by Bryan Perro
“Who are you and why did you come to my aid?” he then asked her.
“You would not be able to pronounce my real name,” answered the gorgon. “Call me Medusa. That is the name humans often give us. It’s a name inherited from Princess Medusa, who was transformed into a hideous woman by a nasty goddess. Many legends exist on the subject of gorgons, but no one really knows the origin of my species. I know that your name is Beorf. It is said that you can morph into a bear. Is that true?”
Flattered that this beautiful young gorgon knew his name, Beorf changed into a bear on the spot.
“True,” he said, standing proud and hairy from head to foot.
“Hide your eyes,” Medusa said. “I’d like to look at you.”
Beorf put a paw over his snout.
Pulling her hood back and uncovering her eyes, Medusa exclaimed, “How magnificent a bear is! I’ve never seen such an animal. You know, there are only gorgons and snakes where I come from. There are also many stone statues,” she added, laughing her enchanting giggle. “To answer your question, I helped you because I too need help. Karmakas is a wicked sorcerer. He controls my kind through his magic, and forced us to come to this realm to do his bidding. If we defy his orders, he tells our snake-hairs to bite our shoulders and backs. It hurts so much that we cry out in pain loud enough to make mountains shake.”
She pulled her hood back over her eyes and told Beorf it was safe to look at her.
“We are nocturnal creatures and cannot bear the sun easily,” she went on. “This does not mean that we are nasty and cruel. It’s true that our power transforms all living creatures that we come across into statues. To avoid such misfortune, my people live in hiding in the arid hills of the east desert. It’s the gorgons themselves who sent me to free you.
“I beg you to believe me. We don’t want to harm anyone and we know how to bring back to life the stone statues that we create. It’s a little complicated, but it can be done. We don’t want to wage battle any longer; we only wish to go home and live in peace. But we are unable to fight Karmakas. Our power does not work on him, so we remain his prisoners. The gorgons are his slaves. We must serve him or suffer horrible pain. Look at the skin on my shoulders and you’ll understand what I mean.”
Medusa pulled down a sleeve of her dress, exposing her shoulder. It was covered with open wounds and scars.
“You see!” she said. “It’s difficult for me to believe that my own hair can do this to me.”
“Why don’t you cut off those nasty beasts, then?”
“Would you cut off your arm or your leg even if it hurt you?” she answered, a little upset. “My hair is a part of me. I love it very much. Each of the golden snakes that you see contains a part of my life. To cut them off would be my death. They’re my only friends and my solace. I’ve known them since I was little, and each one has a name. I feed them and take good care of them.”
“May I ask you something?” Beorf asked very politely.
“You may ask whatever you want,” Medusa answered.
“I’d love to see your eyes, your entire face.”
The gorgon giggled again. “You don’t seem to listen to what I tell you, young bear. It’s impossible—you’d be instantly turned to stone!”
“I know that it’s possible to look at the reflection of a gorgon in a mirror,” declared Beorf rather proudly. “I know because I’ve done it by accident. I have a mirror here and—”
When she heard these words, Medusa panicked. “You have a mirror? A mirror! Did you bring me here to kill me? I knew I was wrong to believe in you! I always said to my fellow gorgons that we had to be wary of what looked human. You’re vicious and you always wish to kill whatever does not look like you! If you want to kill me, do it now, but stop torturing me by mentioning a mirror!”
Beorf rushed to the mirror that he had noticed a moment earlier among the provisions of food and smashed it on the floor of the cavern. He stomped on it to break it further into pieces.
“There! No more mirror! No more danger! Calm down, please, calm down. I didn’t mean to offend or threaten you. I wanted to see your eyes because you are very beautiful. That’s all! I swear!”
Medusa calmed down. Beorf saw drops of perspiration running down his friend’s neck.
“Always remember, Beorf, that my kind are scared to death of mirrors. A gorgon must never see her reflection in a mirror. She dies immediately, ripped apart completely from the inside, and then she crumbles to dust. It’s the worst death that we can imagine. I’d rather cut the snakes off my head one by one than stay in a place where there is a mirror.”
Beorf laughed uneasily. “That’s fine! I never liked girls who spent their time combing their hair in front of mirrors.”
After a moment of silence, and feeling even more ill at ease, he asked, “But tell me, Medusa, there’s something I don’t understand. I’ve seen gorgons in the forest and … how do I say this? Well, they weren’t very pleasant to look at, but you …”
The young gorgon started to laugh again. “I see what you mean. When we turn nineteen and a half—the exact age that Medusa was when she was struck by Ceto’s curse—our face and body change. We become ugly, just as Medusa did. Some of us escape this curse, but I don’t know why. None of the lucky ones has revealed her secret.”
“Maybe you’ll discover it before you reach that age,” Beorf said.
Medusa remained pensive a moment. “You’re very sweet, Beorf, do you know that?”
Beorf smiled. “Yes, I know,” he said, a little flushed.
—13—
THE RETURN TO BERRION
During the feast that the fairies organized for him, Amos ate a lot of dishes he had never tasted before. He drank the nectar of daffodils, daisies, and lilies. He also attended a concert given in his honor, where the tunes he heard were surreal, infinitely pure and delicate. It’s not surprising that Junos was bewitched, he thought as he remembered his friend’s adventure in the forest. Amos went to sleep on the grass as he listened to the celestial music.
In the morning of a new day, the fairies brought him a large glass filled with dew and a piece of cake made of rose petals. Amos then left the forest wearing his mask in which the white stone was set, his ivory trident slung across his shoulder. He took the long path that led in and out of the woods of Tarkasis. When he reached the edge of the forest, he was surprised to see several posted signs that said BY ROYAL EDICT, THIS FOREST IS FORBIDDEN TO TRESPASSERS. Astonished, he reached the road and observed that it was now paved.
“These things cannot happen in one night!” Amos said to himself.
His surprise was even greater when he arrived at the outskirts of Berrion. The town had grown three times larger. Imposing walls had been erected all around it. A flag was flying over the roof of a newly built castle. A moon and a sun that shared the same circle were displayed on the standard. At the city gate, a guard stopped Amos.
“By royal decree, all children who wish to enter must give their names!” the guard said.
Amos was truly bewildered. The last time he had been here, there had been no army. And certainly no knights dressed in magnificent armor and equipped with long swords! How could things have changed so much in only one night? Then Amos remembered that Junos, who had been bewitched by the fairies, had danced for almost fifty years in the woods of Tarkasis. Yet Amos was still twelve years old, not an old man. So he had not been subjected to the same spell as Junos. He hadn’t changed, but the world around him had.
“My name is Amos Daragon,” he answered timidly.
“Repeat your name, young man,” the guard insisted.
“Amos … Amos Daragon.”
“If that is indeed your name, you must follow me immediately.”
Amos didn’t protest. He followed the guard into the city and up to the castle. Everything he saw around him—the houses, inns, shops, marketplace, streets, people—everything was different. The day before, he had left a village where the inhabitants had a h
ard time making a living. Today he was walking the streets of a large and fortified city where everyone seemed to enjoy a prosperous lifestyle. Amos was puzzled.
When they reached the castle, the guard took him to a vast room where a throne stood. Amos remained there alone for a while, then, suddenly, the large doors of the room opened. A middle-aged man ran toward him and lifted him from the ground.
“Amos! My friend! You’re back! How are you?” the man cried out. “I’ve been waiting for you a long time! This is a great day! It’s such a pleasure to see you again!”
Finally the man put him down. Amos could not believe it. It was Junos who stood in front of him! He was a good ten years younger than when he had last seen him, and he beamed with pleasure as he looked at his friend again.
“Excuse me, Junos,” Amos said. “But could you explain what’s going on? Yesterday you got your childhood back and now you’re older again. Did you see your parents? Did you find your dog? What is happening? You were a storyteller and now you’re a king? I don’t understand.”
Junos smiled. “Sit down on my throne and I’ll explain.”
Amos did as he was told. “But if you’re a king now, Junos,” he said, “it’s either because you can do nothing or you got used to doing any old thing!”
Junos’s laughter filled the large room. “My story! You remember it? It has been years since I told it. I’m not sure that I could even tell it anymore!”
“First, explain to me what’s going on, Junos, then I’ll refresh your memory. I heard your tale from your own mouth two days ago, and you looked like an old man then. Now you’re a man in the prime of your life.”
Junos caught his breath and began:
“I’ll do as I did in former times when I told stories to survive. I was older and uglier than I am today, but … Let me get started. Once upon a time, there was a young boy who ventured into the woods of Tarkasis to retrieve his dog. He danced with the fairies that lived there and he suddenly grew old. He spent twelve years telling stories to make enough money to eat; he met Amos Daragon, who became his friend, and thanks to him, he got his youth back. So far it’s a familiar story. You know the beginning but not the end.” He looked at Amos, who nodded. “What follows is better.
“So the boy, who had fifty years of life stolen from him, was young once more. He took a five-decade leap back! He found himself in the same forest, exactly one hour after his first encounter with the fairies. He found his dog and his parents. No one ever knew that he had lived so many years as a miserable old man. But while the young boy got his young body back, he kept his adult memory. Since Junos had a debt to repay his best friend, who in fact was not even born yet, he chose to become a knight and went to a nearby kingdom to learn the art of warfare. After many years of faithful service, the king asked Junos—now his best knight—what it was he wanted more than anything else. Junos requested and was granted the land of Berrion. He had a large city built there. He formed an army, created the order of the Knights of Equilibrium, and waited for the day he would greet his good friend Amos Daragon when he stepped out of the forest. He also had signs put up near the woods of Tarkasis so that anyone who ventured there would steer clear of the forest and let the fairies live in peace.”
“Amazing!” Amos exclaimed. “So you’ve been waiting fifty years for me to come out of the forest?”
“Yes, Amos. I’ve been waiting fifty years for you,” Junos, lord and master of Berrion, said. “You gave me back my youth. Thanks to you, I had a happy childhood and my parents died in my arms, proud of what I had become. Thanks to you, I found my beloved dog and spoiled it its whole life long. Thanks to you, I even had time to learn how to cook! With my mother’s recipe, I’m the best pancake maker in the realm. I still remember the council of the great fairies that I attended. I know about your mission and the task expected of you. I also remember that a very long time ago, at least for me, you told me that Bratel-la-Grande had fallen into the gorgons’ hands. I sent my men there and they confirmed this fact. I created the order of the Knights of Equilibrium to serve you and help you in your mission. An army of four hundred men awaits your orders, dear mask wearer!”
Amos was speechless. Everything was happening so fast.
“By the way,” Junos went on, tears in his eyes, “I also asked my men to search all the lands of Berrion, and we found your parents. They’re in one of the rooms of the castle. Come, let us go see them!”
The reunion was very moving. Amos threw himself into his parents’ arms and they in turn jumped with joy. Urban explained to Amos how he and Frilla had barely had time to flee Bratel-la-Grande. Immediately after Amos and Beorf were banished, they had devised a plan. They packed their belongings and loaded them onto a horse. Since they knew where Barthelemy kept his armor, Urban slipped it on. At the door of the city, riding his mount proudly, he presented himself as a knight. Walking by the side of the horse, her hands tied behind her back, Frilla pretended to be a prisoner. Urban gave the order to open the gates of the city once more to expel the mother of one of the two boys banished earlier. The guard obeyed. As soon as the gates closed behind them, Frilla got rid of the rope and jumped on the horse, and she and Urban sped off into the night. That was how they had managed to escape before the gorgons’ attack.
In turn, Amos wanted to tell his parents his story, but Junos had already related to Urban and Frilla how he had met their son, and told them of their journey into the woods of Tarkasis.
That night, before going to bed in the room Junos had chosen for him, Amos tried on the mask again. He was alone, and the moment seemed propitious to test his new skill. For the first time, he noticed that the mask disappeared completely when it touched his skin. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Amos was surprised to realize that although he could feel the mask move over his face, it remained invisible to the human eye. Amos confirmed this when he opened the door of his room and asked a guard posted in the corridor to come inside and open a window that was stuck. The man obliged, oblivious to the mask Amos still wore.
Once the guard left, Amos grew dizzy. He was breathing as he had never done before. It was as if the air were entering every pore of his skin. He lifted his head and saw the Lady in White. She was now eight years old and was playing with the pillows on the bed.
“Do not worry,” she said casually. “The mask molds to your features. It will take a bit of time before it knows you. Right now it is probing you and soon it will be in touch with your mind. Then it will send a spark.”
As the Lady in White had warned, Amos suddenly felt as if a bolt of lightning were shooting through his body. He cried out. The pain in his head was so intense that he fell to his knees, paralyzed by the throbbing that kept getting worse. It felt like torture. After a few agonizing minutes, the pain disappeared and Amos was able to get to his feet again. The little girl in her white dress was jumping up and down on the bed now.
“That’s it! You’ll never be able to remove this mask from your face,” she told him. “The other masks, should you find them, will fit together over this one. The power of the wind is now in you! This force will return to the mask only when you die. Come, now!”
The Lady in White took Amos by the hand and led him toward the balcony. From there, they had a splendid view of the city of Berrion. Night had fallen. Torches and bonfires illuminated the nocturnal activities.
“Go ahead,” she said. “Raise the wind!”
Amos extended his left arm. A strong and steady breeze made the torches flicker over a large part of the city.
“Since you are now endowed with a great gift, I believe that you no longer need me,” the little girl in white said. “You’ll come to realize that you can also move a large quantity of air if you blow through your mouth. And your trident, or any other throwable weapon, will be able to cover very long distances. You’ll also be able to talk and have your words travel miles from where you are. Birds are now your friends. Don’t abuse their trust!”
The girl ran t
oward the bed, pulled up the blankets, slipped under the sheets, and instantly vanished. Once more, Amos had been unable to say a word.
Amos opened his eyes and sat up quickly. He was in bed. It was morning. He couldn’t feel the mask on his face. He looked around him. The mask had disappeared. He looked in the mirror: nothing on his face. He got up and approached a gray-tufted titmouse that was sunbathing on the balcony. The bird did not seem the least bit frightened. Amos extended his hand and asked softly if it would mind coming to rest on his arm. Right away the titmouse left the balcony railing and landed on his hand.
“It’s true, then,” Amos mused out loud. “All I went through last night is true. It wasn’t a dream. The mask has fit itself onto my face and I possess all its powers. And to think that only one of the four stones is set into it!”
A crow flew by. The bird nodded to Amos and continued on its way. Amos leaned on the rail of the balcony.
It’s difficult to imagine what my strength will be when the three other stones are there, he thought. And there are three other masks to find. I hope I’ll be able to gather them in my lifetime and accomplish what is expected of me.
In the small square below, children were trying in vain to fly a kite. Amos concentrated and lifted his left hand until the wind carried the kite high into the sky. The children shouted with joy. After a few minutes, the young mask wearer lost his concentration and the kite tumbled onto the nose of a passerby. Dizzy, Amos fell to the ground and the titmouse flew off.
The magic of the elements is exhausting, he thought. You need total and uninterrupted focus to sustain any effort. If what happened last night was not a dream, I must try one last thing this morning.
With both hands, Amos gathered air just as one collects snow. He made a transparent ball out of it, put it over his mouth, and whispered a message into it.
“Beorf, it’s Amos. I am well and I will come as soon as possible with an army of four hundred knights. Hold tight, my friend, I will soon be at your side.”
