by Geno Allen
***
Bonus
Through the Dark Wood, Chapter Two:
The River’s Edge
Zam continued north for many days, first through light and airy woods, then through forest that began to tangle and close in, all while traveling jutting, rocky hills that were pocked here and there with boulders. He grew weary. There had been no signs of villages or people, he'd seen no animals or creatures of note, and he'd found nothing to hunt. Frankly, nothing had brought interest to his monotonous march. Beyond that, the weather had turned for the worse, letting loose great sheets of water from the sky. Zam was now soaked to the bone and feeling impatient. This isn't adventure! He grumbled, “This is nothing but a blind march through inhospitable lands at the word of some... some...” He didn't have a word. “What was he even?”
He stopped his march through the rain and gave that a bit of thought. A moment later he threw his hands up and sighed. “A man who vanished into thin air.” The words reminded him how miraculous the event had been, and that softened him. “And… a man who knew things about me that no one could know... how I feel inside.”
The truth was, in a very brief encounter, Graffeon had profoundly moved him. Not since his childhood visit to Sandrey had his heart connected so instantly with an individual. He’d spent a very short time with the messenger, but now the name Graffeon would be forever written on his heart.
Zam's spirit brightened at the thought and he determined to press on no matter how rough the travel. Around midday the clouds broke and the first glimpse of sunlight came piercing through, lighting a clearing as he passed. The breeze was cool, but the sun slowly warmed his face and hands, further improving his mood.
He sat on a round, flat boulder in the middle of the clearing and bathed in sunlight. “I’d wager many have found this a pleasant enough place to rest when traveling this way.”
“I’d wager not,” a voice said from behind him.
He spun around, startled. Thick trees lined the edge of the clearing with gnarled brush peppered here and there about their feet. An unpleasant feeling crept its way up his spine. He shouted with what he hoped was a menacing tone, “Who’s there!”
He was greeted with wind through leaves and nothing more. He pulled out the small knife he kept strapped to his side. It was more for preparing meals than protection, but it was all he had at the moment. The silence continued and he began to doubt what he had heard. After a long while he lowered his guard and sat upon the stone. A while after that he dismissed it altogether. “Don’t be so jumpy, Zam.”
Still uneasy, he set to eating. Just beyond the clearing a pair of invisible eyes watched him. Planning. Malevolence growing. Enjoying his fear. Waiting for the perfect moment.
Zam put the knife away, pulled some provisions out of his satchel, and opened his book once again. Thumbing through the pages, he read the headings aloud.
“Days? No. Un-careful?” He chuckled at that. “No again. Rest? Safety? Safety… I could use a little of that.” Something about the clearing left him with an eerie feeling. He began to read aloud.
“The truth it seems is unmistakable.”
The waiting eyes narrowed.
“But how it seems it may not be.”
The creature crouched low.
“Though much may lay upon the table,
beware of all you may not see.”
It slithered close behind.
“If you desire to keep your safety,
find out what’s held beneath the table.”
A murky black vision began to congeal behind him.
“Plots and death hid there may be,
but that is such you cannot see, without me.”
Fully visible in its coal black, serpentine form, the creature bared it razor teeth.
“I can see what’s above and beneath the table,
I am able. ~ Elyon”
The creature lunged and struck—nothing. It squinted and looked around the clearing. Its prey was gone and night had fallen. The creature was dumbfounded, wondering how its prey had escaped.
Zam had finished the poem and mostly, but not entirely, said to himself, “I’d like that kind of safety, Elyon.”
If one could have looked from the outside, one would have seen the creature as it lunged for Zam and stopped halfway to its mark, remaining there; all the rage in the world on its face, and an evil glee in its eye at the impending fate of the boy before it. But Zam just turned the page and chomped down on dried meat. The creature remained poised to destroy him—invisible and unmoving.
When Zam finished, he packed up what little food was left and moved on. The beast remained. At nightfall the creature’s attack resumed… to no avail. Its quarry was gone, miles away, taking a well-deserved rest out of the reach of evil things.
Several more days passed and Zam’s spirits improved, as did the weather. One glorious morning, as the sun broke over the mountains, he moved with renewed vigor. Something wonderful would happen this day. He would reach the crest of the farthest in a range of hills he used to glimpse on clear days back home.
This hill was farther from home than Sandrey, which was more to the east, and Zam had no knowledge of what lay beyond. It had long been the most distant point he could imagine traveling to. He’d always thought the likelihood of traveling so great a distance was somewhat akin to making his way to the moon. Now here he was working his way up the side of that very hill. He couldn't help but smile. I've almost reached the moon.
A few hours later he reached the crest. It was nearly noon. He breathed in the crisp, clean air. It felt like freedom. He look out over a small valley split in the middle by a large river. There was only one way to cross: a stone bridge set in the middle of a quaint little town right in the middle the valley.
“People,” he said quietly. He'd been traveling for nearly two weeks, and although he was accustomed to lonely times, lonely times away from home in inhospitable woods seemed bleak to Zam in a way he’d never known—which made the possibility of human contact quite appealing.
He made his way quickly down the slope. Just beyond the bridge was a large inn with smoke pouring from the chimney. He imagined he caught the scent of something delicious cooking inside. The inn acted as centerpiece on the march from some larger place to another place presumably more important. Here the people lived simple lives, except for the travelers whose horses and carriages could be easily distinguished from the locals. A large-ish crowd, some poor and others of seemingly high stature, gathered outside the inn awaiting the chime of the dinner bell.
As Zam approached, he spied some children playing near a stream that trickled down the hill to meet the river. Not far from them, an elderly man sat against a small, ruggedly built shelter, watching the children—a broadsword resting on his lap. He twirled the sword in lackadaisical circles.
As Zam got closer to the children the elderly man took note of him and the lackadaisical spinning of the sword stopped, a firm grasp replacing it. The children had yet to notice Zam, so once he was within earshot he called out. “Good day to you!”
The children froze, then turned to see Zam approaching and ran to the shelter.
The elderly man stood slowly, the tip of the sword in the dirt as if a walking stick rather than a sword. He was dressed in a simple tunic and trousers with high leather boots. His white hair shone bright in the sunlight. He nodded to Zam and something in his eyes belied the weakness his actions implied.
“And good day to you too, Stranger.” The man hunched over slightly as if trying to stand comfortably. “What brings you to our little shire?” His tone was pleasant enough, but his look was mistrusting.
Zam approached, choosing to match the man’s tone. “I am on a quest. I’ve been traveling for nearly two weeks and your town is the first I’ve come across since I set out.”
“A quest? To where are you traveling?” The skepticism the old man obviously felt crept into his voice.
Zam figured it couldn’t hurt to tell. �
��That’s just it, Sir. I don’t know the aim of my quest. Merely that I was directed to set out and the quest would find me... I think.” He knew he wasn’t making much sense but he figured honesty would serve him better than pretense.
The old man shifted his weight again, but did not actually put it on the sword. “Hmm... a treasure seeker no doubt, but where is your sword, boy? How can you seek treasure without a sword?”
Zam half chuckled at how ridiculous that must seem. “I was simply told to take this staff and a book that was given to me. I don’t own a sword. And as far as treasure goes, it would be nice to find, but I’m not specifically seeking it.” Zam smiled at the thought and continued. “Truly, Sir, I have yet to determine what my quest is. I was simply told to go north, so north I came.”
The old man looked hard into Zam’s eyes and perceived he was an honest soul. “You don’t have a lie in you, do you, Boy?” He straightened up, flipped his sword into the air, caught it by the hilt, and sheathed it. With all pretense of weakness gone, the old man smiled. “Welcome to Rivertowne. Boring name. I know. Name’s Jacob Galwen Dorria. Townspeople and friends call me Galwen. I own the inn you were spying as you approached. These are my grandchildren.” He glanced toward the children, the elder of whom had crept to the door of the shelter. “It’s all right. This one is safe. Come on out.”
Each child came out and bowed in succession as Galwen introduced them. “This is Dorrin, age thirteen; Keerin, eleven; the twins, Laise and Tannis, both ten; Rheen, eight; Keer, seven, and....” The last was an adorable little girl with auburn colored hair and piercing green eyes. She came shyly out then curtsied, wearing an odd expression as she looked at Zam.
“... this little one's name is Tearis.”
“I’m six.” she said, gazing at him with a smile.
Galwen passed a quizzical look from her to Zam. “She doesn’t often speak to strangers, Master…?”
Zam realized it was a question. “Zam. Uh… Windwater.”
“Well, Master Zam Uh Windwater,” Galwen said with a good-natured smile, making the children snicker. “You say you’ve been traveling for many days… perhaps you could use a room?”
“Yes!” Zam said with more zeal than he intended. “A warm place to sleep and a bed would make this day as good a day as I had hoped it would be.”
“Very well.” A smile added wrinkles to Galwen’s face. “Then… you do have money, eh?”
Zam chuckled and held up a few coins.
Galwen nodded. “Good, good. Wouldn’t want to give you the wrong impression of my establishment. Children, follow.” He picked up Tearis and ruffled Dorrin's sandy brown hair as he passed.
Galwen and the children led Zam down the slope. Soon they reached the River’s Edge, an aptly named inn, as it sat only a short distance from the edge of the river.
Upon showing Zam to his room Galwen said, “I have a good feeling about you, Lad. Perhaps you’ll find the aim of your quest here.” He eyed Zam with a questioning look. “We’ll be having supper shortly. Don’t be late if you want to eat. My patrons don’t have the best manners. When the dinner bell rings, be ready.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
After Galwen left, Zam sat on the bed. Not very soft, but definitely better than the rocks and twigs I've been calling a bed these last few weeks. He opened his book, leaned back on the bed and began to read, but his body had other plans and he fell fast asleep.
He woke to the sound of the supper bell and was up and out in a moment. Two maids were serving food to several patrons and already there were only a few seats left. Zam grabbed one nearest the door, which set him also nearest the bar.
A young woman dropped a plate in front of him. “There you go, Love.” She stood a little too close and her smile was a little too friendly. It made Zam uncomfortable.
A dumpy looking man at the bar called after her. “You don’t look at me ‘at way anymore, Reena. What’s ’is pup got ‘at I aint got?”
“I never looked at you that way, Mort!” she called back, and shot Zam one more overfriendly look as she walked back to the kitchen. Mort scowled at Zam.
The man next to him spoke up. “Don’t worry ‘bout Mort here. He knows he’s too old for Reena, but I tell you what: watch out for ‘er. She’s pretty, but she aint got your best interest at heart... if you follow me.”
Zam thanked him for the warning, and Mort just kept on scowling.
Just then a tall, gentlemanly looking fellow took the seat next to Zam, and Mort and his companion began referring to him in such polite ways as “Fancy Pants,” “Your grace,” and “Oh most esteemed one.” Zam wondered at the man’s patience.
He must have read Zam’s thoughts because a moment later he struck up a conversation. “You have to consider the source of comments like that. It is likely the stubby one was drunk before the sun reached its peak, and will probably pass out before the moon is halfway to its. My name is Phillip Dorgair. And yours?”
Mort was still spouting what Zam would have called fighting words. “Zam Windwater. You are a patient man.”
Phillip smiled. “It pays to be patient in my line of work.”
“Oh… what do you do?”
“I’m the innkeeper.”
Zam frowned. “I thought Galwen was the innkeeper.”
“Oh, he likes to tell people that. I let him work here some of the time. It helps him feed all those grandchildren.”
Zam noticed that Mort and his companion had gone silent. A quick glance to the side informed him why. They were now intently watching Zam and Phillip. Something brushed against Zam’s side and when he turned back Phillip was standing.
“I apologize. I must see to some of the other patrons.”
Zam instinctively reached to his side and found his coin purse missing. “Hey! Phillip!”
Phillip kept walking toward the door.
Zam stood to give chase, but Mort and his fellow were already there in his way.
“‘Ey boy… you aint finished yer supper yet. Where you off to?”
Zam couldn't pay for his room without that money. Then it struck him. “My book is in that purse!” He tried to move around them. “Gentlemen, please. I must–”
“Gen’lmen?” Mort scoffed. “You ‘ear that, Randec? ‘Is pup jus' called us gen’lmen. Them’s is fighting words if I ever ‘eard any.”
Mort drew his sword and Randec said, “Where’s your sword, Boy? A cloak, a staff, and a purse with a book? Well, I don’t see no purse now, but really... that’s no way to go on a journey. How you ‘spect to protect yourself ‘gainst dangerous ruffians?” Mort started jabbing his sword at Zam.
Another voice joined in. “He makes a good point, Lad.” A sword struck Mort’s and swung around flipping it into the air, disarming him. As Mort’s blade came down, Galwen caught it by its hilt and handed it to Zam, who was still trying to catch up to what had just happened.
The old innkeeper’s tone was calm, but intense. “I told the three of you if you caused any more trouble in my inn I’d beat you so you’d remember it. But, as my grandchildren are here and watching, the thrashing I have in mind will have to wait for another day. Now get out. And never cross through my door again.”
Randec took a frightened step back, and Galwen scowled at him. “You can pick up Phillip on your way out. He’s lying unconscious in the hall.”
Galwen tossed Zam’s purse back to him, and Mort stepped toward the old innkeeper. “But ‘at’s my sword! I paid a pretty penny for it!”
Placing his blade alongside Mort’s throat, Galwen calmly said, “Be glad, Mort, that your sword is all I’m taking.” The tone of voice and stern look—not to mention the sword lingering so near to his jugular—made Mort pale.
“Fine… never was much of a sword anyway.” He shouted, “Keep it!” then he and Randec exited. Zam could hear them fumbling in the hall, trying to carry Phillip out.
Galwen turned back to Zam. “Perhaps it would be best if you dined with my fami
ly this evening. You really never have been anywhere or done anything, have you?”
Zam shook his head, embarrassed.
Galwen gave him a fatherly look. “Well, we all start somewhere, Lad. You will need my help… but later. Now we eat.”
A new thought struck Zam as he looked around the dining hall at all the people. This adventure thing is going to be difficult.
As they entered the family's private dining room Galwen introduced his remaining family members. “Zam Windwater, may I introduce my late son’s wife, Molly, and my daughter Barea.” They both greeted him warmly, as did the children who awaited their grandfather to begin the meal. Zam was ushered to a seat across from Molly with Tearis and Dorrin on either side. Molly was a beautiful woman. Her amber hair—laced through with the lightest hint of gray—was bound in a kerchief that brought out brilliant flecks of blue in her eyes. Her smile was warm and motherly. Zam liked her instantly.
Galwen took his seat at the head of the table. “This is my family. I assure you none here will pick your purse.”
Dorrin shook his head and spoke, presumably out of turn. “If Raine were here she wouldn’t have let you fall prey to those thieving fools. Reena doesn’t care what goes on.”
Molly’s expression turned instantly sorrowful.
“Dorrin!” Galwen said—his voice raised not so much in anger as in shock. “We do not speak of such things.” He shifted his gaze, indicating the effect the statement had on Molly.
Dorrin cringed. “I am so sorry, Aunt Molly. I wasn’t thinking.”
She half-smiled. “It is well, Dorrin.” She brightened a bit. “And you are correct. She would not have tolerated such things.”
Zam eyed the whole scene curiously. It seemed every member of the family had been shaken by Dorrin’s remark. Heaviness had fallen over the table. All the while little Tearis continued to stare at Zam with an expression he had yet to figure out.
Molly could read the curiosity in Zam’s face and felt it impolite to leave their new friend in the dark. With a bittersweet smile, she said, “Raine is the name of my daughter, my only child. She used to work in Reena’s place, and no traveler need worry, for though she was gentle, she could be fierce when needed.”
“What happened to her?”
Molly looked off as if remembering and stifling emotion. “It is a sorrow that starts in beauty. Raine was graced with a gift… she could heal the sick and the injured. Never did we think to hide her gift because so many in Rivertowne benefited from it, but word spread beyond our little border. Not long after, the steward of this region, Lord Neereth, came with his soldiers requiring a ‘one-time tax.’”
Galwen interjected. “No doubt unauthorized by the king.”
Molly nodded and continued. “It was a sum greater than the inn’s worth. Even more than we could have earned in a week of years. My husband, Tolwyn, had long since been conscripted as a soldier and was lost to us, so there was no way to pay.” She shook her head sadly. “But, it was a ruse. There was no tax. If there was, we were the only family who paid it. It was simply an excuse to claim a member of our family… my daughter… as a slave. Raine was taken from us to serve the steward in Knighton.”
Zam’s heart grew heavy with the hearing.
Galwen continued the tale. “I set my dear friend Darik in charge of the inn and my family so I could inquire in person as to my granddaughter’s welfare. When I found her, she was living in the lord's keep and being treated very well, almost as a royal for the great services she rendered the Steward. She wrote to us at every chance and we received letters often. We thought—” His voice broke and he swallowed hard to keep back emotion. “I thought she was not at risk of harm, but when Lord Neereth’s son was injured attacking an innocent man, the steward discovered that Raine cannot heal at will. It must be inspired.”
Molly concluded. “Lord Neereth’s son died, and Raine was sold as a common slave. It’s been two years with no knowledge of her whereabouts, and we fear for her.”
Zam felt for them. “I am sorry for you all. Such a heavy loss… I–” he choked back an unexpected emotion that rose within him. Here he saw a family that deeply loved, and who had lost a piece of themselves. What must it be like to be a part of such a family…? … What a selfish a thought, Zam. This family is grieved. “I apologize. I am overcome with sorrow for you.” Zam looked at Molly. “And for your daughter Raine.”
Molly took a deep breath and looked at Zam. “Elyon will decide in mine and my daughter’s life.”
The family raised their cups at that, and Galwen said, “Indeed.”
The others agreed. “Indeed.”
Zam sat bewildered at the mention of that name. This family knows Elyon? He looked at them in wonder. I don’t actually know Elyon, yet it was he who set me on this quest. He wanted to ask questions, but felt foolish to do so at such a time.
Molly offered a wan smile. “Let us speak of lighter things for now. Zam, have you traveled far?”
“I have.” He thought better of it. “Well, farther than I ever have before. Until a few weeks ago I was a shepherd.”
Barea asked, with a jovial smile, “And what are you now?”
“To be honest, Ma’am, I don’t know yet.”
Tearis chimed in with a whimsical tone that matched her gaze. “Yes you do, Zam.” And that was all. She went back to gazing at him, whimsically.
Galwen chimed in, “He’s an adventurer. Look, Zam, you even have you a sword now.”
Zam smiled at that, and Dorrin piped up again. “But does he know how to use it? I could teach him, Grandfather. That would be fun.” A good-natured but impish grin crossed his face.
The other children moaned at the suggestion, and Galwen said, “Now, Dorrin, your methods of teaching seem to rely solely on showing off your skill with a blade, and never giving a bit of instruction. That will never do.”
The entire family laughed at that, even Dorrin.
Zam felt oddly happy sitting at this table with these people. Each one asked him questions about himself, and though he felt most of the answers quite dull, the family seemed to enjoy every minute. Later when both the meal and conversation were done, Galwen asked Dorrin to lead Zam back to his room, and to be sure that no one tried to reclaim that sword. Zam puzzled at that.
“Don’t worry, Zam,” Galwen said as he stood. “Neither age nor stature will win a battle. Rather heart and skill are what’s required. Dorrin is an excellent swordsman. Even at his young age his reputation with a blade will keep certain thieving fools away.”
Zam thanked everyone for a wonderful meal and Galwen for rescuing his purse.
The old innkeeper chuckled. “Well, I couldn’t leave you without a way to pay for the room.” Molly gave him a good-natured jab with her left elbow. It made Zam smile.
All the children were clearing out, and Just before Zam stepped into the hall he heard Barea say in a hushed tone to Molly and Galwen, “Did you see the way Tearis was looking at him? What was that?”
Galwen said mater-of-factly, “She sees something in him.”
Molly agreed. “That's true, but it seems more as though she knows him.”
Dorrin pulled on Zam's arm. “Come on, Zam… you don’t want to wait around here. You’ll need some shuteye if Grandfather and I are to teach you how to fight tomorrow.”
“Oh, I can fight, Dorrin… just not with a sword.” He listened, but heard no more of the hushed conversation.
The morning dawned with a thirteen year old boy waiting, hovering, at Zam’s door. “Come on. Enough sleeping. It’s time to fight.”
This must be what having a younger brother is like…
“Come on, I said.”
I think I might like that.
Dorrin was ready with two wooden training swords. Once he and Zam were outside he threw one to Zam. “Here’s yours.”
Zam looked around. The morning was beautiful, the brightest day he had seen in weeks even before leaving home. Many of Galwen’s grandchildren we
re gathered around to see the bout between Zam and Dorrin. Galwen hadn’t come out yet.
Dorrin struck Zam in the back.
“Hey! I wasn’t ready to start!”
Dorrin's impish smile returned. “Your enemy won’t say, ‘By the way, would you mind if I attacked you now?’ Will he?”
“All right then.” Zam set a large grin on his face and took a battle ready stance.
Dorrin took a swing. Zam tried to block it, but Dorrin’s sword came down on his fingers and Zam dropped the sword. “Ouch!”
“You have to protect your hands… they’re important.” Dorrin chuckled at how clever he was and continued swinging. Zam dodged each swing as he reached for his sparring sword.
“You’re pretty fast,” Dorrin said as he moved around for another strike.
For a moment it seemed the world slowed down, and an unpleasant change came over Dorrin. Something crept into his countenance, some ill toward Zam. He violently swung for Zam’s face as Tearis shouted a warning.
Zam moved just in time. “Hey! Be more careful, Dorrin! That would have really hurt!”
Dorrin's eyes were glassy, almost vacant. He didn’t speak at all as he lunged at Zam, becoming more aggressive with each swipe of the wooden blade.
Zam couldn't understand the rancor coming from Dorrin and the darkness that seemed to gather. He blocked several blows in Dorrin’s onslaught, but one struck him in the shoulder. It hurt. He looked for a moment at his shoulder and found blood there. When he looked back at Dorrin to protest, he wasn’t there.
Nor was Zam himself, it seemed. Instead he found himself standing in a clearing, surrounded by a dark and tangled wood. Panic began to take hold of him as he looked about for Dorrin and the other children. They were all gone. Zam turned a circle about the clearing. And when his gaze fell to the place he had last seen Dorrin, a large black dragon with armor-like scales, razor-sharp talons, and teeth like scythes was standing in his place. Terror ran through Zam.
The black dragon spoke. “You will not claim my prize, Boy. I have captured her and she is mine. I will have my supper, and I might add you to the meal. Or perhaps I’ll save you for breakfast.” A swipe of the dragon’s massive talons tore past Zam’s ear as he dodged the blow, but just barely. His wooden sparing sword was gone, and he was holding the sword that once belonged to Mort.
Zam tried to spy the prize of which the dragon spoke. Dodging another strike, he saw: on a large rock at the edge of the clearing, with a wall of dragon’s fire separating her from the rest of the forest, Tearis lay unconscious. Zam was first seized with fear and then confusion as he tried to understand how the dragon had taken Tearis and how he himself had come to be here.
A rage began to boil up in him, and recognition struck. Tearis looks at me as though I’m a hero. Now she needs me to be one. Otherwise she will die, and she is far too young for that!
To this point the dragon had been toying with Zam, but now it leapt on him like a lion on its prey, its right foreleg pinning him to the ground under its massive weight. Its razor teeth snapped shut so close Zam could feel the breath on his face. He wedged the sword between himself and the dragon’s head to keep its maw from closing a death grip about him. The sharp point slipped between two scales and cut the dragon. The beast reeled back.
Tearis awoke and looked around in terror. “Zam!” He turned to her and the dragon swept him aside, coiling most of its frame around his body. It began toying with him again, snapping its monstrous jaws shut inches from his arm, his chest, his head. It repeatedly knocked him to the ground with its horns. Tearis stood on the rock watching in horror.
Bruised and bloodied, Zam refused to give up against this impossible foe. Standing once again, on legs less steady than he desired, Zam pointed the tip of his sword at the dragon’s heart, “Beast, she is not your prize! You may try to claim her, but she... is... not yours....” His strength was failing, and that struck a deeper fear in him for what would befall Tearis, who stood now in shocked silence.
The dragon spoke in a sickeningly peaceful tone. “Boy, you are going to die, as will the girl. But for all your valiance perhaps I’ll dine on you this night and save her for breakfassst.”
“No!” Zam shouted and leapt with all his remaining strength, striking the dragon with his sword. The force of the blow hurt Zam’s hands but the dragon was unfazed. Zam swung wildly at the dragon’s neck, chipping at scales, which threw sparks with every strike.
The dragon coiled back and hissed out a trail of smoke. “Careful, Boy.” The smoke made Zam’s eyes burn so badly he couldn’t keep them open.
Eyes closed and burning from the fumes, he continued swinging, hoping against hope he would strike some weak point. He couldn't see that the dragon was scheming, slowly bringing the lance-like tip of its tail into position behind him.
Sulfurous vapors still blinded Zam, yet slowly he began to see all that played out. His eyes were still closed, he was still swinging his sword without any real aim, and he still felt a mix of terror and rage, but somehow he could see Tearis on the rock, see the tears running down her cheek. He could see the dragon coiling its tail behind him—his own stature so small and weak in comparison. Then, as the last moment of his life was about to pass, he saw the razor tip of the dragon’s tail swing around and strike him squarely in the back, piercing him with a deathblow.
Tearis screamed his name and Zam slumped forward, away from that part of the beast which claimed his life. The scaly lance flowed back down to the ground stained with Zam’s own blood. As these visions passed through his mind, the world slipped into inky black, and Tearis’ sobs echoed through his mind along with sorrow for his failure and the second great loss that Galwen’s family would now have to endure. Then he saw nothing.
“Zam! Zam are you all right?” The voice was Dorrin’s, then Galwen’s.
“Zam, speak to me!”
Zam wasn't yet sure what was happening. Didn’t I just die?
“I only hit him once.” Dorrin said hurriedly. “Well, twice. Once when I gave him the sword, but that was nothing, and once I hit his fingers when he was blocking wrong. I was going to go easy on him, I promise. I didn’t–”
“Quiet!” Galwen held up his hand to silence Dorrin.
Zam was moving, coming around. He opened his eyes to see Galwen looking down on him with concern then noticed that Tearis was also at his side. There were tears welling in her eyes.
Tearis!
Fear for her surged through him as he flashed back to what might have happened once the dragon finished him. But we’re here…! He was more than a bit confused, but thankful.
“There you are, Lad.” Galwen leaned down and whispered, “You should really save those visions for moments when weapons aren’t being hurled at you.”
“What? How did you...? ” Zam was bewildered again, and growing quite accustomed to it.
“Later, Zam... we will discuss it later.”
Zam looked around and saw that the whole clan, as well as several others who dwelt in Rivertowne, had gathered around in concern for him. It was an odd feeling since Zam couldn't recall anyone ever having been concerned for him until recently. He gazed at the family, still disoriented.
From the corner of his eye, he spied Mort standing among the townsfolk, eyeing him, Galwen, and the children. There was malice in his look and he was plotting.
Galwen dusted Zam off and spoke to the crowd. “Look at these sad faces. He’s fine. Go back to what you were doing, and thank you for your concern.”
Some of the villagers nodded and went on their way, but the family all closed in to be sure Zam was truly unharmed.
Keer, the seven year old, asked, “Did Dorrin hurt you? I’ll kick him for you.”
Zam smiled at that, “No, Keer, your brother did me no harm. I’m all right.”
Keer and Tearis grabbed Zam by the hand, attempting to help him up.
Having heard that interchange, Galwen ruffled Keer’s hair playfully and took Zam’s hand also, h
elping him to his feet. “Breakfast first,” he said. “Then after, Dorrin and I will teach Zam to use his sword.”
Zam agreed, and finally feeling stable on his feet, he picked Tearis up and carried her. He needed to keep her safe. The dragon’s fire and Tearis’ terrified look flashed through his mind. The effects of the vision would linger, as would the weight of Mort’s evil glare.
Zam shifted Tearis to his other side, farther from Mort, and whispered, “I’m all right, Tearis, and I will always protect you.”
She leaned her head close against his shoulder, contented. “I know, Zam.”
This must be what it’s like having a little sister…. I think I would like that as well.
Breakfast was over. The women and children cleared out, and Galwen sat with Zam alone at the table. “There are times when my granddaughter just knows things. She often will not share what she knows, but she knows nonetheless.”
“She knows something about me. I heard you, Molly and Barea talking about it. That was all I heard, but I’ve felt since our first meeting that she knew something about me. It was unsettling at first.” His demeanor was grim. “But now it’s more.” Zam started to choke up, thinking of what would befall her if his vision proved true.
Galwen sensed a deeper issue at hand. “Outside you asked how I knew about your vision.”
Zam nodded.
“Well, sometimes that's just how it is. Like my granddaughter knows things, when you came to, I simply understood what had happened.” Zam didn't understand so Galwen changed tactics. “Do you know Elyon?”
There’s the question of the year. “No... and yes.” He sighed. “It was he who sent me on this quest… but I knew nothing of him until the messenger came….” he tried to find the right words.
Galwen chuckled and shook his head. “Elyon and a messenger? That’s why you don’t know the aim of your quest, Lad. That’s often how he does things, in my experience. Tell me what you can, and I will counsel you as well as I am able.”
Zam shared all that had transpired since his first vision while watching over the flock to his vision of the dragon.
When he was done, Galwen sat deep in thought with much heaviness on his heart. “You have done well thus far, Zam. I believe, though it chills me to say, that this most recent vision may truly be a vision of things to come.”
Zam was heartsick at such a thought, and sorrow filled his voice. “Tearis....”
Galwen paused a long moment, looking at Zam, before he smiled and spoke again. “Do not fear, Zam Windwater—truly. Instead hear this. I just told you, in essence, that you may die soon, and this is the man that you are: your concern was not for yourself, but for my granddaughter. You’ve shown me Elyon’s scroll, and from all I know of him, he would not send you north simply to die—leastwise to die in vain. I believe this is a vision of what might be. You were allowed to see it so you may thwart it. Take heart.” He clapped Zam on the shoulder. “Elyon will decide in yours and my granddaughter’s life.”
Oddly those words did bring Zam comfort; even though they’d said the same about Raine who was now living as a slave in territories unknown. They had moved to Galwen’s study when it became obvious the conversation would consume most of the day. Now, after many hours discussion, Zam and Galwen were exhausted.
Handing Zam a belt and sheath for his sword, Galwen said, “We’ll pick up your training in the morning. Your charge for the remainder of this day is to rest. Think not on dragons or tragedy.” Zam smiled halfheartedly in acceptance of his mandate. They returned to the dining area just as Tearis and Keer came bursting in.
Tearis said. “Zam, come and play with us!”
Keer added. “Yeah. The sun won’t be up much longer. There isn’t much time left to play. Come! Quick!”
Galwen smiled. “Well, that might be just the kind of rest you need. Go on.”
Zam’s heart lightened as the two children took his hands and pulled him out the door.
Molly entered as Galwen took a seat at the table. He shook his head and said, “That boy has a good heart.”
Molly nodded. “He reminds me of Raine.”
“Indeed… though he still needs to learn to use a sword.” Galwen’s brow furrowed. “Molly, ask Darik to keep a lookout for dragons on his watch tonight.”
“There hasn’t been a dragon cross out of Darlandis in your lifetime, Galwen.”
“Nonetheless, ask him. And, Molly… pray.”
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For the rest of the story, pick up Treasures of Darkness ~ Treasures of Light, Book One: Through the Dark Wood.
Thanks for reading!
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