by James T Wood
Adrocus returned with the water and a crust of bread from the night before. Peek drank and chewed gingerly. After a few swallows he started to feel a bit better.
“Who is this ‘Apostate’ and why is it so important that he’s here?” Peek had to soften up the bread with swigs of water from the skin Adrocus brought him.
“I don’t really know how to answer that. You know he was once friends with Locambius?” Adrocus remained standing in the doorway to the hut.
Peek wondered if he should get up too, but his head and stomach demanded stillness, “No, I didn’t know that.”
“They grew up together and joined the order together. They were nearly inseparable until just a few years ago, right after I came to the monastery and started my training.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. The Apostate was the only one who would leave the island, and after one trip he came back, talked to Locambius, and after that they almost never spoke to each other again,” Adrocus searched the hut and found Peek’s sandals, “The Apostate kept mostly to himself. He often meditated at one of the listening places—”
“Listening places?” Peek asked around a mouthful of hard, dry bread.
“Spots where the veil between our reality and that of The Melody is thin,” Adrocus tossed the sandals to Peek as he put the final crust of bread into his mouth, “It’s much easier to hear the wisdom of The Melody at listening places. We build — that is to say we built — our monasteries near listening places. It helps us to learn the songs of magic. Anyway, the Apostate just listened for a long time and, eventually, he left.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know and I didn’t ask. Locambius told us that he had been swayed by evil thoughts and had rejected the wisdom of The Melody. He stopped being our brother then. Now he’s our enemy and an enemy of The Melody.”
“Just for disagreeing with Locambius?”
“I told you, I don’t know what they said,” he shook his head, “but I trust Locambius. He’s not like that. It had to be something more than that.”
“But what about—”
“He’s here. We need to go. Maybe we can talk more later.” Adrocus pulled Peek to his feet and they left the hut. As they stepped outside Peek felt like a mouse coming out of its den, knowing that an eagle, a snake, or a cat would soon end him.
Adrocus led him through the ruins of the village to a place near where Dray’s family had lived. Their hut was burned to the ground. The blackened earth showed no signs of life or hope. Peek thought he saw a shape that may have been a bone, but soon they were past the hut and moving along.
It dawned on him that he had yet to see Dray. She wasn’t at the gathering to greet the monks, nor was she in the chief’s — Vlek’s — hut. Did she die? Was she carried off by raiders? Did she flee? Did it matter?
Peek couldn’t make himself care less about her, but he knew she cared nothing for him. The accident of his birth guaranteed it. She didn’t even want to see his face when Peek had come to speak to her, to ask her to leave with him. A year or more of companionship wasn’t enough to cover his humiliation or her disgust. Peek fought the tears even as he struggled to decide if they were from grief or shame. Did it matter?
On the other side of the kitchen garden that had served Dray’s family was a tent and around it gathered the monks. The entrance to the tent was on the opposite side so Peek and Adrocus could not see into it, but they could look into the faces of Locambius and his lieutenants.
“…aren’t welcome here,” they heard Locambius say with his arms crossed over his beard. His head was thrown back in a posture of command and his feet set as if against a blowing wind.
“My dear friend,” Peek heard the voice but refused to place it. This was the Apostate speaking, not anyone he had ever known, “Tell me what I can do to reconcile the wound between us.”
“Why?” Locambius’ nostrils flared and his brow furrowed. On Vlek, Peek would interpret those expressions as signs of impending violence.
“For love of The Melody,” Locambius scoffed at the words even as the Apostate continued, “and for the sake of my student. She begged that we help her village.”
Peek’s pulse quickened and the saliva fled his mouth.
“You compound your apostasy by spreading it to the young,” Locambius nearly spat the words.
“Brother, friend, please. I am willing to obey you, for the sake of this village and these young ones. For the sake of The Melody,” The voice begged for a face, but Peek refused its request.
“Trust, once broken, cannot be so easily mended,” Locambius breathed for a moment and calmed himself, “Can you at least agree to keep your filth away from the brothers and sisters?”
Peek heard the catch of emotion in the response, “As you wish dear brother.”
“You lost the right to call me that!” Locambius’ anger finally found vent.
“Hey, I don’t know who you are, but you can’t talk to him like that,” Peek’s world shrank down to the sounds of the new voice. The voice that he could never mistake nor misplace.
“I, young lady, am the leader of the last monastery of the Darrian Monks, defender of the World Song, and servant of The Melody,” Locambius pulled the titles around himself as a shield. “You are with a man who has forsaken his vows and forsworn his brothers and sisters. I beg you to abandon him. If you have skill, we will train you in the truth.”
Dray replied, “I haven’t heard of you, but I do know that Plafius saved me from the raiders and he has helped my village as best he could. You might call that wrong, but I think he’s a good man.”
Peek slowly realized that his jaw was gaping open.
“I will not argue with you,” Locambius said to Dray, then shifted to the Apostate before saying, “Earn the trust you lost. Forsake the vile, dangerous magic, and we may yet have a place for you.” With that Locambius turned and strode away so quickly that his beard streamed out behind him. The rest of the gathered monks followed. Peek panicked. He had to hide within the group but they were angling away from the tent instead of walking toward him. If he stepped within sight of Dray and Plafius they would identify him immediately and then Vlek would know.
Adrocus started toward his brothers and sisters when he noticed Peek hadn’t moved. He came back and read the fear on Peek’s face, “Walk to my right,” he whispered. That would put Adrocus between Peek and the tent. Hopefully it would be enough.
They were just at the edge of the crowd of monks when he heard her, “Peek? Peek is that you?” He weighed ignoring her or running or spinning to confront her. His body settled on freezing in place.
As if from a great distance Peek heard the sounds of Dray pushing through the monks. His numb body vaguely sensed a hand on his shoulder and offered no resistance as she spun him around to face her.
Before Peek could even see her face with its sun-browned skin and handful of freckles, she pulled him into an embrace. Peek’s benumbed mind and body had no recompense. She held him and, slowly, his arms crept up to grip her tightly. Warmth flowed over the gaping wounds in his heart, but did not heal them.
“Dray, come away from them,” Plafius strode up behind her and gently pried apart the young ones. His sharp intake of breath brought Peek’s face up to meet the gaze of the Apostate, “Peek, I didn’t know…”
Peek searched for words. Words to describe his anger at being abandoned. Words to describe the betrayal of Plafius taking Dray as a student but not him. Words to express the shock of Dray’s embrace. Words to question the nature of apostasy. Words to beg for their silence so that Vlek wouldn’t discover him among the monks.
Locambius supplied words for Peek, “He paddled to our island, past the currents. He is strong in magic and will train with us,” the monk’s arm went again around Peek’s shoulder. He felt the protectiveness of the movement but also a sense of possessiveness.
Plafius’ eyes widened a bit but then narrowed. He put his arm around Dray in
a mirror image of Locambius and guided her away. As he left, Plafius uttered, “I’m sorry for the intrusion, dear brother.” Dray looked at Peek with doubt and hurt that tore at him and reopened the wounds her embrace had salved.
“I would ask,” Locambius said quickly as the two were turning to go, “that you keep the young sir’s presence between you. He would rather that the rest of the village not know he is among us.”
Plafius nodded over his shoulder and led Dray back toward the tent.
Locambius turned Peek and the monks continued away from the encounter, “I apologize for speaking for you. You seemed…” he left the rest unspoken.
Peek was both grateful and ashamed. He wanted to choose, to act, to be in charge of his own life. That was why he built a boat and paddled away. But as much as he tried to take control, his life slipped out of his grasp like he was trying to tightly grip a wet fish.
Perhaps it was best if Peek wasn’t the one in charge. Perhaps it wasn’t control that was bad, but the one who had exerted the control. Peek squeezed his eyes tight for a moment before blurting, “When does my training start?”
Ten
A hush fell over those gathered in the chamber. They saw the ancient king rise and leave the throne room. At the door he took his chief disciple’s arm and began to lead him. They left the grand palace, walked through the elegant gardens, past the statues of gold and bronze, and to a hidden corner of the palace grounds. It wasn’t intentionally obscured, merely lost to time. The rough, stone wall looked strange amid the imported marble columns and limestone sheathed walls. Gray, old, and lonely, the wall stood watch against no known foe.
As they passed through the gate, the chief disciple glimpsed paradise. Despite the simplicity of the stone construction, inside the wall was perfection. An enormous tree stood by the edge of a sapphire pool. The tree shaded what seemed like an acre with its broad limbs. Fruit nearly dripped from every branch.
Eytskaim led his disciple to the trunk where he lovingly placed his hand on the gnarled wood. The disciple saw tears in his master’s eyes as he spoke.
“This is the source of my wisdom and power.”
“The beginning of wisdom is the denial of understanding.” Abericus of Cransdun
A
drocus found Peek after the monks had returned to the cluster of huts and tents that Vlek had assigned to them and said, “I’m here to begin your training.”
Adrocus led him down a path toward the sea. They passed beyond the nebulous borders of the village and moved toward the south where a bluff overlooked the crashing waves. Other monks were moving around the space playing their instruments and clearing the area of underbrush with magical proficiency. They walked down to the short, sandy strip that made up the shore between the bluff on the one side and the protruding headland on the other. The sheltered cove between gave protection from the worst of the waves, which made the beach more a collection of stones and coarse sand than the point farther north where Peek had launched his journey to the island.
Together they walked along. Peek kept waiting for Adrocus to start training him and imagined all the ways that the training might proceed. Since Vlek had rarely taught Peek, he had little understanding of what to expect. Adrocus wouldn’t try to beat him into submission, but other than that, Peek didn’t know. After walking for several minutes Adrocus stopped at a large rock and sat down. Peek joined him.
“You know we take turns in being the song-guide?”
Peek looked over at Adrocus, unsure of what response was expected. Eventually he went on unanswered.
“The lot fell to me this time. But I don’t know what I have to offer. I’m the youngest monk and you are unlike any other monk that has ever come to train.”
“It’s a big world, there has to have been someone like me,” Peek hoped that it was encouraging.
“I talked with Rudi, Bracius, and even Locambius. They can’t recall even a mention of something like this in our scriptures and writings. But I don’t know them as well as the others do. And now that they’re gone…” Adrocus looked away from the waves lapping at the shore and stared at Peek for a moment before turning back to the sea, “The raiders have all our texts. We remember some of them, but not all. I mostly focused on the training and doctrine, not the prophecies that people didn’t expect to come true.”
“What do you mean ‘prophecies’?” Peek stiffened and turned toward Adrocus.
He looked up at the puffy, white cloud scudding past on the late morning breeze and sighed, “I don’t even like the word ‘prophecy’ myself. It’s full of all kinds of portents that I don’t think are really warranted. I had to read through all the scriptures in order to become a full monk, but I mostly skimmed over all the silly poetry. Some of the brothers and sisters think they’re meant to come true, but usually it’s written so vaguely that it could mean anything so the people who want it to come true interpret it after the fact and then point to their interpretation as proof.”
Peek frowned as he tried to follow the flow of Adrocus’ words, “So, they just make things up?”
Adrocus shrugged and kicked his heel against the stone on which they sat, “I’m not sure I’d go that far. I think there’s some reason the ancients passed on these scriptures. They didn’t do it on a whim. They thought there was something important enough to copy and preserve.”
“Like what?” Peek didn’t read, but found the whole idea fascinating, if a bit confusing.
“Locambius and Rudi have been arguing about a prophecy,” he turned and gave Peek a wry smile, “You know, when they aren’t arguing about everything else.”
Peek returned the smile, but his curiosity continued to grow, “What is it about?”
“Locambius thought he could recall a little bit, but it wasn’t good.”
“What did it say?”
“Mostly gibberish, as far as I can tell. Something about a ‘songless tune’ and the doors of the sea being broken.”
“What does the rest of the prophecy say?” Peek swallowed hard.
Adrocus stared at his feet and barely spoke the word, “Doom. That’s all they could remember.”
“Doom?” Peek whispered the echo.
“Don’t worry about that,” Adrocus changed tone and clapped his hands together as if to dispel the ominous tone of their conversation past, “We’ll get you trained and you’ll be using all kinds of songs to make your tunes.”
“So how does the training start?” Peek shifted himself to face Adrocus instead of the ocean. The image of the dead and dying monks was never far from Peek’s mind. His magic, his failure, had killed the monks and raiders alike. He feared it — whatever the songless magic was — and he feared himself for using it. What if it came out again? What if it killed again? What if he killed again? He hoped the training would quell it, subdue it. If he knew any god to pray to, he would have prayed to be free of the magic.
“Well, the first day you’re supposed to do a series of impossible tasks to get you to ask for help so I can show you the magic. But, since you’ve already seen — and done — the magic, that seems kind of pointless now.”
“Plus, I’m really good at doing impossible tasks,” Peek forced a laugh hoping to cover his fear with humor. Adrocus laughed in response. Peek continued, “Tell me about the chores.”
“Well the first one is to make fire without any tools. The next one is to fetch water without a well. After that you’re supposed to quarry stone without tools and then to dry clothes without any time.”
“What’s so special about those tasks?”
“They correspond to the four elements: earth, air, fire, and water.”
“Locambius was telling me a bit about the elements,” Peek leaned closer and dropped his voice, “He told me that mixing the songs from the elements was dangerous. That’s what happened when… when the raiders…” Tears stole his voice.
“It’s very dangerous. That’s why we keep them separate. From what I understand, you accidentally mixed fire a
nd water. The steam created an explosion.”
Peek still saw the crushed monks under the wall of his construction. When he closed his eyes they were there. In his dreams they writhed and screamed and accused him. No matter how many times people told him that it wasn’t his fault, the weight of their deaths didn’t lessen.
Adrocus just put a hand on Peek’s shoulder and they sat there for several minutes staring at the waves foaming and retreating on the coarse sand.
“Tell me more about the elements,” Peek said hoarsely.
Adrocus squeezed his shoulder, “Sure. But first I should at least tell you about the point of the first lesson, especially if you aren’t going to actually do it. If Locambius or someone else asks, you should be able to tell them.”
“Isn’t that lying?”
“No, it’s a different teaching method. They gave me the job of being your song-guide, so it’s ultimately my choice.”
“Then why does everyone do the chores?”
“Tradition, I guess.”
“It’s not in your scriptures or something?”
“No, it’s just something that we’ve done as long as anyone can remember. There’s nothing special about the chores, just the lesson you’re supposed to learn.”
“What’s that?”
“Ask for help.”
“Huh?”
“Ask for help.”
“No, I heard you fine, I just don’t quite get it. How is that a lesson?”
“When is the last time you asked for help?” Adrocus kept staring at the waves as Peek stared at him.
Peek hadn’t really thought about it, “I don’t know. Maybe when I was a child. It’s been a long time.”
“That’s the point. We work so hard to eliminate the urge to ask for help that we need to relearn the skill. Asking for help is the beginning of learning. It takes humility and a willingness to admit that you might not have all the right answers on your own.”
