Tranquility

by David Gay-Perret

  “The katana,” he murmured aloud then. He wanted to cry out in joy, as incredible as it was to find himself before that legendary saber—the weapon wielded by the Destroyer himself. Instead of crying out, though, he simply got up. The whole scene had probably lasted only seconds, because his hosts had only just noticed his collapse.

  “Are you okay?” Mehrika demanded, worry on her face.

  “Yes, of course, yes... don’t worry.... it’s just that... To see something like this in person is incredible!” He hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Excuse me, but... could I... touch it?”

  “Of course,” explained the man. “After all, it’s because of him that you and my daughter had to travel so many miles to come here.” Glaide stepped closer to the display, hoping with all of his being that touching the weapon would make something happen, that it would give some sign that he was destined to have it, and that he really was the Destroyer. He knelt before the katana, his hands moist and trembling. Quickly, he lifted the sheath, holding it close to his eyes. Though he was no expert, he could tell the weapon was incredibly well-made. The gold of the guard was covered in tiny inscriptions, almost invisible to the naked eye, and different designs covered the metal parts on the sheath. Holding his breath, Glaide placed his hand on the grip. His heart beating like a drum, he drew...

  Chapter 20

  THE sound of the metal resonated through the room, then there was silence. Finally, the young man released the breath he’d been holding in.

  Nothing had happened.

  His disappointment was short-lived, however, and he quickly became absorbed in examining the blade. It was simple, completely without any kind of engraving or decoration. However, when he moved it, the light revealed what looked like waves running down the length of the blade. The weight of the sword was more or less the same as Glaide’s own sword, but he knew that was because his was affected by the magic inherent to the weapons of protectors, unlike the katana, which meant that his was lighter than it ought to be. The katana was actually much narrower, and shorter, and it would take the young man awhile to get used to using the different shaped blade.

  Only then did the important question cross his mind: could he really ask them to let him have the blade? And if he did, he’d have to explain that he was the Destroyer, and that was what gave him the right to claim the blade. The idea had a seductive appeal; after all, the adolescent had sworn to find it, and here it was. However, he said nothing, simply continuing to examine the saber. Around him, silence reigned, so much so that he was able to calm himself and reflect more deliberately on the question.

  After a moment, the completely opposite idea began to take hold of him. “This katana is the key to the future for me, and because of it, I’ll be able to see this quest out to its end. However, the context of my taking it up was meant to be different; I was supposed to be at the temple, surrounded by my master and the monks, whose knowledge is immense. With their help, I would have been able to master it, to understand it. But what good can it really do for me, here and now? Nothing happened when I drew. Does that mean I still have more to learn before I’m ready?” He thought for a moment that he could always take the weapon, then travel to the temple, but he thought better of it almost immediately, and his mood darkened. Baras once again had an idea where he was, and it was entirely possible that the area around Mehrika’s village was currently being watched. “The longer I stay here, the more difficult it will be for me to escape his net,” he thought. “As it stands, it would be complete folly to try to carry it out of here: if Baras captured or killed me, he’d also get the blade at the same time...”

  Those thoughts clinched the matter, and the young many gently replaced the katana on its stand without a word. However, a thought sounded deep within his being: there was theoretically no one else who could use the powers of this extraordinary blade; that meant if his enemy did kill him and gain the blade, the end result would probably be no different than leaving the saber here. Glaide headed back towards his hosts as one final thought crossed his mind. If he really needed the blade one day, that would mean that all of the people would again be allies, and in that case, it would be enough to ask the elves to return to the village to collect the blade. They were probably the only ones, outside of the villagers themselves, who would be able to find the entrance.

  “So, what do you think?” Mehrika asked then. Glaide paused for a moment, trying to decide what she was asking before he made a reply.

  “It’s magnificent! I could hardly believe I was really standing before that famous katana. Such a relic, right before my own eyes... It’s incredible. There are so many legends about it...”

  “That’s true,” agreed the father. “But, most legends are based in truth, and that is why we protect it as best we can.”

  “My ancestors went to the temple regularly to make sure the weapon was safe,” added the woman. “However, things were never like they are now. This blade had never left the temple since Bren left it there, five hundred years ago, and yet today, we’ve brought it here.”

  With that, the group left the room, returning to the dining room. Mehrika suggested that she and the adolescent head out for a walk, and he gladly accepted. Truth be told, he had lots of questions, and now would be the perfect time to ask them. The two headed out to the main road which, as noon drew close, was beginning to empty out. The usual business would return in an hour or two, and it would once again be crowded.

  “How do you manage to live so independently here?” Glaide asked curiously.

  “We do actually trade with the rest of the Known Lands. There are a number of villagers who regularly travel to Ojilon or Vlatendire to buy what we can’t make ourselves, and to sell what we’ve produced. It’s actually rare for everyone to be here at the same time.” Glaide nodded at that. The place was very peaceful and welcoming, but he didn’t doubt that boredom would rear its ugly head from time to time.

  “Tell me, Mehrika,” he said, to change the subject. “Why do the villagers here... look so... well, different from everyone else I’ve met up until now?” Glaide avoided giving a reference to “asiatic” qualities, and he doubted the word would have any significance here, anyway.

  “I take after my mother,” his companion replied, “as you no doubt noticed. And as you know, she is a direct descendant of Bren, or Novak, if you prefer.”

  “So that’s because of him?” the adolescent asked in surprise. She nodded in reply.

  “According to legend, and the stories that were told to my mother and the inhabitants of this village, Novak came from beyond the forest of the elves, which lie so near to where we are... He is the only known being from this world that is not from within the Known Lands. That probably explains the differences in his physical appearance.”

  “Probably,” Glaide murmured. The monks had told him the same thing, adding that no document told where the warrior had come from. Had that been on purpose? Had Dzen learned the truth, but still decided not to put it in writing? Perhaps, and perhaps not. In the end, it really didn’t matter. The more he thought about it, though, the more one thing became clear: if this village looked so authentic, it was probably because Novak had had it constructed himself. Then, as he had become famous, half a millennia ago, he had carried his culture with him, throughout the Known Lands. His culture would have mixed with what already existed, creating the strange architecture that was so characteristic of this world.

  “And I’d be surprised if anyone even remembered that anymore,” thought the boy. “Like with so many other things, the past that they shared became distorted, changed, so that it’s all remembered wrong now.” Everything always seemed to come back to that: the thing that had suffered the most in this world was its history. The elves, dwarves, and barbarians remembered too well, their current situations witness to their refusal to accept the present. But was the condition of men really any better? Instead of fighting, they hoped that their historic hero, the Destroyer, would save them, though they
’d done their best to forget his time period. During the time he’d passed with Jeremy, Gwenn, and Emily, he’d learned many things, but since traveling alone, it seemed like all that he’d learned before had been proven false!

  “Rather than a warrior, aren’t I really more of a messenger of the truth? Before going into battle, isn’t my real mission to bring the people together, so that they all remember the same past—one that matches what happened, but that is well and truly relegated to the past?”

  The two young people chatted for a long time as they wandered about the village. Finally, her mother came to tell them lunch was ready, and they headed inside to enjoy another selection of new and exotic dishes.

  In the days to come, the young man took full advantage of the hospitality offered to him. He tried to keep in mind that he needed to leave soon, and that every day, his enemy was tightening the net around him, but life here was so peaceful, and so removed from the rest of the world, that he often found himself wishing he’d never have to leave.

  He found himself torn between the two ideas; his determination wavered when faced with the sheer magnitude of the task in front of him, and in those moments of doubt, the easy solution presented itself: he could just stay here. On the other hand, though, memories of his friends, his master, and all of the others he’d met would come back. During those moments of reminiscing, he felt a desire to act rise up in him, which pushed him to leave immediately.

  Trying to reconcile those two contradicting ideas, he decided to stay in the village until he managed to meet with the elves. Just as he had travelled into the depths of Oclin-Fer to meet the dwarf king, he was ready to press into the depths of the forest to speak with the leader of the elves. With that goal in mind, he asked his hosts for information, but, though they assured him they were on good terms with that people, they had no way to ask for an audience with them.

  And so time passed, tranquil, but also almost monotonous. And still, Glaide had no news of the elves. It was impossible to know if those he’d saved in Zakorth had interceded on his behalf, and to his great dismay, he eventually had to give up on meeting them.

  Finally, one morning he woke up and realized that it had been nearly a week since he’d arrived, and it was certainly about time for him to leave. That decision was always a difficult one, but, just like in the past, he began to think about everything that was waiting for him: travel, adventure, opportunities to meet new people... And maybe, his friends were waiting for him in that future...

  Bit by bit, he began to forget how apprehensive he’d been, and he felt impatience building up in him. He decided to set the date for his departure as the next day, early in the morning, before anyone was awake.

  Glaide and Mehrika stayed outside for a long time that evening, lying side by side in the grass as the sun went down, enjoying the gleaming colors. Neither of them spoke; words weren’t necessary. Silence hung in the air, seeming like a final goodbye to Glaide, even if his companion remained unaware of it. He wanted to leave quietly, avoiding all of the farewells, but this evening, he wished the sun would never set. At the price of great effort, he pushed the memories of his journey between Zakorth and this village far into the back of his mind. He’d have time to think on them more later, but for the moment, they brought only pain.

  Night fell and when, just before going to bed, the adolescent wished everyone in the house good night, it was with a voice pierced through with sadness, and probably at least a little regret...

  Chapter 21

  GLAIDE woke before the sun. He turned his ear on his surroundings, and soon determined that the house—the whole village, really—was still silent. Quietly, he put on his traveling clothes, which had already been laundered. He looked longingly at the bed one last time, then left the room, heading down the stairs carefully, trying not to let them give off the tiniest creak. He found his boots near the front door, and approached them on tiptoes, putting them on while searching for any sign that he might have woken someone. Just as he went to open the sliding panel that acted as a front door for the place, he jumped, startled by the gentle feminine voice that reached his ears.

  “So it’s today.”

  Once he recovered from his surprise, the young man determined where the voice, which must have been that of Mehrika’s mother, had come from. With a small sigh, he returned to the main room, then headed towards the garden. The panel there was partially open, and he pushed it silently to the side, then stepped out into the fresh morning air.

  The woman was there, sitting in a chair, her back to the boy. Her gaze was fixed on the woods and the hill that Glaide had approached the village from, and which he would use to leave it again. She didn’t turn around, even as the boy slid the panel carefully closed again. He moved closer to her, taking a seat in the chair at her side.

  “So, you decided today was the day?” she asked, her voice quiet.

  “Yes... I didn't want to be rude, disappearing like that, but I hate farewells...” The woman smile a bit in reply, but said nothing. “Thank you so much for your hospitality, but if I stay here, I risk bringing you a great deal of trouble.”

  “And you wouldn’t find your friends if you did, or accomplish any of the things you need to.”

  Her words surprised the young man, and he wondered to himself if Mehrika had revealed his identity. The woman said nothing more on the subject, however. Finally, it was Glaide who spoke.

  “Please tell your husband how thankful I am for everything. And please ask Mehrika to forgive me for not being able to give her what she wanted.” The woman nodded. The adolescent realized then that the sky was already beginning to lighten, and it would be only minutes before the sun began to rise.

  “Where do you plan to go from here?” the woman asked.

  “I haven’t really thought about it. I thought I might head towards Ojilon, then I might go to Shinozuka.” Then, he added to himself, “But first, I have to lose Baras’ minions...” The woman pushed a sack that he hadn’t noticed before towards him.

  “Take it. There are some supplies in there. I’m sure you’ll have need of them.” The young man did as he was told, even as he realized that he’d completely overlooked that “detail” of his travels. “I really lost all track of reality while I was here, didn’t I?” he thought to himself. “Normally, I would never forget to gather some food together before leaving somewhere!” There was a moment of silence before he spoke again.

  “I should go. Thank you so much for how welcome you made me feel, and please don’t forget to pass on my messages.” She made no reply, instead giving him a simple smile and nod. The adolescent picked up the bag, then headed for the small gate that opened onto the main road. Without a backward glance, he left the garden and headed for the hill. He felt Mehrika’s mother’s eyes on his back, but he didn’t turn around, and instead began to climb the bank that led up to the forest he’d have to pass through to return to the Known Lands. He’d only managed about half of the hill when he heard his name being called.

  “Glaide, Glaide!” The voice belonged to a man, and Glaide turned back to see Mehrika’s father running towards him.

  “Yep, I’m sure making it out of here inconspicuously,” he thought to himself. The man held something in his hand, though Glaide couldn't make out what it was. He stopped, giving his host a moment to catch up to him. When he did, the man was out of breath, but he quickly gasped out a few words.

  “We wanted... to give... you this.” With those words, he held out the object he was carrying. Glaide’s heart skipped a beat when he recognized the dark red sheath, and the golden guard. He took the weapon almost feverishly, and drew it immediately. It still gleamed, looking as though the many years it had seen had had no impact on it. For a moment, he felt like he’d gotten a glimpse of the power it held.

  The danger was too great, however. In a few moments, he would leave the safety of this village, and he couldn’t be sure he’d be able to protect the weapon. He sheathed it again, then held it back out t
o the man.

  “I can’t accept it. This is your heritage, and the heritage of this world. It is no ordinary blade.”

  “And we know that better than anyone. My wife and her ancestors have protected it throughout the ages. But today, we all agree that we want to give it to you.” He pushed it back into the adolescent’s hand. Again, the boy wondered if Mehrika had revealed to them that he was the Destroyer. He knew that his hosts considered themselves deep in his debt, but offering him this weapon was far more than a simple thanks; this blade carried with it the future of this world.

  “If no one does anything,” Glaide thought to himself, “Galadria will be lost. I’m the person in the best position to do something about that, even if many dangers lie before me. Perhaps it’s time for someone to make use of this blade once again.” His heart beat fast as he let the weapon lay across his open hands, and he bowed his head at the man.

  “No price can be placed on a gift like this. I’ll do my best to put it to good use.”

  “I’m sure you will,” the man replied with a small smile. The adolescent felt his heart trying to beat right out of his chest, he was so thrilled and excited. At long last, he possessed the legendary weapon! This was the first step in his fight against Baras. No, more than that, it was the first victory, because the god had been unable to prevent the Destroyer from laying his hands on the weapon.

  The young man tried to tamp down his elation—after all, he still had to make it out of the forest, which wasn’t likely to be an easy task. This gift, however—one he hadn’t been expecting at all!—filled his imagination with all kinds of images. The words of Ralon and Koeris came back to him then, and he realized that now, he could verify their words himself! All of his sadness at leaving had evaporated by now. However, a certain amount of the shame remained, which grew as Mehrika drew towards him. Her father heard her coming, but before she joined them, he gave the young man a friendly blow to the back and declared, “I hope you enjoyed your stay. Come back whenever you like; you’ll always be welcome here. Now, take care of yourself!” Then, before the boy could give a reply, the man went to rejoin his wife, who’d left the garden and now stood in the middle of the main road. They turned towards him just as Mehrika reached him. She smiled brightly at him when she spoke.