs drying over the smoky fire. She gnawed on a bit of jerky, then banked the fire. As she rolled herself into her blanket and drifted off to sleep, her last conscious thought was tomorrow we'll follow the path of the clan.



Lorna woke shivering; she had kicked the blanket off during the night. She stuck her head out the door of the hut, taking in the crisp air of an autumn dawn and the accompanying birdsong. Back inside, she bustled about making porridge and watering some down to gruel for Colm. She ate her fill hastily, then patted the leftovers into cakes and fried them.

When Colm woke, Lorna fed him his gruel, laced with powdered valerian root.* She washed the dishes and packed the panniers while he toddled about the hut. At last she loaded the panniers onto the mule, hiked a yawning Colm up on her hip, and released the far end of the mule's tether. She began to lead the mule down the path to the village, then turned onto the main road, filled with the footprints of the raiders.

An hour along, Lorna spied some wild carrots a ways into the woods. She made her way towards them, still leading the mule. When she reached them, she put Colm on his wrap on the ground, and the mule lay down. Lorna knelt to pull the carrots and none too soon. Around a bend in the trail came a pair of raiders. Lorna waited quietly until they had passed, then thanked Emrys for her narrow escape. She vowed to be more vigilant.

(Author's Note: I have no idea how the valerian root is supposed to be prepared, but it IS used as a sedative.)

*          *          *

More notes, just cause I can: I've gone through so many names for the capital city, most of which are clearly taken (at least partially) from other mythologies (Emrys stays, regardless). Tir N'a Nog was just too blatant, though probably my own spelling, and Rysopolis was too silly and cheesy for words! So I've finally come up with a name employing bits of "Emrys" and "Farwyr."

Rules of the Sight: these will be kept at the very end of the narrative, just for clarification. I'm STILL (pathetically) in the process of adding information about the Sight into the narrative. (Many thanks to The Forgotten for tips on how to do this!)

Rule 1: The statistics of the Sight: the Sight is fairly rare, especially a gift as strong as Kirna's. The Sight does tend to run in families, and prefers to attach itself to females. (Kirna's mother has and her sister will have the Sight, though both much weaker than Kirna's.)

Rule 2: When the Sight makes itself known: the Sight generally emerges during puberty, though it may come earlier when the bearer undergoes a traumatic experience. There may be a way to make the Sight stop permanently; I am currently exploring this possibility.

Rule 3: When visions are given/received: visions are generally given/received arbitrarily. However, if the emotional state of the Seer is not calm, visions may come at a greater frequency. Also, the type of emotion experienced by the Seer is usually directly related to the type of vision received. So, Seers, especially those with strong gifts, must completely deny any and all emotions to avoid unwanted visions. Other factors which bring on visions are exhaustion and looking at a focus: fire, still water, the bronze torque, etc.

Rule 4: Truth and time factors of visions: all visions, once received, are true. The time in which they occur (before, during, or after the reception of the vision) is not known for sure. Seers grow accustomed to taking clues from the vision to figure out when it occurs. There is a way (as yet unknown) to cut off unwanted visions before something happens that the Seer wants to happen a certain way. (ex. The Seer has a vision of a fight to the death and doesn't want a certain person to die. The Seer must end the vision before they see the person die. If they don't, the person will die.)
*          *          *