by T. D. Steitz
Then, Alistair grinned as he heard a voice that disrupted his wandering thoughts. He followed the sound of the voice, and it grew louder.
“…and all the shadows rushed towards him. They looked like all kinds of the scariest monsters you can imagine! It looked like it was all over…”
Alistair’s smile widened. He knew this voice.
“…but then, Ardent opened his eyes. They burned with white fire! He stepped forward, and without a word, destroyed all the monsters, and even the shadows they came from. He beat Calamity!”
Alistair heard the faint gasps of enthralled children. He rounded a corner and saw a wonderful sight. Tancred was older and more fragile than Alistair remembered, but his voice hadn’t changed. He sat beside a roaring fire, surrounded by children clinging to his every word. Alistair couldn’t bring himself to interrupt, so he leaned against the stone wall, and enjoyed Tancred’s story.
“…and then, the sounds of a thousand horns filled the air. It was like Calamity was surrounded by a vast, invisible army. Ardent told Calamity that when he heard that sound again, it would be the end for him. That’s why the Marked Ones carried horns; so that when they blew them, Calamity would remember Ardent’s promise to return and defeat him for good.”
Alistair chuckled to himself at the sight of the amazed children. He remembered fondly what it was like to be in their place; huddled beside a fire, listening to Tancred’s deep, soothing voice. His wonderful stories spoke to the deepest places of a child’s heart.
“Is this a true story?” A young girl asked.
Tancred smiled at her. “Truer than any you will ever hear,” he replied. “Now off you go, all of you. I’ll tell you some more stories later.”
The children scattered, giggling.
Alistair approached Tancred, but a woman joined him first.
She whispered urgently in Tancred’s ear. “Sir, the descendants are waiting for you. They’re growing impatient.”
Tancred’s countenance changed from joyful to irritated. He sighed in exasperation and followed the woman down a passage leading out of the Great Hall.
Alistair returned to wandering around the Great Hall. Before long, the man who brought him there returned.
“They are ready for you,” he said. “Follow me.”
Alistair followed the man down a large stone passage, and into another large room. There was a small table with a handful of men sitting around it, and Tancred was seated at the table’s head.
“That will be all,” one of the men at the table said coldly.
Alistair’s guide bowed his head and left the room.
The descendant who spoke approached Alistair. He was short; barely reaching Alistair’s chin. “What do you want stranger?” He asked. The man's tone surprised Alistair.
“I have come seeking safety for my people,” Alistair replied calmly.
“Why would we grant that?” The man asked. “Why would we want more mouths to feed? More sheep to protect?”
Alistair’s eyes narrowed. “Is this not the Mountain’s refuge?” He asked. “Is this not a place where Ardent is King?”
The short descendant rolled his eyes. “So, we must take in every beggar that crawls to our doors?”
Alistair breathed in and out slowly, then spoke from behind clenched teeth. “He would.”
The descendant jabbed a stubby finger into Alistair’s chest. “Do not pretend to know Ardent better than us!” He warned. “We are the ones who speak for him!”
Alistair glared down at the man. “No one speaks for him.”
The short man muttered angrily and stormed back to his seat.
Alistair looked at Tancred, still seated at the head of the table. His arms were crossed over his chest. A scowl was etched on his face. The descendant’s words hadn’t sat well with him either.
Another descendant stood and addressed Alistair. This man was tall and thin. “You are not the first person to appear at our gates, expecting sanctuary simply because you wear a hood and carry a stick,” he said, turning to face his fellow descendants. “Acting like a Marked One does not make you marked!”
“You’re right,” Alistair replied. “My mark has nothing to do with my hood or my staff. I am marked only because I was chosen; saved by Ardent’s fire that burns within me.”
“If you truly are a Marked One, then show us your mark,” the descendant demanded. “Prove to us that you wield the power you claim to possess, or we cannot let you stay.”
Alistair stepped forward. “If you knew anything about the power I wield, you would know that it answers only to Ardent, and he doesn’t prove himself to anyone; least of all you or me.”
The descendant threw his hands in the air. “Banish this pretender from our midst. He and his people have no place here!”
The room erupted with shouts.
Tancred rose slowly from his seat and walked calmly to Alistair.
The noise died down.
“Your face…” Tancred said softly. “Why is it so familiar to me?” Then, Tancred’s face lit up. “It can’t be... You’re Alistair!” Tancred laughed aloud and wrapped his frail arms around Alistair. “It is so wonderful to see you again, my dear boy!”
Alistair smiled wide and embraced Tancred.
The descendants around the table exchanged confused looks.
“You and your people are most welcome.” The descendants shouted their disagreement, but Tancred ignored them. “After all, that is why this place exists. How many people have you brought?”
“A thousand,” Alistair answered cautiously.
The descendants’ angry shouts grew louder.
“Wonderful,” Tancred replied warmly. “That is so wonderful.”
“Tancred!” A third descendant stood. “You cannot make this decision! You do not speak for us all!”
Tancred turned slowly towards the man. “Am I not the leader of this council?”
The man glared at him. “You are… for now.”
“Until that changes, everyone is welcome at the Mountain’s Refuge,” Tancred said.
The descendants rose to their feet, shouting accusations.
“That is enough.” Tancred said with surprising calm. “This meeting is over. Alistair and I have much to discuss.”
Alistair followed Tancred out of the room, and back into the Great Hall.
“You'll have to forgive them,” Tancred said as he and Alistair walked side by side. “The descendants weren’t always the way they are now.”
“Why are they called the descendants?” Alistair asked.
“They have a direct lineage to the original six Marked Ones,” Tancred explained. “They think their bloodlines give them authority. Most of them resent my leadership because my father was once Fallen.” Tancred paused to admire a tapestry. “They’ve simply forgotten who Ardent is. They tried to keep his memory alive through laws that would force people to remember.”
Alistair shot Tancred a confused look.
“The council became so obsessed with their rules and policies, that they lost sight of Ardent’s heart. The memory grew stale.”
Tancred and Alistair walked through the Great Hall, and into the open air. Behind the peak that housed the Great Hall was a wide-open meadow enclosed by other mountain peaks; like the center of a giant crown. Nestled into each peak was a vast network of homes and shops. The meadow was full of joy, laughter, and life. It reminded Alistair of the stories of the Valley of Plenty before darkness took over the world.
Alistair and Tancred strolled through the lively meadow and Tancred listened eagerly to the tales of Alistair’s life. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mother, Alistair,” Tancred said. “She was a wonderful woman.”
Alistair nodded.
“It warms my heart to see the man you’ve become; despite the darkness you’ve faced. I look forward to getting to know you better, but for now, I have some things I must attend to. Besides, you need to go and bring your people to their new home.”
A
listair smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Tancred said warmly. “I am so glad you’re here. I’ll see you soon.”
Alistair walked back to the Great Hall, past the ornate tapestries and flaming torches, and back through the massive doors. He strode past the stables and between the giant statues of watchful Marked Ones with blazing eyes.
Matana ran to greet him as he passed through the outer gates.
“Let’s get the others,” he said.
Wybert paced as the sun slipped behind the mountain peaks. “They should be back by now.” He began to wonder if he would be able to honor Alistair’s request and leave him behind, but then the figure of a man walking beside his bear appeared through the growing shadows.
The freed slaves rose to their feet at his approach.
“Ardent has provided again!” Alistair shouted. “Follow me to our new home!”
A piercing howl split the night. The hair on Matana’s spine bristled as she crouched low and bared her teeth.
Alistair gripped his staff in both hands, searching the shadows. “What do you see Matana?” He asked.
A huge, white wolf leaped out from the shadows.
Wybert stepped forward. “Buddy?”
Chapter Thirty-Two
A Great Feast
“Buddy?” Wybert whispered. “Buddy!”
The large, white wolf laid his ears back and lunged toward Wybert.
Wybert opened his arms, and let Buddy tackle him to the ground. Wybert laughed and Buddy whined as they wrestled around.
“Hello…”
Alistair spun around. He was so preoccupied with Wybert and Buddy’s reunion, that he hadn’t noticed the woman standing behind them in the shadows.
She stepped out of the darkness, and into the fading light of the setting sun. The deep, orange light lit up her face. Her deep, green eyes sparkled, and her auburn hair shone like fire in the sun’s rays.
The air around Alistair sweetened. His breath caught in his chest. He found himself at a loss for words. She was absolutely… captivating.
The woman extended her hand to Alistair. “I’m Jacosa.”
Alistair cleared his throat, stepped forward, and took her hand. He felt his heartbeat against her warm skin as they touched. “I’m Alistair.”
Jacosa slowly released Alistair’s hand. There was something different about him; beyond the obvious peculiarities of carrying nothing but a staff, a horn and traveling with a bear. This difference was something much deeper. It was one she felt in the gentle strength of his hand. It was one she saw in the wildness of his eyes.
“I’m looking for the Mountain’s Refuge,” Jacosa finally said.
“You found it,” Alistair replied. “That’s why we’re all here.”
Jacosa gazed at the sea of people. “Where did you all come from?”
“They were Calamity’s slaves. They’ve been freed.”
“What about you?” Jacosa asked.
“Me?”
“Yes, where’d you come from?”
Alistair smiled and looked away. “Well, that’s a very long story.”
“I’d love to hear it sometime,” Jacosa replied with a beautiful smile.
Alistair felt the authenticity in her voice. He saw within Jacosa, an incredible depth, an ancient foundation. “I’d like that too,” he said. “We should go. It’ll be dark soon.”
Jacosa nodded.
“Everyone, get ready to go!” Alistair shouted.
“Buddy come on!” Jacosa called.
Buddy whined but wouldn’t leave Wybert’s side.
“Who’s that?” Jacosa asked.
“That’s Wybert,” Alistair said.
Jacosa wasn’t sure she’d heard right.
Wybert walked over and Buddy followed.
“Wybert, this is Jacosa. Jacosa, this is Wybert.” Alistair said.
“Are you from the Forest Clan?” Jacosa asked with clear excitement in her voice. “Are you Wymond’s son?”
“You know my Father?” Wybert replied.
“Yes, I know him. He sent Buddy with me when I left the Forest Clan to find this place. He… he thinks you’re dead. He’ll be overjoyed you’re alive. He also gave me this.” Jacosa reached into her bag and held a book out to Wybert.
Wybert took the book, Long Live the King, tenderly in his hands, and looked fondly at the cover. “I haven’t seen this in a long time.”
“It sounds like we all have a lot to discuss,” Alistair said with a grin on his face. “But for now, we need to get moving.”
Wybert and Jacosa agreed, and the three began the trek along the path to the Mountain’s Refuge. The crowd followed. Stone Marked Ones kept watch on either side. Night fell, and they continued by the brilliant light of Alistair’s staff.
Alistair couldn’t help but sneak glances at Jacosa’s hopeful face in the pale light. Her joy was palpable and infectious.
Soon, the warm glow of fires roaring in the eyes of the six giant statues guarding the Mountain gates lit up the stone path to their new home.
Alistair lifted his horn and blew a strong, piercing note.
A triumphant shout arose from the crowd.
The mighty gates opened, and beyond them, a warm welcome awaited. Tancred stood, with a wide grin on his face, in front of all the people of the Mountain.
They surged out of the gates and adorned the newcomers with fresh, vibrant wildflowers. Some people shot nervous glances at Matana.
“It’s alright,” Alistair reassured them. “She won’t hurt you.”
They laughed as she lowered her head and let them pet her.
Rael ran to join the other children playing in the soft grass.
The sounds of celebration filled the air as the two peoples came together as one. The festive throng made their way to the wide-open doors of the Great Hall and Tancred addressed the people. “On behalf of the Mountain’s Refuge, I welcome you all! Here, you are slaves to no one. You are brothers and sisters, living in the freedom of Ardent!”
The crowd cheered.
Tancred smiled. “Now, let us feast together, in celebration of our growing family!” Tancred led them into the Great Hall.
The rows of tables in the Great Hall were set for a feast. There were baskets of fresh vegetables, ripe fruits, platters of roasted pig, deer, hot bread, and so much more. Barrels of wine and ale lined the walls. Huge fires roared around the room. It was unlike any celebration Alistair had ever seen.
Tancred took his seat at the head table, but the chairs beside him, designated for the descendants, were empty.
Everyone took a seat.
Tancred beckoned Alistair over. “Will you sit with me?” He asked.
Alistair smiled. “Of course.”
Alistair watched the feast with silent amazement. The people of the Mountain and the freed slaves laughed, shared stories, and feasted well into the night.
Matana was curled up in the far corner of the Great Hall, beside a roaring fire.
Alistair filled his plate with scraps of meat from the table and walked over to her. He sat down and Matana slid her head over to his lap. Alistair watched Jacosa speak happily with the people sitting around her. He hadn’t meant to stare, but before long, she was smiling at him. Then, she was walking towards him. Alistair’s heart raced as she sat down beside him.
“This is amazing,” Jacosa said. “When I set out to find this place, I wasn't sure I'd find anything at all. I didn't think I’d find this.”
“Me neither,” Alistair agreed. “Jacosa,” he said finally, “there’s something I want to ask you. In the Forest Clan, did you meet a man named Dalibor?”
Jacosa shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t. Who is he?”
Alistair didn’t know how to act around this strange, wonderful woman. He hardly knew her, but he wanted to tell her everything about himself. He wanted to tell her that Dalibor was his father and that every time he thought about him, he was flooded with sadness and grief because he
spewed years of anger and hatred on him. He wanted to tell her that Dalibor was a wonderful father, and he deserved so much better in a son. He wanted to tell her how he left home without saying goodbye, and how the last time they talked, Alistair accused his father of not missing his mother. He wanted to tell Jacosa how badly he longed to see him again and to admit to him that he was wrong; to tell him he was sorry. He wanted to tell Jacosa all of that, but he wasn't sure how. So, he said “no one… never mind.”
Something was bothering Alistair. Jacosa was about to ask him about it when a man stood and cleared his throat. “May I have your attention, please?”
The room quieted down.
“We have a small tradition here at the Refuge that we would like to share with you.”
Several people stood from the tables and doused the torches around the room. The only light came from the dancing flames of the fires in the center of the hall. Musicians sat along the walls with drums, flutes, and horns. They played a soft, rhythmic melody.
Children entered the room wearing costumes. They danced along with the music, acting out ancient scenes of heroics. They portrayed tales of Marked Ones saving the day, conquering darkness. They even acted out a scene of Ardent’s swift, and final victory over Calamity.
Alistair and Jacosa leaned against the wall, with the warmth of the fire on their skin. Their arms brushed against each other, and Alistair couldn’t help but smile.
When the festivities ended, everyone made their way home. The new arrivals slept in a village of canvas tents in the meadow until permanent homes could be constructed. Before long, the entire Refuge slept peacefully.
Alistair laid on the soft grass beneath the stars. His head rose and fell on Matana’s warm belly. He’d been sleeping on the ground for so long that now it was the only way he could. He didn’t mind. He savored the peace he found beneath the vastness of the stars. It reminded him of Ardent’s artistry within him.
