The Mask Wearer

by Bryan Perro

  “I don’t mean you any harm,” Amos said calmly as he tried to engage the bear in dialogue. “I’ve come to talk to you about your parents. Please … you’re crushing me.”

  To Amos’s astonishment, the bear’s body regained some of its human shape. Its head was now that of the boy at the market. But he kept the huge, sharp teeth of a beast. And his right arm, still in midair as if ready to strike, kept the form of a bear’s paw, but his left arm had come back to normal and was pinning Amos against the ground.

  “I don’t trust you!” the humanimal said, even though the trident remained aimed at his throat. “I’ve seen you several times with the knights. You even live at an inn that belongs to one of them. I noticed you well before you knew I existed. You’re a spy and I will kill you.”

  “Well, if you’re going to kill me, get it over with. And since you know me so well, you must be aware that I am not from this realm and that I’m not a threat to you,” Amos said. “I advise you to eat me quickly. But if you do, you’ll never know what happened to your parents.”

  On a signal from the humanimal, the bees flew back to their hives. The bear then became completely human again. He abandoned his aggressive behavior and became a mere fat boy sitting on the ground. He started to cry softly.

  “I know what the knights did to my parents,” he said. “They believed that my mother and father turned all the villagers in the surrounding towns to stone. But I’m not a sorcerer and neither were my parents. I won’t hurt you. Actually, I would rather have you kill me. That way, I’d be free of my sorrow.”

  As Amos got up, he noticed that his armor was ripped. The bear’s claws had gone through the leather, leaving four long tears. Without that protection, Amos knew he would have been seriously injured.

  “You’re very strong!” Amos said. “Since you already know the fate of your parents, let me say how sorry I am. If there is anything I can do to help you, just let me know.”

  The boy seemed satisfied. He smiled. There was no trace of vengeance in his dark eyes. His chubby pink cheeks, his long blond side-whiskers, and his plump body made him instantly likeable. He would have looked like a normal boy were it not for the whiskers, the thick eyebrows that met above his nose, and the hair that covered the palms of his hands.

  “This is the first time I’ve seen a human show any kindness to a humanimal,” he said. “My name is Beorf Bromanson. Very few like me remain in the world. I belong to a people known as man-beasts. Some legends say that humanimals were the first beings on this planet. We had kings and magnificent realms in the depths of immense forests. Each family was linked in soul and in blood to an animal. There were man-dogs, man-birds, and a great number of creatures that had the ability to shape-shift into whatever they wanted to be. As for me, I come from the bear line. Sadly, humans never trusted us, and killed many of us. In fact, I’ve never met any other humanimal other than my parents. My father used to say that we were probably the last family in the bear line still alive on this earth. Now I’m probably the last of my race.”

  Amos suddenly thought that since Beorf lived in the forest, he might know something about the mysterious and wicked force that was wreaking so much damage in the realm. So he asked the humanimal whether he knew who or what was transforming the villagers into statues.

  “I do know,” Beorf said. “But it’s a long story and I am too sad and too tired to talk about it now. Come see me tomorrow and I’ll tell you all I know about those horrible creatures.”

  The two boys shook hands warmly. Amos was pleased to have met Beorf and promised to come back early the next day. He started off and was nearly in the thick of the forest when he heard the galloping of horses. He turned around and saw a dozen Knights of Light throwing a net over Beorf. Transformed into a bear, the humanimal was struggling to free itself of the trap. The bees were stinging the armored men furiously. One of the knights knocked Beorf out while another one set fire to the wooden house. Once the beast lay unconscious, the bees stopped their fight and returned to their hives.

  In the net, the bear morphed into his human form. His feet and hands were tied up before he was loaded onto a horse. Amos wanted to run to his aid, but he wisely thought that rather than confronting the powerful knights, it was best to find another way to try and save his friend. Hidden in the woods, he saw the knights take Beorf away. Huge flames were now consuming the cottage. The sight made Amos remember Beorf’s words: “Sadly, humans never trusted us, and killed many of us.”

  Frantically he ran back toward Bratel-la-Grande.

  —5—

  THE GAME OF TRUTH

  When Amos reached the capital, he was out of breath and exhausted. But he went straightaway to the Shield and the Sword. Barthelemy was at the inn, chatting with three other knights. They had all removed their armor and were applying ointment over the many bee stings that covered their skin. They had been stung everywhere: under their arms, behind their knees, in their mouths, even under their feet.

  “Those bees are real devils! Look, they stung me on the palm of the hand I use to hold my sword,” said one knight. “How’s that possible? My hand was solidly around the handle of my weapon, and yet those blasted bees managed to sting me there!”

  “That’s nothing compared to what they did to me,” complained another one. “Look at my right leg; it’s almost paralyzed because of the swelling. I counted exactly fifty-three stings. And yet there is nothing on my left leg. Those bees knew exactly what they were doing by concentrating all their efforts to deprive me of one leg. An enemy on the ground is an enemy vanquished! Those little devils knew how to keep me down.”

  “And they stung me in the mouth and around the eyes,” said the third one, with a lisp. “I can hardly see anything! At least I can still talk!”

  Amos approached Barthelemy and told him that he wanted to speak with him in private. They moved away from the others.

  “You made a mistake when you captured the young humanimal in the forest,” Amos said. “He has nothing to do with the misfortunes that have befallen the realm, and he’s the only one who knows something about the real enemy. You have to set him free!”

  Barthelemy seemed surprised. “How do you know this? In any case, there is nothing I can do. He’s going to be put to death tomorrow at sunrise.”

  “We have to save him,” Amos insisted. “If there is nothing you can do, who should I speak to to gain his freedom?”

  “Yaune the Purifier, my young friend!” declared the knight in a respectful tone. “He decreed that any person accused of witchcraft was to be put on the pyre. The knights obey their master and never criticize his orders. Humanimals are treacherous beings that deserve to die. Tonight you’ll be able to attend the boy’s trial. I advise you not to defend him. You could meet the same outcome and end up with him on the fire.”

  Amos asked Barthelemy what the trial consisted of, since it was evident that Beorf’s fate had already been decided.

  “The humanimal will be submitted to the game of truth. Yaune puts two pieces of paper in his helmet. The word ‘guilty’ is written on one, ‘innocent’ on the other. The accused draws one of the pieces of paper. His choice determines his guilt or innocence. I’ve never seen any accused pull out the piece that says ‘innocent.’ The light inspires Yaune the Purifier and he’s never wrong. If your friend is innocent, the truth will come out and he’ll be saved. But by my word as a knight, that would be the first time it has ever happened!”

  Amos walked around the city as he waited for Beorf’s trial. The market square had been transformed into a tribunal. In a few hours, the trial would start. His friend, imprisoned in a cage, was exposed to the eyes and insults of passersby. Some of them threw tomatoes and rotten eggs at him. Beorf fumed silently but his hatred and disdain were clear. Amos met his gaze and gave a quick nod.

  Why did it always have to be this way? Amos wondered. Why was ignorance always pushing humans to imprison innocent people, to humiliate them publicly, and to threaten to execute the
m? Maybe Beorf would be placed on the pyre as his parents had been, condemned without any proof of wrongdoing. And all the villagers gathered in the town square were already salivating at the thought of the upcoming spectacle. Didn’t they have any compassion? Hadn’t this town, under the pretext of protecting itself, killed enough innocent victims? It seemed they needed still another, and probably more, to satisfy their appetite for blood. All these knights thought they were doing the right thing; none looked farther than the tip of his nose to question his actions. Amos, his stomach upset and his heart constricted, felt suddenly nauseated. He threw up behind the dilapidated wall of a deserted house.

  An impressive crowd was assembling in the town square when Amos returned. He started pacing up and down, his brain working at full speed. He had to save his new friend, but how? Unable to explain why, he was convinced that Yaune the Purifier’s game of truth was a mere ruse to instill fear in those he ruled. But what was the trick?

  Amos picked up two stones of the exact same size but of different colors and put them in his pocket. The darker stone represented the word “guilty,” the pale one the word “innocent.” After ten tries, Amos drew the pale stone six times, the darker stone four times. Again and again he tried, with much the same results. But not once did Amos pick the same stone ten times in a row. So he concluded that it was impossible that Yaune’s game of truth could be fair. According to Barthelemy, there had been many trials and none of the accused had ever won their freedom. They had all been found guilty, which went against all logic.

  Suddenly everything became clear in Amos’s mind. If every accused person invariably chose the word “guilty,” it had to be because the word was written on both pieces of paper! Clearly, Yaune was a player who lied and cheated. It was the only explanation. Now Amos had to figure out a way to prove the lord of Bratel-la-Grande’s treachery so Beorf could go free.

  The trial was set to start and Amos was still looking for an answer to his problem. When he threw the dark stone on the ground for the last time, he hit upon a crystal clear solution. He laughed. He had just found a way to liberate his friend.

  Yaune the Purifier moved toward the dais. He was a tall man of about sixty years. His long gray hair was gathered in a ponytail, and he had a thick gray beard. A long scar went from his right eye down to his upper lip. His armor was the color of gold. Two white wings adorned the sides of his helmet, and around his neck he wore a long chain with a big skull-shaped pendant. The skull was carved out of a green stone, with two eyes that seemed to be huge diamonds. Yaune was an imposing ruler, and his solemn expression commanded respect.

  The crowd was agitated, milling and feverish. The gates of Bratel-la-Grande had been closed for the night, and all the knights were present. Under a thunderous round of applause, Yaune the Purifier started to speak.

  “We are gathered here so that the light will triumph once more. Dear citizens of Bratel-la-Grande, the boy that you see before you in this cage is a sorcerer. Several knights witnessed his transformation into a beast. A knight never lies, and the word of my men cannot be doubted. The magic of this sorcerer is powerful, and just like the others we’ve caught, he will be condemned to the purifying fire so that our realm can be saved. That is, of course, unless the game of truth proves his innocence. Only if we eliminate all forms of witchcraft will we overcome the curse that is upon us. Truth and light are our guides and until now our intuitions have been just and our actions courageous. If any among you doubts the guilt of the young sorcerer, let him be heard now or forever be silent!”

  A deep silence fell over the crowd.

  “I would like to be heard,” Amos shouted as he raised his hand. His shaky voice betrayed his nervousness. “I know that you are mistaken!”

  The eyes of the crowd were immediately upon him, a boy who dared to question the word of the Knights of Light and Yaune the Purifier.

  “Quiet, young man!” ordered Yaune. “Your youth and lack of experience are the excuse for your impertinence. Now withdraw your words or you’ll pay dearly for them!”

  “I maintain what I just said, sir,” Amos answered as he regained some confidence. “This boy is called Beorf and he’s my friend. He belongs to the race of humanimals. He’s not a sorcerer and does not turn people into statues. I believe that if you burn this boy, you will never understand what is happening in your realm. He is the only one who has seen the creatures who threaten your safety. He’s innocent of the crimes you accuse him of!”

  For the first time during his rule, Yaune the Purifier was being challenged.

  “Do you think, little weasel, that you are wiser than the lord of Bratel-la-Grande?” Yaune demanded to know. “For nearly forty years I have fought the occult forces of this world. I have given my blood for the truth. I have lost men, even whole armies. I have sacrificed a great deal to see man’s light prevail over the world of darkness. Approach the dais so I can see you better.”

  Amos came closer, with dignity and in silence. Yaune smiled at the boy with the long braid, the torn leather armor, and the trident over his shoulder. Barthelemy intervened.

  “Excuse him, great lord,” the knight said, kneeling in front of Yaune. “I know this boy. He is foolish and doesn’t know what he’s doing. He lives with his parents at my mother’s inn. They’re travelers who recently arrived here. His father and his mother know nothing of his behavior. Forgive him and I will vouch for him.”

  Yaune looked down at his knight. “Very well, valiant Barthelemy. Your father saved my life several times and I owe you the same respect that I had for him. Take this boy away and make sure that I don’t see him again at Bratel-la-Grande.”

  A man stepped out of the crowd. “Lord, my name is Urban Daragon. I know my son better than anyone else. I can assure you that if Amos says that your prisoner is innocent, he’s right. Barthelemy is a good man, and I understand his desire to protect travelers whom he has befriended. The Daragon family thanks him with all their hearts, but I have always taught my son to act according to his convictions. May I also add that Amos is not foolish and that many would gain by listening to what he has to say.”

  Yaune quickly dismissed Barthelemy with a gesture of his hand. “Let the will of the father prevail! We will see to it that justice is done. I will subject the boy to the game of truth. We’ll play for the fate of the young sorcerer. I will put two pieces of paper in my helmet. On one will be written the word ‘innocent,’ on the other the word ‘guilty.’ ” Yaune looked at Amos. “You must draw one of the papers at random. If you choose the paper with the word ‘innocent,’ I’ll spare the life of your sorcerer friend. But if you choose the paper that says ‘guilty,’ three of you will be put on the pyre—the young sorcerer, your father, and you. Those who dare come to the defense of Yaune the Purifier’s enemies are traitors who deserve death. This will teach your father that it’s better to follow the rules of the master than one’s own convictions. Bring me two pieces of paper so I can get started!”

  As Yaune wrote on the pieces of paper, Amos nodded discreetly at Beorf.

  “I abide by the rules of this realm and I’ll gladly play the game of truth,” Amos said. “Allow me, though, to see what you wrote on the two pieces of paper before you put them in your helmet.”

  Yaune seemed surprised by this request but quickly pulled himself together.

  “Enough nonsense and foolishness,” he declared. “I am a knight. I do not lie or cheat. Approach the dais and let the truth shine on everyone’s life.”

  The uneasiness shown by the lord of Bratel-la-Grande strengthened Amos’s belief that he had written “guilty” on both pieces of paper. He could see it in the old man’s eyes. As for Urban Daragon, he was perspiring heavily as he hoped that his son would come up with a way to spare them from the pyre. Barthelemy too was anxiously watching the scene, sure that he would witness the death of his friends the next morning. And Beorf, who was holding his breath, could not believe that Amos was putting his own life and that of his father on the line to
save him, a humanimal that everybody despised. The crowd was calm, certain of the outcome of the game. Never had the lord of the realm made a mistake, and no one doubted that there would be a big fire in Bratel-la-Grande the following day.

  Amos calmly dipped his hand inside the helmet. Then, in a flash, he grabbed one of the pieces of paper, popped it in his mouth, and swallowed it.

  “What are you doing, you fool?” Yaune hollered.

  Amos smiled. “It’s simple enough,” he said. “I took one of the pieces of paper and ate it.”

  The crowd snickered, angering Yaune. “But why did you do that, you stupid boy?” he raged.

  Amos answered solemnly. “Now that I’ve eaten the paper I chose, no one here knows if my friend is innocent or guilty. To find out, all we have to do is look at the paper that remains in the helmet. If the word ‘innocent’ is written on it, it means that I ate the paper with the word ‘guilty.’ Therefore you’ll burn us early tomorrow morning. On the other hand, if the word ‘guilty’ is written on the paper in the helmet, it means that I ate the paper with the word ‘innocent.’ So we’ll be saved! Now I’d like Barthelemy to come up and read the verdict of your game of truth.”

  The knight approached and took the remaining paper out of the helmet. At the top of his lungs, he shouted, “Guilty.”

  Amos spoke again. “This proves that I ate the paper with the word ‘innocent’ written on it—unless, of course, your helmet contained two pieces of paper with the word ‘guilty.’ But I don’t think that the leader of the Knights of Light is a cheater. Therefore the truth has just been declared.”