Arthur in Eblis - 18. Chapter 18: Haley’s Story—The Road to Herten

Chapter 18: Haley’s Story—The Road to Herten

The homing pigeons knew only to fly between the observation post and the mill; there was no way to warn Haley and his companions, descending the steep road from Alter Berg, that there were travelers moving eastward on the Great Mountain Road, and that their location and speed made it inevitable that the two groups would encounter one another. The boys at the observation post bit their fingernails in frustration, and then felt relief as they saw Haley’s group melt into the brush at the foot of the road.

“Someone comes!” Jason had said. “Hide!”

The boys knew of Jason’s magic, and were quick to obey. They huddled in the sparse shelter of a copse some fifty yards from the road. When they reached the shelter of the copse, Haley felt as if a cold, wet blanket had been thrown over his head. He stifled a cry and looked sharply at Tyler. That tween put his finger to his lips, and nodded. It’s okay, he mouthed silently.

It’s okay didn’t last but a moment. It was nearly noon, and the group of boys that had been approaching from the west decided that the copse in which Haley’s group was hidden would be a fine place to stop for lunch. The new boys sat only yards from where Haley and his companions were hiding, opened their packs, and ate.

When one finished, he removed a wooden flute from his pack, and began to play. It’s ‘Danny Boy,’ Tyler thought.

Neither Tyler nor the others were aware that just as the music of the recorder struck their ears, the notes also struck the threads of the magic matrix, strumming them gently as a player might strum the strings of a giant harp. The boys did not know that the echoes of the magically augmented notes carried information back to Edward.

“There are five boys hiding in the copse very near to us,” he whispered to Robbie. “There is no one else nearby on the road or the river.”

“We should leave,” Edward added.

“No.” Robbie’s whisper was firm. He had felt the echoes, and in them had felt something that Edward had not. “No. We need to meet them.”

Robbie rolled over and hugged Peter. Peter smiled and returned the hug, until he saw Robbie’s eyes. Robbie whispered the news to Peter; Edward likewise told Walter. The boys exchanged glances. When Robbie stood, they all did so.

“We know you are there,” Robbie said. The boy’s high tenor voice was preternaturally loud in the stillness of the afternoon. “We know you are hiding. We mean no harm, and ask the same kindness we would show to you.

“We know you are watching,” Robbie called a second time. “Save for our daggers, we are unarmed. Will you show yourselves?”

Seth stood. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Why are you here?” He felt the power growing within himself—the power that would kill this Finder.

It was Peter who replied. “I see your power. Please do not harm us.” The boy felt oddly calm, even as he sought to find the magic that would repel an attack. Don’t know what he’s about to do . . . don’t know what to shield against, he thought. And what about the others?

Tyler stood, and the concealing spell was broken.

Before anyone could speak further, Peter’s eyes widened. “You’re on a quest!” he said.

“How do you know?”

“I can see it,” Peter said. “I see the light that surrounds you.”

“Our quest leads us to Herten,” Tyler said. He did not want to say more until he knew more about these boys.

“We travel there, as well,” Peter said. “We go to rescue our friends from the Red Robes—”

“As do we,” Tyler said. “And I see the light of your quest.”

The two groups of boys looked from one to the other. Jason, Robbie, Tyler, and Peter seemed certain in their assessments of each other. The boys, now nine, sat in the copse, shared water and—for those who had not eaten, lunch—and talked. Stories were exchanged, although the narrative was sometimes superficial. Seth was not ready to share with these strangers his experience at cleansing himself of the darkness; Tyler held back the story and magic of the Lodge; and Robbie’s group kept the death of Casey close to their hearts. Still, there was truth, and enough of it, to satisfy the budding semblers among them, and the two groups swore amity and common purpose.

The mountains that rose from the river became higher and steeper. There were no villages on the north side of the river, although the road still squeezed between the river and the rising mountains. On the south side of the river, the land flattened somewhat, and was host to farms and villages. The river, itself, was wider and seemed to run more slowly, but it was an impassible barrier for the boys.

“These people depend more on the river than the road,” Jason said. “There are no roads on the south side of the river.”

“I never thought I’d be tired of fish!” Edward said.

“We need other food,” Tyler said. “Bread, vegetables, fruit. Do not forget what happened to Troy. We’re going to have to find a way to cross the river, stop, and barter.”

“Moon was nearly new, a couple of days ago. They’ll be doing first market in any towns we pass.”

“But how can we cross the river? And whose idea was it, anyway, to put the road on this side of the river!”

* * * * *

Not far upriver, the Heron slid silently through the water. Here, the river was narrow, and fast; the wind was light, and the boys had to work the sweeps to provide steerageway—enough speed through the water to control the boat and avoid the shallows on the south side and the rocks on the north bank. At another place, the river was wide and slow, the breeze was brisk, and little effort on the sweeps was needed.

“Look!” Gonde cried from his post atop the mast. “A road to the sky!”

Arthur and the others saw the steep slope and the road that ran in narrow switchbacks, seemingly—as Gonde had said—to the sky.

Steep hill and rugged rocks, thought Arthur. This road is well built. It would be nearly impossible to reach the top of this mountain without it. It must be ancient, built with magic aeons ago. No one builds like this, today. Arthur had no reason to know that the road had been built by the Master Masons of Alter Berg, and with not only magic, but also engineering.

The sun finally showed itself in the north-eastern sky, and the boys greeted it with untrammeled joy. So warm, after the cold of night and the chill of morning, Arthur thought.

Below the road to the sky, the river became slow as the land flattened. The breeze was often enough to provide steerageway, and the journey was easy.

* * * * *

“What’s wrong?” Seth asked. The boys had camped for the night on a bit of land between the road and the river. It was the only shelter they’d found for many miles. Tyler had the last watch, the one that ended at dawn. Tyler’s hand on Seth’s cheek had wakened the boy. Now, Tyler and Seth were kneeling behind a rock staring intently at the river. The light of the coming dawn was slight, and more conducive to imagination than to reality.

“A boat comes,” Tyler vocalized, knowing that the sibilant hiss of a whisper would carry farther across the water and in the dry air than would a soft voice. “They are armed. They are . . . powerful.”

Seth knelt beside his friend and peered through the brush. “Golemages? Soldiers?”

“No. Something else. They should appear in—there they are.”

“Arthur! He’s here. I can feel him!” Robbie’s cry behind Tyler and Seth wakened the others.

A boat, lateen-rigged and traveling only marginally faster than the current, moved toward the side of the river. On a signal from a boy in the bow, the sail was struck, an anchor thrown from the stern, and a tween jumped in the water and swam the few yards to the shore. He rose from the river and ran into the arms of the younger boy.

“Robbie! I knew you were alive! I’ve never given up hope of finding you!”

The smaller boy’s answer was smothered by kisses until he had to gasp for breath. He answered. “Arthur, I knew you were alive but I thought I’d never see you again.”

He seemed to withdraw into himself, and then said, “Arthur? I’ve promised these, my companions, that we would travel to Herten to free others of our companions from slavery. I’ve promised myself to you, but I must honor this promise, too. I . . . I don’t know what to do.”

Arthur kissed Robbie again, and then said, “Robbie, I had sworn to go to the slave market at Hagen to rescue you. When I learned that you were to be taken to the city of Herten, I swore then to follow you to Herten. Knowing you are alive doesn’t change that oath. I and my companions will accompany you to Herten—”

“Arthur? You must lead us!” Robbie said. “You are the eldest. Come, meet my companions, they will agree.”

Robbie kept Arthur’s hand in his when he led his forever-companion to his friends. “This is Arthur,” he said. “You know who he is. He and his friends—the boys on the boat—are also on a quest, a journey that leads them to Herten.

“Arthur is a mage, and a powerful one. Tyler? You know secrets, but Arthur knows . . . other things. He should lead us.” Robbie’s voice was firm.

There was only a short moment of silence before Tyler spoke. “I have learned that leadership is not a right, but an obligation. I have learned that a leader must be someone with many talents. Arthur? I am not even sure if I wear the cloak of leadership, but if I do, and if you will accept this cloak, I would relinquish it, gladly.”

Arthur nodded. “The greatest leader is the one who makes it such that after all has been accomplished, the people say, ‘we did this ourselves.’ I will accept the cloak of leadership with the understanding that we thirteen are the people, and that only together can we accomplish what we are dedicated to doing.”

Something passed between Arthur and Tyler, and it was done.

“What is our greatest need?” Arthur asked.

“Fruit and vegetables,” Tyler said. “We’ve been, well, trapped on the north side of the river for so long, we’ve run out of supplies.”

Arthur nodded. “We have fruit pemmican, which will help restore some of the amino acids and vitamins you need, and it is nearly new moon. We will stop at the next town along the river.”

“What will we use for money?” Edward asked.

Tyler dug into his pack. “The Lodge gave me some coins. I don’t know if the coins, themselves, are still currency, but they are gold and silver. That should help.”

The people in the next town, which was holding its First Market, were less concerned about the images on the coins than they were about the silver and gold content. The adventurers were able to purchase not only fresh fruit and vegetables, but also fruit pemmican bars that would help keep their levels of vitamin C high enough to prevent the scurvy that had almost killed Troy.

The Heron was large enough to hold the thirteen boys comfortably close. Perhaps it was the confined quarters, perhaps it was the knowledge that all were on the same quest, but whatever it was, the thirteen found themselves in such a harmony that sharing and professions of love soon bound them. Perhaps the quest had a role in that; perhaps it was just young boys’ hormones.

“You said that you were among twenty captives and that one of the boys who escaped with you was a child, Casey,” Arthur said. “Yet Casey is not with you, and I feel a great sense of sadness when you say his name.”

Arthur did not ask, directly, but his statement was a question that had to be answered. Robbie’s companions looked from one to another. Then, Robbie said, “It is my duty to tell the story.”

The boys were gathered around a campfire on the north side of the river. It was a safe place, for Jason had declared that no one was on the road for miles on either side of them.

“Once upon a time,” Robbie began, “or less than a single lifetime ago, there was born in Western Arcadia, a child named Casey. He was a warrior and a mage, or would have been had he lived. His life was interrupted by a band of golemages, men in red robes, who traveled in the company of soldiers, and he was taken prisoner.”

Robbie paused, “That reminds me, Peter, how did you use magic to break the locks on our manacles? How did you free us?”

Peter’s blush was hidden in the gloaming. “I seduced one of the guards, and promised to have sex with him if he would free my manacles.”

Peter hesitated. “Then I killed him.”

The boys did not ask the obvious question, and Robbie continued his story. “Peter freed us, and we escaped. Not long after, we were discovered by Red Robes who tracked us down because they had hanks of our hair that led them to us.”

Robbie stopped, again. “I still have Casey’s hair, and I keep it close to me, for I know that someday it will be important.”

Robbie continued the story. When he told of Casey’s sacrifice and death, there were no dry eyes among his listeners.

* * * * *

There was no moon in the sky. Tomorrow, a sliver of new moon would appear to mark the first day of the month of Bila, the dry month that followed the rains of early spring. On that day, First Market would begin in villages, towns, and cities throughout Eblis, and the rest of World. Traffic entering the capital city of Herten would be heavy. Hundreds of people would arrive on foot, on horseback and in horse-drawn wagons, and by boat. Arthur and his companions, who had named themselves “The Rescuers,” hoped to slip into that city amidst the crowd.

Gonde had shown the others how to fish, and a tub in the well of the boat was filled with live fish and eels. Robbie would speak for them; he had learned that he could dissemble as well as detect truth or falsehood in the minds of others. The plan was laid, now, thirteen boys slept, hidden in reeds just a mile upstream of Herten.

Gonde was first to wake, disturbed by the sound of voices on the road above the scarp. They challenged one another, but their tone was not belligerent. Gonde woke the others. “Come on! There’s traffic on the river. We must join it.”

As expected, the river was crowded when they arrived at Herten, and they found their way through the thicket of boats without being challenged.

“Tupence to tie up,” a boy challenged them when they found an empty space along a quay. “Shilling for a day,” he added.

“Would you take an eel?” Robbie asked. “They’re worth more than a shilling.”

“What would I do with an eel?” the boy said. “They have little value.”

“But not such as these,” Robbie said.

The boy looked closely at the boat’s cargo, and shrugged. After some little additional negotiation, a deal was struck.

The public houses near the wharves were nondescript. Their shingles were pictographs representing what was available: a mug, a plate, a bed. One pub was different only in that its name was lettered on the shingle: Stone Cold Lager. The name, itself, was not revealing: lager was brewed in cold cellars, and was served cold. The form of the letters, their shapes, was that for which Tyler had been looking. He gestured to his companions, and the thirteen entered.

“A cold lager would be welcome on such a warm day,” Tyler said to the publican, and then moved his arms into a Sign.

The publican pulled the long lever that would pump the ale from the basement into a mug. While he waited for the foam to subside, he moved his arms into another Sign. Tyler responded. The publican pulled the lever again, moved a second mug under the tap, and said, “Whence come you?”

The question was stilted as was Tyler’s response. Neither would have raised suspicion had they been overheard.

“We come from the high place, the Alter Berg.”

That the man was his contact was confirmed by the next question. That Tyler was a lodge-brother was confirmed by his answer. Several sentences more, and the publican smiled and held out his hand. “Be welcome, all of you.”

Then he frowned. “But why are you here?”

“First,” Tyler said. “Not all of my companions are lodge brothers. Four are apprentices; all the others are sworn friends and companions. Further, we know we are all on a quest.”

“You use an old word,” the publican said. His eyes narrowed. “How does this quest fit into the tenets of the lodge?”

“Maccus, my grandfather and Masterguildmaster of the Lodge of Masons at Alter Berg, says that it does,” Tyler replied. “He and the people of Alborg prepare to follow in our footsteps.”

The publican nodded. “All of the truth,” he said. “I am Senior _____ of Herten. It is nearly sunset . . . too late to convene the lodge, today. You will rest, here. Tomorrow night, you will tell your story to us.”

* * * * *

“Tonight, we will meet with the Grand Lodge of Herten. Robbie, Edward, Peter, Walter, Arthur, Golgi, Gonde, and Dale are not lodge brothers—”

“We cannot be excluded,” Arthur said.

“You will not be,” Tyler said. “As long as you are willing to swear death-oath that they will not reveal the secrets of the lodge.”

It was agreed: the boys who were Arthur’s companions and the boys who were Robbie’s companions would be initiated into the lodge. This would happen in the afternoon. In the evening, all would be presented—and would present their quest—to the Grand Lodge.

The wall opened to a touch, but a touch that could only be known to a Master Mason, one who knew not only the location of the trigger, but also the gesture that would warp the magical field to provide the energy the trigger needed.

Stretching before them was a corridor. Its walls, floor, and ceiling were stone. There was no light save what they carried with them: rings imbued with magic, and which glowed even brighter than the sun.

* * * * *

It had been agreed: the first mission would be to remove the Prince. No one said, “assassinate,” for he would be given a choice, and only if he made the wrong choice would he be killed. The second mission, on the following night, would be to free the captive boys.

“If we free the boys first, someone will deduce that there are hidden passages, and we’ll never reach the prince,” Arthur said. “If we judge the prince, first, no matter what the outcome, people will be too confused to understand how we reached him, and we will still be able to use the secret passageways to rescue the boys on the second night.”

Thirteen boys and the fifteen men who accompanied them stood in a circle around the prince. The men were silent; they were all masters of their own crafts and skills, and saw the power of the quest that sat upon the boys. They knew that judgment was in the hands of the boys—or of the quest. The first boy spoke.

“My name is Arthur. I came to this unhappy country to rescue my Forever-Companion who was captured by your people and who would have been brought here as a slave except for the sacrifice of a child and the help of his companions.

“Answer this charge!”

“My name is Golgi. My little brother, Gonde, and I would have been sold as slaves to a man who would soon have killed us except that we escaped. You not only permit, but encourage such slavery.

“Answer this charge!”

“My name is Haley. The people of my village would have starved to death except that brigands killed them first. You could have saved them from their fate. Not by gifting them with food, but by not taxing them of all they had.

“Answer this charge!”

“My name is Jason. I was outcast from my people because they feared my magic. It was your golemages who instilled that fear.

“Answer this charge!”

“My name is Seth, my companion is Troy. We were taken from our homes by your golemages even though we might have used magic to make the life of our families and our villages better.

“Answer this charge!”

“My name is Dale. My people fight the river for their very survival, because your soldiers take all they can, and there is nothing left but what the river provides—until your soldiers come again and take even that.

“Answer this charge!”

“My name is Peter. My companions Edward and Walter, and a score of others, were taken by your golemages because we might have magical talent that you could corrupt and pervert to your own use.

“Answer this charge!”

“Look at this!” Robbie demanded. He held the few strands of Casey’s hair that had survived their adventure.

“This is the hair of a boy—a child!—who was kidnapped on your orders by your people. He died, and he knew he would die, while killing one of your minions, a red-robed cleric, a golemage, who would have taken not only his life but also his soul! He died to save himself, but also to save his companions.

“Answer this charge!”

The sneer on the prince’s face communicated all that was necessary. His words condemned him.

“I am Prince Prancrator of Eblis. My edicts are for the benefit of the entire country. You choose a few examples, and assign to them the weight of my rule. Know you, that where there is bad there is also good, and that where there is good there is also bad. You see only part of the picture, and you cannot judge me. You are children, despite these men who accompany you, you are merely children, and cannot possibly understand . . . ”

“You lie,” Peter said.

“You lie,” Tyler echoed.

“You lie,” Arthur’s words put the final seal on the verdict. The prince was recalcitrant. He would die.

All including the prince marveled when the power of the quest settled on Robbie, and the strands of golden hair in his hands sparkled, and became a sword. The prince’s surprise lasted only a moment, for Robbie knew what he was destined to do. He thrust the sword through the prince’s breastbone and heart. The sword overcame the resistance even of bone, and protruded from the prince’s back before Robbie pulled it back. The instant the sword was free of the prince’s chest it became a hank of fine, golden hair that Robbie tucked into his pocket. The prince’s body fell to the floor.

“Come,” Arthur said. “Our work is done.” And Robbie will need comforting!

The men and boys filed through the secret door; one of the men sealed it behind them. In the prince’s bedchamber, it was as if no one had been there, save for the expanding pool of blood that flowed from under his body.

The emotional stress of confronting, and then killing, the Prince had been more than Arthur had anticipated. The rescue mission was put off for a day. That was probably for the best. The confusion that the prince’s death generated in the city seemed to grow during the ensuing time. By the second day, The Rescuers were ready. The palace guard was still in disarray, and the army—not trusted by the palace guard—was prohibited from stepping in.

“When we built Herten,” the Masterguildmaster of Herten said, “the prince asked for a huge wine cellar.”

Everyone understood that we meant the ancient masons, and that the prince was not the one who lay dead.

“The prince knew wine, and he knew which wine would cellar best, and which would be worth more from aging. He supported not only his own court from his profits, but also an orphanage that we built inside the palace compound.

“The current prince has corrupted both the orphanage and the wine cellar. The orphanage is a prison where the boys you seek are held; in the wine cellar they are tortured, mentally and physically, to twist their minds to serve the prince.”

“There are, as best we know, 43 boys presently incarcerated. Some of them are very close to being the prince’s slaves. They may resist being rescued.”

“Will we be enough? Will we be strong enough?” Haley asked.

“With our aid, you will,” a familiar voice said. Maccus stood at the doorway.

Maccus had brought 20 other men and tweens, all in armor, all wearing swords, poniards, and daggers.

“We will attack at lauds,” Arthur said. “It is likely that so early in the morning the captives will be asleep, that there will be no one in the torture chamber, and, perhaps, that most of the golemages and guards will be absent or outside.”

“There are two doors that lead from the old passageways to the wine cellar, and five others that lead to the orphanage,” the Masterguildmaster of Herten said. He spread a map, brown with age, on the table. Had the map not been created and reinforced with magic, it would have tattered and blown away with the slightest breeze. As they had done to the city, the Masons had put magic into their as-built drawings.

“We will split into seven groups of seven,” Arthur said. “There will be someone with magical talent in each group. I will give the signal through the mages to open the doors.”

He pointed to the map. “Those who enter the orphanage will close the doors behind themselves. Leave the doors in the wine cellar open. The teams in the orphanage will sweep, thusly—” he drew his fingers across the map— “bringing the captives with them into the wine cellar—”

“Won’t that make them afraid?” Jason asked.

“They must be reassured and made to be not afraid,” Arthur said. “Look, see: the shortest route to safety is through the wine cellar; and, it is furthest from any reinforcements that might come.”

Jason nodded his understanding.

Forty eight boys, tweens, and men walked silently through the hidden passage. One child accompanied them: Gonde would not be denied. Groups of seven split off at side passages. Upon a signal, seven secret doors were opened. Five teams spilled into the orphanage and two teams entered the wine cellar.

Some of his former companions-in-captivity were alert enough to recognize Peter, and his voice seemed to reassure them. “We have come to take you from this place.”

The boys who had traveled with Peter, Robbie, Edward, and Walter, recognized those boys, and reassured the others: “These are friends,” the boys said. “These are our friends.”

Not all the boys understood, but all were willing to follow their rescuers.

Before they could leave through the hidden doors, The Rescuers and their allies were attacked. Golemages—redrobes—and soldiers in thrall to them broke through the wards on the outer doors and rushed through the orphanage-prison. Haley’s group was the first to meet them. Haley pushed the rescued boys toward the winecellar, and stood facing the golemages and their soldiers. His lips were compressed so that all the color had left them. His dagger was in his hand. Beside him, Jason stood, likewise armed only with a dagger.

Behind Haley and Jason, five others stood. They stepped back, not in fear but in awe. They saw what Haley and Jason did not see: the power of the quest that lay upon the boys.

Likewise, the golemages stepped back, pushing the soldiers before them. “Kill them,” came the unvoiced command of the lead redrobe. “Kill them.”

Jason looked at the soldiers, and touched Haley so that the boy might see what Jason saw: a blackness that curled throughout the soldiers’ souls, a blackness that the soldiers were powerless to control.

One of the soldiers, perhaps a bit more alert than the others, realized that Jason and Haley saw that which was written within him.

“Kill us!” he demanded, he pleaded. “Kill us, for they have enslaved us to the Darkness, and we cannot escape except by death!”

The golemages heard, and tightened their control over the soldiers. Jason understood, however, and sent the power of the quest to lie upon the soldiers. The men’s faces seemed to relax, the rictus of their expressions softened as they dropped to the floor, dead.

Jason took Haley’s hand. “I will need your strength for this,” he said, and pushed power at the golemages.

Darkness from the golemages rushed toward Haley and Jason, but never has Darkness won against Light. The brightness of the quest quenched the darkness and the souls of the golemages, and they fell to join the bodies of the soldiers.

* * * * *

The Lodge had not been idle. While The Rescuers and their allies from the Lodges of Alter Berg and Herten were freeing boys enslaved to the late prince and killing their guards—the golemages and soldiers—the much greater forces of the Lodges had taken control of the palace and of the government. Most of the people of Herten knew nothing of the Lodge, but they recognized the men who had taken power as their neighbors, as members of their guilds, as people whose integrity had never been questioned, and accepted the new order. The few that resisted were quickly quelled.

* * * * *

“Where shall we go?” Arthur asked. The thirteen companions were gathered in the Stone Cold Lager public house. Of the boys who had been held captive with Robbie and his companions, five had died either en route to Herten or under torture. The remaining eight sat with the thirteen.

“We could go back to Arcadia,” Troy suggested.

“Alter Berg,” Gonde said. “I want to see the sky up close!”

“Arcadia,” Walter said. “If the Heron isn’t suitable, we can seize a ship, and sail to Barrone,” he added.

“We go nowhere,” Robbie said. “We must remain here—The Rescuers, the 13, must stay, for we have not completed our mission. The rest of you? We cannot decide for you. All we can do is, perhaps, make it easier for you to take the path you choose.”

“Why must you stay here?” one of the former captives asked. “What keeps you here?”

“The quest,” Robbie said. “We were on a quest, and Jason says it’s still with us.”

“What’s a quest?” The question came from the youngest of the former captives.

Arthur began the explanation; Tyler added to it; Robbie concluded. “So,” he said, “you see, we must do that which we are called upon to do. You do not have to—”

“But I want to!” the littlest said.

“And I,” said another.

“And I,” echoed others.

The boys stood, eyes open in wonder as a bright light seemed to come from Robbie and fill the room. Arthur looked and saw not just acceptance, but commitment from the rescued boys, and from his companions.

“It is settled, then,” Arthur said. “You will join us on the quest. We will visit Alter Berg and see the sky up close; we will visit Esther and the people at the other post houses who have helped us. We will visit your village—” he looked at Golgi and Gonde—“the village of First Rapids, and on the way, we will visit Dale’s family along the river. We will travel throughout the country, and together we will bring the light to Eblis. We will travel to Arcadia, to tell our families of our mission, and to tell the families of those our companions who have died that they live in our memories and in our hearts. We will visit Casey’s home to tell his family that he died a hero, and that he, too, lives in our hearts.”

Postscript: Robbie, Edward, Peter, and Walter stood apart from the others. Robbie opened the pouch that contained the few remaining strands of Casey’s hair. Peter touched it. “He has already been reborn,” Peter said. “I feel him.”

“Will we meet him?” Edward asked.

“Not soon,” Peter said. “But someday, I think. He is elsewhere and elsewhen, in a place that I cannot easily see. I’m sorry. All I can see is that he will be a warrior, that he will find love, and that he will again be a hero.”

“Then I no longer need this,” Robbie said, and released the golden strands of hair to float away in the wind.

The End (of this story)

Translators’ Notes

This story was translated from The Book of Heroes.

The time of this story is uncertain. Some of the translators believe it took place near the time of Ulee of “Dragon’s Treasure” (perhaps 6,000—7000 years before the time of Auric of Arcadia) even though the name of the prince (rather, warlord) of Eblis is not the same as in that story. On the other hand, at the time of this story, Beringia is said to be a trading partner of Arcadia, which may indicate an earlier time.

The story does take place in Eblis. The “Red Robes” are a recurring theme in stories about Eblis which are known to have taken place within a few score centuries before the reign of Auric of Arcadia.

The Lodge at Alborg appears to be akin to the Builders Lodge of the Athabascans and of Argon’s people on Beringia (see “The Translator”), and may be the same organization. Occasionally, the translation team has redacted information about the Lodge, which is uncomfortably close to the Masonic Lodge of which some of the translators are members.

Arthur is a tween from southwestern Arcadia. Slave traders have captured Arthur’s best friend and sworn companion, a boy named Robbie. When this story opens, Arthur is traveling to Eblis to rescue Robbie. We know little of Arthur’s background, training, experience, family, or station except that he is a magic user with some knowledge of healing. His concern that someone might hear his magic suggests that he is a novice or that he is aware of the fate of magic users in Eblis—or both. He has some training as a fighter, and does not hesitate to attack and kill two larger men—when warranted. (That Casey, Robbie, and other boys do not hesitate to kill—even to execute a man in at least one instance—suggests a warlike or at least chaotic environment.)

We were unaware until we were well into the translation that Haley and Seth’s journey began nearly a year before Robbie and his companions were kidnapped and Arthur set out to find Robbie. Although we did not understand the author’s reasons, we agreed to follow his lead.