The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything

by Susan Skylark

4

  As they made their way back towards Astoria, Jace suddenly stopped, an uneasy look in his eyes. Baye looked soberly at the boy and said, “it is time.” Jace nodded resignedly while Adan frowned in confusion. Said Baye quietly, “a strange and uncomfortable journey lies before you lad, but remember, whatever betide, the Master will never forget nor forsake you.” He smiled warmly, “though brief, I have vastly enjoyed our time together. Fare thee well!” He raised a hand in farewell, but the boy leapt upon him with a ferocious hug. Certainly not blinking away tears, both withdrew from the embrace somewhat awkwardly, and then Jace said to Adan, “we’ll meet again one day, you have been a dear friend.” He gave the flummoxed youth a firm nod and then turned suddenly on his heel and walked away, knowing if he dared look back his heart would break.

  Adan turned questioning eyes upon Baye, who wistfully watched his apprentice retreat into the shadows of the forest as the day quickened about them. Said he quietly to his remaining apprentice, “it is a journey we all must take lad, your own turn will come soon enough, but he must take it alone. There are things he must learn about the Master and about himself and about this new world of which he is now a part.” He turned back towards the city and said quietly, “come lad, we have our own journey before us.”

  Brie nearly trampled them as they entered the castle gates, desperate for some word of her brother. Baye shook his head at her insistent demands, “easy lass, I cannot say of a certain where he is or what he is doing, but know without a doubt that he will return. He survived the adventure with your kidnappers, don’t fret about that, but he is off on another quest and may be some time in coming.” She sighed in frustration but knew she would get no more out of the infuriating Brother. Briane was not sure which upset her the more, that she had been kidnapped in the first place, that her brother had had to rescue her, or that he already wore the uniform of a full Brother! She heaved a furious sigh and flounced into the castle, leaving Adan and Baye to exchange amused glances.

  Jace’s heart was heavy, heavy as it had not been since the morning he stood upon the battlements pondering the futility of life and the purpose thereof. He knew something was coming, a trial that would perhaps be the hardest of his life, but he also knew that beyond it lay something well worth the sorrow and toil that lay ahead. He vanished into the trees and then hid himself in a small grove, away from any prying eyes. A flutter of wings and a flash of white announced the advent of an avian intruder in the little dell, the magpie lit on a branch and studied the boy with his too keen eyes, said He, “are you ready lad?”

  The boy bowed his head, “I have no idea what is to come, but yes, I am ready.”

  “Very well,” said He, “remember, no matter what follows, I will never forsake nor forget you.” He flitted to the boy’s shoulder and the light consumed them both.

  Jace blinked slowly awake, certain that this is how he would have felt had he wakened with his injuries unhealed after his tumble into the gorge. He gasped in horror as he realized his Master’s light no longer pulsed within his being. He sat up suddenly in panic and immediately regretted it. With a groan he collapsed in agony into his previous position. No, he felt worse than he would of had he awakened injured after his fall. Not only had the light vanished, but he felt every insult and injury he had ever taken. His leg ached as it had during his recovery, and he knew his other wounds, once so easily healed and forgotten, had left scars and residual stiffness and pain that he must now bear. Slowly he sat up and looked about, not surprised to find himself clad in the near rags he had worn upon his advent in Astoria.

  He felt at his face and smiled in grim amusement to feel the start of a rough beard. His stomach complained as it had not done in living memory and suddenly he knew he was well and truly mortal. He tried to stand, but his leg was reluctant to bear weight at that particular moment. Hobbling on his good leg, he found a sturdy branch and used it as a walking stick to relieve his complaining leg. At last he glanced about at the local scenery, momentarily content with his physical wellbeing; he was not encouraged by what he saw. It was still winter and he was still somewhere in the northern half of the world, the Wilds by the look of it. Worse, he had no food, no supplies, not even a belt knife. He had never before been so helpless or so alone, save during the desperate flight to Astoria, but that had been of short duration. Here there was no warm and welcoming presence to succor him in his despair.

  He grinned ruefully, but then, neither was he in despair. He might be utterly alone, powerless, doomed to die of starvation or exposure, but his Master had promised never to forsake him, no matter what was to come. He frowned, knowing this was the purpose of this little excursion: he must learn to trust the Master in all things and would be thoroughly reminded that any strength, power, or success in which he was a partaker was far from his own doing. He shook his head and smiled grimly, it would be a lesson well worth learning but far from pleasant while it lasted. With a heavy sigh, Jace set off into the dawning day, with no idea as to where he was going or why.

  He walked all day but encountered no one upon his way and found nothing to satisfy his angry stomach. As evening drew on, he wondered if he had best just collapse in a ditch and be done with it, but the lights of an inn beckoned cheerfully through the leafless trees. Forcing his aching body to take a few more steps, he eventually found himself standing upon the doorstep, knowing he could afford neither food nor a room, but perhaps a little time in front of the fire would be a relief in his current plight. He hobbled into the bright common room and settled in an unobtrusive chair by the fire, hoping the innkeeper wouldn’t immediately take him for some vagrant or renegade and chase him back into the bitter night.

  “You look cold, father,” came a gentle voice. Jace looked up in surprise but hid his astonishment as Kent stood with one hand on the back of his chair, a look of pity and concern on his face. Father? He must look worse than he thought if someone could mistake him for an aged gentleman! Continued the oblivious Warrior, “let me get you something warm to eat, at least.” Jace could not refuse such an offer and nodded his grateful acceptance. As he ate, he mused upon the sudden turn his life had taken, only a day prior he had been a formidable warrior immune to death and the sufferings native to the mortal sphere; today he found himself a wanderer and a vagrant, completely dependent upon the generosity of strangers for his continued sustenance, a man who could barely walk, let alone wield a sword. He was enjoying the irony immensely when the Brother returned and said quietly, “I have arranged a room for you, if you would wish it.” Jace nodded eagerly, but dared not speak, having no idea whether his voice would betray him or not. The Warrior patted him congenially on the shoulder and nodded his farewells.

  In the morning life was a little brighter, much rested and more accustomed to the constant physical pain of his old injuries, he was also pleased to find a small satchel, containing food and some small necessities for a man traveling abroad in the winter, awaiting him. He thanked the innkeeper, who said gruffly, “it is all that Brother’s work, I’d have nothing to do with ye if it were left to me, now take yerself and be gone from my inn.”

  Jace smiled incorrigibly, which looked downright villainous in his current state, nodded his thanks regardless, and hobbled out the door. He had forgotten what it was to need sleep, to ache, to thirst, to hunger, to shiver with cold, or to be lonely; his smile turned rueful as he realized this was but another lesson he was set to learn upon this unthinkable journey. Once he might have thought his time was being wasted in such a pursuit, that he was far more useful chasing bandits and righting wrongs, but he was wiser now and knew that his time and life were not his own, they were a gift from the Master and must be used as He saw fit, which was the only right and proper use of such a wonderful gift.

  Kent’s generosity the previous night touched him deeply, as had the general warmth and charity of the Brethren as a whole, for he had spent his entire adult life amongst them. While he had g
limpsed the darker side of human nature from a distance or seen its results during his adventures, little had he experienced it personally. While his father was an eccentric, he was never abusive or neglectful, the boy had had a full share in everything the man had, little as it was, as had his servants. But that was about to change. A weary beggar, alone in the Wilds, was either someone to be feared, driven off, or preyed upon by most of the denizens thereof. Kent’s generosity would be the last kindness he was to know for a very long time.

  Night threatened to overtake Jace once more but again cheerful lights beckoned him onwards. This was no inn but a humble farmstead. Hoping to earn a night’s lodging and a bit of supper, Jace thought to knock upon the door and ask if he might be of use. He never got the chance, for the farmer saw the reprehensible looking figure approaching and immediately loosed the dogs. With a shriek of terror, Jace hobbled off down the road as fast as he could manage, stumbling in his haste and tumbling into the ditch where icy water from the recent melt waited to greet him. The dogs stood at the top of the bank, growling and fretting, but soon their master recalled them as their quarry righted himself and crawled deeper into the woods, hoping to start a fire. But everything had been doused in the fall so he spent a miserable, sleepless night shivering in the impenetrable blackness.

  He rose with the dawn, hoping movement would drive the chill from his bones, but his spirits had never been so low. He had become so used to the ways of the Brethren, their hearty embracement of anyone and everyone in need, that it grieved him sorely to realize they were the exception rather than the rule in this troubled world. For three more days he hobbled on, cold and aching, but resigned to whatever lay ahead, seeing no sign of human habitation. His food eventually ran out and his stomach again began to protest. At least his supplies had dried and he was able to start a fire of an evening. Around midday he wandered into a small village, the inhabitants stared at him stonily, as if they had never seen a beggar before. He thought to ask someone, anyone, if he might somehow work for his supper and a bed, but their glares said far more than words ever could. He hied himself from that place as quickly as he had fled the farmer’s dogs.

  The wind picked up and the temperature plummeted as evening came on, he knew he must find shelter or he might well freeze. The flickering light of a distant fire drew his attention and he hastened towards it, little knowing whose it might be but knowing it could not be worse than another night alone in the frigid darkness. It was worse, for it was the seediest bunch of men Jace had ever laid eyes upon, and he had seen some rascally looking characters during his brief adventures. Every hand moved towards a weapon as he hobbled into their midst and cold, calculating eyes studied him intently. Jace smiled wryly, he looked as if he might be one of their foremost members.

  His grin faded as one of them demanded, “what do you want, scoundrel?”

  Jace said hesitantly, “I saw your fire and thought it better than spending the night alone in the woods.”

  The man hissed in surprise, “I told you lads someone would see that blaze! Out with it and go without if you can’t hide it better. The last thing we need is one of those thrice cursed Brethren riding unbidden into the camp.”

  He turned burning eyes upon Jace, “get you gone wretch!”

  Jace blanched in terror and turned to comply when a great burly fellow grabbed him by the tunic and snarled in his face with rancid breath, “we can’t just let him go, boss. Who knows who he might tell or what he might say.”

  “True enough,” said the boss, “do with him as you like. Just make sure he never betrays us.”

  The scoundrel shrugged and tossed the captive into the bole of a great tree. Jace slid down the trunk into the gully at its base where the bandits let him lie. They departed with the dawn, a few of the scoundrels pausing in their packing to grin menacingly at him, but otherwise they left him alone. He had felt several bones break upon impact and wondered if something were not amiss internally as well. His breathing was erratic and ragged, his mind wandered, and he had never felt such physical agony. The bandits wandered off and left him to his fate. Was this it then? Was he just to lie here and slowly die of starvation or whatever havoc his collision with the tree had wrought?

  And for the first time he looked his mortality full in the face. He knew if he died here, it would be death indeed, there would be no miraculous waking and further adventures. The Master would not intercede this time, stepping in to alter the inevitable as He had when Jace plunged into the gorge. Neither would this be a glorious unmaking of his physical self, unable to maintain itself in the very presence of the Master. It was death, pure and simple. He would die alone, slowly, and in great pain, unmissed and unmourned. Was this ignomious end all that would come of him? What of the stories, what of the Shadow, what of everything? Was it all a lie? A dream?

  Then he remembered a little bird and a dear friend, both promising he would never be forsaken or forgotten. But then a great raven lit on his chest, driving everything but terror from his mind. He had felt this presence before, knew exactly who this creature was, it croaked, “cast you out has He? Now you’ll die in a ditch, forgotten. Typical! It is not too late; I can yet save you. Bend your stubborn neck and bow to me and I will give you all your heart desires.”

  Jace sighed, “I might be dying in a ditch, but if this is my Master’s will, then so be it. Leave me in peace.”

  With a mocking squawk the raven took wing and left the boy alone with his misery. Jace clung desperately to those words given him upon parting with both Baye and the Master, praying that they might be true. An icy rain started to fall, only increasing the boy’s misery and he began to weep bitterly.

  The wan light of another dawn crept into the little clearing, it fell upon a shuddering, exhausted form, pale in the dim light, but he heeded it not. All Jace knew was cold, pain, misery, loneliness, and darkness; there was nothing else in all of reality, never had been, never would be. He was not sure when his physical shell gave up its struggle to survive, but he felt death’s cold hand about him and wondered if the grave could possibly be worse than his time in the ditch, broken and cold. Everything was darkness, but he felt as if he had some shape or form, if only a darker blotch in the absolute dark of this place. Then it came, it filled him with such terror that he could do nothing but flee before it. It pursued as grimly as the farmer’s dogs had given chase, and he ran all the faster, but the faster he ran the faster it pursued.

  What it was, he could not say exactly, whether some vile creature of the darkness or the darkness itself or even the Abyss opening wide to consume him utterly, but he knew it must not catch him. So on and on he ran, but ever it gave chase, nipping at his heels, slavering just behind him. He knew nothing of exhaustion in this place, only terror and the incessant pursuit. Then the thought struck him, could it catch him why had it not? Was it merely toying with him or was there more to it than that? Suddenly he stopped. His pursuer stopped, growling and fretting just beyond reach. He began to walk and it slunk after, as if it hoped to nip him in the rump when he wasn’t looking but not daring to come closer. He turned and faced the thing, whatever it was, and knew it had no part in him.

  He did not belong to the darkness or to the Abyss or despair or anything else, he belonged to the Master and this vile thing could not touch him. With this realization, the thing howled in despair and fled yipping into the distance. Suddenly there was light in that place, one a glorious, awful light and the other the tepid light of the mortal world. Two doors gaped before him and he knew he must choose. He could pursue that wondrous light into the Master’s own country and vanish forever from all the pain and sorrow with which the mortal world is fraught or he could return to the world he once knew and continue as he had begun. He studied that glorious light for a moment in pure joy and then made his choice.

  Baye stood before the Lady of Astoria, she sat in her chair wearing a look of barely concealed annoyance, demand
ed she, “where are they Baye?” Baye met her gaze evenly but made no reply, continued she, “first Jace vanishes, then Adan, and now Hawk. Where are they?”

  Baye shook his head, saying regretfully, “I cannot say my Lady.”

  She speared him with her gaze, “cannot or will not?”

  Baye smiled ruefully, “happily, this time it is cannot. I do not know what has come of them. They will probably return, but it could be a very long time.”

  She shook her head in exasperation, “am I ever to know the full truth?”

  Baye said solemnly, “not while this life lasts, my Lady. But perhaps one day.”

  She sat back resignedly and asked, “what can you tell me of their fate?”

  Baye replied, “each of us must undertake such a journey, it is the final trial of our service, the end of our apprenticeship as it were. Each man’s is different and unique to his own needs and experience. But we can be gone for as little as five years and up to a century and beyond.”

  She gaped openly at him, “a century? You mean to tell me I may not live to see them return?”

  Baye shook his head, “it is a possibility my Lady.”

  She eyed him curiously, “and how long were you gone?”

  Baye grinned, “about twenty years.”

  She nodded in sudden understanding, “I remember hearing rumors that you were once assumed dead and then miraculously reappeared when no one thought you could possibly return.”

  Baye chuckled, “so it is Lady.”

  She said grimly, “Adan and Hawk may vanish for as long as they please and none may be the wiser, but Jace has a sister and mother who are constantly asking questions and demanding answers.”

  Baye shook his head, “that is one reason for the extended vanishment, to break ties with our surviving kin. Briane may well see her brother again someday but I fear his mother won’t live to see his return.”

  The Lady nodded grimly, “then you may apprise her of the situation.” Baye gaped like a stranded fish but managed a passable bow as he set off to fulfill this unenviable mission.