The Greylands: Volume I Read online

The Greylands: Volume I

  Susan Skylark

  Copyright 2013 Susan Skylark

  Revised 2016

  Table of Contents:

  The Road:

  Part I

  Part II

  Part III

  Beyond the Mountains

  Other Books by this Author

  Sample Chapters of ‘The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book I’

  ‘Captain of Shadow,’ Sample Chapters

  Sample story from ‘Over the Hills and Far Away’

  Excerpt from ‘The Greylands: Volume VI’

  Sample story from ‘Legends of the Brethren’

  Author’s Note: Though themes and names may be similar, there is no relationship between the following stories. Each is independent and stands alone.

  The Road:

  Part I:

  Prince Bryant sat in the common room with two sons of the greater lords of Ithamar; they all had older brothers and very little chance of ever taking their fathers’ places of import and influence unless their elder brothers succumbed to some mysterious illness or fell in battle. Thus they were relegated to the privileged but socially obscure branch upon which they perched. Much was expected of them by their noble parents but they would win little glory, wealth, or renown for anything they did, though their elder brothers seemed to accrue acclaim simply by getting out of bed of a morning. It was a seductive glue that bound them together: jealousy of their elder brothers and anger at fate for placing them in such an insignificant position. Most nights they could be found drowning their woes among the city’s many inns and drinking houses. When they gathered in such a place, the natives inevitably relocated so as not to find themselves in an awkward confrontation with such important and often drunk personages; the consequences of such an experience never favored the peasants. The boys would drink their fill and complain even more of the hardships of the world while the innkeeper listened and shook his head thinking they knew little of hardship and nothing of real life, at least not life as experienced by the vast majority of humanity throughout history.

  Ithamar was not the worst of countries in those days in its treatment of its peasants but the taxes were high and common men had few rights in a conflict of interest with the nobility. So they drank and complained and bonded over their seeming sorrow. Then they would stumble home drunk, fall into bed while servants cleaned up the mess, and begin anew their tedious lives on the morrow, succored only by the hope of the coming night.

  Bryant’s father the King, his elder brother, his mother, his numerous aunts, his grandmother, and everyone else in the Kingdom with the nerve often scolded him about his dissolute habits but he ignored them or scoffed or yelled back, all to no avail. Why did he not lead his father’s soldiers as his younger brother did or marry the daughter of some foreign King? Could he not learn something from all the philosophers and sages in the Kingdom and be of use to his father and brother in matters of state? Could he not quietly disappear to his country estates and hunt contentedly in obscurity and not cause a scene? Could he do anything but embarrass all his nearest relations? Deep within he found the whole thing somehow amusing, if only for the consternation it caused his elders; irritating all his nearest relations seemed the only joy he had left in life. On the outside he was all strut and show but within he yearned for meaning and direction and purpose. He was a boat adrift at sea without anchor, rudder, or sail while a storm raged around him with no end in sight. At least he felt as if he had something to look forward to in his nightly carousing though he always came away feeling small and empty and alone as he wandered home to bed in the small hours of the morning.

  Dark were his thoughts that night, darker than his usual wont, for he felt if he continued to do nothing he would soon do something drastic, whether to himself or others he did not know. He said to his companions, “I am tired of this tedious life we live. Let us do something great or terrible, that we might end the tedium and do something to be remembered; even if we do not succeed, it is better to die in the attempt rather than die in obscurity. Shall we be famous or infamous?” His friends laughed drunkenly, for the night was far gone and much wine had passed their lips.

  He continued, “as you will not choose I shall have the honor then. Let us be infamous! There are many failed adventurers and heroes and none know their names. I say let us be remembered in infamy, for a villain never truly dies though he live only in legend. We could be bandit kings but why stoop to such a level when we can reach far higher and take what fate herself has denied us? I say we reach for the crown itself my friends! Let us supplant my brother and even my father the King!”

  He continued to draw heavily from the mug of nameless liquid before him and was lost for many minutes in his treasonous expostulations. Whether he was serious or not, his friends could not tell but his words greatly disturbed them. They continued to listen and ape interest but the plot (what little of it there was, it was mostly grand words and misty aspirations) had quickly sobered them even as it chilled them to the bone. They were as empty inside as the prince but where they were content to enjoy all the privileges their rank could bestow, he had long ago failed to be pleased by such vapid entertainments. He was desperate for something to change and he had almost convinced himself that this was the only way. He finally finished his diatribe and drained his glass. He wandered home and his friends followed at a distance. They saw him safely to bed and then waited sleeplessly for the hour when the King would be abroad.

  After an eon, dawn finally revealed her glory and they saw the crown prince emerge from his chambers; they hurried to tell him of his brother’s embryonic treachery. He listened gravely to the miserable pair; they did not wish to betray their friend, but their friendship was not such that it would be worth their lives if they did not tell and were considered traitors by their silence and seeming complicity. They finished and the crown prince said, “let us to my father that he may hear these ill tidings.”

  They hastened to the King’s chambers, awakened the slumbering monarch, and told again their terrible tale. The King began to fume and rage while the Queen begged him to be reasonable and speak with Bryant first, before calling for his head, which of course started a Royal argument.

  The prince and the two lordlings quickly withdrew from the Royal bedchamber and the prince asked, “is my brother in jest, a drunken fool, or a true traitor?”

  They shook their heads, “my lord, we know him little when he is sober; you had best ask him yourself.”

  The prince said, “I shall.” He turned sharply on his heel and went to find his brother before their father could do something rash. Bryant was not happy to be so awakened, his head throbbed terribly, but he soon quit complaining when his brother told the reason for his visit. The elder said, “father may very well banish you for such talk if he does not simply call for your head! Are you in earnest?”

  Bryant said quietly, “I am not sure, I need something to change and this is as good a scheme as any I can think of.”

  His brother said, “if it had been a drunken jest, perhaps father could be appeased but I am afraid his anger shall fall swiftly and harshly upon you.” Bryant paled, said nothing, grabbed his sword belt and cloak, and fled the room. His brother silently watched him go. He did not wish to see his father’s wrath realized but neither could he acknowledge this cold-hearted stranger as his brother. By the time the argument was settled and the guards were sent to bring the errant boy to face his father, he was long fled.

  Bryant ran for his life. He was astonished to realize that he might perhaps be a murderous fiend if given the chance, at least if it granted him the end he sought. He had hoped it had all been
the ravings of a drunkard but he was horrified to realize that under the right circumstances he might be capable of doing just as he had boasted. He fled his father’s wrath but he could not flee the monster that was his own soul. He ran to the stable, found a saddled horse awaiting his rider, flung himself into the saddle, and galloped out of the courtyard. The servant that had been saddling the beast tried to pursue the prince with warning but to no avail; he had stolen a wild and dangerous animal that was stubborn beyond belief and resistant to even the cruelest methods of training. How he even stayed in the saddle was hard to imagine. He was a magnificent animal and had been brought as a gift to the crown prince by rich merchants as something of bribe, that he might remember them with favor when he succeeded his father. The creature was physically perfect but had a will of iron and would let no man on his back. The prince was the first to attain such a feat and that unknowingly. So they ran, and with the speed of the creature any other horse in the King’s stables would have a hard time catching them. The beast would deign to be led and saddled but would carry neither men nor burdens. The crown prince had ordered him saddled and hoped to break him that very morning, hoping to succeed where all others had failed.

  They ran hard all day on the shortest road out of the country. As night was falling they finally stopped, the prince collapsed against a tree just over the border. His heart sank and his hand reached for his sword as he heard the sound of galloping hooves drawing swiftly nigh. Six of his father’s guards drew rein a bowshot from the prince and one aimed his arrow at the weary boy. The bowstring sang as the prince dove to the ground; the arrow embedded itself in the tree just above where his head had been. The guards then turned and rode off slowly into the dying day. Cautiously the prince stood and pulled the arrow from the tree. He found a small piece of paper attached to the shaft, which read, “know you now that you are henceforth banished from all the domains of Ithamar and all title, privilege, and rank is hereby denied you. If you should ever return, it will be as a criminal and an outlaw and your life is forfeit unless spared by the mercy of the King.”

  Bryant sighed and said to the night air, “I wanted things to change and they have, but not in the way I intended. I am now an exile, a wanderer, an outlaw, a fugitive, with no home, people, or place to call my own. I am a fool.”

  The sweat-lathered horse snorted and said, “you are certainly all of that, as am I, but you need not be a fool.”

  The prince sat down hard in surprise and exhaustion, saying, “horses do not talk.”

  The horse eyed him patiently and said, “perhaps, but then again it may be that just the horses of your acquaintance have never spoken. Either that or I am not a horse.” He snorted wryly in amusement, as if he had said something rather clever.

  Taking the hint, the former prince said, “if you are not a horse, then what are you?”

  The unhorse said, “let us just say I have been banished from amongst my own noble and glorious people and reduced to the state in which you currently find me. I have been stripped of all that makes my people unique and left a mortal nag.”

  The unprince said, “and what did you do to become as you are? Who are your people and where do they come from?”

  The unhorse said, “perhaps one day I shall tell you all the tale but for now you must suffice yourself with what I have already revealed. What of you?”

  The boy sighed, “last night in a drunken rage I spoke of doing terrible things only to awaken and find that all know of my theoretical treachery and that some part of me is not averse to such acts. I can flee my father’s wrath but I cannot run from my own wretchedness.”

  The horse looked at him thoughtfully and said, “until now I have revealed myself to no one, but trapped as I am, I shall go mad if I trust no one and soon shall think myself nothing but a silly horse in truth. Seeing as we are both rebels and outlaws, perhaps we can travel together for a time? I will allow you upon my back in exchange for your aid in keeping me out of the hands of strangers who would happily confiscate a wandering horse as I will seem if I travel alone.”

  The boy laughed weakly, “I admit to you that I am a traitor, willing to do murder and yet I alone of all men am the man you choose to trust?”

  The horse said, “you have not yet killed anyone and the fact that you are horrified at your own thoughts means there is yet some hope for you. We are both rebels and outcasts, perhaps together we can find redemption upon the road. Besides, you are alone and desperate and need me as much as I need you. You shall not get far afoot.”

  “Where then shall we go?” asked the former prince.

  The horse shook his head, “I do not know. Even if I returned to the lands of my people I would not be allowed to or even capable of entering that wondrous land. You have no skills or relations that might benefit you in the wide world?” The boy shook his head. The horse sighed, “then let us go north for now until something draws us elsewhere.” The boy nodded his agreement, for one direction was as good as any other at the moment. They wandered off the road a short distance and the boy was soon asleep.

  Morning came and the boy rose damp and stiff but much refreshed, but he had brought nothing to eat or to start a fire with. Neither did he have a bow. He had his sword and dagger upon his hastily grabbed belt; his belt pouch was full of coins but there was nowhere to buy breakfast. He refreshed himself in a swiftly running creek, saddled the horse, and they were soon off though the boy’s stomach complained bitterly. The horse remarked, “it would be a far easier journey if you could sate yourself with grass as all sensible creatures do.”

  The boy laughed and said, “you are the only sensible herbivore I have ever met. All other creatures that go on four legs have remained thankfully silent.”

  The horse retorted, “that only proves their sense, for only man opens his mouth and makes sounds for no reason. At least doubt remains as to whether the silent beasts are truly fools or not; man has proved himself thus time and time again by his speech.”

  About midday they stopped in a small village and the boy purchased what he would need for the journey and some much appreciated food. They continued on until nightfall at which point, the boy made a rough camp as the horse wandered off for his nightly meal. They continued on in this manner for several days and nothing truly remarkable happened. They were traveling north through Sebeka: the neighboring Kingdom to Ithamar, a peaceful and prosperous country that welcomed strangers and most especially their coin.

  The horse said one day as they rode along, “what know you of happenings in the wide world?”

  The boy said, “I paid little attention to world events, current or historic, save for a little about our closest neighbors. Now I begin to regret my inattention to my studies, for now I see the use of them when previously I thought it all nonsense.”

  The horse said, “I know little of the countries of men, but I shall tell you what I know of your world in general. It is a vast place and there are many kings and kingdoms; some are prosperous and peaceful, others are evil and warlike, and there are all shades between. There is also much unclaimed and wild land wherein all manner of beasts and folk strange to men are to be found. Much of what you consider myth or legend is actually true and flourishes in such places. In the far south dwells an Evil Prince with much sway in the world. His minions ride wherever they will and do as they please, causing much grief amongst innocent folk. His kingdom is called the Infernal Realm and is separated from all else by impassable mountains, though any who wish can freely enter his gates. All is sere and waste within a hundred miles of those vile peaks and he holds sway over all within their shadow. Many of the Kings closest to his domain are his vassals and nearly as vile as he. He is a rebel against the Great King, who dwells far to the north in the Brightlands and once was His greatest servant. A great chasm in the earth, called the Rift by men, separates those dear lands from all others.”

  He continued, “i
t is said that the Rift is a actually a rift in time and space, having no bottom. No mortal can cross that chasm save by the will of the Great King or His dear Son, the True Prince whose will is always that of His Father. It is from the Blessed Mountains that rim the Brightlands that my own kin come and from thence was I banished. Between the Brightlands and the Infernal Realm are the Grey Lands, in which mortal men dwell and that encompass all you know as real. It is in this strange plane that you are born, live, and die. After you pass the gates of death you must enter either the Brightlands, if you are a willing subject of the Great King, else you come under the dominion of the Dark Prince and you will never more come forth from the Infernal Realms. One day the Great King will reclaim the Grey Lands and forever banish the Dark Prince beyond his own mountains and seal the gate that none may pass out again. Then will all the world be as it was meant to be, before rebellion brought death and sorrow upon the face of the earth.”

  The boy paled, “I have heard stories and legends of such things but never thought them more than tales. You tell me this is the truth! Whatever is a rebel of my standing to do? Am I doomed to dwell in that terrible place for all eternity?”

  The horse shook his head, “I am a rebel myself and doomed to the same fate unless we can find a way out. My people are immortal, true and willing servants to the Great King, but alas I refused the duty He asked of me and I was thus banished. We never spoke of redemption, for we had no need of such a concept, but on these shattered shores on which I find myself the need is truly great. We must seek out one who can tell us this mystery.”

  The boy nodded glumly and hoped with all his heart that a way could be found out of this pit of his own making. At least he knew now why they rode north; he had no wish to be nearer those awful lands than he absolutely had to be. “What or who are we looking for?” asked the boy.

  The horse said, “there are supposedly men abroad, servants of the Great King, knowledgeable in all things pertaining to Him and His dealings with fallen men. It is one of these learned men that we seek, to learn what must be done to redeem ourselves.”

  “Where are such folk to be found?” asked the boy.

  The horse snorted in laughter, “an excellent question. I know little of mortal lands and know only what I have personally observed since my arrival in this dismal sphere and that which I have overheard men speak in my presence. Sadly, I seem to know more than you who were born in this place.”

  The boy nodded glumly, ashamed of all he had failed to learn in his life and of all the time he had spent drowning himself in a mug of ale. The boy said, “perhaps instead of isolating ourselves of an evening, I should visit the local tavern and see if I cannot learn something of these mystics you speak of?”

  The horse nodded in approval, “an excellent proposition.” They stopped early that evening, for they would not reach the next village before dark. The horse said to the boy, “be careful, for there are men who do not hold the Great King in high favor. The Dark Prince has spies and servants everywhere.”

  The boy smiled slightly, “you are worried for my safety?”

  The horse smiled, “let us just say it would be a far more difficult journey alone.” The boy’s smile deepened as he entered the inn while the horse wandered off into the night.

  The boy took a seat far to the back and watched quietly from his private corner. The innkeeper eyed him speculatively but said nothing, for he caused no trouble. The boy watched the quiet conversations, tavern games, and the comings and goings of the various patrons. He marked out several shady looking characters but saw no one who seemed an ideal source of information. Full dark fell outside the grimy windows as a ragged traveler traipsed into the inn and wandered to the back of the common room. He surveyed the men scattered about the establishment and his eyes fell upon the boy, obviously a fellow stranger in this place. He made his way to the back and asked if he might share the boy’s small table. The boy was intrigued by the stranger and nodded eagerly. The man took a seat, the serving girl brought him a bowl of stew and some bread, and as he ate his meal he said, “what brings you to this place lad? One does not often see such youngsters wandering alone, save perhaps a few adventurous lads looking to be heroes.”

  The boy said, “I wander because I must. My past is behind and all my unknown future lies ahead. I seek hope in a hopeless world and peace for a disquiet heart.”

  The man smiled secretively and said quietly, “the world is not quite as hopeless as you might think, though sometimes it is dangerous to speak of that which is a light in even the darkest night. I am willing to speak with you but perhaps in a place less obvious?”

  The boy nodded gravely and said, “my companion and I have ridden far in search of such knowledge. We are both wanderers seeking rest. What do you suggest?”

  The man smiled, “let me finish my meal and then we shall talk for a time of trivialities to allay the suspicions of all here. Then you can wander off into the night and I shall follow when convenient. Wait for me along the road but well out of sight.” The boy nodded and they proceeded as planned.

  Half an hour after the boy had gone, the man trudged wearily out into the dark, a man obviously too poor to afford a bed in such a place. A few eyed him speculatively but returned to their drinks, seeing nothing obviously to their benefit in yet another penniless traveler. The man wandered out into the road and waited silently until the boy crawled out of hiding and drew his attention. They vanished down an overgrown trail into a little clearing. The moon stood high and gave enough light to cast their faces into shadow. “Where is your companion?” asked the curious man. The boy smiled silently in amused anticipation as a horse stepped out of the shadowed woods and stopped before the man, looking at him as if awaiting some reply. The man looked from the horse to the boy and back again.

  “Well?” asked the horse, “I have been told that this little interlude shall be worth missing part of my evening repast.”

  The man gaped, “I have not had the pleasure of meeting a talking horse before, unless of course you are not actually a horse?”

  The horse smiled in pleasure, “finally a man with some sense! Long have I hoped to meet such a specimen. I of course am no horse, save perhaps in appearance. And who pray tell are you and how come you to know more of wisdom than most men I have encountered?”

  The man smiled in amusement and said, “who I am is of no particular import, save that I am a servant of the Great King and have seen many strange and wonderful things in my wanderings on His behalf. And who might you be, my curious friends?”

  The horse snorted in amusement, “who we are matters as little as your identity. But know we are outcasts and rebels, seeking forgiveness and a brighter future. We have high hopes that you might be able to tell us of such things.”

  The man nodded, “as are all who roam these Grey Lands. What know you of the state of the world and that which lies beyond?”

  The horse said, “we know of the Great King and the sundering of all those who have rebelled against Him, including the Dark Prince and all mankind. We seek to know if there is any way to restore what has been lost. Can a creature sundered from its Maker by rebellion and iniquity be restored to fellowship with Him?”

  The man smiled, “that is the question that wrings the heart of all mortal creatures. A creature in willing rebellion against his King cannot do aught to redeem himself. For what is the worth of anything we can do of ourselves? Our greatest and noblest deeds are nothing but soiled rags to the Great King yet the least of our sins cuts His great heart like a knife.”

  The horse sighed, “then all is lost?”

  The man smiled joyfully and said, “thankfully, no. We cannot redeem ourselves but One greater than us has paid the price for our folly; all we need do is accept the King’s pardon on His behalf and live our lives in accordance with the will of our new Lord and Master.”

  The horse looked st
artled, “who could bear such a burden and yet be acceptable to the King?”

  The man said grimly, “it was the King’s own Son who bore the penalty of our rebellion, and for a moment even His own Father could not look upon Him for the shame He bore. He willingly left the Brightlands to dwell in infamy among mortals, only to meet a cruel and humiliating end and to give, as it seemed, a great victory to the Vile Prince, but that was not the end of the story. He overthrew death itself, bore the curse each of us should have borne ourselves, and was restored to His proper place beside His Father. The Vile Prince was dealt a mortal blow that shall one day be made complete when the True Prince returns in triumph to overthrow evil and death forever.”

  The boy said, “why would such a great and mighty Prince do that for the weak and wretched of the earth when He could dwell untroubled in glory?”

  The man said in awe, “that is the mystery and the beauty of it. Some call it love, but such a love no mortal mind can comprehend. What will you make of this tale you have just heard? Will you go your way laughing at the foolishness of an old man while seeming to tolerate me while in my presence or will you take my tale as truth and give your life that you might save it?”

  The boy asked nervously, “what must I do to accept this great offer?”

  The man smiled and said, “simply repent of your evil in the name of the Son and seek to live your life according to the Father’s will.”

  The boy frowned, “and how will I know His will?”

  The man smiled, “you will know. If you are in earnest, the King’s Spirit will be with and help you to know good from evil, right from wrong. You must seek out that which is good and noble and beautiful and pure. Flee that which is evil, ignoble, dishonest, wicked, selfish, and impure. Love all men as you love yourself and love the King with all that is within you.”

  “And what of me?” asked the horse.

  “What of you?” asked the man, “you are a sapient creature in rebellion against the Great King and therefore capable of seeking His gift of redemption to Himself.”

  The horse said sadly, “but I have dwelt in the Blessed Mountains, across the River which mortal men call the Rift. I am one of the Pegassi and banished to dwell a mortal horse in these sad lands for refusing that for which my race is bred. Can even I seek this gift?”

  The man smiled gently, “that you can ask that question and worry about its answer should be answer enough. Seek the King and I think you have nothing to fear. Were you yet of a stubborn and proud heart and refused His gift, I think there would be no hope, but yet your heart is supple, humble, and willing. I have no fear for you.”

  The horse was stunned, “how come you to know my sin?”

  The man smiled ruefully, “the root of all sin is pride and selfishness. For that is the crime of the Dark Prince and Enemy of the Great King. A humble and meek heart is hardly capable of such aspirations.”

  The boy then asked, “and what shall I do with my life once I have accepted the King as Lord and Master? Must I become a wandering raconteur like you?”

  The man laughed, “perhaps that will be your duty but perhaps not. There are many things the King’s servants are called to do. You will know in your heart that which you must do if you fervently ask it of the King. You say you are a rebel and an outlaw? I would advise you to return to the place from whence you have fled and face the justice that is due you and the forgiveness of those you have wronged. Only then can you seek what life has in store.”

  The boy was aghast, “I thought accepting the Son freed me from all iniquity and the penalties attendant thereunto.”

  The man smiled sadly, “He frees us from the eternal penalties for such actions but we must yet face the mortal consequences of our actions while life lasts. You cannot be right with the King if you are not right with your brothers.”

  The boy was stunned, “how did you know I had wronged my brother?”

  The man smiled, “I meant your fellow men not just your male siblings. Go home and make things right child and remember to forgive others as you seek to be forgiven.”

  They talked long into the night but finally succumbed to exhaustion. They parted company in the morning, each continuing on his own journey, missing the other as if losing a dear friend though they had known each other only for a few hours. The horse, Erian by name, chose to accompany the boy home, that he might make amends to his father and brother and face whatever justice they chose to mete out. The traveler went on his way to seek out those who, like his former companions, were desperate for the truths he carried.

  The journey was swiftly made, the boy was not happy to perhaps be facing death but felt such a peace and purpose within himself that he did not fear the future, even if it meant his demise. The horse did not wish to go back into captivity but he and the boy had discussed it and if things went ill with the boy, the horse could easily escape once someone took him out of the great walled city for a ride in the country. If the boy survived the encounter with his father and was not imprisoned for life, they thought to seek the Master’s will for their lives together. Erian never thought to develop such an attachment to a human but was happy to again have a friend, though he dreaded what end the boy might meet at the hands of his own kin. He had rather come to enjoy their time together and hoped he would not soon be alone again. Finally they crossed the borders into Ithamar and would soon face the wrath of the King. It was not long before six soldiers in the uniform of the Royal Guard came upon them. They were stunned to learn who the lonely stranger was and wasted no time in drawing their swords to take the rebel and traitor.

  The boy drew his own sword and dagger, but only to throw them to the ground and then placed his hands on his head in surrender. The captain nearly fell out of his saddle in wonder but feared the boy might be trying his hand at some trick. He ordered his men forward and they surrounded the boy with swords bared. The captain searched the boy, cruelly bound his hands behind his back, and took the reins of the ‘silly horse.’ One of his men retrieved the boy’s weapons and they set out in triumph for the city. They said nothing to the rebel, save to mock him in his shameful return; the boy refrained from speaking. They entered the city and the citizens mocked and jeered as he passed while cheering the brave soldiers who had captured the renegade. The King had widely publicized the incident and its consequences, and the boy was already unpopular with the citizenry after his many intoxicated adventures in the city’s various inns. They arrived in the courtyard of the castle, many were the servants and guards who for a moment stood about in abject shock, before hustling off to inform the King of his ignominious guest. The boy slid form his saddle under the watchful eyes of a dozen armed men; he smiled sheepishly at the horse, who whinnied in reassurance as he was led away to the stables.

  The boy was taken to meet his father with all the court and his entire family looking on. The boy stood before their Majesties, head bowed and tears burning in his eyes. The King wore a grim look while his mother’s eyes held silent shame and horror that one of her own children could be so terrible. The King said in a voice like thunder in the hills, “what have you to say for yourself? I half expected you to return with an enemy army, come to force your point, if you returned at all.”

  The boy could stand it no longer, and fell to his knees before his father as the court gasped in amazement. The King’s jaw dropped and for the first time hope lit the Queen’s face. The boy said, “I fled a proud and foolish boy. I return in shame and dishonor, but duty bids me to return and face what my shameful acts have earned.”

  “Duty?” scoffed the King, “what know you of duty?”

  The boy wept openly, “I know very little Sire, but I could not go on living knowing your wrath yet hung over my head. Know that I am guilty of all that you have heard. I am also guilty of living wantonly and selfishly, with no regard for any save myself. I return to you a broken and humbled child. Forgive my id
iocy and irreverent thoughts and deeds. Let justice be met in your eyes, as well as in the eyes of the court and all the citizens of Ithamar.”

  The King gaped, “you are my son, are you not?” The boy met his father’s befuddled gaze; the man saw the truth of the boy’s words written in eyes, red with weeping. The King shook his head and said, “I threatened you with death should you have the gall to return, but I also spoke of the possibility of mercy. Tell me truly, is this drastic change of heart real or simply a ploy to spare your life?”

  The boy said, “my life is yours to take if you will it thus. This shattered wretch you see before you is the man I have become in my absence; it is no act.”

  The King shook his head, “and what has engendered such a change? You fled a traitor and return an honorable man that I would not be ashamed to call my son.”

  The boy smiled weakly and said, “I have discovered that there is more to life than my own selfish and empty desires. I have found Him who can forgive my past and shortcomings and Who enables me to become more than I could ever aspire to be. I am a servant of the Great King and His blessed Son.”

  At this admission the whole court was suddenly in uproar. They of course had heard the tales and thought them all stories and wishful thinking, for there could be no Great King any more than there was a Dark Prince or unicorns or griffins. Such things were simply bedtime tales to teach children morality and hasten them to sleep and nothing more. The King was enraged, “I begin to offer you mercy and you dare blame your radical transformation on children’s tales?”

  The boy said quietly, “they are not stories Sire, they are the truth and the only hope for mankind. Am I not living proof of their power?”

  The King shook his head, satisfied that the boy did not mock him, but fearful that he was a lunatic. Finally he said, “I have stripped you of all rank and title and this I cannot and will not restore. However, seeing your change of heart, I will spare you from death. You may come and go freely within Ithamar and all its domains but only as a commoner. You have no rank or privilege among the nobility unless one of us cares to humor you for a time. What say you?”

  The boy stood and said, “it is more than I deserve Majesty, you can lawfully do with me as you please. I thank you for your mercy.” He bowed deeply and all the court gasped again. Most would rather face death than live stripped of rank and privilege as the boy felt inclined to do.

  The King smiled slightly, “you may at least call me father once more. That is the one privilege I shall not revoke. You will never inherit my throne but you are still my son. For once I can say that I am not ashamed of you.”

  The family then withdrew to a private room to discuss things further, leaving the court to gossip amongst themselves, while wild rumors spread like wildfire through the servants, guards, and townsfolk. The joyful Queen enthusiastically greeted her errant son. The King embraced the boy a bit stiffly but gradually warmed to the idea. His younger siblings were ecstatic. His elder brother smiled warmly and welcomed home a brother he could finally be proud of, if in a strange way.

  “So,” said the King, “what are your plans now that you have a future?”

  The boy smiled ruefully and said, “I think I shall remain in Ithamar for a time telling all who will listen of the grace that was granted me. Meanwhile I hope to discover of what service I can be to the King.”

  The King was quite pleased, “all you need do is ask my dear son.”

  The boy said quietly, “I am sorry father, but I was not speaking of your grace, though I am very thankful for it; I was speaking of the Great King and what His Son has done for us all. It is Him I must now serve with all my being.”

  The King gaped, “men will think you mad! You will be shunned and perhaps beaten or killed if you proclaim such things openly. Can you not abandon this nonsense? You have been restored to life; why court death once more?”

  The boy said, “What I once called life was but a living death. How now can I abandon Him who restored me to true life? I will not return to being half alive now that I have tasted of true life even though I die for it. I know it to be true and I would gladly give my life in service to my Lord. Men may think what they wish but I care only for my Master’s opinion.” He bowed politely and left the room, leaving his entire family quite stunned.

  His mother spoke quietly with her husband and then hurried after her son. She found him sitting quietly in one of the gardens and said, “your father has agreed to house you in the servants’ quarters, though how long his favor will last if you persist in your current way of thinking I do not know. I am glad you have found your peace and it gives me much to think about and stirs great hope within me. Tell me more.” And he did.

  He stayed in the palace for a day or two but no one wanted to be preached at by the hypocritical and half-mad boy as they thought him; those who were curious found themselves silenced by fear of what others might think. The boy then moved into the city with his message and there found a few who listened but more who mocked, jeered, or even showered him with rotten produce. He became something of a local joke and people began to think him mad in truth to tolerate such treatment day by day and wondered that he did not stop and become ‘rational,’ at least as they saw it. Erian accompanied him often on these forays, being ill at ease in the palace stables alone. After one such afternoon the horse remarked, “a prophet is not without honor, save in his hometown.”

  Bryant cocked an eyebrow and smiled saying, “a sage piece of advice my friend and just who did you steal it from?”

  The horse did his best to shrug and said, “I suppose I heard it once somewhere but who is to say it is not of my own making?”

  They shared a much needed laugh and turned back towards the castle, when an aura of fear froze them in their tracks. The townsfolk also seemed to sense the terror and cowered where they stood, shrunk behind doorways and walls, or fled. A thing that looked a man, all in black armor with embers for eyes and naked bones under a thin veiling of translucent skin, barely visible beneath the metal carapace, rode ominously down the street upon some terrible creature that was equine in shape, but draconian in feature with claws for feet, a scaled hide, and a mouth full of terrible teeth. The black rider looked over the cowering townsfolk disdainfully, as a woman might a dead mouse in her pantry. Even a trio of the King’s guards stepped back in dread as those eyes fell upon them.

  Finally the roving gaze fell upon the boy. The fell beast stopped and the rider looked upon the boy; one could feel his terrible smile hidden beneath the faceplate of the helmet. The boy felt that gaze and knew what it meant to be utterly hated. Erian’s head was down and he trembled in terror. The creature moved towards the horse and his rider and when close enough, the dark apparition reached out and grabbed the frozen boy and plucked him from Erian’s saddle. The boy’s terror turned to desperation not to be captured by the wraith, he fought and struggled vainly against the inhumanly strong arm that clutched him; he might as well have tried to move a mountain.

  “Stop struggling wretch,” growled a voice like a wind from a winter tomb. A chill breath from the fell form touched the boy’s face and he went cold and limp as one dead. The vile rider produced a length of dark cord and bound the boy hand and foot; he turned his dreadful mount and rode out of the city with the boy tied across the croup of his saddle. The city seemed to breath a sigh of relief with the apparition gone, all were silently thankful it had not come for them. Erian recovered himself enough to follow the vile pair at a distance but had little hope of freeing his friend. He had heard rumors of such things before but had hoped never to see one with his own eyes; what could a Dreadlord want with the boy? Certainly the deadliest and most vile servants of the Dark Prince could have no love for the servants of the Great King but why waste such a valuable resource on one boy? He wished that he had tried to protect his friend when the vile thing had come for him, but he knew all he could h
ave done was die in vain.

  They traveled day and night, never stopping for rest or water as the vile rider pressed ever south. Erian was exhausted and faint but refused to slacken in his pursuit lest he lose any chance of rescuing Bryant, though as the miles passed his hope quickly faded. Prisoners of the Dark Lord did not live long and the time left them was filled with such misery and torment that they welcomed death when it finally came. On the brink of collapse, the Pegassi thought he was hallucinating when he saw a griffin (another creature he had hoped never to encounter personally) silently stoop out of the sky, unhorse the loathsome rider, and carry the boy bodily away (after a brief struggle with the cord securing him to the riding beast). The Dreadlord stood, watched the predator wing swiftly north and vanish beyond the horizon, he seemed to laugh to himself, and then rode off to trouble further innocents.

  Erian finally collapsed upon the road from shock and exhaustion. The griffin flew back to its lair high atop a bluff overlooking a great river that flowed through that forested hill country. The boy finally stirred, though he had barely drawn breath for two days while in the Dreadlord’s clutches. The first thing he saw was the great beaky maw open above him; he struggled vainly against his bonds to be free of this new terror. The creature seemed to find his victim’s ordeal amusing and lowered his head, closing the gaping beak upon his original target: the boy’s bonds. Seeing the creature did not mean to make a meal of him (at least immediately), the boy relaxed and waited to see what strange adventure had flung itself upon him.

  “Now,” said the griffin, once he had freed his prisoner, “tell me what a Dreadlord would want with the likes of you?”

  The boy looked at the creature in astonishment as he sat up and began working life back into his hands and feet. He said, “you are not going to devour me? I did not think griffins real and if they were, I thought them all monsters. I did not even know what a Dreadlord was until I saw that thing, if that is indeed what it is called? I know even less of what interest it would have in me. What is a Dreadlord anyway?”

  The creature laughed, “if I were going to eat you I certainly would have been about it already. Many of my kind are cruel and devious creatures, some have become little more than ravaging beasts in mind as well as habit. But there are a few of us who fear the King and thus keep His laws. Griffins are quite real my young friend, as I am certainly proof; much of what you might consider legend lives and breathes and roams the earth. As for Dreadlords, you certainly made a closer study of the abominable things than most have and none I know have lived to tell the tale if they had. They are the dearest servants of the Enemy: evil men of vile intention sometimes go to the gates of the Infernal Realm seeking such power. They are always allowed to enter but none know which ever emerge, for they all look the same and there is no way to differentiate one from another. Those so chosen undergo terrible rituals to enter a living death. No mortal blade can injure them. Few mortal hearts can stand against the fear they inspire and no mortal horse.”

  The boy said, “is there any hope for mortal man if the Enemy has such servants?”

  The griffin continued, “thankfully there are only ever seven of the creatures abroad at a time. Those who seek such service are more often denied the terrible honor they demand and are made Soldiers instead: a less terrible but certainly evil servant of the Enemy, with few thoughts of their own and almost completely under the control of the Dreadlords, though there are certainly more of them about. They never go about alone thankfully, save in the shadow of the Mountains of Night on the borders of the Infernal Realm. Otherwise they are always in the company of a Dreadlord for they are quite helpless without. You have seen the vile mounts of the Dreadlords, but the Soldiers ride what appear to be mortal horses but so mutilated and wretched that they seem to share in their masters’ living death. While mortals may tremble in the presence of these dread servants of the Enemy, the King has not left us alone, for there are those who have the power to oppose them. This does not guarantee a rescue but it gives hope to an otherwise hopeless situation. I take it from the Dreadlord’s interest in you that you are a servant of the King?”

  The boy nodded in awe and horror at what he had just heard. The griffin mused, “usually they would kill outright such a bothersome pest as they would see you. Why go to all the trouble of carrying you back to his vile master? They will carry back the more famous or effective servants of the King in hopes of turning them away from the King or at least giving them a miserable death. What was a Dreadlord doing in the middle Kingdoms anyway? They are usually found in the south, in lands more firmly in the sway of the Dark One. What were you up to when the thing found you?”

  The boy said, “I was trying to touch the hard hearted people of Ithamar and was having little effect.”

  The griffin laughed, “Ithamar! You certainly set yourself an impossible task! They are quite a hard headed people and no one has been able to penetrate their hearts of stone in many long years. They consider the King and everything outside the bounds of man myth! I wonder what the appearance of a Dreadlord among them might do? He might make more of a dent in their proud hearts than a hundred years of preaching ever could, else he may drive them further into their stubborn assertions that mankind is all there is and ever was. What made you choose Ithamar?” The boy smiled ruefully and told his story.

  The griffin was astonished, “that is quite a tale. I doubt it would be a good idea for you to return home but perhaps this presents an opportunity for another to try his hand. The Dreadlord would certainly return for you, once they lay claim to a victim they will not rest in their pursuit until he is utterly destroyed. Thankfully your captor will think you dead by my claws. Your people are also not apt to listen to you but perhaps this incident will soften their hearts and open their minds enough for a stranger to succeed where a local son is mocked. This could be quite a breakthrough for the King. The middle Kingdoms, such as Ithamar, are notorious for their skepticism while the southern kingdoms are steeped in evil and those to the north are nearly lost to pride, self-righteousness, and legalism, thinking themselves the sole servants of the King when they are in truth far from Him.”

  “What then should I do?” asked the boy.

  The griffin smiled, “that I cannot say. You must find whatever it is the King would have you do in His service. Fear not, for a willing heart will certainly find its way though it will not necessarily be a pleasant or easy task.”

  The boy smiled, “I know already that the King’s message is not that popular among most folk!” He paled, “what of my family who think me dead or worse? What became of Erian?”

  The griffin cocked his head, “I was going to tell one of the Wanderers, the King’s servants who wander from place to place telling others of the King, that perhaps he should visit Ithamar. I shall ask him to give tidings of your safety to your family. Who is Erian?”

  The boy looked both relieved and worried, wondering how much of Erian’s tale he dared tell the griffin. He said, “he is my friend and former companion in exile until I returned home from my brief wanderings. He was with me when the Dreadlord came but I knew nothing more until I awoke here.”

  The griffin said, “I saw no other men.”

  The boy said with some amusement, “he is not a man but appears a horse, though that is not his true lineage.” The griffin looked skeptical; the boy laughed and said, “I shall let him tell his tale if we can find him. I do not think the Dreadlord recognized him for a thinking creature and thus spared him nor do I think he was long in pursuit.”

  The griffin shook his head, “Dreadlords require neither food nor rest nor water and can press on at great speed relentlessly. A horse would not last long in such a chase, but we shall seek your friend upon the road. Come, climb upon my back.” Bryant did as he was bidden and climbed onto the creature’s back, clinging tightly that he not fall. The creature leapt into the air and winged his way towards
the road.

  They had not far to go from the place the griffin had encountered the Dreadlord, for they found Erian collapsed beside the road, caked with sweat and dust, and breathing heavily. The griffin had hardly landed before the boy leapt from his back and ran to his prone friend. A water skin was yet secured to the saddle and Bryant used some of the precious fluid to revive his friend. The horse felt the cold water on his face and started awake. He would have fallen in shock had he not already been down when he saw his friend alive and well with a curious griffin at his shoulder. He shook himself all over and struggled to his feet.

  He said weakly, “we had best get off the road and I desperately need a drink.” Slowly he made his way under the cover of the trees where they happily found a small brook chattering merrily in the midst of the glade He drank as much as he dared, the boy helped him off with his tack, rubbed him down with handfuls of grass, and then he gratefully lay down once more. “Now,” said the horse, “tell me how it is you are alive after an encounter with both a griffin and a Dreadlord?” The boy told as much as he knew of the tale.

  Then the griffin asked, “how is it that a seeming horse can talk?”

  The horse eyed him skeptically but was grateful for his rescue of the boy and also his having refrained from killing them both, so Erian said, “it is quite true that I am only a horse in form. By birth I am one of the Pegassi, but I was banished from that noble people for my arrogance and have since been humbled and returned to the King’s service, but still remain in this lesser form, probably unto death. Learn well my friend the price of rebellion against our Great Lord.”

  The griffin nodded grimly and then said, “I must be off on other errands now that you are both relatively safe, but I shall return and check on you soon.” He was suddenly gone and the boy and horse exchanged a wondering look.

  They stayed in that place for several days while Erian recovered his strength. The griffin returned occasionally to chat and often brought the boy a rabbit or some part of a deer. The horse lived quite well on the local vegetation. Finally Erian felt ready to be on the road once more and asked, “where shall we go next, my dear and reckless friend? Since your father’s kingdom is not a place we can go, where then shall our road take us?”

  The boy looked to the griffin, who shook his head, “I am of little use to either of you in this matter I am afraid. I have spoken to one of the local Wanderers and he was quite eager to attend to the strange needs of Ithamar.”

  The boy sighed, “I know little of the world. How am I to know my place in it?”

  The horse snorted, “at least you were born to it.”

  The boy suddenly remembered what the griffin had said at their first meeting and brightened as he asked, “you once mentioned that there were those servants of the King who could fight against the Dreadlords and the other fell servants of the Enemy. Who are they and how are they chosen?” The horse and griffin looked at him in astonishment and then exchanged an incomprehensible look: the griffin one of surprise and the horse one of dread.

  The griffin said, “they are called the Messengers and I know little of them. I thought perhaps your friend would have told you more of them.”

  The Pegassi shifted from foot to foot and looked at the ground. The griffin and the boy were silent but looked at him expectantly until he said, “it was for this very reason that I was exiled from my home and people. The service my people render the King is to bear His servants into battle against the Enemy’s fell minions. I was asked to serve but refused in stubbornness and pride, unwilling to bear a man upon my back, even for so noble a cause and under so great a banner. I know nothing more of these men than the name and that my people serve as their faithful mounts. Now I am but a mere horse and bear willingly a boy of no renown and we ride alone. If only I had done as I was asked I would not be alone and would have a noble cause and my Lord’s pleasure.”

  The boy was wide eyed in amazement and said, “I think it is to this that I am called. I would seek them out and join them if I am allowed. You need not join me in my quest if it discomfits you my friend.”

  The horse laughed ruefully, “you faced your past and now I must face mine. I will accompany you on this adventure, even if I must part from you at its end, for a mere horse can be of no service to such folk.” The boy embraced the horse’s neck in thanks.

  The griffin said, “may the King guide your steps my friends. We are all soldiers in this war and each of us serves in our own way. Until we meet again.” He took to the air and they saw him no more.

  The boy asked as he climbed into the saddle, “of which war does he speak?”

  The horse laughed, “did you not know these are embattled lands and have been since the dawn of time? Since the Enemy revolted, he has waged war against the King and with the rebellion of man and various other inhabitants of creation, it has been all out war between good and evil across the whole scope of time and space and even beyond. We are all in a battle even if most do not know it. You have declared yourself for the King and therefore are an enemy of the Dark Prince. Those who have not declared for the King are in the Enemy’s clutches, as much as his most devoted and intentional servants.”

  The boy said, “I thought the King had already won?”

  The horse snorted, “He has, but the Enemy has not yet been overthrown and cast forever beyond his blighted mountains. The war rages on and a defeated and desperate foe fights all the harder. Though it might seem like the fiend is winning, in the grand scheme of things he has already lost. That is why it is so important that all are told of the Great War that they might choose on which side to fight rather than fall victim to ignorance and the lies of the Enemy.”

  The boy asked, “but what is the prize in this war? I doubt the Enemy cares much for land or riches.”

  The horse said grimly, “he cares for nothing of the sort. It is a war for the souls of all sapient creatures. The Enemy will use all within his power to destroy, corrupt, and discredit the servants of the King and to keep all others ignorant, skeptical, or disdainful of the Son and His sacrifice on our behalf.”

  “It seems an impossible fight,” said the boy.

  The horse laughed, “it would be, save our Lord is master of all we consider impossible and He is quite capable of succeeding in such a feat.”

  The boy smiled, no longer fearing the outcome of the ancient war, though his part in it was still hidden from him. They traveled north once more, not wishing to draw any closer to the Infernal Realms or the southern countries so steeped in evil, tyranny, war, and despotism. They skirted Ithamar, not wishing to enter again into those lands lest they draw the Dreadlord’s attention once more.

  “Where exactly are we going?” asked the boy one day as they rode along.

  The horse said, “we are seeking information about these Messengers of yours so we had best ask someone who might actually know something. Else we could spend the rest of our lives in fruitless search.”

  The boy asked, “and who knows anything of that mysterious folk? Even the griffin was ignorant of anything concerning them and he is a long lived beast.”

  The Pegassi said, “there are creatures yet older that roam the earth, though most are apathetic or even hostile towards the King. There are perhaps a few who are His servants and knowledgeable in such lore.”

  The boy asked, “and who might that be?”

  The horse said quietly, “perhaps a dragon, elf, or unicorn can provide us with an answer, for some of them are old as time itself.”

  The boy asked, “I thought all creatures within the Grey Lands were mortal?”

  The horse said, “all are mortal in that they can die but that does not necessarily mean that all creatures have a similar lifespan. Certain races do not have a set lifespan and will live until physically slain or until the end of time. Some of the Fairyfolk, as you would call all non-human, half-legendary creatures as I have j
ust named, were those who originally forsook the lands of the King, crossed the River, and made a life for themselves away from their Maker. The original parents of men rebelled against the King and were banished from paradise to these Grey Lands where their offspring multiplied and flourished. Of the other races, save the Pegassi, only a portion of their forebears willingly chose to leave their perfect home and find a life away from their King that they might rule themselves. Thus did the Fairyfolk come into the world and yet do some of their folk dwell across the River within the Realm of the King. The choice is given to all their children, as it is to the children of men, to return to the service of the King or dwell forever in darkness once time or life fails. Some of them choose to serve the King and most of these are shunned by their folk, thus do they cross the River and return to their kin in happier climes. This of course can only be for those races that do not have a set lifespan. Those with a set lifetime must wait for death to take them or the Last Day to come before they are allowed to cross the River.”

  “What if we come upon a dragon that is unfriendly to the King?” asked the boy.

  The horse said, “we will die and no longer need worry about our role in this war, for we shall meet the King face to face. But do not worry, most of the unfriendliest dragons dwell in the Mountains of Night along with all sorts of other nasty things fond of evil and darkness. However, most of the Fairyfolk are not fond of men, no matter their feelings towards the King (save those who serve Him). It will certainly be an adventure but the only way I can think of to learn that which you wish to know. We can always try something less dangerous?”

  The boy smiled, “no, my heart is set on this course. Let us accomplish it or die trying.” The horse frisked eagerly and increased their pace. “Where exactly are we going to find these Fairyfolk?” asked the boy.

  The horse said, “I do not know exactly but they dwell in the unclaimed wildlands in all parts of the world, save the far north and the wastelands of the south. They wish to be nowhere near either the Enemy or the King or even simple men for that matter. They wish simply to be left alone.” They traveled for many days, speaking to strangers upon the road and at inns of an evening. Most thought them mad to be seeking such folk but told what tales they knew. They gained little information of use. Finally civilization was left far behind and they found themselves traveling little used cart paths and occasional game trails through the uncharted forests in the northeast of the world. Men were few in this region and most wished to be left to themselves.

  The boy asked as they entered those unpeopled lands, “are the tales of moving trees and river spirits true?”

  The horse laughed, “the trees and water are the same as in other lands. Some of the folk in these wild places have habits, talents, and ways that are strange to mortal men and thus construed as ‘magic,’ but there are truly villains who summon evil powers from the Enemy and we must be wary of such evil mages, sorcerers, and witches, for there are none of that sort that serve the King.” The boy nodded grimly and they continued on their way.

  In these forgotten lands there were small villages and scattered clusters of farms, but they were few and far between and vulnerable to any renegades who wished to prey upon them. All were distrustful of strangers in such a place. They pressed onward into the heart of nowhere in their search for answers. One night the boy chose a small clearing along a rushing stream as his campsite and the horse said, “tonight I shall wander alone and seek out any of these peculiar folk who might be abroad. I fear your presence frightens them away. Thus far I have not strayed far, for fear some foul thing might fall upon you, but we have yet had no success in our quest. Do you fear to remain alone?”

  The boy said, “we might wander forever else. You had best do as you say.” The horse nodded, bid his friend ado, and vanished into the forest. The boy made a light supper of the small fish he had caught in the stream and settled down for the night. He awoke to find the clearing alight with the bright glow of the gibbous moon overhead and saw to his awe and terror, a unicorn on the edge of the glade eyeing him balefully. The creature saw the boy awake and knew that he had been seen. The boy dared not reach for the sword that lay close to hand but met the gaze of the magnificent beast before him.

  The creature said, “you are far from the lands of men boy and trespass in the rightful domain of the Elven Kings; your life is justly forfeit.”

  The boy said, “what right have you to take a life simply because we have wandered unknowingly into your realm?”

  The unicorn snorted in disgust, “most men rightfully fear to tread this forgotten ground. The ruler of a land has the right to make the laws as he sees fit.”

  “Perhaps such reasoning works for the Dark Prince and ignorant men, but I did not expect to hear such inanity from a creature of your age and supposed wisdom,” said a new voice.

  The unicorn glowered at the plainly clad man who had silently entered the clearing during the discussion. The unicorn growled, “stay out of this. You have no part in it. Be gone!”

  The man laughed, “my business is anywhere the King’s laws are trampled underfoot. Laws cannot be laws unless they are just and protect the innocent. Leave the boy to me and I will see that he leaves your precious forest with all speed, but you and all your folk would be wise to return to your rightful King.”

  The unicorn snorted derisively, “we chose our own Kings and need no more of your Master. Take the boy and go. If either of you ever return I cannot promise you shall live to regret it.” The boy was petrified but the man laughed, as if he found the whole concept funny. The unicorn stomped in agitation before vanishing into the night.

  The man turned to the boy, who was struggling out of his blankets to his feet, and said, “and what are you doing in this forsaken place? This is no place for mortal men, let alone boys!”

  The boy said, “I had hoped to gain some useful information from certain folk in the region, if they were willing to talk to such as I.”

  The man shook his head, “what information can be worth your life? The folk in these parts are much more likely to kill or avoid you rather than speak with you. Men are not held in favor here.”

  The boy said, “but you seemed to have no fear of them.”

  The man smiled knowingly, “I am not as vulnerable as some, such as yourself. Come, pack your things, we must be going.”

  The boy said, “I thank you for your assistance but I cannot leave.”

  The man stared at him, “you nearly lost your life and yet you refuse to leave? Why?”

  The boy said, “I cannot leave until my horse returns, and I do not wish to leave until I have found the answers I seek.”

  The man said, “you are either a fool or have more courage than sense. Leave the animal, he is not worth your life. As for your answers, perhaps I can be of help, but let us be gone”

  The boy brightened, “in what matters of lore are you knowledgeable?”

  The man laughed, “an eager pupil I see. I know a few things many men do not and if I do not know what you seek, I can find someone who does, and perhaps even a sagacious person who will not kill you for your temerity.”

  The boy said, “then we shall leave as soon as my friend returns.”

  The man frowned, “I thought you awaited your horse? You said nothing of a friend abroad in the night.”

  The boy said, “he is one and the same.”

  The man shook his head, “this is not the time nor the place for tricks. No matter how you feel about the beast we cannot linger.”

  The boy said desperately, “I would not dally for a simple beast, but this is no mere horse but a thinking creature.”

  The man eyed the boy strangely for a moment, but said, “we cannot abandon a sapient creature in this wretched place therefore we must risk the danger and wait. What strange story is this?”

  The boy said, “the tale is his to tell.�
�

  The man smiled, “a true friend indeed.”

  They had not long to wait, for just then the horse wandered out of the night. He had smelled the stranger in the camp and worse, he had smelled the man’s mount; something was not right about the pair of them. He also caught a faint trace of something else he could not put a name to. The man said, “here is your horse lad, we had best be going.” The horse eyed the boy skeptically and the boy nodded silently. They packed their things and were soon on their way out of that forbidden glade. They found a wide game trail going in the proper direction as the first glimmers of dawn greyed the eastern horizon. Erian was dying to speak with the boy but there was something he did not trust about the stranger and most especially his horse, thus he dared not betray that he was more than a silly horse.

  “How long will you remain silent?” asked the strange mare. The boy nearly fell out of his saddle in alarm as Erian gave her a pleading look.

  The man said gently to the mortified Erian, “do not be afraid, we mean you no harm. The boy told us you were no ordinary beast but said the tale was yours to tell.”

  Erian sighed and said, “I am not afraid.”

  “What then stills your tongue?” asked the man.

  Erian hung his head and said, “shame.”

  “He is a rebel and traitor,” scoffed the mare.

  The man raised an eyebrow, “how can this be?”

  The mare said, “it does not happen often, but even the Pegassi can stumble for the sake of pride. He was Asked but refused and has become an outcast and byword to his people and is used as an example to teach the little ones the cost of pride.” If horses could weep, Erian would have done so.

  Bryant broke in on his friend’s behalf, “go easy upon him! He has suffered much for his pride and has learned well his lesson. He has returned to the King and serves Him as he can in such a state as he finds himself. He has risked much on my behalf though he need not have troubled himself so.”

  The man said, “peace my friend, for if the Master has forgiven, who are we to judge?”

  The mare snorted noncommittally and finally sighed, “forgive my disdain, but it was a shock to us all. It gladdens my heart to know you have forsaken your pride and yearn to return to your people.”

  Erian looked up hopefully and Bryant patted his neck in reassurance. He glanced back at his friend and said, “now I know a little of what you have endured.”

  The man looked to the boy curiously and the full tale was told. Afterwards the man whistled and said, “this is the most peculiar pair of wanderers I have ever encountered in many, many miles and years. Now what is this strange quest you have set yourselves?”

  The boy said hopefully, knowing now the identity of the strange mare, “we are looking for those called the Messengers and hope to enter their service, if they will have us.”

  The man nodded as if he expected nothing else and said, “it is a long and dangerous journey but I think together you can make it. Also know it is a dangerous life and you will certainly know fear, pain, sorrow, and shame in the course of your service. It is no easy life but you can render your King and all the world much service thereby. If you are still willing I shall set you on the Road to begin your adventures.” The boy exchanged a glance with Erian and they both nodded firmly. The man smiled deeply and said, “then you had best get started. It will be a long and weary road and will try your hearts severely, but stay true and let not your courage flag and you will come to the place you desire. You must not stray from the road for any reason, no matter how noble seeming the purpose, continue on your way regardless of the incentive to tarry or turn from the path. There are many tricksters and much false upon the road you are choosing to tread; if you heed them and give in to their ploys much grief shall result and you may never reach its end.”

  The boy asked, “if the road is that difficult, will you not come with us and lend us aid at need?”

  The man said, “this path you must take alone for only those who reach its end will be taken into the service of the Messengers. It is a long and dangerous path and will weed out or destroy those whose motives are false, shallow, or selfish. Only those with a fervent desire to serve and willing to forsake all else to serve their King can complete the journey, but ware even they might meet dangers upon the road that they cannot overcome. This journey may claim both your lives ere you reach its end.”

  The boy and the horse exchanged another look and each saw firm resolve and a great eagerness in the eyes of the other. They nodded firmly once more and turned their attention back to the man. He laughed, “if any have the heart to complete this trek it is the pair of you. Mind what I have said, stray not far from the path for in so doing you may never find it again, and seek strength from our Great Father when things grow dark and your hearts are heavy. The Road will take you faithfully to its end, do not turn aside upon any crossroads or on any errands. Behold, the road is before you! Farewell my friends.”