by Bryan Davis
Jason laid a hand over his stomach. “I can live with that.”
“Let’s say good-bye to Mother.”
Jason followed Adrian out the doorway and into the community room. His mother sat on a wicker bench, a pillow beneath her for cushioning. She was talking to Meredith.
Dressed in breeches and bonnets, they were both dirty from harvesting the crop of corn, late beans, and early potatoes. With evening approaching, they would soon wash in the bath house before going to the kitchen to prepare their commune’s meal while the men continued their labors. Since many had taken an hour or two off to watch the tournament, they had to hurry through their chores in order to finish before nightfall. As a younger male, Jason was expected to help with the meal preparation, but his assignment as Prescott’s bodyguard would allow him to be excused.
Jason glanced at the new belt around his waist. Maybe this position wasn’t a bad idea after all.
When Adrian approached his mother, he lowered himself to one knee and bowed his head. Surprised at his brother’s formal pose, Jason nevertheless copied it, still clutching the newsletter in one hand.
Her graying hair falling from her bonnet, his mother stood and gestured for Adrian and Jason to rise. With glistening gray eyes peering out from the midst of dark, loamy smudges, she forced a smile. “Adrian, will you be joining the hunting party tonight?”
Adrian glanced at Meredith, who had also risen. “Yes, Mother. The prey is too great a beast for only two, so they have requested that I accompany them.”
Blinking nervously, Meredith wiped her hands on a once-white apron. “Is it a mountain bear you seek?”
Jason looked at Meredith’s hopeful eyes. Hers, too, glistened. Maybe she and Mother had been talking about Elyssa, captured and dragged away by a mountain bear well before harvest began. These bears had been known to keep humans captive for months before killing and eating them. Able to speak word-like grunts, they found the company of captive humans entertaining, at least for a while. The myths said dragons did the same, but the dragon stories were likely just embellishments of the mountain bears’ ways.
Adrian gave Meredith a kindly nod. “As always, Mistress Cantor, we will search for any sign of Elyssa. With her cleverness, I am sure she has devised a way to signal her whereabouts.”
Removing her bonnet and letting her gray hair spill down to her shoulders, Meredith looked away, hiding her tears. “And no one is better able to find her than you, Adrian.”
Jason tried to gauge Adrian’s expression. Why would he say that to Meredith? Was he really planning to look for Elyssa while he was in the wilderness? He shouldn’t raise false hopes. A teenager couldn’t survive that long in a bear cave. Ten days, maybe, but not fifty. As Adrian said, Elyssa was clever—so clever one of the clerics had accused her of being a Diviner, but she had avoided the consequences. Her mother had convinced the governor that Elyssa’s perception skills were merely the result of an innate intelligence, which was probably true. Still, her cleverness couldn’t guarantee survival in the rigors of the wild. She wasn’t a warrior maiden, certainly not like Marcelle. Not even close.
Now weeping, Meredith strode toward the kitchen area. “I had better start a fire and clean up.”
When she was out of earshot, Jason shifted his gaze back to Adrian. “What was that all about?”
Adrian looked at his mother. “Shall I tell him or let Father do it?”
“You tell him. Your father doesn’t wish to see you until you return. You know what he says about good-byes.”
“Yes,” Adrian said, nodding. “I know. And I will tell him very soon.”
Jason looked at their somber expressions. Neither wanted to repeat their father’s lamenting words: The last time I said good-bye to a son, he never returned. No. Another reminder of Frederick would reopen wounds still too raw to expose. After all, it had been only one harvest since Frederick went on his journey, less than two years. Their hopes for his return had been dashed only thirty days ago when Adrian found Frederick’s distinctive cap near the boundary on the north side. It was a three-corner style with a long purple feather through the band, dirty and torn. He had gone on the same journey Adrian would now attempt.
Jason’s mother touched his sword. “Adrian told me of your new position. Your father and I are very proud of you. I wish we could go to the invocation and see you at the governor’s side.”
Offering a sad nod, Jason looked at the floor. Communal villagers would never be invited to an invocation. Being poor, they would forever be servants, their backs fit for bearing loads, their muscles fit for plowing furrows in unbroken ground, and their warrior skills fit for defending the softer bodies of the elite and spilling blood in their stead.
She kissed Adrian on the cheek. “Do not let doubts from the home front rise in your heart. You know that your father and I believe in your quest, though he cannot speak the words to bless your journey. May the Creator be with you.”
“And with you, Mother.” Adrian hugged her. “I will find the Lost Ones. I swear it.”
When they broke the embrace, they stared at each other for a moment, neither one saying a word. Unspoken emotions seemed to flow from heart to heart like a flood.
Jason pondered his brother’s words. The Lost Ones. For some reason the old fables sounded so real now. Adrian believed them. His mother believed them. His father, though he no longer mentioned them, believed them as well. If three of the wisest people in all of Mesolantrum took the stories seriously, why would everyone in school think they were nonsense?
Tears welling, Adrian patted Jason on the back again. “Let’s go. You have to get there by sundown, or Prescott will make you work without pay.”
Their mother waved. “I will see you tonight, Jason. Take care.”
Adrian opened the heavy oak door and strode out. When they were both outside, he leaned a shoulder against the door and pressed it until the latch clicked. Such a heavy barrier was necessary to keep out the cold during the post-harvest season and to bar the night predators during the warmer days, though no sign of mountain bears had been seen since Elyssa’s disappearance that fateful morning at the end of second season.
Deep scratches marred the ground the morning Meredith discovered Elyssa was missing, taken from her room in the middle of the night. The scattered and torn clothing and broken jars had told the rest of the story. Elyssa had put up as much of a fight as she could. Everyone guessed that the bear had caught her by the throat. Otherwise, someone in the commune would have heard her scream.
At least that was the report the constable wrote. To this day, Adrian doubted the details. He claimed he would have smelled the beast or at least heard a jar breaking. Being a light sleeper and trained in survival, he always woke up at the slightest provocation. The tracks looked real, but it didn’t make sense that a bear could steal away a young woman without notice.
Adrian hiked up his duffle bag and marched toward the forest path. As Jason followed, Adrian spoke quickly. “I told Mistress Cantor that we would search for any sign of Elyssa, but when I said we, I meant you. As I have ranted many times, I don’t think a bear took her. Just today I caught Governor Prescott whispering her name to Drexel as I walked into the court. They seemed annoyed at my sudden appearance, but since I am forbidden to speak without being asked for my opinion, and since my journey cannot be delayed, I was unable to inquire further. So I need you to—”
“Adrian!”
From the forest’s edge, their father hurried toward them. Carrying his axe and hobbling as quickly as the old battle wound in his leg would allow, he seemed agitated, but not angrily so.
“Come,” Adrian said, pulling Jason into a quick jog. After a few seconds, they met their father near the woodshed, just a spear’s throw from the forest.
Breathing heavily, their father looked at Adrian. His wrinkled brow shadowed his dusky eyes, and his gray hair swept from left to right, tossed by a cool breeze. From his stocky legs to his barrel chest to his broad shoulders,
his body quivered with emotion. “I wanted to tell you something.” He paused, and, though his habitual grip on his passions seemed to choke the words in his throat, his wide eyes said it all. Love poured forth.
Adrian grasped his father’s forearm tightly. “You have nothing to fear. I will honor you in all I do, your wisdom, your vision, and your legacy. We are not saying good-bye, for I take your heart and your passion with me. I will find the Lost Ones and restore them to our world.”
With powerful arms, their father embraced both brothers, then, without another word, he turned and strode back toward the forest, his head low and his shoulders shaking.
Adrian pulled Jason again. “Come. We must not watch his grief.” They strode along the path, maintaining silence until they reached the edge of the forest. When the arching boughs of the manna trees created a blanket of shadows over their heads, Adrian spoke up. “I want you to search for any record of what Prescott knows about Elyssa. It won’t take you long to learn your way around the castle. As bodyguard, you’ll have free access to any wing. As long as Prescott is at leisure in his office or entertainment room, he won’t need you, and he has been spending a lot of time at leisure in recent days.”
“Do you have any more clues?” Jason asked. “The castle is huge. I can’t just snoop through every hall and chamber.”
Adrian reached into his bag and withdrew the Courier’s tube. “Watch the message,” he said, handing it to Jason. “There is a cryptic puzzle in the words. When you hear it, you’ll recognize it. I need you to solve the puzzle.”
Jason took the tube and glanced between it and the newsletter. A puzzle to solve? The mysteries were mounting.
“And don’t let Prescott see the Gateway parchment,” Adrian continued. “I don’t want to have to spring you from the dungeon when I return.”
Tucking the tube under his arm, Jason folded the newsletter and stuffed it into his hip pocket. “Prescott won’t see it. I’ll eat it first.”
Adrian plucked a hair from his head and pushed it into Jason’s palm. “You’ll need that for the genetic key. Be sure to keep watching the message, even after you think it’s complete. There will be a long pause. You’ll know it’s finally finished when he says, ‘The rest will be up to you.’ Then erase it immediately.”
“The rest will be up to you.” Jason closed his hand around the hair. “Got it.”
When they reached the glade that marked the upwelling of Miller’s Spring, Adrian stopped in the spongy grass that bordered the spring’s flowing creek. He laid a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “My brother, I know you have doubted the stories Frederick and I have taught you all these years, and I have offered you no solid proof. But you have honored your family by working with us as if you were a true believer. Soon, however, you will reach a crossroads that will force you to decide to either believe in or betray our cause. You will find that you can no longer stand outside the tourney ring.”
Jason let the words repeat in his mind. You can no longer stand outside the tourney ring. Isn’t that what Adrian had done? When it was time to fight for the honor of his family and every commoner in the forestlands, hadn’t he decided to stand outside the ring and allow a noblewoman to claim the crown? The word hypocrite tried to push through Jason’s tightening throat, but he swallowed it down. It wasn’t true, no matter what others claimed. Not only that, treating his older brother with such disrespect would violate the Code.
“You’re right.” Jason grasped Adrian’s wrist in a warrior’s clasp. “Even though the legends sound like storybook fables, I will keep my mind open. But as long as I live, I will never betray you or our family, no matter what happens.”
Adrian pulled Jason close and kissed his forehead. He whispered, “Good. Because if you betray us, I’ll walk all the way back from Dracon and introduce you to a mama mountain bear who has lost her cubs.”
With that, Adrian marched away from the path, following the stream into the woods. Shadows quickly swallowed him, and he disappeared.
As he stared at the trees, Jason shoved the hair into his tunic’s small inner pocket. This was no time to let emotions choke his resolve. He had a job to do: two jobs, one for Prescott and one for Adrian. He had to get going.
The mysterious tube still in his grasp, he splashed across the shallow water. When he reached the other side, he broke into a run, careful to keep his new sword in place. He could listen to the message later. For now, he had to make sure he arrived at the castle before sundown.
Three
Jason gazed at his reflection in the parlor’s mirror. The new uniform, a duplicate of Adrian’s gray trousers and forest green shirt, looked and felt good. His mother would approve. She always said that this shade of green went well with his brown hair and eyes. And with the addition of a long black cloak, the outfit was complete.
An elderly servant, a grandfatherly type with a hefty paunch, bowed as low as his belly would allow. “Is there anything else I may do for you, Master Jason?”
Jason smiled and shook his head. Whenever adults called him by that title, he had the urge to tell them they had it backwards—Jason Masters, not Master Jason. “Thank you, Mortimer. But please, just call me Jason.”
“As you wish.” He bowed again. “His Lordship is tarrying in the parlor with a special guest, so he will not need you until he is ready for the ceremony. Kindly wait here for a summons.”
“I will.” As soon as Mortimer exited the room, Jason grabbed his wadded clothes from a bureau and withdrew the Courier tube. After finding the hair in the pocket, he inserted it into the hatch. Instantly, new letters appeared on the screen. Genetics verified.
He raised the tube to his eye and looked inside. A video played, accompanied by audio, loud enough for him to hear but likely too quiet for anyone else to pick up, unless the eavesdropper looked over his shoulder.
A tall, lean, middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and goatee stood in a forest, clutching Frederick’s tricornered hat. As the man held it up he said, “Adrian, you gave me this hat to analyze, and I have very little to tell you beyond what you already know. Bear hunting is perilous, and I fear that your brother has fallen victim to an especially dangerous variety. As you suspected, the blood on the band was not his. The genetic markers indicate a variety from a distant region, one that neither you nor I have ever ventured into. Yet your brother mentioned many times that he wished to go there to hunt this species.
“Of course, all mountain bears are intelligent, but these appear to be especially crafty. I fear that one has visited our region and placed the hat here in order to lure us to his lands. He likely wants us to come there in order to provide more captives for him and his clan. And, as you long suspected, there is a bear in our midst, one that hides his own guilt by concocting stories about other bears stealing innocent girls. If you find the bear among us, you will find his captive. The key to his secrets never leaves him, for even as he sleeps it rests upon his heart.”
The man placed the hat against his chest. “Because I honor your brother so highly, I urge you to hunt the bears and rid the world of the danger.”
The screen went blank. Jason kept his eye in place, waiting for the next part. Whoever this guy was, he veiled his words skillfully, and anyone who found this tube and managed to break the genetic key would think the message had ended. The idea was simple, but brilliant.
After nearly a minute, another man appeared on the screen, but with his back turned, Jason couldn’t identify him. He carried no weapons but wore a tricornered hat on his head. Could he be Frederick?
The man was looking at a tall stone fence covered with thorny vines, near which a little boy stood, picking up stones and putting them into a big pail. Dirty, rail-thin, and bare-chested, he hoisted the pail into his wiry arms and shuffled away with it, his feet bloody.
As soon as the boy walked out of view, the man, gaunt and unshaven, turned toward the screen.
Frederick!
Jason’s heart raced, thumping so hard he could
barely hold the tube in place. He glanced at the dressing room entrance. No one was around. All was silent. Focusing again on the video, he tried to calm his heart. Settle down. Just listen and learn.
His eyes wide and his tense face dampened with sweat, Frederick spoke with an agitated voice. “Adrian, if every prayer of mine is answered, you will get this message. Hear me, my brother.” He licked his lips and swallowed. “It is all true. Every story is true. I have seen the dragons. I have met the Lost Ones. I do not have time to explain everything, so I simply beg you to come. Attempt the passage in the way I explained before I left home, and we will work together to rescue the lambs from the wolves. I cannot leave, for I fear that I will not be able to return to this world. I must stay and help them for as long as I can.”
Frederick swallowed again. Passion throttled his voice. “I hope to be here to greet you when you make the passage, but if the dragons learn of my presence, you will likely not see me again. For now, I can only bring comfort to the Lost Ones. The rest will be up to you.”
The screen went blank again.
His hands shaking, Jason jerked toward the bureau and dropped the Courier tube back on the wad of clothes. His heart continued pounding. Sweat dampened his armpits. Although no dragons appeared in the video, Frederick would never lie about something like that. The legends had to be true.
He pulled the folded newsletter from the pile of clothes and read the words greedily. Now they seemed alive. They were no longer fairy tales; they were eyewitness accounts blazing across his mind, as true as his mother’s most solemn promises.
More than one hundred years ago, a dragon by the name of Magnar came from a world they called Starlight and captured several families of humans. No one knew the makeup of the victims, but based on missing persons reports, most guessed that they included ten to twelve adults along with a few children. Magnar took his victims to Starlight through a strange underground gateway, and they disappeared in a flash of light. About a year afterwards, one of the younger men, Uriel Blackstone, escaped.