“Do you want to hear the story then?”

“Not really,” she mumbled, but the boy hadn’t heard her or, if he had, he chose not to listen.

“A very, very long time ago,” he began again.

She hugged herself, wondering just how long ago this story took place and how long she would have to endure his rambling.

“There once be a merchant. He cherished wealth above all else. When his wife popped out a baby boy, he named him Ertoi —a great name should you ask me, which means everlasting .”

“ No it doesn’t,” Ule blurted. “It’s not even a real name. Even if I did create that name, it would have to mean something like… snail sludge.”

The boy hushed her. After he wedged the roasting stick between two stones, he continued his story.

“Ertoi grew into a strong, handsome man. Had a talent for carving, he did. Could make everything from just about anything: clay, brick, stone, wood. Since Ertoi could make valuable treasure from common junk, this made Ertoi’s father very happy , what with his love for money. Na that bad at all, eh?”

A gaggle of children led a woman toward the fire, where they sat beyond the circle of light. The woman and her children were wrapped in black shawls to ward off the cold. Their gaunt olive faces floated in the air as they listened.

“The town’s ale maker had a daughter. She be a kind and shy girl, always glanced down at her feet whenever Ertoi walked by, so he never much noticed her until one day when she walked by with her head held high.”

The young boy jumped to his feet and sashayed around in a tiny circle, bouncing about with light steps and twirling invisible long hair. “ G’day ,” he said in a high voice, acting the part of the ale maker’s daughter. Then he strutted, raking his fingers across his chest. With a sniff, he spoke in a low tone and replied to himself. “ G’day .”

The children snickered at the boy’s impression of Ertoi . Even Ule couldn’t help smirking at his antics.

“Their eyes met and Ertoi wondered if she always be so beautiful. Now the merchant absolutely hated the ale maker and thought him a bit of a drunk. On and on he lamented about the girl’s parentage, a family who built their fortune on the fumes of alcohol. What a yeasty bunch!”

The mother laughed this time.

“Is there a point to this story?” Ule tried to interject as more people gathered around the campfire, drawn in by the boy’s words and dramatic gestures. Her question went unanswered.

“ Ertoi fell in love na the less. When his father denied their union, Ertoi fled home and lived the rest of his life in a forest which now be this desert.”

“It was never a forest,” Ule complained. “A grassy knoll maybe, with the odd small wood, but never a forest.”

The woman in black tutted at her. Affronted, Ule gaped at the woman and again at the boy when he resumed the story.

“It once be an ancient forest with ancient trees, and Ertoi spoke to each tree, asked which of them would be willing to  die for love. Of them all, the oldest and the largest bowed with a creak and declared, ‘I will die for your love.’ “

A pang of envy struck Ule. She kept her discomfort to herself.

“ Ertoi lifted his axe.” The boy’s arms wobbled as he pretended to lift some heavy, invisible axe into the air over his head and brought it down to the ground with a slam. “With every blow of the axe, the tree whispered ‘for love’, and he carved a man and a woman on a flower. They be entwined about one another in that love embrace I’m na supposed to know about yet. To this day, sometimes if ya strike the flower and listen real close, you’ll hear that old tree whisper, ‘For love.’  ”

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The Forgotten Gemstone, Book One in A Xiinisi Trilogy

© Kit Daven & Eager Eye Books, 2013.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any matter whatsoever  without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review or critical article.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, situations, and references portrayed in this story either fictitious or are used fictitiously.

Cover art by Sean Chappell, RedFracture .com.