Chapter 1
Year of Maxwell
The red sun as always shone directly above him. The sky was clear. Faint shadows of the other side of the world surrounded the sun. No details were visible of course but on the other side of the world there must be seas teaming with monstrous fish, surrounding continents and islands that in turn were inhabited by strange wondrous creatures. Looking to one side Janol saw the land rising up towards the indistinct horizon. Details as usual were lost in the shimmering haze; the further away he looked the more the atmosphere distorted his view.
If he was lying here in Wyive looking past the sun towards the other side of the world, was there someone like him looking towards where he was thinking similar thoughts? He hoped so. The world was huge, supposedly many Gigametres across so the chances were that sometimes someone was doing just that, assuming that people lived on the other side of the world. Nobody really knew.
Janol sat up, rubbed his eyes and looked about. It would soon be time to head home but there was time for one last look at the world around him. Following his normal habit he looked to the east first, staring at the distant farms then beyond to the mountains. What lay beyond was lost in the haze but he knew from his geography lessons that beyond was the sea and further lay the hazy continent of Zedix with all of its troubles.
It was getting late. It would soon be dusk, the sky would darken and the sun would become shaded. Janol dusted off the soil, grass and small insects from his trousers and walked down the hill towards his home.
Janol dawdled. It would take about twenty minutes if he walked fast. His mother would put the evening meal out in about half an hour. That meant there was about ten minutes to waste. If he arrived too early, he would have to listen to his father shouting about everything and nothing. He wanted to miss that but he did not want to arrive home too late and get into trouble from his mother for missing the evening meal.
Janol reached the sprawling farm just after six o’clock and walked towards the large main building where he, his parents and sisters lived. Parked in the garage was the tractor, which meant his father was home. He ambled past barns where crops were stored before they were either picked up by merchants or taken to market.
Janol had timed his home coming well tonight; his mother had just finished making dinner. She smiled at Janol as he entered the kitchen, “Janol you’re just in time. Help me with the dinner.”
“What is it?” Janol asked.
“Vegetable broth for starters then some chicken, boiled potatoes and some carrots.” Not potatoes again!
His mother could see the look of disappointment on Janol’s face. Potatoes were a part of every meal. It was the major crop grown in this region of Wyive and their farm seemed to produce more than its fair share. Over half the farm was given over to potatoes and most of the rest was used for other root crops. They kept a small amount of land aside for grain and a few animals, mostly chickens.
Janol’s father was already sitting at the table, adding up some numbers and muttering under his breath. He heard Janol come in. “Nobody is buying potatoes or leeks or carrots or yams,” he complained. “I want to be able to leave this farm in a fit state for you son.”
Janol said nothing; he had no desire to inherit the farm and he dreaded the day when he would have to tell his father.
His father just carried on talking “How are we going to get the harvest in? You’ll have to work extra hard this autumn Janol. We’ve not got any money to hire labourers to help.”
“We’ll manage dear,” his mother replied as she entered the room followed by Janol’s two sisters.
His father picked up the local broadsheet. “The price of grain has gone up again. Everyone is hoarding because of those Zedixians. What good is hoarding. We don’t hoard our potatoes.”
“I still managed to buy some bread dear.”
Trade had virtually stopped owing to the troubles in the east. His father knew this as well but that did not stop him complaining about it at every mealtime. Janol tried to switch off but his father kept on.
“I imagine some Zedixians will come here and I suppose we’ll have to take some in,” his father mumbled more to himself. “And then there’s talk of an invasion from Zedix.”
“It won’t come to that Korith,” Janol’s mother replied trying to keep the peace.
“Well, we might get some cheap labour for the harvest,” Janol said trying to put a positive feel into the conversation.
“Yes, but we’ll have to feed them.”
His father’s moans were interrupted as Janol’s sisters started arguing. Prayoir started to tease Greta about some boy who seemed to be interested in her. Janol smiled to himself. In a year or two Prayoir would start getting attention from the boys and instead of teasing Greta she would be asking for her advice.
The family’s bickering faded into the background as Janol’s thoughts turned to the distant continents of Teenin, Zedix and Emchoo.
After dinner, Janol had to feed the chickens and collect any eggs and then he had to help load some yams onto the tractor.
“I’ve sold some more yams,” his father explained, “but I’ve not made any money on them.”
Janol said nothing, as anything he did say would be the wrong thing. Eventually he went to bed tired both physically and emotionally. He was not sure how much longer he could stand his father complaining over everything and anything and his mother ignoring all the problems.
Tomorrow would be the start of another week and there would be seven days of digging, ploughing and getting in the crops in the vague hope of earning enough money to buy meat, grain, some luxuries or the services of a farming mage or a weather mage. Then on the next aytday he would have another day off and Janol would have another chance to explore the nearby areas of Eastern Wyive.
The red sun as always shone directly above him. The sky was clear. Faint shadows of the other side of the world surrounded the sun. No details were visible of course but on the other side of the world there must be seas teaming with monstrous fish, surrounding continents and islands that in turn were inhabited by strange wondrous creatures. Looking to one side Janol saw the land rising up towards the indistinct horizon. Details as usual were lost in the shimmering haze; the further away he looked the more the atmosphere distorted his view.
If he was lying here in Wyive looking past the sun towards the other side of the world, was there someone like him looking towards where he was thinking similar thoughts? He hoped so. The world was huge, supposedly many Gigametres across so the chances were that sometimes someone was doing just that, assuming that people lived on the other side of the world. Nobody really knew.
Janol sat up, rubbed his eyes and looked about. It would soon be time to head home but there was time for one last look at the world around him. Following his normal habit he looked to the east first, staring at the distant farms then beyond to the mountains. What lay beyond was lost in the haze but he knew from his geography lessons that beyond was the sea and further lay the hazy continent of Zedix with all of its troubles.
It was getting late. It would soon be dusk, the sky would darken and the sun would become shaded. Janol dusted off the soil, grass and small insects from his trousers and walked down the hill towards his home.
Janol dawdled. It would take about twenty minutes if he walked fast. His mother would put the evening meal out in about half an hour. That meant there was about ten minutes to waste. If he arrived too early, he would have to listen to his father shouting about everything and nothing. He wanted to miss that but he did not want to arrive home too late and get into trouble from his mother for missing the evening meal.
Janol reached the sprawling farm just after six o’clock and walked towards the large main building where he, his parents and sisters lived. Parked in the garage was the tractor, which meant his father was home. He ambled past barns where crops were stored before they were either picked up by merchants or taken to market.
Janol had timed his home coming well tonight; his mother had just finished making dinner. She smiled at Janol as he entered the kitchen, “Janol you’re just in time. Help me with the dinner.”
“What is it?” Janol asked.
“Vegetable broth for starters then some chicken, boiled potatoes and some carrots.” Not potatoes again!
His mother could see the look of disappointment on Janol’s face. Potatoes were a part of every meal. It was the major crop grown in this region of Wyive and their farm seemed to produce more than its fair share. Over half the farm was given over to potatoes and most of the rest was used for other root crops. They kept a small amount of land aside for grain and a few animals, mostly chickens.
Janol’s father was already sitting at the table, adding up some numbers and muttering under his breath. He heard Janol come in. “Nobody is buying potatoes or leeks or carrots or yams,” he complained. “I want to be able to leave this farm in a fit state for you son.”
Janol said nothing; he had no desire to inherit the farm and he dreaded the day when he would have to tell his father.
His father just carried on talking “How are we going to get the harvest in? You’ll have to work extra hard this autumn Janol. We’ve not got any money to hire labourers to help.”
“We’ll manage dear,” his mother replied as she entered the room followed by Janol’s two sisters.
His father picked up the local broadsheet. “The price of grain has gone up again. Everyone is hoarding because of those Zedixians. What good is hoarding. We don’t hoard our potatoes.”
“I still managed to buy some bread dear.”
Trade had virtually stopped owing to the troubles in the east. His father knew this as well but that did not stop him complaining about it at every mealtime. Janol tried to switch off but his father kept on.
“I imagine some Zedixians will come here and I suppose we’ll have to take some in,” his father mumbled more to himself. “And then there’s talk of an invasion from Zedix.”
“It won’t come to that Korith,” Janol’s mother replied trying to keep the peace.
“Well, we might get some cheap labour for the harvest,” Janol said trying to put a positive feel into the conversation.
“Yes, but we’ll have to feed them.”
His father’s moans were interrupted as Janol’s sisters started arguing. Prayoir started to tease Greta about some boy who seemed to be interested in her. Janol smiled to himself. In a year or two Prayoir would start getting attention from the boys and instead of teasing Greta she would be asking for her advice.
The family’s bickering faded into the background as Janol’s thoughts turned to the distant continents of Teenin, Zedix and Emchoo.
After dinner, Janol had to feed the chickens and collect any eggs and then he had to help load some yams onto the tractor.
“I’ve sold some more yams,” his father explained, “but I’ve not made any money on them.”
Janol said nothing, as anything he did say would be the wrong thing. Eventually he went to bed tired both physically and emotionally. He was not sure how much longer he could stand his father complaining over everything and anything and his mother ignoring all the problems.
Tomorrow would be the start of another week and there would be seven days of digging, ploughing and getting in the crops in the vague hope of earning enough money to buy meat, grain, some luxuries or the services of a farming mage or a weather mage. Then on the next aytday he would have another day off and Janol would have another chance to explore the nearby areas of Eastern Wyive.
Next Aytday however, his father took him aside. “Listen son, I know it’s been hard the last few years and it’s getting worse. I’m going to let you have a week’s holiday before the harvest starts properly.”
Janol’s heart leapt. A whole week off!
“We can manage for the next week without you. I’ll get Greta and Prayoir to help a bit more. It’s about time they did more.” His father was now talking to himself more than to Janol.
There were always plenty of jobs to do around the farm, a never-ending list but Janol was not going to argue.
“Your sisters are going to have to do some …” Janol had stopped listening; he reckoned his father wanted to prove a point. His younger sisters were not carrying their weight about the farm. Greta was always disappearing to meet up with some boy. Prayoir being ten just wanted to play with her friends. She had managed to get her disappearing act down to a fine art.
Janol went up to his room and packed his basic camping equipment. He examined his collection of artefacts, ancient objects he had found lying around. He had no idea what most of them were. A few of them he had identified as being from some ancient machinery. Perhaps he would find some other objects for his collection.
He pocketed some coins for food and emergencies and went downstairs. He raided the kitchen for enough food for a few days and kissed both of his parents good-bye. He looked around for his sisters and found them in their rooms. He said good-bye to them; they were both looking a bit sullen. They were going to be forced to do the work about the farm that Janol normally would have done.
Janol stood in the courtyard of the farm and looked about. He stared at the mountains to the east. They were the nearest semi-civilised lands. He would go there. He hoisted his possessions onto his back and walked east, smiling to himself, a whole eight days of freedom.
The area set aside for farming root crops in Eastern Wyive was vast and it took a day of walking and travelling by bus to reach the semi-wilderness of the Eastern hills. Here some of the poorer farmers eked out a living in the less fertile areas, never earning enough money to pay to get the soil improved. Janol got some strange stares as he walked past. He was careful not to tread on any crops or in any way annoy the farmers. However, as he was not doing any harm they left him alone.
He travelled further into the wilderness, towards the Eastern Wyive mountain range that separated the farms from the coast.
Janol’s heart leapt. A whole week off!
“We can manage for the next week without you. I’ll get Greta and Prayoir to help a bit more. It’s about time they did more.” His father was now talking to himself more than to Janol.
There were always plenty of jobs to do around the farm, a never-ending list but Janol was not going to argue.
“Your sisters are going to have to do some …” Janol had stopped listening; he reckoned his father wanted to prove a point. His younger sisters were not carrying their weight about the farm. Greta was always disappearing to meet up with some boy. Prayoir being ten just wanted to play with her friends. She had managed to get her disappearing act down to a fine art.
Janol went up to his room and packed his basic camping equipment. He examined his collection of artefacts, ancient objects he had found lying around. He had no idea what most of them were. A few of them he had identified as being from some ancient machinery. Perhaps he would find some other objects for his collection.
He pocketed some coins for food and emergencies and went downstairs. He raided the kitchen for enough food for a few days and kissed both of his parents good-bye. He looked around for his sisters and found them in their rooms. He said good-bye to them; they were both looking a bit sullen. They were going to be forced to do the work about the farm that Janol normally would have done.
Janol stood in the courtyard of the farm and looked about. He stared at the mountains to the east. They were the nearest semi-civilised lands. He would go there. He hoisted his possessions onto his back and walked east, smiling to himself, a whole eight days of freedom.
The area set aside for farming root crops in Eastern Wyive was vast and it took a day of walking and travelling by bus to reach the semi-wilderness of the Eastern hills. Here some of the poorer farmers eked out a living in the less fertile areas, never earning enough money to pay to get the soil improved. Janol got some strange stares as he walked past. He was careful not to tread on any crops or in any way annoy the farmers. However, as he was not doing any harm they left him alone.
He travelled further into the wilderness, towards the Eastern Wyive mountain range that separated the farms from the coast.
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