by MJ Schutte
The last three drawings of the woman were different from the rest. In all of them she showed visible signs of aging. Again, he had a very faint feeling that he had seen this woman before, or at least someone who looks a lot like her.
‘Strange,’ Al’taish muttered, and then quickly looked around to see if the man on the chair had heard him.
The man was no longer reading. Instead, he sat looking at Al’taish with a wide grin on his face.
‘When you walked in, I thought you looked like an observant person,’ the man said as he got up. He did not bother speaking in hushed tones anymore.
‘Why do you say that?’ Al’taish asked.
‘It’s in your eyes,’ the man said with a wink.
He walked closer, stuck his hand out and said, ‘I’m Matthys Juhanus. My friends call me Matt.’
Al’taish shook the man’s hand and also introduced himself.
‘Tell me, Matt, who is the woman in the drawings?’ he asked.
‘Robyn,’ Matt answered.
‘Yes, I can see that, but who was she? Why are there so many drawings of her in this monastery?’ Al’taish said.
‘We don’t know,’ Matt answered flatly.
‘What do you mean, you don’t know?’ Al’taish frowned.
‘Exactly that. We don’t know who Robyn was. We also don’t know why there are so many drawings of her on these walls. It has been a topic of discussion for many years now. We’re hoping that someday we can work out what the numbers beneath each drawing means and get a clue as to why they exist in the first place,’ Matt replied.
Al’taish looked at the last drawing again. He walked to the far wall and looked at the first drawing, the only one without a number. He walked back to where Matt was standing and studied the numbers under the last four drawings.
‘It can’t be her age. Look, the last number is twenty four and she certainly does not look like someone that young,’ Al’taish mused.
He looked at the other drawings where Robyn showed signs of aging.
‘I wonder…’ he mumbled.
‘Yes?’ his companion said expectantly.
‘I don’t think it’s her age, but rather the years that had passed since the last drawing was made,’ Al’taish said thoughtfully.
‘What do you base that assumption on?’ Matt asked.
‘Look closely at the third last drawing and then at the next one. It looks like she had aged roughly twenty years which corresponds with the number under the drawing. Look at the last one. Again it looks as though she had aged about twenty years and the number is twenty two,’ Al’taish explained his theory.
Matt gave Al’taish a wide smile.
‘You are indeed very observant! Only a few people have noticed this. Yes, we do believe that the numbers are some sort of time frame for the drawings. Off course, there is one problem with that theory. If you add all the numbers together the answer is more than three thousand. Nobody can live that long,’ Matt replied.
Al’taish was about to argue with him, but quickly shut his mouth. Every soldier in Father’s army knew that Father and some of the Elite Corps troops are hundreds of years old, but he did not need to share this information with Matt.
After his trip to Zedonia he was beginning to doubt the existence of magic in this strange land. The drawings of a woman who lived for three thousand years had convinced him otherwise.
Al’taish took the offered plate gratefully. He did not realize how hungry he was until he saw the food. He and Matt had been sitting outside the monastery talking about Robyn and possible explanations when a young girl offered each of them a plate of cold stew and slightly moldy bread.
‘I’m sorry, Al’taish, but things are not going that well with the monastery any more. We can’t afford to waste food,’ Matt apologized.
Al’taish waved the apology off and focused on the plate in his hands. After a few bites, he looked up at Matt.
‘Why is the monastery struggling?’ he asked.
‘Many years ago this was the only monastery in Fenton, the only place where people could come for spiritual guidance and to learn about our faith. We believe that there is one spirit, or angel, that controls everything and that magic does not exist. What others perceive to be magic, we see as the deeds of the almighty spirit. Over the last two hundred years or so, more and more people have stopped believing in this nonsense of wizards and magic. Today, the believers in magic are very few, and they mostly hide their beliefs,’ Matt said.
He paused to take a bite of the cold food.
‘Then where are all the people? If the number of followers of your faith is growing, you should have more people visiting the monastery, not less,’ Al’taish frowned.
‘True, except there is something, or rather someone, chasing the people away,’ Matt replied.
‘Who?’ Al’taish asked.
‘Robyn,’ Matt replied.
‘Robyn? How can drawings of a woman…’ Al’taish said but stopped short as realization hit him.
‘Oh, I see! Your faith teaches that magic does not exist but inside the monastery there are drawings that could prove otherwise!’ he exclaimed.
‘Exactly! The believers in magic say that Robyn was a witch who helped the great wizard defeat a powerful, evil sorceress. We can’t be teaching one thing and have proof of the opposite inside our building,’ Matt said.
‘Why don’t you just demolish the monastery, or erase the drawings?’ Al’taish frowned.
‘And destroy such an intriguing piece of history?’ Matt gasped.
He shook his head and said, ‘No, that would be wrong. Someone has to preserve this monastery. There are other churches and monasteries for people to learn about the faith.’
Al’taish looked at Matt closely before saying, ‘A small part of you want to believe in magic, isn’t it?’
Matt did not answer, but his facial expression confirmed Al’taish’s statement.
The two men spoke for a while longer before Al’taish decided it was time to go to Weston. Before he left, he dug in one of the saddle bags and pulled ten gold coins he had stolen from a merchant when he first arrived in Mendin. He had been keeping the coins for fear his talent might not work on certain people and he would be forced to pay for food and accommodation.
‘Matt, I have no need for this money. Take it,’ he said as he held the coins out to the monk.
‘Al’taish! This is a small fortune!’ Matt exclaimed as Al’taish dropped the coins in his outstretched hands.
‘Preserve the drawings of Robyn. Maybe one day you will find out who she was,’ Al’taish said.
He mounted the horse and set course for Weston.
Chapter 3
Weston was an enormous city. It took Al’taish most of the day to find the palace. Although beautifully built, it was by no means as big as Al’taish had expected. It was, however, rumored to be home to the most powerful family in Mendin.
Al’taish decided to go in search of an inn where he could spend a few nights. Paying for accommodation or food was never a problem because of his talent. Whenever someone demanded money from him he simply planted a thought in their mind that he owes nothing.
Since Weston was the main trading centre in Mendin there were plenty of inns to choose from. Al’taish was tired of living between brutes, bullies and farmers so he decided on a very up-market place, The Mendin Traders Inn.
As he walked in, a middle aged woman greeted him.
‘Good day to you, sir. How may we help you?’ she said cheerfully.
‘I would like a room for a few nights,’ Al’taish replied with a smile.
‘Certainly, sir. Will you be staying alone?’ the lady asked.
‘Yes, I’m alone,’ Al’taish replied.
‘Good, I have a room for you. My name is Maria and that is my husband, Gabe,’ she answered, gesturing towards a man standing behind a counter.
Gabe waved a greeting at Al’taish and asked, ‘Do you have a horse and wagon, young man?’
‘Only a horse. It’s tied up in the front. My name is Al’taish, by the way,’ Al’taish answered.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ Gabe answered.
He rang a little bell and a young boy, perhaps fourteen years of age, came running from what Al’taish assumed to be the kitchen.
‘Albert, take Mr. Al’taish’s horse to the stables,’ Gabe instructed the boy. Albert flashed Al’taish a toothless smile and ran out the front door to do as he was instructed.
‘Why are his teeth missing?’ Al’taish frowned.
‘Albert was born mute. A year ago he was beaten by a bunch of bullies for not answering a question. We found him and took him in. We don’t have any children of our own, so it has been a real pleasure to have him around,’ Gabe explained.
It was clear to Al’taish that Gabe and Maria were two very kind people.
‘Would you like something to eat?’ Maria asked politely.
‘Yes, please,’ Al’taish replied gratefully.
Maria directed him to a table in the middle of the room but Al’taish immediately asked for the one in the far corner.
‘As you wish,’ Maria smiled.
He sat down and took a good look at the room. Being late afternoon, the room was empty except for him and Gabe. It was fairly large as far as inns go. He estimated there must be space for at least fifty people to sit and perhaps another twenty five standing. The tables were all decorated with small flowers. Looking around the room, he spotted a shield hanging against the wall behind the counter. Made from oak, it was oval shaped with gold trimmings and had a sword and a cane fitted to it. The sword and cane crossed each other in the centre of the oval dividing it into four quarters. There were four words engraved on the wood, one in each of the quarters. Al’taish got up and walked closer to read the words. He remembered what Dan the farmer had said about the wizard always carrying a cane and the witch a sword.
At the top was Truth, the bottom read Justice, on the left was Honor and on the right Fairness was written.
Al’taish also noticed a small blade fitted to the top of the cane.
‘This is a gorgeous family crest. Is it yours?’ he asked Gabe.
‘You must be from very far away. No, it’s not ours, it is the royal family’s coat of arms,’ Gabe replied.
‘It’s an unusual cane. Why is there a blade fitted to the top?’ Al’taish asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Gabe shrugged.
‘I’ve heard stories of the cane or the sword, or both, having great magical powers. Is it true?’ Al’taish asked, recalling his conversation with the guard at the wall.
Gabe’s laugh came from deep within his belly, a deep rumbling sound that brought a smile to Al’taish’s face.
‘No, my friend, there is no magic in the cane or the sword,’ Gabe chuckled.
Al’taish gently touched the cane first and then the sword. It felt like ordinary wood and steel.
‘Legends and rumors is all it is,’ Gabe commented.
Maria came into the room holding a tray with a plate of stew and some bread.
‘Goat stew and fresh bread. Would you like something to drink?’ she asked.
As Al’taish sat down he said, ‘Juice would be fine, thank you.’
Maria relayed the request to Gabe who promptly brought Al’taish a big mug of apple juice.
‘Is it always this quiet here?’ Al’taish enquired.
‘No, normally we are rather busy. To be honest, Maria and I are enjoying the quiet time. It won’t last much longer though. In a few days Prince Jonathan is due back from his visit to the Justice Hall. He enjoys Maria’s cooking so he will almost certainly come here as soon as he is back in Weston,’ Gabe answered.
‘The Justice Hall?’ Al’taish frowned.
‘Yes. It’s a place in the Farasnei forest where people can go to settle their differences. If someone has committed a crime he is also taken there for judgment and punishment. Prince Jonathan and his royal guard normally escort prisoners from Weston to the Justice Hall twice a year for the criminal trials,’ Gabe answered.
‘I hope I’m still here when he returns. I would like to meet a prince,’ Al’taish said casually.
‘I know the prince well. If you want, I can make an introduction,’ Gabe offered.
‘That would be great!’ Al’taish replied.
He smiled as Gabe walked away. Sometimes it was not necessary for him to use his gift to get what he wanted. He was certain that someone in the royal family would know something about the wizard.
Al'taish spent the next two days simply wandering the streets of Weston. He did not stay away from the inn for long since he did not want to miss the prince’s arrival. His patience was rewarded on the afternoon of the second day.
‘Prince Jonathan! So good to see you again,’ Gabe exclaimed.
The prince had just entered the inn and made his way straight toward the counter where Gabe stood.
‘Gabe, I’m glad to be back in Weston, and particularly here! I am in desperate need of your wife’s cooking,’ the prince replied.
Gabe came around the counter and gave the prince a hug as he said, ‘I heard that you were back. Maria has prepared your favorite meal already.’
‘Gabe, you and Maria spoil me. Next time I go to the Justice Hall, I am taking the two of you with me!’ Prince Jonathan laughed.
Al’taish sat in the far corner of the dining hall watching the exchange. Although the prince walked in alone Al’taish had already spotted at least five men who were there to protect Jonathan. They had been there for a while before the prince arrived but none of them drank anything but juice. Al’taish also recognized slight bulges under their coats which could only mean they were carrying weapons. The Mendin Traders Inn had a strict policy against any form of weapon allowed in the dining hall, especially when a member of the royal family was visiting.
The dining hall was roughly half filled with patrons. Mostly they drank ale or wine but a few were having a drink called paktur. Al’taish had asked Gabe about it the previous day and learnt that it was generally mixed with some kind of juice since it was exceptionally strong. According to Gabe, a few people had ended up at the healing centre after having too much paktur.
When Al’taish asked why anybody would want to drink something that could make you ill, Gabe just shrugged and said, ‘I don’t know. Perhaps they do not want to live long.’
Three more men entered the dining hall. Like the other royal protectors, these men were carrying concealed weapons. Their clothes looked perfect, not like they had been working all day and came to the inn for a drink before going home. Al’taish also noticed that Maria did not ask the three what they wanted to drink. She simply poured some juice and took it to them, like she had done with the other five earlier.
‘Al’taish, come here,’ Gabe called.
Al’taish walked over to where Gabe and the prince were standing.
‘Prince Jonathan, this is Al’taish. He is visiting from a far away land. Al’taish, this is Prince Jonathan, son of King Borac and Queen Natasja ,’ Gabe made the introduction.
Before the prince could say anything, Al’taish took a deep bow and said, ‘Prince Jonathan, I am honored to make your acquaintance.’
The prince looked stunned for a moment and then burst out laughing.
‘Al’taish, please call me Jonathan. There is no need for bowing and fancy titles,’ he replied.
‘As you wish,’ Al’taish smiled.
He shot a quick look at Gabe. Jonathan noticed and said, ‘I’ve told Gabe and Maria more times than I can remember to call me Jonathan but they insist on using the silly title.’
‘You are my prince and I shall address you appropriately,’ Gabe quickly interjected.
Jonathan and Gabe got involved in a good natured argument about titles which gave Al’taish a chance to take a good look at the younger man.
The prince looked around twenty five years old and, although not a very big man, Al’taish noticed that his m
uscles were well defined. Long black hair hung just below his shoulders and he looked at the world through dark brown eyes. He was obviously considered handsome since there were at least five young women hanging around trying to catch his eye. The prince did not notice, or pretended not to.
‘Al’taish, what is the custom where you are from? Do you call the royal family by their names or by title?’ Gabe asked.
‘Where I am from there is no royal family, only a single ruler everybody calls Father,’ Al’taish answered.
‘You’re not helping,’ Gabe accused.
‘I believe that it is up to the prince. If he prefers being called by his first name then we should respect that,’ Al’taish answered.
Jonathan laughed as he slapped Al’taish on the back.
‘Well said! Gabe, give this man some ale and add it to my tally!’ he roared.
‘Juice will be fine, thank you,’ Al’taish told Gabe.
Jonathan frowned and said, ‘You’re a strange man, Al’taish. Most people would drink as much ale as possible if someone else was paying for it.’
Al’taish just smiled as he accepted the juice from Gabe.
‘Gabe, some juice for me as well, please,’ Jonathan said.
Al’taish concentrated for just a moment and then the prince said, ‘Perhaps some ale will be in order tonight.’
The prince headed for a table, motioning for Al’taish to follow him. As they sat down Maria was on hand with two steaming plates of goat and vegetable stew and fresh bread.
‘Maria, you are a life saver!’ Jonathan exclaimed as he looked at the plate.
After draining his mug in a single swallow, his attention shifted to the delicious looking meal in front of him. At first he did not speak at all, simply enjoying his food, but when the plate was almost empty, he looked up and said, ‘I’m sorry my friend, I haven’t had a decent meal in many days. Tell me, where do you hail from?’
Al’taish had also been eating but not nearly as fast as Jonathan. He put his spoon down and replied, ‘I come from a land that can only be reached by ship, far to the north.’