The Exiled Monk

by James T Wood

  Locambius stared at her for a long time. His mouth worked trying to form words that never came. His brows went from high on his head, slowly sinking down into a deep furrow while his lips pressed together in a firm, flat line. Peek saw the clenching and unclenching of his jaw in the play of muscles under his beard. His nostrils flared wide and Locambius’ head snapped up.

  “Leave me, young sir; I would learn more.”

  Peek walked out of the hut and stood in the clearing trying to find any hope in a landscape of burnt stone populated with mourning monks. Peek looked around the area and saw wisps of smoke rising from between huts, from the garden area, and another pillar from off in the distance at the shore.

  Locambius emerged from his hut and everyone stopped. They all turned to see their leader’s reaction to the tragedy.

  “Rudi, Bracius” Locambius spoke the words in a dreadful whisper. “I have need of you.”

  Peek became an observer. Nothing he could do would help, but he couldn’t go anywhere to get away. Bracius had taken charge of the defenses during the raider attack. His bald head and scarred cheeks set him apart as a warrior amid shepherds, but he still had not attacked the raiders. Rudi was the chief teacher for the monks. Both held positions of honor that were subject to Locambius, but above most of the other monks. Peek had no idea about the internal politics of the monastery. His small village had a relatively simple power system. The chief was in charge as long as he didn’t do anything to offend too many people. He ruled over the willing, but could not compel them to do anything.

  Peek was almost the son of a chief, but his mother’s indiscretions ruined her betrothal to the chief’s son. Whenever possible the mantle of village chief passed from father to son. It made things less complicated and, usually, the village kept on functioning quite well.

  Rudi and Bracius moved toward Locambius’ hut and looked straight at Peek. He assumed they were looking past him so he didn’t move. But after a few steps Peek saw that he was their goal. It was too late to run; he thought of any possible reason these two monks might want him.

  “Will you come with us young sir?” Rudi asked.

  “We would have your outside opinion to temper ours,” Bracius added.

  Peek thought of what it might mean to oppose Locambius or to resist these two. His thoughts said that the monks were safe and peaceful. But Peek’s heart still knotted up at the thought of openly defying anyone. Lost in thought Peek realized that the two men had turned him and they were walking together toward Locambius’ hut.

  “Locambius!” Rudi bellowed as the three approached the hut.

  After a long pause the leader of the monastery stepped past the leather curtain and outside his hut. His eyes were hollow and tear-stained. His beard shot out in all direction and his rumpled robe looked more like a sack of turnips than clothing for a man.

  “Yes?” Locambius said quietly, “Good, you’re here. We must leave. We must go to the boy’s village and ask them for aid.”

  Rudi and Bracius looked at each other for a time before responding.

  “We cannot hear the wisdom of it in The Melody,” Bracius said.

  “They destroyed all our food. We will starve.” Locambius reached out with his hands, half-pleading with the men.

  “Brother, they’ve done that to every monastery from here to Terracour. We will make it through the winter and start again in the spring.” Rudi said.

  Locambius let his arms drop and they slapped at his thighs. “We will die if we don’t leave. I understand it now. I didn’t then, but now I do.”

  “What are you talking about?” Rudi asked.

  “When… when he left it was what he was talking about. I listened to The Melody and heard no clear answer. Normally the truth is plain and wisdom flows from the song. But to this question I had no answer. If we remain hidden here we will die off slowly. If we go out into the world we will die, at least some of us, quickly. Either way we die. But what I didn’t understand when he left was what we should do about it.

  “He thought that we needed to change The Melody. That’s ridiculous and blasphemous. No, we need to change ourselves, not The Melody. In a way the young sir here helped me come to this realization. If the magic had remained in place, the Markay would have stayed away and we would have been safe for a time. But we would have slowly died off with no one to join our ranks. More importantly though, we would not have been able to pass on the wisdom and power of The Melody.

  “So we must travel to the coastal village, where this young one is from, and build a new monastery there. We cannot fight the Markay raiders, but we can defend the village with our magic and give their warriors the chance to fight on our behalf. Together we can resist what we could not on our own. Then we can work to re-write our scripture and restore our order to the glory it once had.”

  Peek’s world spun. He’d only just found safety and now Locambius wanted him to return to the village and to Vlek. Peek was going to die. He started to form words to that effect when Bracius spoke instead.

  “You would have us cower behind walls while others fight our battles for us?”

  “No, dear brother. I would have us employ our skills while others employ theirs and together the result will be greater than either one alone. Is not the song of two horns more powerful? We will simply free the village warriors to battle the Markay instead of worrying about defending their village.”

  “Are we now a martial order?” Rudi asked, “Will we sell our services to the highest bidder?”

  “No, of course not. There is a mutual need between us and the village on the coast. We need a place to build our new monastery and help to fight off the raiders. They need help defending their village from the raiders and help rebuilding their village.”

  Peek heard the words but took a moment to process their import. “What has to be rebuilt,” he asked.

  “The village. It was attacked by the raiders after they left here. The daub and wattle huts did not fare as well against fire as did our stone. They will need help to rebuild and right now is the best time for our two groups to join together.”

  Peek realized then what the smoke on the horizon meant. His village burned.

  Seven

  After another twenty years passed, the disciple again rose to question his king.

  “Wise and powerful king. Your kingdom grows without war or threat of war. Your wisdom exceeds anyone living. You have brought prosperity and peace to the world. What, great one, is the source of your wisdom and power?”

  Eytskaim looked into the distance, as was his custom. All waited for his response. Yet he did not move nor respond. For a night and a day Eytskaim sat looking into nothingness. The disciple sat, slept, awoke, and still his master did not answer. So everyone jumped with a start when the king again spoke.

  “Dear friend, I still cannot share the source of my wisdom and power. Ask again at another time.”

  His disciple slowly rose and proceeded back to his seat while Eytskaim heard more questions and shared more wisdom.

  “Like rain that washes the dry ground, so music cleanses the soul.” Taurean of Gaoithe

  T

  he journey back across the sea held far less challenge for Peek physically — he sat in his canoe with Adrocus and they paddled easily back toward shore — but each stroke of the paddle felt like a death sentence. Peek tried to explain to Locambius, then Rudi, and finally Adrocus that he could not return to his village. He proposed moving to a different village. He suggested any number of isolated spots along the shore that would be more defensible than the village.

  No one cared. That’s not to say that they didn’t listen or even commiserate with him some, but the plan was set. Nothing Peek said could dissuade them. The argument between Locambius and Rudi went on for quite a while after Peek learned that the raiders had sacked his village. Most of it was retreading the same ground. Slowly, Rudi gave way. Point by point the argument shifted from whether the monks would relocate to the village to how the
relocation would happen and when it would take place.

  Once Peek saw that the monks were going to leave he looked for a way to stay away from his village. He whispered with Adrocus to see if he could remain on the island. Impossible because Peek didn’t have the magic to be able to survive. He wouldn’t be able to make fire or grow food. He could fish and hunt, but the game on the island consisted mostly of sea birds which were notoriously hard to catch. The monks had only survived due to their magic bringing rain on the garden and fire to their hearths.

  So Peek looked for a way to not return to his village with the monks. Meager survival, he reasoned, would be much better than slow death at the hands of Vlek. Before Adrocus could respond, however, Peek heard Locambius mention him. Even though it wasn’t his name, Peek knew that the “young sir” referred to him. Locambius overcame Rudi’s final objection with Peek’s presence. Peek could guide the monks and help them to find the best place to build their monastery. He knew the village and its surroundings. If they looked for another place to build they would have to start from scratch and winter was coming quickly. They needed to build shelter as soon as possible rather than spend precious time looking for a new home.

  In that moment Peek became responsible for the survival of the entire order of monks. He still wanted to flee, to try his chances on the barren island, or to paddle off into the sea hoping for anything better than Vlek. But despite his fear and hatred of Vlek, Peek couldn’t abandon the monks. In the few days on the island with them Peek had experienced more camaraderie, compassion, and care than in all his years up to that point. And even though Locambius assured him that he wasn’t at fault for the deaths of the monks, Peek wanted desperately to repay the monks for what he took from them. Unlike the slavery to Vlek, which was based on fear, violence, and anger, the monks trapped him with their openness and generosity. The bonds held him far more tightly than anything Vlek could muster. But, more than the monks in general, Peek felt responsible to Locambius. Locambius who had saved him from falling, Locambius who had welcomed him into the monastery, Locambius who had not punished him for mistakes, Locambius who had shared his own losses with Peek. He had never known a father. His own was a mystery that Rea would not share. Vlek was as far removed from a paternal figure as possible. So when Locambius offered Peek love, support, and acceptance, he had no recourse. The decision had already been made.

  And now, he paddled back toward the pain that had been his life for the sake of what had become his life.

  “I’ve heard them talking when they don’t think anyone’s listening,” Adrocus said over his shoulder to Peek while they paddled together, “They all think that there’s something special about you.”

  “What could be special about me? I’m just a bastard from a poor fishing village.”

  “But you’re the only one who’s come to our island without the key. You broke the spell without any training.” Adrocus shifted on the bench seat in between strokes with his carved wooden paddle.

  “It was an accident. Maybe it wasn’t even me. Maybe the spell wore out or something.” Peek watched the short braid of Adrocus’ hair swing back and forth with the rhythm of the boat. His braid was much shorter than those of the rest of the monks. Locambius had one of the longest braids. Peek guessed it indicated the length of time each person had been a monk.

  “I guess that’s possible. But you fought the raiders, by yourself; that was no accident. Anyway, they want you to train and learn the magic. They think you could be very powerful.”

  “Why would I want to?” Peek stabbed at the water in frustration, “You can’t use it to kill anyone who’s attacking you. What good is it?”

  “It’s more than just fighting people, you know.”

  “Sure, I know that, but the limits seem pretty arbitrary. What’s the point of having power if you can’t do what you want?”

  They paddled in silence for a while, Peek guided the canoe from the back while Adrocus provided power from the front seat. Most of the time Peek paddled on the left and Adrocus on the right, but Peek would occasionally stop paddling to turn the canoe slightly to the left or drag his paddle in the water on the right side to move the boat to the right. For all of Adrocus’ training he didn’t know much about paddling a canoe. Peek helped him through the process, but he still flailed instead of smoothly slicing through the water. They would never catch any fish with his furious splashing.

  “It’s not arbitrary,” Adrocus said eventually.

  “Someone made it up. At some point someone just decided on the rules for your magic.”

  “No, it came from The Melody.”

  “Don’t you think The Melody is just something that people made up to explain what they can’t understand?”

  “No. No, I don’t.”

  “When I was growing up they warned me to not anger the fire elves by getting too close or they would throw sparks at me to defend themselves. I believed it for a time because I saw the sparks explode from a log. Their explanation made sense of what I saw. But as I grew I learned that there are no fire elves and they don’t get angry with children. It was a story used to keep me from burning myself. But I outgrew it. How is The Melody any different?”

  “You’ve seen the magic. How can you deny it?”

  “I have seen the magic. I saw you monks do it and I saw it kill monks. If The Melody is somehow guiding you, then why have all your monasteries have been destroyed?”

  “The Melody is the source of wisdom—”

  “—and power. Locambius told me,” Peek interrupted. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Did Locambius also tell you about the goal of wisdom and power?” Adrocus looked back again, catching Peek’s eyes before returning to paddling.

  Peek nodded, “Peace.”

  “Truth,” Adrocus intoned as if Peek had just preached a sermon, “We’ll all die at some point; it’s the goal of our lives that matters.”

  Peek had no response. He chewed on the words as the sound of Adrocus’ splashing took over for the conversation. Peek thought he may have gone too far. Adrocus seemed almost offended by Peek’s questioning. But he’d spent so much time forcibly silenced and unable to share his thoughts that he now couldn’t bottle them up. Vlek’s explanations for why Peek had to work more than Cor were always speciously reasoned, yet Peek couldn’t skewer the logic or Vlek would beat him. Now Peek could give free reign to his objections and no one could stop him. Freedom.

  They continued to paddle amid the flotilla. Most boats were small, holding two or four monks. But a few of the boats were larger and had sails. They were still open designs with no decks, but they could hold a dozen monks and as much cargo. The monks took everything of value from the island, which wasn’t very much. They piled instruments into bundles. They took parchment, ink, and quills that weren’t destroyed by the raiders. But beyond that there wasn’t much to take besides the stone of the huts. Before they left the island the monks gathered around the bodies of their fallen brothers and sisters. The trumpet corps played the brassy, fiery song and they all watched as the bodies burned to ashes.

  All told there were less than a hundred monks traveling from the island to the shore. The group’s numbers, suddenly diminished by the attack of the Markay, had already been dwindling due to age and neglect. Peek understood some of what Locambius was saying: that the monks had to leave the island or they would die. It might be due to raider attacks or encroaching time, but either way the monks were doomed if they stayed on the island. They were left with no good choices. Peek understood the feeling.

  “Faith isn’t a weakness, you know.” Adrocus spoke the words so quietly that Peek barely heard them over the sound of the waves.

  “Isn’t it? Isn’t that what killed all your brothers and sisters when the raiders came? How is that not weakness?”

  “I don’t remember the book of scripture it was in, but Locambius often shared this quote: ‘It takes more strength to live at peace than it does to fight a war.’
”

  “That sounds like something the losers of a war would say to make themselves feel better,” Peek moved his paddle behind the boat and steered them true again.

  “Look, if you don’t want to be a monk, that’s fine. No one is forcing you to do it,” Adrocus shrugged, “We just have to get to your village and then you can leave.”

  Peek dropped his head for a moment before saying, “I can’t leave. Locambius said I had to connect the monks and my village.”

  “So, what’s so bad about that?” Adrocus shrugged again; Peek wanted to hit him for it.

  “Why do you think I left my village?” Peek’s voice took an edge of anger.

  Adrocus’ tone became apologetic, “I thought it was because you wanted to be a monk and you heard about our monastery.”

  “That was a part of it,” Peek’s anger lessened but didn’t evaporate, “but I didn’t know what it meant to be a monk or that you had a monastery. I just knew that I loved the feeling of the music and dancing. No, I left because I’m a bastard.”

  “So?” Another shrug from Adrocus.

  Peek slammed his paddle against the gunwales, “What do you mean ‘So?’ How can you say that?”

  “Is that a big deal in your village?” How could Adrocus be so ignorant?

  Peek struggled to keep his lips from curling into a snarl, “I guess it is. At least it is to Vlek.”

  “Who’s Vlek?”

  “He’s the one who will kill me if he sees me again,” oddly Peek didn’t feel fear or rage, just cold certainty of his fate.

  Adrocus stopped paddling and turned around to stare at Peek, “What? That can’t be right.”

  “He almost killed me once, but his son and daughter pulled him off of me,” Peek told the tale as one describing the weather for the past week, “I’m her child and I live with them— I mean I lived with them. Vlek hates me because I ruined his chance of being chief of the village. Rea, my mother, was supposed to marry the chief’s son, but she got pregnant with me and they called off the wedding.”