by M. J. Evans
They traveled toward Mount Dashmoore, which was visible on the eastern horizon. They were grateful they could see it now and let it serve as their guide toward their destination…home. The knowledge that the City of Minsheen rested on the mountain’s southern slopes and the village of Duenton lay just beyond that provided encouragement. They also appreciated the cloud cover that shielded their eyes from the glare of the sun. No one said much as they traveled along, apparently lost in their own thoughts.
When they stopped by a stream for a mid-day break, Pik ran up to them. “Everyone doing okay?” he asked.
“We are,” responded Tandum.
“Carling,” the Faun said, looking up at the beautiful Duende to where she sat mounted on the filly’s back.
“Yes, Pik?” she said.
“All of the Fauns are concerned about how well we will be received by your village. We have decided to stop a ways back and let you go on with Tibbals and Tandum. You can discuss our presence with the village leaders and find out if we would be welcome. Then return to us and report.”
Carling nodded and bit her lip. She wondered if she was ready to approach the elders of the village. To them, she was just a young girl… a girl who had caused her village a lot of trouble. She regretted that she was not more prepared for this.
Higson patted her hand. “Don’t worry, Carling. You’ll do fine.”
She smiled weakly. She wished she had even a tiny amount of confidence in herself. “I hope so,” she responded.
Tibbals joined in. “Don’t ever forget who you are! You are the future queen of Crystonia. You have already displayed amazing courage and leadership just in the few weeks we’ve been gone.” Tibbals paused and looked over at her brother, then added, “And if you’ll have us, we’ll stay by your side through whatever comes along. Right, Tandum?”
Tandum looked askance. “Whatever?”
Tibbals giggled. “Yes, big brother, whatever!”
As they moved across the plain, each member of the company kept glancing up at Mount Dashmoore. Carling wished the mountain would come to them instead of them having to trudge all the way to it. Near the end of the day, they entered the forest that surrounded the base of the mountain, causing them to lose sight of the landmark for which they were aiming.
To Carling, the forest provided a welcome indication that she was almost home. She had always loved her excursions with Higson into the eastern edge of this very forest. She felt a renewal of energy flow through her body. “We’re almost there,” she said to Tibbals.
“Thank goodness. I don’t know how much more of this my hooves can take without getting a pedicure.”
Carling giggled and reached up to plait Tibbals long blond hair into a pretty braid. She had become quite an adept Centaur rider and could keep her balance without holding on.
By late afternoon, they reached the peak of the ridge of foothills that bordered the western edge of their valley. The Duende called this long series of hills with a narrow crest and steep slopes on both sides a hogback. The climb up to the peak of the ridge had been strenuous so, once they reached the top, all were happy to take a break.
Carling looked to the east. She had never been up to the top of the hogback. Now she stood looking down at her village with a mixture of joy and sadness. Joy at finally returning. It felt like she had been gone much longer than a few weeks. So much had happened. She was no longer the same girl who had left in search of the Stone of Mercy. Perhaps it was the stone that had changed her.
The sadness was brought on by the loss of her parents. Other than Higson’s parents, no one in that village upon which she now gazed was awaiting her return. Perhaps no one was even aware she had left. She felt a longing so intense it made her insides hurt. How desperately she ached to have her mother’s arms around her again.
She wrapped her own arms around her body and hugged herself tightly. She felt the silver breastplate and for a moment wished she had never found it. The little Duende took a deep breath and pursed her lips. She looked from side to side at the friends who surrounded her. Other than good old Higson, they were all new, yet she realized that she loved them. While no one could replace her parents, these new friends had managed to fill part of the hole in her heart. Her mouth turned up in a silent smile and tears moistened her violet eyes. I will be grateful, she told herself.
—
Just as the sun was setting, the weary travelers arrived in the very meadow where Carling first saw the event that had set all of this in motion. At least that was how she viewed it. She did not know that everything had really started before her birth, when the Wizard of Crystonia paid visits to the smithy Ashtic and to Carling’s mother.
The Fauns stopped. “We will settle in here for the night,” Pik said.
Carling could tell Tibbals was eager to return home. Her dainty prancing told her as much. “We will keep moving,” Carling said. “Tibbals and Tandum will take us to Duenton, then return to their home in the City of Minsheen. Higson and I will meet with the village elders tomorrow, then come to you after we have an answer.”
Thus the plan was set and Tibbals and Tandum, with their Duende friends on their backs, took off through the forest at a canter.
Chapter 32
The Council of Elders
Carling was content to remain in that happy state, floating somewhere between asleep and awake. She was warm and comfortable and her stomach was full. She hadn’t felt that way for weeks. Perhaps all of these facts played a part in helping her sleep so soundly once sleep overcame her. Even her dreams had not frightened and awakened her. With regret, she slowly opened her eyes and looked around…and recognized Higson’s family home at once.
Sunlight was streaming in the little round window set high on the southern wall. Tree limbs from outside cut the rays of light into irregular ribbons. She breathed in the smell of something wonderful being baked in the kitchen, one of Higson’s mother’s famous creations, no doubt.
Their greeting the previous night had been joyous. Higson’s mother couldn’t stop crying and hugging each of them. His father wanted a day-by-day account of what had transpired since their departure, a request that neither Carling nor Higson had the energy to fulfill.
Carling stretched her arms over her head, threw back the covers, and swung her feet out and down to the floor. She went to the mirror, the same mirror she had checked before she started on her quest to find the Stone of Mercy. She was surprised that she still looked the same. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, she had assumed that she would look different. She knew she was different, and it seemed only right that it would show in her outward appearance. But no. Staring back at her was the same, youthful Duende face she was accustomed to. The same violet eyes that captivated others. The same thick, auburn hair forming a halo around her face. The same short, pixie nose. The same high cheekbones. The same thin lips. All fitting together to form a beautiful face. Something about that face should have changed, she thought.
She washed up and brushed her thick hair, then put on the silver breastplate and covered it with a clean tunic.
She felt her heart skip a beat as her thoughts turned to the commission for the day. She wished she had something more attractive than just a plain, old tunic to wear. She took a deep breath, lifted her chin, and walked out the bedroom door.
—
The town elders worked in a large stone building at the north end of the town square. Thankfully, the building had not been damaged by the attack by the Heilodius Centaurs. Perhaps they had viewed it as too difficult to bother with and spent their time, instead, on easier targets. Whatever the reason, it stood out as an imposing structure…something to be reckoned with, to be sure.
Carling and Higson slowly ascended the long stone staircase. To Carling, it wasn’t long enough. The two impressive and intricately carved wooden doors at the top stood firmly shut. The two little Duende stopped in front of them and gazed up, the doors towering over them. Carling wondered why they needed such
tall doors. Higson reached up to open one of them, but Carling grabbed his hand.
Higson looked over at her. “Are you okay?”
“I just need a minute to catch my breath,” she answered.
Higson waited patiently.
After a few minutes, Carling withdrew her hand and nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“You can do this, Carling.”
“I hope so.”
With much effort, Higson opened the enormous door. They stepped into a large, square vestibule. The floor was decorated with sparkling stone tiles. Overhead, hanging down from a very high ceiling, a sparkling chandelier holding dozens of candles lit the room. The walls were painted with murals depicting Duende at work. Multiple doors just off the foyer were currently closed. A few gilded chairs rested against the walls. Carling had never seen such opulence in the village of Duenton. She was surprised. Yes, the Duende were artisans and certainly had the skills to create such magnificence, but they were also a very hard-working and practical people. Their homes, before the attack, that is, had been on the simple side. Carling never imagined the town leaders had surrounded themselves with such excessive grandeur.
At the far end of the room was a set of double doors that were nearly as tall as the ones through which they had just come. In front of these doors, an older Duende woman sat at an ornately carved desk. The woman was looking down and writing something with a quill pen. The plume bounced around as she worked. She either hadn’t noticed their arrival or didn’t care; Carling couldn’t tell which.
Carling looked over at Higson. He winked at her, took her hand, and led her forward. They stopped in front of the desk. The woman still did not look up.
“Good Morning, ma’am,” Higson said politely.
“What do you want?” she responded brusquely, finally lifting her eyes and looking over the top of her spectacles.
“We would like an audience with the town council,” Carling said, trying to sound confident and professional, though she felt far from it.
The woman shook her head. “I’m so sorry, children, but that is impossible. They are in their daily council meeting.” She motioned her head toward the closed doors behind her, then looked back down and continued with her writing.
“We have something very important to discuss with them,” Carling continued.
The woman slapped down her pen in irritation. “I’m sure you do. Everyone does. But I cannot interrupt their meeting.”
“Oh, I think you can.”
Carling and Higson started. The deep, mellow voice came from behind and above them. Carling recognized it immediately. She turned around quickly and gazed up at Vidente, the Wizard of Crystonia. It suddenly occurred to her why the doors needed to be so tall. The Wizard’s hood was off his head and draped over his shoulders. His face was now clearly visible. He looked much younger than Carling had imagined he would be. The only wrinkles on his face were smile wrinkles at the sides of his blue eyes, which sparkled beneath bushy eyebrows. His beard was brown and trimmed neatly. His cheeks were pronounced yet, at the same time, round and rosy. She cocked her head to one side and examined him closely. She was sure that he had a long gray beard when she last saw him.
“Wizard,” she said. She felt herself relax, not having realized until now just how tense she had been. “You’re here.”
He smiled down at her, causing the wrinkles near his eyes to deepen. “Yes, Carling. I thought you might need some help.”
Carling wanted to run to him and hug his legs, but she kept control of her impulse. Instead she simply said, “Yes. I really would appreciate that. But….” she paused.
Vidente asked, “What is it?”
“I thought you had a gray beard.”
Vidente chuckled. “I decided to change it up a bit. What do you think?”
Carling nodded. “It’s nice. Makes you look younger.”
“Well that’s a good thing, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?” he answered.
“Well, the other one made you look…”
“Wiser?” he added with a smile.
Carling wrinkled her nose and grinned. “Yeah…sort of.”
Vidente laughed and patted Carling on the head.
Awed by the sudden appearance of the Wizard, the Duende woman behind the desk scrambled to her feet. “J-j-just a moment. I-I-I’ll be right back.” She dashed through the doors and into the council room, returning a moment later with two of the village elders, one male and one female.
The elders walked into the vestibule and around the desk, approaching the Wizard with a noticeable amount of trepidation. “Welcome, oh venerable Wizard. To what do we, the humble creatures of Duenton, owe a visit from your greatness?”
Vidente held up one hand, the red ring on his middle finger glistening brightly. “Perhaps you know these two young Duende from your village?” he said, motioning to Carling and Higson.
The elders glanced at the two of them. “It is true that we do,” said the woman.
“What trouble have they gotten themselves…and all of us…into now?” said the male elder.
“Into trouble, you ask? Ah-h-h. You misunderstand them.” Turning toward Carling, the Wizard said, “I think it is time that you show them the silver breastplate, Carling.”
Carling pulled back her cape and unwrapped her tunic, revealing the silver breastplate.
The woman gasped. The man stiffened. “I think you had better come into the council chambers,” he said.
The Duende woman behind the desk scurried back and opened both doors as wide as they would go. Vidente entered the room ahead of them all, moving as if floating on air. Carling and Higson went through the doorway next, followed by the village elders.
The room they entered, which was even more elegant than the entrance hall, smelled of the sweet perfume of flowers. Large fluted columns lined the walls and supported the high ceiling. The walls were painted a pale blue and covered with ornate tapestries depicting Duende at play…something Carling could never remember seeing the industrious little race do in real life. Between the tapestries, tall stained glass windows let the sunlight fill the room with color and dance along the floor, which was a continuation of the mosaic design in the outer hall. The entire chamber was clearly a testament to the artistry of the Duende builders who had created it. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
Once they were all inside the room, the doors were shut behind them. Carling stopped behind Vidente, but took a moment to peek around his long gray cloak. In the front of the large room was a semi-circle of six tables. Two Duende sat at each table, making twelve council members in all. To a teenager like Carling, they all looked very old. The two elders who had come out to meet them stepped forward and took their places in the empty chairs in the middle.
Vidente didn’t wait to be introduced. “My esteemed body of elders. I am Vidente, the Wizard assigned to oversee the affairs of Crystonia.” He paused and looked each elder in the eyes. Some smiled under his scrutiny. Others squirmed.
The woman who had come out to meet them initially spoke up first. “I am Shanta, the president of the Council of Elders. We welcome you to the village of Duenton, Vidente. We are your humble servants.”
“No, ma’am. It is I who have come to serve you,” he said with a kind smile. “Let me get right to the purpose of my visit. There is a war in the land that has been going on for hundreds of years. You, in your little valley, have been spared from exposure until recently. You were not considered a threat to those seeking power. But all that has changed. From this day forward, the little visitation by the Heilodius herd vandals….”
“Little?” interrupted one of the more skeptical of the elders.
Vidente turned and looked deeply into his eyes. “Yes…little. You have no idea to what ends the other races will go to secure the throne on Mount Heilodius. The damage that was done to your village was little compared to what war is capable of once it reaches your home.”
&nb
sp; All of the elders began fidgeting in their seats. They looked back and forth at one another.
One spoke up. “Why must we be involved in this power struggle? What has changed that involves us?”
Shanta answered for the Wizard. “Bring forth the girl.”
Carling, who had watched the introduction from behind the safety of the Wizard’s robe, swallowed hard. She suddenly felt very thirsty. She looked over at Higson, who nodded at her and smiled by way of encouragement. Then she took a deep breath and stepped up beside the Wizard. Shivering, she looked up at him as he towered over her. Carling felt very small, but his kind eyes warmed and uplifted her.
“Carling, show the council what you are wearing,” the woman said. Then she caught her breath and looked up at the Wizard. “Forgive me. Is it alright if she reveals the breastplate to the others?”
Vidente gave them a brief nod of his bearded chin.
Once again, Carling pushed aside her cape and unwrapped her tunic. This time, her fingers were trembling.
The elders let out a collective gasp, just as Shanta and her partner had upon seeing the breastplate in the foyer.
“What does this mean?” said one.
“Is it truly the silver breastplate of the ruler of Crystonia?” asked another.
“Where did she get that?” queried a third.
“Wizard, please explain what is going on,” said the man who sat beside Shanta.
The Wizard dipped his head and looked down at Carling. Placing a hand gently on her head, he whispered to her. “Let it begin, my Carling. Let it begin.” He looked back up at the council. “I will let Carling explain.”
Carling placed the palms of her hands against the breastplate. “Dear Village Elders. I understand your shock at seeing this breastplate on me. I assure you, no one is more surprised than I that I possess it. I, too, have grown up hearing the stories of the silver breastplate. I had always been told that the wearer of it would be the rightful heir to the throne that sits empty on Mount Heilodius. I never aspired to be that person. When the Wizard of Crystonia first visited me, I felt sure he had made a mistake. I’m still not convinced that he hasn’t. However, I have committed myself to fulfill the assignments he gives me to prepare for this responsibility.” She paused and brushed a few tendrils of her auburn hair off her forehead and tucked them behind her right pointed ear. She was surprised at how relaxed she felt. The tension and, yes, fear that had filled her before were gone. She placed her fingertips together, forming a steeple, then pressed them against her lips as she thought about what she should say next.