“But on to more pressing issues than my waistline,” he continued. “There is no easy way round about the matter, so I will jump right into it. A little over seven months ago by now, great tragedy fell upon all of Calabranda in the form of savage and cowardly traitorship, as most of the members of the Royal Family were either murdered or kidnapped.”
A great whispering and muttering immediately began in the Hall.
“Yes,” he went on, “it is true. Somehow, by what has been pieced together, a small group of people – we are unsure how many were involved – snuck into the royal sleeping chambers and proceeded to murder Lord Regent Endwor and his elder son Aenin – in cold blood, right there in their own beds as they lay sleeping!”
The din continued to grow, but Tannen went on, raising his voice so as to be heard.
“The Lady Amilla has disappeared without a trace, either murdered and body promptly hidden or more likely kidnapped, since it would naturally be ludicrous to suspect her of any wrongdoing. And their younger son, Moltaer, by some miracle survived his attempted murder, but now bears the misfortune of being completely paralyzed from his waist down. The boy is only eleven years old, but now is burdened with being Lord Regent.”
Myriads of questions and exclamations were jumbled together in the Hall as it lost all form of organization; everyone was talking at once. One unidentified voice rose above the others: “But how can a boy rule over all of Calabranda?”
Tannen raised his arms. “Friends, friends,” he bellowed out in a loud voice. “Please, we must contain ourselves.”
The noise gradually quieted. Penephoni thought it strange that Caenar and the rest of the Council sat in their chairs disaffected by the chaos that had erupted. The room grew eerily silent.
Tannen continued. “For those who may not have heard, someone asked whether a boy as young as Lord Moltaer was fit to rule over Calabranda. The Grand Council has already taken this into consideration, and has unanimously appointed High Chancellor Ontelymon to rule alongside Lord Moltaer until he is fit to…take the reins, as it were. The Grand Council will keep its system of checks and balances to ensure that Chancellor Ontelymon does not overstep his bounds by usurping the Royal Line, though I believe we can all rest assured no such thing would ever happen.”
A general murmuring of agreement ran through the Hall. Ontelymon was a well-respected man, having served as High Chancellor on the Grand Council for nearly thirty years. He had championed certain tax breaks for the poorer population of Calabranda and had donated large portions of his family estate to those who could not afford housing in the Imperial City, Maeon Plenneth.
“That sounds reassuring, doesn’t it?” Kelni asked Penephoni, who merely furrowed her brow.
“I am sorry to bring you this news so late,” Tannen continued, “but we all know how far away Maeon is from us and how long it takes for news to reach us this far in the northwest. Especially considering the Grand Council delayed in releasing this information for four months as they conducted their own investigation, and in the process grounded all Xephyr flights to improve security conditions. Therefore we in Arcenoth only found out the news two months ago. And now of course we are all aware of the treacherous winter we had and how impossible it was for word to be brought to your fine village. Many attempts have been made by me to inform you this month, but nature had her way, as it were. And apparently, I probably still shouldn’t have braved the pass even now…”
Caenar stood from his chair and joined Tannen on the floor, placing his hand on his shoulder. “But we do greatly appreciate your formidable sacrifice to bring us these tidings at this time,” he said. “We, of course, stand behind the decision of the Grand Council and will support High Chancellor Ontelymon as he rules alongside Lord Moltaer. And if we discover any information leading to the whereabouts of these murderous traitors, we will send word. This area is very profitable for someone wanting to hide from authority, after all. Tomorrow I will organize a group to patrol the land surrounding us for anything suspicious. Until then let us all go back to our homes and sleep in peace and comfort knowing we are perfectly safe here.” As he said this, Caenar looked directly at Penephoni and then at someone else. Penephoni assumed it was Clarina.
Soon afterwards everyone was dismissed. As Penephoni was gathering up the sleeping twins she leaned over to Kelni and said, “I told you it could have waited a few more hours. What was so urgent that we couldn’t have learned all of this in the morning? It’s already been – what did he say? – a handful of months since all this took place; what are a few more hours? Knowing how slowly news travels up here, they’ve probably already found Lady Amilla and the murderers.”
“I don’t know,” Kelni said. “Caenar must have had his reasons.”
As if on cue, Caenar approached Penephoni. “Kelni,” he said, “will you allow me a private word with Penephoni?”
“Of course,” Kelni said.
Once he was alone with Penephoni, he said to her, “I want to assure you that no matter what happens to me or to the village, you and the twins will be safe.”
She gave him a puzzled look, and then out of her memory recalled a conversation they had shared the night the twins were born. She decided to push it. “I’m sorry, I guess I don’t understand,” she said, “but what is that supposed to mean? Is the village in some sort of danger?”
The old man’s eyes grew very bright. “No, I do not believe so,” he said, “but all the same, one cannot know for certain what the future may hold for us here. In the meantime, I do know that you, Selenor, and Tresten will be perfectly fine.”
Penephoni looked hard into his eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. “Is there anything you need me to do?”
“My dear daughter, all I need from you is your ongoing hard work in raising these children as well as you can. That is all this old heart can request.”
“Okay, I can certainly do that,” she said. “Goodnight, Elder Caenar.”
“Goodnight, Penephoni,” he said and quietly walked away.
***
Tannen escorted Penephoni and her children back to her house. As she went inside he said, “Would it be cumbersome for you if I had some more of your stew? Just one more bowl will tide me over before I venture to Caenar’s house to spend the night.”
Penephoni smiled. “No, of course not,” she said. “Come right in and I’ll warm up a bowl for you.”
“I could not at this moment imagine a more beautiful sentence than what you just uttered!” Tannen said, and followed her inside.
True to Caenar’s word the night passed peacefully for the village of Calm. Penephoni spent most of the night seated by the fireplace, watching the flickering dance of the flames and thinking about the events of the evening. Contrary to what Caenar had told her, she could not help but worry that he knew something he was not telling anyone else. Were they really safe there? He kept stressing how important the four children were. If someone with evil intentions believed the same thing, could something happen there in Calm like what happened in Maeon? How could Caenar be so sure that she and the children would be safe, no matter what else would happen to him or the village?
Selenor stirred restlessly in her crib. Penephoni went to her side and softly sang an old lullaby her mother had sung to her when she was a child. As the melody filled the room, Tresten’s eyes opened and gazed again into Penephoni’s eyes. Selenor had meanwhile fallen back asleep. Penephoni stopped singing and watched Tresten. Their eyes were locked and unblinking for awhile, until Tresten suddenly let out a soft “Huh,” and turned away.
Penephoni’s brow furrowed as she uncomfortably laughed. She could not shake the feeling there was an intelligent note of sarcastic mockery in his first vocal utterance.
Chapter Three:
Of Tauffles, Wooden Swords, and Roasted Corn
After several days had passed and no significant events occurred that could cause any worry or panic, Penephoni fell back into her daily routine of caring for the children and provi
ding medical care for the village. Tannen had left to return to his home in Arcenoth soon after the meeting and was not heard from again for quite awhile. Life in general was back to normal for all in Calm, which they took as a good thing. As long as there was not too much interference from The Outside, all was well.
Months went by and no word had come on the search for Lady Amilla, or how Lord Moltaer was coping with being the only known survivor of his family’s massacre. Caenar finally sent Faltir and Celek to Arcenoth to get some news. Penephoni could see he was getting anxious to know what was going on within the walls of the Imperial City of Maeon Plenneth. Two weeks later they returned with nothing of significance.
And so life went in Calm. Every other month Caenar sent Faltir and Celek to Arcenoth for news, and they would return two weeks later filling in the village with any facts and rumors that were circulating around Calabranda. But as time went on and nothing developed, Faltir and Celek stopped making their treks to Arcenoth.
Meanwhile the seasons changed and the children grew. Not a day went by where all four were not together for at least a couple of hours at a time. Eventually, once they were old enough to communicate with others, they were practically inseparable. Someone was always staying over at someone’s house or working on school lessons with another.
Selenor grew into a young woman of fair skin and light build, with long, straight black-as-night hair. She had developed a love early on for music and poetry, and often sang at village events. Her manner was lighthearted and elegant, full of compassion and grace, though at times she exhibited a mischevious side. From early on she exhibited strong signs of dependency and timidity, usually simply following the other three along on their adventures. “A princess among royalty,” was how Kelni described her.
Tresten, Penephoni discovered later, was neither deaf nor mute, though he was slow in his speech development. He was fair of skin, like his sister, thin of body and dark in hair. Unlike his sister, the color of his hair seemed to affect his mood, as he was quiet and pensive. However, when he was alone with any or all of the other three he could be quite the talker. Growing up he was often physically ill and spent much time in bed where he developed a deep love for books. There was a hunger in his eyes to know and understand things, such that he had a seemingly insatiable appetite for knowledge. And though Tresten was rarely heard to laugh, he was as true as steel. Not exactly subtle, and somewhat socially awkward, he came across as severe and even cruel to those who did not know him. Those who did know him knew he possessed a biting sense of humor. “Intelligent and hard as nails,” Kelni said of him.
Lana was the mirror image of Clarina. Her deep red hair was long, full, and wavy, and her light blue eyes were large and soft. She took on a motherly role with the other three, which amused Penephoni and Clarina. Because of her often flighty behavior, she was often the butt of Tresten’s back-handed humor. Eventually she caught up to his wit, and the two thrived on pestering and teasing each other. If one wanted to find her, she was either in the kitchen or not far outside Calm, walking around the perimeter of the lake. “Passionate and full of life,” Kelni said of her.
Rylek, on the other hand, grew into the mirror image of Faltir: strong, handsome, and winsome. He, too, loved the outdoors; he relished dawn and dusk, along with the feel of the mountain winds on his face. His hair was a reddish-auburn mix, and his ever-present smile hinted at mischief. Proud and yet selfless, quick to listen and thoughtful, he was a born leader. “One who could do anything he set his mind to,” was what Kelni said of him.
***
So it was, nearly fifteen years later, Rylek found himself one fine winter day atop a western plateau nicknamed The Balcony because it overlooked the valley hiding Calm. The sun was high and warm, the air was crisp and light, and Rylek was standing right on the edge of the great cliff, looking out on his home. It had been an unusually warm winter with little snow. In fact the only snow to be seen at the moment was on the highest peaks of the surrounding mountains. Some trees had actually begun to prematurely bloom. Thankfully, Rylek thought to himself, it’s still too early for all the bugs.
His eyes swept over all he saw in a grand panoramic way. The view held him in an enamored state, especially with the sun just behind so it was not glaring in his eyes. Calm was far enough away so he could not hear any noises that were being made there. The buildings of mostly light gray stone and dark wooden frames looked so small and pristine from this height. The Public Hall sat squarely in the middle, its roof rising above the surrounding buildings. To his right, towards the edge of town, was the Hall of Knowledge. It also dwarfed the houses and shops that surrounded it. Several chimneys were issuing forth homey smoke columns, hinting of cozy lazy days in front of a fire. The village’s windmill was the tallest building, set on the closest side of the lake to Rylek. Slowly but steadily its blades turned in the mountain wind, a subtle but dependable note of motion that helped to breathe a quiet life into Calm.
Rylek never grew tired of the scene. Here he could keep his eyes on his little home in a watchful way, making sure everything was safe. If anyone came over Solemn Pass (which was straight in front of him, across from the village) to enter Calm, he would be the first to see it. To the right of the village (or south) was Lake Calm, its surface mirroring the deep blue sky and the purple-brown-gray of the mountains. The lake was surrounded by an old forest, filled with evergreen, maple, poplar, elm, and peppernut trees that brought a most invigorating blend of fragrances across the lake when the wind blew that way. He saw someone out on the water in a little canoe, probably doing a little fishing. On the left of the village (or north) was a tremendously large open field with slow rolling hills where crops and livestock were raised. All of this sat in a bowl whose rim was the mountains.
No matter how many times Rylek stood on The Balcony, he never grew tired of the view. This was his home, and he had vowed to himself time beyond measure he would do all he could to keep it safe. Perhaps this was why he frequented this spot so often: to memorize every tree, every rock so as to know when something was out of place and possibly dangerous; to know the way the sunlight, moonlight, and village lights reflected off the surface of Lake Calm. It was a beauty that inspired devotion, and willed one to fight for the honor of protecting purity. In his own eyes he was the village’s Silent Knight.
Smiling profusely with the idea of his secret occupation, and after inhaling the sweet mountain air one final time, he turned away from the cliff to return to the village. Supper would be soon, but first he had promised Selenor he would sit with the village’s children while she told them a story. After climbing down the path, he passed the village cemetery on his left, went right for a couple of blocks, then left again, until he found himself at the Old Sentinel, the giant oak tree on the lakefront. Standing there was Selenor surrounded by the usual suspects: ten children eight years old and younger. She was leading them in a song as they were getting settled in story-time position. Rylek caught Selenor’s eye and they smiled at each other as he walked up behind the group of children. While everyone was singing about purple pufulos, Rylek decided to do a quick headcount to see who had decided to come out today. Let’s see, he thought to himself, there’s Shyler, Mendinger, Bowyn, Tolli, Col, Cerwen, Dalten, Lenae, Von…and little Wyli.
“Where’s Keiten?” Rylek asked as the song finished. At the sound of his voice, the children turned around and joyously proceeded to tackle him. It was the same everyday.
“He’s sick again,” Selenor called out over the shouting children, unable to stop herself from laughing at the sight of the giant heap of little ones atop a teenager. “Mom was taking a look at him earlier.”
Rylek shook his head. “Again? He manages to catch everything, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah. I worry about him.”
“Remember, Tresten used to be sick a lot, too,” Rylek mused. “He turned out okay, I guess.”
Selenor laughed. “That’s open for debate.”
Rylek decided to en
d the children’s game. He firmly, but gently, stood up and most of the children fell onto the grass. A couple of the bigger ones were still clinging to his legs. “Well, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he said. “Maybe Tresten can encourage him with his own tales of illnesses.”
“Probably just what he wants to hear.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay everybody, let’s settle back down.”
Her words fell on deaf ears as the children continued their game. Rylek allowed himself to fall onto the grass again under the weight of the children. Selenor smiled as she sighed and crossed her arms. “Rylek, can you please help me here?”
After a couple of minutes everyone was sitting on the grass. Lenae and Wyli were sitting in Rylek’s lap and the rest of the kids were sitting as close to him as they could. They all faced Selenor, who sat with her back against the trunk of the Old Sentinel.
“Today we continue our story with Treina the Tauffle,” Selenor began, which prompted many happy exclamations from the children. “Far from here, over the hills of the Forgotten Plains, past the peaks of the Terminal Mountains, lies the Forest of Contrary Light. Now this Forest is unlike any other forest in the entire world, for in it grow the Flarefruit Trees. What makes the Flarefruit so peculiar is the fact that its juice gives off light contrary to the light of our own sun. It turns red into green, yellow into violet, black to white, and white to black. And here in this magical Forest lives a group of little people named the Tauffles.
“The Tauffles look very different from you and from me. They grow no taller than two apples’ height, and are no heavier than a newborn kitten. What make them so peculiar to look at, though, are their wings. For Tauffles have two little pairs of wings: one pair is on their feet, and the other pair is on their head…”
Selenor’s hands went to the sides of her head and fluttered them like wings. The children laughed as Rylek sighed contentedly. Tresten had thought Rylek was a bit soft to always want to sit with the children while Selenor entertained them. But Rylek did not care. Any excuse he could find to spend time with Selenor was well worth any teasing Tresten dished out. And as the children hung on every word Selenor spoke about the misadventures of Treina the Tauffle, Rylek found himself hanging on every little glance she gave him.
The Children of Calm Page 4