goddess, Shyann, the goddess of hunting and farming. I have heard my mother mention the High One, but I know little of him.”
“Well, that’s a start. What happened to you, boy, were you injured or born as a cripple?” the man asked kindly.
“I was born this way, sir. The gods did not want me,” answered Jonas, his head hung low in shame.
The man knelt so that his face was close to Jonas’s and held onto him with his strong callused hands.
“What is your name, boy?” the traveler asked gently.
“Jonas. Jonas Kanrene.”
“Listen to me, Jonas. If the gods did not want you, then you wouldn’t have been born and you would be dead already. Remember that. Do not let people’s superstitious ideas cover your life with a black cloud. The gods have a plan for all of us, including you. Is it just your body that is afflicted?”
“I’m sorry, sir, what do you mean?” asked Jonas.
“I mean,” said the man as he softly tapped Jonas’s forehead, “is your head intact? Can you think, or did your brain get damaged along with your body?”
“My head is fine sir. My thoughts are clear, but talking is difficult because my muscles tighten around my face making it hard to move my mouth as I would wish.”
“I see,” the man said thoughtfully.
The warrior stood up and moved toward his horse, which was the most magnificent animal Jonas had ever seen. It was tall, strong, and its coat glistened as if it was recently cleaned and brushed. The horse’s muscles rippled like an ocean’s wave as the man leaped up gracefully onto its saddled back.
Jonas noticed a long black bow and quiver of arrows strapped to the side of the horse. He had never seen a more impressive bow. It was wrapped with silver wire and covered with intricate carvings. Everything on the horse shone with brilliance; every buckle, strap, and harness was immaculate. Jonas wondered how a traveler could keep himself and his steed so clean.
To Jonas, the warrior looked god-like sitting erect and strong on the massive back of his warhorse.
“My name is Airos. Remember what I said, Jonas. You are a good boy with a pure soul, for I can see into the hearts of men. It is very rare to lack the taint of evil, especially for one afflicted as you are. You should be proud of that.”
Airos rode forward, brought his horse close to Jonas, and, leaning down, he handed Jonas something.
Jonas grabbed it awkwardly and looked at it. It was a shiny gold coin.
“Take that home to your mother. It was nice to meet you, Jonas,” the man said with a smile.
“It was nice to meet you too, sir,” Jonas murmured, a little stunned by the unique encounter and the heavy gold resting in his palm.
The man nodded his head in farewell, and gently touching his steed’s flanks, they slowly trotted down the snow covered road.
Jonas looked at the heavy gold coin in his hand. He had never seen gold before, but he knew the shiny sparkle promised enough food for a month. Jonas forced his muscles into a smile. It was indeed a good day.
Jonas continued to walk down the town’s main road toward the north gate. Though Manson was a small town, it did have an impressive log wall that guarded the villagers from the dangers of the Tundren Mountains.
As he patiently made his way to the north end of town, a snowball came out of nowhere hitting him square in the shoulder. Stumbling, he used his crutch to catch his fall. Jonas turned toward the direction the snowball came from only to catch another one in the face. The snowball was mostly ice and it stung fiercely as it struck him on the chin. His head jerked back and he was knocked to the ground. Jonas heard the laughter of boys as he struggled to get to his feet, the pain in his jaw causing his eyes to tear up. He fought back the tears, not willing to give the boys the satisfaction of making him cry.
“Look what we have here, the town’s cripple!”
Jonas recognized the voice of the butcher’s son, Wil. When he stood up he saw Wil and two other boys walking from a side alley.
Wil was Jonas’s age, but much taller, with long black hair. Next to him was Filstar, but most people called him Fil. Fil was short and stocky of limb with curly locks of golden brown hair. Lastly, there was Kohl,