The Leather Bound Book

In the tops of the trees of the Raven Forest in the Territory of Drea sits a girl in her new home, surrounded by boxed memories

-        Chapter Two �
The Leather-Bound Book

Many thousands of miles away, across the territories of Entar and Galarya, past borders, rivers and towns, stood a forest. This forest was vast, the largest by far in all the territories of Ardiea. The forest was called the Forest of Ravens. The forest, which took up the largest part of the territory of Drea, was more than just a collection of trees, however. Amongst its many branches, calmly swaying in the winds drifting over from the far off oceans, a myriad of villages hung. Each village swung from the trees, held strongly between them by ropes weaved many centuries ago and so old that they formed part of the trees bark, the trees soul.

Every village had many levels and each level was criss-crossed by sturdy walkways made from the fallen trees of the forest, and ropes as old as the ones that clung to the tree bark. All of the levels were connected together by ladders, some of which led down to the ground. The massive Oalk trees took the weight of these villages with ease and held many thousands of homes, shops and meeting places, all nestled serenely amongst their giant leaves, over 100 feet from the dark, damp forest floor below.

The canopy let only a few shafts of dusty light through onto the lower levels of the villages, which gave them a permanent dream-like dusk quality, half lit by a dim orange glow coming from oil burning lamps hung from the walkways, stretching off into the mysterious distance.

Many of the houses burst through the tops of the trees and out into the brilliant sunlight. The view from the roofs of these houses was perhaps more spectacular than the dreamy village below. The trees stretched out in every direction, so far off into the distance it looked like the sky was resting on a warm bed of grass. On the southern horizon could be seen the tips of the Western Range that stretched across both the territories of Ardaya and Deena. On a summer�s morning, a cool breeze would drift lazily over the leaves, making them undulate and swim like the tides of the Sea of Spirits to the east. And so the people of Drea and especially the people of the Raven Villages grew to be like the trees they inhabited. They were tall and strong and lived slow and easy lives climbing amongst the trees that were their homes. They spent their days making new homes, painting the views from treetop to treetop, racing from one end of a village to the other without touching the walkways, entertaining guests and enjoying life. Each person was paid for there work, be they painter, builder, shopkeeper or schoolteacher, and each enjoyed life like no other peoples in the Territories.
The first rays of sunlight start to creep over the forest leaves on the morning our story starts. A single bird, woken by the sun�s new light opened its wings and took to the sky. For what seemed like a blissful eternity, the bird swooped and dived, climbed and rushed through the air around the treetops. After a while, and for no reason anyone watching would be able to tell, the bird turned its tail to the rising sun and disappeared into the trees below. Through branch and leaf, through twig and rope the bird half flew, half hopped until it broke through the canopy and down into the silent sleepy village. It skipped from house to house, from walkway to walkway following the same pattern it followed every morning. Finally, it stopped on the windowsill of a small house, built onto the side of a large Oalk tree on the lower levels of the village. The bird, now tired from all its adventures, hopped through the open window and made one last, weary flight over to a small hole that lead deep into the tree itself. It popped its head back out of the hole once more and let out a soft little peep to the girl sat on the bed next to the window, who had been watching the bird ever since it had come down from the canopy. She put down the mug she had been cradling and looked up at the small hole.

�Back again then little one?� she said with a half smile. �I was wondering when you would be gracing me with your presence.� From inside the bird�s small, round hole, she heard a weak, tired sounding peep. The girl grinned.

�If you will be so active in the morning what do you expect?� She said to the bird, pulling her legs up onto the bed and hugging them close to her body. �Silly time of day if you ask me. The old woman who showed me this place didn�t say anything about you, or did you decide to stay quite when she was around?� The bird said nothing.

�Just because you�re a bird and don�t understand a word I�m saying doesn�t mean you can ignore me.� Silence came from the bird�s little home. She grinned again. The girl was small and thin, with shoulder length dirty-brown hair tucked back behind her ears. Her left wrist was covered in a large number of bracelets, baggy, well worn and well played with. Her clothes hid her figure and hung loosely from her in a way that seemed uncomfortable to some, but was the most comfortable thing in the world for her. On her right forearm, just like most people who lived in the forest, was strapped a large, scratched piece of leather used to fend off sharp branches and, for some of the elder members of the village, sheathed a dagger. With a sigh, she turned her large blue eyes away from the hole in which the bird had disappeared, and down at the mess that was her new home.

The room, for that�s all the house consisted of, was long and thin, and curved round in a semicircle, following the line of the tree to which it was attached. Her bed was at one end of the room, underneath a window that looked out over the lamp lit scene that was the lower levels of the village. Along the wall that hugged the tree were shelves, half-full of the books the girl had managed to unpack the night before and above the top shelf was the small hole that now contained a sleeping bird. The dark-red floor was almost entirely covered in boxes and trunks of clothes, most unopened, a few with their contents strewn around them, the aftermath of an obvious attempt to find something hidden in its depths.

The girl lent over the side of the bed and pulled something out from underneath a pile of clothes. It was an old, large, leather-bound book, a little frayed at the edges and full of the smells of memory. She turned it over, plumped it down into the bed and read the gold, spidery writing on its cover.

Breena�s Life book
3/2/328/3 �
Breena looked out over the walkways at the people just starting to emerge from their houses, before turning back to the book again, and turning to the first page. She skipped past her baby clothing, past the first reports from the old man who had taught her in her earliest years and finally settled on a drawing of two people lying on a hammock above the canap�.

Breena, her head resting gently on her fathers chest, slowly closed her eyes and let the last of the warm sunlight caress her cheeks. High up in the canap� of the trees, lying in a hammock above the house, Breena felt as if she would never be so contented again. She could hear the slow, calm, steady beats of her father�s heart and felt his chest rise and fall, rise and fall. The whole world was turning a stunning shade of orange, bathing like Breena, in the life-giving warmth that was slowly disappearing behind the horizon to the west. All around, Breena could hear families and couples, children and friends packing up their things and chatting merrily, preparing to return below the canap� and back into the comfort of the their homes.

�Dad?� Asked Breena. Her father, a tall strong man with light brown hair the same colour as Breena�s, a rough prickling of stubble on his chin and large, weathered hands well used to hard work, shifted his weight slightly and let out a gentle waft of pipe-smoke that billowed into a thousand swirls as one of Breena�s Spirits darted through it, playfully.

�Hmm...�

�Will we have to go down soon, like the other people?� She felt her fathers head move to the side to watch the couple nearest to them, but Breena didn�t move.

�Eventually we will, don�t want your mother getting worried. She goes all red and shouts as daddy when she�s worries.� Breena scrunched up a handful of his shirt into her palm and giggled.

�Is there no way of staying here? Stop the sun from going maybe, or those people from moving� her father grinned.

�I�m sure there is,� he said, �I�m sure there would be a way of slowing down the world, or staying in the memory forever.�

�There is?� Said Breena, moving round to look at her father, her Spirits moving round as well to cast a soft golden glow over his calm, relaxed face.

�Hmmm.� He said again, letting out a long, smoke filled sign, sending Breena�s Spirits soaring as they chased away the dying whips. �There�s more in this world than you know, more than you could ever know, even if you lived for an age. That�s why we can�t stay up here forever my darling.� He smiled at her, tucking her hair back behind her ear. �There�s too much to know, to learn and see to spend forever in a happy moment.�

�I want to see everything.� She said quickly. �But��she faltered �but, I want to stay here as well. It�s hard.� Neither of them moved for a while, both of them watching their Spirits circle through the leaves.

�Dad?� Whispered Breena. �I thought you said we couldn�t stay because mum would start shouting?� He let out a great bark of a laugh.

�Very True, my young girl, very true! Look, I might be able to help you remember the moment forever. Come on, come with me now.�

That had been the night her father had sat down in front of the fire with Breena, and between them they had created her life book, the red leather-bound volume she now had in her hands. Her father had told her that he had been given a life book when he was young, and that his father had told him to put something of every strong or important memory in it. And so she had. Some things, like baby clothes or learning reports were easy, but other things, like the time spent amongst the leaves with her father had no object, so she would draw a picture, or write a long passage, weaving everything she could remember into its lines.

With a half smile, she turned the page again. This time there was no picture. Instead, there was a small scrap of green material. Breena instinctively scratched at the scar down her right arm, drawing her finger down the permanent reminder of how close she came.

�Breena? Oh Breena you blasted girl your to good at this, come down now!�

�Never!� Cried Breena with a triumphant laugh. She panted her feet firmly near the base of the branch she was standing on, bent her knees, judged her distance and jumped. For a second, nothing stood between her, the ground, nearly 100 feet below, but she had judged well, and a second later, she made perfect contact with a branch in the next tree and went swinging off, deep inside its clutches.

�By the gods�� exclaimed her father a few branches below. �Breena, don�t ever do that again, you�ll hurt yourself.� He said, breathing a little harder than normal.

�I�ll be fine,� she dismissed �you worry to much, see!� As she said this, Breena let go of the branch she was holding onto. The wood beneath her feet creaked alarmingly, hiding the sound of her father�s voice.

�What did you said daddy?� Asked Breena, grabbing hold of the branch again.

�Never you mind,� he replied, �I�ll not have you knowing words like that, even if you do deserve it.�

�Oh dad, like I said, you really do worry�� As she was talking, the branch holding her weight gave a huge lurch and almost gave way. Instinctively Breena grabbed hold of the branch above her with both hands before the one at her feet had even stopped moving. �Ok, that was a little close I�ll admit. I might just move out of this spot now.� She twisted round to look at the tree she had just come from.

�Breena, no, I told you.� Said her father. She looked down, her spirits already floating over to the nearest branches, helping her judge the distance.

At that moment, the branch gave a gut wrenching snap and Breena shot downwards. Through branch and twig she fell. Sharp it�s of wood tore her clothes, cut into her skin. She fell down, down into the depths of the tree below. One branch, and a second, and a third gave way under her falling weight, but on the forth the sleeve of her top snared and caught. Breena thudded to a halt, almost tearing the sleeve in two. She hung there, her dad and her spirits, left behind in the suddenness of the snapping branch, stood above her, hidden by leaves.

�Breena?!� Came her dads scream. �Don�t move, I�ll get you.�

Breena couldn�t speak, she couldn�t think. With every heartbeat, she felt another stitch snap away. She tried to yell the only word that still meant anything to her, but that came out was a whisper.

�Dad!�

The Sleeve ripped.

For one, sickening moment, there was nothing between her and the ground, between her and the bit of cloth, still attached to the branch, no longer attached to her. She felt her body leave her stomach behind as she started to fall before, a split second later, she felt her fathers hand clasp around her, now sleeveless, outstretched wrist.
He swung her back up, holding on to her all the time, and pulled, heaved and pushed her onto a strong branch next to the one he was hanging from. Breena sat there, breathing heavily, starring at the bark beneath her thighs. Her spirits gathered close around her, touching her face, her hair, the rip in her top.

�See,� she gasped, watching her father unpick what was left of her sleeve from the branch, �I told you I wouldn�t hurt myself.�

�Really?� his voice was low, quiet, and shaking slightly. �Then what�s that then?� He gestured towards her right arm. She looked down at it to see two of her spirits slowly moving across her skin, gently touching the trickle of blood coming from the deep cut that had now take the place her tattered sleeve had been.

Breena looked down at the scar on her arm, still as obvious now as it had ever been and forever would be. She had been in so much trouble for not listening to her father that she hadn�t been let out after lessons were over for what seemed like an age. Instead, she had been kept inside with her mother, doing all the chores and tasks that she had usually tried so hard to avoid.

�See little bird,� she said looking up, �nearly 10 cycles on and I�m still trying to avoid tidying up!� She heard a faint tweet come from the hole as a small piece of what looked like leftover worm came flying out of the hole.

�Hay! I don�t need help making it any worse! I�m perfectly capable of doing that myself, thanks.� One of her spirits drifted over to the worm, lifted it into the air and, with help from one of Breena�s other spirits, batted it back into the hole. There was another tweet from inside the bark. With a grin, Breena poked her tongue out in the bird�s direction.

�Clean up your own mess.�

She turned back towards to book and went to turn the page but stopped before her fingers had touched the paper. She didn�t need to see this next page to know what was on it. She tried to pick up two pages at once but the memory flooded over her like a wave of ice water before she could do anything about it.

Breena stood in the open doorway, her mothers arms around her and tears streaming down her face, leaving lines of fresh skin as her grief washed away the dirt on her face. A light breeze played its way across her arms, leaving goose pimples over them before disappearing once more into the lamp lit leaves surrounding the walkway that led away from her house.

Two men stood in front of her, both with large packs on their backs. Both men�s spirits were flicking from side to side, seeming like they were itching to explore the world beyond the walkways. The first man was tall and skinny and seemed totally out of sorts with his surroundings. He wore a long coat and long material around his neck that no person who lived amongst the trees would think of wearing outside of a fancy dress party. He stood a little behind the second man, playing with a well-thumbed map and tapping his foot on the boards, making the nearest oil lamp sway slightly.

The second man was also tall, but he was strong and powerful with an expression of mixed excitement and sadness on his weathered face. He placed his hands, as strong and as used to work as the rest of him, on Breena�s shoulder and wiped a fresh tear from her cheek and brushed her dirty brown hair behind her ears.

�Don�t cry my sweet, I promise we will meet again, very very soon, but Daddy needs to go away for a while, ok?�

�He�s taking you away from me.� Said Breena with a violent stab of her finger in the first man�s direction. The man shifted his weight slightly but continued to look at the map.

�I want to go,� said her father, moving still closer to his daughter, �I need to go. I need to find out more.�

�More? What more?� It was Breena�s mothers turn to shift her weight this time, at the same time as placing a hand on Breena�s other shoulder. Her father looked up at his wife, before turning his large blue eyes back towards her.

�I have something for you, something that, someday, might help you to understand why I have to leave now.� He pulled from his backpack a large, black-bound book with gold letters on the cover. Breena�s mother gave a cough.

�I don�t think she should��
�I see no problem with giving her a book, I can do no harm. There�s nothing hidden on it.� He added as she started to open her mouth again. �It�s my going away present to my daughter; do you really want to take that away from her?�

Breena turned sharply to look upwards. �Please mum! I want to have it.� Her mother looked between them, father and daughter, so alike, despite their differences.
�You promise there�s nothing in it?�
�I promise.�
�If you�re lying to me��
�I�m not.�
�IF. Your. Lying. To. Me.� said her mother, tapping her foot on the doorframe with each word. �No amount of distance or�or�hidden whatsits will be any use to you.�
�I understand.�
�Come now old man,� said the first man with soft, unconcerned tones, �we really should be making with the off if we want to make Oalk Town by dawn break.�

Breena�s father lent forward and kissed her, tears now winding their way down his cheek as well.

�Remember Breena darling, I�ll always love you. Read the book.� She brushed her lips across his face, taking with it a single tear.

�I will.�

Breena�s father stood up, straitening his coat and bag the shared one last, inscrutable look with his wife before turning to the first man. He packed the map back into a hidden pocket in his coat and, together, they walked out onto the swaying walkway, disappearing behind the cold lamplight and off into the gloomy distance.

Breena looked down at the heavy book in her hands and through the blurry tears, covering her eyes read the gold lettering on its cover.




THE BOOKS OF PROMISE:
FIRST ORIGIN�S
DEATH AND SPIRIT
LORE AND LAW
END OF TIME

CONDENSED FOR PRACTICLE USE BY THE MONKS OF THE CARASIAN TEMPLE
3499CC


Breena�s eyes tracked across these golden words, glinting slightly in the sunlight from the other side of the room. The book had been one of the first things she had unpacked when she moved in. Along with a few clothes and her bed, it was one of the most important things she owned. She had read it cover to cover, many times over the years but had never really found anything in there to explain where her father had gone.

�For the most part,� she said to the empty room, �its just a bunch of old stories that probably aren�t true. Just made up to get people to behave.�

She turned to the next page of the book and gave it a little grin. On it was a pencil drawing, starting to fade slightly, of two people, standing on a walkway between the trees, disappearing into the mist as they walked away.

Breena sat there, a palpable air of gloom surrounding her. She was sitting with her legs dangling over the edge of the walkway, nothing but air separating her new sandals from the ground, invisible through the darkness below. Her hair, usually messy and unwashed, had been cleaned and cut. Her clothes, usually ripper, frayed and dirty though use had been repaired. Everything about her from her hair and clothes to her new sandals ad scrubbed clean skin had the air of a half-hearted attempt at renewal.

She barely noticed the evening mist rolling in around her. She only faintly registered the goose pimples covering her arms. The walkway slowly pulsed backwards and forwards with the swinging of her feet.

It had been almost two years since her father left and Breena had spent them as if permanently stuck between the end of a bad dream and the morning dawn. She had not heard from him in all that time, despite his promises. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn�t bring herself to hate him. She would always love the man who had meant everything to her, and couldn�t see how she was to clear him mind of the fog that blinded it from thinking and feeling. She still did her chores and attended her lessons but Breena could find no enthusiasm for her life and no reason to get involved. She had thought about leaving the village to go looking for her father and the man that had led him away from her, but even in her darkest moment she knew that she was to young and would never be able to find herself safely to anywhere outside of the forest.

�Something�s not right,� came a quiet voice from behind her, �really not right, now what is it?� It took Breena a second or so to realise someone was speaking.

�Pardon?� She said lazily, without looking round.

�I said I think something�s not right, and then I was trying to work out what it was.�

�Sorry,� she replied, �I can move somewhere else if I�m in the way.�

�Oh no, theres no reason to move on,� came the voice, �if you did that I�d be stood here on my own talking to myself, and that doesn�t sound as fun does it?�

Breena turned her head slightly towards the new voice, but all she could see was a pair of plain black shoes, slightly scuffed, the kind you could find on the feet of almost anyone who lived in the forest. When she thought about it, she could see her father in a pair like that.

�Nope,� said the voice after a short pause, �I can�t work it out. Im going to need some help with this one.�

�What do you mean? Help with what?�

�With this situation. You, sat here, it doesn�t feel right.�

�Doesn�t feel right? What�s to feel? I�m just sat here.� She heard a noise from behind heras the newcomer sat down next to her, the black shoes going over the edge of the walkway to be accompanied by a strong pair of grey trousers, well made and well used. She looked the other way and watched her spirits play slowly around her feet.

�Every situation has a feeling. Every person has a natural state, a way of being that�s as comfortable to then as�as�like a favourite shirt, or safety blanket.�

�I haven�t felt comfortable in years.� She said before she could stop herself. �Sorry, I don�t know why I said that.�

�I�m glad you did.�

�Why? So you can hold it over me, worm your way under my defences? Let me guess, we could just pop back to your, no one would know? Sound about right?� there was a long pause as Breena sat there, kicking at the air, scattering her spirits.

�I haven�t got a place I could call mine, no in the way you mean it anyway.� Came a quiet voice from next to her. She felt a slight pang of guilt.�

�I�m��

�No, I�m glad you said it, and its quite the opposite actually. I can�t hold it over you, but you could hold it over me.�

Finally Breena looked up at the person sat on the gently swaying boards next to her in the gathering evening mist. It was a man, young, not that many years older than she was. He had long, dark brown hair tied back with string, woven into his hair in an intricate pattern. His eyes were as green as the Oalk tree leaves and he had a face that looked like it ware a smile easily. He has a long black coat with mud stains on the bottom and he carried a large backpack, stuffed full of what Breena guessed were clothes, although there were some off shaped bulges poking out here and there. His spirits were spread out all around him, they seemed totally at easy with the outside world. One of them floated over to where Breena�s spirits were huddled, but stopped before getting to close.

�How could I do that?� She asked, holding his gaze.

�You�ve shown trust in me, that�s a very honoured position to be place in. I wouldn�t want to do anything to destroy that. You know that im not going to do anything to break that trust. You hold that over me.� Breena, despite herself, gave a small smile. He smiled back. She looked down at her feet and saw that the spirit that had stopped by her feet a moment before was now being surrounded by every one of her own spirits.

�What's your name?� he asked.

�My name? Breena. You?�

�Sayedanard.�

�Sayeden� what?� he laughed, leaning his head back and looking up to the swinging oil lamp above.

�Sayedanard.� He said with a grin as she looked blankly back at him. �Say��

�Say.�

��ed��

�Ed.�

��an��

�An.�

��ard��

�Ard. Say-edanard?�

�That�s right.� He said, still grinning.

�Odd name.�

�Well, odd parents.� She giggled. �So was I right? Is there something wrong here?�

She looked down at herself, she saw her spirits, a few still playing with Sayedanard�s, the others floating off in all directions, exploring the world, as if being let out into the light after years locked in a dark room. She looked at her shoes, her clothes, all new, all tight fitting and smart. She pulled at her hair, longer than she had used to wear it, clean and unnatural.

�Yeah, there is.� She looked back at him and saw him looking back. He had seem through everything she had tried to change, but she didn�t find it creepy or intimidating. Instead she felt relieved, relaxed, freed.

�Want to go do something about that?� He said, his eyes flicking up to hers.

�Yeah,� said Breena, �yeah I do.� The two of them got up, Sayedanard picked up his bag and slung it onto his back.

�What's in that?�

�Oh, all-sorts. Somewhere at the bottom there�s a bit of stone from the walls of the Carisian temple, as far as I know the monks don�t know I have it, but the building gave it up freely and its very useful so��

�Let me guess,� said Breena with a cheeky smile �buildings have a �feeling�,� she made a silly arm gesture as if to hug the air, �as well?� he grinned.

�You�d be surprised.�

�So you�re a traveller?�

�I�ve travelled, yes, but believe me it never comes naturally.� As they walked away along the boards, the leaves and the oil lamps, Breena looked back across at her new friend and again.

�Can I ask you something?�

�Anything.� He replied.

�Anything, really?� He raised his eyebrows.

�Unless you�d rather I was the strange type you know nothing about.�

�You are strange.� One of her spirits flew right across Sayedanard�s path, making him duck backwards out of the way. Breena grinned cheekily again.�

�That�s very true. What did you want to ask?�

�Well I was wondering�is it ok if I just call you Seddy?�

Breena slid the book closed, and let it fall down onto the bed covers, still lost in the memory just as there was a knock on the door.

Author's Note

Its fairly long, and fits in with another peice of work i've submitted called 'An important piece of paper'