Scarlet and the Keepers of Light

by Brandon Charles West

  Melody was the first to speak, uninhibited as she was for a five-year-old and unencumbered by a need to figure it all out. “Does everyone get wings?”

  Clearly frustrated that his little girl had asked an irrelevant question when so much needed answering, Scarlet’s father was about to interject when Xavier put up a hand to stop him. “All questions are important to those who ask them.” He turned to Melody. “The answer to your question, my sweet little girl, depends on who “everybody” is. If you mean, do all of my people, the Tounder, get wings, well then, the answer is yes. They are a gift from the great oak that stands above us, and all Tounder are born with wings. If you mean, do you and your family get them now that you have come here, sadly, no. I know that is disappointing to you.”

  Melody nodded.

  “Would it cheer you up to know that in the land of Satorium—that is, the land you now find yourselves in—wings aren’t the only way a person can fly?”

  Melody nodded again, this time with great enthusiasm.

  “What is going on?” her father cut in before Melody could ask something else.

  “My, that is quite a question. I don’t think we’ll have time for anyone else if we try to answer that all at once,” Xavier said cheerfully.

  ***

  Just when Charles was starting to get angry, the worried look on Xavier’s face made him stop and think. He remembered the way the little man had slyly sent his daughters off to bed the night before, so that he and Charles could be alone. Perhaps there were things about what was happening that would be too much for young children to hear.

  Charles decided to ask a question he thought he already knew the answer to. Perhaps that way, he might show Xavier that he understood why he might be reluctant to speak openly in front of the children.

  “Are we safe here?”

  Xavier gave him a knowing smile. “Quite safe. I am proud to say that there is no place in the two worlds safer than here at my home. For now, you have nothing to fear.”

  For now. Charles didn’t like the sound of that last statement, but at least he and Xavier understood one another.

  “How can our dogs talk all of a sudden?” Scarlet asked. Charles was pleased; this was definitely something he too wanted to know.

  “As for your lovely dog Cricket, I expect that the dog you call Dakota taught her. Not an easy task, considering that dogs don’t really have the right equipment, physically that is, to speak. But then again, Dakota has abilities that have more than surprised me before, so I can’t say I’m surprised at this.”

  “And Dakota?” Charles added.

  “He has always been able to talk,” Xavier said matter-of-factly. “Well, ever since he was old enough, that is.”

  “He wasn’t very talkative when I found him in the woods, or any of the five months we had him as a pet,” Charles said.

  “Ah, of course. I had forgotten that you might still be under the impression that he was only five months old. Dakota is not, I’m afraid, exactly what he seems, and I’m not sure how much he would want me to tell you. I will say that he is from Satorium, and your finding him in the woods that day was not an accident. He was sent to protect Scarlet and your family, and had we not made the decision to send him . . . well, some things are better left unsaid.”

  The girls continued to ask questions, while Charles waited as patiently as he could to speak to Xavier alone. Yes, they had been shrunk with magic from the great oak, Xavier told them. The Tounder lived exclusively in Illuminora, the village beneath the tree, and they were also called the Keepers of Light, although explaining that title properly would take more than an afternoon. The Hopewells had been in danger at home, Xavier conveyed delicately, and he and Dakota had brought them here to keep them safe.

  After about half an hour of questions, Xavier suggested that they take a break.

  “I would think that two young girls such as yourselves,” he said to Scarlet and Melody, “would love to explore such a strange and wonderful place as this must seem to you.”

  “Oh, yes!” they both answered.

  “If you will permit, Mr. Hopewell, I can assure you, they will be quite safe,” Xavier said.

  Charles was reluctant, looking to Allie, who’d been silent this whole time, for guidance, but eventually he agreed; he needed real answers from the old Tounder, and he wouldn’t get them with his daughters present.

  “You watch after your sister,” Allie said sternly to Scarlet.

  “Will do,” she promised, taking Melody’s hand and heading for the entrance hall.

  ***

  The two girls were giggling and running toward the entrance hall, their heads swimming with ideas of what to try and see first, when they caught sight of Dakota speaking to the group of wolves who had helped them escape. Melody was about to call out to Dakota, but Scarlet put a hand to her mouth.

  “Shhhh. Wait a minute,” Scarlet whispered, pulling Melody behind a pillar just inside the entrance hall. Dakota and the wolves were standing in the entrance to the castle, and Scarlet could just make out what they were saying, although she had to strain hard to hear.

  “I don’t understand,” Ulrich was saying. “You mean the change is permanent.”

  “Yes,” Dakota answered. “There was no other way.”

  “But a dog, Udd Lyall!” Ulrich moaned.

  “The dog who came here with us is a braver and more noble creature than many Stidolph I’ve met in my day,” Dakota snapped back. Stidolph was clearly the name for the magnificent wolves, Scarlet realized.

  “I’ve nothing against dogs. That’s not what I meant,” Ulrich said defensively. “It’s just that, well, dogs— They don’t—”

  “I know, old friend. But it’s a small price to pay for saving her life. A small price to pay if it means winning the war that’s to come.” Dakota lowered his head solemnly.

  “Well, at least you’re a big dog,” Fael added cheerfully, though Dakota didn’t look that big next to the two Stidolph.

  Just then Scarlet felt something rub against her leg, and she jumped, making Melody squeal. Looking down, she saw Cricket standing next to her. When she looked up again, the Stidolph had gone. Dakota nodded to the girls but didn’t come over, leaving instead through another passage out of the hall.

  What was all that about? Scarlet wondered. What had Dakota sacrificed? Had he once been a Stidolph like the other two, and why did they call him Udd Lyall? He had obviously changed into a dog so that he could come to live with her family, but if he had changed into a dog, why couldn’t he change back? And what was it that dogs don’t? It had certainly made Ulrich look sad enough. Her list of questions seemed to be growing exponentially with each passing hour. She would have to find out later, though; today she was going to explore the land of her dreams—only this time she’d be awake.

  “You want to come exploring with us?” she asked Cricket, feeling a little funny talking to the family dog.

  “Can I?” Cricket asked excitedly.

  “Of course,” Scarlet responded, and the three of them set off out of the castle and into the village.

  Unlike Lindi, every Tounder they saw seemed overjoyed to meet Scarlet as they walked down the main street. Everyone waved and pointed. To Scarlet, it felt a little like being a movie star rather than a guest. It was hard to decide where to go first, it all was so weird and wonderful.

  Melody was drawn to a shop with carts sitting out front bearing strange but succulent-looking fruit. She stared wide-eyed at the multicolored assortment, finally focusing on what looked like silver grapes.

  “What are those?” she asked boldly, when the shop owner approached her.

  “Those are guildagrapes,” the shopkeeper answered pleasantly. She removed a bunch from the stand and handed them to Melody, who wasted no time plopping one into her mouth, her eyes lighting up with pleasure. “Try one, Scarlet. They’
re so good!”

  Scarlet took a couple from the bunch and ate them slowly, savoring each one. It was difficult to describe the taste—like the sweetest grapes Scarlet had ever eaten, but with a hint of something else that she had never tasted before.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “It is my pleasure,” responded the shopkeeper. “It is such a happy day that sees you here and safe with us.” The shopkeeper bowed slightly and went back into her store.

  The store across the street drew their attention next. It was filled with glowing objects of every imaginable shape and size. As they entered the store they were bathed in the soft illumination of hundreds of these objects. It was difficult to figure out exactly what they were, but if Scarlet had to guess, she would have said that they were decorations or trinkets.

  “They are toys,” the shop’s owner said, appearing from a back room carrying a small orange ball pulsing with light. “You have that look of curiosity that I welcome in my store. We haven’t had any visitors to Illuminora in quite a while,” he explained.

  “They’re beautiful!” exclaimed Scarlet. “What are they made of?”

  The toymaker turned his head quizzically. “My, you are from far off, aren’t you? They are made of light, sweetie.”

  “Made of light?” Scarlet asked, puzzled. “How can that be?”

  “When you know the secrets of light, it is no more difficult than building something out of wood or stone, which of course is to say that it’s quite difficult if you’re trying to create something truly art-worthy. But not impossible.” The toymaker laughed. “Would you like one?”

  “Oh, thank you, but we don’t have any way of paying you,” Scarlet answered bashfully.

  “Paying me?” the toymaker rebuked. “I could never accept payment from the For Tol Don.”

  “What’s a fortoldon?” she asked, confused.

  A look of worry crossed the toymaker’s face. “You mean to say you don’t know?” he said in a hushed whisper.

  “I’ve never heard those words before,” Scarlet admitted.

  The toymaker looked around his shop, his eyes shifting guiltily. He came very close to Scarlet, lowering his voice to an even softer whisper. “You are the hero of a great prophecy that we Tounder have known all our lives. And now you’re finally here. Just in time, if you ask me—not that anyone is, mind you. Only a matter of time before the dark prince will be ready to challenge us . . . well, you. It is a glorious day, but please—I should not be the one telling you this. I would appreciate you not telling anyone I told you.”

  “I won’t,” Scarlet promised reluctantly. She wanted desperately to ask the Tounder what he had meant, but the worry in his eyes told her to leave it alone. A dark prince? A prophecy? It all sounded surreal, and at the same time so ominous. “Besides, I don’t even understand what you did tell me,” she added.

  The toymaker backed up and laughed, his expression lightening. “You will,” he said. He took a small cube of light, about the size of a board game die, and placed it in Scarlet’s hand. “Until the day you create your own light,” he added cryptically and then hurried back to the room from whence he’d come.

  The rest of the day passed quickly, with one wonder-filled moment after the next. It was difficult to take in all the glorious sights of Illuminora, as each and every thing the girls saw was new and exciting. When finally they decided to call an end to their explorations, they headed back to the castle, feeling hungry and sleepy. Scarlet’s first thought was to find her mother and father and ask them what they had learned from Xavier.

  Her questions, however, would have to wait. A large group of young female Tounder met in the entrance hall, and informed them that they had to hurry and dress for the feast. A grand celebration had been prepared for Scarlet and her family.

  Forget feeling like a movie star. Now Scarlet felt more like royalty.

  8

  The Tempest

  Brennan was cold, hungry, and exhausted. He and Chosen had been walking all day and well into the night. His ordeal in the jail cell had left him weakened, and the pace Chosen kept was unrelenting. Making matters worse, they had now entered the Southern Wildlands, which, aside from being extremely difficult terrain physically, was also some of the most dangerous territory in all of Satorium.

  Brennan’s mother had told him many stories of the dark creatures that inhabited these lands. Once when their travels

  had taken them near the edges of the Wildlands, she had become visibly nervous, a trait his mother never displayed without good reason. Chosen, on the other hand, plodded straight through this sinister landscape with no more concern than a man on a Sunday stroll through the park. When Brennan mentioned that he’d thought it dangerous, Chosen’s only reply had been that it would take ages to walk around.

  The Wildlands’ dense forest and swampland were bisected by a fast-moving river whose treacherous currents rendered it nearly impossible to cross. Upon entering the Wildlands at the delta, a traveler was forced by the impassable marshland to the river’s east to instead negotiate the formidable forest along the west bank. Eventually, however, the terrain would flip, and the traveler would have to cross the river again at the southern border of Leona, the kingdom of the Dorans—an impossible task for anyone without an intimate knowledge of the river and the surrounding terrain. Brennan wasn’t sure how well any man could know the Southern Wildlands, but Chosen certainly seemed familiar with it as he moved effortlessly over the rough terrain.

  Brennan tried his best not to think about how tired he was, instead concentrating on what would be waiting for him on the other side of the Wildlands. The Dorans ruled over the greater portion of Satorium beyond the Wildlands, and at the heart of Leona was Caelesta, their capital city. Brennan’s mother had told him about the city, which she had once seen as a little girl. In her stories it was a place of such beauty that all other sights paled in comparison. Brennan was smart enough to realize that part of her description was more than likely based on a child’s wonderment, from a time when his mother was happy and innocent, and therefore to be taken with a grain of salt. This realization didn’t dampen his desire to see it himself, though, if only to have something that he could share, even posthumously, with his mother.

  But despite his best efforts, fatigue eventually got the better of him, and he began to fall behind. Soon Chosen had gotten so far ahead that Brennan lost sight of him in the thickness of the trees. As troublesome as this was, Brennan had to stop; he just couldn’t continue without rest, even if just for a moment. Slumping against the trunk of a large willow tree, he tried to catch his breath.

  He paid little attention to the rustling in the brush at first, figuring that Chosen had realized he was no longer right behind him and doubled back. His eyes closed, and as he took in deep, desperately needed breaths, Brennan felt that if he wanted to, he could fall asleep right there beneath the willow tree. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Chosen would scold him. Tell him he needed to wake up. A small price to pay for some long-overdue rest.

  But then a dreadful thought occurred to Brennan, making his skin crawl as if a thousand spiders had began creeping under his clothes. Chosen was ahead of him; the rustling sound was from behind.

  In a flash Brennan was on his feet, searching the trees for any sign of movement. The problem was that everything moved. The slender, drooping branches of the willows caught even the slightest of breezes. Looking out into the forest, Brennan saw a constantly shifting landscape of dappled greens and darker shadows. Panic struck, in a dizzying onslaught.

  “Chosen!” he called out, not bothering to hide the fear in his voice. There was no answer.

  Brennan started to run over the uneven ground in the direction he thought Chosen had gone. The ground was matted with a tangle of underbrush and roots, and each step Brennan took threatened to fail beneath him, sending him sprawling headfirst onto the
forest floor. The sound was growing louder as whatever was in the trees behind him also picked up its pace. Throwing all caution to the wind, he plunged headlong through the trees, running as fast as he could, dodging tree trunks and limbs, leaping over roots and brush.

  He barely had time to notice the bramble sprawled across his path before he’d tripped over it and went flying, sprawling on his hands and knees into a small clearing, his clothes torn and his skin bleeding from numerous cuts and scratches. He rolled out of the way just in time, as a massive creature leaped over the brambles behind him and landed feet first right on the spot where Brennan had been.

  On his back, deeply shaken, Brennan looked up at the enormous figure, only a few feet away. Easily twice the size of a normal man, the creature was covered with thick orange and fawn fur. Although its arms and legs resembled those of a man, thickly muscled and bulging, its most striking features were its long, sharp claws and catlike face. As Brennan watched helplessly, paralyzed by fear, the fangs that already protruded over its bottom lip lengthened until they reached past his chin.

  “Long way from home, aren’t you, boy?” the creature growled.

  Horrifying as the creature looked, that it could speak was even more shocking to Brennan. Should he talk to it? Reason with it? It was so difficult to reconcile the savage appearance of the creature with the notion that it could speak, that it was even . . . intelligent?

  “I’m just passing through,” Brennan fumbled, searching the area around him for something he could use as a weapon.

  “No,” the creature said, taking a step forward. “You were passing through.” It crouched, ready to spring.

  Suddenly it froze and then righted itself again. Chosen had emerged into the clearing from the far side and was now standing, as relaxed as ever, against one of the trees on the clearing’s edge.

  “Just like an animal, waiting until your prey was separated from its pack before you could get up the nerve to attack,” Chosen chided. If the size and viciousness of the creature worried him at all, he didn’t show it.