by Scott Zamek
Filby remembered the road, remembered his old friends, while he retreated to his over-stuffed chair by the fire—the chair where he used to spend long nights reading and sipping cardamom tea. He thought about Meadowkeep, but his hometown no longer seemed comforting; the creaking of the old oak trees outside did not sound like they once did. And the journey, it seemed long ago and far away, in another lifetime, or a lifetime lived by someone else in a land that no longer existed. Filby’s eyes began to close with sleep. The fire burned down to embers as he became caught in a long, deep slumber of dreams and faraway places.
He did not know how much time passed, but he became slowly aware of a muffled sound steadfastly intruding on his sleep.
Bam, bam, bam. Was someone pounding on the door? He awoke in a fog, then stood up and tried to rub the blur from his eyes. “At this hour? Maybe Doloby forgot something.” Then Filby realized, as he shook the vague shadows of sleep from his mind, Doloby would never be caught out this far from town after dark. He quickly grabbed a lantern and lit the wick.
Bam, bam, bam. Filby reached into his closet and tied his sword to his waist, then walked to the door and swung it wide open. There, standing on the porch before him, was a regal-looking woman he had never seen before. She was dressed in a resplendent gown that flowed down to touch the floor, and around her neck hung a silver pendant, gleaming even in the dim light of the lantern. Her hair was golden but short and well-made, as if constantly tended by the labor of many skilled hands.
Filby was caught a bit off guard by the visage standing before him, and he was more than the least bit confused. “Uh . . . may I help you?”
“Redmont, has your mind grown addled since you have returned to farming these many months?”
Filby looked closer at the golden hair, now cropped short but still recognizable. “Ethreal?”
“No one recognizes me anymore, adorned in these ridiculous clothes.” Ethreal stood and stared at Filby. “Well? Are you just going to stand there or can I enter?”
Filby could hardly believe it, and he stepped aside in a state of shock, unable to utter a single word. Ethreal moved quietly and gracefully inside, looking around at the log walls, the apple muffins piled into a pyramid on the table, the glowing embers in the hearth. She picked up a fire iron and poked the embers, then spoke over her shoulder. “I see you still have your sword.”
“Uh . . . my sword, yes.” Filby was still trying to grasp the situation, slowly returning to his senses. “Ethreal, it’s . . . it’s amazing to see–”
“I did not come to reminisce.” Ethreal waved her hand in the air as if dismissing something unimportant.
“Your clothes . . . I didn’t recognize you.” Filby could think of nothing else to say to the warrior of Effindril. She had always been matter-of-fact and to the point, but he didn’t know what the point was. If she hadn’t come to reminisce, then what?
“The clothes, yes.” Ethreal flashed Filby a sour look. “I am now the leader of my people. They expect a certain . . . decorum.”
“Leader of . . . you mean, the mountain kingdom of Effindril?”
“Yes, but there is something else I came here to ask you, Redmont.” Ethreal turned from the fire and sat in Doloby’s chair, back straight as if sitting on a throne. “The kingdom to the north of us has raided our lands, and taken many of our people prisoner. They have stolen a crown that is sacred to our people, encrusted with jewels and precious stones and said to have the power to unite all the lands. And now, I must lead a band of warriors into the northern mountains to retrieve the crown.”
Ethreal paused and stared long and hard at Filby. “The descendent of a Far Rider could be an asset on such a journey.” She looked at Filby with a glimmer of expectation in her eyes. The moon rose above the old oak trees along the Westing Road.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Scott Zamek is the author of many works of fiction and nonfiction, including state parks guides, travel articles, and writings concerning wilderness exploration and the environment. His travel memoir, One More Horizon, describes his 25,000-mile journey around the globe on a mountain bike, and has sold worldwide in a number of different formats. Fiction works include short stories, screenplays, and several acclaimed science fiction and fantasy novels. He lives and writes in Orange Springs, Florida.