The Four Gifts of the King

by R. Scott Rodin

  Steward would know that voice anywhere. He grinned as Dunston elbowed his way around the legs of the great knight and stood before Steward.

  “Dunston, my little friend. It is good to see you again.” Steward tried to find a way to embrace the little creature, but he would have nothing to do with it.

  “If I am correct, I saved you two times…once at the moor and once from that nasty Nagas.”

  “Yes, your spectacles. They did save me from a fate worse than death.” Steward laughed, then his tone grew more serious. “And, Dunston, I do thank you for your service to the kingdom and to me. The king has told me of your past. You’re so brave, far braver than I will ever be.”

  Dunston looked back at Steward. “My people have paid a heavy price that we might see this day.”

  Again the expectations. Even with the sword, and the encouragement from the king, he was no Liberator. When would they see he was just a boy from Aiden Glenn?

  Dunston came close, pointing his stick in Steward’s chest. “You are, you certainly are.”

  Steward gaped at him, and Dunston gave a sniff. “We Interpreters can hear a heart as well as a voice.”

  Steward looked around. “I count only fourteen of us, and where is the final member for the banquet?”

  The ten soldiers, Zedekai, and Dunston all moved away from the entry, revealing one more figure that now entered and came into the light of the banquet tent.

  “Astrid!” Steward ran to her and embraced her, wrapping her in his arms and holding her tight. They looked for a long moment into each other’s eyes, and it was as if they were the only two people in the entire kingdom.

  The king cleared his throat. “The banquet is ready, and the chairs are now filled. Come and let us feast together.”

  Servants brought an endless stream of platters with meats and fish, vegetables and dried fruits, cheeses, puddings and cakes, and the best wine in the kingdom. They ate and drank and laughed for hours. Steward recounted many stories of his adventures in the four lands. Astrid and Steward retold their story, even standing together on the edge of the banquet table to act out their daring plunge off the end of the Ascender and their crash onto the supporting beams below. The mood was happy and festive, and in the distraction of the great feast, Steward lost his fear and began to take heart in the power and ability of the company around him.

  As the night wore on, the king called for the guests’ attention. He directed the discussion toward more serious business. “This is a night for the entire kingdom to rejoice. I have waited for this night for centuries, as have we all. But now we must talk of the serious matters before us. Tell us, Zedekai, what is the status of the Phaedra’im?”

  They followed the great knight as he spoke.

  “The Phaedra’im are still convinced that they have won a great victory. The news of Steward’s death in Seudomartus brought much celebration to the land of the Phaedra. And they still believe he is dead. They are content to wait for now, but they will surely plan an offensive against those who remain loyal to the king. We have but a little time to act without their discovery of our young friend’s immortality.”

  The king’s eyes narrowed. “Then we must act with great speed and care.”

  Zedekai was confident and powerful. Surely he will lead the battle. “Please, king, tell me what we are to do. Tell me…why I am here.”

  Astrid placed her hand on his arm and gave him a look of reassurance.

  The king stood and walked to the wall of the tent. He pulled out a large map, and two servants hung it from the tent ropes so all could see it. The king looked at it for a moment and then turned to his guests.

  “We are here, in Kildrachan Plain. This is the most sacred site in my kingdom. It’s the place where the Phaedra’im were conquered. It is the site from which the decree was sent out banishing them from the kingdom. It is the very place…” He paused. “It is the place where my son fell. And it will be the place from where we will launch the final great assault on the enemies of this kingdom.”

  He pointed to the locations on the map as he spoke. Steward could now see how the entire kingdom was laid out. The meadow into which he emerged on his first day—indeed from the very edge of Callater Pass—was actually the southernmost edge of Kildrachan Plain. In a full day’s ride from where he sat, he could be home.

  “The plan is this. Steward, you will lead this band back along the eastern edge of Kildrachan Plain and around the southern edge of the Fungle Woods. Here you will intersect the road near the place where your journey began. From there you can journey north and revisit all four lands.”

  Lead the band? Revisit the lands? Steward stiffened. “I am sorry, good king, but I do not understand. Why must I go back to the lands I visited? I have seen the gifts you have given them. I understand the distorted way each one has been used and misused. I have learned the lesson. What else can I do?”

  The entire assembly watched as the king walked to Steward and placed his strong hands on the young man’s shoulders. He looked him in the eyes. “You must set them free.”

  Set them free? Me? “How am I to do that?”

  The king stepped back and looked at everyone assembled, then back at Steward. “With the truth. The truth about who they are. The truth about the gifts I have given them and how they are to be used. The truth about the Phaedra and the truth about me. That will be your greatest weapon. And with it you will carry out your destiny. You were born for this, Warrior Steward. I gave you your name. I called you to this journey. I have given you these comrades. And I will be with you in victory. Trust me, Steward.”

  Those words resonated deep in Steward’s heart. Something welled within him as he looked to the thirteen people around the table—and to Astrid. For the first time, he knew that the task was his to do, even if he felt unprepared to carry it out.

  “I do trust you, my king. And I will do my best to lead this band through the cities of the kingdom and proclaim your truth wherever it may be heard.”

  Strong words, but Steward’s doubts lingered.

  The king smiled. “Now you must know more about our adversary, the Phaedra. They started as my special legion, trusted with the secrets of the kingdom and called upon for wisdom and strategy. But one day they revolted against me and sought to create their own kingdom. They built an impenetrable encampment, and their strength grew over the decades. There existed a tense but manageable truce with the kingdom of the Phaedra’im until the birth of my son was announced.”

  The king paced as he talked. “The Phaedra’im had planned to wait and endure my reign, then retake the kingdom at my death. But when my son was born, they realized there would be one to carry on after I died. And so they began planning their assault. They tried to overthrow me once, upon my son’s second birthday, but their attack failed and many of their ranks were lost. Twice they planned to kidnap my son, and twice, through the courage of my army, the plan failed.

  The king looked at Steward. “The rest is known to you—the great battle of Kildrachan Plain, the banishment of the Phaedra’im to the Tohu Wa-Bohu, and the deception of the gullible leaders of Petitzaros. Once the Phaedra’im regained access to my kingdom, they weighed their options and chose against another attack. Instead, they planned to lay hold of the hearts of men, seizing on their weakness to turn them against me. To destroy my kingdom from within. They exchanged physical weapons for spiritual.”

  The king pointed to the map, moving his finger from place to place as he spoke. “Little by little, the Phaedra gained access to the cities of the kingdom. They not only blended well into the life of the four lands, they also ingratiated themselves to the richest and most powerful people in the kingdom, which assured them protection and access to power. In time, the Phaedra caused greater damage to the kingdom than the Phaedra’im had done through countless military attacks over centuries.”

  Zedekai stood. “That is why we will fight them—not with arrows or blows from the swords of mighty men, but with clear and simple
truth from the mouth of a young man from Aiden Glenn.”

  Astrid stood with him. “And you will be heard, Steward, because your heart is right and your spirit is pure. If you speak the truth to them, they will listen.”

  Oh, to have her confidence! “But what if we are confronted by the Phaedra?”

  Dunston struck his cane on the ground. “You mean when we are confronted, for they will surely stand and fight when they must.”

  “Then”—Zedekai drew his sword from its scabbard—“we shall deal death blows to them again.”

  The king stepped in between Steward and the great knight. “However, my young Liberator, we must not seek outright war with the Phaedra. Not yet. They are still a very powerful enemy. You must do all you can to complete your task while engaging them as seldom as possible. Truth and grace must be your first weapons, not swords and arrows.”

  Zedekai nodded and sheathed his sword.

  Keep the sword close! “Can the Phaedra be killed?”

  Dunston shuffled forward. “The Phaedra are more spirit than flesh. The spirit of a Phaedra is like a parasite. It uses its physical form as a means to enter and move about our world. A fatal blow to the Phaedra will send its spirit screaming out of its flesh and back to the depths of the Tohu Wa-Bohu. All that is left behind is an empty robe, and one more Phaedra is gone forever.”

  Zedekai patted his scabbard. “They are skilled and clever warriors, but they can be defeated.”

  Steward hoped he was right.

  “And now one last thing.” The king stood at the map again. “Once the Phaedra know that you are alive and leading the charge through the lands of the kingdom, I am confident many will retreat and prepare for war. I do not believe they will return to the Tohu Wa-Bohu, but instead they will assemble again in the Ancient Fortress of the Phaedra’im.” The king pointed to an area in the south. “There they will make their plans for war. If we are to avoid such a conflict, we must not let them get there.”

  Steward looked at the map then moved for a closer look. “Where is the Ancient Fortress?”

  The king placed his finger on the spot. It was written in old script, and Steward squinted to decipher the blood-red ink: “Ancient Fortress.”

  Right below was the more readable description.

  Steward gasped. Village of Aiden Glenn.

  “Aiden Glenn?” He stared at the king. “My home is the site of the Phaedra’im’s fortress? How can that be? I lived there all my life. I’ve climbed every hill and walked through every valley and glen. I know that entire country like my own room. I’ve never seen any sign of a great fortress.”

  The king’s gaze was steady, his voice calm. “The Phaedra’im’s fortress is built at the top of the great mountain that looms over Aiden Glenn. The thick cloud that hangs over the countryside of Aiden Glenn was formed by the Phaedra’im to keep those who lived in the valley from seeing to the top of the mountain. My dear Steward, you and your ancestors lived innocently, never knowing that the greatest evil to beset this kingdom had its stronghold right above your housetops.”

  Zedekai leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table. “Every year when I came to receive the assurance from your parents that you would make this journey, I looked across to the empty fortress before descending through the clouds and across Callater Pass. I vowed each year that the man who emerged from beneath the ramparts of that evil fortress would one day return to tear them down.”

  Astrid was now beside him. “So, you see, Steward, the Liberator was born in the very shadow of the enemy’s stronghold.”

  He looked from her, to the knight, to the others. “And if the Phaedra return to amass and plan for war, they will gather on the mountain above my parents’ house.”

  “Which is why we must not let that happen.” The king folded the map and returned it to its sheath. He turned and raised his hands toward Steward. “Not at any cost.”

  The entire company responded. “Not at any cost.”

  And with that the banquet was concluded.

  The king took Steward aside and led him out into the cool evening air. They walked onto the expanse of Kildrachan Plain. They did not speak but just took in the beauty of the night sky, the stars, and half moon that hung low in the eastern sky. They could hear the distant sound of the Golden River as it roared through the rocky ravine before slowing to a wide, peaceful flow along the western edge of the great plain.

  It seemed at first that they were walking without a purpose, but soon Steward sensed he was being led somewhere. They climbed a slight rise in the plain and emerged at the top of a small, domed hill that gave an even more impressive view in the moonlight. Far behind them were the voices of the camp and its crackling fire. Ahead was the expanse of the plain rolled out to the horizon.

  The king continued a few feet and then stopped next to a stone that looked like it had been set upright and placed with great care. As Steward drew near, he saw that it was a headstone for a grave. The king knelt, grief evident in his heavy sighs. Then he stood and turned to Steward.

  “Warrior Steward, this is the grave of my son. He fell at the place where we are camped, and we buried him here. I wanted you to see this place and know the price that was paid so we might see this day.”

  Steward’s throat constricted. A painting of the king’s son hung in the great throne room, and Steward had studied the man’s noble features. Anyone had only to hear the king speak of his son to know the depth of his love for him. Such grief and anguish must be with the king every day.

  But this new reminder of the responsibility that was being laid on Steward rekindled an anxiety that now threatened to overwhelm him. “Good king, I am overcome by the faith you and the others have put in me. I…I know the strength of your ten warriors, and I have great confidence in Zedekai, Astrid, and Dunston.”

  “Then what do you lack?”

  “It’s me. I have no confidence in me!” He spread his hands before the king. “How do I lead, and why should anyone follow me? I am not equipped for such a task. It’s too great for me. Please, please, dear king, don’t send me out to fail. I can’t bear the thought of failing you or my colleagues or the kingdom…and your son. I can’t fail him, not at the price he paid. Please tell me how I am to lead and not fail.”

  The king took Steward by the shoulders. “Steward, my dear Steward. You must remember that it is not whom you are leading, but who is leading you that determines the nature of your legacy and the success of those who will follow you. Listen to my voice. Trust me and follow me. Do that and you will have all you need to lead others.”

  That was the last time Steward would speak of his doubts. The die was cast. Later, as he tried to sleep, the challenge before him rolled over in his mind.

  All four lands. That means Czartrevor, Cassandra, Tristin…and Abner. And it means a return to the Ascenders, the Sacred Mount, the Halls of Wisdom, and Philandra. My hope must be built on the king alone. Trust, Steward. Trust.

  The dawn’s first light was enough to wake Steward from a fitful sleep. He rose and dressed. He strode from his tent, aware that the time was at hand for the last great episode in his journey. The ten soldiers were already preparing their mounts. Zedekai was placing supplies in his satchel. Astrid emerged from her tent dressed for battle, which took nothing away from her beauty. Even Dunston looked like a warrior. He would ride with Astrid, since no horse small enough for the little creature could ever keep up.

  Steward looked around but did not see the king anywhere. Then he noticed that the king’s tent and the tents of his servants were packed and gone.

  Zedekai was saddling his horse.

  “Where is the king? I want to say goodbye and ask for his blessing.”

  “The king is already back in his palace. He asked me to give you this.” He handed Steward a small round shield with the insignia of a crown on it. As Steward examined it, he found words inscribed on its rim:

  it is not whom you are leading but who is leading you that will determine your le
gacy.

  Steward smiled back at him. “It is just like yours.”

  “It is the signature of the king. All those who carry it do so in his name and with his blessing.”

  Steward placed the shield on his saddle, in full view for everyone to see. He gathered his satchel and strapped it to his horse. Then, donning his sword, he climbed aboard the great steed and waited for the others to gather.

  “Today the sword of truth will be wielded throughout the kingdom until the enemy is vanquished and the people of this kingdom know again that the king reigns in splendor and power and justice and grace.” Steward raised his sword to the sky and then, joined by his thirteen companions, cried out, “This is the day of liberation!”

  He kneed his horse and galloped across Kildrachan Plain to the east, toward the Fungle Woods.

  ~~~~~~~~~

  “The adventure is on!” Reed was bouncing in his seat.

  “And we are near the end, from the look of it.” Merideth leafed through the remaining pages.

  Walter sat forward in his chair. “Alex, why don’t you read from here? There are only a few chapters left.”

  He would prefer to listen, but it seemed appropriate for him to read the end of the story. He prayed he could face whatever was left in his dad’s message to him in these final chapters.

  “I’ll be happy to. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”

  They stood to take a short break, and when all had gathered again, Alex was back in front of the book. “Let’s see how Dad chooses to end this story.” He slid a large pillow behind him then pulled them all back into Steward’s battle for the kingdom.

  chapter

  Twenty

  Steward’s horse scared up a flock of mourning doves that exploded into the air as the group’s horses galloped along the path that led to the hillside overlooking Petitzaros. Steward arrived first and pulled his horse to a stop. The others joined him, the steaming breath of their tired horses filling the crisp morning air. Steward dismounted and walked to the edge of the crest. He watched as the morning sun glistened against the rooftops of the sea of little castles filling the valley below.