Alahim decided to head for the bridge. He hoped that there was a guard there who could help them. Lily was screaming her lungs out behind him and Uvit was weaving back and forth to evade the man’s grip. Fortunately, he was not particularly coordinated, or Alahim was sure that they would have been caught.
Panting, he crested the rise and looked out over the bridge for help.
The guard tower was empty.
He grabbed a lose rock and threw it at their pursuer. The rock gave a thud as it hit against his shoulder, causing him to stagger.
Lily and Uvit came to the top of the bridge and tore after Alahim. They ran to the middle, and waves of relief flooded over Alahim as he saw an adult in the middle of the bridge. The man saw their plight and beckoned them to come to him.
The adult took off to the other side and the three children were fast after him. Their pursuer was less sure-footed on the narrow bridge and was loosing ground.
As soon as they made it to the other side, a fierce gust of wind came up, sending the assailant flying over the edge. Lily gasped as the man flew over the side, barely catching hold of the guardrail. He tried to pull himself up, even as the wind intensified. He was too weak to fight against the combined force of gravity and the wind. One by one, his fingers slipped off the metal bar, and his scream was soon extinguished by a splash as the river below carried him away.
The three children breathed a sigh of relief and turned to thank the man for his offer of help. As Alahim took a good look at him for the first time, he saw that the man looked oddly translucent in the afternoon sun.
“Hello,” he simply said. “My name is Tivu.”
***********************
“You did what?!!” Tarthur bellowed. “I told two children to stay here in the safety of the inn, and I return to find THREE children who look like they’ve been chased halfway across the city!” He did not seem to note that they had indeed been chased across a considerable fraction of Walis.
They were all assembled in one of the upper rooms. Emotions mixed and tumbled out into a horrendous tangle that left no one really knowing how to feel. Yvonne and Valena’s guilt at letting the children out of their sight was supplanted by their relief at knowing that they were safe. The party that had been out scouring the city was frustrated after nearly a week of not finding anything. They were relieved that their search was now over, but regretted not being able to question Tivu directly. The children were infuriated that the adults kept treating them like children, and wouldn’t acknowledge the contribution that they had made to the quest. The twinge of guilt they felt at disobeying their parents was obliterated as the parents flung accusations at them right and left. Even Fientien felt two, though not necessarily conflicting, feelings. He was sick to his stomach both from letting the children out of his direct supervision and from the aftereffects of the house special.
“Alahim knew what to do and where to go,” Lily said, giving Alahim a good deal more credit than he seemed to want to claim. “If we’re going to trust him to walk through this Wall, then we’ve got to start trusting him here too.”
“Age is not the only determinant of wisdom,” Uvit pronounced sagely.
“I don’t even know who you are!” Tarthur exploded. “Will someone tell me what he is doing here? I thought I explained that secrecy was paramount.”
“Well,” Lily responded for Alahim. “We remembered the pact we made at the council, so we haven’t explained anything we discussed there. But Tivu talked to all of us. We couldn’t very well leave him alone on the streets after he knew what Tivu said, so we had to bring him with us.”
Tarthur was checked as he realized the sense in Lily’s statement. He didn’t know why he couldn’t admit it, but the children had done very well. Perhaps it was the idea of his son being in danger after he had thought him safe for a time. Tarthur knew that Alahim would be in danger at the Wall of Glass, but Tarthur thought to keep him protected as long as he could…the decision to allow him to try for the Wall began to tear at his soul again….
“Although your decisions have been rash,” Zelin reprimanded, speaking to Alahim, “we have been fortunate. I only wish that I had been allowed to speak to the Shade of Tivu myself. He may be hiding something from us, and I fear that he will sacrifice all of our lives if he must.”
The room fell silent. Everyone had said all they cared to say. Somehow they sensed that their collective consciousness had been forged into an agreed upon course of action.
“Tivu says we must meet him outside Laia. We have no other choice.” Zelin looked around and his eyes were hard as flint. “We leave at first light.”
***********************
The moon was high in the sky, nearly to its midpoint. Her body swayed forward and back with the wind. She was oddly conscious of how the breeze felt good against her face. It was just one of the many experiences that she had begun to notice in the last few days. How many still lay hidden?
She could see him there, patiently waiting at the fork of the river. Her body hung limp in the crook of the tree branches where she hid, but the tension inside her had reached a frenzied pitch. She knew that she had to reach out and visit her master, yet at the same time she knew that she could not, without knowing why. She knew he would take away the feeling of the breeze against her cheek. He would take away the feeling of the grass poking through her toes. She had no idea why these small feelings were important, why they were worth betraying the one who had protected her for as long as she could remember.
The smaller part of her consciousness held the larger in check. The larger part surged forward. She did not have to call out to him. She needed only to form one thought into a word, and he would call out to her. Yet, every time she tried, the thought was snuffed out before it coalesced into something he could sense.
She had no idea how long the torment continued. She could feel his malevolence and impatience increasing through the night until they reached a tumultuous climax in the early dawn. She felt him calling out to her, but knew that she had to do everything to resist. Somehow, she managed to cling to the branch, avoiding him throughout the entire night.
Once the sun had risen fully into the sky Corizaz could tarry no longer. He swept his robes about his body and stormed off to the south.
Only many hours later did she dare to relax her white-knuckled grip on the branch supporting her. She fell to the earth and lay there until the world stopped spinning.
***********************
The trek to Laia was quick and uneventful, although all could feel the tension. They stopped out of sight of the village to discuss how to proceed.
“Are you sure he didn’t say anything else?” Tarthur asked for what must have been the thousandth time.
“No,” Alahim replied for what felt like the thousand and first time. “Tivu just said that the time was almost here and to wait for him at Laia.”
“I’m sorry,” Tarthur said, “it’s not that I don’t trust you…it’s just…”
“He’ll be alright, Tarthur. We won’t let anything happen to Alahim.” Derlin came up and placed a hand on Tarthur’s shoulder. Derlin had always been optimistic, but ever since he married Valena, it was like nothing could get him down. Tarthur was glad for Derlin’s reassurance. He never doubted his friend’s intentions, only his ability to follow through on them. If Dalin couldn’t do anything to help Kitrina, what were they going to do to help Alahim?
“The part that worried me,” Derlin continued, “is that he told us to wait for him. I would imagine that he can travel faster than us. Where is he going with this extra time? Why didn’t he simply want us to meet at the Vale?”
“He can travel quickly,” Zelin answered. “But I do not know what he plans to do. Perhaps he only meant for us to meet him here.”
“ We are basing too much on the recollections of children,” Fientien grunted.
“That’s all we have!” Tarthur stood up and stomped his foot. “I wish we could have talked to him.”
“It will all happen in good time,” Zelin reminded. “It is time to enter Laia, but not for all of us. Tarthur, you, Derlin, Fientien will enter with Alahim. Do not take your eyes off him for a second. The city is small, so report back here by nightfall.”
Tarthur looked like he was about to argue with Zelin about taking the dwarf, but thought better of it. Although Tarthur wouldn’t say that he liked Fientien, he had at least gained respect for the dwarf during their travels. “What about the rest of you?” Tarthur asked.
Zelin looked around at the rest of the companions. “Garseon will scout out the area and see if anything can be found. As for the others, we rest, and we wait.”
Tarthur raised himself up on tiptoe and peered over a fence. The alleyway was clear. In fact, the whole town seemed to be oddly quiet. He hopped the fence and then Derlin helped Alahim scramble over. From the other side he heard Derlin ask Fientien if he needed a boost. The dwarf just grunted and swung himself over with surprising agility. Derlin followed, and they walked along the alley, hugging the rough brick walls of the houses.
They walked out into one of the larger streets. A healthy crowd of people was milling about so Tarthur fell in and followed the general direction that they seemed to be going. Ducking back into the alley would have seemed suspicious, and the crowd could hide them well. No sooner had they rounded a corner when someone in front of them gave a loud cry of praise.
“Make way, make way!” A tall stretched man with an overly rounded belly called out. “Make way, I tell you! There are heroes in our midst!” Tarthur cursed his recognizable face.
“Yes,” continued the man, “we are truly blessed. For today, we remember those two heroes who traveled alone into the realm of mighty Darhyn, and dealt the fiend a mortal blow! They spat into his eye, and together tore the very fabric of his being into two. Yes, my friends, these two rent asunder the threat to our very lives. And today, we honor them.”
The man took a bow and the crowd clapped. Tarthur sighed. The admiration was nice, but they didn’t really get the story right. Their cover so obviously blown, Tarthur took a step forward to quiet the man, but he continued speaking.
“The identities of these heroes are no secret, for their names are on the lips of every mother when she speaks of what her son might become. They are on the lips of every father when he speaks of who his daughter might marry. And so, let me present to you, Arthur and Merlin.”
Tarthur chuckled. At least the names sounded close. He took another step forward to correct the caller, but he was stopped by a hairy arm that swung into his chest. “Show some respect!” the man who was the owner of the arm bellowed. “He said to make way for the heroes!” Tarthur was about to protest to the dullard that he was the hero when his words fell from his lips and back down into his throat.
A litter was coming down the pathway. Inside he saw two men being waited on by several scantily clad young women. The litter stopped and the men got out and proceeded to what Tarthur could only assume was a stage fashioned for this festival.
“Greetings,” one man stepped forward and held out his hands. The crowd hushed so completely that Tarthur could almost hear Derlin’s confusion. “Merlin and I welcome you to this festival commemorating the anniversary of our defeat of the death lord.”
The man couldn’t have been much more than twenty, which would have made him barely born during the War of the Orb. Now was their chance to escape and search the town, but his curiosity was piqued, and Tarthur wanted to see how things turned out.
“We rejoice that the town is well,” Merlin said. “You cannot imagine the relief I feel, for I am tormented by visions of what would have happened to beautiful Laia if Arthur and I had failed in our quest. Fires—burning not in your hearths but your fields; water—not in the wells of your fathers but the lungs of your children; and meat—not roasting on a spit over the fire but rotting in the sun.”
“Yet fail we did not,” Arthur cut in. “And never will we fail you, brave people of Laia. Though monsters frighten your sheep, though a green giant should attack your house, though the death lord himself railed against your gates, we would stand firm.”
They went on talking loudly about how brave and powerful they were, and it almost made Tarthur sick. From their first words, Tarthur knew that they had never set foot inside Castle Rathskellar. No one who had fought in that last terrible battle wanted to talk about it. Tarthur turned to Fientien and Derlin and whispered his idea. The two chuckled and then moved quickly away.
The ceremony wasn’t over yet, but Tarthur had had enough. “Oh heroes, I am so glad to find you!” he yelled as loudly as he could. The words were bile in his throat.
Arthur stopped speaking and turned to Tarthur. The crowd turned with him. “How may I serve you, kind sir?”
“Oh, I knew you would help us!” Tarthur had to bite the inside of his lip to keep speaking. “My family has been chased by a most vicious monster from the north. We ran here not knowing where else to turn to!”
“You brought the monster here?” Merlin gulped, and then recovered. “You should have lured it out to the plains, so that you didn’t endanger these townsfolk! Lure it away, and we will meet it in battle outside of town!”
“Nonsense!” cried one of the town elders. “You will save us!”
“Hurry!” Tarthur called with a half-smile. “It’s a Chomonster, so you must have met many on your travels to the north. You’ll know what to do.”
He waved over his shoulder and Arthur and Merlin were pushed on by the crowd until they were close by Tarthur.
“About this Chomonster,” Arthur said, taking short steps. “We’ve faced down hundreds, but each one was a little different. What can you tell us about this particular Chomonster.”
“He’s the meanest one I’ve ever seen,” Tarthur responded, widening his eyes in wonder at the retelling. “Just imagine the meanest, orneriest, milk-cow you can think of. Then, imagine that her horns are ten feet long and sharp as razors, all the way down. Put fire in her eyes and poison in her nostrils. Now, have you got this picture in your head?”
Arthur gulped and nodded.
“Good,” Tarthur said. “That’s the creature that our Chomonster ate the first time I laid eyes on him.”
The crowd was pressing in on them eagerly, pushing them inexorably forward. Soon they had arrived at a nearby barn and Tarthur held up his hands for quiet.
“The creature is trapped inside,” he called out to the assembled townsfolk. “Brave heroes, lead on!”
He opened the door to reveal a gaping blackness within.
“Why don’t we just burn the barn?” Merlin suggested. “I will set fire to it by my powerful magic.”
“Nonsense!” The cry came from one of the townsmen, and by the urgency of it, Tarthur guessed that he was the barn’s owner. “You can do it!”
“I will follow you!” Tarthur called out valiantly, grabbing one handful of each man’s cloak and shoving them into the darkness. He turned and shut the door behind them.
Shadows played on the sides of the barn.
“Where is it?” Tarthur cried in a mock-worried tone. “I swear I left it right here.” “G…guess it was scared of us.” Arthur stammered.
“Shhh…” Tarthur put a finger to his lips. “Don’t…move…a…muscle.” He strained to put the perfect intonation in each word. “I…can…smell…it’s…rancid…feces. It…is…close.” He glanced at Arthur and thought he saw a spot on his trousers grow darker than the surrounding areas.
“There!” Tarthur shouted and whipped around his sword as a cloaked and hooded figure leapt from the bales of hay above and pounced down in front of the trio.
“Ahhh! Monster!” screamed Arthur and Merlin in unison.
“Relax,” Tarthur chuckled and threw off the cloak covering Fientien’s figure. “It’s just a dwarf.”
“Ahhh! Dwarf!” they screamed again.
Fientien’s face wore a scowl but his eyes betrayed the slightest hint of
pleasure.
Tarthur whipped his sword down and leveled the point at Arthur’s throat. “You did not defeat Darhyn.” Tarthur said.
“You can’t prove…” Arthur started to speak but Tarthur cut him off.
“Because I did.” Tarthur’s eyes narrowed into a hard look. “And thousands of other honest people did as well, many of whom died doing so.”
Arthur and Merlin stared at him blankly.
“Who are you?” Arthur said. His voice had lost all of the bravado it had possessed on the platform.
“I am Tarthur,” Tarthur said, withdrawing his sword.
“And I am Derlin,” Derlin finished.
“We’re so sorry,” Arthur explained apologetically, “we meant nobody any harm by it.”
“You see,” Merlin said. “We heard about your legend, like everybody else. And we figured that since our names are so close, people might believe that it was really us.”
“How did anyone believe you?” Tarthur questioned. “You’re much too young to even remember the War of the Orb.”
Merlin blushed. “They say I brew a mean anti-aging potion. We didn’t even think of that one at first. Our legend just starting growing more and more out of hand, until I was even starting to believe it.”
“You’re a legend in your own mind.” Fientien chortled.
“We have grown accustomed to this lifestyle,” Arthur lamented, ignoring the dwarf. “You wouldn’t believe how much being a hero helps with the ladies…. Or, maybe you would,” he hastily added as Tarthur clenched his jaw. “You probably know better than us, since you are a real hero.”
Merlin smiled and nodded. Derlin had to snap his fingers to bring him back.
“Everyone there was a real hero,” Tarthur retorted. “You dishonor their memory.”
Arthur and Merlin hung their heads in shame.
Lands of Daranor: Book 02 - ProphecyQuest Page 16
