by James T Wood
“She wouldn’t be the first bride to go to the altar pregnant,” Adrocus shrugged again, “Why was it such a big deal?”
Peek grew to hate each shrug that dismissed his life and struggles. How could Adrocus not see what was so plain to Peek? “The child didn’t belong to the chief’s son.”
“Oh.”
“Right,” Peek glared at Adrocus’ back as if daring him to shrug again, “So as soon as I thought there was a place for me to go I left. But since I left Vlek will be angry with me. He may try to kill me again.”
“We can protect you.”
“But that means I have to become a monk even though I don’t want to.”
Adrocus looked over his shoulder with eyes wide, “Don’t you?”
Peek’s stomach filled with stone. He did. But he didn’t. He wanted the connection, the friendship, and especially the music. But he didn’t want to go back to his old village. He would have to show the monks the best place to build and then slip away before any of the villagers could see him. Peek had told Locambius that he would help, but not how much.
“I wish I could,” Peek adjusted their course again, “I just can’t risk it. I can’t be around Vlek.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I’m sorry too. I just…”
“You want a way to stand up to Vlek?”
“That’s part of it. But in a way I just want Vlek to be gone from my life. I would be happy to leave and never go back; I thought I had.”
“Does it feel like weakness to you. Returning?”
Sudden, hot tears clouded Peek’s vision. Damn Adrocus for saying that. Damn himself for feeling it.
Adrocus continued, “We’ll keep you safe. We’ll hide you from the villagers and as soon as your work for Locambius is done, we’ll…” he stopped and turned to look Peek in the eyes, “I’ll make sure that you can leave and be safe.”
Eight
Twenty more years passed before the disciple dared broach the subject again.
“Great, powerful, wise, honored, aged king. Your wisdom and power increase each day. You fill the world with blessings and peace. Yet even you cannot live forever. For the sake of your people and your great kingdom, please share the source of your wisdom and power that it might not depart from the world.”
Eytskaim gazed off into the air. But this time he did not sit for a day, nor two, but for seven full days. Most of the audience left after the third day. The group of disciples left after the fourth. Only the chief and oldest disciple, the one who asked the question, remained. The others brought him food, which he refused, and water, which he sipped. At the end of seven days the king spoke.
“My oldest and most trusted friend. You are wise in your own right. I will die and pass on from this world. However there is yet time left for me and it is not yet time for you to know this truth. Ask me again another time.”
The chief disciple nodded and then collapsed to the floor. It was a month before he recovered from his lack of food, water, and sleep.
“Breath is life, the quality of one affects that of the other.” Mercina of Ceol
P
eek huddled in the middle of the crowd of monks as they approached the burned out village. His home was gone. Destroyed. The fire that scorched the stone huts had consumed the mud and straw of the village homes. A few shells stood, empty roofs gaping to the sky. But most of the huts were burned down to the stone footing. Some huts had been re-purposed with fashioned tents of sackcloth or even boughs from trees. Others looked abandoned.
Peek scanned the crowd for faces. There was the old smith. Across the way was the sweet baker who would occasionally trade him a stale loaf for some small fish that Vlek wouldn’t want. There was Dray’s brother, Kron, but Dray wasn’t in sight. Neither were Rea, Cor, nor Vlek. Peek relaxed a bit, but still didn’t emerge from the protective cocoon of monks.
Locambius stepped up when they arrived at the center of the village. The rest of monks stood behind him and the villagers gathered opposite.
“We come to offer help,” Locambius said, “Who will accept our aid?”
The villagers muttered among themselves for a moment and then Peek spied the chief’s staff bobbing above the heads of the crowd. The long wooden staff was painted and decorated with scenes from the village’s history and on top was a carved representation of the village deity, a crouching wolf.
The wolf stalked over the heads of the people from the back, slowly pushing through toward the front. When the face of the chief emerged from the crowd Peek’s knees nearly buckled. It was Cor pushing through the crowd. But he didn’t hold the staff. No, the person behind him held it proudly. Cor stepped aside once they reached the front of the crowd and Peek saw the new chief of the village, Vlek.
Peek stumbled. Adrocus grabbed his arm and kept him from falling.
“What is it?”
“That’s… That’s Vlek.”
Adrocus looked from Peek’s face to Vlek’s and back again.
“Are you sure?”
It was too much, Peek laughed out loud. He covered it with a cough when monks turned to look at him, but the situation overcame all logic and became ludicrous.
“I’m sure,” Peek whispered, “I have to get out of here.”
“Just stay behind us,” Adrocus said, stepping in front of Peek, “He won’t see you.”
At the front of the gathered monks Locambius addressed Vlek, “Noble chief and leader, we ask your welcome and offer our help in return. Will you have us?”
“Why should I trust you? How do I know you won’t just turn us over to the raiders to save yourselves?” Vlek nearly spat out the words.
“That is a wise question befitting a leader of your stature,” Locambius spread his arms wide in a placating gesture. “We suffered from the Markay attacks as you did. We share a common foe and so share a common goal.”
From the shelter of the crowd Peek saw Vlek’s face and the intricate play of emotions over it. In all his young years, Peek had learned well how to read the map of danger and safety on Vlek’s visage. He had been drinking today, but not so much that he couldn’t think nor so much that his anger took control. That was good, but almost as dangerous as a fully drunk Vlek. For a heartbeat Peek thought that Vlek looked straight at him, in a panic Peek crouched lower behind Adrocus. He fought the trembling that threatened to take over his limbs and waited for Vlek to continue speaking before he dared to look again.
“It is true,” Vlek conceded, “We have a common enemy — more than one, in fact — it seems to me that both our peoples are fighting the coming winter and we cannot help but compete in that battle.”
“We are here to help, not compete over food and shelter,” Locambius bowed a bit.
Vlek smiled at him a warm, welcoming grin that sent chills through Peek’s bowels, “We welcome any help. But we have no way of knowing that your presence will help us and not hurt us. What do you have to offer us that we cannot do on our own?”
Locambius turned and spoke quietly with Rudi who stood behind him. Rudi nodded and stepped back into the crowd of monks. In a moment the drum players stepped forward and began their sonorous, throbbing song. Together they played and commanded the stones to dance along. From all the burned huts’ foundation stones spun and fluttered away from the dirt and ash that mired them. They moved in precise, fluid arcs and landed together, forming a circular shape. Row upon row of stones departed ruined huts and stacked up into a perfect replica of the beehive dwellings from the monastery.
“Good sir, we can help you rebuild.”
From behind Locambius the few remaining whistle players stepped forward and the drum players retreated. The whistles lifted and played a fierce wind that blew against everyone for a moment until it coalesced into a tight, spinning dust devil that bore down on the newly created stone hut. The dust devil spun faster and faster with the tune of the monks until it slammed into the stone and destroyed the hut.
“And we can help defend you
against attacks.”
Vlek looked at the rubble remaining of the hut and then over at Locambius. Peek caught the barest hint of a feral grin when Vlek looked at him before he said, “I welcome your help and we offer you ours in return. Come, let us break bread together and consider our plans.”
“Lead the way,” Locambius said.
Vlek walked back the way he had come, but the villagers parted to allow Locambius and the monks to follow. Peek kept his head down and dared not look at anyone lest they recognize him. His body shrieked at him to run away as fast and as far as he could, but this would be the worst possible time to make his escape. From the moment the monks left the island, or shortly after, there had been villagers watching the boats. After the raider attack they were on guard for anything. Though no one greeted them at the shore, Peek knew that someone had watched the group the entire time. He couldn’t have left the monks without being seen and, quite likely, recognized. Hopefully in a few hours when it was dark he could wander away and finally leave this behind him.
Peek walked in silence. He recalled the expressions that passed over Vlek’s face in the blink of an eye. He only allowed the monks to stay so he could use them for his purposes and to gain more power. Peek knew Vlek would not cede any power to the monks and, most likely, was already plotting ways he might use them to gain more power for himself.
“I think you should train to become a monk,” Locambius had drifted back into the crowd and now stood next to Peek.
“What?” It took Peek a moment to realize that the old man knew, at least in part, about his conversation with Adrocus.
“I know you don’t want to trust me; you don’t want to trust anyone,” Locambius walked without looking at Peek, helping to hide him from the villagers, “Trust is a risk and you might be hurt by it. I trusted my friend to leave the monastery and it hurt me. Deeply. But without trust we aren’t a community, we aren’t together. We weren’t made to live by ourselves, isolated by suspicion and doubt.
“I want you to join our order. I want you to train as a monk. I want you to learn the magic and to follow The Melody. But I don’t just want that for my own ends. I want it for you because I think it will be good for you. It was the best thing that ever happened to me and I want to share it with you. I hate that this decision is coming to you with so much riding on it. I wish you were carefree and could choose The Melody for the joy of the dance like I did. But we cannot change our past, we can only choose our future.
“The choice is yours, including the consequences. You know my thoughts on the matter. You must find your own.”
Before Peek could respond they arrived at the hastily rebuilt hut where Vlek lived. He’d taken the chief’s hut — Peek still didn’t know how Vlek had come to that position — and performed the essential repairs to the walls and roof to make it habitable again. All the rest of the huts were in various states of ruin, but the chief’s hut, Vlek’s hut, was mostly put back together.
Inside the walls a fire burned in the pit at the center. Vlek walked over to the elevated chair on the far side and motioned for Locambius to find a seat opposite him. Peek had had little opportunity to visit the chief’s hut. Vlek didn’t want him to rise above himself. The walls were round and mud like all the other huts, but this one was about thirty feet in diameter. It seemed huge and close at the same time. It swallowed up the band of monks and a few villagers besides. All around signs of the raiders’ work were evident in scorch marks and rents in the mud walls.
Locambius stepped forward while the rest of the monks gathered at the rear of the hut. Peek stood behind Rudi — the largest of the monks — and hoped. Cor entered and stood beside Vlek’s seat. He seemed uncomfortable, but resigned to this being his life. Vlek sat up straighter and clapped his hands. The dancing shadows of sunlight admitted by the opening of the leather curtain told Peek that people entered. Bread and wine were distributed among the monks by a servant that Peek couldn’t quite see. It wasn’t until she turned to serve Vlek that Peek had a moment of recognition. He saw his mother, Rea, as a maidservant. She gave bread and wine to Vlek and Cor and then bowed low before leaving. Not once did she look at Peek or show an instant of recognition.
He wanted her to see him, but feared that she might have. Part of him was relieved and another disappointed that she didn’t know her own son. Perhaps she couldn’t see in the darkened hut, he thought, or maybe Vlek had taken to beating her in Peek’s absence. Maybe she feared Vlek’s wrath if she showed any love for Peek. Maybe that’s why she’d all but ignored him during his childhood. The familiar thoughts threatened to drown him; instead he buried them and focused on the situation. Bread and wine with Vlek.
The conversation between Locambius and Vlek went on into the evening. Peek mostly ignored it. The specific details of the agreement struck were too confusing for him to follow in a warm, dark hut with a belly full of bread, wine, meat, and still more wine. The warmth of the beverage radiated out from his stomach and into his ears, toes, and fingers. Peek found himself smiling and relaxing more and more as the evening progressed.
All he really knew was that the monks and the villagers were going to work together to fend off the raiders. The monks would provide the magic to rebuild the village and also to build a fortified monastery on the bluffs overlooking the sea. From there they would stand watch against the coming of the Markay and provide a defense against their attacks. The walls of the monastery would be high and strong enough to fend off the raiders and shelter both the villagers and the monks should it come to that.
In return the villagers would train fighters to attack the raiders as they came. Instead of each villager trying to defend their own huts and families, the monks would provide the defense if the villagers would fight as a group against the raiders. Vlek would command the village militia and schedule regular training with spears and bows for them. Vlek wanted swords and axes, but neither the villagers nor the monks had a swordsmith.
Peek found himself nodding off. Rudi pulled him to his feet and they walked together toward the door of the hut. Peek guessed the negotiations must be over for the night. Monks continued to crowd around him as a shield. As they were about to leave Vlek raised his voice and asked them a question.
“Will the other monk be staying with you when he returns?”
Even in his stupefied state Peek noticed the monks around him go rigid at Vlek’s words. Peek gathered what attention he could, sensing something important was just said.
Locambius turned back to face Vlek. “Which monk do you speak of?”
“The one who came here a few days ago, and before that a year or more back. Is he not one of yours? He looks remarkably like you. I’d assumed he was one of your people.”
“I assure you he is not. The only true monks are the ones who came with me today. The one of which you speak is — if I am thinking of the right person — an outcast and apostate. You will turn him away if he comes back.”
Vlek’s emotions played more slowly across his face due to the drinking of the evening. Peek saw doubt, anger, and then the slow smile of perceived advantage.
“I will welcome a demon,” Vlek said, “If it can help me defend my people against the raiders. And, old man, I will not be told how to rule my village. You have magic and so does this other monk. Both of you are welcome here under the same terms: help us fight the raiders. If you don’t want him to stay with your people, that is nothing to me. But he will stay in the village. If I find that you try to dissuade him in any way, you and your monks will be driven away as well.”
Locambius didn’t bother to respond. He turned and led the monks out of the hut. They heard the sound of Vlek chuckling as they walked off into the night.
Nine
Twenty more years passed. Eytskaim was older than anyone had ever seen. His beard reached the floor when he stood and all his hair shone bright white.
His chief disciple was also old, but he had not the vitality of his master. He tottered forth to question Eytskaim aga
in, knowing that it would be his last attempt.
“Dear Eytskaim, I am near unto death. I only wish to know the source of your wisdom and power before I am laid to rest.”
Eytskaim was lost in thought not for one, two, or seven days, but for thirty days and nights. The other disciples forced their chief to bed after the second night and they all took turns waiting in the king’s throne room for his answer. When it came, the chief disciple was just leaving to retire for the night. He turned at the sound of Eytskaim’s voice.
“It is time.”
“Do you make the music or does the music make you?” Eugenius of Mainistir
P
eek woke with a headache and a dry, foul-tasting mouth. Squinting against the too-bright light he almost sympathized with Vlek’s perpetual anger if this was how he felt after his few cups of wine. Adrocus pushed at him, apparently for the second or third time.
“Peek, you need to get up.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s here.”
“Who?”
“The Apostate.”
“What’s an ‘Apostate’?”
“He’s the monk who left our order. He’s here at the village and he wants to talk to you.”
Peek swallowed against the wave of nausea that flowed over him. Sitting up felt like climbing the steps of the monastery again. But slowly he moved into an upright position with the help of Adrocus.
“Too much wine last night?”
Peek groaned in response.
“Let me get you some water. You don’t have time to sleep it off. I’ll see if there’s any bread left. Something in your stomach will help too.”
Adrocus left and Peek looked around to see where he’d spent the previous night. It was one of the village huts, with a wall and roof of grass where the fire had eaten away the mud and straw. He pushed himself to his feet and felt a fresh wave of pain and nausea. So far Peek didn’t much appreciate the virtues of wine consumption.
