The Exiled Monk

by James T Wood

  Silence fell on them again. Even as Peek sought some solace from the familiar sounds of the sea, he appreciated Adrocus being willing to stop speaking for a time. Cor would always try to fill the quiet spaces in their conversations instead of giving Peek time to think.

  “You should probably at least hear the songs we are supposed to cover today, just to get the tunes in your head,” Adrocus said. He pulled out a five-chambered flute like the one that Locambius used and began to play.

  The air shimmered about five feet in front of them. Then it sparked bright orange. The tiny flame grew as Adrocus increased the volume and speed of his song. The notes danced and jumped around, pulling at each other and daring the next one to do more. It grew into a ball of fire that spun and whirled in the air. When the song stopped it evaporated as if it had never existed.

  Adrocus played again, but this time the song sounded softer and more fluid. The notes dropped individually, but each was connected to the ones before and after. In front of them a cloud formed out of the clear morning air. It looked like fog in the tiniest area until it grew darker and started to pour rain onto the ground.

  The next song set the stones to dancing. The notes were rhythmic, pulsing, throbbing sounds, more of a heartbeat than a tune. The sand and stone leapt into the air and cavorted around with each other. Peek saw shapes and faces coalesce in the sand only to see the stones break through and scatter the grains apart again.

  Finally he played the soaring, floating notes of the wind-song. Peek recalled the tune from when Locambius plucked him out of the air and again from when the whistle-monks fought the raiders. He began to cry, but kept his silence and listened to the song. The breeze swirled around them, tugged at their clothes and tousled their hair like a mischievous sibling trying to start a game of tag.

  When the songs were over, silence returned. Peek let the tears flow. Here, with Adrocus, he didn’t feel the need to hide them. Vlek would ridicule and punish the weakness, but the monks didn’t seem to care. After a long time Adrocus got up. Peek moved to follow him, but he motioned for Peek to stay.

  “You are supposed to be busy with the chores all day. I’m your song-guide, so I’m giving you the rest of the day to yourself. You aren’t like any other person who has come to train with the monks. You need some time to figure things out. You’ve had a lot happen to you over the last few days. Sit here and listen. Come over to the bluffs at dinner time.”

  It was a long time before Peek moved. He kept thinking about the prophecy and the dead monks. Could he just leave now and make it all go away? Where would he go? Would it be better if he just paddled out to sea and died? Several times he came close to finding his canoe and escaping everything, including life. He decided, and undecided. First it was for the sake of Adrocus, then for Dray, and finally in the memory of the monks he had killed.

  “Can I join you?” The voice came from behind him and to the left. Peek knew who it was immediately and knew he had no choice. At least his secret might remain safe.

  “Hi Cor,” he didn’t even turn around as he greeted his uncle-brother.

  “Hi Peek,” Cor sat next to him on the boulder.

  “Does he…” Peek couldn’t finish the thought let alone the sentence.

  “No, I noticed you at dinner last night, but didn’t say anything,” Cor put a hand on Peek’s shoulder. It felt awkward and forced. He dropped it after a moment, “I’m glad you’re safe.”

  “Me too,” Peek realized after a moment that he hadn’t said what he meant to say, “I mean, I’m glad you’re safe too. I saw the smoke from the village and thought…”

  “I saw the smoke from the island and worried about you too.”

  “How did Vlek,” Peek nearly choked on the name, “how did he get to be chief?”

  “When chief Fenn and his son died in the raid, he just took the staff and started bossing people around. I guess they figured it was easier to just go along with him. There was no one left in Fenn’s family to object so it just happened.”

  Peek could tell from Cor’s tone that he didn’t want to know what had happened to Fenn and his boy. He sat in silence until Cor continued, “There isn’t enough food to last all of us the entire winter.”

  “What?”

  “The raiders took almost everything.”

  “Then what have we been eating?”

  “The last and the best of it. Vlek didn’t want anyone to know. He’s afraid it will show weakness.”

  “Why are you telling me that there’s not enough food?” Peek shifted uncomfortably on the stone.

  “You could get the monks to catch fish and gather nuts and berries from the forest.”

  “Why can’t the villagers do that stuff? They know how.”

  “Vlek has them so busy,” Cor shook his head, “they’re rebuilding huts and brewing more beer.”

  Peek snorted in disgust, “Of course they are. He wouldn’t want to run out.”

  “No,” the voice came from behind them, getting closer with each syllable, “I wouldn’t.

  Peek jumped up and spun around. Cor turned to see his father approaching.

  “Did you…” Peek couldn’t ask the question, couldn’t bear to have the betrayal confirmed.

  “No,” Cor shook his head vigorously, “he must have followed me.”

  Vlek stood a dozen paces away glaring at them, “Go home son.”

  “I…” Cor’s voice faded. Peek wondered if Vlek had taken to beating him in Peek’s absence. His shoulders slumped and his head dropped. He gave one look over his shoulder before getting up and walking away. The look tried to apologize. Peek didn’t see it. His eyes were fixed on Vlek even as Cor walked past him. The old, balding, bestubbled man gripped his son’s arm harshly and whispered a few words in his ear. Cor blanched and walked quickly away when Vlek released him.

  He waited for a few moments and then stalked closer to Peek. “You’re mine, bastard.” The smell of wine floated on the air between them.

  “No,” Peek fought to keep any quaver from his voice, “I’m not. I’m a monk in training.”

  Vlek laughed by blowing air through his nose while his mouth stayed in a hard, flat line, “They can think that, the villagers can think that, but you and I know the truth. You’re mine and you’ll do what I say, because if you don’t your monks are gone. They’ll starve to death before the winter’s half over.”

  “So will you,” Peek took a step forward to appear brave, but also to get closer to the fallen limb on the ground that he might use as a weapon if Vlek tried to hurt him again.

  “Maybe, but I’ll make sure little Dray is the first to go,” his smile was stained purple, “We might even eat her dead body so the rest of the village could survive. I’d tell them it was a wild boar that we happened to catch, of course, but they’d all eat and it would be your fault. Can you handle that?”

  Peek wanted to lash out. He wanted to end Vlek. He wanted to be free of this monster forever. But he couldn’t hurt the monks any more than he already had. He especially couldn’t risk Dray. One day he would find a way to escape Vlek, but it wasn’t today.

  “What do you want?” Peek asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “You’ll show the monks where to fish and hunt, where to gather nuts and roots and berries. They’ll get food for us so we won’t starve during the winter.”

  “Why can’t the villagers do all that?”

  “Because they don’t know that we’re almost out of food. They trust me to take care of them and that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Fine, I’ll get the monks to gather food,” Peek was happy to appease Vlek with such a simple request. With their magic it would be a little thing to gather food.

  Vlek grinned again, a cat’s grin as it toyed with a trapped mouse, “Good. I need something else.”

  “Now what?”

  “Don’t get testy with me, bastard. I’d be just as happy to see you die.”

  Peek didn’t doubt it. “What else?” he ask
ed.

  “You need to report to me what the monks are doing,” Vlek raised his hand quickly and chuckled as Peek flinched. He poked a bony finger into Peek’s chest for emphasis.

  “What do you mean?” Peek cursed himself for flinching and stood up a bit straighter, “They’re building a monastery and fortress. You know this.”

  “No, I want to know what else they’re planning,” he scoffed making Peek feel stupid and weak again, “I don’t think they’d just arrive here and offer free help. No one is that nice.”

  “They didn’t lie to you; they won’t lie to you. They need fighters to help when the raiders come and they’ll use their magic in support.”

  “If they have magic, then why do they need us?”

  “They won’t kill.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a part of their beliefs. They won’t kill anyone with their magic,” saying the words made Peek remember his own transgressions.

  “Then teach us the magic. We’ll kill the raiders.”

  “The magic is the core of everything they believe. They won’t teach it to anyone who doesn’t share their faith.”

  “What about you? Have you converted?”

  “I don’t know. I have a month to decide.”

  “What does that mean?” Vlek’s eyes narrowed and his lip curled into a half-sneer.

  “Exactly what I said,” Peek rallied his courage, “They have a month-long training period. If I don’t want to be a monk after that, I don’t have to.”

  “So much power wasted on the weak,” Vlek muttered and then continued, drilling his finger into Peek’s chest, “Get the food and report back to me what the monks are doing.” He didn’t even bother to hear Peek’s response, he just turned and walked back to the village.

  Peek stumbled back to the bluff where the outline of a stone wall was already on the ground. The monks were gathered around the cook fire and a pot of what smelled like stew bubbled over the flames. Peek wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if Locambius was sizing him up from across the circle. The old monk rose and blessed the meal and all the monks declared “Truth,” together. Peek was only a moment behind everyone else in speaking the word.

  Rudi clapped Peek on the back and said with a grin, “And how was your day, young sir? How did you find the chores of a monk?”

  “I learned that there is great wisdom in asking for help,” Peek thought it best to not expose Adrocus to criticism by the older monks.

  Rudi nodded and then looked over at Locambius. Locambius nodded in return and offered a wan smile. All Peek could think about was Vlek’s threats and how he could respond to them without endangering himself, the monks, or Dray.

  They passed the rest of the meal hearing Rudi boast about a masterpiece that he had heard on the wind and written down, only to have the sheets blow away. He told the story as if it were an epic tale of triumph and tragedy, but everyone laughed at the obvious comedy. At the conclusion, Rudi dropped his head in mock shame and resignation, which elicited roars of laughter from the monks and even a hearty chortle from Locambius, whom Peek watched throughout the story. After the laughter faded, Locambius rose for his evening homily.

  “A song is a living thing. It does not bow to our will, but rather it coexists with us. We learn it as it learns us and together we are wholly different. For if I play, though it is the same tune, the song is different than if Rudi were to play it. If Rudi plays, it is not the same as that which Gralt and Kalt make together. The music isn’t static but dynamic, and we are as much a part of the music as the notes and rhythms.

  “We hear the music around us and we feel the way that the song should proceed, that is a part of the power within the tune. It drives toward a conclusion, the song tells a story that words cannot contain. Beginning, middle and end; introduction, conflict and resolution. Songs tread over the familiar territory of narrative. We expect the next part, we anticipate the movement. We are gratified when the music concludes according to our expectations.

  “Yet… Yet, the music does not always accede to our expectations. Songs can be wily and deceiving, even as people can. No, this is not untruth; it is obfuscation. There is a profound difference. Songs can lead us in one direction and then, suddenly, shift in a new vein. The notes lead us to believe we are at the end and just when we would expect the resolution we are met with upheaval, even discord at times. The song goes on, but in no way that we had expected previously.

  “At first we are disconcerted by the unexpected movement, but then, something happens within us in response to the song. We enjoy the variety; we thrill in the surprise. It is pleasant to be so deceived and redirected. The cadence, when interrupted, gives us fresh ears to hear. Then, when the theme is recapitulated, we appreciate it anew.

  “My brothers, we should not fear when the conclusion is unclear. We should trust The Melody will resolve. Even if there is discord in this moment, the song continues and we are different for it. Hear, play, dance. Move with The Melody rather than resisting it. Embrace the tune even when the cadence is deceptive. Think on these words, my brothers, until tomorrow.” And he turned to leave, but instead of walking to his hut, he circled to Peek’s position. Locambius placed a surprisingly strong hand on Peek’s elbow and nearly lifted him from the ground. Peek followed him away from the now silent group of monks.

  When they approached the hut Peek had slept in the previous night, Locambius finally spoke, “May I come inside, young sir?”

  Peek simply nodded, unsure of what was about to happen. He held back the flap for Locambius to enter and then joined him in the dark interior. Locambius didn’t seem to take notice, but walked over to the blankets and sat down. He gestured to Peek, but it was lost in the dim interior of the hut. Peek didn’t see the movement.

  “Join me, please.”

  Peek sat next to Locambius, still unsure about what was happening.

  “Adrocus told me about your day.”

  “Don’t blame him. He was just trying to help me.”

  “There is no blame, young sir, I think Adrocus is wise beyond his years. He came to me and requested help in training you. He has learned well the first lesson of a monk. Have you?”

  “To ask for help?”

  “That is the point of the first day of training,” Locambius’ tone made it clear that he still awaited an answer.

  “I think I learned it,” Peek desperately wanted to ask for help with Vlek, but fear stole his tongue.

  “As with all lessons, young sir, this is one that you must re-learn every day. The Melody calls us to be what we ought to be, not what we are. The chasm between the two is wide. Learning is the bridge we must cross. Yet those who stand in the middle of the bridge rely upon the first stone as much as those who have taken their first step.”

  Peek looked at Locambius with a quizzical expression. The metaphor meant nothing to him.

  Locambius laughed before continuing, “We are monks that serve The Melody. We train to listen, we study what we hear and we record what we learn. Our simple brotherhood exists to keep the memory of The Melody alive in this world. Many have forgotten what it sounds like or even how to hear it. We give our lives to the hearing so that the tune may not depart from humanity.

  “When you came to us without being called or guided I had hoped that you were… I had hopes for you. But now I’m beginning to doubt.”

  “I can –“

  Locambius cut him off, “Fear not, the doubts are all mine. I still have faith in you, young sir. I do not want you to misconstrue your training, nor to misunderstand why Adrocus is no longer guiding you. It is no failure or yours or his, but rather the success of asking for help.”

  As Locambius rose to leave Peek wondered who would offer help if Locambius needed it. In a moment it would be too late. Peek knew he needed to say something about Vlek, something about his threats, something about the spying.

  “I need help,” he barely breathed.

  Locambius stopped and turned back toward him, eyes questio
ning.

  “Vlek…” once the dam broke the words demanded release, “Vlek found me and threatened me. He told me the monks have to provide food for the village or we’ll all starve.”

  Locambius smiled, “That is no great task. We shall help as we can.” The old man moved to leave again, but his brow furrowed as he took in Peek’s expression, “There is more?”

  “He wants me to spy on you.”

  “On me?” Locambius’ brows raised high.

  “On the monks. He wants me to tell him what you’re planning.”

  A slow smile emerged from the depths of the long, white beard, “He can know it all. Tell him freely, young sir. Would he but ask us, we would tell him the same. If he is assuaged by something so simple, give it.”

  “But he’s…” Peek didn’t know how to describe the evil of Vlek.

  “He’s lost and scared. He has no hope. If food and news will calm his fears, then calm them. Think of it as Vlek asking you for help.”

  “Why should I help him?” Peek’s lip curled at the thought.

  Locambius stood, still in the doorway, and looked at Peek for a long moment as the light of the day faded completely into night. “I lead all the monks,” he said, “not from my desires, but for their needs. Leadership is sacrifice. You, young sir, are made to be a leader. I see it in you, even if you don’t. Learn this lesson. Vlek has asked for your help. Give of yourself, if not for his sake, for the sake of your old village.” The old monk ducked through the doorway and left Peek alone in the darkness.

  Eleven

  “The tree?”

  “No dear friend, not the tree. I have shown you the place, you must provide the key.”

  “What key? There is no door, no lock. Where can I use a key?”

  “I cannot say more. I have shown you the place, you must provide the key.”

  By this time the news of Eytskaim’s response had spread throughout the great city and throngs were pressing close to the gate of the secluded pool with the ancient tree.