by DB King
Alec put it out of his mind as he led the boys to the front gate of the Archon Tower. They followed obediently, chattering about the fun they’d have in the woods and the forestcraft they’d no doubt be learning from Alec that day. In truth, he hadn’t given much thought at all to his lessons today. I’ll need to pull up one of Tanuin’s teachings, he thought, the mental image of the elven ranger enough to make him grin. Funny I should be thinking of him, right after Master Abel mentioned the man…
A strange coincidence, to be sure. Greater events than Alec’s life have hinged upon such coincidences. It was no accident that the elven ranger was at the forefront of Alec’s thoughts that sunny Sunday morning.
Very shortly, he’d be hearing from his old friend for the first time in five years. And what he learned would change his life forever.
Chapter 2
The front gates of the Archon Tower were manned day and night. While the monks who devoted themselves to learning and study abhorred violence, they felt no hypocrisy in hiring others to maintain the peace for them. The guards at the gate knew Alec by sight, of course. The weekly trip to the woods just behind the grounds was practically the only time they needed to do anything.
“Good morning, Alec,” a broad-shouldered guard said as he approached, lifting a gauntleted fist. “Taking the kids out for a stroll?”
The man never failed to laugh at this joke. As if one man could father all these children, Alec thought to himself. He’d need to have at least six or seven wives in order to do that…
The thought of it made him blush. He returned the guard’s half-hearted salute, trying not to think too hard about the meaning behind the joke. “Abel wants us to clear out before the Archmage arrives,” Alec explained.
“Can’t blame you there,” the guard snorted. “Hellfire, I’d come along with you if they’d let me. The monks are going to be twice as prickly with that old graybeard running around today. Gonna be like walking on eggshells from sunup to dusk.”
Alec laughed. “We should be back shortly after dusk,” he said. “Master Abel, ah… suggested I keep the boys out a little later than usual. We packed food for the trip.”
“Ah, camping is it?” The guard looked almost wistful. “You just take care now, Alec. These boys know the woods are filled with grumpkins, don’t they?”
Abel put a hand on his forehead. Oh great…
Several of the boys hooted with laughter. But poor Thomas looked as if he might jump out of his skin. “Grumpkins!? There are monsters in the woods?”
“The woods are perfectly safe,” Alec assured the boys. “He’s just playing a joke on you.”
“Oh, no joke!” The guard’s face looked less serious than ever. “Grumpkins with big, sharp fangs! Love to eat little boys! Yum yum, gobble them up!”
Now more boys than just Thomas looked afraid. Alec might have a small-scale revolt on his hands. On the day he needed trouble the least.
“I want to go back!” Thomas whimpered, the beginnings of tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “I don’t want to get eaten by a grumpkin!”
“There’s no such thing—” Alec began, intending to chastise both the guard and the boys. Damn it, Master Abel wanted them gone before the Archmage arrived! If he came down from his tower and saw the boys shaking and sputtering, Alec would be on dish scrubbing duty until after he chose his Vocation!
A voice bellowed from outside the Temple. “Open the gate!”
Everyone froze. That was not a voice Alec recognized. From the look on the guard’s face, he’d never heard it before, either.
Through the crisscross slats that formed the portcullis of the Archon Temple’s gate, a messenger on a white horse approached. The man’s robes were made of fine silk, the deep green of a forest floor. A bow hung from his back, protruding from between the man’s shoulder blades as he rode for the gate. Long blonde hair reached almost all the way down to his waist, giving the messenger an almost girlish look.
Wait. Alec’s heart leapt into his throat. That wasn’t a man riding the white horse.
“An elf…” Alec whispered, his eyes going as wide as the Temple’s dinner plates. Behind him, the boys stilled into silence. Most of them were too young to remember Tanuin’s last visit, and they’d never seen Alec look like this before.
The guard reacted as if he’d been struck by a whip. “Open the gates!” the man roared. “At once!”
The guards hidden in the gate tugged at the massive crane, sliding the heavy crisscrossed wall of bars upward into the mass of the Archon Tower’s wall. The elf waited just beyond the gate until it was over his horse’s head, then rode right through. Alec’s heart fell—despite his first impression, this was not Tanuin. The elven ranger had not come back to the Tower after five years away—but some other elf had. What did that mean?
The guard bowed swiftly, following the Tower’s protocol. “Master Elf. You are very welcome in the House of the Archon. What business brings you to our Temple?”
A look of mirth filled the elf’s eyes as he scanned Alec and his boys. Alec colored with awkwardness, realizing he must look like a nursemaid taking a bunch of babes out for a walk. He certainly didn’t appear to be the sort of man who deserved to be taken seriously.
“I have an urgent message,” the rider said, pulling a cream-colored envelope from a pocket in his robes. “It needs to be delivered today.”
Something in the guard’s posture relaxed. “Ah, very good. For Master Matthias, then? Or perhaps this missive is for Archmage Diamondspear himself? You did say it had to be delivered today, and the Archmage has chosen this day to visit the Archon Temple…”
A strange smile flickered across the elf’s face. “No. This letter is for Alec.”
Alec’s jaw dropped open. The elf wanted to speak to him!?
The elf hopped down from his horse. His boots were leather, so much softer looking than anything produced by the artisans nearby. As he dismounted, he gave Alec a quick, respectful bow—as if Alec were someone who deserved to be bowed to.
How does he know who I am? Alec wondered. This messenger’s behavior seemed strange, indeed.
“I have the letter,” the elf said, “and this package.” The second item was in the horse’s saddlebags: a small, leather-wrapped package. The leather smelled faintly of some rich, elvish herb, and felt softer than the sheets Alec wrapped around his body each night.
It took several moments for the guard to recover enough to speak. He had to cough before he could, as if he’d had to knock something loose in his throat to let the words flow out.
“Master Elf,” he said, recovering slightly, “the hospitality of the Archon Temple is open to you. Although, as I’ve said, today is an auspicious day and the Temple elders likely cannot provide you with the reception you deserve. Will you be staying with us?”
The elf shook his head. “Better they didn’t know I was here,” he said, his face filled with that strange look as he climbed back onto his horse. “You take good care of those things, Alec. Bring them with you on your trip to the woods today.”
Alec’s shock deepened. How did he know that’s where I was going…?
Because you’re leading all the boys in the Temple, he chided himself. Where else would you be going?
Yet he hadn’t told the man his name. And the elf looked at him as if he knew him, as if he’d heard about him from…?
Tanuin, Alec thought, his hands beginning to shake. The ranger. He’s alive! These must be from him!
He longed to tear the seal off the envelope right then and there, to pore over its contents. But something told him to be cautious. He tucked the package away for the moment, holding the envelope in his trembling hands.
With another smart bow, the elvish rider took off into the woods. His horse’s hooves thundered like a hurricane, kicking up a spray of leaves and dust in the morning air as he raced away. The guard watched him go, completely poleaxed. The poor man looked as if he wasn’t sure whether to believe what he’d just see
n.
“We’ll return tonight,” Alec assured the man, guiding the boys out of the gate. The guard watched them go without saying a word—Alec got the distinct impression he’d be shocked for some time.
Once the group had reached the treeline, far enough that they couldn’t be heard inside the Tower proper, the boys’ curiosity reached a fever pitch. “Open it!” they demanded, wanting to see what was in the package just as much as he did. “It must be from your ranger friend!”
First, Alec opened the envelope. The tremor he’d only just managed to banish from his hands returned with a vengeance as he took the fine, silky paper from the envelope and held it before him. Only elves made paper so fine. The handwriting was easy and unhurried, written in long, sloping cursive letters Alec recognized.
Tanuin’s handwriting.
Hello Alec, the ranger had written to him. It’s been a long time, and I dearly wish I were speaking these words to your face, rather than writing them in a letter. I miss our chats within the Archon Tower greatly.
“It’s Tanuin,” he whispered, exciting the boys into a frenzy. “He is alive! But then, why hasn’t he come back?”
The letter’s writer had clearly anticipated this. I’m sure you’ve heard rumors that I’ve died in the last five years, Tanuin wrote with his elvish humor. The monks have no doubt been telling you that I’m dead in a ditch somewhere with an orc’s dagger in my back, or perhaps that I’ve been eaten by a particularly fierce grumpkin. Their hopes, I fear, have been dashed. I am perfectly fine, and I remain your friend. Despite the years that separate us.
Were I able to, I would deliver this news, and this gift, to you myself. Alas, I am unable. The time is not right yet. Trust that I will meet you when you need me the most. As this letter meets you today—at least, I hope it has found you on the proper day. For you see, there is something the monks of the Archon Tower have failed to tell you.
Alec’s heart beat faster. A secret? What was it?
If this letter has arrived on the proper day, it should be four weeks exactly before the date you believe to be your birthday, Tanuin wrote.
It was. Wait—what did he mean, the date he ‘believed’ to be his birthday?
There’s no easy way to say this, Alec, Tanuin wrote. Your birthday is not four weeks from now. In truth, your eighteenth birthday is on the Tenth Sunday of Summer—which, if this letter has traveled through the proper channels, will be today. Happy birthday, by the way.
Alec’s confusion with every word he read. He supposed it was a shock to find his date of birth was four weeks away from what he’d always thought it was, but it didn’t make that much difference, did it? Surely nothing that required a secret letter to correct. He had less time to decide his Vocation, that was certain—but if he didn’t tell the monks, it would make no difference. Unless the monks already knew?
I think you will find today is a birthday unlike any you’ve had before. What that means exactly, I cannot say—only that before the day is through, it shall prove to be a momentous occasion. You must ensure you are prepared, which is where your gift comes in. If you haven’t opened it yet, go ahead and do so now.
Always the sort of man who followed instructions to the letter, Alec set the envelope away and pulled out the leather-bound package. It opened beneath his nails easily, the catches falling away as if they’d been designed just for his fingers. Within, he found something that made him—and all the boys—gasp.
A dagger lay within the leather pouch. One Alec would have recognized anywhere.
The boys let out appreciative oohs and aahs at the sight of the weapon. “Nice dagger,” Marcus said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Alec held it up, catching the light across its edge. “It belongs to Tanuin,” Alec said, shocked. “Belonged, I suppose. He’s given it to me. His long-bladed dagger… boys, Tanuin told me so many stories about this dagger!”
The boys crowded in closer. They loved nothing more than a good story.
“Tanuin slew many monsters with this weapon,” Alec explained, taking it in a back-handed stance and testing it against the air. “Wolves, lions, manticores—anything that threatened the good people of the forest. He baptized this steel in their blood.”
Although, looking at the dagger, it didn’t seem all that storied of a weapon. Far more likely Tanuin was pulling the leg of a young child—and making himself seem like more of a great hero than the elven ranger had truly proven himself to be. Still, it felt likely that the blade had brought down a beast or two.
“So he’s given it to you,” Marcus said. The child, bolder than most, had reached out to graze a finger along the edge of Tanuin’s dagger. “Is it a birthday present or something?”
“I suppose so,” Alec said. He tucked the letter into his robes and strapped the dagger to his belt, thinking deeply. What did it mean that his old friend had chosen today of all days to get back in contact with him? And what did he mean when he said today would be a ‘momentous occasion?’
Alec had no idea. But he knew that whatever happened, it would have to wait until after forestcraft lessons.
“Come along then,” he said, hustling the boys into the woods. They’d loiter by the gates of the Temple all day if he’d let them. For a moment, his gaze lingered on the gatehouse, the thought of going back to the monks and asking about the letter and the strange dagger at the forefront of his mind. Master Abel wouldn’t be any help, but perhaps Master Matthias would know more?
He dismissed the thought. By now, Archmage Uriel Diamondspear would be within the Temple grounds, and Abel had been quite emphatic that neither hide nor hair of any of the boys be seen while the Archmage took his tour. He’d ask a friendly monk when he returned.
In short order, the boys made their way through the forest. Alec stayed at the head of the formation, with Marcus, the oldest boy, bringing up the rear. Every visit to the forest carried some degree of risk, though there hadn’t been a serious monster sighting in these parts for many years now. Alec didn’t like the thought of any of the boys wandering too far from sight, potentially getting hurt, but unfortunately he’d yet to find a way to have eyes in the back of his head.
He wished he did today, however. The forest felt… different somehow that Sunday morning. Less bright than usual, more filled with foreboding. Perhaps it’s just Tanuin’s letter, Alec thought to himself. I’ll put it out of my mind. There’s no sense in dwelling on it until we return.
Was it merely Tanuin’s strange letter giving him these feelings? Or did his mind seize on something else—some feeling in the air?
As he thought it, Marcus gave a whoop from the back of the pack. “We’re passing the Crypt, Alec!” he yelled, tossing a fist into the air.
As one, every boy in the formation turned. A cracked edifice of gray stone rose like a sleeping giant from a nearby hill. Vines twisted and curled around columns of marble, spreading leaves in bright, poisonous colors. A set of broken stairs led up into a doorway in the building, through which it was far too dark to see clearly.
Most of the boys shivered at the sight of the Crypt. Marcus, however, looked worryingly excited by it. The monks at the Archon Temple refused to answer questions about this strange building, despite the fact that it was so near it practically lay in the Temple’s shadow. Alec thought the building even looked a bit like the Temple, though he’d never said so out loud.
“The door’s open,” Marcus said, his voice tinged with wonder.
“The door’s always open,” another one of the boys said derisively. Alec noticed Thomas make a sign at the sight of the Crypt, then refused to look at it any longer.
“The Crypt is forbidden,” Alec said, not unkindly. “It’s very old, and in a state of total disrepair. You could hurt yourselves in there—or something could fall on your heads!”
Lacking guidance from the monks, he’d made up this excuse years ago. It mollified most of the boys, as they feared what might be inside. Still, Marcus looked as if he wanted to race up those stai
rs and see for himself. He paced in place, nibbling his bottom lip at the rectangle of darkness in the granite front.
Alec wished he didn’t understand as well as he did. Once, as a boy, he’d snuck out in the evening from the Temple grounds to visit the Crypt. His mind had buzzed with visions of what might be in there—the monks remained so tight-lipped about the whole thing. Did it hold treasure? Perhaps it was the resting place of the previous leaders of the Temple: being called the Crypt, that would make sense. Either way, Alec had wanted to know.
So as darkness fell over the forest, he’d made his way through that black gateway, torch in hand. He’d found a series of stairs just within the door, leading downwards so steeply that he nearly fell several times.
At the bottom of the stairs had been a large, ornate door, like nothing he’d ever seen.
He’d tried the door two or three times, his imagination filling with wondrous scenes of all the treasure that must be just behind it. He’d been just about to try fitting his fingers in the crack in the center of the door when something roared.
The wide door had opened a crack then, and something ghastly had been shifting in the darkness just beyond. Something that flowed like water—that moved in ways things should not move.
He’d run all the way back to the Temple. And for the rest of his young life, he’d given the Crypt a wide berth. No one had ever heard the story of his misadventure, and no one ever would.
And yet, Alec thought as he led the boys away, I recognize that look in Marcus’s eyes. He wants to see it for himself. He thinks there’s treasure or magic in there. He’s just like me. He’ll never be satisfied with the gray walls of the Temple.
Maybe that was true. And if so, perhaps it would be better for him to remain at the Temple. Here, he could protect the boys from harm. He could keep them from wandering into the Crypt, or doing a dozen other things that the monks kept forbidden.
These children were like his brothers. If anything happened to them, he’d…
Now that’s not the thought I want to replace Tanuin’s letter with, Alec chided himself. How’d I get so glum today, anyhow?