The Four Gifts of the King

by R. Scott Rodin

  Steward trembled, confusion and anger mixing with the fear of death. Everything he had believed and trusted was being dismantled, destroyed.

  Don’t believe them! But I saw the king…heard his words. Betrayal? Left alone, abandoned? Astrid, Zedekai, and Dunston gone? We are defeated. King, I believed in you…where are you?

  The Phaedra removed his boot and stepped back, giving Steward room. He struggled to his feet, bleeding and reeling, and looked out across the sea of black robes.

  This is hopeless. Have I been forgotten, left to die? So be it.

  The lead Phaedra closed in again, whispering in Steward’s ear. “Admit your failure. Abandon your journey. Renounce your loyalty to the king, and we will let you pass so that you may return to Aiden Glenn. It is over, Steward. Go home. There is the path.”

  The Phaedra pointed to a trail that led to the south. “Take it, Steward. Don’t you want to go home? Lay down your sword and walk away. I am offering you your life. What is your choice?”

  The army of hooded figures stood silent, as though waiting for their final victory in Steward’s reply.

  He looked at them and then down at the sword that hung at his side. He reached down and slid it from its sheath. He studied its shining blade and the ornate hilt that fit his hand as though they were one. As he did, one Phaedra drew close, putting out his hands to accept it as the sign of Steward’s defeat.

  Something deep inside him began to fill his limbs with energy. As the unfamiliar power surged through him, he lifted the mighty weapon and struck the Phaedra, sending the spirit screaming through the air as the empty robe collapsed to the ground.

  The lead Phaedra recoiled, hunched his back, and turned to the gathering. “He has chosen! Let us enjoy every moment of the death of Steward of Aiden Glenn.”

  The sound of swords being unsheathed filled the woods. Steward stood his ground, raising his sword as the black mass of Phaedra streamed forward.

  He slew the first wave, but there were too many. Two then three or more were upon him, knives at his throat when—the ground shook beneath them. Not like an earthquake, but as if someone were pounding on it with a mighty hammer. The pounding was rhythmic, powerful, and growing stronger. Everyone froze. Waited.

  In the distance, a single horseman rode toward them. His horse was white, and his robes were crimson and purple. He wore a hood that covered his face, and in his hand was a sword that sent shafts of light like spears into the darkness. He rode as if in slow motion, and each time the horse’s hooves hit the ground, it shook. It was a terrifying sight.

  At first the warring Phaedra stood silent, as though mesmerized. Then they turned in full retreat.

  Too late.

  The horseman rode headlong into their midst. Screams rang out as robes of the fallen Phaedra were strewn across the clearing. The army turned and swarmed on the lone warrior, but his sword sent row after row to their deaths. No sooner had the horseman appeared than the Phaedra were defeated, with the last of them fleeing deep into the Fungle Woods.

  Steward stood in the clearing, watching the warrior as he examined the black robes that now carpeted the forest floor. His horse snorted, as if to approve the slaughter. Then the warrior turned his horse and walked it up to Steward.

  Steward struggled to speak. “Thank you. You…you have saved my life. Who are you that I may thank you properly?”

  The horseman gave no reply. He circled his horse around Steward, examining him. Then they stopped.

  “Who are you? That is the question.”

  Steward hung his head and dropped his sword. “I’m Steward of Aiden Glenn, or Warrior Steward. I, I’m no longer sure which one. According to the king, I am the Liberator of the kingdom. But if all my work is undone, if my companions are dead, and the battle lost, then I am just a boy lost in a dream who wants to go home.”

  The horseman pulled his horse aside to expose the road. “If that is who you are, then take the wide road leading south from here. It will take you to Aiden Glenn. If that is what you choose, the road awaits you. It is wide and easy, and you will be home by midday tomorrow.”

  Steward looked down the road.

  Yes, it’s time to go home.

  He picked up his sword and sheathed it then turned toward the road. “Thank you, whoever you are. I am going home.” Steward started down the wide road to Aiden Glenn.

  “There is another choice.”

  Steward stopped and turned back. “What other choice?”

  He pointed toward a small path that led into the darkness of the heart of the Fungle Woods. “You can walk into the night through the Fungle Woods to Kildrachan Plain. Was that not your destination?”

  “It was, but all that is lost now. My companions are dead, the lands I tried to liberate have abandoned the truth, and maybe…maybe even my own king has forsaken me. I don’t know, but I have no reason to go to the Plain. My journey is over, and my cause is a failure.”

  The warrior paced his horse again. “Steward, do you trust the king?”

  Steward breathed deeply, searching for some answer that could satisfy his torn spirit. Just hours ago, his answer would have been unequivocal. Now he didn’t know what…or who to believe. His face hurt, his spirit was crushed, his heart ached for his companions, and he was exhausted.

  “I don’t know anymore. So little is clear. So much is left unanswered. Nothing of this makes sense, and I feel alone and forsaken.” He looked up. “No, I can’t say that I trust the king anymore…but I do so want to!”

  The warrior studied Steward. “Tell me about the sword that hangs at your side.”

  Steward ran his hand across the hilt of the wonderful sword, and his mind took him back to that glorious day when he stood in the presence of the king in his very throne room and was handed the sword.

  His spirit ached. “It’s a gift from the king.”

  “And with the sword came also your name, did it not?” The warrior’s horse paced back and forth as he questioned.

  “Yes, but I’ve certainly failed miserably as a warrior.”

  The horseman drew close again and stopped in front of Steward. “Why do you doubt in the darkness what was revealed to you in the light? If you truly doubt the king, then return home along the wide road. But if you know in your heart that his word to you is true, then trust him even in the darkness and take the narrow and perilous road to Kildrachan Plain.”

  The words were compelling, but Steward replied, “I still have so many questions. I don’t have the courage or the strength left. Can’t you tell me more? Tell me that what I saw in the mist was not real. Tell me the king is trustworthy. Tell me the Phaedra were wrong. Tell me why Astrid, Dunston, and Zedekai had to die. Give me some answers so I can journey to the Plain.”

  The horseman made one more circle. “Choose, Steward, which path you will take.”

  Steward stared into the blackness of the small path that seemed to lead to nowhere. He turned to the horseman, but he was gone! Steward examined the choice that was before him. The path back to Aiden Glenn was so inviting, so easy, and so wide. The small, dark path into the woods looked even more menacing. This was his moment. This decision would change his life forever.

  ~~~~~~~~~

  “Choose the path into the woods, Steward,” Anna blurted out. She was sitting on the edge of her overstuffed chair with her hands to her mouth, hanging on every word of the story.

  Alex smiled, sharing her anticipation. He read on.

  ~~~~~~~~~

  Steward walked down the path leading to Aiden Glenn. The horseman’s question kept ringing in his ears. “Do you trust the king?”

  He heard the king’s own words: “Trust me, Steward.”

  And he saw Astrid’s face. How he longed to see her again. He stopped. If he continued home, it would all be lost. Everything they’d done. All they’d fought for.

  Courage. Confidence. Trust.

  If my journey ends, it will not be in Aiden Glenn. It will be here, to die by my friends. This is
my journey, and I won’t end it as a coward. Tomorrow the entire Phaedra army will overtake me, but tonight, I will obey.

  Steward turned and walked back to the edge of the narrow path—and took the first few steps into the darkness.

  The path was hard to follow, and only the faint moonlight allowed him to keep from walking into the brush and overhanging branches that lined the way. As he struggled on, he could feel spider webs across his face. Terrifying sounds came from all directions. Why did he take this path?

  But he could not turn back now.

  He fought on until the brush and spider webs seemed to close in on him and clog the path ahead. It felt as if a thousand small hands were grabbing at him, and he began to twist and turn to get away. He pushed his way through the unrelenting brush and fell over a log that lay across the road, hidden beneath the vegetation. He struggled to get up. He was being suffocated by the impossible tangle of vines and branches that held him tightly to the earth. He was shaking, struggling to free himself, but getting more and more entangled.

  “Help me, my king! Help me or I will die!”

  At that, the vines and branches wilted around him. He sat up, and—

  He was free!

  He stood and took a few steps forward. Then he heard the snorting of a horse. He walked with careful steps in its direction. The path had widened in front of him. As he made a wide turn, he saw a saddled horse with its reins hanging down to the ground.

  “Easy, boy. Easy now.”

  Steward approached the horse. “Don’t run…don’t run…” The horse shook its head and looked right at Steward! The animal seemed to be waiting for him. He reached for the reins, and the horse did not move. Steward climbed into the saddle and turned down the path.

  Without any prompting, the horse began to trot, then gallop, and race faster than Steward had ever experienced. The woods flashed by, and he hung on for all his life as the mighty horse rounded turns and cleared hedges at a speed that outpaced the wind. Turn after turn, Steward gripped the reins and fought to stay on his mount, and the Fungle Woods became a blur as he and his horse were transported through the night by some great force.

  As the light of dawn began to color the trees of the southernmost edge of the Fungle Woods, Steward’s horse slowed to an earthly pace. It seemed as if time itself had been suspended and only moments had passed since he came upon the horse. He looked around and—

  He was there, emerging from the Fungle Woods onto Kildrachan Plain.

  ~~~~~~~~~

  “Good choice, Steward,” Anna cried.

  Alex set the book down. He walked out of the room, across the hallway, and into his father’s study. He placed both hands on his dad’s desk and slumped over, hanging his head.

  “Are you all right?” Reed put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “I guess Dad made his point.”

  “And then some.” Alex drew a breath. “That’s me standing in that clearing, hearing the words of doubt and despair that everything I believed in might be wrong. That was my decision that Steward faced. But I chose the wide and easy road and abandoned the calling on my life.”

  Reed faced his brother. “Steward didn’t make his choice out of any great insight or sense of calling. He made it out of sheer faith, even when nothing made sense. You still have that faith inside you, Alex.”

  Alex slumped into his Dad’s office chair. “I did once. But after Mom died, I just couldn’t find it anymore. I had nothing left. Nothing for myself, much less anyone else.”

  “Maybe that’s where God wanted you.”

  Alex glanced toward the doorway and saw Anna there, resting her head on the door jamb.

  She shrugged. “I mean, in the end it is all about trust and faith, isn’t it? Maybe God wanted to get you to a place where all you had left to lean on was Him. Only faith and a scary, dark road.”

  Alex nodded. “Maybe, but I’ve gone too far down the wrong road to get back to a place like that.”

  Merideth peeked around the corner. “Hey, big brother. You okay?”

  “I don’t think I’m supposed to be okay. So, no, actually.”

  She walked over to him. “There’s a lot of hope in the story, don’t you think? I mean, Steward made it through to the Plain, right?”

  “Because he was saved by the king.” Alex turned in the chair. “Some of us aren’t so lucky.”

  “Not yet,” Reed said. “I think we all could use a word from the king. It’s not so easy, but I do have to admit I’m thinking more now about what it takes for that to happen.”

  Anna arched a brow. “According to the story, just an ounce of faith.”

  “An ounce is more than we can muster sometimes.” Alex couldn’t help the bitter tinge to his words.

  Anna hugged him. “You have it, Alex. We all know you do. Give yourself a break and listen to your heart. Dad believed in you.”

  “And so did Mom,” Merideth added.

  Reed looked straight into his brother’s eyes. “And so do all of us.”

  Was it too late? Was he too far down the wrong road?

  “Thanks. Thanks. I don’t know what to do with all this, but we better get back to the story if we’re going to get home today.”

  They reassembled in the living room.

  “I’d like a break, if that’s okay.” Alex planted himself on the loveseat, away from the open book on the table.

  “I’ll be happy to read.” Merideth took the position by the coffee table.

  “We’re quite near the end,” Walter said. “I believe we should be able to finish and get you all on your way home before dark.”

  Merideth turned the page to the last chapter.

  chapter

  Twenty-Eight

  Steward led his horse along the southernmost edge of the Fungle Woods. His eyes searched across Kildrachan Plain. To the west were the treed valleys, where the Golden River flowed. To the south, the hills were a brilliant gold in the early morning sun. Beyond them, Steward could see the outline of the Ancient Fortress of the Phaedra’im. East of that, he could just make out the gray mist that hung over his hometown.

  Steward prepared himself as he looked for the place where his companions fell.

  They shall be given a proper burial. No matter how long it takes.

  His heart broke at the thought of finding Astrid’s lifeless body. His grief mixed with caution; he didn’t wish to encounter the Phaedra army. Just then, he heard the snorting sound of a horse in the distance.

  He dismounted, trying not to make a sound. He crept along through the underbrush until he could see a lone horse standing in a small clearing, just a few yards into the forest. He drew his sword and eased his way into the clearing toward the horse.

  A figure jumped at him out of the brush and threw him to the ground. Steward scrambled back to his feet and brandished his sword.

  And then he heard her laugh.

  “That’s what you get for taking so long to get here!” Astrid beamed a smile between her spurts of laughter. “You should’ve seen the look on your face.”

  He couldn’t speak. So many emotions washed over him, and no words could express them.

  Astrid looked at him and reached out a hand. “Steward, are you all right?”

  He dropped his sword and smothered her in his arms. “Oh, yes! I am definitely all right!” He pulled back and looked at her. “I thought you were…they told me you were…I am so glad to see you, Astrid!”

  He embraced her again, pressing her cheek next to his. Astrid blushed but closed her eyes, holding him closely.

  “Hey, what’s going on here?” Dunston came into the clearing. “This is a fine sight. We have a war to fight, and you two are acting like it’s a night at the dances.”

  Behind him, Zedekai entered the clearing.

  Steward closed his eyes. What a fool I am. How could I believe them? “You’re all alive. The deception was so real, so powerful.” He stepped back. “But wait, I saw your arm shield, and your headscarf. They were covered with blood.
”

  Zedekai and Astrid looked at each other. Zedekai raised his hands. “So that’s why they stole them.”

  “Quite a deception,” Astrid added.

  “My cane, what about my cane? Did you retrieve it?” Dunston shouted as he came up to Steward.

  “Sorry, my friend. It was in pieces, and I thought you were too.”

  “Scoundrels! Today I will get my revenge!” He waved his new cane in the air.

  Zedekai came near Steward and looked at the gash on his cheek. “What happened to you?”

  “Let’s just say I had a very dark night last night, thanks to our hooded friends.”

  “The Phaedra did this to you?” The anger resounded in Zedekai’s tone.

  Steward nodded. “They had me vastly outnumbered in the forest just after I left Seudomartus. They told me lies until my mind was so confused I couldn’t tell what was real and what was distortion.”

  “They’re good at that, the fiends!” Dunston looked at the scars on his hands.

  “How did you escape such an army?” Zedekai asked.

  Astrid had retrieved some water and began washing Steward’s wound as he spoke. “The Phaedra were about to overwhelm me when out of the forest a great warrior came to my rescue. He was larger than any man I have ever seen. He was riding a white horse and was dressed in crimson and purple, and he carried a sword that sent out shafts of light in every direction. He had a hood on his face, so I never saw who he was. But he drove off the Phaedra as they were about to kill me.”

  Zedekai and Dunston looked at each other, and Steward sensed they knew something about the horseman.

  “Did the warrior say anything to you?” Dunston drew closer to Steward.

  “He set a choice before me. Either I could take the wide road back to Aiden Glenn, which is what the Phaedra were encouraging me to do, or I could walk into the woods to Kildrachan Plain.”