The Four Gifts of the King

by R. Scott Rodin

  “Great character traits,” Reed snorted. “Oh, sorry, Mer, I didn’t mean…”

  She waved him off. “That’s okay. In a lot of ways you’re right. But I adored her. One day I got to sit in on a policy meeting she ran. She was brutal. She all but eviscerated her biggest rival. It was painful in a delightfully triumphant way. Anyway, as we walked out I mentioned my admiration for her aggressive approach. You know what she said to me?”

  Reed smiled. “I can guess.”

  Merideth returned the nod. “She said, ‘Merideth, if you want to get what you want in this life, you must be willing to do whatever it takes.’ That became my mantra. I wrote it as my screen saver and scribbled it atop the notepad for every meeting I’ve led.”

  Alex put his hands in the air. “Did Dad know that?”

  Merideth shrugged. “I didn’t think so, but now…”

  “Wow,” Anna added.

  “Wow indeed,” Reed replied. “Well, I guess we’ve all built our ramps. We’ve all used people at one time or another to get what we wanted. We’ve all done whatever it takes at one time or another. I mean, that’s business. That’s how you get ahead. You build ramps or you end up in the crusher.”

  Alex gave a thoughtful nod. “Yup, I agree. In my world, you either press forward or fall back. There is no neutral or sideways. Success comes to those who take it, and everyone else slides back. If some get caught in the slide, well…then they do. You can’t change that. So it seems the lesson is to learn how to build ramps without hurting people?”

  Merideth exploded. “No!”

  The three siblings sat back, eyes wide.

  “It’s not the ramp building. Did you catch it? I mean, Reed, Alex, you’re right to a point. It’s my world as well. Dad knew that. But there’s something deeper here that Dad’s saying. It’s not about better ways to build ramps or treating people better or even about the use of power for your own gains. That’s all there but it’s secondary.”

  Now she leaned forward and all three of them leaned with her.

  “Don’t you see? What Dad’s talking about is abandoning the whole drive for ramp building in the first place. It’s about not being driven to do whatever it takes. Cassandra’s conversion is about appreciating where you are, about being satisfied, about…”

  She paused, and Walter finished her thought. “Contentment?”

  She opened her lips to continue then just shook her head.

  Walter pushed the discussion. “I think you’re right, Merideth. If Cassandra was content in the valley, there would be no ramp building. Perhaps that’s the lesson of Ascendia.”

  Reed looked around the room. “Contentment. You know, that word feels right in here. I was trying to find the right word to express it. My feelings, I mean. I sensed it when I first walked through the door yesterday. It’s hung in this room since we started the book. Walter, I think you’re right.”

  Alex and Anna nodded their agreement. But not Merideth. She was looking at the ground. Her tension showed as her chest rose and fell, and her knuckles grew white from her grip on the armrest.

  Walter pushed once more. “Merideth, what are you feeling?”

  She looked up, scowling. “It’s contentment, and I hate that word.”

  “Why?” Reed asked.

  Well, here we are, at the heart of it. I can’t run…can I?

  Total vulnerability or more walls. This was the moment. Four sets of ears waited.

  Honesty oozed at first, then ran in a torrent.

  “Why? Because it contradicts everything I stand for. It means I stop being driven by what other people think of me. It means I set aside the measurement of success that the world has established and I pursue every day of my life. It means I stop comparing myself to others, envying and hating their success. It means I allow myself to enjoy today instead of believing that happiness won’t come until tomorrow, until the ramps reach the mountain, until I have won. Contentment? It’s like a rogue wave wiping out all the sandcastles that I’ve spent my life building.”

  She was breathless, almost shouting as she flashed her gaze from one sibling to another.

  “Don’t you understand? It means everything collapses around me; my defenses, my justifications, my rationale that gives me room to do…whatever it takes. It’s impossible! It’s too much. I’m a ramp builder. I can’t go back, not now. I’m a lost cause.”

  Suddenly an image flashed through her mind. A Phaedra, whispering and smiling.

  Oh…dear…God.

  Lies, deception, distortion. She’d bought them all.

  “Help me.” She was shaking.

  All three siblings ran to her side, kneeling and holding her.

  “Mer, it’s okay, we’re here.” Anna put her head on Merideth’s shoulder and held tightly. Merideth felt the touch and heard the soft words of assurance from the three people in the world who loved her most.

  Like a balm to an open wound, their love began her healing. Her shaking slowed, then stopped. She collected herself, but this time there was no urge to save face.

  A first, small victory.

  “Thank you. I—I think I’m okay. I’d like to step outside for a breath of air.” She rose and walked to the hallway. There was Walter.

  No more games. She stopped and embraced him.

  “Thank you. You’ve put up with a lot from me over the years. Give me a little time, but I’d like for us to be friends.”

  Walter beamed. “We already are.”

  Once reassembled, Alex led them into the final chapters of the story.

  chapter

  Twenty-Two

  In the emptiness of the Tohu Wa-Bohu, the assembly of hooded figures debated the events of the past few days.

  “It cannot be Steward of Aiden Glenn. I tell you I saw him die with my own eyes on the rocks of Starr Hill. It’s the king’s illusion.”

  “I agree. And we must not be fooled. He’s buying time. He knows that Steward’s death would mark our great uprising. So why are we waiting? We must act now.”

  “I hear the ramps in Ascendia are being torn down!”

  “Yes, and the poor of Petitzaros have received the Elixir of Mah Manon. The people of Remonant have emerged, and much of our work there is being undone.”

  “Silence!” The leader rose from his chair, his arms outstretched and his bony fingers reaching to the ceiling. “If you are all so wise, why do you not see the larger plan unfolding here? The king is luring us into a trap. If we believe that Steward is alive, we will, no doubt, pursue him again. If we worry for Marikonia, we will amass our people there. All the while, the king works to build his army for a last futile attempt to banish us again to this detestable place. No, we must not be lured into this trap.”

  A Phaedra stepped up. “If Steward is indeed dead, then we must gather our forces and make for war. Even if we lose Marikonia.”

  “And Seudomartus,” another said.

  The leader glared and shot back. “We shall never lose Seudomartus! It is our greatest victory and most important stronghold in all the kingdom. And it lies at the very foot of the throne room of the king. Seudomartus will always be ours because the hearts of the people there remain content in their delusion. They are satisfied by their own wisdom, reason, and, yes, even their own spirituality.” A satisfied, hissing sneer reverberated from the hooded assembly. “The good and wise people of Seudomartus will remain forever beyond the grasp of the king.”

  The lead Phaedra walked to the map hanging on the wall. He ran his bony finger across the Golden River and down Kildrachan Plain, stopping on the place of the Ancient Fortress, just above Aiden Glenn. “We must amass our army and return to the fortress of our ancestors. From there, we will wage the final war against the king.”

  The leader paced then turned to the assembly. “This is our last and greatest hope for victory. We have made great progress in the hearts of the kingdom’s people. Their resolve is weak. They are too easily swayed and cling too tightly to the things that gratify them
. They have no stomach for real war, and we must use that advantage—and fast.”

  He drew in closely. “Now, take the word to every corner of the kingdom. Assemble everyone at Kildrachan Plain, across the Golden River at the site of our last great battle. From there, we will move to the Ancient Fortress, and the victory will be ours.”

  The king stood looking out over the land from the rooftop of his castle.

  A warrior entered behind him. “Great king, I have come to announce that the crushers of Ascendia have been destroyed. There is also news that some ramps have been abandoned.”

  The king turned to look at the massive warrior standing before him. “Thank you for your good report.”

  The warrior inclined his head and continued. “The poor of Petitzaros have been reunited with the people of Remonant, and some of the people have shared their Elixir. There is a new sense of hope in the kingdom.”

  The king turned back to his vista and shook his head. “The liberation has begun, and Steward’s work is admirable. But so many remain lost. The Phaedra have infiltrated the entire kingdom with their lies and distortions that even the Great Liberation may not be enough.” He turned. “We are headed for war, and nothing can stop it now. We must prepare. Begin to amass the armies. Take word to Steward and the party that they must complete their work at once, then ride to Kildrachan Plain at the far southern end of the Fungle Woods. We must stop the Phaedra before they reach the fortress. Now ride, and the Deep Peace be with you.”

  The warrior bowed to the king and left. The king swept his gaze across his kingdom. Hurry, Steward. The time is short.

  chapter

  Twenty-Three

  Dunston sat alone. He stirred a small fire that cast early evening shadows across the bubbling bog to his left and danced up the trunks and into the branches of the massive trees looming over him.

  He stared into the fire. “I am certain Elopia reached the ramps and alerted Cassandra of the plot. They seized Steward and Astrid. The Phaedra must know now that he is alive and will plan for war. All is lost, and I am to blame!”

  The clamor of approaching horses sent him to his feet.

  The Phaedra! They are coming for me! Well, let them have me. I will not run. What good am I to anyone now?

  A horse emerged from the forest, and he stood, head down with arms straight out in front of him. “Take me. I will offer no resistance. I am your prisoner. Only treat me with dignity, as we did your ancestors.”

  The riders reined their horses to a halt then dismounted. They walked up to him, and the one in the back called out in a deep voice, “I think we should kill him!”

  Dunston couldn’t hold back a whimper as he waited for the lethal blow. One of the riders drew near, knelt down, and said in a soft voice, “I don’t know. He doesn’t look very tough to me.”

  Dunston opened his eyes wide. Not tough? He’d show them! He craned his neck up to face the foul creature and—

  “Astrid!”

  His friend grinned down at him.

  Dunston blinked. “You’re safe…and so am I!” Then he looked over at the other rider who stood near—Steward, who was laughing.

  Dunston shook his head. “You all but killed me with such a fright. But I am so very glad to see you.”

  They embraced, and Steward clapped him on the back. “Come, let’s sit and we’ll tell you what happened.”

  Steward, Astrid, and Zedekai told Dunston the whole story—making sure to tell him the important role he played in distracting Elopia just long enough for their plan to work.

  “So, you are a hero!” Steward said.

  Dunston wouldn’t have it. “No, I am no hero. But I am glad to have played a part. Now we must prepare for Marikonia as soon as the warrior band rejoins us.”

  Astrid stood and looked out over the swamp. “How shall we liberate Marikonia?”

  “And what of Seudomartus?” Dunston added.

  Steward stirred the fire with Dunston’s walking stick. “The key to Marikonia lies with the sons of Abner…and Tristin.”

  Dunston grabbed his stick from Steward. “Tristin? I think he’s hopeless.”

  Steward wasn’t ready to agree. “I will at least take the challenge to him. The liberation of Marikonia must come from both sides, from those who see themselves as less than they ought and those who see themselves as more than they ought. Both must see themselves as the king sees them.”

  “I agree,” Astrid said, “and what of Seudomartus?”

  The thundering sound of hoofbeats rang through the clearing. Before they could take cover, the clearing was filled with warriors—not just their ten companions, but more than twenty of the king’s warriors.

  One dismounted and approached. “We have ridden directly from the palace with words from the king. The time is short. The Phaedra have begun amassing an army for the march to the Ancient Fortress. The king has called all of his people to prepare for war.” He turned to Steward. “Steward, you and your party must complete your work with all haste. You must make for Marikonia at first light, and from there to Seudomartus.”

  “We will do so,” Steward replied. He flashed a look at his companions. “But we have no plan for the liberation of Seudomartus. Did the king send any word with you?”

  “The king will tell you the plan when you need to hear it. His timing is perfect. Go to Marikonia and Seudomartus with the Deep Peace of the king.”

  They shouted as one voice. “The Deep Peace!”

  At first light, the party of liberators took off. They rode out across Pitcairn Moor, which became a broad and firm path under their feet. They charged down the steep path that had caused Steward such a fall, and they rounded the bend to the outskirts of Marikonia. In the distance, Steward could see the smoke billowing from the foundry at Abner’s shop.

  Steward pulled his horse to a stop. “I need to do this alone. Ride on to the edge of Seudomartus and find one of the Starr Hill Faithful. Coordinate a plan with them to take the truth to that deluded city. I will join you soon when my work here is done.”

  Astrid took hold of his arm. “Steward, can you do this alone? Let me come with you…”

  “And me! We will not leave you to this work without proper backup,” Dunston said.

  Zedekai rode up next to him. “They’re right, Warrior Steward. It is not safe to go alone, now that the Phaedra are amassing for war.”

  “Very well. Astrid, Dunston, and I will ride into Marikonia. Zedekai, lead the warrior band on to Seudomartus as planned. We will need you to be in place if we are to complete our work in such a short time.”

  Zedekai signaled to the king’s men. They bowed their allegiance to Steward and rode away.

  Steward turned his horse toward town. “Now, on to Abner’s house. But once there, I will go in alone.”

  When they reached the edge of Abner’s property, Steward dismounted and walked with well-placed steps, his approach drowned out by the sounds of clashing steel and hissing steam from hot metal thrust into the vats of cool water.

  He’d left here in a sea of grief and anger. How would they react when they saw him?

  Steward walked in, and Abner shot him a glance of surprise then looked back down. “What brings you back to Marikonia?” His tone was cool. “Word had it that you died in Seudomartus.”

  “Abner, I have seen the king.” Steward waited for a response.

  Abner gave none. He continued to beat the steel rod in front of him. As he thrust it into the vat of water, he looked at Steward. “You have, huh? Well, what did he say?”

  Steward walked closer to Abner, catching sight of Troy and Trek toiling over a large sheet of tin. They saw him and looked back down at their work.

  This will not be easy. “Abner, the king gave me a gift for you.”

  Abner set his hammer down and glared at Steward. “For me? I doubt that. What interest would the king have with a blacksmith living on the outskirts of Marikonia?”

  “He has a great deal of interest in you.” Steward tu
rned and looked at the two boys. “And in both of you! All of you!”

  Troy and Trek set their tools aside and walked over to Steward. Their steps were cautious.

  Abner turned off the bellows, and for the first time the blacksmith shop fell quiet. “Go on. What did the king send?”

  Steward removed his satchel and dug into it. The three men studied him as he pulled out the Reflector. Unlike those Abner and his family already had, this Reflector was gilded in gold—and shone the true reflection back to everyone who looked into it.

  Abner recoiled, his face contorted. “Another Reflector? Bah! What good is that to us?”

  “It is no good to you at all”—Steward paused—“unless you have the courage to look into it.”

  That stopped Abner in his tracks. He spun around. “Look, young Steward. We have been through this before. Our Reflectors have shown us who we are. What more would the king have for us to see?”

  “Your true self, Abner.” He nodded to Troy and Trek. “And yours, and your mother’s. The king has sent me to show you your true nature, your undistorted image. It’s right here…if you have the courage to look.”

  Troy and Trek watched their father. He stood motionless. Finally, Troy reached out his hand. “I will look.”

  Steward smiled. He held up the Reflector toward the tall, blond young man and turned it in his direction. As Troy caught sight of his reflection, his face lit up.

  “Incredible! Look at me! Will you just look at me!”

  Trek jumped forward and saw his brother’s image. “Let me see mine!”

  Steward turned it toward Abner’s younger son, and the response was the same. “Sons of thunder! I can’t believe that’s me! Father, you must look. We both look so…so…”

  “Right?”

  Troy and Trek looked at their father. Troy stammered, “Yes—yes, that’s it. I look … right, like I should look, like I always hoped I looked.”

  Abner walked over and reached out his hand. Steward saw that it was shaking. He placed the Reflector in the blacksmith’s powerful hands. Abner took a deep breath and turned it toward himself. He gazed into its smooth surface, studying the reflection. His face remained emotionless. Then he began to smile. He looked over at his sons then turned it in their direction again. He looked at his sons as the Reflector shone back their image. His smile broadened.