“Wake up! wake up! young prince! today is the day! a day to begin!”

  Shouted a mighty voice. Prince Damron came up out of his sleep like a shot to find it was morning again and Bohga standing over him with a wide friendly grin.

  “Wake up! wake up! so much to do, ho, ho!” Before he could protest, the cyclops might hands were upon him, pulling him from his blanket and setting him on his feet.

  “Bohga! What is the meaning of this?” he said angrily as he tried to gain his balance.

  “There is work, so much work that must be done! ho ho! on your feet, young king! we have so many tasks ahead of us!”

  The cyclops voice boomed as he moved about the cave pushing objects against the wall to clear the room. Prince Damron looked to the edge of the room to find Hoxley coming into view rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  “Why all the clamor?” she asked.

  “WE,” said Bohga, finally lowering his voice to its normal register. “We are going to begin to forge the young prince’s future! We must start today if all is to be in readiness!”

  “Do you mean it?” asked Hoxley. “You’ll help us?”

  “I must admit I was shaken by the implications of your arrival and its meanings, young Hoxley. But upon consideration, I must admit that a mighty task has been laid at my feet! And I am Bohga,” He paused to stomp his feet and beat his chest. “The mightiest of my kind in all this land! I will not shrink from a challenge! A young king has come in search of aid to defend his crown and we all must take up his standard! Fear not, young Damron. We will craft providence like a cape and drape it about your shoulders that you might find your way! But much work and planning must be done in the meantime, come!” He beckoned for them as he exited the cave. The pair of visitors looked at one another curiously before following. Outdoors were buckets galore scattered about the opening of the cave. Come, young prince. We have much work to do.”

  “Why all the buckets?” the boy asked.

  “If we are to craft the lyythium in the manner in which you say we will need supplies.” The cyclops seated all the buckets within one another before stacking them on his cart and starting off down the west side. “Stay here and recover your strength, young Hoxley! We will return at midday!”

  “Farewell! She waved to them as the pair descended the hill. Prince Damron looked a bit confused but the large beasts’ words and enthusiasm looked to be making him less afraid. Once past the tree line and the cave was out of view, the two started down an embankment toward a stream where it flattened out and created a sandy bank.

  “What are we doing here?” asked the prince.

  “Hoxley and I have spoken a great number of things.” the cyclops said, lumbering over to the edge of the water where an entire bar of sand and sediment lay along the bank. “So far, the most interesting thing of her stories is the creation of your lyythium weapons. Following her instructions, it seems to me that casts must be created if I am to one day forge the instruments of your deliverance. You do know how to cast?”

  “No, I don’t.” the boy answered.

  “Then pay close attention and I will teach you the elements of smithing. Cyclops are fine smiths. Our ability to create is no different than birds knowing how to build nests or fly. We are never formally taught but the knowledge lies deep within us anyway.”

  “What’s the first thing we should do?” asked Prince Damron.

  “To begin casting we must first make a mold. A mold is a bin or box that can hold enough sand in which the imprint of an item can be contained. If I were wanting to make a cast of your head, I would need a bin or box with enough sand and room hollowed out for your head to fit within, see?”

  “I think I understand.”

  “See here.” Said Bohga, pressing his large finger deep into the sand bar and pulling it out. The hole retained its shape. “Were I to fill this hole with molten metal, the sand would not burn but when the metal cooled there would be a metal duplicate of the shape.”

  “Now I understand. This is the method you used to create the lyythium.”

  “The method I will use.” Smiled Bohga. “Let us gather the fine sand as it will do a better job of holding its shape. The sediment with larger pieces will create inconsistencies. Use your hands and let us fill our buckets. I will push the cart back.”

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  “That’s a relief.” The prince laughed.

  “Indeed. Let us get started. This is just the first step of many. Have you ever met a cyclops before?”

  “Only when I met you before and you gave me my shield and blanket.”

  “Yes, of course. Why don’t you tell me more about your other friends? The ones you’ve become separated from?” And while the pair filled buckets full of sand, Prince Damron would go on to tell Bohga about the others, the witchkind and non-witchkind and of the shadow girl he found to be enrapturing. “A princess made of shadows? I can’t say that I’ve ever heard of such a thing.”

  “She beautiful, Bohga.” He told him. “A girl made of ink and stardust. She can be as small as a coin or large enough to walk with her waist as high as the tallest treetop. Whenever I dream or have time to think my mind always goes back to her.”

  “You sound quite smitten with this shadow girl.” Laughed the cyclops. “Perhaps the magic your uncle wields is the same as that which made her as she is. If you were to find the source and destroy then you might be able to return her to her flesh.”

  “I’d like that very much.”

  “One task before the next. First, we need to get our faun friend back on her hooves. Then maybe we can find your friends. When that happens, you can make a good plan to fight your uncle and take back what has been stolen from you. Persistence and courage must become as familiar as your hands and feet. There, that is the last of the buckets. Let us return home. We still have much to do.” Bohga took up the heavy creaking cart and started pushing with the prince at his side. “I wonder how it will all turn out.” The cyclops thought aloud.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your fate and that of your friends. Our fates are tied together but nothing is known of how it will end. I am curious, but hopeful and fearful for what awaits each of us.” The cart squeaked and groaned all the way back up the hill where the sand was placed next to the opening. As they did so, a sharp tone filled the air. They each looked to find Hoxley blowing on her witchle. She blew it a second and third time with long strong puffs before playing the tones of the twins.

  “Do you think they’ll hear you?” Prince Damron asked her.

  “I don’t know, but,” she said, looking out upon the horizon. “But I believe it’s worth trying. I’ll play again before sunset.” She said, before glancing down at the buckets. “Why all the sand?”

  “Bohga wants to try and create lyythium.”

  “He does?” she asked with some surprise. “He said it took him years to learn how it was done!”

  “Then those years must begin today.” Said the cyclops as he stood over them. “While I do not doubt my commitment and ability, the resources and methods needed to create such things as your shield and spear will take time and many failures to master.”

  “Failures?” asked the prince.

  “Yes. Every craft or personal growth are to have their setbacks and failures. But without failure and the fortitude to endure it, one cannot appreciate victory.”

  “Those are wise words indeed.” Smiled Hoxley.

  “What can we do first?” the prince asked Bohga.

  “This is all very good sand that we’ve gathered but we must separate the tiniest of grains from the rest so that our casting is of the fist quality. Any job worth putting your labor toward is worth putting your very best effort toward. We will use cloth with the tiniest of holes to separate the bigger grains so that we might have the very best sand. Here, we will use the curve of your shield to catch the good grains.” Bohga demonstrated how to pour sand into the cloth and hold the large square of material by the corners. It was rough cloth which pinched the prince’s already blistered hands but by shifting it around from side to side the cyclops plan worked. The tiniest of grains slipped between the threads and gathered in the concave of his lyythium weapon. It wasn’t a lot for the effort he was putting forth. “Ah, see there? You are skilled at this, young prince. Once we have an abundance of sand this fine, we will have made great progress.”

  “How much is an abundance?” he asked.