Zedekai slapped his shoulder. “You made a wise choice.”
Eventually. “But the Phaedra told me you three had been killed.”
“They were very close to being right,” Astrid replied as she washed his cheek. “We were ambushed as we cleared the forest, and also greatly outnumbered.”
“How did you escape?”
She pulled back to look him in the face. “Does this sound familiar? A warrior came from deep in the forest…”
Steward finished Astrid’s description. “Wearing crimson and purple and carrying a sword that sent out shafts of light in every direction. Yes, yes it does. So he saved you as well. Do you know who he is?”
“No,” Zedekai replied, “but he was definitely sent to us from the king.”
Just then, a chill descended on them. The mist billowed in and began moving across the land.
Steward’s nerves prickled. “I’ve felt this chill before and have seen this mist. What’s causing this weather?”
Zedekai walked to the edge of the clearing and looked out across the Plain. “This is not the making of weather.” He turned back to his companions. “It is time. The Phaedra’im army is near. They will march for the Ancient Fortress. And we must stop them.” Zedekai mounted his horse.
Dunston jumped on behind him and grasped his chainmail. “Then let’s ride to our destiny.”
Steward’s heart raced at the thought of encountering the Phaedra again.
This time, I will not be fooled.
Soon the ten warriors of the king joined them.
The captain rode up to Steward. “It’s good to see you, Warrior Steward.”
Warrior Steward. He had almost forgotten. “And to see the ten of you!”
The thirteen riders and Dunston rode out from the clearing onto the vast open space of Kildrachan Plain. They raced toward its southern end and galloped along the hills that separated the plain from the lower regions of the kingdom. They crested the last hill and rode into the valley below, positioning themselves right in front of the access to the Ancient Fortress. There they turned to the north and waited.
Zedekai quieted his anxious horse. “There, there, boy. This may be a long wait, but when they come, we will be ready.”
The morning drew on. The sun became more and more obscured behind the heavy mist. The fog grew so thick that soon they could see only a few hundred yards in any direction.
“They can slip right past us!” Dunston shook his head. “This blasted fog is their doing.”
“Quiet, my little friend.” Zedekai shifted in the saddle. “If we can’t see them, we must hear them. To move an army to the Ancient Fortress, they must come up this valley. Fog or no fog, they will not escape us.”
No sooner had the words left his lips than they began to hear the sounds of horses in the distance. In the fog, it sounded like they were right on top of them, but they knew that the sounds were still far off.
“Steady,” Astrid said to her horse.
The fourteen warriors remained silent, listening as the distant sounds of movement grew louder and closer. Then, without reason, the sounds stopped. All became eerily silent.
No one dared move or speak.
Then, as if by fiat, the fog began to clear. First, it lifted high above the place where they were assembled. Then, foot by foot and yard by yard, the visibility increased. Within moments, Kildrachan Plain was bathed in sunlight, and the small band of warriors took in the sight that lay before them.
In all directions, the hills were covered in black. The Phaedra’im had descended in such numbers that they covered the ground for as far as the eye could see. The small band was surrounded on three sides and outnumbered by ten thousand to one.
Astrid’s face grew ashen. “My lord!”
Steward’s chest was tight. My lord, indeed!
Zedekai rode close to Steward. “Tell me, Warrior Steward, what do you feel?”
“What do I feel? I feel as though I am about to die.”
“Look again. Look around you, Steward. Look at the enemy in all its power and might. Look at the vastness of its resources and the ferocity of its intent. Look closely at it then search your heart and tell me again…what you feel.”
Steward did as the knight ordered. All he could see was hooded figures ready to raise their swords and overwhelm their little band of warriors. He saw the anger and evilness of the Phaedra. He could sense their hatred and their thirst for vengeance. But when he looked into his own heart…
His eyes grew wide, and he turned to Zedekai. “The Deep Peace, that’s what I feel.”
Zedekai smiled. “Then let us fight in the name of the king and with the power of the Deep Peace.” He drew his sword and raised it. The other warriors joined him. The band formed a line and faced the assembled mass of Phaedra with swords held high against the azure blue sky.
The show of force brought a reply from the Phaedra army. The sound of unsheathed swords was deafening as tens of thousands of hooded spirits lifted their own weapons above them. Then from their midst, five Phaedra rode forward into the empty space between the great Phaedra’im army and the small band of the king’s warriors. They looked at the opposition in front of them.
“You cannot win!” one of them shouted. “Surely you know that. Save yourselves now, for we will take the Fortress of our ancestors on this very day.”
Steward shouted back, “This is the king’s plain, and you are trespassers. We will fight in the name of the king. You shall not take the Fortress but be banished back to your rightful place beyond the Golden River.”
The army of Phaedra shouted and shook their swords. The lead Phaedra turned to the amassed army and quieted them. Then, in a loud voice that carried across the plain, he shouted, “As they prepare to die, let them see the true nature of the evil that is about to descend upon them.”
At that command, one by one then thousands upon thousands, the Phaedra removed their hoods, revealing contorted, disfigured faces and heads, each one more gruesome than the last.
Steward had never seen the Phaedra without their hoods. He stared at the sea of bestial faces with horns and fangs, bulging eyes, and maggots in their hair.
With their true nature now exposed, the Phaedra began a slow march toward Steward and the warriors. The enemies’ pace increased into a trot. Then the lead Phaedra shouted, and the charge began. Ten thousand horrific riders charged down the hills at Steward, Astrid, Zedekai, Dunston, and the ten warriors of the king.
The small band stayed fixed in their positions, swords in the air, ready for the onslaught. As Zedekai’s horse reared up, he looked at Steward. “How about now?”
“What do you mean?”
“How about now? What do you feel now, Warrior Steward?”
Steward grinned. At that very moment, as death was charging upon them, all Steward felt was the Deep Peace of the king. “Yes! I feel the Deep Peace—even now!”
Zedekai smiled widely. “Then behold, Warrior Steward, your salvation is at hand!”
Instantly, as if engulfed by an avalanche, an army stormed from behind the little band, charging by them on every side and engaging the approaching Phaedra scarcely fifty feet in front of Steward. The sea of warriors wore every conceivable color and looked like a massive tapestry descending upon the blackness of the unhooded Phaedra. Amid the chaos of the battle, Steward saw that at the leading edge of the massed forces was the hooded horseman who had rescued him from the Phaedra.
Steward joined Astrid and Zedekai, and together they charged into the fray. Astrid swung her sword with skill and passion, but the Phaedra were coming at her from every direction. Twice she fell, just out of the reach of the thrust of a snake-shaped Phaedra sword. Steward watched as Dunston cut down five Phaedra horses as they galloped. Then, seeing Astrid crawling from two pursuers, Dunston leapt to her side and gave her time to find her feet. Together, they charged the two Phaedra and cut them down.
The battle raged on. Across the hills and fields, thousands of the kin
g’s warriors engaged in fierce battle with the endless flood of Phaedra. Two, three, four times, the king’s army advanced through the black wall of hooded demons, each time only to be pushed back by a new, advancing wave.
Steward’s arms ached as he swung his sword again and again to cut down the Phaedra that amassed around him like packs of wild dogs. The only thing that kept Steward alive was the constant presence of Zedekai, Astrid, and Dunston, who fought for him with a passion that seemed almost supernatural in its intensity. Still, Steward felt the exhaustion begin to set in as wave after wave of hooded fighters came at them without mercy. And he saw the exhaustion in the faces of his colleagues.
At the peak of the battle, Steward saw the hooded horseman ride to a hill overlooking the entire scene. Steward broke free from the fighting just long enough to watch as a second figure arrived at the hilltop to meet the horseman. It had to be the king! Steward’s heart soared, extinguishing the distorted vision he had seen from the Phaedra. “It’s the king! He is here!”
Astrid ran to him and looked up at the two horsemen. “Of course it is. He’s been here the whole time. And he always will be.”
They watched as the two horsemen looked down on the gory scene. Then the king and the hooded horseman faced the oncoming waves of Phaedra. From the two of them, Steward could see a light flash down into the valley, a light so intense that Steward couldn’t bear to look at it, even from this great distance. The king and the hooded horseman, enveloped in an aura of piercing brightness, rode straight into the mass of attacking Phaedra. Without so much as a sword swinging in their direction, the Phaedra recoiled and fell in the presence of the horsemen. Screams echoed across the Plain as thousands of Phaedra spirits were sent out of their bodies and back to the Tohu Wa-Bohu.
The light grew and emanated in waves throughout the black army, obliterating whomever it touched. The king’s army stopped and watched, untouched by the light, as thousands of Phaedra robes fell around them. Within minutes…the battle was ended.
As the last Phaedra escaped over the far horizon, quiet fell across the Plain.
Steward sheathed his sword.
Exhaustion mixed with joy and…relief. Not at winning the battle, but at the restoration of his faith.
“It’s over. This is the king’s victory.” He embraced Astrid, and soon their companions joined them.
The four stood looking across the great open expanse before them. The landscape was littered with empty black cloaks and the bodies of fallen comrades. Despite the loss of many of their own, the victory had been convincing, and the Phaedra had suffered a devastating defeat.
On a far hillside the king rode alone, the halo of light now gone. He stopped to look back at the four and waved. Even at this great distance, his clear and powerful voice rang out to them. “Deep Peace, my faithful friends.”
They watched as he rode out of sight. Then the hooded horseman in crimson and purple rode out from the battle lines and made his way up to them. As he did, hundreds of the king’s army gathered around. The horseman dismounted and walked to Steward and the little entourage.
“You chose well, Warrior Steward.”
“And you have saved my life again. But can you tell me who you are?”
The man studied Steward, his eyes piercing him from behind the hood. “First tell me, Warrior Steward, where did the Deep Peace come from as you faced the Phaedra’im army?”
He knew—but how? “I guess…I guess it came from the king. Somehow, when I should have been filled with fear, I was confident and at peace.”
“So…you do trust the king after all.”
Steward looked at the warriors assembled around him. He looked at Dunston, Zedekai, and Astrid. And he searched deep in his heart. “Yes, yes I do.”
The horseman reached up and pulled the hood from his head. There was a collective gasp that reverberated across the entire expanse of Kildrachan Plain. It was as if the earth itself sighed. For standing before them was the king’s own son.
“Your majesty!” Zedekai fell to his knees. “But you died on Kildrachan Plain at your father’s side! I was there!”
Steward found it hard to breathe. “Yes, and the king showed us your gravesite.”
The king’s son smiled. “It appears that young Steward is not the only one who can return from the dead. I did die at my father’s side, but there are forces in this kingdom greater than death. And now I have returned to reclaim my father’s kingdom.”
Steward bowed then looked up. “If I may ask, what was the light we saw that defeated the Phaedra?”
“The light is not a ‘what’ but a ‘who’. She is Neumaterra. She is the spirit that carries out the king’s will and work throughout the kingdom.”
Dunston shuffled forward, pointing his cane at Steward. “Neumaterra. She called me to come and meet you at Pitcairn Moor.”
The son nodded. “Yes, Steward, it was she who carried the king’s voice across the miles so you could hear it when you were heading home to Aiden Glenn. And it was her energy that filled you with the strength to attack the Phaedra, even in the midst of your doubt.”
Zedekai stood next to Steward. “And it was Neumaterra who sent me to the palace steps to rescue you from death on Starr Hill.”
Astrid took Steward by the arm. “Neumaterra is the presence of the king throughout the kingdom. She guides, gives wisdom, and, when needed, provides us with the power we need to fight the Phaedra.”
Zedekai looked into the sea of lifeless, black robes. “She is our greatest weapon against the Phaedra. She exposes all deception and drives out evil from her midst.”
Steward nodded. “She’s been with me all during my journey. I know now; I could sense her strength so many different times. Why didn’t I know about her before now?”
The king’s son smiled. “Steward, there is much that you do not yet know about this kingdom. Your journey has opened to you a whole new world, yet it has only started. As you continue to walk with the king through this kingdom, there are new discoveries and knowledge awaiting you. Remember, it is the battle as much as the victory that matters most. But be assured of this—the king will always come to the aid of his warriors, and the power of Neumaterra will always prevail.”
The king’s son dismounted and approached Steward and his friends. “You have been my father’s most faithful warriors in battle, and your work will not go unrewarded. However, your work is not yet done.”
“What can we do to serve you?” Astrid bowed to the massive horseman.
“Steward, you must return home and take the four gifts my father has given to you. Share them with your people and command them to tear down the Ancient Fortress. Then, when the time is right, I will come for you because your journeys on behalf of the king have just begun. Go now and be reunited with your family. And take Astrid with you, for your fortunes are now intertwined with hers.”
Astrid slid her hand in his, and Steward’s heart soared. “But what of our friends?”
“You will see them again, but the king has other work for them to do now.”
“So the war with the Phaedra’im continues?”
The son mounted his horse. “Warrior Steward, there will always be battles to be fought with the Phaedra’im, but you must remember that if you trust the king and fight in his name and with the power of the Deep Peace, the war has already been won. Now it is time for you to depart.”
He and Astrid embraced their colleagues and were overcome with emotion. Dunston tried to act unmoved, but tears ran down his cheeks as he said goodbye to Steward and Astrid, even stretching up to give Astrid a kiss on the cheek.
Zedekai held Steward by the shoulders and smiled as he said goodbye. “You are indeed the Liberator we have all been waiting for. It was my honor to ride at your side.”
“The honor is mine.” Steward laid his hand over Zedekai’s. “If not for you, I would still be in prison, in my castle in Petitzaros, or lying dead on the rocks on Starr Hill. Thank you, my dear friend.”
“The king’s Deep Peace to you!” With that, they rode off for Aiden Glenn.
“And to you!” the army shouted back.
Steward and Astrid crossed Kildrachan Plain to the edge of the low country and rode down through the mist across Callater Pass, where Steward’s journey had begun so many years ago.
Steward was reunited with his parents, who threw a celebration for the whole village in their honor. Steward and Astrid told the stories of their journey, their victories and escapes, their time with the king, and the final battle, including the good news that the king’s son was alive.
With the defeat of the Phaedra’im, the mist that covered Aiden Glenn receded day by day. For the first time, the citizens of the village enjoyed the full warmth of the sun and looked up into a deep blue sky. Steward’s father pledged to lead a campaign to dismantle the Ancient Fortress, which could now be seen looming over the town.
Steward told everyone about the four gifts of the king. He gave golden Bracelets to the people of Aiden Glenn, to remind them that everything belonged to the king. He gave each one a Quash and sash so that they would always serve one another. He gave them Reflectors so that they would see themselves as the king saw them. And, most importantly, he gave them each a Transmitter so that they would always hear the king.
Steward, Astrid, Dunston, and Zedekai would have many more adventures as they were sent by the king to new lands to carry the truth and set people free from the distortions of the Phaedra. And everywhere they went, they shared the four gifts of the king and the Deep Peace that he desired for all the citizens of his kingdom.
~~~~~~~~~
Merideth turned the final page then leaned back in her seat. “Thank you, father.”
Reed folded his hands and looked around at everyone. “Incredible. I’m not sure what to say.”
Anna let her emotions flow. “I feel like I’ve heard my father’s voice for the last time. I don’t want to let him go.”
Alex sat by her and held her. “You don’t have to, sis. As long as this story is in your heart, Mom and Dad will be too.”
The Four Gifts of the King Page 38
