by MJ Schutte
It was a solid structure built from large rocks and thick wood. The single, heavy gate stood open. Scores of people traveled in both directions. According to the information Al’taish had gathered, there was a city called Weston no more than half a day’s travel from the wall. This was supposedly the city where the royal family lived.
Al’taish had decided to visit the palace and a few taverns in Weston but something about this wall caught his interest. He stepped closer and placed his hand on the wood. He ran his hand over the smooth wood and rocks. Somehow, very faintly, it felt like the wall was alive.
‘What are you doing?’ a guard asked as he stepped closer.
‘I am admiring the strength of the wall,’ Al’taish smiled.
He concentrated on the man’s mind for a moment.
‘This wall has stood for many years and has only once been breached,’ the soldier said.
‘Breached? When?’ Al’taish asked.
‘Many years ago, in the time of Queen Ashley, first queen of Mendin. It was the last great war in the Kingdom,’ came the reply.
‘What happened?’ Al’taish prodded.
‘I don’t know the history well, but from what I’ve heard, an army outnumbering the Mendin soldiers fifty to one came from a faraway land. They laid siege to the great wall and one day managed to take control of it. The brave Mendin soldiers fought like demons, according to legend, and drove the enemy back. After that, the legendary General Donic negotiated peace with the enemy. It is rumored that the enemy soldiers lost their courage after seeing how bravely the Mendin soldiers fought,’ the soldier replied.
‘Has there never been another war?’ Al’taish asked.
‘No. Since the Great War, peace and prosperity has reigned in the Kingdom of Mendin. Did you know that there were actually four kingdoms but that queen Ashley united them under a single rule?’ the guard asked.
He continued talking about the history of Mendin and how Weston was built, but Al’taish only half listened. He had heard the history a number of times and was not interested in another version. Al’taish tried speak, but the man was so engrossed in his own ramblings, he did not afford Al’taish the slightest opportunity to interrupt him.
‘…Zedonia is now inhabited only by monks and priests. They are the keepers of history.’
‘Zedonia?’ Al’taish frowned when the man finally had to stop for a breath.
‘Yes, Zedonia. It was the largest city in Mendin and also the home of the previous royal family before Weston was built,’ the guard answered.
‘And there are priests who keep history records?’ Al’taish asked.
The guard nodded and said, ‘The only other people left in Zedonia are the ones who believe there was once a palace under the hill in the middle of Zedonia where the previous royal family lived. As far as I know they are digging into the hill to recover some sort of magical bracelet. Some say that the bracelet has been found, some say it does not even exist. What I do know is that they have found pieces of broken furniture, pots and pans, and a few other artifacts beneath the hill.’
The guard dropped his voice almost to a whisper and said, ‘Some even say that the magical cane, or sword, is buried there.’
‘Magical cane? Sword?’ Al’taish frowned. Although he knew about the cane and the sword, he needed to gather more information. He acted like this was the first he has ever heard of it.
‘Yes, magical,’ the guard replied in a hushed voice.
‘But is it a cane or a sword?’ Al’taish asked.
‘I’m not certain. I’ve heard stories about a cane with magical powers while there are also legends about it being a sword. Personally, I think it’s a sword. A cane would not make a good weapon,’ the guard replied.
Al’taish smiled at the guard’s typical military style of thinking.
The man rambled on for a while longer until another soldier approached them.
‘Why are you not at your post?’ the newcomer growled at the guard from behind.
The guard instantly straightened his back, slammed his arms to his sides and said, ‘I’m sorry, sir. I will return at once!’
Without waiting for an answer, the guard returned to his post next to the open gate.
‘Move along, nothing to see here,’ the newcomer snapped at Al’taish. Without giving Al’taish another glance he casually strolled towards the gate, barking orders at the guards on top of the wall.
Al’taish mounted the horse. He had already decided his next destination will be Zedonia to seek out the keepers of Mendin’s history.
Chapter 2
Zedonia was almost completely deserted. On the outskirts, Al’taish noticed a few small farms with only a handful of people tending the crops and live stock. In the city most of the houses were empty or in ruins. Al’taish rode slowly through the streets, trying to find someone to talk to. It seemed that only spirits now inhabited the old buildings.
Eventually he reached what looked like the town centre. At first glance it looked deserted, but Al’taish took a good look around. He noticed that the biggest building, marked above the door as the Town Hall, looked in much better shape than the other buildings. Walking closer, he thought he glimpsed movement through one window. He secured the horse’s reigns to a tree and approached the door. Before he could knock, the door swung open. A young man, probably no more that eighteen years of age, came walking out. Had Al’taish not sidestepped quickly, the young man, lost in the pages of the worn out book, would’ve collided with him.
Al’taish peered inside. A few people sat at tables heavily laden with books . Some were reading, others were writing and a few looked to be in deep conversation with one another. The man at the table closest to the door looked up and saw Al’taish. He jumped up so fast that he knocked the table over, spilling books everywhere. He ran to the back of the hall where he frantically whispered to an elderly lady. She got up and shuffled towards the door.
She was hunched over and as she got closer, Al’taish noticed that her face was covered in wrinkles. Her shoulder length hair was completely white and very thin.
When she spoke, it was in a soft, melodic voice that did not fit her physical appearance at all.
‘Good day, sir. How may I help you?’ she enquired with a smile. She casually placed one hand against the door frame but it was clearly done in an attempt to steady her herself.
‘Good day to you. I am looking for the keepers of the history of Mendin,’ Al’taish returned her smile.
‘You are at the correct place. My name is Tabitha. I am in charge of the archives. What can I do for you?’ Tabitha replied.
‘I’m Al’taish. I am interested in learning more about Mendin’s history. May I have a look at the archives?’ Al’taish asked.
‘Do you have a letter from the king?’ Tabitha asked.
‘No, I do not. I was not aware that I needed such a letter,’ Al’taish responded.
‘Then, sadly, I can not let you in,’ Tabitha said with a shake of the head.
Al’taish concentrated on her mind for a moment.
‘Are you sure I can’t have a quick look? I am a scholar of history and have traveled far to be here,’ he said.
Tabitha smiled at the young man and said, ‘I’m sorry, but rules are rules. Without a letter from the king with the royal seal on it, I am not allowed to let you in.’
Al’taish concentrated on Tabitha’s mind again, but the old woman simply smiled at him.
Al’taish sighed and said, ‘I understand. It’s just so sad that I have traveled for so long to be here to find out it was all in vain.’
Tabitha continued smiling at Al’taish but did not offer to let him in. He decided on a different tactic.
‘Tabitha, since I am not allowed to look at the archives, would it be possible to ask you a few questions instead? As you are in charge here, I’m sure you must have considerable knowledge of Mendin’s history,’ he asked.
Tabitha thought for a moment.
‘I have not
been in the sun for many days. Perhaps I can take a walk with you,’ she suggested.
‘That would be wonderful, thank you!’ Al’taish exclaimed.
He stepped back to give Tabitha some space, but as he saw her gingerly letting go of the door frame, he stepped forward again and offered his arm. Tabitha looked up at him with a surprised smile. For a moment she did not look as old anymore. Al’taish could see that she must have been ravishingly beautiful as a young woman, but that old age and a hard life had robbed her of her beauty. Through her smile it was evident that her inner beauty had survived.
‘Such a gentleman,’ she commented as she placed a hand on his arm.
Slowly they walked, Tabitha leaning on Al’taish’s arm for support.
‘So, what did you want to talk about, young man?’ she asked.
‘I’ve heard some tales about a wizard who carried a magical cane or sword. I was wondering if you knew anything about this,’ Al’taish asked carefully.
Tabitha let out a soft, feminine giggle.
‘Young man, if I had a bronze coin for every time someone came here asking about the legend of the wizard, I’d be a rich woman! It is a bedtime story. There was never a wizard and the magical cane simply does not exist,’ she answered.
‘My information suggests otherwise,’ Al’taish persisted.
‘I have seen many people come here with what they believed to be proof that the wizard existed, and still lives. People have brought canes, swords, knives and even bows claiming that it once belonged to the wizard and that these items contained magical properties. Apparently, if you pushed the magical item against a tree or into the ground, you could regain your youth and live forever.’
‘And, is it true?’ Al’taish gasped.
‘My dear, if it was true, do you think I would be all wrinkled up and hunched over like this? No, none of it is true, or else I would have been beautiful once more, trying to seduce a good looking young man like yourself instead of leaning on your arm for support,’ Tabitha smiled.
Al’taish dropped his eyes self-consciously. He was not accustomed to female attention, even if it was from a lady old enough to be his grandmother.
‘What about the people excavating that hill?’ he asked, pointing towards the middle of the city.
‘A bunch of madmen led by a lunatic!’ Tabitha spat.
Al’taish gave her a quizzical look.
‘They think there are all kinds of magical objects under the ground, like the fabled bracelet that sucks the life out of anybody who wears it. Christopher, a former historian here at the archives, believes this nonsense after reading some unconfirmed tales about a group of people called the Supremes who lived in the caves under the hill. Apparently these people had the magical ability to steal other people’s life force from their bodies thereby staying young and ruling for more than three thousand years! Christopher preached this as gospel and soon had some followers. They are excavating the hill believing that they would find the remains of the Supremes, the magical bracelet and a whole lot of other things. It’s a shame, really. Christopher was a brilliant historian,’ Tabitha explained.
‘I take it you don’t believe in any of it,’ Al’taish smiled.
The old woman shook her head.
‘Every bit of history in these archives is verified a number of times before we will accept it. There are far too many versions of the stories Christopher have read, as with the legend of the wizard, to believe that it is the truth. If you are searching for something magical, this is not the place for you, young man,’ Tabitha smiled.
‘I see. Well, thank you for your time, Tabitha. Perhaps I will go to Weston and petition the king for permission to enter the archives,’ Al’taish said, disappointment settling over his mind.
‘You are most welcome. I’m sorry I could not be of more help, but I am but a servant of the crown and have to abide by the rules,’ Tabitha shrugged.
They walked in silence back to the town hall. As they reached the door, Tabitha turned to Al’taish and said, ‘There is something I’m sure might be of interest to you. In Fenton, there is a monastery. On the inside walls there are drawings. Go have a look at those drawings and maybe one day, when you come visit me again, you can tell me what you think,’ she said.
She gave Al’taish instructions on where to find the monastery in Fenton, then turned to go inside.
‘Drawings of what?’ Al’taish asked.
‘Go look,’ was all Tabitha said as she closed the door behind her.
Al’taish sighed heavily. The disappointment of yet again not finding any new information about the wizard was starting to wear him down. He mounted the horse and set off towards Weston.
Later that evening, as Al’taish was busy preparing the food he had managed to steal from one of the small farms, a conversation he had with Father before he embarked on this quest replayed in his mind. Father had told him that he was selected for this quest not only for his special talent but also because he exhibited great tenacity and patience. Father said that his best ally on this quest would be the patience to follow up on every small bit of information he gained, no matter if he ended up with no reward in the end. Eventually, he will discover something of true worth and his patience would be rewarded.
Al’taish stared into the small fire for a long time before unrolling a small blanket. As sleep took control of his mind, he decided to go look at the drawings in Fenton that Tabitha had spoken of.
Al’taish traveled fast to Fenton. Just like on the trip to Zedonia, he skirted the northern edge of Weston, not going into the city itself. He did not stop at the wall again, but as he passed through the gate he got the same feeling as before, as if the wall was alive somehow. It did not take him long to reach Fenton. Finding the monastery was also quite easy as Tabitha had given him detailed directions.
He stood in front of the old building, looking at the ancient architecture. Al’taish could only see a few people sitting in the garden. All of them wore simple brown pants and brown shirts, even the women. One man got up and approached him, hands clasped behind his back.
‘Can I help you, child?’ he asked.
‘I would like to see the drawings inside the monastery, if that is possible,’ Al’taish replied politely.
‘Certainly. Enter through the front door, turn to your left and you will see the first one. Move to your right to see the rest. Remember to take your shoes off before entering. No weapons are allowed inside,’ the man replied.
‘I am unarmed,’ Al’taish smiled. He knew that, even if he was searched, nobody would find his blades.
He walked to the door, took his shoes off and entered.
Turning left immediately, like the man instructed, he walked to the wall. The inside of the building was bathed in a soft light coming from a few chandeliers and smelled musky and damp.
Al’taish stopped in front of the wall and looked at the drawing of a woman. Beneath the drawing the name Robyn was written. It was not a particularly interesting drawing so Al’taish moved to the next one. It too was a drawing of a woman with the name Robyn and this one had a number written underneath.
Al’taish frowned and moved on. The third drawing was the same, as was the fourth and fifth.
Al’taish looked around. He saw a man sitting on a bench not too far away, reading a book.
‘Pardon the intrusion, but can you tell me why all these drawings are the same?’ Al’taish asked.
The man immediately put his fingers to his lips and said, ‘Shh.’
Al'taish lifted his hand briefly in an apology.
The man got up slowly and walked to Al’taish.
In a hushed tone he said, ‘Have you looked at all the drawings?’
‘No, only the first few,’ Al’taish whispered.
‘Then how can you say they are all the same?’ the man frowned. He returned to his seat and opened his book once more.
Al’taish returned to the first drawing. He studied it in more detail, then moved on to the ne
xt, studying it closely too. He continued doing this until he got to the eighth drawing. He could clearly see that every drawing was done by a different artist, but that they were all of the same woman.
‘So, someone drew a picture of Robyn and then other people duplicated it. Nothing interesting about it,’ he muttered to himself, feeling slightly angry at Tabitha for sending him on a wild goose chase.
‘Not entirely true,’ a hushed voice said from behind.
Al’taish spun around and brought his arms up in a defensive way.
It was the man he had spoken to earlier standing quite close to him.
‘What do you mean?’ Al’taish asked, but the man immediately brought his finger to his lips again and said, ‘Shh.’
He returned to his seat and opened the book.
Al’taish, frowning at the strangeness of it all, decided to leave. As he turned to go, he heard Father’s voice in his mind.
Patience is your best ally.
‘Well, I am here now,’ he muttered, turning back to the drawings. He believed that every drawing was simply a copy of the one to its left until he came across one that was different.
In all the drawings he had seen, the woman’s head was angled slightly to the right, but in the one he stood staring at, her head was turned to the left.
‘Clever artist,’ he whispered, thinking that the person who painted it was simply very talented in making a mirror image of the previous drawing. He looked closer and noticed a small difference. On the woman’s right cheek, just below her eye, was a small imperfection on her skin. At first Al’taish thought it was simply a mistake made by the artist, but as he studied the next few drawings, he came across another one where her head was angled to the left. The same imperfection on her skin was clearly visible in this drawing too. Al’taish continued looking at the drawings and found seven more similar to that one. In every single one, he noticed the same mark on the woman’s right cheek. For a moment, he thought he had seen the same mark on someone else’s face, but could not quite remember where.
