Trial of an Avlarian Hopeful (a story for Teir) Options

[redsrock]

Originally I was going to post this as one submission. However, I've come to realize this short story is going to be a tad bit longer that what I set out to write in the beginning. Not that that's a bad thing of course. Anyways, here is Part One. I hope you enjoy it.

Trial of an Avlarian Hopeful


*The Jiivian Forest, in Haevliir, capitol city of the Avlarian region of Klout*

“A man who trusts no one is a man who cannot be trusted. That is the Avlarian way, my little brother. Haven’t you listened to the Katul’s homilies? Surely you have, for you and your fellow younglings sit in the very first row. I see it when I walk past his home on the way to training. ”

Standing under the bright light of the moon were Farel and his younger brother, Frae. Both were covered in heavy, brown fur-hide, made from the massive Hlork beasts that prowled the most northeastern tip of the province, just outside the shorelines of the Vasilnie Sea; for it was rather cold this very night, even for the two Avlaani boys that had been used to the extreme frigidness of their snowy homeland for many years. Farel knew not why it was much colder than usual no more than he understood why the winds were howling louder than he could last remember. But what he did know was that it mattered not, for the almighty Katul’s orders had to be carried out no matter what. Failure, quite literally, was not an option.

The Trial of Valor was something every youngling had to go through, no matter how violent the winds were and no matter who chilled the air was. To slay the beast was Frae’s third and final trial, after having already accomplished the Trials of Acumen and Aptitude with relative ease.

“I have listened, Farel, but it’s been so difficult. Sometimes I can’t even understand what he’s saying, and neither can any of my classmates. These…Seven Songs he speaks of. I just can’t even being to grasp their meaning.

Frae raised his hands in frustration and sat down on a lone stump, one of many in the Jiivian Forest. The tree’s lumber was used to light the Avlaani people’s fireplaces in their homes. And because it was the latter part of the Frost’s Bite, a great many of the trees had already been chopped down by massive axes and razor sharp saws that were taller than their wielders themselves.

“Ah, the Seven Songs of Triumph, written by the Almighty Hero himself,” Farel exclaimed, a slight smile appearing on his face. He too had suffered a great deal of frustration during his time as a youngling. “I’ll admit that I haven’t been able to fully grasp their meanings either, but I’m getting there. Of course, you shouldn’t worry. As an Aucher-to-be, you only need to understand the basics. Only a Bustilliar needs to know the depth of Songs’ significance. As warriors, all we need to know how to do is wield a piece of metal, and nothing else,” he said, winking at his brother, trying to bolster his confidence. And it’s a good thing he was doing so, for the night’s mission certainly called for one to have full confidence in their abilities.

“I guess so. I just…I…” Frae began to stutter, and then stopped. What he wanted to say was very difficult, even more so than understanding the Seven Songs. It was something he had been keeping from his family for quite some time. “I just don’t think I’m the warrior type, Farel. Look at you! You’re so fit and muscular and you wield even the heaviest of weapons as if they’re but a tiny twig! Me? I’m the worst in my age division at melee combat! I’ve yet to win a single match against the other younglings with wooden weaponry, and I am skinny as a rail! How can this be? How am I supposed to be an Avlarian War-Bringer if I can’t even fight?”

For a moment Farel simply stood by his brother, whose head was now buried in his small, boney hands in embarrassment. Farel wasn’t sure what to say, because he never knew his little brother had such feelings. The Gairven lineage had always been known for producing salient warriors for the Avlarian army. As far as Farel could remember, they had never produced a magic-wielding Bustilliar. “Well…I certainly wasn’t expecting you to say that,” he offered, trying his best not to sound too condemning, because in all honesty Farel was somewhat angry. After all the years of vigorous training before Frae was actually being admitted into the Katul’s class of many teachings, now all of a sudden Frae was claiming to not be the warrior his entire family wanted him to be. I wonder if the Katul himself knows about this… Farel thought to himself.

The Katul was the High Magistrate of Klout, meaning he led Klout’s army, though he lived in the capitol of Haevliir just as the officers themselves did. The Katul led its small organization of trained Bustilliars, or magic-wielders for a more generic term, in every battle. Klout prides itself on having the toughest and most intimidating army in all of northwestern Teir, but the Katul (whose name is actually Vrenin Klorr) also wants to be sure that his army is able to defend against magic as well. The Auchers, or war-bringers, know nothing about magic unless they teach themselves or hire someone to do it for them, which is rather rare. According to Avlarian lore, Auchers have traditionally looked down upon the Bustilliars, despite the fact that they are just as much an integral part of Klout’s army as the Auchers are. Unfortunately, Farel falls under this particular bias as well. But fortunately for Frae, Farel also has a passionate love for his brother, and would never do anything to hurt his feelings. But then again, this was a situation unlike any Farel had been faced with before.

“I’m sorry, Farel, but that’s the truth. I’ll never say anything to father of course, for he would burst out with so much anger it scares me to even think about it. Mother wouldn’t care I don’t think….but then again she’d also be one to tell father because she would be worried about me. What should I do, Farel?”

Frae had yet to meet his brother’s eyes during this, and Farel didn’t like that. It meant Frae was scared, and that wasn’t a good thing. Not that night. Not on a night where confidence and concentration were needed just as much as actual skills in battle. “I…I don’t know, Frae. This is awfully sudden. Are you trying to tell me you have no fighting skills whatsoever? You told father how well you were doing. Was that all a lie?”

First the first time Frae looked up at his older brother, and even stood up from the stump as well. “Not a lie,” he said, his voice quivering slightly. “I’d call it…stretching the truth. My skills in battle aren’t too shabby…but with magic rather than brute force.”

Without realizing he was doing so, Farel titled his head sideways as if the only thing coming out of his brother’s mouth was complete gibberish. “You…you can actually wield magic?”

Frae now looked back towards the ground, though he did not sit back down. He was ashamed of what he had just told Farel, for the mark of magic was something their father was entirely against. Their father called it weak and demon-like. The only reason their father didn’t speak of his disapproval publicly was because the Katul willed it himself, and that is the only reason.

“Yes. Not much, but I’m getting better and better every day. The thing is…not even the Katul knows about it. I’ve….I’ve taught myself everything that I know.”

“How?” Farel asked, his voice started to rise.

“Mostly books, but also from watching the Katul teach the youngling Bustilliar-Hopefuls I the afternoon. The books are hiding inside the hollow of a tree just behind our house. But I practice the magic outside of the city walls of course, for fear of being caught. You’re…you’re not going to tell on me, are you?”

His eyes met Farel’s once more, with a pleading look about them. Farel kicked at the shin-high deep snow on the ground and then sighed, knowing what he felt but not sure on how to put it into words. “Tell on you? Frae…you’re about to go up against the fiercest creature this side of the Vasilnie! And now you tell me you’re not a warrior? Is this the mistrust you’ve spoken about? That you haven’t been able to trust anyone enough to tell them of your secret…passion?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Frae responded, an actual tear trickling down his pale, freckle-filled face. “I trust you more than anyone else, Farel. Thanks for understanding all of this.”

“Well…I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you, a member of the Gairven family, are not skilled in the use of melee warfare…but rather…you are favorable towards magic. Truthfully I am astounded, and somewhat disgusted in a way, that this has happened. How did it happen, Frae? Why have you followed a path that no one has led you down?”

The anger in Farel’s voice was much more than he intended, even if it was the truth. And he could sense the hurt in his little brother’s eyes, even if Frae was trying his best to hide it. It was a deep hurt, but so far Frae had been able to hold back the river of tears.

“I don’t know exactly,” Frae began. “The liking just…came to me. You don’t approve, do you?”

“No…not at all,” Farel replied sternly, looking up at the moon and nothing else. He was so angry with his brother, almost to the point of yelling at him. But he didn’t want to do that. No matter how much he wanted to scold him, he could not. But he was now worried. “Let us… let us continue with the trial, Frae. We’re almost there…”

The trial was his brother’s test of strength and determination to succeed in battle. Such a task was standard for any youngling wishing to join the Klout army. The battle was one against the great Hlork beasts. They normally roamed by themselves, so Farel and Frae were looking for all by itself. Farel was to stand aside and watch his brother fight, no matter what. If Frae was to die, Farel had no other choice but to watch; because to be defeated by the Hlork signifies youngling’s weakness, and as harsh as it may be, this test has been in place since the beginning of the beginning itself. And Farel wasn’t feeling too good at this time, because of what he had just learned of his brother. In truth, Farel wanted to turn right back around and tell the Katul of what Frae had spoken, but that was impossible now. The blue-fire torch had been magically summoned by the Katul, officially marking the beginning of the last trial there was no going back.

What if he dies? Farel thought to himself as they both continued north towards the shorelines of the Vasilnie Sea, Frae trudging slightly behind with his head held low, ashamed that he had disappointed his brother. The brother that he looked up to and the brother that had always been there for him. To disappoint him weighed heavily on Frae. What if he dies right there before me? What will I do then? I can’t possible stand by and watch…can I?

They walked through the enormous thicket of trees, trees higher than even the ancient High-Towers of the Olden Age, in utter silence. A silence so awkward that Farel felt as if he was accompanied by no one by the air, and perhaps the spirits of the fallen Avlarian warriors of past battles and wars. Traditional fireplace-stories claim that the spirits of deceased Avlarian warriors accompany one when they most need it. The Katul won’t admit that such a thing is true, but nor does he deny it. Farel knew his little brother would need all the help he could get, and unfortunately it wouldn’t be coming from him.

They arrived at Grevling’s Lair, the site of most of the Hlork beasts, within less than an hour. The grove itself was positioned just over a high ridge, and just to the north of the coastlines. In this small thin set of frozen grasslands, Hlork could be found searching the land for food at night, for they were nocturnal creatures, thanks to the Blank Light Incident. But that is an entirely different story.

Farel thought he could hear the waves crashing into the shore, but that was hard to tell because of the weeping winds. To him it almost sounded as if the winds were crying for his little brother, a thought that chilled him to the bone. And as much as he wanted to rid his mind of it, he could not. He worried for his brother. He worried for Frae’s life.

“This is it, Frae. Get out your halberd and shield, and be sure that the axe that is strapped to your back is fastened tightly so that it doesn’t come undone before you need it,” Farel said, still not looking at his brother. By now everything was stand procedure, for Farel’s friends had told him of their time when they had taken their own little brothers to the Grove. None of them had died. Farel didn’t want Frae to be the first. “Do you remember what stance the Katul taught you?”

Both walked up a hill and then looked down to see a single Hlork beast eating the corpse of some creature neither could clearly make out. Frae leaned forward just a bit, as if attempting to hear the heavy huffs of the Hlork beat breathing. “Yes…I do. Keep my left leg out and right leg back just a bit, to keep balance when the Hlork attacks. Shield in left hand held firmly, with my spear gripped tightly in my right hand, the front hook part resting in the small opening at the top of the shield for support.” The tone in his voice told of many things, mostly that he didn’t want to be there. He’d rather be back at home learning new spells, for the spells he knew would be no use against the Hlork beast. But that was too late. He had waited just hours too late.

“That’s right. And what happens if your spear is split in two by the Hlork’s tusks?”

“I bring out my axe and do my best to chop off the tusks. Because if I can chop off its tusk the only thing it can do is stomp on me with its hooves. From there I focus on the neck or stomach area, where it is least protected. Stay away from the ribs and back because its hide there is too tough to penetrate with a low-quality weapon like mine.”

“Right,” Farel said, looking at his brother and nothing else. For the first time, he noticed how small Frae was. He was rather short for his age of sixteen, and was very boney as well, showing no signs of muscle whatsoever. By this time Farel was having serious second thoughts about the Trial and whether or not his brother would survive or not. He wanted to turn around and head back into town, and announce that his brother had changed his mind. Farel was ashamed that his brother wanted to wield magic rather than an axe or spear, but at the same time he did not want to see his brother slaughtered.

What do I do? Do I let him die? It’s against the Katul’s word…but what if Frae and I went back? Would he really be cruel enough to execute both me and Frae? I don’t know…I wish this wasn’t even question of thought right now... Why in the name of Baar does he have to like magic? Why? He’s a Gairven! He’ supposed to wield spears, hammers and axes, not demonic magic!

“Farel?”

Suddenly Farel snapped out of his nightmarish daydream to realize Frae was standing before; clad in the same Hlork-fur Farel was wearing. But something was wrong with Frae’s. It didn’t seem to fit at all. It looked baggy and awkward. This was the first time Farel had ever noticed such a thing.

“Yes…sorry. Come here and I’ll put on the Mark.”

Farel reached behind him and grabbed a sack that he had been carrying, made from the tough hide of a Maawl, a fast and deadly four-legged predator that roams the southeastern part of Klout, just on the border between the Avlaani territory of Vaen. He pulled from the sack a metallic canister that fit perfectly in the palm on his meaty hand. Opening the lid of the canister revealed a cream-like substance, crushed and mixed-together innards of fish from the Vasilnie Sea. Lore has it that the sea was blessed by Baar himself upon its creation ages and ages ago. The entrails, when spread upon one’s cheeks, are supposed to give their luck in combat, as well as heightened concentration and a greater will to succeed.

Farel was about to spread the intestines over his brother’s cheeks, when he noticed they were wet. Frae was crying, or at least had been. He wasn’t crying before. How long was I out of it? His hands were just inches from Frae’s face, but he didn’t dare touch them. It was as if he was afraid of the tears, afraid that they held the memories that he feared he would soon be forced to grasp. In the reflection of the tears he thought he saw his brother lying in red snow. This was an extreme trick of the eye of course, but the thought of it was still disturbing nonetheless.

Before his brother could say anything else he spread the ointment of sort onto his young skin, skin smooth as Ibisarian silk. “There, you’re ready,” he said, his own voice starting to quiver. Farel didn’t want any of this to happen, not now. Last night he had been proud and eager to accompany his little brother on his third and final Trial. But now…now he scared for his brother’s life. Disgusted, yes, but still worried about his brother’s safety more than anything. The other Auchers, at least the younger ones, had always pestered him for his great love for his brother. They called him a girly-boy, even if secretly they likely felt the same way. Farel was simply not afraid to show and admit to such a love. In fact, he saw that bond as something greater than any War-Bringer, a force stronger than any kind of magic even the Katul himself could conjure.

For a moment or two Frae stood there under the moonlight, staring into his brother’s eyes, likely surprised to see that Farel too was crying. And this must have been somewhat of an message, for out of nowhere Frae began to bawl his eyes out. He leapt into his brother’s arms, his head resting just barely at chest level. Farel had not a clue what to do, for he had never seen his brother exert such extreme emotions. But, he wrapped his arms around and returned the favor. He did not cry, though, or at least he tried. It was impossible to keep back every single tear, but he would not cry a river like his brother was. He was the older one, the wiser one. He had to be the stronger one as well.

“There,” he said, gently pushing Frae back. “It’s time to begin your final Trial, Frae. Remember…remember what the Katul has taught you, as well what you’ve learned from father and I.” he choked on his words halfway, his lips trembling not just from the cold.

Frae started down the hill towards the Hlork beast, when suddenly Farel called out, “Frae…” Frae turned around to look back at his brother, who stood there for an entire five seconds without saying a word.

“Yes?” Frae asked.

Farel sighed heavily, looked up into the dark, starry sky, and then back to his little brother. “Good luck, Frae. I…I love you.”

Farel knew not what happened next exactly, for his brother was in such a position that the moonlight reflected off to where it almost blinded him. But, he could have sworn that Frae raised his right hand into the air making a fist, and then extending his thumb out. Such a sign was a symbol on kinship between blood-brothers. Again, he knew not what happened exactly, but Farel could have sworn that was what had taken place right then before his eyes.

He had not the time to return the symbol, for his brother was already descending the hill, his small feet crunching through the heavy snow. The snow was deep enough to bury someone. Farel hoped that would be the case tonight, but a burial for something much bigger than a man…or more specifically, a little boy.

[redsrock]

Here's the second part of the short tale.

* * *

A man who trusts no one is a man who cannot be trusted.

This phrase, spoken by the two brothers’ father almost day in and day out, had been embedded into Farel’s mind at an early age. Like all Avlarians of Klout, their father deeply believed in the aspects of trust and faith, but also in the ability for one to trust others. For if a man cannot trust his own brethren, what is there to live for? The Avlarians pride themselves on their capability to coexist without one another without having to fear one another as well, and such pride is very important to the Gairven family, and in particular, Farel himself .

Most Avlarians tend to get along with one another, but there are of course exceptions, and there will always be backstabbers and double-crossers; the kind of people who can’t be trusted. Farel is aware of that. But when it comes to family, he thinks that if a family member cannot be trusted, then he or she is no family member at all; only an imposter, pretending to be part of the family. And while watching Frae walk down the snowy hill, he wasn’t sure what to think about his little brother.

He lied to me…he lied to us all. All this time I’ve trusted in him…I’ve trusted him to come to me or father when something was wrong. And now this. I wonder how long he’s been studying magic, and I also wonder how long he was planning on waiting to tell me about his secret passion. If it wasn’t for the Trial, would he have told me at all?

And what agitated Farel the most was that he actually fell for it all. He believed that his brother was content with becoming an Aucher. In fact, he thought Frae was having the time of his life, especially with his family’s background, having bred many talented warriors from the past. Farel thought Frae wanted to go down the path of a War-Bringer, when in reality, Frae felt the complete opposite.

If he waited this long to tell me about it, did he really trust me to begin with? Could it be that the only reason he’s telling me is because he knows this might be his last chance? I don’t know, but I wish I would have asked.

Farel hear a muffled growl from below, and there he saw that the Hlork monster was finally aware of Frae’s presence. The six foot monster then let out a deafening roar that truly shook the trees, though it paled in comparison to the job the wind was already doing. The Hlork’s dark grey hide would have allowed him to blend in with the many rocks in the area were it not for the moon reflecting off of the snow. Because of Baar’s Dark Eye, the light allowed Farel to easily see the creature’s features, even though it was in the middle of the night. Its two front tusks bent up into what almost resembled a horn, and its massive feet shook the ground as well as the trees as it started towards Frae. Farel didn’t want to look on, for he feared for the worst. But no matter how much he wanted to look away, he knew he could not. It was like watching two Avlaani slaves fighting for the last spec of food on the plate. One of the catmen would get shredded to pieces and gore would be a plenty, but still one could not look away, almost as if it were some kind of spell that mesmerized the mind.

With another monstrous roar, the Hlork began to charge Frae, though it was a rather slow charge. The Hlork had never been known for their speed and agility, thanks to their bulky body frame. Farel watched as his little brother stood there in the snow, his shield and spear raised, but his body shaking tremendously with great fear for oncoming Hlork beast. Much to Farel’s surprise, when the Hlork swung with its meaty, long arm, Frae blocked it with his shield. However, in doing so he also fell to the snow because of the Hlork strength. The beast tried to impale Frae with its two horns, but the boy rolled to safety just in time as the horns crunched through the ground. The Hlork shook its head, wiping the snow from its eyes, and by this time Frae was up on his feet and in his defense position once more.

But this time with the Hlork charged and rammed into Frae’s shield, the boy flew back almost ten feet, landing hard in the snow. The beast walked over and jabbed its horn into Frae’s body, capturing hold of what looked like his shoulder. Then the fiend threw Frae into the air, where he landed hard on the snowy ground again some ten yards or so away. Farel held his breathe as he waited for his brother to move, but he didn’t.

Get up, Frae, get up! Get up!

The Hlork let out another roar, and started to walk towards Frae, with slow steps that splashed up snow whenever he walked. Farel had had enough of what was going on; he was not going to watch his brother get mutilated by the monster. He cared no more for the rules of the Trial, for as it was mentioned, his love for his brother was stronger than anything else.

Running down the hill with great speed and agility, Farel took his long spear and gripped it tightly. Once he was at the bottom of the hill and only about twenty yards away he threw his spear through the air, and it stuck into the Hlork’s back with a sickening sound. Farel grabbed his long two-handed axe from its holder on his back and continued to charge. The Hlork was now in a fit of rage, trying to shake off the spear. But it was lodged too far into its back. Farel was lucky he had thrown the spear with enough force to even penetrate the beast’s back. While the Hlork was panicking, Farel chopped at its legs with his long axe, connecting with its left knee. The beast fell down, but kicked upwards with its other leg, hitting Farel in the stomach with its foot.

Farel fell to the ground and lost his breath for a moment before hurrying back up. The monster was now crippled and Farel had rushed over to deliver the finishing blow. But before he could do that, a green cloud formed around the monster, so much until completely engulfed the Hlork. After a few seconds, the cloud cleared and there were no more roars from the Hlork, nor was there any Hlork at all. Farel was clueless as to what had just transpired. One second the creature was there, and then the next it seemingly disappeared with the strange green cloud of what had resembled some kind of smoke.

Then a voice spoke up from behind Farel, “Very good, Farel.”

It was a deep voice filled with a mysterious tone he was so familiar with. Farel turned around and saw a tall Avlarian man wearing an all black robe, his long tri-colored hair falling out of his hood. It was the Katul himself.

“Chief Katul? What are you doing here? And…and what happened to the Hlork? It disappeared right in front of me!” Farel bellowed.

The Katul smiled. “That’s because it was never actually there to begin with.”

Farel did not smile. Instead he was angry. “What are you talking about? Never there? Look at Frae! He’s-“

Suddenly Farel stopped mid-sentence when he realized his brother was standing, no longer lying motionlessly in the snow. And there weren’t any entries into any wounds. Frae looked as if he had awoken from some kind of dream, which was actually half-way the truth.

“Frae? You’re alright!” Farel run over to his brother and gave him the biggest hug ever. He was crying once more, but Frae was not. He was speechless, unable to say a thing. Farel then looked back at the Katul, who was still smiling. “How can this be, Katul? I swear the Hlork stuck its horns into my brother’s shoulder, and then he flung him across the snow! Didn’t he, Frae?” Frae nodded.

“The wounds were imaginary, just as was the Hlork itself,” The Katul began. “But because of your brother’s little knowledge in the ways of magic, I was able to trick him into believing it was reality, just as I’ve done with every other Hopeful during my time as Klout’s Katul.”

The two brothers simply gawked at the Katul as if he were speaking another language. “A trick?” Frae asked.

“Yes, dear child. Tell me now, did you ever actually feel any pain?”

Frae looked at where the Hlork once was, and then looked back at the Katul. “No…not really. Only a bit of numbness is all. But…it was weird…something that I’ve never felt before. So it was all magic?”

The smile had widened even further on the Katul’s face. “Yes, deception in its most creative form. I conjured up this Hlork for a Trial not only to test your courage, Frae, but also to test your brother’s loyalty.” The Katul looked at Farel. “And you passed the test, Farel. Not that I ever doubted you of course.”

“What do you mean?” Farel asked. “I broke one of the rules of the trial! I interfered with Frae’s battle when I wasn’t supposed to. We are to be both executed now, are we not?”

“No, of course not. This Trial was just as important for you as it was for Frae. I designed all of this to test your loyalty, Farel. I needed to know, just as with every other Hopeful’s brother, if you cared for Frae enough to risk your own survival. And you’ve proven tonight that you most definitely are as loyal as you seem.”

“This is…strange, to say the least,” Farel said, now smiling a bit himself. “But I still don’t completely understand. What if I was not Frae’s brother and he did not have a brother at all? What would have happened then?”

“Then I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish two tests at once, now would I?” He answered with a laugh. “If that had been the case then I would have simply tested Frae’s strength and courage. And there’s something you should know, Farel. I know you and the other Auchers look down upon Bustilliars and their magical ways. But tell me, what did you brother just do? He stared down his potential death-bringer and extinguished it. As one can easily tell, Frae will not follow the path of an Aucher. But he didn’t falter like others would have done. He did what he was asked to do.”

“But…what of the other Hopefuls? They have all passed the test as well?”

“No, unfortunately not. Some were too afraid to fight, and therefore did not pass the test. And in situations where the brothers did not help their younger sibling, they failed their own test. But in the end, no one actually fails, Farel. I teach them the lesson that I had set out to teach in the first place, and then they move on to better things. Some, if I deem them worthy, continue down their path as an Aucher or Bustilliar. Some go down an entirely different path, whether it is a metal-wielder, a brick-layer, or many other things.
“The one thing you two must realize is that these trials do not test one’s physical abilities, for that comes later, as you now know. These trials merely test one’s love and trust for one another. There’s a reason why we Avlarians are known to be the most trustworthy people in all of Teir. It is quite unfortunate, but too many believe in brute force as the only key to being a successful warrior. And while that may be true for individuals, to truly come together as an army and defend our land from the many dangers that lurk, we all have to have the cohesiveness to fight with one another in harmony. Do you both understand what I’m trying to say? That in order to truly be strong we have to help one another as well?”

Farel and Frae nodded their heads, for they understood everything the Katul was telling them. Then Farel asked, “What of those who told me their brothers did not fail the Trial? Some of them have lied to me then?”

“That haven’t lied. They’ve only done what I’ve told them, which is to help me with the deception of the Trial. I have to be sure that each Hopeful is unaware of my trick, and to do that I ask past Hopefuls to boast that their own brothers passed with ease. It only hardens the Trial.”

This time it was Frae who spoke up. “But…you said it yourself. I am not fit to be an Aucher, like everyone else in my family has been. My father will be angry when he finds out that I am to follow the path of a Bustilliar-to-be.”

“Your father will be angry only because he has forgotten what it was like when he was a Hopeful himself. I remember him back then; boastful as could be, and for good reason. Your grandfather was one of Klout’s most famed warriors. And unlike what your brother told you, your family has produced Bustilliars in the past. I know this because the written words say so. But your father is like most Auchers. It is simply ignorance of the truth. But ignorance, unfortunately, is a necessity. For if everyone went through life knowing the truth, what would there be to live for? There would be no challenges to accomplish, no mysteries to solve. Do not worry too much, Frae. Your father will understand in due time. It may take a while, but so does many things in life.”

Frae nodded slowly and smiled. “Thank you, Katul. So…does this mean my training is complete?”

The Katul laughed so loud that both Farel and Frae jumped with surprise. “No, no, no. Your training has just begun, just as Farel’s has. Come, let us go home and celebrate. The entire town is waiting after all.”

The three of them started up the hill together, the Katul leading the way with Farel and Frae following close behind, both smiling not only because they knew the truth, but also because they had conquered the false.