by Bryan Perro
The crowd applauded wildly, while Yaune hastily got up.
“The truth spoke. Free the boy in the cage,” he said, his face red with anger. He leaned in close to Amos’s ear and whispered, “You will pay for your trick. No one upsets the lord of Bratel-la-Grande without suffering consequences.”
—6—
BANISHED
Amos went back to the inn, accompanied by his father and Beorf. A full, clear moon softly illuminated Bratel-la-Grande. Frilla and Urban welcomed the young humanimal as a son. During their meal, Amos explained to his parents how he had met Beorf in the forest. He also told them that the knights had captured the Bromansons and burned them on the pyre.
Worried, Frilla suggested that they leave Bratel-la-Grande as soon as possible. After all, their goal was to reach the woods of Tarkasis, and staying in town any longer seemed like a bad idea. They decided that they would be on their way at sunrise. Beorf would go with them. They still had enough money, and the horses had had plenty of time to rest.
Beorf then began to tell them what he had seen in the forest. He stopped suddenly and stared at the cat the Daragons had taken in.
Amos smiled. “Don’t pay any attention to the cat,” he said. “He’s not dangerous. We found him in one of the villages before we arrived here. He was the only creature that hadn’t been turned into stone. Probably because he’s blind. We took pity on him and adopted him.”
Beorf whistled to attract the cat’s attention and threw him a piece of meat from his plate. The cat jumped to catch it.
“As you can see, this animal isn’t blind!” Beorf said. “Don’t trust the way his eyes look. I tell you, he’s not normal. Something about him makes me wary. I have a sense about these things when it comes to animals. I can feel their malicious intentions. This cat isn’t honest. It pretends to be blind when in fact it’s watching us and listening to everything we say.”
To calm her guest, Frilla took the cat upstairs and locked him in her room. She looked carefully at the eyes of the animal before putting him on her bed. The cat was definitely blind. Two large cataracts covered its eyes. After her thorough inspection, she was convinced that the young humanimal was mistaken, and she came back down to sit at the table. Beorf resumed telling them what he had seen in the forest.
“They were women. Their bodies were monstrous and powerful. They had wings on their backs and long claws on their feet. Their heads were huge and totally round. They had greenish skin, large noses, and teeth that stuck out like boars’. On top of that, these creatures had forked tongues hanging out the sides of their mouths. I saw a blazing gleam in their eyes. When I looked at them, I wondered what was keeping their hair in constant motion. I almost died when I realized that it wasn’t hair writhing on their heads but dozens of snakes! These hideous creatures are nocturnal, and they’re always screaming in pain because the snake-hairs constantly attack their shoulders and backs. The sores ooze a dark liquid, thick and sticky. What I also know is that as soon as other living creatures lock eyes with them, they’re turned instantly to stone.”
“But tell me something,” Amos said. “How do you know about the blazing gleam in their eyes if those who look at them are transformed into statues? Shouldn’t you have been petrified too?”
The question seemed to surprise Beorf. Indeed, he should have been subjected to the same fate as the other men, women, and animals. He took a few seconds to remember what had happened, then explained how he had met up with these monsters.
“I was picking wild fruit near a village when night caught up with me. I went to sleep in the still-warm grass. The screams of the panicked villagers woke me up. I morphed into a bear and went closer to the houses to see what was causing such terror. I hid behind the forge and peeped through a hole in the wall, but I couldn’t see things head-on. Then I noticed a large mirror in the blacksmith shop. The knights probably used it when they tried on new armor. The Knights of Light are so arrogant that if they could ride their horses with a mirror in front of them, all the better to admire themselves, they would. In any case, thanks to this mirror, I managed to see the creatures clearly—to see their reflections—without becoming a statue. I realize today that I was lucky to come out alive!”
“Now that we know what these beasts look like,” said Frilla, “I would like to know what they want and why they attack this realm and its inhabitants.”
Amos yawned. “At least we know how to avoid becoming statues,” he said. “What’s more, it’s obvious that—”
“Hush! Keep quiet!” Beorf whispered, grabbing his friend’s arm. “Look slowly at the beam above your head. Your blind cat is spying on us.”
Every member of the family looked up toward the ceiling at the same time. The cat was perched on a beam directly over the table, where it seemed to be listening to the conversation.
“You see, I was right,” Beorf said. “This animal has ears too big and eyes too round to be a mere domesticated cat. As soon as it comes down from the beam, I’ll take care of it! I’m sure that this dirty fleabag works for those monstrous creatures.”
At that precise moment, Barthelemy walked in, accompanied by five other knights. He came over to the Daragons’ table.
“By order of Yaune the Purifier, lord and master of Bratel-la-Grande,” he announced, “we are here to evict Amos Daragon and his friend Beorf Bromanson from the city. I am very sorry to have to do this, but I must obey orders. Fellow knights, take them away!”
Urban rushed forward, trying to prevent the knights from taking his son. He received a powerful blow to the back of his head and lost consciousness. Begging for mercy, Frilla did her best to convince Barthelemy to spare her son. Amos would be easy prey for the creatures that had Bratel-la-Grande under siege if he was left outside the town walls at night. But Barthelemy refused to hear the woman’s pleas. Beorf was about to take his bear form and fight for his life, but Amos gave him a reassuring nod, which convinced him to calm down. When the knights and their two prisoners left the inn, the cat jumped from the beam to the windowsill; as quick as lightning, it disappeared into the night through a broken window pane.
The two huge wooden gates and the iron grate were opened. Once the knights pushed Amos and Beorf out of the city, the gates were closed again. Amos and Beorf were left to fend for themselves.
“Let’s try to think, my friend,” Amos said. “We need a hiding place! I am only slightly familiar with the fields surrounding the city, and not at all with the forest. It’s up to you to get us out of here before the snake-haired creatures sink their claws into us.”
“I know where to go,” Beorf said. “Climb onto my back and hold on tight!”
As he said these words, the young humanimal morphed into a bear. Amos jumped on his back and gripped his fur tightly. In less than a second, they were on their way. Although it was dark, Beorf ran quickly. He knew the area well enough to avoid obstacles and easily found his way.
After running through the forest for a good while, Beorf reached the foot of a gigantic tree, and once Amos slid off his back, he became human again. Perspiring, he lay down, his back against the ground and his plump stomach bulging. It took him a few minutes to catch his breath.
“Let … us … go down … quickly!” he managed to say at last.
Beorf dug at the ground with his hands until a trapdoor appeared. One after the other, the two friends climbed down a ladder that took them underground, directly beneath the tree. When they reached the bottom of the hole, they were enveloped in total darkness. Beorf groped around for a lamp, which he soon found.
“Take a good look, Amos; I’m about to perform a magic trick!” Beorf said.
He grunted softly, a sort of moan coming out of his chest. Amos looked up and saw many small lights entering through the open trapdoor. Above their heads, dozens, then hundreds of fireflies were swirling around. They descended suddenly toward Beorf and gathered inside the big glass lamp he was holding in his hand. This was how light filled the underground room, which
was in fact a library.
The four walls were covered with books. Tall ones, short ones, fat ones, skinny ones—there were books everywhere. A large desk and a comfortable chair occupied the center of the room. In one corner lay a heap of hay and some blankets to be used as a bed. Beorf went up the ladder to close the trapdoor.
“This hiding place is safe—no one will find us here,” he said. “Welcome to my father’s lair. He was a fanatical reader. Always studying. You’ll find books on everything. Some are written in strange languages that I can’t understand. Feel free to look at them. As for me, I’m dead tired and I’m going to sleep. If you want the fireflies to turn off their lights, you just have to grunt three times. Good night, Amos.”
Beorf had barely lain down on the floor before he started snoring. Amos walked around the room, looking at the books. There must have been more than a thousand. Some were old and dusty; others seemed more recent. Amos noticed that one book was sticking out from one of the shelves. It was an old book, transcribed by hand; its title was Al-Qatrum, the Territories of Darkness. Amos took it, sat down at the desk of Beorf’s dead father, and started to read.
The book talked about a region located on the Hyperborean border, a world hidden in the earth’s belly, where the sun never shines. It was the lair of the creatures of night, the birthplace of a race of monsters who had dispersed on the earth’s surface.
To his great surprise, Amos came across a drawing representing the exact creatures Beorf had described at the inn. They were called gorgons. Their origins seemed to date far back in time. Long ago, Princess Medusa, a lovely young woman, had ruled over one of the islands of the Hyperborean great sea. Her beauty was such that Phorcys, the god of the waters, had fallen madly in love with her. Ceto, Phorcys’s sister, wanted to keep her brother’s love for herself and transformed Medusa into a repulsive and dangerous creature. To be sure that Phorcys would never meet Medusa’s gaze again, she gave the princess the power to transform into stone any living being that looked into her eyes. Each time one of Medusa’s snake-hairs bit her, the drop of blood that fell on the ground immediately became a snake that years later would change into a gorgon. It seemed that Medusa’s beautiful island still existed and was inhabited by stone statues.
Amos closed the book. Now that he knew the history of these monsters, he had to find the reason why they were attacking villagers within the realm of the Knights of Light. No doubt Beorf’s father had been trying to clear up this mystery before his death. If the book had not been put back in its proper place, it was probably because he had looked at it recently. Searching the desk drawer, Amos discovered Mr. Bromanson’s notes. On a sheet of paper, he saw a drawing of the skull pendant worn by Yaune the Purifier. Wishing to further his research, Amos continued to read.
According to Beorf’s father, Yaune the Purifier had stolen this sacred relic in his youth. At that time, he was called Yaune the Agitator. In a faraway land, he had attacked a village of sorcerers with his knights and had stolen this valuable object of black magic from a sacred temple. The pendant belonged to a cruel magician of darkness, who had been looking for it ever since. Only one of the Knights of Light had returned safe and sound to Bratel-la-Grande—none other than Yaune. He had set out as Yaune the Agitator and had been renamed Yaune the Purifier after boasting that he had vanquished all his enemies. As Yaune the Purifier, he had also been designated lord and ruler of the capital.
Everything is clear, Amos thought. Barthelemy’s father must have died during this battle. The gorgons are at the service of this magician of darkness, and as long as he does not get his pendant back, the city and its villages will remain in danger. I understand now why Yaune burns all magicians caught by his knights. He’s afraid. He knows that he does not have what it takes to fight the sorcerer.
Amos felt as if someone were watching him, and raised his head. In the darkness of the trapdoor, close to the ladder, he saw the blind cat looking at him. The animal took a few steps back and disappeared into the shadows.
—7—
THE DRUID
Amos had a hard time falling asleep. The gorgons, the skull pendant, Yaune, the cat in particular—all of them swirled in his head and made him think somber thoughts. When he woke up in the morning, he saw that Beorf had laid out breakfast on his father’s desk. There were nuts, honey, wild fruit, bread, milk, and cakes. A soft light came into the library through a round window in the ceiling. Amos could not believe his eyes.
“Where did you find all this?” he asked.
“I’ve got my hiding places,” Beorf answered as he swallowed a big piece of bread dripping with honey.
Amos took his first meal of the day with his friend. He explained in detail what he had discovered in Beorf’s father’s work. Then he told him about what had happened at the bay of caverns, his departure from the realm of Omain, and his journey with his parents to Bratel-la-Grande. Amos took the mermaid’s white stone out of the little bag that served as a pocket inside his armor. He placed it on the table.
“Look, I must go to the woods of Tarkasis to hand this stone to someone named Gwenfadrille. I’m supposed to tell her that her friend Crivannia, princess of the waters, is dead and that her realm has fallen into the hands of the merriens. I must also tell her that Crivannia chose me to be the mask wearer. If only I knew what that means. I don’t understand any of it.”
Just as Amos finished talking, the blind cat jumped from the highest shelf of the library and landed directly on the table. He grabbed the stone between his teeth and rushed toward the exit.
“I’m going to reduce you to pulp,” Beorf shouted after it. “You creepy animal!”
He morphed into his bear form and set off in pursuit of the cat, who shot up the ladder and slipped through the trapdoor. Beorf fell twice as he tried to climb after it. The first time, he fell on his backside; the second time, on his nose. The third time, he made it. Amos quickly grabbed his belongings, stuck the book Al-Qatrum, the Territories of Darkness under his arm, slung his trident over his shoulder, and climbed the ladder himself. Once outside, he followed Beorf’s pawprints. The trail led straight to Bratel-la-Grande.
To Amos’s surprise, the portcullis that protected the city was still open in spite of the mid-morning hour. But there were no peasants in the fields. Immediately Amos expected the worse. When he entered the capital, his fears were confirmed. He was aghast to see that all the dwellers had been turned to stone. The curse had spared no one.
Amos ran toward the Shield and the Sword. On his way, he met only petrified beings, their faces marked by fright. At the inn’s door he was confronted by a painful sight—a motionless Barthelemy. Amos looked in vain for his parents. He kept hoping that he would find them safe and sound: Urban and Frilla knew the power of the gorgons and had no doubt escaped in time. But when he heard the shouts of a bear in distress, he remembered Beorf and hurried in the direction of the marketplace.
The humanimal was the prisoner of huge roots. They were wrapped around his paws, body, and throat. Amos didn’t understand what had happened. How could roots have grown so fast as to immobilize his friend? Taking hold of his trident, Amos tried to free Beorf, when suddenly the voice of an old man stopped him.
“It’s no use trying to liberate your friend, Mr. Daragon. The strength of one root is equal to the power of the druid who made it grow. And although I don’t want to brag about it, a dozen or more woodcutters using heavy axes would not be able to cut these roots off.”
Amos turned his trident nervously toward the man. His challenger had a long and dirty gray beard. His hair was also very long and tangled with twigs, dead leaves, and hay. He was wearing a brown robe, stained and threadbare. Wooden clogs, a belt made of braided vines, and a long twisted walking stick completed his attire. A huge red mushroom was growing from his neck, and his hands were covered with the kind of moss that usually covers boulders. The blind cat was at his feet, rubbing his head against the man’s legs.
“Stop threatening me with
your weapon, young man! You scare me! Oh! You scare me so much!” the old druid said, laughing. “Let us talk a little instead. I must know if you are worthy of the trust Crivannia put in you before she died.”
Amos was not listening to him. “Your cat stole my white stone and I want it back right now!” he yelled.
The old man seemed surprised by Amos’s assertive tone. “Mr. Daragon is very demanding,” he snickered. “He gives me orders and threatens me with his ivory trident! It is indeed a dangerous weapon, but since it’s obvious that you don’t know how to use it properly, I don’t fear for my life.”
The druid opened his hand and Amos saw that the white stone lay between his dirty fingers.
“You already know my cat, I think,” the druid went on. “I’ve been observing you through his eyes for quite a while. You’re clever, my dear boy. I can feel your question coming: Why is this cat sometimes blind and sometimes not? Good question, Mr. Daragon! I’ll answer you now. When I look through his eyes, he’s not blind. It’s as simple as that. One more question? Yes! Am I the magician of darkness who looks for his pendant and reigns over the army of gorgons? No, Mr. Daragon, I told you, I am a druid. A druid who’s a little bit dirty, I reckon; a druid who does not always smell good, I agree; but I’m not nasty and I don’t work for the forces of darkness. Neither do I work for the forces of light. You’ll understand later on. Ah, really! You’ve another question! What am I doing here, at this hour and on this very day in the center of a city where people are now statues and with your white stone in my hand? I’ll come to that. In the meantime, be patient! It’s your turn to answer my questions. I want to know if you’re intelligent enough to become a mask wearer.”