“Do you now understand, my son, why men are to be feared?”
The tears that welled upon the eyelids of Riverpaw never fell. They instead burned off in the heat of the young bear’s rage.
“They will pay with blood!” Riverpaw croaked. “I’ll rip the flesh from their bones for what they’ve done! I’ll crush their bodies to pulp! I’ll-I’ll–”
“Riverpaw,” said Whiteclaw calmly. “They react in fear. I knew this before I went into the village.”
“Why?” screamed Riverpaw. “Why? We have done nothing to them. We would have gladly bartered for clothes, were it not for their prejudices. We do nothing that they do not do themselves. We live our lives protecting our land and our families, no differently than they do, and yet they attack us without compassion as if we were monsters. Does a man lose his eye for theft? Does he? I hate them!”
Riverpaw ran at the nearest tree and swung at it with all of his frustration and rage. It splintered upon impact and fell to the ground. Evercloud sat, quiet as a mouse, wishing he could disappear. He knew that he hadn’t caused Whiteclaw’s wound and he knew that when Riverpaw spoke of men, he was not referring to him, but he was human and felt guilt. Whiteclaw walked over to his son and touched him with his paw.
“Channel your anger. We quest for change.” Riverpaw looked at his father and the hatred melted from his eyes. “From the moment we left the kingdom, everything that we do is for change. We quest for the knowledge and the power of the Ancients so that we can unite the beings of Ephanlarea under the knowledge of what is right. We quest for peace. We quest for our lives and our souls. Channel your anger, my son. Evercloud is our hope. We cannot fail.”
Riverpaw’s eyes once again filled with tears and this time they fell freely to the fur on his face. He swung his head over to Evercloud and Evercloud’s heart stung with the reflection of pain that he could see in his cousin’s face. Evercloud stood and walked over to the bears, resting each of his hands upon them.
“You are my family and your pain is mine. What must I do?”
Whiteclaw took a bag from around his neck and handed it to Evercloud. Evercloud looked inside and found clothing.
“The plan continues. Go to the stream,” said Whiteclaw.
Evercloud did as he was told.
The water felt good on Evercloud’s skin. Cool and crisp. Evercloud took a stone from the stream’s bed and used it to scrub against himself. Partially because he knew that the stone would help remove the dirt from his body, but he also scrubbed himself with the stone as a sort of penance. There was no logic for it, but he felt responsible for what had happened to Whiteclaw. He scrubbed his skin until it was red, grimacing as he dragged it across his body. It was sobering; it somehow made him feel better. When he finished, he waded back to the bank and unsheathed his claw. He began to cut the dreaded locks from his head. One by one, he sawed them loose and watched as they floated away downstream. It took him a few minutes to cut out all of the dreaded locks of his hair, but once he had, he set to shaving off what remained. He knew that he had to do a thorough job or it would not seem convincing. His mission was to blend in, to not be noticed. He was sure that men in the village didn’t shave their heads by themselves in streams. He must not miss a spot. He dragged the blades of the claw across his scalp with precision, guiding it along with his fingers. Over and over, he dragged the blade until he was sure that he had gotten every bit. When he had finished, he ran his palm over his head, feeling the transformation. That is exactly how it felt, like a transformation. This was when everything needed to change. There could be no more failure. No more giving it your best shot. He dipped his bare head into the water and ran his hands over his smooth scalp. This was his metamorphosis.
He got out of the stream and shook what water he could off of his body. Then he reached for the bag that contained his new clothes and opened it. He pulled out a pair of leather trousers and stepped into them. As he pulled them up, he realized that they were a bit too big, but he drew the string that had been laced through the waist and tied them as tightly as he could. A pair of leather boots was also in the bag and thankfully, they fit well. Lastly, there was a brown shirt made of some rough fabric. It chafed Evercloud’s skin as he put it on. He was not used to wearing shirts, especially in the heat. Thankfully, the shirt was armless. Evercloud looked at his reflection in the stream and did not seem as fearsome as he had felt after cutting his hair off. He wanted to look like a warrior, yet he looked rather common. I suppose that’s the point, he thought to himself.
Evercloud returned to Whiteclaw and Riverpaw to find Whiteclaw drawing with his claw into the sand. Riverpaw was watching intently. When Whiteclaw saw Evercloud, he motioned for him to come over and sit next to him.
“I was going over the plan with Riverpaw while you were away. This is what we will need you to do.” Evercloud sat down and pulled at his shirt as Whiteclaw detailed the plan. “Your main objective will be to enter the village and learn whatever you can from the villagers about any rumors of the Ancients. It is important for you to learn as much as you can without raising suspicions. Be careful of how you enter into conversations with people. Most humans worship the Holy and will not take kindly to talk of the Ancients. I have heard that in some villages it is prohibited by the law to do so. That is where Riverpaw and myself will come in. When you enter the village, first go to the authorities and tell them that you are from Yorebrook and that you were assaulted by bandits just outside of the village. That should send them out of the village where Riverpaw and I will be waiting for them. This should free you to ask questions without being reported. After you have spoken to the authorities, I would suggest visiting a tavern. Humans have been known to be friendlier when imbibing ales. Also, make sure before you leave the village to visit a medic and purchase a salve for open wounds. My head wound should be treated and we may find the salve handy in the future. Here is some of the currency used by humans.” Whiteclaw then looked sternly at Evercloud. “Only use it on purchasing the salve.” Evercloud nodded and Whiteclaw continued. “Once the sun is roughly two hours from setting, leave the village and follow the stream south. Riverpaw and myself will catch up to you there. Have you got all that?”
“Yes, Uncle.”
“Good, now go ahead. You’ll need as much time as possible.” Evercloud stood and began to walk south toward the village. “Oh, and Evercloud,” Whiteclaw called after him. “Make sure to use a human name. Don’t use your real name.”
“Yes, Uncle,” Evercloud called out and turned back south. Well, he thought, this is it.
Poor Ale and A Fine Bear
Evercloud tried to keep his head down as he walked into the village. It was just about midday and the streets of Hendrick were full of people tending to their daily business. Evercloud had never seen so many humans before. He felt alien. Everything was so foreign about these people who looked just like he did. The way they dressed and the way that they walked and even their smell seemed so exotic. He was unable to keep his head down for very long and before he knew what he was doing, he began gawking at people as they passed him on the street.
“Whatchoo lookin’ at?” said a man Evercloud was staring at. The man startled Evercloud. He wasn’t aware that he had been doing anything wrong.
“Sorry,” he uttered, turning his head back to the path in front of him and walking quickly away from the man. They’re going to figure you out, thought Evercloud. He vowed to keep his head down until he reached the village authorities, but it wasn’t long before his senses and curiosities betrayed him again. A woman with long blonde hair and a violet dress was coming toward him as he walked. As she came closer, he noticed that she smelled of the most wonderful fragrance. He wondered what it might be. As she began to pass him he turned his head toward her and sniffed at her, intoxicated by her fragrance.
“How rude,” the woman said and slapped Evercloud on the cheek. Many villagers who had seen what happened began to point and laugh at Evercloud. His face turned b
right red and he shuffled away from the scene as quickly as he could, enveloped in the heat of embarrassment.
The slap to the face had been enough to remind Evercloud to mind his business and it wasn’t long before he had found what seemed to be a village officer. The man was standing outside of the bakery, looking around at the crowds, doing everything that he could to seem imposing and important. Standing tall, arms folded, eyeing suspicious characters. He wore a funny little hat that had a star upon it. He reminded Evercloud of the castle guards back on Gray Mountain. The fellow was taller than most, but he was also rounder than most and had a funny little growth of hair on his upper lip. Evercloud laughed to himself that this man was counted on to protect the villagers. He gathered himself and approached the man.
“Excuse me, sir,” said Evercloud. The officer looked at him and twitched his mustache, squinting his eyes a bit.
“Yes. What is it?”
“Sir, I was traveling this morning from Yorebrook when just outside of your village, I was ambushed by a group of bandits. They stole everything I had, except for my clothes.”
The officer squinted even more. “Yorebrook, eh. Well that explains why I don’t recognize you. What’s your name, lad?”
Evercloud searched his mind for a name. He’d forgotten to come up with one. What is a man name? he thought. Then he remembered that the game he and Riverpaw played so often, Johnball, was named for a man.
“John. My name is John. I’m from Yorebrook.” Evercloud was beginning to sweat a little.
The officer tilted his head sideways and twitched his mustache again. “And your last name?”
Last name? thought Evercloud. What’s a last name? Evercloud was beginning to panic now and blurted out the first thing he thought of.
“Ball.”
“Did you say Ball? John Ball?” asked the officer.
Evercloud’s head shrank back to his shoulders as he tentatively answered: “Yes?”
“Well why didn’t you say so?” laughed the man and patted Evercloud on the shoulder. “Didn’t know Old George had a boy. How’s Old George doing these days?”
“He’s…well,” choked Evercloud.
“He won’t be too happy to hear you’ve been robbed by bandits, now will he?”
“No, sir.”
“Well don’t you worry, John,” the man said, twitching his mustache and hefting up his girth. “We’ll get those bandits. How many did you say there were?”
Evercloud tried to come up with a number that would get all the officers out of the village. “Ten?”
“Ten, you say? Well, this is serious. You done a good job coming to get me, boy. It’ll take all the officers to get this job done. You stop by the jailhouse later and we’ll have em, you’ll see.”
“Thank you, sir.”
And with a final twitch of the mustache, the hefty man waddled away faster than Evercloud had thought anyone could waddle. Evercloud smiled, he couldn’t believe his luck. Johnball. Wait till Riverpaw hears this.
Evercloud walked through the village trying to find a pub or a tavern where people were gathered. He felt a bit more confident after having successfully tricked the officer. The first tavern he came across took the name of the village, Hendrick Tavern. He went inside and looked around. The tavern was rather dingy and there were not many windows. He wondered why anyone would want to come into such a morose place on such a nice day. There were a few groups of people sitting at tables, but they were seated facing each other, backs to the rest of the tavern. Evercloud thought that it might be difficult to engage them in conversation. Toward the back of the tavern there was a bar where a few men were seated along side each other. They seemed friendly and were in a conversation with the barkeep. Evercloud thought that this looked like a good opportunity. He walked up to the bar and took a seat to the left of the man sitting on the end of the group. The man briefly looked over as he sat down but then returned to his conversation. The barkeeper, however, stopped the conversation and came over to Evercloud.
“What’ll it be?”
“I’ll have an ale, please.”
“Ain’t you a bit young for ale?” asked the barkeeper.
“I’m served ale all the time,” responded Evercloud, forgetting where he was.
“Oh, really?” said the barkeeper. “That’s funny, cause I ain’t seen you in here before.” Now all the men at the bar had turned to look at Evercloud. He looked back at them, realizing that he might be too young to drink ale by human standards.
“Well, that’s because I haven’t been here before,” said Evercloud, trying to recover from his slip. “I meant that they serve me in Yorebrook. My name is John, John Ball.”
“From Yorebrook, eh?” said a man with a red beard, two seats down from Evercloud. “I got a sister in Yorebrook.” Then the man turned to the barkeeper. “Give him an ale, Gene. It ain’t gonna hurt him.”
The barkeeper shrugged his shoulders and turned around to the tap. He poured Evercloud a mug of ale and placed it down in front of him. “That’ll be three gold pieces, young man.”
Evercloud thanked him and handed over the money.
“So,” continued the man with the red beard. “Tell us news of Yorebrook, my boy. How goes it there?”
Evercloud took a sip of the ale and struggled to stop himself from spitting it out. That’s horrible, he thought. Bear ale was much finer than that which was brewed by men. Evercloud swallowed and answered the man.
“All is well in Yorebrook,” he said, nodding. “Nothing of any excitement to speak of…although,” Evercloud saw this as his first opportunity. “There have been rumors of a return of the Ancients…have there been such rumors here in Hendrick?”
The tavern went dead silent and all of its inhabitants now had their eyes pinned down on Evercloud. A sinking feeling worked its way into his stomach and he wondered if it were the ale. The man with the red beard pushed his stool away from the bar and stood up. He walked over to Evercloud and put a heavy hand upon his shoulder. Evercloud looked up at the man, who now had a very stern look upon his face, and swallowed hard.
“I highly doubt,” said the man with an edge in his voice, “that anyone in Yorebrook talks about Ancients, and I guarantee that no good person in this village does so either. So, friend from Yorebrook, why don’t you just tell us who you really are and what unholy place it is that you come from?”
At this moment, Evercloud desperately wished that Whiteclaw and Riverpaw were there. He slowly moved his hand down his side and felt the golden claw that he had concealed inside his baggy trousers. He knew that revealing the claw would mean the end of his inquiries in this village and ultimately, failure of his objective, but he was no longer sure that he was going to have a choice in the matter.
“There he is,” came a voice from across the tavern.
“I told you that waiting at the tavern was a good idea,” came another.
Two men walked over to Evercloud and the red bearded man, and stood directly between them. The first man was tall and thin, with an olive complexion and large dark eyes. He placed a hand on Evercloud’s shoulder. “There you are, cousin.”
“Been drinking again, have we?” said the other man as he put his hand on Evercloud’s other shoulder. He was of the same complexion as the taller man. In fact, they looked like brothers. However, this man was much shorter, had longer hair and had more handsome features. He turned to the red bearded man. “Says some funny things when he drinks, doesn’t he?”
“Very creative imagination,” added the tall man. “Well, we better get you back to Uncle,” he said, turning to Evercloud. “Don’t want him to get angry.”
“Scary man when he’s angry,” said the short man, shaking his head at the red bearded man. And with that, the two men grabbed Evercloud under the shoulders and ushered him out of the tavern.
“Who are you?” asked Evercloud once they were outside of the tavern. The two men didn’t stop walking and continued to usher Evercloud down the busy street.
“Keep your mouth shut and keep walking,” said the tall man.
Just then, the man with the red beard burst out of the doors of the tavern and hollered after them as they walked away.
“I don’t want to see him back here again!”
“Yes, sir,” called the short man brightly. “Have a lovely day.” Then he muttered under his breath, “ugly bastard.”
After walking quite a distance away from the tavern, the men turned down a narrow alley between two houses and entered a side door at the end of the alley. The room was very dark, as there were no windows, and seemed empty with the exception of a chair. However, there were a few candles lit that provided some light. The men sat Evercloud down in the chair and began asking him questions.
“All right,” said the tall man. “Who are you and why are you here?”
“My name is John Ball and I’m from Yorebrook–”
“Don’t play with me!” the tall man pointed his finger and shouted. “Do you think we’re stupid? Your pants don’t fit, you’ve recently shaved your head and you strike up conversation with strangers about things that could get a man killed. Another ten minutes and they would have had you up the stake as a heretic. Now I’ll only ask you one more time, who are you?”
Evercloud didn’t know what to do. These men had seemingly helped him out of a precarious situation, but how could he be sure that he could trust them? He looked around the dark room. Only the tall man could be seen, hovering over him. He couldn’t see the short man any longer. What would Whiteclaw do? he thought.
“Well,” came the short man’s voice out of the darkness. “We’re waiting.”
“How do I know that I can trust you?” asked Evercloud.
“We just saved your life,” said the tall man.
The man was right. These men didn’t know Evercloud, yet they had helped him. Besides, there wasn’t much alternative unless Evercloud wanted to fight them.
Everflame Page 14