Amos Daragon_ The Mask Wearer - Bryan Perro [8]
Along the way, Urban Daragon and his wife bought all they needed for their long trip: food, a tent, good blankets, and an oil lamp. Amos had never seen his father so happy or his mother so beautiful. Day by day, his parents were coming back to life. It was as if they were opening their eyes and awakening after an endless and gloomy slumber.
Frilla’s soft hands often braided her son’s hair with tender care. Urban laughed a lot, which touched Amos’s soul, and, in spite of his fatigue, he felt a kind of happiness he had never known before.
Amos played with his father, washed himself in the clear water of small rivers, and enjoyed the excellent food cooked by his mother. He was also given a plate of black leather armor that she had made for him, and his father bought him an earring representing a wolf’s head. Atop his horse, Amos looked majestic. With the mermaid’s trident slung across his back, his long braided hair, and his tightly fitted armor, he looked like a young warrior out of an old tale. In spite of all their expenses, Urban’s purse still contained six shiny coins—a huge fortune compared with the poverty that they saw around them.
By the fire at night, Urban spoke of his life, fascinating Amos with stories of his travels and adventures. He was an orphan and had learned a trade early in life to survive. He then took to the road “to conquer the world,” as he said, laughing at his innocence. Unfortunately, he encountered more disappointments than satisfaction on his travels. But his fate turned the day he met Frilla. She was a beautiful eighteen-year-old girl, with her long black hair and nut-brown eyes, a shepherdess by trade. She won his heart. Her parents had promised her to another man, so she and Urban eloped. A happy star had appeared in the young man’s life, and for eight years Urban and Frilla lived blissfully, wandering from village to village, from one kingdom to another. Then an even greater happiness befell them after they settled in the kingdom of Omain, the birth of their child. But the miserable twelve years that followed had been a horrible experience that they now wanted to forget.
Two weeks into their journey north, the Daragons met a knight on the road. He sported a large sword, his shield was adorned with a blazing sun, and his armor sparkled as bright as a mirror.
“Stop!” he shouted. “Identify yourselves, or you’ll pay for your silence.”
Urban Daragon cordially introduced himself and explained that he and his family were headed north to Berrion. He added that he and his wife were craftspeople who had decided to travel again after spending a good number of years in the kingdom of Omain, where their excellent workmanship had been rewarded many times by the ruler. It was not a common sight to see craftspeople riding such beautiful horses, but the knight nodded as if satisfied with the explanation. Of course, Urban did not confess the real reasons that were taking them to Berrion.
“Is it true that the lord of Omain is as stupid as an ass?” the knight inquired, laughing.
“It’s an insult to donkeys to compare them to Lord Edonf,” Amos answered. “At least donkeys are hardworking beasts. It would take only one knight such as yourself to seize all the land in Omain. The entire army there is just like Lord Edonf—cowardly and lazy.”
“Your son has a sharp tongue, but he seems to recognize the power of the sword when it crosses his path,” the knight said, obviously flattered by the compliment. “My fellow knights and I are on the lookout for sorcerers hiding by the roadside in this forest. We know they’re in there, but they surely bear no resemblance to you. You may continue on your way, good travelers.” The knight nodded. Then he added, “Be informed that you’re entering the kingdom of the Knights of Light. Our capital, Bratel-la-Grande, is only a few miles away. Tell the sentinel at the city gates that Barthelemy gave you permission to enter. Don’t waste time getting