The Return of the Fifth Stone

by Vincent Todarello

  “Son, you are destined to lead an important life,” my father told me while carving a light bow from a healthy flint tree limb during our time in the wilderness.

  “Why, father?” I asked.

  “In time you will see, Valdren.”

  My father was a secretive man. He often said things that he did not further explain, leaving my questions unanswered, as if he were waiting for some special time when all things would be revealed, all my questions answered. I thought that would be the day marking my thirteenth cycle.

  “Tell me father, what do you mean?” I pried.

  “Croyan. You can call me by my name now, son.”

  “Nah. I prefer father.” I chuckled awkwardly at the thought of calling him by his name.

  He dodged my question. I wasn’t frustrated though. Those were the best days of my life. I valued time with my father. Often times I did not see him for days on end, so I cherished the moments we spent together. But he was so secretive that I sometimes thought even my mother and I were kept secret as well. We never went anywhere and my mother would only occasionally ride to the Sanji market, which I had only been to twice in all of my cycles.

  What did he do? I had always wondered it. Where did he go and why? I wanted so badly to know more about him that I would crawl under our cabin through tunnels that I burrowed just to get my ear closer to the private chatter between he and my mother. Their conversations always seemed dire and important, as if so much depended on them. But, alas, I could only hear muffled voices, and when I did hear something I didn’t understand it. The most I gathered was that they hoped someone named Scievah would be destroyed so that peace could be restored to all of Haaret.

  #

  Shortly after his time with me in the woods, father went missing for many days. It was the longest he was away from my mother and me, and I wondered if he was alright. I made a cloak of chubfish scales for him as a gift in return for the wealth of knowledge he bestowed upon me those six days in the wilderness, and I also stitched a soft leather tunic from the fur and hide of the stagdeer we hunted. I fed myself and my mother with a chubfish I caught in the river. My mother was proud of me, but I wanted my father to see how well I learned from him. I wrote a letter to him in my journal beside a lamp filled with chubfish oil.

  While writing I heard an urgent clamoring coming from the sitting room. My mother was whispering with someone. I crept out my bedroom window and slipped into the tunnel I dug under the cabin. I worked my way to the area under the flooring of the sitting room. I burrowed a bit too close to the surface there, as I could see light creeping down through the floorboards above me. Dust gently fell into my hair and eyes with the movement from above, causing me to tear.

  I recognized the other voice to be Patreus, my parents' close friend from the neighboring farm. A nervous worry weighed on his words. I heard them but I didn’t believe them.

  “He’s been arrested.”

  My mother panicked. “When? Tonight?”

  “Three days ago.”

  My thoughts raced. Was he innocent and in need of help? Was he a criminal and involved in misdeeds during the time he spent away from us?

  My mother pressed him. “What was the charge?” The floorboards wailed with rhythmic creaking, and more dust filled my eyes with tears. She was pacing back and forth.

  “Worship.” Patreus came right out with it.

  I was confused. What was worship? It was not stealing or killing or lying. Those offenses I had known. Worship. I had a sense of what it meant; something beyond what my father taught me about the fish and game in the wilderness. It was something beyond respect, something to do with hunting perhaps. My father was in trouble for hunting, I thought.

  “I tried to tell him it was too soon for the people.” Mother's words shook with despair.

  “I know, Reyne. But while it may be too soon for the people, it is precisely the right time for Haaret.”

  I heard short gasps and tension in her voice as she let out sighs of sadness. She began to weep, and I soon realized that the tears in my own eyes were no longer the result of fallen dust from above. I thought of my father and how he told me that a man should refrain from crying or complaining and learn to deal with problems and accept truths. I wiped my eyes with my shirt sleeves and tried to honor his instructions. I listened on.

  “Where is he?” my mother asked. “I must go to him.”

  “No. It’s far too dangerous. If they were to catch you they’d surely kill you,” cautioned Patreus.

  “What about him? What will they do to him?” she insisted. She continued pacing, raining dust down upon my head. “How did this happen?" Her crying stopped and her voice began to rattle with fury. "We were always so careful!” she protested.

  “The impure have spies everywhere, Reyne."

  "We have spies everywhere!" she argued. "Why weren't we told?"

  "I do not know. Alas, we must now be more cautious than ever. They will be looking for more information,” reasoned Patreus. “I urge you to wait until I hear more. We don’t know how much they know about you, about your son.”

  “But what if they put him to death?” my mother pressed. “I need to say goodbye to him.”

  “No!” urged Patreus. “Think about the consequences, Reyne. Think about what Ver’Deiro said. Think about the Hope and your son, Valdren. Your only son. He is the Unity.”

  Then there was a shuffle of footsteps leading away and their voices became faint.

  “Where is he?” asked my mother. “Valdren, he’s not in his room. Valdren, Valdren!” Her voice shook as she called out.

  I could not speak. My mother ran out of the cabin and into the night, yelling for me. Patreus joined her.

  “I’ll check by my barn,” he said. “Sometimes the children sneak out there at night to play.”

  Was my father okay? Was he alive? Could he be dead already? Who is Ver’Deiro? What is the Hope? What did I have to do with it all? My mind was racing.

  My mother and Patreus were gone for a long time. I heard their calls but I could not bring myself to answer. A storm of emotions churned in my head, pouring tears from my eyes like torrents of rain. Fear, despair and confusion gripped me all at once.

  I gathered myself and crept back into my bed, where eventually my tear-laden eyelids became heavy and swelled shut.

  #

  I awoke soon after to the hushed voice of Patreus trying to keep a quiet tone.

  “I’ll leave you to it then,” he whispered to my mother.

  My mother stood in the doorway to my room and lovingly and sorrowfully looked into my eyes. I began to cry again and she comforted me.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Your father was taken away. He didn’t do anything wrong but they took him away,” she insisted.

  Her brow furrowed in anger but her eyes glistened with sadness in the light of the moons, glassed over with freshly forming tears. My father would be disappointed with all the crying, I thought. He was a strong man, both physically and emotionally. I thought about what he used to say, and I spoke it aloud: “A man must be strong to hold his family together. A rock. He doesn’t complain or cry. He doesn’t beg or lie.”

  I wiped my face with my shirt sleeve, stopping my tears. There were none left behind my eyes anyway. My mother calmed herself as well.

  “Where were you all this time?” she probed.

  “I was in my tunnel.”

  “What tunnel?”

  “Under the house. I heard noises and I was scared at first, so I hid there.”

  “You’ve burrowed tunnels under the house?” she asked, surprised.

  “Yes. And out by Patreus’ barn too.”

  “I should have known that is why your hands and clothes are always dirty." Her eyes wandered all over me, from the dust in my hair, to the dirt caked under my fingernails, to my blackened hands, to my soiled clothing. "You’re just like your father.”

  I wanted to ask why, but all that came out instead was, “Wh
ere is he mother? Is he okay?”

  “I don’t know, Valdren. I don’t know.”

  I blurted, “You mustn’t go after him mother; Patreus said it’s too dangerous!”

  “I know. Get some sleep now. It’s late.”

  I slowly drifted back to sleep, but in my dreams something terrible happened. A dreadful man was forcing my father to step into a cauldron filled with molten lava. Then there was a soothing voice, or sound, and I saw a bright winged woman. A glow surrounded her and she spoke to me without opening her mouth. The sound grew louder and began to rattle me with its benevolent force.

  Suddenly I was shaken out of my dream. When I came to I realized it was an earthquake, not the sweet soothing music, that shook me in my slumber. Quakes were common some days around the farms. The earth rumbled for several moments, gently, but enough to startle anyone from their sleep. My parents told me that it happened because Haaret was no longer in balance the way it once was when the king placed the four stones in Haaret. The Firestone was stolen in the ancient days, and Haaret was taken out of balance and the elements were not at peace. That is why there were earthquakes, droughts, famine, volcanoes and wicked storms. That is why the Great Eye, the massive storm over the Eastern Sea, would not subside.

  I didn’t know much about the ancient times or what the world was like. Truth be told, I didn’t know much about the present world, or even anything beyond Sanji in the north or the Pinestar Woods in the south. I was not exposed to much in this world, but I assume my parents wanted it that way, especially knowing how secretive my father was.

  I wiped the crusted sleep from my eyes and began creating a sketch in my journal of the winged figure I saw in my dreams. When I was nearly complete, there was another rumbling quake, and I heard a crash of shattered glass in the sitting room. I leapt from my bed to investigate. It was a small plate of bellyfrits and bread. Next to it was a note in my mother’s neat, curvy and slanted handwriting, saying “I will be home before midmeal.” She must have gone to look for my father, I thought. I went back into my room and placed my journal under a loosened floorboard beneath my bedding, a hiding place I used for safe keeping my things.

  A slow and dusty gallop approached the cabin from a distance as I cleaned up the plate of food. I instinctively hid as I was conditioned to do if someone came from the gravel path, which my parents only used to go to and from Sanji. I crept across the sitting room on my hands and knees and slowly peeled back the chubfish drapery from the front window, peeking up the path. After a few moments I recognized the mounted figure to be my mother.

  Characteristic ridges lined the top of each shoulder blade, down to her lower back. She had a slender figure, delicate face, pointed ears and almond shaped eyes. She looked different from everyone else that I had seen. I shared her slender figure, ears and eyes somewhat, but not the ridges on her back. She carried herself with an elegant upright countenance while my posture was slightly hunched like my father’s. Her skin was strong yet soft to the touch, smooth and shiny with a milky blue-white tone. My own was more tan, somewhere between hers and the half-smoke color of my father's skin. As she approached I caught a glimmer of the sun dancing on her skin, shining like the scales of the chubfish, despite her face being mostly obscured by a loosely fitting cloak.

  A strange dark figure moved beyond her in the woods, disappearing behind a tree; it looked like a stout and large rat. It scurried quickly, low to the ground, like an animal. I watched the tree for several moments as my mother continued on the path. Then, further back, the figure reemerged, passing amongst the tree trunks before vanishing into the woods.

  “Good morning,” she greeted me as a gust of brisk air blew into the cabin with her.

  “Good morning Mother.”

  “I saw your father today,” she said.

  “Why did you go? Patreus told you it was too dangerous,” I insisted.

  “Because I thought he could use some food and water.”

  “But what if they saw you?”

  “They didn’t. I was disguised and inconspicuous,” she raised her arms up to draw my attention to the heavy cloak she wore. “I showed him the cloak you made for him.” She changed the subject.

  “You did? Did he like it?” I became excited.

  “Very much. He told me he is proud of you, and asked me to keep it safe for him here at the farm.”

  "How were you able to see him if it is so dangerous?"

  "Spies, Valdren. We have many spies. Some of them are even guards at the jail." She smiled fiendishly.

  Although I smiled in return, I couldn’t help but allow my happiness to fade.

  “Why don’t you go spend the day with Deius and Lunaris? It will keep your spirits up.” My mother sensed my sorrow.

  “Okay mother,” I replied, though I wasn’t sure that I wanted my spirits lifted at all.

  As I left the cabin I heard the soothing voice from my dream again, ringing in my head. I could not hear words, only the sound of her voice. It was melodic and it calmed me completely.

  #

  Patreus and his wife Fiama had three children: Peitus, a tall, slender, handsome young man of fifteen cycles, and twin brother and sister Deius and Lunaris, who were the same age as me. The boys had half blonde hair like their father, with hazel green eyes, but Lunaris had fair brown hair and stark blue eyes to match her mother.

  Deius and Lunaris were always astonished at how I burrowed tunnels. Over time I dug out a small underground fortress beneath their barn. In one part, the earthen walls stretched to our full height while still supporting the weight of the ground above. They often poked fun at me, calling me an Uhaareti, one of the Haareti folk who dwell deep underground and possess mole-like characteristics. They told me my hands were rough and strong like the Uhaareti too.

  We imagined our wooden toy figures were in a battle deep within Uhaaretu, the underground realm. I played the part of the Ahaareta forces, the surface dwelling Haareti. Deius was stuck playing the part of the evil Uhaareti, always eager to please his bossy sister, who would rather sacrifice her figurines than play the role of the molemen. Finally, Lunaris played the part of the Lapisian and Aquidian forces, Haareti from lands I had only heard about in stories. I did not know where they were, but I had guessed they were from the air and the sea.

  My mother told me once of a city atop a floating mountain and homes built on top of tree canopies supported by tree trunks wider than our whole farm and taller than the height of the clouds. She told me about majestic underwater cities and dwellings deep in the Eastern Sea beneath the Great Eye. My father said he would teach me about the world, about the four realms and the ancient times, and about what the future holds. All of this was to be part of my transition to adulthood.

  When I returned home for supper I saw that Patreus was in the cabin again. I thought about going to my tunnel to eavesdrop, but I decided that if I was to be an adult then I should be permitted to hear and contribute to adult conversations. I burst into the sitting room, interrupting them.

  “Run back outside and play while we talk, Valdren,” my mother said.

  “No,” I spoke sternly. “If I am to be an adult then I must be treated as one.”

  “He’s right, Reyne,” said Patreus. “It’s time.”

  My mother nodded reluctantly, turning her eyes from me as she sat on the boar skin couch with her hands on her knees.

  “Valdren, some soldiers are coming to arrest your mother,” said Patreus.

  “What?” I exclaimed.

  “I received word that she was followed by a scout this morning when she visited your father. I believe his arrest was partially a trap to get to the heart of our rebellion and dissolve it.”

  “I think I saw… it… this morning. The scout. I thought it was an animal in the woods. It looked like a big rat,” I quickly added.

  “Hadut the Betrayer, I presume,” Patreus mumbled to himself. “Valdren, were you seen?” he asked while stroking his dusty blonde beard in contemplation.
>
  “No. Very doubtful. I was hidden myself.”

  “Valdren, this is very important. If you saw him that means he may have seen you. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Patreus. I’m sure.”

  There was a moment of silence as Patreus looked to my mother with a draining sigh of simultaneous disappointment and relief, slouching his shoulders and sinking his head.

  “What is the rebellion?” I asked.

  “I will explain, Valdren. There will be no more hushed tones shielding you from the truths of this world." He glared at my mother. "That I vow to you. You are ready for it, and I know your father began to teach you, but right now there is no time. You both must hide,” explained Patreus.

  “I will no longer reduce myself to cowering in some corner, hiding who I am!” my mother exclaimed with pride as she stood up, raising a rebellious finger into the air.

  “Reyne, your life is in danger,” Patreus insisted.

  “What kind of life is this? We must stand up for ourselves against this tyranny!” she protested.

  “In time, Reyne. We will in time. I know you understand this,” Patreus reasoned.

  I had never seen my mother this way. I had only known a gentle, nervous demeanor. She was strong, determined and convincing, filled with righteousness. But Patreus’ reasoning was sound and calculated; passionate yet patient.

  “You’ve been through much, Reyne. Relax,” he spoke softly, still trying to calm her. But any sadness within her had turned to prideful anger. A fire burned behind her smoldering eyes, and she furrowed her brow with thoughts that made her steam in fury. “Valdren must be hidden, and you as well,” Patreus continued.

  “No,” she fumed. "I will not!"

  Patreus spun when he noticed something in the distance out the front window. I craned my neck to see. It was a group of soldiers, five of them, far up the gravel path heading toward the cabin. Upon their chests were matching crests depicting a wicked black raven.