by Geno Allen
Before he could say any more Keer, Laise, Tannis, and Rheen all tackled Dorrin. Keerin and Tearis just watched and laughed. Zam stood by watching the sibling wrestling match, grateful for his time here.
Soon the dinner bell rang and they were off to eat. Zam reached to help Dorrin off the ground and apologized again, “I am sorry for hitting you so hard. I was only trying to protect the little ones. Does it hurt?”
“Yes.” Dorrin said emphatically. “But that’s all right, Zam. I would have done the same.” He rubbed at his back again. “I really didn’t expect you to find your mark with the sun in your eyes. I’m just glad it wasn’t my head.”
“If it had been your head, it might not have hurt so much.” Zam tapped the practice blade lightly on Dorrin’s forehead. They both chuckled and turned to walk, arm in arm, back to the inn, looking very much like brothers.
At dinner Galwen congratulated Zam. “I’m proud of your obvious improvement with a sword, Zam.” A twinkle came to his eyes. “But it would be best if you only injure actual villains.”
Everyone laughed except Molly. “The training,” she said, “should have waited a while longer. Zam’s arm is not yet fully healed. And now Dorrin’s back will probably remain bruised a long while.” she softened then smiled. “Though, perhaps not as long as his pride.”
Dorrin smiled and shrugged. As the dinner progressed each child told a grand tale about their day that brought laughter and merriment to the family.
When the meal was over Zam found his way into Galwen’s study. There were writings on every subject he could imagine. It was a treasure house: scrolls here, loose pages there, a few bound copies of writings that dated back too far to know their origin. Zam was unsure how Galwen, a humble innkeeper, could have such an extensive collection, but he found it a peaceful place to rest when the day was done but the evening remained.
Galwen had said, “Children, you must remember, Zam is not a boy. He is a young man, and as such, he must take the time a man requires to quiet his heart and seek his way. As you would not pester me in the study, you must not pester Zam.” They all responded, “Yes, Grandfather.”
Then Galwen gave Zam a sly look, but Zam knew he meant the words.
After sitting a while in one of the very comfortable chairs in the study, Zam pulled out the book Graffeon had given him. He pondered again the amazing way that Graffeon had delivered it and departed so mysteriously. Zam had thumbed through many of the pages, and read a great many things, but he had yet to read the entire book. It seemed each time he opened it he found writings that left him deep in thought for long periods of time.
Tonight as he searched for a title that would catch his interest, he noticed a page that stood out from the others. It was slightly larger and folded over. As he reached to unfold it, the page fell from the book to the floor. He checked the binding for fear that his prize possession was falling apart. Funny, this book has become my prize possession. Once he was confident it wasn’t damaged, he set the book aside and picked up the paper.
The paper was the same as was in the book, very old and weather worn, but when he unfolded it he was at first startled, then bewildered again. On the left half of the folded page was a drawing of a dragon in a clearing, slain with two arrows in its neck and a young man pulling a sword from the beast. Behind the creature and to the side was a little girl. Beneath the picture were these words: Master Windwater’s First Great Victory: The dragon Crimthorn slain
The right half of the page read:
Zam,
I am proud of your victory. I am more proud that you chose to take up the fight. Many will not take the battles that are thrust upon them, but you did well. You chose well.
I desire you to know that the Dragon Crimthorn was, for many long years, a seed of evil whose influence on the towns that border Darlandis had grown too strong. You may say, “But dragons have not left Darlandis in ages?” and you would be correct, but where evil is allowed to fester, other evils grow apace. The Seritheen had grown in influence. Of these you will learn more later.
The slaying of Crimthorn is a feat unlike any in ages and has allowed many in Rivertowne and in dark places you do not know to believe that evil does not have to win. That belief will grow, and in that you have won a greater victory than you are yet aware.
You are correct in thinking you will leave Rivertowne and Galwen’s family soon, but hear the truth spoken around you. There will be help along the road and hearts to welcome you home when you return. Leaving will be painful, but what pains a man now may bring him comfort in the end.
There is more for you to do, and when all is done, your best given, and all that can be shaken from you is shaken, you will find what remains: The end of weakness. The beginning of strength.
Take comfort. You will be fully mended when it is time to leave, and though your training will not be complete, prepare. On the next new moon you will know where you must go.
Following your exploits with rapt attention.
Elyon
Zam held the paper for a long time. How did it get in the book? He studied the words again. Has it always been there?
As he read it over again, he felt the pride the writer felt for him and, for the first time in many weeks, he did not feel false. A joyful tear crossed his cheek.
His heroic deed was truly heroic and somehow greater than simply the rescue of one girl, as precious as she was. “Oh, to know what more has been done through this deed,” he said quietly. He glanced back at the picture. How long until the next new moon? I’ve lost track, but I’m sure it’s soon. That thought brought a sort of panic, but it was quickly replaced with a certainty that he would be all right even if the next new moon were tomorrow. As he would soon learn, it was just three days away.
Taking up the book once more, Zam noticed the title on the page in front of which the letter and drawing had been pressed:
“Of Endings and Beginnings”
There are times in life when joyous things
may last for many ages,
And times as well when Sorrow’s tales
will cover scores of pages;
Former roads must meet their ends
with newer journeys taken;
In fearful times take heart, young one;
dark thoughts put off and Hope awakens.
Though darkness drives for death of Hope
as seeds dropped off are buried deep,
All foreshadows Hope’s return
when Sorrows shall forever sleep.
Young one, a task sits before you,
a desperate course with dangers fraught;
There’s beauty there and woes to bear;
hold close the lessons dearly bought.
Dread not the nights of soul searching,
nor the eves when fall your tears.
They’ll aid you on the unknown paths;
walk unhindered by your fears.
When all is done though trials have fought you,
beauty hope and joy remain.
Once resting in your quest completed,
at last you’ll truly know your name.
Zam, much you might not understand,
but I shall end with this:
For every good thing there is a beginning,
for every sorrowful thing an end.
In this take comfort.
CHAPTER FIVE: THE NEXT STEP
Three days passed with a welcome sameness since Zam had discovered the letter and drawing. He spent the time reading from his book, learning from Galwen, painting with Molly, and entertaining and being entertained by the children. They were beautiful days that Zam would never forget, but this, the third morning, broke with a dreary, cloud-covered sky.
Water was falling in sheets, leaving large, muddy puddles. The younger boys had been trying all morning to sneak out and play in the puddles, but Barea would have none of that. Galwen had given Zam a lesson in close-quarters combat and Zam was amazed again at the skill and agility of the old man.<
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When the lesson was over Galwen congratulated Zam. “At this rate you will be a fine swordsman soon. Within the year you may well be one of the better swordsmen I’ve seen come through Rivertowne.” This was saying much, considering Rivertowne rested on one of the main marches between Valkiliar and Tarnanis.
In the early afternoon Molly decided that she and Zam would paint together in Galwen's study because of the rain. During his time in Rivertowne, Zam had learned that he was not a bad artist. He had nowhere near the skill Molly had with light and shadows, but he could actually put to canvas what he saw in his mind’s eye. He had already finished two paintings in the weeks that had passed and was working on a third. One he gave to Tearis and the other to Dorrin. The third one would be for Molly, and he would finish it today.
As they were both putting the final touches on their artwork, Molly looked over at Zam. “You’ve seemed in much better spirits the last few days. What have you discovered?”
“Discovered?”
“Yes, discovered. A few weeks ago you were in rather poor spirits; for the past week or two you have been in good spirits, but now you seem… purposed. So, I believe you must have discovered something.”
Zam wondered at the way Molly could pinpoint exactly what his emotions were doing and how he was thinking. He turned to meet her gaze. “I will be leaving soon, Molly.”
“And this has you in good spirits?”
“I know that must seem strange after our earlier conversations, but the other day… well, I found a letter… to me… from Elyon.”
Molly’s eyes grew wide and she stopped painting to listen.
“You know how you said that trials are the beginning of strength? In this letter he said the same. He knew about my battling and defeating the dragon, which he called Crimthorn, and then he said that he was following my exploits with ‘rapt attention.’ He also said that I would be leaving soon, that I would know where to go on the next new moon.” Zam was becoming animated. “Molly, I didn’t know at the time, but today, tonight, is the new moon. I had lost track, but I worked it out. Before this day is done I will know where I am to go next.” Exhilaration flashed in Zam’s eyes.
“Zam, that is wonderful! But how will you know?”
He smiled sheepishly. “I don’t know. I just know that I will know.” Though he was still excited, his voice took on a somber tone. “Molly, I don’t want to go, but I feel I must, and even not wanting to, I am excited. The letter says there will be help on the road, just as you said.” He pulled the book from his satchel and showed Molly the letter and the drawing. “I’m not sure what that will be or even where I’ll go, but I am anxious to find out.” As Molly looked over the contents, Zam’s tone turned even more somber. “Saying goodbye is what I am not looking forward to.”
Molly took his hand. “Zam, save that sorrow for the day you actually leave. For now, be glad! You’ve received an uncommon gift! Look at how old this drawing is, and the letter… I’ve not heard of Elyon delivering a message such as this—at least not in many long years, and certainly not in my lifetime.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. If I can recall… there were Zamora and Kamm, the Brother Kings. But that was in the ancient days of Darlandis’ glory, before evil took those lands and drove the good kings out. Then there was Randenell of Artolis. He braved the wilds of northern Darlandis to fetch back the first king’s crown. The tale says he received such a letter. But that was a great many generations ago. Zam, this letter–” Molly glanced at the letter, then looked to her painting, then back to Zam. A look of shock crossed her face. “Zam… I think it’s time I show you my painting.”
She turned the easel toward him. The painting was beautiful as usual, but felt separate in some way from most of Molly’s paintings. There was a castle barely visible in the misty distance. Dark clouds shrouded it. Nearer, a forest stretched for miles in either direction. Trees seemed to glow from the painting, some with brilliant emerald leaves, and some with leaves of a fiery orange. An ancient and ornate stone bridge emblazoned with a dragon slayer upon a pillar at its mouth lay in the foreground over a chasm that lead off the canvas to the right. Nearer in the foreground stood a young man surveying the bridge, the chasm, and the forest. A light rain was falling and the young one looked as though he had a decision to make. The bridge or the woods. There was an unfinished space centered at the bottom.
Zam looked the painting over, at first amazed by the detail, then by how real the emerald and fiery trees seemed, almost as if he were there again. He hadn’t told Molly about the trees. He hadn’t told anyone about them. Did Molly at some point in her youth ventured deep into Darlandis?
Molly pointed to the drawing from Elyon, “Do you see it, Zam?”
Zam looked closely, blinked a few times and traced the lines of the drawing with his eyes. Was that there before? He didn’t recall seeing it, but there it was. In the drawing behind the little girl in the far distance stood a castle. Slightly nearer and very small was the bridge from Molly’s painting. Unmistakably.
Zam sat down, his mind full of questions. “Is this place real, Molly? Have you been there?”
She shook her head, “It is a place from my imagination. I intended this painting as encouragement for you, a message in art. The young man was meant to be on a quest much like yourself. The empty space at the bottom was to hold a scroll that would read No matter the danger, Elyon will decide.”
Molly’s painting was the message Zam had been waiting for. Molly sat down as well, the meaning of it all sinking in. They sat silently for a while and Zam felt something growing inside him. “That place is real, Molly. I am certain of it. I have seen those trees, or trees of that kind… in Darlandis. That is the Darlandis wood. And though I’ve yet to see it, I know that bridge exists.”
“Elyon?” Molly whispered sorrowfully. “Would you truly send Zam back into that dark land?” But there it was, and though they might have hoped otherwise, they both knew it.
After a long silence Zam stood, seemingly stronger, a quiet resolve filling him. “Well, Molly, it’s a lovely painting, and I can honestly say I like the look of that bridge. I shall be happy to see it in person.”
Molly didn’t know how to reply.
Zam looked at her with a mix of determination and sorrow, traced through with the slightest hint of excitement. “Can you fetch Galwen, Molly? I have some questions I believe he might have the answers to. And I would like to finish my painting for you. It’s nearly done.”
Molly nodded and left without any further words.
Zam put a few final strokes of the brush to the canvas and sighed. “I don’t know, Elyon. Darlandis…? again?” Resolve filled him throughout. “If that is to be it, I will go, but I do not understand.”
Galwen entered the room a short while later with Molly in tow. In the moments between Molly’s exit and entrance, Zam had changed. He stood with more strength, and Galwen couldn’t help but notice.
Zam turned from his painting to Molly's. “Galwen, Molly may not have told you, but I will be leaving soon. But, before I go, I need your help. Somehow I think you know this place.”
Galwen was already staring at the painting. “I’ve never mentioned that place to anyone who yet lives.” Memory flooded through him as he looked from the painting to Molly and back. He spoke slowly, experiencing again the fear and sorrow of things long hidden. “That is the Great Bridge on the eastern march through Darlandis to Valkiliar; Knighton’s farthest outpost. I traveled that road in my youth with my master Alanak.” He stared into some dark corner of the world that only he could see. “We were set upon by Sinji' Grimmals, great brutish creatures, like men and animals combined. They were vile beasts, drenched in their own filth, and malice filled their eyes. Alanak was greatly injured in slaying the last of them. It is a perilous road, but it is the fastest route from here to Valkiliar. I traveled it again many years later.” His eyes were wide with the thought. “I’ve never spoken of the battles I met on that jour
ney.”
Zam had to ask, “What battles, Galwen?”
“Seritheen... dark beings who sought to do me harm when I passed the second time. Were it not for a valiant warrior who came to my aid, my life would have been lost.”
“Seritheen? They are mentioned in the letter. Who are they?”
“I… know little in detail about them. They serve whatever evil resides in Darlandis. They are fierce warriors and they alone of the evil creatures of Darlandis travel at will outside the wood that borders the land. Alanak told me many times to be wary, for they could appear as nearly anything they desired. From a horse to a–”
“Firefly?”
Galwen was caught off guard with the question. “I would have said warrior or–” Recognition crossed his face as he recalled Zam’s first vision. “From all Alanak told me, I would have to say yes… even something so small as a firefly.” Galwen looked at the painting again. “This is the next step in your quest, Zam.”
“I believe so....”
Molly stood behind Galwen, a look of sorrow and fear upon her face. “If the dragon did such great harm to Zam, what might these Seritheen do?” It was a motherly question, and though it was a fearful thought, her concern was comforting.
Galwen stepped toward Zam. “If it is Elyon's will–” He stopped short and his face turned pale, traced with sorrow at seeing Zam’s painting.
Molly asked, “What is it, Galwen?”
He stared at Zam a moment. “May I show Molly your painting, Zam?”
“Certainly... I… just finished it.”
Galwen turned the painting toward Molly, who clapped her hands over her mouth and sank into a chair, staring at the artwork.
Zam didn't understand her response. “Molly? I tried to paint you, but every time I tried it came out wrong. I restarted three times.” He added with some embarrassment “I know… it looks too young.”
