Scarlet and the Keepers of Light

by Brandon Charles West

  “Yes, really. They are called healing songs, and I just bet that, the way you like to sing—well, I bet I could teach you one, and you could sing it. Would you like that?”

  “Yes, I would,” Melody answered right away.

  “Okay, well, it goes like this:

  When e’er the road is dark and toiled,

  And travelers lose their way,

  They need not fear their plans are foiled,

  For soon there comes the day.

  When loved ones pass out of our sight,

  And sadness comes to call,

  Remember each and every night,

  Into our dreams they fall.

  Don’t waste your time with much regret,

  The past has run its course.

  Just lift your heart and soon you’ll let

  Happiness be your source,

  For all endeavors yet to be tried,

  From now until the grave,

  And even days when must you cry,

  Will find you always brave.

  By the time Xavier had finished singing, a funny thing had happen to Melody. Although she still missed Scarlet and her father, the sadness had melted away and she felt warm and peaceful.

  “That’s a happy song! I mean, the song makes people feel better.”

  “Yes, it does. Would you like to give it a try?”

  Melody nodded exuberantly, and together she and Xavier went through the song several times.

  “My dear, I think that you might just be a natural bard,” Xavier said, sounding excited. “You picked up the song very quickly, and when you sang it, I could feel it making things better.”

  “What’s a bard?” Melody asked.

  “Well, anyone can sing the healing songs, but only a bard can make them do magic. I might have guessed, with your sister being . . . well, it’s most exciting.” Xavier paused for a moment before adding, “If I were you, I would sing that song to your mother tonight at bedtime. I just bet it would make her feel a lot better.”

  “I will!” Melody exclaimed.

  “I’ll have to ask your mother tomorrow, but I would like it very much if you would learn some more songs. I would be happy to teach you.”

  “I would love it!”

  Later that night as her mom, her eyes all puffy with tears, was tucking Melody into bed, Melody sang the song the little man had taught her. It did more than just bring a smile to her mom’s face. Her eyes went back to normal, the scaredness on her face went away, and she looked much more hopeful. Maybe I am a bard, Melody thought, and she fell asleep happy.

  20

  The Hospitality of Dwarves

  Scarlet couldn’t have chosen a better place to take them, as it turned out. As her first piece of serious magical defense, it was a remarkably effective one. The group had to rest for a day while Scarlet regained the strength for the short walk to a nearby village, but Dakota was too amazed and grateful to chastise her for the amount of energy she’d spent performing what her father had dubbed “light walking.” In truth it had been worth it; they were safe now. There had been many more Mortada than Dakota had guessed, and although he hated to admit it, he had run out of ideas when Scarlet whisked them away.

  They walked only a few hours before reaching the small village, shortly after sunrise. The village was made up of huts built from straw, wood, and mud. There were no roads, or modern amenities of any kind. The people of the village were small, gruff-looking individuals—dwarves, in fact, Dakota told Scarlet. They did make her think of the dwarves she had read about in fairy tales, although they weren’t quite as cheery as some of those stories made them seem.

  The dwarves wore clothes made from animal hides that hung loosely about their bodies, and many of the men were covered in dirt and grime. This clan of dwarves were farmers, Dakota explained, and mostly liked to keep to themselves. They were a peaceful race, and given the choice, they’d prefer to remain far from the coming conflict.

  In the center of the village was a larger building, perhaps five or six times the size of the smaller huts. Scarlet noticed as they walked inside that none of the village’s buildings had doors.

  As she passed a few of the dwarves, Scarlet mused that just the day before, the dwarves would have seemed like giants to her. It was only one of the many curious thoughts that came to her, and she had little time to ponder them all. But the thought of these small men—even the tallest of them was nearly a head shorter than she was—being giants struck her as funny. She was careful not to laugh or stare, though. She didn’t want to be rude.

  Scarlet followed Dakota into the big building, where she immediately noticed a dwarf at the far end of the large main dwelling. If she had to guess, she’d have guessed he was at least a hundred years old. He wore a long white beard that had been braided and folded over several times to keep it out of his way as he walked; otherwise, he’d surely have tripped over it. His skin was leathery from a life spent working in the sun, and his face was lined with deep-set wrinkles. Bright blue eyes sparkled out from beneath his bushy white eyebrows, and despite his coarse appearance, his smile when he saw them was charming.

  “Ah, who is this who comes into my hall? I do not recognize this animal, but my eyes are very old. Come closer.” The old dwarf studied Dakota closely. “This is a horrible disguise. You should keep your eyes closed,” the old dwarf called out, a little too loudly, with an accent Scarlet couldn’t quite pin down. “It’s there in your eyes. The Lord of Wolves, I am pleased to see you again. It has been so long.”

  “Jud-Byr, it has been a long time,” Dakota called back, speaking as loudly as Jud-Byr had. The old dwarf must be losing his hearing, Scarlet thought.

  “Come, sit.” Jud-Byr beckoned them, and then clapped his hands with a thunderous sound. “A feast, then!” he bellowed. “For old friends and long absences!”

  “A feast” was perhaps an understatement. There was even more food here than there had been at the feast in Illuminora. Colorful vegetables, big slabs of meat, and giant loaves of bread were piled high on the large table. The dwarves ate heartily, laughing and singing between handfuls of food, drinking some concoction from metal goblets, the liquid sloshing to the floor in their frequent boisterous toasts. Scarlet tried her best to eat like a lady, but there were no forks or spoons to be had, and before she could even choose what she wanted, one boisterous dwarf or another would clap her on the back and pile food on her plate.

  “You are too skinny, young one!” they would shout. “Skin and bones are not enough for the toils of good work.”

  Scarlet couldn’t help but notice that the dwarves themselves could never have been called skinny. To call them fat or chubby would have been unfair, for they looked stout and muscled, but what they lacked in height, they certainly made up for in girth. Scarlet was stuffed after her first plateful, which was filled again before she could even hope to refuse.

  After much time had passed in drink and song, the dwarves, who’d become so unruly they’d begun to sound uncomfortably like an angry mob, suddenly quieted, and the food was removed from the table. Several of the torches that lit the room were extinguished, giving the dining hall a more somber feel, and the dwarves as one turned their attention to Jud-Byr.

  “You are waiting for a story, I assume,” he jested, and the dwarves humored him with cheers and applause, although instead of clapping they drummed their fists against the table. “Okay, okay. Quiet down. I will tell you the greatest story I know.”

  The old dwarf settled into the ornate wooden chair and breathed deeply, as though preparing for a great ordeal, his face somber, his head lowered. Then he looked up, and a mischievous smile stretched across his face.

  “This is the story of how the Lord of Wolves came to save my life,” Jud-Byr began. Scarlet looked at Dakota, but he held his head down and did not meet her gaze. “He will be angry with me for
telling this tale, but it is worth telling, and not having seen him for many a year, it is best.

  “When I was still old, although not quite so old as I am now, I embarked on the great walking, to the village of our brothers the clan Jar-Alvis in the Northern Mountains. They were the mightiest of our clans. Miners, warriors, smiths. And it had been told to me by my father that in the Northern Mountains they had built a great dwarven city, with single halls larger than our whole village. In these halls, I had been told as a boy, they held banquets that would defy imagination. So after years of putting off my journey—the journey that is the custom of our people—I decided to visit our brothers and enjoy the spectacle of a great Jar-Alvis banquet.

  “I never made it to the mountains. I underestimated my strength and my age, and when I came to the foot of the first mountain, winter had found me without any strength left. I walked deeper into the rocky forest until I collapsed, ready to face my death. I had lived a long and good life, and I knew that I would miss my clan—and they me, I hoped,” he added, chortling. Many of the dwarves laughed as well, and a few teased him with jibes about not missing him at all. Scarlet, on the other hand, was too fascinated to laugh at the joke. She was desperate to hear more.

  “After a day lying in the snow, freezing off bits I had forgotten I still had, I managed to drag myself into a cave, carved into the side of the rock face, and it was here I said the rites of our ancestors and prepared for death.

  “Then—” He paused for effect. “I heard the breathing of a mighty beast. Then felt the warm breath against my neck. And then I heard the most terrible roar anyone has ever heard.”

  “Was Gunthar in the cave with you?” someone shouted, and on cue the dwarf called Gunthar let out a horrendous belch. Laughter again filled the dining hall.

  “No, for in such a small space,” Jud-Byr teased back, “I would have died right there. No, it was a northern bear, the mighty creature dwarf children are told about to keep them from wandering into the woods alone. His head was larger than the trunk of my body, and his teeth as long and sharp as daggers. The beast’s black coat was thick and matted and smelled of rotten flesh and blood.

  “ ‘Begone,’ I yelled with all my dwindling strength, but he laughed, a treacherous horrible laugh. ‘I taste old and sour, bear,’ I yelled again. ‘You would not like this meal.’ And I beat my chest. Again he laughed. And then I heard another voice.

  “ ‘I’ve always thought it rude to play with your food,’ the new voice said, as calm as I was flustered. In the opening to the cave was this scraggily giant wolf.

  “The bear spoke. ‘After I’m done, puny wolf cub, I will have you for sport,’ he said, his voice even more terrible than his laugh.”

  “Since when do bears talk?” someone shouted.

  “You shut your trap. This is my story,” Jud-Byr shouted back before continuing. “ ‘It is you who will die this day,’ the wolf answered, stepping into the cave. ‘Although it is not my wish to kill a bear as great as you, or any of the woodland creatures, needlessly.’

  “With those words, which seemed to bring fury into the great bear’s heart, he flung me aside with a wave of his paw and charged the wolf. Everything seemed to stand still, and then a horrible clash of teeth and fur. The great bear fell with a thud onto the floor of the cave, and there he lay motionless. I was sure that the brave wolf must have been crushed, but then there he was, climbing over the mountain of a bear, and the last thing I saw of that cave was the wolf, standing atop the bear’s hide, his head tipped upward and a glorious howl escaping his throat.

  “When I next awoke, I was being dragged by the wolf from the collar of my tunic, back south through the wilderness. In time I gained enough strength and warmth in my limbs to walk beside him. I learned that he was the Lord of Wolves, the same noble creature who visits our halls this night. And in time, we became great friends. But”—Jud-Byr smiled, raising his glass—“those are stories for another day.”

  The dwarves cheered wildly, and all raised a toast to Dakota, who nodded humbly at their praise. After several more rounds of drinks, the dwarves began to depart for their homes, and when only Scarlet, her father, Dakota, and Jud-Byr were left, the old dwarf stood and hobbled over to Dakota. He knelt down painfully.

  “Thank you, dear friend, dear . . . lord. I am forever in your debt.”

  “No, you are not,” Dakota said, nuzzling the old dwarf. It was the first time since they left home that Scarlet had seen Dakota act so tender. “It is we who need your help.”

  “You need only ask,” Jud-Byr responded.

  “We need a place to stay for a while, and . . . some knowledge.”

  ***

  They were seated at the end of the long table, Scarlet, her father, Dakota, and Jud-Byr, in a very different atmosphere than at the feast. Although Jud-Byr’s enormous jovial spirit still prevailed, and he spoke in robust and good-humored tones, the mood was darker, more reverent.

  “This is not possible,” Jud-Byr said, stroking the braids of his long beard. “A human being cannot speak to the earth, know her magic.”

  “This one can,” Dakota said, serious and determined.

  “Hmmm.” Jud-Byr groaned, rolling this over in his head. “You think this is the prophesied one, then? The one who will stand up to the dark one? You think she has the magic inside her?”

  “I know she does,” Dakota responded, with complete conviction.

  Jud-Byr remained silent for a long time, taking enormous gulps from his goblet. After a while he motioned for Scarlet to come closer, slapping the empty space on the bench beside him. Scarlet reluctantly got up and sat beside the hefty old man.

  “What do you think of all this, little one?” he asked, taking on a grandfatherly tone.

  Scarlet wasn’t sure what she thought of it all. She was scared and still a bit bewildered. She had done things, though, that she would have never imagined possible, and had exceeded even Xavier’s expectations, a compliment she did not take lightly.

  “This is all very strange to me still, sir,” she said.

  “Sir? She calls me sir? Ha!” Jud-Byr let out a bellowing laugh. “I have never been a sir before.”

  “I’m sorry,” Scarlet said hastily.

  “Don’t be sorry—I like it. Sir Jud-Byr, the lord farmer dwarf . . . Ha!”

  Scarlet couldn’t help but smile. Jud-Byr’s laughter was infectious.

  “This is a lot of responsibility to put on such young shoulders,” Jud-Byr said to Scarlet. “Perhaps too much.” There was a slight look of reproach as his eyes shifted to Dakota and Scarlet’s father.

  “We agree on that,” Dakota answered.

  “Do you want me to teach you, child?” Jud-Byr asked.

  “Very much.” Scarlet knew this was the truth.

  “Okay—I will try. Because I owe Udd Lyall a great debt. And . . . because you call me sir. It is the cutest thing ever I see. Plus, Udd Lyall knows my weakness.” Jud-Byr chuckled.

  “What’s that?” Scarlet braved.

  “Redheads. My first wife was a redhead. Never could say no to her, neither. We begin tomorrow.”

  ***

  Morning came extremely early for Scarlet, and although the sun had barely risen, it was painfully bright to her tired eyes. She wondered with a hint of amusement if there had been something funny in the drinks they had consumed at the feast. She dressed and tied back her hair, not sure exactly what she needed to ready herself for; the dwarves were farmers, after all, and Scarlet had a feeling that nature magic might just involve a bit of dirt and labor. As she only had one outfit, it wasn’t difficult to choose what to wear.

  She trudged out of the hut she had shared with her father and Dakota and into the orange light of dawn. Many of the dwarves were already up and about, tending to their gardens and fields. They waved cheerfully at Scarlet as she passed the large hut where they’d had th
e feast. Jud-Byr was waiting outside the hut, leaning against one of the porch posts and smoking a giant pipe that would have looked large held by a man three times Jud-Byr’s size.

  “Do you like it?” Jud-Byr said with pride, gesturing with his huge pipe. “I won this in a game of cards off a giant from the Northern Mountains.”

  “I don’t know much about pipes,” Scarlet admitted. “It’s quite . . . big, isn’t it?”

  “Ha, that it is.” Jud-Byr tapped the ash from the pipe and set it down beside a chair on the porch. He then walked out to meet Scarlet, offering her his elbow. Scarlet put her arm through his, and they began to walk toward a garden. “Udd Lyall tells me that you are a Keeper of Light, like the little ones.”

  “Yes . . . I guess . . . I mean, I can do light magic, if that’s what you mean.” Scarlet was unsure of herself, not wanting to sound boastful or disrespectful to Xavier, who was the true Keeper of Light. “Xavier taught me a little.”

  “A little, yes, well, I hear tell more than a little.” Jud-Byr chortled. “Could you show me a little? Don’t make yourself tired, though—something small.”

  Scarlet thought for a moment and then picked up a pebble from the ground. With minimal effort she filled the pebble with light and let it float, bobbing in midair before sending it shooting off across the sky.

  “Ha. To my knowledge, little one, you are the first non-Tounder to ever master the light. Ha.” Jud-Byr stroked his beard. “There may be hope. Maybe. I expect that nature’s magic is not as hard to learn as light. After all, many more can do it than just one group. Light belongs only to the Tounder, dark to the Mortada, but the earth is known to many. How do you speak to the light?”

  “Speak to it?” Scarlet said, puzzled.

  “Yes, girl. When you talk to the light, what do you say?”

  “I don’t say anything,” Scarlet admitted.

  “Hmmmm. Then how do you get it to come to you? Is it the sun—does the sun speak to you? A talisman, perhaps?” Jud-Byr seemed both confused and curious.