by T. D. Steitz
Every day that winter, Tancred told Alistair stories about his life and the Marked Ones.
“My journey began long before I was born.” Tancred would say, “My parents were born and raised with the Fallen. The darkness was all they knew.
One day, my father was looting a small village in the grasslands to the south with a band of Fallen. They were approaching a small hut along the outskirts of the village. Outside the hut was a man, kneeling in the dirt. His back was to them and he was leaning against a staff. My father charged at the man. As he closed in, my father heard the man mumbling something.
The man leaped suddenly to his feet. He twirled his staff over his head, and his mumble became a shout. His staff erupted in white flame and his eyes shone brightly.
His voice echoed in my Father’s head, as the man drove his staff into the ground. White flame rushed across the ground to meet them. The blazing wave hit my father in the chest. The fire spread through him, and he fell to the ground screaming until he passed out from the pain.
The other Fallen left him and fled back to the shadows.
When my father finally woke, he knew something was different. His eyes fluttered open. The cold, gray world he had always known, had been replaced by a bright and brilliant one full of color.
The man with the shining eyes, stood over my father smiling. ‘Welcome to the light my friend,’ he said kindly. He reached out a hand and helped my father to his feet.
My father clutched at his chest. The fire that nearly killed him was still inside his body.
The kind stranger reassured him. ‘Don’t fight it. Let the light overtake you, and you will never be the same again; I promise.’
My father began to walk. He could feel the fire spread to his arms and legs. He laughed as the flame burning inside him warmed his core. He started to run, not knowing why. He sprinted into the forest, laughing as he went. Everywhere he looked, shadows gave way to brilliant sunlight. Twisted, gnarly roots and vines grew smooth and sprouted dazzling flowers. He stopped in a beautiful meadow, where he watched a mother deer feed her foal. Panting, and smiling, he began to understand. He had been living in death, and now he was finally experiencing life. With a joyful whoop, he leaped into the air and sprinted back the way he came.
The strange man was there waiting for him, leaning on his staff, grinning.
My father embraced the man. ‘What has happened to me? How can any of this be?’
‘I told you,’ the stranger replied, still holding my father close, ‘you are not the same.’”
“Alistair.”
Alistair snapped out of his daydream as his father called him back to the present.
“I need to finish plowing the North field by sundown, and I need you to refill the woodshed.”
Alistair nodded and set to his work. As he walked into the barn, he passed a wooden sword his father had carved for him. The lid of an old barrel he used as a shield lay beside it in the hay. He grinned as he thought back to the days when he would run around the farm saving his mother from Fallen soldiers or charging into battle beside the Marked Ones. It seemed so long ago. Even at his age, he had learned the true nature of the world. He knew who was winning the fight between light and dark. He reached over his childhood toys and gripped the handle of a heavy ax. Hoisting it to his shoulder, he headed to the woodshed. The repetitive task of chopping wood allowed Alistair’s mind to wander back to Tancred’s tales, and the memory of the old man’s deep voice filled his mind again.
“My father stayed with the man he would come to call Daskal for many months and learned everything he could about his transformation.
‘Daskal,’ he asked, ‘how did everything change? I saw nature itself transform from bleak and harsh, to bright and glorious!’
‘It is not the world that changed,’ Daskal replied, ‘it is you, your perspective. Now, even though darkness and hardship still surround us, you can see the light. You have hope now. It burns inside you. Do not forget it. You must always cling to it and thank Ardent that the darkness has not yet won.’
‘Ardent? The fire within me, and the light, it comes from him?’
Daskal nodded.
My father had heard all about Ardent, all the Fallen had; but it wasn’t until now that he understood him. He had experienced Calamity’s rule, but now that he had surrendered to Ardent, he knew true power.
After a while, my father left Daskal. With a combination of sadness and joy, he said goodbye to the man that changed his life. He would never see Daskal again in this world, but they were eternally bound by the light that now consumed them both. My father traveled North; hoping to find the nomadic Fallen that used to be his people. He wanted so badly to share his new life with them, but this would prove to be a much harder task then he hoped.”
Crack! Alistair reached for the next log to split, only to realize that he had split the entire supply. He stacked the wood in the shed and then returned to his father.
Dalibor smiled proudly at his son as he approached. Dalibor was a hard worker; the hardest Alistair had ever seen. His work had kept him strong and able, even as he aged. Dalibor clapped Alistair on the shoulder. “Would you mind mending the fence behind the chicken coop?”
Alistair smiled and nodded. He turned and jogged to mend the fence as the biting wind kicked up again. He pulled his collar up around his neck and worked through the cold. He couldn't help but wish he was inside by the fire. He loved to warm up by its dancing flames at the end of the day and listen to his mother play the harp and sing or listen to his father tell stories. It was in this same scene that Tancred had shared many of his tales. Alistair smiled as he thought again of the old man. He missed him dearly, and he wondered where he was now. Alistair’s mind returned to the tale of Tancred’s life.
“My father finally caught up with his old tribe,” Tancred went on. “He approached the camp, and the stench of death filled his nostrils. Rabid wolves fought over a scrap of bone in their cage. As my father reached the perimeter of the camp and peered through the jagged trees, he saw a familiar, but now sickening site.
The Fallen were gathered. They were passing around a dark, smoky mass and greedily breathing in its fumes. As each person inhaled the foul, murky, gas, their smoky eyes darkened, and black tar oozed from the corners. They howled with pleasure and rage.
My father took a deep breath and let his new-found fire fill him. He walked straight into the center of the group and cleared his throat. At first, they paid him no attention until one of them leaped to his feet shouting and pointing at my father’s eyes. They were shining bright.
Growls and screams erupted from the tribe. They seized him, forcing him to his knees.
‘Stop!’ My father screamed. ‘I can help you! There is light and hope out there. I’ve seen it! Let me show you!’
The Fallen ignored his cries and dragged him to a nearby cage, crudely constructed of human remains. The stench was overwhelming. They placed a guard at the door of his prison, a young woman about his age.
He remembered her.
She had a long dark braid down her back with small shards of bone and rock woven into it. The parts of her back and shoulders that weren’t hidden by the tanned hides she wore were covered in deep scars.
It reminded my father of his own back.
She glanced back at him and he noticed beauty behind her gray eyes.
With nothing to lose, my father spoke to her. He told her what he’d experienced in the past months. He spoke to her of the fire inside of him. He told her about his teacher and friend, Daskal. He told her that there was the hope of escaping her shadowy existence. ‘There is light and beauty out there. I can show it to you.’ He said. For hours he talked, and for hours, she ignored him.
The gloomy day was becoming night again. A large brute stomped over to my father’s cell and spoke quietly to his guard. An ugly sneer parted his face as he lumbered back to join the others.
The girl turned and opened my father’s cell, pointing a jagge
d spear into his ribcage. She led him to the camp’s center, where the Fallen soldiers licked their lips and jeered.
My father closed his eyes and accepted what was about to happen to him with silent strength. Then he heard an uproar.
The young guard had thrust her spear into the Fallen brute’s chest. She sprinted into the forest, dragging my still-bound father along behind her. She dropped down a small crevice and slid into a hidden cave. She held up a finger to her lips as the furious Fallen warriors searched for them. They sat in silence, listening to the howls and snarls of wolves and Fallen for what seemed like hours. Once their hunters finally moved on, the girl led my father out of the ravine and into a small clearing. She pulled out a crude knife, cut the ropes binding him, and spoke.
‘Is it true?’ Her voice was raspy from years of breathing in the dark fumes of the Fallen, but it was still somehow sweet, and soothing. ‘Everything you told me, is it true? Can you show me?’
An enormous smile broke out on my father’s face. ‘Yes,’ he answered with a laugh. ‘It’s all true. I’ll show you everything.’
My father felt like he needed to look into her eyes. He did, and at first, she avoided his gaze but taking her hand, he reassured her. ‘Trust me. Look into my eyes.’
She relented and returned his stare. As she did, my father’s eyes became so bright that the woman tried to look away but found that she couldn’t. She breathed more rapidly as the brightness she was staring into began to burn. Rays of light shot from my father’s eyes and poured directly into hers. Thick black tears rolled down her cheeks as the pain increased until, it was over.
My father leaned back and looked into bright and beautiful blue eyes.
His new companion laughed; a foreign sensation to her, and they both knew that she too, would never be the same again.”
A hand on his back made Alistair start. He glanced back to see that his father had joined him in mending the fence. They attacked the work together and finished the job quickly.
“Alistair! Dalibor!” Alistair’s mother was calling from inside the house.
They went inside where a hot pot of stew was waiting.
Dalibor kissed Layla before they all sat down to eat.
The stew was mostly water with a few vegetables, herbs, and some scraps of rabbit meat. Still, it was hot, and it soothed Alistair’s core as he slurped it down.
“Alistair, not so fast,” Layla warned. “Slow down and enjoy it.”
Alistair stirred his stew and tried to remember the rest of Tancred’s tale.
“In the days that followed,” Tancred said, “my father showed the young woman everything he knew about the light. He told her the truth about Ardent; that he loved her and wanted only the best for her. My father showed her that she could talk to him whenever she wanted.
This was all new for them both as they had grown up hearing that Ardent only wanted to control them and steal their freedom. They saw through the lie now since they knew what it was like to be a slave to the darkness. As the two grew closer to Ardent, they also grew closer to each other. One day, when they were sitting by the fire, their eyes met. That moment confirmed their suspicions. They loved each other.
My father smiled at this realization and pulled my mother close. Her beauty struck him, as if for the first time. Her hair was silky and smooth. It hung around her shoulders, free of debris. Her eyes were bright and full of joy.
They knew they had been given to each other, so they were married. They traveled to the Eastern Mountains, where I would be born.
Everywhere they went, they told anyone who would listen about Ardent. They taught everyone that he was stronger than Calamity and that one day, light would defeat the darkness.
Eventually, an entire settlement developed around them full of people choosing to believe Ardent’s promise. They lived in the hope of his return and rejected the fear that crippled the rest of the world. My parents told them everything about their lives and how they had been saved by the light. These stories would eventually get passed down to me.
My father was a master craftsman, and he rallied the other settlers to build a vast structure in the mountains. It was to be a place where Ardent was King. They called the place The Mountain’s Refuge, and for a time, they lived in peace.
I am telling you all of this because for you to understand me, you must understand where I came from. Before I was born, events were set in motion that would define me.”
Alistair yawned. The day’s work and his full belly left him tired and content. He got up from the table and stretched out by the fire. He closed his eyes and listened to the fire pop and crackle. As the flames warmed his face, he thought about Tancred’s parents and the warmth they must have felt to have the fire of Ardent flowing through them. Even if Ardent was real, was he worth following? He asked himself. He thought about Tancred’s parents and how things turned out for them. Would they do it again? He wondered. If they could go back, would they take their stand, or give in? Tancred’s voice flooded his memory again…
“When I was still a small child, Calamity found out about my parents and the Refuge. He decided to deal with them himself. In the middle of the night, he came. A deep, thick, blackness spread over the mountains. Long arms of shadow slithered into every home but ours.
A foul, grungy voice carried through the air and whispered a single word. ‘Begin.’
The tentacles of shadow grew and divided, coiling around the sleeping people. They constricted, and the horrible sound of a giant force breathing in filled the darkness. The arms sucked the oxygen from the air. When the sound faded, only shriveled bodies still lying in their beds remained. No one woke, and no one screamed. They were there one moment, and the next, only eerie silence. They were gone.
The long black arms retracted into the shadows and materialized into Calamity himself standing at our door. He saved us for last because he wanted to see the terror in my parents’ eyes before he killed them. His emaciated hand closed into a fist and the door exploded inward, waking me and my parents.
My father rushed out to see what was wrong and came face to face with Calamity.
My mother grabbed me and locked me in the broom closet, before standing with my father.
Calamity advanced.
They stood their ground.
‘Where is your light now, as the fear takes hold?’ He asked with a sneer. ‘You are alone. The light cannot save you here.’
My father grabbed my mother’s hand and gazed into death’s eyes. ‘No matter what you do, Terrene will not forget.’ He said.
Calamity let out a blood-curdling scream of rage. His mouth opened wide and became a swirling pit.
My parents, however, hardly noticed. Their pupils began to split, and bright white light burst through the cracks. They were smiling as if they were somewhere else. Then, to Calamity’s fury, they laughed.
Calamity’s anger grew, and the house shook, but my parents kept laughing. Finally, Calamity lunged forward and swallowed them. Then Calamity was gone, along with my parents.
The whole scene was witnessed by a small group of scouts that were returning to the settlement. They found me and raised me in what remained of the Mountain’s Refuge. Eventually, they told me the stories of my parent’s lives.
I grew and learned about Ardent, and the light my parents died for. Eventually, I set off on my own to fight the darkness and spread the light. When the spring comes, I will return to the Mountain’s Refuge. I want it to be what my parents intended again.”
Shortly after, Alistair recalled, Tancred left, and he hadn’t seen him since. The night before he left, Alistair remembered overhearing an urgent discussion between Tancred and his father.
“You are out of options Dalibor. You cannot stay here!” Tancred urged.
“Look around you, Tancred!” Dalibor replied. “We are safe. I will not lead my family on a treacherous journey to escape a danger that isn’t here.”
“I implore you Dalibor, open your eyes! Terrene
is diseased! The Shadow Lands stretch to the base of the Eastern Mountains. It won’t stop. Not until every living thing is gone. Now is the time. Come with me.”
Dalibor shook his head. “I’m sorry Tancred. I can’t.”
Tancred sighed. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Tancred’s stories sounded wonderful, and there was a time when Alistair would have testified to their truth. But, as the years passed, Alistair found it difficult to hold on to something as juvenile as hope. It didn’t make sense to wish for anything more than the gloomy world he knew. Wishes only led to disappointment. Alistair peeked around as the sound of sweet music filled his ear.
His father was sitting on a stool, puffing his wooden pipe slowly.
His mother had pulled her chair close to the hearth. The brilliant flames reflected off her deep, green eyes. Her black hair, now sprinkled with hints of gray, cascaded gently down her shoulders. Her warm, slender hands positioned themselves on the tattered wood frame of an old harp. Her fingers danced along the strings gracefully.
Alistair breathed in deep while the familiar melody filled the room.
Then, Layla began to sing:
Do you recall that cloud of gold?
The warmth of the fire, our lives to hold.
Hear my song, evoke the words he spoke.
Arise, and remember.
Arise, and let the horns sound again.
We knew that day, the most loving hour.
Saw in his face, the truest power.
Still away we turned, and now our sorrows burn.
Arise, and remember.
Arise, and let the horns sound again.
He beat darkness once, and he will again.
He’ll bring back the light, and our hope, with him.
So, let freedom ring, when we once more see our King.
Arise, and remember.
Arise, and let the horns sound again.
Arise, and remember.
Arise, and let the horns sound again.
