The Mission Begins

by Kevin J. Fitzgerald

  Once more, crowd sounds melted away. Every eye, beak, snout, and whisker turned in the direction of Agabus. In their haste to celebrate, they had not considered the notion that others might be sent with the guinea pig. Anticipation returned.

  When all was silent, Agabus spoke. “Accompanying you will be Frenjoo, the squirrel.”

  “What?!” Frenjoo shouted. A few choked laughs escaped from the back of the room. Dammidgie’s tail bobbed up and down frantically. “W-w-why m-m-me?” Frenjoo stammered. His hands went for his tail, involuntarily wringing it a mile a minute.

  “Yes,” Rolo demanded, and stepped forward. “Why him?”

  “Spirit says you will be needed before this journey is over, friend squirrel,” Agabus said gravely.

  “B-b-but, why?” Frenjoo insisted.

  “He did not say.” Agabus closed his eyes and wagged his long beard. A low murmur moved through the crowd—a sound that signified the Utergei was pleased with this answer.

  Not Frenjoo, however. Frenjoo found the response unsatisfactory, and took an uncharacteristic step forward. “Well, where is He?” Feenjoo demanded, and pushed Rolo out of the way. “Where is Spirit?!”

  Paladin couldn’t help but crack a smile as the wise goat’s eyes opened in amazement.

  “Can we ask him?” Frenjoo continued. “I’d-I’d-I’d like to talk with Him about it right now!”

  More snickering from the back.

  “Spirit has gone,” Agabus replied after a moment. Paladin noticed the slight hint of a smile from the goat, as well. “He left early this morning. As usual, He has gone to look after . . . other aspects of this mission that only He can. We all know that He has plans of His own.”

  That same knowing murmur moved through the crowd again. Frenjoo, recognizing what this meant, lowered his head, distraught.

  Paladin, not knowing what else to do, went to Frenjoo and clapped him on the back. He took the poor squirrel’s paw. “Good luck, Frenjoo. You’ll be great! I know you will. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.” Frenjoo managed a thin smile at the rabbit’s encouragement, and the two regarded each other.

  Then Agabus spoke again. “You will be joining them, too, Paladin.”

  “What?!” Paladin and Rolo said at the same time.

  Paladin dropped Frenjoo’s paw and looked up abruptly. All moisture sucked from his throat. He stepped forward. A sick feeling churned in his stomach. For one brief second, he thought he was going to go to the bathroom. “What?” he protested again. “Why me, Agabus?!” He sounded indignant.

  “Because, my friend, you know the Word.”

  Paladin stared at the goat to see if there was any hint in his eyes of this being a cruel joke. He looked at Shepherd for the same. The old dog only nodded in agreement. Paladin turned and searched the crowd for Watershine. When he couldn’t find him, his shoulders fell. He slumped to the ground, defeated.

  “The others will need you, Paladin,” Agabus reasoned. “To guide them inside the Loehs-Anneheg once you have arrived. You are the only one of us who can make sense of the elahs’ language, and therefore you have a rare advantage over us all.”

  Agabus’ voice came from far away. Paladin closed his eyes. In his mind’s eye he saw fleeting images and faces from his past, but none of them remained, even though he wished them to. He was left only with the dark distress of this present situation. When at last the rabbit spoke he shook his head slowly, as if conferring with the darkness of the other side of his eyelids. “There are so many others,” he whispered. “So many who could go. Watershine. . . Shepherd. . .”

  “They will play a part in their time,” Agabus replied. “Shepherd will be in charge of the ground assault once the Loehs-Anneheg has been penetrated.”

  “Ground assault?” Paladin shot. He looked up and saw the goat standing much closer now. Paladin forgot about the others gathered. Now, there was only the goat and himself—as if Agabus alone had hatched this scheme to somehow consign him to certain doom! Paladin knew this wasn’t true. But it was too convenient at the moment to not have a single focus for his anger; a scapegoat, if you will. “Are you serious, Agabus? Do you even know what you’re talking about?” Paladin looked around the room and pleaded, “Just who do you think you all are, huh? You’re not seriously going to attempt this madness, are you? Did you hear nothing I shared with you last night?”

  A small voice peeped beside him. “What happened to ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ Paladin?” It was Frenjoo. He stood close by, still wringing his tail nervously. Paladin only stared at him dumbly.

  “Of course we heard you, Paladin,” Agabus replied. “We heard everything you said. It is precisely because of what you shared that we must do this thing.”

  Paladin stared for a moment and then protested, “No!” He pushed through the line of chendrith gathered, breaking the circle. Murmurs stirred in his wake, but he didn’t care if all the others in the Utergei stared at him with accusing eyes. He couldn’t let them make this monumental mistake. He knew the elahs better than any of them. “I won’t do it,” he pouted. “You can’t make me do it!”

  It was Rolo who actually left the circle and went after the rabbit, speaking quietly and reasonably. “Paladin.” Rolo placed a paw on his shoulder. “Listen to me. I don’t necessarily want to do this thing, either. But if what you shared with us last night is true . . . then all chendrith are in grave danger.” Rolo nodded in the direction of the Utergei. “Look at them, Paladin,” he urged.

  Paladin shook his head. “We’re just a rabbit, a squirrel, and a guinea pig!” Paladin whirled at Rolo. “None of us even knows who’s behind this Loehs-Anneheg; this, this . . . S.I.N.”

  “Which is exactly why we must find out.” Rolo stepped closer to Paladin. “If we refuse, we will perhaps have a little more freedom of life before this Loehs-Anneheg—this S.I.N. as you named it—will spread to everyone. But it will not be long, Paladin, I can assure you of that. Can’t you feel it?” the guinea pig whispered. Paladin met his eyes, and knew there was truth in Rolo’s words. “It’s growing, Paladin. It’s growing stronger every day.”

  Frenjoo walked up behind them. Paladin saw that the squirrel was no longer wringing his tail. Instead, he wore a look of calm resolve. He nodded at Paladin.

  “This is unbelievable!” Paladin burst, shaking his head. “I mean, this . . . this is crazy!” He looked back at the rest of the Utergei a moment. “You all know that, right?” The chendrith stared back at Paladin but didn’t say a word. Seeing no change in their eyes, Paladin sighed heavily and lowered his gaze.

  It was Rolo who finally walked away from the other two and back to Agabus’ feet. The old goat looked down admiringly. “So,” the guinea pig started. “We know why the rabbit goes. And as you said, Spirit seems to think the squirrel will have some part to play in all of this. But let me ask this, friend goat.” Here, Rolo paused and narrowed his eyes. “Why me?”

  Agabus smiled a queer sort of smile. Without warning, he threw back his head and burst into laughter. It was strange to see this goat, who was normally so grave and sober, erupt into a fit of laughter. The bell around his neck tinkled hollowly, and some of the other chendrith joined in (probably laughing more at the sight of Agabus than with him).

  Rolo shifted on his feet and said nothing. He looked around without breaking a smile. He looked, in fact, dead serious. When Agabus quieted down he looked at Rolo again, and Rolo could even see a few tears gathered in the corners of the old goat’s solemn eyes.

  “Oh, my dear guinea pig!” Agabus chuckled. “Why, I thought you knew.”

  “Knew what?” Rolo asked.

  Agabus leaned down close to him and said, “You are going, Rolo, because you are so very small!”

  A hush fell upon the crowd. Somewhere, a cricket chirruped quietly. There was only a slight hesitation from Rolo before he blurted out, “Small, am I? Small?!” The guinea pig looked as though he were prepared to say quite a bit more on the subject. He most likely would have
, except that Agabus cut him off again.

  “Yes, you are indeed small, my little friend! This is true!” But. . .” Agabus smiled. His laughter faded at once, and his usual serious demeanor returned. “Do not dismay. For though you may be small, guinea pig, your heart is very large.” Agabus winked surprisingly, and Rolo softened a bit. They stared at each other a moment as Agabus lifted his head and repeated, “Yes, yes, quite large, quite large.” The old goat looked around. “The company will have need of both of those attributes along this journey, Rolo. For the road that has been chosen before you is not one that may be traveled by any of the larger chendrith.”

  “What do you mean?” a voice asked. It was Paladin. He stepped beside Rolo, and the guinea pig looked at him. There seemed to be a newfound assurance to the rabbit. On the other side, Frenjoo stepped beside Rolo as well.

  “How will we go?” the squirrel asked, trying not to sound nervous.

  “Yes,” Rolo finally agreed and looked at Agabus. “None of us knows the way.”

  “Ahhhhh. . . how indeed,” Agabus said, and smiled at the three companions.

  Rolo, Frenjoo, and Paladin watched as Agabus stepped away from the rest of the chendrith. Behind him, the Utergei shifted their attention to follow him as well.

  “To begin with,” Agabus said, “Nobo will guide you to the far fields on the edge of this wood. From there, you will be led by the Emunah.” Agabus paused by the remains of an old church window. Shards of glass jutted from the crumbling wooden frame. The goat sighed and stared deep into the surrounding chendray. The morning seemed quiet. His mind journeyed beyond the walls of the church, and his brow furrowed; as though he were seeing something—or into something—which the others could not. His words were soft, sober, and slow, as though recounting some important history rather than giving directions for the future:

  “Follow the Emunah’s shore,” Agabus said. “Walk with it on your left. You will journey due west, towards that land where Quijada sleeps at night. Always keep the escaping of Quijada directly in front of you. The Emunah will bring you to the Forests of Ballivor. Once on the other side of the forest you will pass briefly through the Canyon of Faces and enter the Poisoned Glen, for nothing grows there. It is there, in the Glen, where Spirit has spoken of a secret entrance to the Loehs-Anneheg. The entrance is small, and will take you deep below the shehker plan-aho. That is, the earth.”

  Agabus turned and looked at the three companions. “That is why your size will be to your advantage in this quest. Do not stray off this path,” he cautioned, “for it is told that, in that part of the world, near the Glen, there are Chendrith who have lost their way. Still, you will meet others along the way who will be of great aid to you.” Agabus stepped closer and eyed the three companions one-by-one. There was deep solemnity and love in his eyes. “It cannot be told what kind of opposition you may encounter along the way. But always remember: you will have Spirit to guide you. You must follow His lead, and trust Him to show you the way in which you should go.”

  Another general murmur of agreement swept through the gathered crowd. Rolo nodded approvingly. Frenjoo, while accepting all of this as fact, looked shell-shocked and stared at the ground.

  Paladin left his place beside the others and went to his newfound friend. “Shepherd?” His voice cracked.

  The wise dog made his way forward and looked at the rabbit with large, brown eyes.

  “Shepherd?” Paladin offered again. He didn’t know what else to say.

  “Take heart, little one,” Shepherd said. “Spirit will direct you to the right path.” Paladin searched the dog’s eyes until Shepherd did something that pierced the rabbit to the heart: he smiled. At that smile Paladin felt a wave of something wash over him, something foreign and difficult to place. Perhaps it was something in the dog’s voice; perhaps it was the way in which he smiled. Or perhaps it was because Paladin sensed a wisdom so deep and so strong about the dog that Paladin was immediately convinced that what had been planned and decided was true and right and good. But for just a few moments longer, Paladin wanted to cling to his own feeble objections.

  Paladin couldn’t bear Shepherd’s gaze for long. He tore himself away and looked at the rest of the crowd: Agabus, Rolo, Frenjoo, Eiyra, Dammidgie—so many others who just days ago he had not known. “This is unbelievable,” he said to himself, and closed his eyes. Only a few standing close by heard him whisper.

  “That is all,” Agabus announced abruptly. And like that, the group discussion ended.

  Paladin spun around. Wait! his mind cried. This is too quick!

  But Agabus and Shepherd moved away. The mood of the crowd shifted from talking to taking action. Chendrith dispersed and busily began making preparations. Paladin turned in circles and caught snippets of conversations around the room:

  “Do you think it’s the right thing to do?”

  “I hope Agabus knows what he’s doing.”

  “That Rolo is a good pick.”

  “The squirrel???”

  “Remember the last time. . .”

  “I haven’t seen Spirit. . .”

  “Best of luck to them.”

  Some of the chendrith gathered around Rolo and Frenjoo, offering advice or encouragement. Hugs and handshakes were exchanged. Rolo looked as though he relished the moment. Frenjoo, however, appeared less excited.

  Paladin sought desperately for Eiyra or Watershine in the crowd, but found neither of them. Nameless faces filed past. Paws clapped him on the back. His mind reeled. Was this really happening?!

  Not knowing what else to do or say, the poor rabbit dropped to the ground and nibbled on a stick. Just how on earth had things come to this, he wondered.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Sent Out”

  “What are you thinking about?”

  Paladin turned. Eiyra stood behind him on the pine needles beneath the trees. Her light-brown fur stood out against the still-dark forest of early morn. Though the world was quiet, he hadn’t heard her approach. Paladin was too caught up in thinking. He turned his gaze back to Dakota Lake. Nearby, the River Emunah emptied from the lake in the direction that he and his unlikely companions would soon travel themselves. Paladin sighed. “I was just wondering if the others got out.”

  “Others?” Eirya joined him at the water’s edge.

  “The other animals who were in that horrible place with me, Eiyra.” Paladin spoke like one describing images emblazoned upon their memory—perhaps through witnessing the horrors of war. “They were in cages, Eiyra.” Paladin stared at the lake. “They couldn’t get out when the water came in.”

  Eiyra shuddered. Paladin felt her coat against his own. “Paladin,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. How horrible.”

  Paladin fought a numbness similar to what he had experienced in the icy waters of the lake. A fear churned in his gut. “Eiyra,” he said. “I don’t think anybody has an idea what the Loehs-Anneheg could be. Not even Spirit. We’re getting into something that will be the death of us all.” Paladin paused. His next words were slow; Eiyra noticed his bottom lip quivering. “I should have been with them,” Paladin whispered. “There’s no reason I should have gotten out the way I did.”

  A cold wind whipped at their fur. Fish jumped, breaking the icy stillness of the lake. “I don’t know. There may yet be, Paladin,” she said.

  Paladin looked to see if he could discern what she was talking about. Eiyra stared across the lake the way he had.

  “How long have you been down here?” she asked. “By the water?”

  “Since it was dark,” he answered. “I . . . couldn’t sleep.” Paladin cocked his head to the side, staring at where the sun crept over the faraway foothills. He thought about the Son. Regret filled his heart. It had already been a day since the decision was made that he would accompany Rolo and Frenjoo on this mission. His initial feelings of protest had been replaced with those of absolute doom. Paladin would go, but he was certain he would not survive.

  “Have you ever heard of th
e Arjo Ealu, Paladin?” Eiyra leaned her head closer, but still did not look at him.

  “The what?” he asked. “No . . . What is it?”

  Eiyra smiled and nodded. “They say that far away—across vast distances and beyond all else—there lie great fields of water that go on and on until they reach the horizon. They are known as the Arjo Ealu.”

  Paladin stared and thought, Fields of water. His head swam. “My life is so different from how it was just twenty-four hours ago, Eiyra.”

  “Hmmm.” She nodded, looking at him. The morning sun glistened in her eyes. “It’s amazing what a day can hold . . . isn’t it, Paladin? Some have started the day as slaves, and reigned in palaces by its close. We can never know what a day may bring, can we?”

  For one brief but incredible moment, their eyes locked in a deep gaze. Thoughts and feelings collided within their hearts. Something stirred; something magical. In many ways, words fail to describe it. I hope you have had such a moment in your life—or that you will one day. Glorious!

  But it was only a moment. And then it passed.

  Paladin looked away and back to the relative safety of the water before them. The sun sent long, golden beams across the surface now. A blue heron stalked his breakfast nearby. An elahs boat droned loudly in the distance, coming closer. The world was waking. Paladin stared at the mouth of the Emunah River nearby. Water splashed and spilled over the rocks there. He watched the water march away and wondered what sort of perils awaited them on their journey. He was smote by a strong sense of nostalgia and loss, the way one feels when thinking about a loved one who has passed away. Without meaning to, Paladin said, “I don’t suppose I shall ever see my home again, Eiyra.” Then he fell silent.

  They stood that way for some time. Then, Eiyra turned to make her way back up the trail to where the others would be gathering. Before going, she stopped and turned back to Paladin. “That all depends,” she said quietly.