“You mentioned hearing that he was seeking the Legacy, Sim. Do you know what that is?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know anything Sarimus,” Sim responded. “Nobody tells me anything. Sevin still treats me like a child.”
Sarimus' face took on a lighter air. “Don’t be so hard on your father,” he said, patting Sim’s shoulder. “Sevin may be tough, but his heart's in the right place, and he always has your best interests in mind.”
“If that’s so, then why won’t he let me leave Caramour?” Sim fretted, hoping Sarimus would offer him a job on his ship.
“Sim,” Sarimus said, sighing with resignation. “The world outside these lands isn’t nearly as fun as you may think. There is violence everywhere you go; people who would cut your stomach out just to steal your purse. Someday you’ll look back on your days here and long to have them back.”
“Even you then,” Sim said angrily. “I suppose asking you for an apprenticeship on your ship is out of the question?”
“For now, it is,” Sarimus replied gravely. “But fear not, my boy. Very soon, this great wide world you seek may come looking for you, and I can only pray that you’re up to the challenge.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Sim practically groaned with frustration.
“Sim have you ever heard of the Harven Legacy?” The change in subject jolted Sim’s momentary despair away. He shook his head no, and waited to hear the story.
“Over a thousand years ago,” Sarimus began, “there existed a race of men who were both sorcerers and soldiers and who had no equals. These men were known for the mountains they called home, far away on the northeast coast of Fandrall. The Harvens were a very powerful race and could have easily dominated the world had that been their ambition, but instead they chose to protect those that ruled. So it was that every Harven on his twenty first birthday would journey to the Castle Alexidus in Fandrall to offer his services to the king for a term of five years. The king ruled the world through peace and justice, and the Harvens stood at his side to maintain that peace. This had been the custom for countless centuries until a man named Desirmor, leading an army of beasts, cast the kingdom into darkness, wielding a dark magic never before seen, a magic more powerful than that of any man alive. This tyrant murdered the king and all of the Harven soldiers serving the palace as well. He enslaved the king’s daughter Harmony, forcing her to be his bride and with the kingdom in his control, Desirmor set his sights on the Harven Mountains, and destroying all of the men who dwelled there. It took him only a few years to finish his task murdering every Harven he could find until he was certain his mission was complete. But the Harvens were not so easily destroyed. Prior to Desirmor’s arrival, the leader of the Harvens had welcomed a newborn boy into the world and wisely sent him to live with a family far away from Fandrall. To this day, Desirmor believes he has destroyed the Harven race, but to this day it endures. It endures in the bloodline of that single child, smuggled to safety, and guarded by those who’ve known his true heritage for all this time.”
Sim hardly noticed that Sarimus had stopped speaking. He was captivated by the tale he had just heard. It all sounded like some fairy tale the bards told little children, but since he was hearing it from Sarimus, Sim believed every word. “So the Legacy is the lost heir to the Harven bloodline,” Sim thought aloud, finally feeling like things were beginning to make sense.
“Not exactly,” Sarimus said patting Sim’s knee. “You see Sim, there is so much more to explain but my time, I’m afraid, is limited. The Princess that Desirmor enslaved is a part of all this. Few back then knew that Harmony Alexidus was born with the foresight. Before Desirmor imprisoned her, she spoke one night to a nurse maid who recorded a series of her visions on parchment. These prophecies are the stuff of legend, but sadly disappeared soon after Desirmor’s reign began. Some believe that the scroll was smuggled out of the country and is being held in safekeeping even now. Others think that Desirmor hunted the prophecy down and destroyed it for fear that the words may one day come true. Either way, we do know that Desirmor is aware of the prophecies and this is why he has once again begun to search for a remnant of the Harven blood.”
“Why would the surviving Harven matter to him?” Sim asked. “If he was powerful enough to nearly destroy their entire civilization, then why would he be afraid of them now?”
At this question Sarimus smiled openly. He regarded Sim with an almost fatherly expression. “That my boy is everything,” he grinned mischievously. “It is true that Desirmor was strong enough then to outmatch all of the combined strength of the Harven race. It is also true that over the last millennia he has even increased his strength by further mastering his craft.”
Sarimus stood up and walked into the middle of the barn. The moonlight cast his form in a ghostly light, making him almost float into the air before Sim, as he continued to speak.
“Despite the endurance of the Harven bloodline, all of the lore, the history, the very essence of their civilization has been lost, forgotten by time. The blood that remains in truth would never be strong enough to challenge Desirmor, and restore peace to the world. Still, we can hope. In the prophecy spoken by Harmony Alexidus, it was said ‘darkness can never endure. As time is said to heal all wounds, the scar of darkness will succumb to that which was forgotten. When he can’t fight, a warrior will defend him. When he can’t walk, the silence will carry him. Where his mind falters, the past shall teach him. When he can’t hide, the light shall consume him. And when he is lost, hope shall guide him. Eternity will not suffer a darkened soul. What was lost and forgotten shall heal the world.”
Hearing the actual words of prophecy spoken to him aloud made the hairs on the back of Sim’s neck stand on end. Deep within his mind he could hear a voice reassuring him that his adventure was only beginning, as though the prophecy was somehow meant for him. Sarimus knelt on one knee before him and looked deeply into his eyes. “Sim, my true name is Sarimus Harvencott. I am the sole surviving heir to the Harven bloodline, and I have been able to keep that secret safe because of friends like Farrus and your father Sevin -- friends who know the value of my life and who’ve sacrificed greatly to aid me in my quest.”
Sarimus was about to continue when they both heard the inns back door open and close. Sim knew at once that it was Sevin coming to see why he was taking so long in the stable.
Sarimus looked calmly at Sim. “Take this,” he said, pressing something round and cold into Sim’s right hand. “Show it to no-one. It is yours to keep. Think of it as your birthright.” Sarimus hurried to the back of the stable to hide and stopped just before ducking into one of the horse bays. “One more thing Sim,” he whispered, walking toward the shadows in the back of the barn as Sevin’s footsteps came closer on the gravel pathway outside. “Take care of Maehril - at all costs. The fate of the world will one day depend on her life.”
With that he turned and walked through the wall, leaving Sim awestruck and gawking as Sevin roughly pushed open the stable doors. Sim looked dumbly up at his father, who stood scowling at him from the doorway.
“Who were you talking to boy?” Sevin blustered.
“I was just talking to the horses, father,” Sim lied.
Sevin looked at him incredulously. “The horses? Sim, you haven’t gone daft have you now?”
“Of course not,” was all he could say in defense.
“I’ll not have my only son acting like a damn loon,” Sevin shouted at him. “Now off to bed with you. Let’s go!”
Sim looked toward the back of the barn where Sarimus had miraculously walked through a wall. He had so many more questions to ask, and he knew that Sarimus was leaving the next day. He might have tried to think of a way to stay in the barn a bit longer but the look on Sevin’s face told him to call it a night. If there was more Sarimus needed to tell him, Sim was certain he’d find a way. Clutching the strange object which Sarimus had given him, Sim silently walked past Sevin and made his way towards his bedroom.
/> *****************************************************************
Alone in his room at last, Sim lit a candle and lay down on his bed. He looked blankly up at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts, tired, but not enough to sleep. This had been without any doubt the most strange and exciting day of his life. For some time his thoughts dwelled on the surprise encounter he had shared with Sarimus earlier in the barn. The world he lived in had suddenly become a very dangerous and exciting place.
His finger gently caressed the gift Sarimus had given him just a short while before. Upon inspection, the object was a tiny spherical gem, no larger than a marble, set into a ring of metal tinted slightly blue. It was like nothing Sim had ever seen before. The gem itself was a faded orange with white swirls sparsely showing across the orb like tiny waves. In fact, as Sim gazed upon it, the surface of the orb seemed to shift like water gently flowing under a frame of glass. It all hung from a chain, woven into an extraordinary five line braid, made from the same strange metal as the setting. The chain was thin but remarkably sturdy. Watching the surface of the orb swirl and wave as though it were a living force, Sim found himself hypnotized by its peculiarity. His intuition told him that there was a great power within this tiny gem and that Sarimus had meant for him to guard it. And he would guard it, Sim thought to himself.
For some time Sim continued to lay there on his bed studying his new treasure and fantasizing about its origins and powers until sleep came at last. Sim began to dream of a great castle set upon a hillside against the backdrop of a titanic waterfall, hundreds of feet tall, falling from a great cliff behind the castle. The waterfall fed a river that surrounded the whole foundation of the castle and caused a great natural shroud of mist to rise around the castle walls. It was twilight as Sim approached the castle, floating through the sky like a bird gliding on the wind. As he drew near, Sim looked across the structure for signs of life, but found only a single light glowing from a window in a tower on the castle's west end. An ill feeling came across him as he drifted toward that single light as though something wicked was in that room. There was a courtyard on the east end of the structure that appeared far more inviting so Sim changed his course.
When his feet came to rest on the marble stone courtyard, Sim began to search for anyone who could tell him where he was. He followed the stone walkways past tall statues displaying men in heated contests and battles, marveling at their stunning detail and craftsmanship. At the end of the row stood an enormous gold statue of a man standing proudly over a fallen foe. On the statue's base was a commemorative plate describing the scene. Sim traced his finger over the deep etchings as he read aloud the proclamation.
“Here we celebrate the Great King’s victory over Thalson Harvenstrong, despised sorcerer and enemy of all men.”
Just as Sim finished reading the dedication, a door into the castle swung open to his left. He left the statue behind and headed for the doorway. The entrance led to a long winding stairway, descending deep into the ground beneath the castle. The passage was lit by candles mounted onto the gray stone walls leaving an ethereal green light to navigate through. The stairs seemed to go down endlessly, and Sim found himself moving more quickly with each passing stair until he was running down the stairway as though he were being pursued. At last the stairs ended and Sim came into a small room with only a single door on the opposite end. The door was wooden and plain, with cast iron latches and a small barred window at eye level.
Before he could approach, a voice, sweet and soft like wind rolling across a lush plain, spoke to him from behind the door.
“You’ve come to me at last, Siminus."
Sim tried to speak but stumbled on his words as his mouth suddenly went dry.
“You’ve no need to speak, Siminus. Hear my words. My name is Harmony Alexidus, cursed Princess of Fandria, a peaceful kingdom once ruled from these castle walls. I have summoned you to be my witness, my champion, my salvation, and long have I awaited your arrival. Though we have never met, I know you Siminus, as I have watched you in my dreams grow from child to man. The road you face is long and dangerous, but your destiny is the will of our holy creator, the Great Mother. The reign of Desirmor nears its end, so I call upon you to take heed. Beware the crimson sky, Siminus, for it marks the beginning of despair. Follow Lady Relador for she alone can offer you deliverance. We shall speak again soon.”
With that, Sim woke up and found himself alone in his bedroom. He sat up slowly and looked around trying to shake the notion that what he had just experienced was no dream. The whole sequence replayed in his mind, and Sim felt certain that from the moment his feet had landed in that courtyard, reality had replaced the dream. He even noticed that he was still breathing hard from running down the staircase.
Then it happened. As he sat there trying to make sense of the dream from which he had just awoken, Sim was overcome by the sudden fear that he was being watched. He looked around his room scanning every darkened corner and crevice but saw nothing. Still it was there, like a splinter in his mind, and he knew something was wrong. Sim crept toward the single candle across the room, and wetting his thumb and forefinger he extinguished the flame. With his room cast in darkness save for the soft moonlight filtering in from outside, Sim slipped through the shadows to his only window. He leaned tightly against the wall and peaked out the windows bottom corner. The street below was quiet and unassuming. Even at this late hour Sim would have expected to see a drunken merchant stumbling down the street in search of another drink. However there was nary a sound nor movement. Still it was inescapable; someone was watching him and his instincts pointed to the streets below.
Sim continued straining his eyes to see into every dark alley visible from his window. In this part of town the buildings tended to have a bit of property, not at all like the congested blocks closer to the harbor, but across the street were two rather thin alleys. He could only make out vague shapes cloaked within the pitch dark alleys. He saw nothing that could confirm his suspicions. As he strained to see through the darkness, his fingers began to trace down the chain of his new necklace, subconsciously searching out the smooth gem resting against his chest. The gem was cool to the touch as his fingers gently caressed it. In his mind a picture began to form of a man standing in the shadows, cloaked in black, looking up at his window. Somehow Sim knew he was there in the alley across the street, yet it was too dark to make him out. He began to imagine a light glowing over the alley, revealing what he knew the darkness concealed. Suddenly the gem became white hot, nearly burning his fingers and chest. Down in the street a bright light formed at the entrance to the alley seemingly from nowhere, but just as he’d imagined. The light cast down upon a man leaning against a wall in the alley. He was cloaked in black, his face concealed by a hood. The sudden appearance of light startled the man, who swung around in all directions searching for the source of the light. The sudden disturbance caused his hood to fall back, and he fixed a vicious stare up at Sim’s window. He was unlike anyone or anything Sim had ever seen before. His long, dark, greasy hair fell over pointy ears. His skin was black, and a pair of small fangs protruded from his snarling mouth. He had yellow eyes that spewed hate and contempt, and as Sim met his gaze, a feeling of morbid dread consumed his thoughts. With his position revealed, the man didn’t tally. He sprinted from the alleyway and down the street with a speed and grace that made Sim’s jaw drop.
For some time after his stalker's departure Sim didn’t move. He stared out the window, his heart racing, trying to come to terms with a fear that wouldn’t abate. It was foolish he knew, but for some reason Sim couldn’t shake the idea that he had just seen death itself. The very notion made his blood run cold. He leaned back against the wall and sitting there in the dark, alone with a thousand thoughts running circles around his head, he remembered the strange way his necklace had acted. Sim studied it, raising it in the moonlight to see if the surface had changed. Only moments earlier it had nearly burnt his fingers, yet now it was as cool as th
e night air. Slowly, as he stared into its swirling orange center, another image began to form in his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to will the vision into focus, and he could feel the stone becoming warmer as the scene became clear.
Sim was standing on the side of a great cliff amongst a driving rain at twilight. His face was dirty and stained with spots of fresh and dried blood. He held a broad sword in each hand, a body lay near his feet. He was shouting defiantly at someone he couldn’t see with the wind and rain driving harder by the minute around him. Then his opponent flashed into view, spinning and striking with two swords also as Sim deftly parried his attacks. Sim caught every stroke his attacker threw and countered with the same skill and force as his opponent. The battle waged back and forth with neither gaining an edge, their artistry of sword forms equal and perfect. Suddenly Sim was distracted by a sound from the distance, and with a small window to strike, his opponent didn’t miss. The sword found its home in Sim’s chest dropping him to his knees, disbelief and pain creasing his face. As Sim fell to the ground, lifeless, the assailant turned to the cause of Sim’s distraction. Boom.
Sim was returned fr0m his vision, as though someone had punched him hard in the face. His eyes took time to focus, and he nearly vomited from the sudden intense pain in his head. Sim crawled to his bed and lay down, crippled by the reaction to his vision and wondering if he was dying just as he had died in his dream. Had the outcome of his dream translated to the real world? Slowly the pain began to fade, and Sim was able to process what he had seen. Thinking it all through, he wasn’t sure which was worse -- the fact that he had just witnessed his own death, or that his killer had been the man standing beneath his window.
The Innkeeper's Son Page 5