by Ian Newton
Chapter 5
An Early Departure
Stepping through the wide front door into Mr. Miller’s house, Andrew said, “I know where the shield is.”
“Close the door! What are you talking about?”
“You know, the shield my dad found,” he said, pushing the door shut.
Connor stopped and turned around in the dimly lit hallway, saying, “I got to see the first two pages of the book and I don’t remember a shield, but can you believe it?! It’s like a dream.”
“You only read the diary. We didn’t actually go there.”
“The what? The diary? Why did you call it that?”
“Because that’s what the letters on the front of the book say.”
Connor turned back around and walked toward a candle lit room. “You know,” he said, in a quiet voice, “that makes sense. It felt like I was having someone else’s dream, but I knew I wasn’t dreaming. That’s when I realized I could do whatever I wanted.”
The large kitchen at the back of the house was lit along the wall by a half dozen candles. On the far end, in an oversized hearth, the cooking fire burned low. An iron pot on a large hook bubbled and steamed, wafting its glorious smells throughout the house.
“Help yourself. The bowls are right here,” Connor said, pointing at the table.
Andrew picked up a bowl and followed his nose to the small cauldron of stew. Connor sat down and waited for Andrew in the large room connected to the kitchen.
“I can’t believe I was there! Do you remember the thing behind the other thing in the middle of that place?” Connor said to himself. “Wow! That was impossible,” he said, shaking his head as he answered his own questions. He waved his arms around, saying, “How do you think they made that? I’m ready to go back. I wish I lived there. I’m going to live there. We’re going to go there, and it will be amazing, you’ll see. You’ve got to see the next page.”
Andrew came over with his bowl and spoon. He was calm and cool, trying not to seem impressed or impatient. With a mouthful of stew, he said, “Why? What’s there besides a broken down old nothing?”
“You’re kidding, right?!”
Andrew chewed slowly, making Connor wait as long as possible for his answer. Finally, he said, “Yeah, I’m kidding. I can’t wait to see everything in that book. Where did Mr. Miller put it?”
“He said it’s safe. We can look at it tomorrow, but I can tell you what I saw if you want to know?”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to shut you up. But before you start telling me all about it, let me see your foot.”
Connor proudly held up his foot with the missing toe and tried to wiggle the stump. Andrew set down his bowl and took a candle off the table. He stepped over to Connor’s waggling foot and grabbed it.
“Would you just look at that?! It’s completely healed. It’s like you were born without a big toe!” He tossed Connor’s foot to one side and set the candle back down. “How is that even possible?” he mumbled to himself.
“What did you say?” Connor asked, still holding up his foot, trying to make the stump move.
Andrew picked up his bowl and sat down in a chair across from Connor. “I said how’s that possible? How is any of this possible?”
“I don’t know, but why don’t you tell me about the shield and I’ll tell you about the next page of the book,” Connor said, feeling brash.
“The shield?! Didn’t Mr. Miller already tell you about it?! Don’t you know what happened to my father?! You were in the room when he told us all about it!”
Connor lost his brashness, set his foot back down on the uneven wooden floor, and lowered his eyes.
“I don’t remember anything except going to the lake. I can’t even remember what happened to my toe. I know what Mr. Miller told me when I came out of the book a couple hours ago, but honestly, I don’t know where we are or how we got here.”
Tears filled Connor’s eyes, and he pleaded, “What in the world is going on, and where in the heck are we?!”
Andrew sighed, let out a little laugh and started all over from the beginning.
It was late when he finally stopped talking. The candles had burned down, and a quiet calmness settled into them that hadn’t been there for a long time.
Connor, who had been very attentive the entire time, gave a big yawn, and said, “Thank you for saving me. Thank you for not letting me drown. I’m sorry if I got mad at you, I didn’t mean it. Thank you.”
“It’s not like I was gonna leave you there. I’m sorry for what happened too, and I’m sorry for calling you a chicken. I never thought anything like this would ever happen.” And that was that.
Just before Andrew fell asleep, he whispered to the quiet room, “I’m bringing him back when we go there. I’m gonna climb down into that pit and bring him back. Then I’m gonna give him a proper burial. I’m putting my word on that.”
Connor mumbled something, turned to his side in the big chair and soon they were both asleep.
Early the next morning, with the sun lighting up the room, Connor playfully kicked Andrew’s chair.
“Rise and shine, Hero.”
Andrew stretched and pawed at the air.
“What’s for breakfast?”
With the words still hanging in the air, Mr. Miller came striding into the room.
“Breakfast,” he announced, “is whatever you can find in the barn and whatever remains in that pot.”
Connor was face to face with Mr. Miller. Their six foot, one inch tall frames almost mirrored each other, and Connor politely asked, “When will we be starting our adventure?”
“You already have, my boy. Now go and gather something for us to end our fast, then I’ll tell you a story about today, tomorrow, and yesterday.”
Andrew kicked up his legs, grabbed Connor by the elbow and the two walked briskly out the front door in search of a meal. It was five thirty in the morning, the sun had just come up, and it was already ninety degrees.
“Are you sure there’s a shield?” Connor asked.
“Are you crazy?! Didn’t you listen to anything I said last night? Don’t you remember what I told you and what I saw in my dream?” He pushed Connor toward the stairs saying, “You said you were listening!”
When they came back to the house, they entered through the front door only to have Mr. Miller push them back outside.
“I thought you wanted some breakfast,” Connor said.
Mr. Miller shut the front door, saying, “As soon as you’ve both learned your lesson for the day.”
Andrew smiled at Connor, and said, “And so it begins.”
Mr. Miller had two things in his hands, the magic shield and the book. He walked past the boys and told them to “sit” on the front steps.
He backed away and began the lesson by saying, “Lesson number one. This shield will defeat anyone or anything that attacks it. When the time is right, we will use it to win the Kingdom.”
“Andrew!” prompted Mr. Miller.
“Yes, sir.”
“Take a rock and throw it at this shield.”
Andrew took a fist-sized fieldstone from next to the house and tossed it to Connor. He felt the heft of the stone, then he stood up, cocked his arm back and threw it as hard as he could.
In a blazing glory of sparkles and tiny brilliant rainbows, the rock disappeared. Mr. Miller’s head poked out from behind the huge shield, and he said, “Lesson learned.”
Next, Mr. Miller set the book on the ground. He told both the boys find a rock at least as big as their head. When they returned, he demanded that they smash the book with their rocks until they could no longer wield them.
At first, Connor refused, and Mr. Miller struck him in the face with an open hand. There was a small display of righteous indignation, then he started smashing the book with his rock
. To the boys’ amazement, nothing happened to the book and the rock eventually cracked into useless little pieces. By the time he was done, Connor was sweating and winded.
Andrew didn’t want to get smacked upside the head, so he took his rock and did the same thing, achieving the same results. After they were both exhausted, they realized what Mr. Miller had known all along.
He told the boys to rest on the steps while he concluded the lesson.
He held up the shield and announced, “Anyone challenging this will pay dearly for it. This is the ultimate defense. It is magic.” He set the shield down in the dirt, stepped toward the boys and pulled back his sleeves. He presented the scarred flesh without saying a word. After an uncomfortable pause, he pulled down his sleeves, stepped backward and stood behind the book.
Holding it up, he said, “This is magic. It cannot be destroyed. It will never cease to exist. It can only be hidden from plain sight, and it offers no sanctuary to those who seek it. It is also a trap. Never use it alone and never open it without letting us know what you are about to do.
Both of these objects can be “felt” by people who are sensitive to them. Magical objects have the ability to “call” to people in their dreams and even when they are awake. You’ve both experienced this, and I can guarantee you one thing. Others are looking for the book, just as you were. They seek the shield in the same way. The sword remains lost. They will challenge us for them and kill us if they have to. The longer we stay here, the closer they get, and the more dangerous each day becomes.”
He picked up the book, dusted the dirt from the cover and leveled his gaze at the boys. “We leave for the Kingdom in four weeks. By the time we leave, you will know some of what I know, and neither of you will be ready.
We cannot afford to stay here while the world closes in around us. Every morning we will meet, and I will conduct a lesson. Lessons will not be repeated, and questions will not be answered until that evening. Is this clear enough?”
Both boys nodded, and answered, “Yes sir.”
“Tonight we will explore the book again. Until then, stay out of trouble, don’t wander off, and if you see anyone holler for me right away.”
That night the three of them gathered in the back room. It was just after supper and each had taken a seat in one of the high-backed chairs. Mr. Miller lit his pipe and blew smoke rings into the rafters above. With the pipe between his teeth, he casually asked the room, “Any questions about this morning?”
Andrew spoke up almost before the question was finished, “You said there’s a sword, but it’s lost. How do you know?”
“Because I dream about the fool thing all the time and it’s in the book. I’ve been looking for it for the past ten years and after all my searching, I’m convinced it’s in the pit your dad fell into. You boys can take a look when you get there because this time we’re bringing enough rope.”
“What does it look like?” Connor asked.
Andrew answered without even thinking, “It’s beautiful! Its blade must be three feet long, and it’s made of a blue, transparent crystal. It’s edged on both sides and comes to a dangerous point. It’s also got a guard and an elegant basket made of gold, and the pommel looks like a rose, just about to open. I think it’s a rapier.”
“Sure it is,” Connor said sarcastically. “What does it really look like Mr. Miller?”
“How did you know that?” Mr. Miller asked, looking very surprised.
“It was in my dream. The one I had in the basement when you came to wake me up. I thought it was just a dream, but now I know it was more than that...wasn’t it?”
“It’s still just a dream, but that’s the same sword I see every time. Did you get a sense of where it was? Did it call to you?”
“I thought it was right in the room with me. I mean in the room where I had the dream…no, I mean I could see it in the room where the man was, but when I woke up, I couldn’t tell anymore.”
Mr. Miller sat there thinking and puffing on his pipe.
“Does the sword do anything special, like the book or the shield?” Connor asked.
“According to the book, the sword was one of two gifts from the Lady of the Spire to her father. He didn’t have any magic of his own, and from time to time, he had to leave the Kingdom to meet with people around the world. His daughter worried about him so much, she actually removed part of her magic, weakening herself, to create the shield and the sword. The book doesn’t really speak to what the objects do, but when the daughter presents her gifts to her father, she says, “A shield to protect you and keep you from harm. And a sword that shines for all to see. Those who gaze upon them will be truthful, and those who wield them must be righteous.”
“So, what good is the shield going to do us?” Connor asked, sounding tired of the whole conversation.
“Now that’s a good question. It took me a little while to figure it out myself.”
Both boys sat up and leaned forward in their chairs.
“The shield protects the bearer from any attack, right? Even an all-powerful magical attack...right?” He paused for effect, but the boys just looked at each other.
“I keep forgetting how little you two know,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “So this is how it works. To rebuild the Kingdom, it takes two people, right?”
“Right,” confirmed the boys.
“Yeah, one to die and one to carry the body home,” Connor joked.
Mr. Miller leaned forward and slapped him upside the head. Connor looked surprised, then embarrassed, and Mr. Miller started again.
“One man is in the Hero’s Chamber at the top of the tower, the Hero, and the other man is in the Defender’s Portal outside the city. The Defender enters the Portal just as the Hero takes his place in the Chamber and when the Portal lights up, he grabs the spike on the floor. The Portal and the Chamber become one and the two men, the Hero and the Defender, are in the same place at the same time. Of course, the Hero can’t move, so it’s the Defender who takes all the punishment. He’s the person defending the Hero from the magical force.
The Kingdom has never been rebuilt because no one has ever been able to survive the devastating onslaught. If the Defender can survive, the Kingdom will rise again!”
Connor had a sly grin on his face. “That sounds pretty good.” He reached over and shoved Andrew saying, “That sounds pretty good doesn’t it! Doesn’t it?!”
Andrew fell back in his chair and smiled. “We could really do this, couldn’t we?”
Mr. Miller didn’t smile at all. He just looked at the boys, and said, “If we can get there alive we should have the best chance anybody has ever had...if we get there.”
“Why do you say it like that?” Connor asked. “It’s only three weeks through the Wastelands right? We’ve got to make it.”
“It’s four weeks, and there are only three of us. If we’re attacked at any point along the way, we’re as good as dead.”
With a big smile, Connor said, “But not if we use the shield, right?”
Hope flickered across Mr. Miller’s dark eyes. In all the time he had kept the shield, the thought of using it against a person had never occurred to him. His self-imposed responsibility had always been to hide it and keep it was safe. But if this was truly the last trip to the Kingdom, why not strap the thing on your arm and let the whole world see it?
“I think you’re making a lot of sense right now,” Mr. Miller said, “A lot of sense.”
After a long night of Connor and Andrew experiencing the book, the three adventurers almost simultaneously came up with a plan to leave sooner rather than later. Over the next week, Mr. Miller would obtain the final items needed for their journey. The boys would begin creating an inventory list of all the items they currently had stored at the house plus all the additional items they would require. They would als
o have to create a packing plan, making sure every item would be easy to find during the journey.
The next morning Mr. Miller had the wagon ready to go and was leaving the property by the time the sun hit the house. Connor and Andrew stayed behind. They had more than two months’ worth of provisions to list, categorize, and figure out how to pack.
It wasn’t easy, but in ten days the small party was packed and ready to go. There were six horses and a wagon. Connor and Andrew were each riding a horse, Mr. Miller was driving the wagon with two horses pulling it, and there were two packhorses tied to the back of the wagon. The most precious cargo they had, the shield and the book, had been stowed in an ingenious little space between the bed of the wagon and the bottom of the wagon. Apparently, Mr. Miller was experienced in packing items where they were not likely to be seen.