“If this is a sorcerer’s curse, Hedor,” mumbled a large greasy-mouthed bandit sucking on a tiny rabbit bone, “then damn me to hell, I say!” Others laughed in unison with him as Hedor himself chewed on a bone and merely shrugged.
There would soon be nothing left but bones as ravenous young ruffians licked and gnawed their way through the two rabbits. Then all sat about a warm fire. Verboden stood in the shadows.
“Why aren’t you eating, sorcerer?” Hedor asked. “Are we all to fall asleep after our meal, never to wake?”
Verboden walked into the crowded circle and crouched, reaching into his cloak. This dismayed a few of those huddled near him until they saw that what he pulled out was an old piece of bread. Verboden tore off a small fragment and dabbed it into a nearby piece of honeycomb. He brought it close to his mouth and then prayed a silent prayer of thanks. Hedor vaguely remembered such an act, from long ago, when gratefulness once existed. Verboden chewed the morsel slowly.
The bandits shrugged and continued gnawing tiny bones and sucking on the honeycombs. After all the food was eaten, most fell asleep and began snoring, especially the older ones with their sonorous noses.
As drowsy as he was, Hedor held onto his axe and leaned against it while staring at Verboden. He seemed drunk on the first wonderful meal he had had in ages.
“Foul sorcerer, leave us to die,” he mumbled.
“I am a cleric, not a sorcerer, and I need your help.”
“Help!? Hahr hahr hahr!!!” Hedor roared, awakening some sleepers from their peaceful slumber. “Look at us, ruffian rabble! We have nothing left but our broken weapons, our broken backs, and our broken spirits.”
“We are rebuilding Grotham Keep.”
Hedor’s eyes widened, “Grotham? Who?”
“The king has returned. People are gathering. We need men, fighting men such as you. With food in your stomach I’m sure you’ll be impressive.”
“Impressive? Well sorcerer, if you would be so observant as to notice we are starving young and old, and sick and in dire need. We are not warriors, sorcerer. We were once farmers and laborers. We merely lived longer than our wives, and children, and our souls.” Hedor sat quietly for a long while. He longed for a deep sleep he hoped he’d never wake from. “I hope you are a sorcerer.... to end all of this.”
“Where is he going?!” a young bandit asked, jumping up and down in the morning mist, racing back to the others. The bandits lay sprawled around a small spent campfire.
Many woke with sore stomachs, headaches and such. They were gaunt folk who had just eaten too much. Some puked while others let loose foul excrement. That would be 'poo' to the younger ears! To be fair, descriptively speaking, they went out into the tall grasses for such business. The sounds of flatulence or 'farting', moaning, groaning and burping echoed throughout the meadow. Pee-yew!
“The sorcerer! The cleric! He’s leaving!” the young anxious bandit said, wakening the others.
“He cursed us with foul food!” moaned one.
“We are doomed!” groaned another.
“I'm going to see my Bessy soon!” squealed one.
“Oh, the curse!” barfed another.
“I actually feel pretty good as it were.... ooohhhhh... That was a good expelling!” busied another.
”Where is he going!?” the young bandit frantically asked.
Hedor harshly poked the young bandit with the end of his axe. “He’s going to Grotham! They’re rebuilding the castle.”
“Grotham?” an old bandit spoke with sadness. The word spread through the two dozen bandits. The younger ones only knew about Grotham's glory days from stories of the elders.
“Rebuilding the castle?” another bandit asked.
“Then they are rebuilding the land?” another said.
Hedor’s eyes widened as he shook out of his sleep. “Yes, to Grotham we go!” He leapt up with such nimbleness that the others gave him room as he pranced down the road to follow after the cleric.
“Well, the sorcerer’s curse looks like it's wearing off,” someone said.
The others smiled and ran after him.
Chapter Seventeen: Tirnalth's Secret
Alfred had many sleepless nights worrying about his mother. As time passed, his uneasiness about her, especially since he was gone from their apartment, increased. The peasants, workers, Abedeyan and Lady Nihan were busy building, cleaning, restoring, farming, hunting and the like. Loranna and Cory kept the children active with archery and combat practice.
Setheyna, the youngest archer, was Loranna’s messenger and aide-de-camp. Each morning when she came to the castle, she would rush up to Loranna to get orders for the day and then assemble the children. In running around the Keep ringing a bell to wake everyone, she made sure to ring twice as loudly and twice as long when she got to Alfred’s sleeping quarters, as he seemed to be a deeper sleeper than the rest. Of course, the early morning was when Alfred dozed off after his restless night of worry.
On many occasions, Alfred went into Tirnalth’s tower to talk. Tirnalth always seemed possessed, chanting and mumbling. Alfred would sit and wait. It took a great while for Tirnalth to notice him. When Tirnalth finally smiled and nodded, Alfred took that as confirmation that he was free to unload his concerns.
He was worried about the farming and the ever short supply of food. He was concerned about the dirt and filth and no running hot water for baths – oh, and about the toilet, a mere chair with a hole to a pan for private matters. And Lady Nihan carrying it away. Blech! What else? Oh, why couldn’t Alfred just say it!?
“Tirnalth, I, I, I, don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if what I’m doing will really help the people. I mean, I don’t know anything about farming and all this stuff. It’s so dirty here, and I have rashes and flea bites and sores. I just want to go home. I miss my mother. I mean, she must miss me and must wonder where I am, and the police must be looking for me. I don’t want her to cry or be sad because I know she would be sad.” He paced around the room.
“She does everything for me,” Alfred continued. “Maybe she does too much. But still, I love her so much. I want to make a lot of money and buy her a big house and all that. If I’m here, then she has no one. I mean, I know the people need help, but wouldn’t it be better if you were in charge?” He paused to look at Tirnalth, who was still smiling and nodding.
“Well, I suppose maybe you are not the right person to lead them if that Gorbogal witch knows you’re around. What about Verboden?” Alfred looked at the oblivious wizard with sudden hope... which fled from his face as fast as it came.
”Hmmm, he gets worn out every time he casts a big spell to heal someone. That won’t do. No, that won’t work at all. And we have no knights, no lords and no vassals. Will Verboden ever find any? Will he find any knights in time? I still don't understand what it is to be king!”
Alfred emitted a long sigh and shook his head. “Okay, I know I have helped out. I know that I can help, like when I went around to all the peasant homes. Do you remember me telling you about it?” Not waiting for a response, he plunged ahead.
“I know! You don’t remember. Anyway, I stayed with them overnight, sleeping next to their pig and sheep and with the whole family. You know, I just wanted to see what it was like, to see how they were doing and how they lived. I saw how the women took the pots of pooh and stuff to the stream and dumped them there. They waited for it to run downstream, and then they filled their buckets with water. This all seemed fine until I realized that all the farmers lived along that small funny smelling stream. I was like, no, no, no, no, no! Man, was I like no! That was so vile! Oh hey! I used the word vile. Hah-ha! Mister Nord, my teacher, taught us that as a vocabulary word, and I was like, when am I ever going to use that word? Boy, does that word work here! Man, that stuff was so vihhhhhh-el!”
“So, I was like, okay, okay, people, no dumping pooh in the stream. No, no, no! Let’s see. Find a tree area or patch of forest that is used for chopping wood or somethi
ng. Dig a big hole, and then each morning, dump your pooh in there. Cover it a bit each time, and when it’s …well…vile enough, cover it completely and dig a new hole. Abedeyan made me declare it a law! To think, my first King’s Law was about pooh. The people were a bit upset because the men had to now dig holes for the pooh, I guess they dig a lot of holes. I was like, no way are you dumping pooh in the water we drink. It causes disease and stuff. Verboden said a prayer chant thing while the peasants all waited. I was like, what is he doing? Then he woke out of it and was like, ‘King Alfred is right. The water was causing all kinds of maladies. By making this change, everyone will feel better.’ At first all the peasants gasped at this new information. Then they began clapping.”
“Suddenly,” Alfred continued. “I spurted out more rules and stuff. I was like, take water out of the stream to bathe in, but do not bathe near or in the stream. Do not put anything dirty in the stream, not even the bath water. Let’s keep the stream clean. And let’s use some soap. I couldn’t believe it when they asked me what soap was. I was like, oh man, no soap! You don’t know what soap is? I couldn’t believe it. I’d been wiping my sweaty armpits with water from a bucket wondering when they’d be able to start making soap, not knowing they don’t even know what it is. And I don’t know how to make it. Shoot! So I said never mind about that.”
“I mean, I guess I’m getting used to the dirt and oiliness. If I sit and think about it, I suddenly feel totally covered in dirt and oil. Blech! And my hair! I wish I had shampoo.”
Alfred sighed again.
“I guess Abedeyan is handling all the taxes and stuff. I did tell him to keep them as low as possible because everyone was starving and it was tough on everyone. And I told him that anyone who wanted to stay in the castle could. Abedeyan seemed a bit bummed about it. We have plenty of room, and there’s like not that many people there anyway. I also said that anyone who wants to farm near the castle can.”
“So I dunno, Tirnalth. I guess I’m helping out. I guess the farmers and peasants are happy, and luckily nothing bad has happened. We don’t have men for an army. Thankfully, nothing has attacked us yet. I've seen all the ratkin and goblin weapons but never seen them. I don't know if we can even fight them. What if I have to? I am just a kid from a city who likes to play computer games. I'm not a king! I just wish I could see my mom. I wish she knew that I was okay and that I was coming home.”
Alfred was tired. He had spoken more than ever in his life. It was the first time in a long time that he had poured his heart out, disclosing everything he was thinking and feeling. Looking up, he realized that Tirnalth was mumbling to himself, still in his own world. Alfred grew angry. Tirnalth was unaware of Alfred being there and everything he had just said. Alfred stood up and began swinging his fists at Tirnalth. “Why did you bring me here?” he cried. “Why don’t you listen to me? I hate this! I hate you!” His fists went wild, flailing through Tirnalth’s ghostlike aura. Exhausted, Alfred fell to the ground and began to cry.
Still mumbling to himself and unmindful of Alfred’s swings at him, Tirnalth heard something vaguely nearby. This brought him out of his trance. He blinked, looked about and saw Alfred on the ground sobbing. Alfred was crying, holding himself, alone in the dark crypt. “My dear boy, what is the matter?”
Alfred looked up, filled with relief and surprise. “Tirnalth!” He leapt up and hugged the wizard, who now was fully formed. Alfred could feel him.
“Alfred, my dear boy, my dear boy, whatever is the matter?” At first surprised by the feeling of the hug, Tirnalth warmly returned it.
“I’m scared, Tirnalth and I, I, miss her.” Alfred sobbed with a blubbery face.
“Oh, Alfred, do not cry. You can see her whenever you wish.”
“What? I can?” The tears stopped flowing.
“Yes, of course, it is within you,” Tirnalth whispered with enthusiasm. “Your love is the key.”
“Well how? When? How, when?!?”
“Well now. And, uh… how? Well, I don’t know.”
Alfred backed away and crossed his arms.
“I have been studying who I am, and I know much now. I know that I left these books here to help me find my way back. I left them high up on the wall there, veiled as stone for thirteen years, only to reappear when the blood of a king was near. Alfred, you brought them back. Somehow I knew back then what to do, well I suppose, because I’m a great wizard! Oh, shhhhh, don’t tell anyone. I’m not all back yet. Look at this, look at what I left. These books are not even spell books. They are a gateway!”
Tirnalth stood waving his arms in a grand fashion. “Kurehnde, buht-thaguhm, muhrathum!”
And with that a spell book opened, shining light into the shadows of the tower walls. The light illuminated a wall of books, all wrought with gold leaf and some woven with silver string. They were all bound in rich red, brown and black leathers. Many were secured with metal brass clasps and lockets. It was a wondrous vast magical library. Scrolls were stuffed in many crevices and corners, as were candles of all sizes and shapes, many burnt down to piles of wax.
“As you can see, I have much yet to learn. I hid my library of knowledge so that at the right time, I could use it again to relearn all that I knew before. I sacrificed myself to give your mother time, Alfred.”
“Time?”
“Yes, to give her time to escape. I knew all was lost. And I knew that the Dark One had aided Gorbogal. I broke that bond by offering him myself, my knowledge, my mind. And he took it, abandoning Gorbogal, weakening her powers by indulging in his own selfish needs. Somehow, I knew he could only take my memories and my skills of magic, and not my spirit. For my spirit is owned by the Father of Light and it is not mine to sell, trade, or bargain.” Tirnalth smiled with relief.
“Or sacrifice?”
“Yes boy, yes. I left myself clues, and this library. All of this is my memories, a copy for me to regain. It is my secret place!” Tirnalth stepped aside, stretching his arms out to reveal more. Beyond the grand wall of books, as if in another dimension twinkling through, was a great hall with a vast library. It was so vast that it went beyond their vision, into bright rays of sunlight.
“How is that possible? It’s huge!” Alfred gasped and stared at the immensity of what he was seeing.
“It’s a portal, a doorway. I hid this hall of books somewhere, not even I know. I suppose one of these books will tell me.” Tirnalth gazed in wonder at it. He had been in its presence this whole time.
“It looks like it will take a while for you to read them all,” Alfred sighed.
“Well, I’m a fast reader.” Tirnalth looked at Alfred's wonderment and could also sense his concern. “But yes, I suppose it will. I think I know what book I will read next.”
They looked at each other. Tirnalth patted Alfred's shoulder. “I’ll read about how you can get back to your mother.”
“It's been so long. She must be devastated that I’m not there.”
“Oh no Alfred, this magical portal isn't just a doorway through space, it is also a doorway through time! You can return to her and it will seem as if only a moment has passed. It is all up to you!”
“What? You mean no time has passed?”
“Well, not ...'no time', but more like stretched time. These two worlds are linked, through space and time, but they are also linked magically. And magically isn't the same as reality. My boy, time passes based on what it is you want as the traveler. I have a feeling your mother will see you... shortly.”
Alfred smiled and looked down sadly. “Won’t the people here need me? As their king? Not that I even know what that is...”
“Oh, I suppose we can find another. There are kings everywhere, at all the shops. You can get one nowadays for a low price.” Tirnalth's attempt at humor did not cover his sad expression.
“No, seriously,” Alfred said, “I don’t want to abandon them.”
“Well, that is the difficulty of being a king, Alfred. Your people need you and you can not abandon th
em. I don’t think you have to. Come, don’t worry about the magic portal and departure until I learn it fully. And fully I will. For now, help them as best you can and keep a good face about it all. Soon enough, I will learn the way that got you and me here, and how you can take yourself back. Deal?”
Alfred nodded agreement. Tirnalth patted Alfred’s head. Alfred smirked.
“Sorry, old habit. Now run along king! You have much work and leading and inspiring to do!”
Chapter Eighteen: The Goblins
Alfred was happy that the bear creature they had killed in the Dark Forest had provided much needed meat. But Abedeyan was annoyed that Alfred shared it with the peasants and workers. He had wanted to make salty pork and bacon and jerky to store away for future use.
“Abe,” said Alfred, using the name he had begun calling Abedeyan, much to his annoyance. “There is no tomorrow. We have to feed everyone now to make sure everyone is strong and able. I’m not going to hide away any of the food for later. And soon will be the harvest. Besides, we’re going out again.”
“What!? Milord? This is dangerous. We do appreciate the success of your hunt. But it is only a matter of time before you meet up with goblins, and they are not so easily shot down. They are themselves hunters of the Dark Forest. They are raiders of the land. They are vicious, I tell you!” Abedeyan warned.
“Well, I am king, and whatever that means, what I say goes,” Alfred said.
“That is not how a kingship works!” Abedeyan replied.
“What do you mean? I can do anything I want! Isn't that how a kingship works?”Alfred said.
“No, Alfred. No. Not at all! You can't just do whatever you want as king!”
“Abe, seriously, I don't even know what it means to be king. I've helped in so many ways. The farming is done faster and better. I trained the children! I got us armour and weapons from scraps!”
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