—————
James and several of the elves were riding up to Greyside. Somewhere deep in the ancient vaults under that mighty fortress they had preserved and protected all the great and historical relics they had collected over the centuries. Apparently they had a small stash of items related to Cliff and the great wars and James said he’d rather like to see it. So he and Laithe and two others headed up to the fortress, Drift mysteriously appearing and joining them once they were outside the city.
Greyside at noon was very much like Greyside at night. People running this way and that, all with a mission in mind. James did noticed however, that more people seemed to take notice of him this time, though he guessed that had more to do with the high elves that accompanied him than anything else.
They wasted no time and soon James was in a room that looked very much like a kind of museum, with lots of random things on display with shiny plaques explaining what each item was. It was a large and slightly confusing room, almost maze like. It also seemed to be quite heavily guarded. Windowless, the room was lit by candle alone, and shadows played all over the place with the flames' flickering. Overall, it felt very old, massively significant, and a tiny bit creepy.
James slowly walked around the room, turning his head slowly as his eyes traveled over the articles on display. Most of it was interesting enough, but carried little significance to him, and some of it was little better than junk to his way of thinking. Then he saw something that made his heart skip a beat. Something he had heard described many times but had never seen in person. He slowly walked over to the padlocked and guarded case. Inside was a sword, the sword, sheathed in a diamond studded scabbard. This was Cliff’s weapon of choice, he had called it Maizy, and it looked exactly like James had always pictured, except far more beautiful. It was old now, and a bit tarnished, but it was still solid proof that dreams do come true. James stared at it for awhile, letting the whole reality rest on him. Cliff had really been here! These were his things. His biggest storybook hero had been a real living person, and this was the proof.
“Wow!” he said at last, as he turned again to his companions, “It's here, the stuff of his book.”
“Not all of it, I am afraid.” one of the guards said, “Much has worn away with age, try as we might to preserve them.”
James sighed in a contented sort of way.
“We want to see Cliff’s chest.” Laithe asked the guard.
The guard nodded and walked away, returning a moment later with a good sized wooden chest. He gently set it down at their feet and pulled out a small key and fitted it to the lock. It clicked and the lid opened with ease. The guard stepped back and James got down to examine what lay inside.
It was only partly filled and James had soon seen all of the little it contained. A simple dagger, two lovely rings, five unopened letters bound in black ribbon, a set of sealing wax, the wax stamp, a tin mug, and a lot of padding material. James lay it all out around him. Tears stung the back of his eyes, though he couldn’t exactly say why, as he picked up one thing after another and examined each with uncharacteristic devotion and care. The dagger was simple, but obviously it had been Cliff’s third arm. Beautifully kept all these years, but still wearing signs of its age. James took it in and out of its little sheath several times, imagining Cliff doing the same thing so many years ago. The rings were set with precious gems.
“Not from here.” one of the guards said as James held them up to the light, “They came with him from his world.”
James nodded silently. Cliff had clearly been a man of class. Probably a wealthy gentleman of high society in his day.
James then picked up the wax and stamp. A elaborate seal to be sure. But it was the letter ‘R’ and that confused him a little. He asked about it and the guard said that it had been Cliff’s father’s. Another relic Cliff had brought from his world.
“And this?” James asked as he picked up the mug.
“That was a gift to him from the couple who first found him. He kept it with him always, to remember their great kindness to him.”
James turned it over. Too bad he had not thought to start collecting anything from the people who had been kind to him thus far. Though in all honesty, most of them hadn’t gifted him anything in the first place.
He picked up the stack of letters last.
“Why are they all still sealed?” he asked, uncertain if he was allowed to untie the string and look at who they were from or for.
“They are addressed to people from his world. Those who originally found them after he’d disappeared deemed it of great importance to maintain his privacy, and so forbade their opening. Now, though we may wish to read them, we cannot as it might threaten the integrity of them as ancient artifacts.”
James found that somewhat maddening, “Can I at least untie them and read the addresses?”
The guard looked uncertain.
“Let him.” a voice rang out from somewhere behind James.
He turned and saw Aldarin, watching him from a darkened doorway off the side of the great room. Now why was he here?
James looked back to the guard, not sure what to do, “It’s not a big deal, if you’d rather I not. I was just curious.”
The guard shook his head, “The wizard has told you to, and we are as curious as you.”
James shrugged, “Alright then.” and he slowly pulled at the ribbon to loosen it.
Each letter was sealed with the seal of Cliff’s father. Each addressed in a fine steady hand. The ink was faded but James could still mostly work it out. Three for a Miss E. A. Eltsworth. One to a Dr. Ransom Stagwell. And one to My Dearest Mother. James laid them all out before him in that order.
“I suppose Miss Eltsworth was his girl?”
Laithe nodded, “Yes. He mentioned her to me once and how he intended to wed her when he returned to his home.”
James didn’t know if the author had ever married. He didn’t even know the author’s name, but he hoped Cliff had returned to his home and had married his girl and lived a full and happy life.
He patted the letters gently and then picked up the next one, “Anyone know who Dr. Stagwell was?”
Laithe shook his head, “He didn’t speak much of his people back home, much as you don’t.”
James felt a tad guilty about this and so moved on from Dr. Stagwell to the final letter.
“And his mother? That’s interesting. But why would he write at all when he knew there was no way to deliver these? There can be no real communication I suppose. Maybe these are dark confessions. Or avowals of undying love. Or maybe he just wrote to keep his sanity on the hard days.” James sighed.
“Why don’t you find out?”
James turned to look at Aldarin again.
“Really?”
Aldarin didn’t say it twice though. James took that as a yes and he quickly glanced at the faces around him to make sure they were ok with this. They all seemed as curious as he was, though perhaps a bit shocked too.
So, with a deep breath, James picked up the first letter and broke the brittle seal. The papers were so fragile between his fingers; the ink faded and blotted in places; the writing was barely legible, though once it must have been strong and dark. Its contents were what James suspected. Rather mushy. He read it aloud to those gathered around. The next two were very similar in content, though he read them out loud too, as best he could.
The one for Dr. Ransom Stagwell was much more interesting to James’ way of thinking. It was short, but in it Cliff wrote a little of what he had experienced here and told the doctor that if ever he were to return, he would write a much fuller account. Still, why anyone would write a letter when it clearly wasn’t going anywhere was a mystery to James.
“Maybe he wrote what he wished he could have sent.” this from the guard who had been reading over James’ shoulder annoyingly this whole time.
James could see why someone might do that, especially if they were sad and didn’t think they’d ever
return home. Still, it made him happy that Cliff had followed through on his intention to write out his adventures. Maybe this Dr. Stagwell had been a publisher. Or had known a publisher. In either case, Cliff had signed it ‘Sincerely, Sir Clifford’. That was quite different from the last three which had all been, ‘Yours truly, Cliff’. James chuckled. Clifford had been his whole name? How amusing! And a sir? How fancy!
The third and last letter also looked to be the most recent, if you could really call anything that old ‘recent’. In it Cliff wrote of how he missed his mother. He wondered how she fared and asked about how his brother James was. James smiled. It was just a funny little coincidence but it made James feel even closer to Cliff somehow, to know his brother shared his name. Cliff told his mother some about his time here but said now the wars were over, he wanted to come home. He spoke of Elizabeth, probably be the ‘E’ in E. A. Eltsworth. He wrote how he hoped she was still waiting for him. Lastly, he noted that he loved them all dearly and missed them grievously.
James ceased reading aloud and set the paper down reverently. It was all very sad somehow and he had tears standing in his eyes. His heart was strangely full, and yet it ached rather peculiarly at the same time.
And then his eyes fell on the signature at the bottom of the page. Like lightning his gaze darted to Aldarin. The sage old wizard nodded silently and James looked back down at the faded words in unbelieving astonishment.
Ever yours,
Clifford R. Redmond
19
What Everyone Else was Doing
A game of life was being played, with the odds being grossly out of favor for one particular player. The fairy kidnapper was at the end of his rope. With Crispin and his dragon blocking the way forward and the unit behind, he was just biding his time until they closed the gap. Any chance of reinforcements was gone too. He was still too far from headquarters and he was alone. The one time he’d tried to break through, the dragon had swept down and screamed at him, separating him from the guard. Whether that man was alive now or dead, he didn’t know. He’d left the kidnapped fairy on the banks of a little dark pool, hoping perhaps it would appease his pursuers, or at least give him a little time. He'd thought about trying to find a hiding spot, above or below ground, but they already knew his general position and it would be all too easy to smoke him out of any hiding place. The game was coming to an end, he knew it. Two days after he'd left the fairy time ran up and the chase ended.
The kidnapper had spent the greater part of the day slinking along a stream, well, in it rather, to hide his tracks. But as he climbed up the sloping bank several miles downstream, he came face to face with the man fairy, standing resolutely before him, eyes glinting unmercifully.
“By whose orders do you do these evil deeds?” the Reaper’s tone was incredibly calm. And demanding. And without a doubt, vengeful.
The fugitive narrowed his eyes and smirked. Apparently his secrets would die with him. His whole body tensed as he no doubt prepared himself for a final effort.
“Speak up and I will attempt to show some mercy to you and your companions.”
The unrepentant black eyes glittered and the Reaper saw his jaw tighten and I think he knew there was no real chance of getting anything out of the villain.
“What sort of ill mission is it that requires you to kidnap and kill innocent civilians? What kind of excuse do you have?”
And in a flash quicker than sight, an arrow was flying. For a moment a flash of cruel pleasure crossed the criminal’s face as he saw his arrow find its mark. But, the look was soon replaced with confusion as he looked down at his own chest and saw the tip of an arrow peeking through his tunic. A dark stain bloomed out from the hole and he fell to the ground.
The Reaper, whose side was punctured, though not fatally, stepped forward and rolled the other man over with a quick stern look to whoever had shot the second arrow. But the kidnapper was gone. The Reaper rose, mildly frustrated. Even if they still had the two others in captivity, it was a shame, even if he had deserved it. He looked back over to the archer who had killed him. He was coming forward to retrieve his arrow, but stopped when Blacky motioned for him to leave it. A young fellow, probably had been nervous and too high-strung to wait it out.
“I apologize for that. He was under my direction. I think he did it out of nobility, but it was out of line.”
The Reaper waved it off for the moment.
“And we’ve learned nothing about why this is happening. Nothing is any clearer than it was before. What a waste.”
The Reaper was holding the arrow that had been shot at him, “Some things are clearer. And nothing is a complete waste.” and he tossed the arrow to Blacky.
Several of the others were gathering. Even Crispin flew down after days in the air. Shifty had reclaimed his horse when they captured the sentry and had been charged with escorting both him and the prisoner they’d left in the cave back to headquarters.
“So,” Crispin sighed, “what now? The chase is over and the two we have aren’t about to crack. Especially now.”
“We're going to split up and search around for anything that might help us understand what this all meant. And then we're going to bury the fairy, but outside this accursed forest.”
They’d found the kidnapped fairy by the pool, but for all their efforts, it had not been enough to get to him in time.
As orders were being dispensed regarding the man’s body and a search of the surrounding area, Crispin walked over to Blacky who he hadn’t seen since the gorge.
“How’s your wound?”
Blacky pulled aside his shirt to show the healing gash, “Not bad. Still a bit achy, but not bad.”
“Looks as if the captain’s got one now too.” Crispin said, just now seeing the dark stain on their leader's side.
“Yes. Frightened one of my archers unfortunately.” Blacky said as he ran his fingers through his unicorn's mane.
“Well, and what else has my cousin done over the past few days? My story is short enough. I caught up to the two as they fled the gorge pretty quickly and followed them until I got a chance to snap one of them up. That’s when I dropped Shifty off. Good timing too, for I was getting sick of him.”
Blacky smiled, “Pretty uneventful for us. Bovess got reinforcements, while Hollo and I stayed by the gorge. I was well enough when the Reaper’s division passed by, and so joined them, though Hollo chose to go back. Our only hiccup was a meeting with the prince's company. He is taking a journey into Falair it would seem. That was a longer delay than we expected. We then had to catch up to you again to close the gap. We were delayed again when we found the body of the fairy, but only for a bit, and we made up for it marvelously after that because the captain was furious.”
“I was sorry to hear about that.” and Crispin, in a moment of genuine feeling, solemnly stroked his chin where he wished he had a beard. But his face could hardly stay serious for long. Soon his innate cheeriness broke through and he smiled, “So you got to see his highness? I do hope you put in a good word for me.”
“I didn't say anything to him. It was not my place. The captain did all the talking. And he had such a large bodyguard with him, I doubt they would’ve let me anywhere close anyway. All heavily armed and physically much bigger than me. Very threatening and no-nonsense. Well, except for one. I'm not sure I understand that one,” he said more to himself, “But yes, he looked the picture. Exactly what a prince and future king ought to look like.”
“Well, lucky you, that's all I can say.”
Any further conversation was cut off by orders to move out. First they would backtrack to the forest’s edge to bury the fairy, and then they would return to this part of the Tanlyiere to see if they could unearth any of its secrets.
Within a week of the incident, while combing the surrounding acres of forest, they came across the old trail of a cave cat which led them deeper into the heart of the forest. But the deeper they went, the more evil the forest felt. They lost the trail of
the cave cat a day later and were unable to pick it up again or find any others.
The Red Reaper knew it would be unwise to continue on like this much longer, uninformed and unprepared. He knew not what had poisoned this forest, but he had a strong suspicion and it was not a suspicion to be trifled with. He needed time, and regular scouts. He needed to return to Endarc and see what the king had to say about all this. They had scoured and searched much of the forest north of the Perla, the Ruid's twin river which ran through the Tanlyiere roughly fifty miles south of her sister. Most of the Tanlyiere lay beyond the Perla, so they really hadn’t covered much ground yet, but it had been enough to give the Reaper real alarm. And though they had to turn now and retraced their steps, he had no intention of letting this lie. He would send out more, and trained men to search for what it was darkening this place.
So, as James strolled the streets of Clangham and the prince’s company finally descended into Falair, as a messenger sped across Gailli with news of a sickening queen, the Western Guard reached the banks of the Perla and decided to turn back north. And an eerie darkness on the opposite shore seeming to triumph over them. The fact of it was, there really was an evil watching the company as they retreated back away from the river. An evil that had been watching their movements over the past weeks, always from a distance and a little thing to be sure, but black to the very core.
With a wild screech that carried easily across the expanse of water, it turned and sped deep into the heart of the Tanlyiere.
—————
Nearly two weeks later and James was ready to leave Clangham. He had stayed much longer than he had ever intended, but when one really got down to it, there was much to talk about with the elves. Not so much about Cliff maybe, but about the world in general, past and present. And there were some things they wanted to know about him too, and so he stayed on, talking and eating and resting. He never saw Aldarin again during his stay there, the wizard seeming to prefer keeping to himself. But that was alright. James still had plenty to do and to see. He met more people in those ten days than all the other people he had met before combined. But he would forget most of them. But he had begun to get restless. He was out of things to tell or ask the high elves. He was worried he would grow soft and weak too, if he stayed idle much longer.
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