FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #6

     Almost everyone thought the man and the boy were father and son.  Only Wicker knew the truth.  She watched as the shrouded figure of the man made his way to her small and cozy shop.  He seemed to blend almost into the dark undulating shadows of the street, as though he had been created from just another formless shadow instead of flesh, blood and bone.  She sighed as she stared, for almost twenty-one seasons the land had been bathed in unending darkness.  Most never remembered the time before, the time of the Old, when light still filtered into the world; only the Brethen still remembered and hung unto the promise that the Old had made with each of their dying breaths.

     The man stopped and stared at the boy who was over by the horse drawn cart.  With one more furtive look over his shoulder, the man shrugged through the door and glared at her back.  She peered intently at the young boy as he lounged in the street and didn’t turn at once when the man spoke in his gravel tinged voice.  “I see that you still keep the secrets of the Old.”

     She turned slowly and nodded recognizing the familiar words that the Brethen always greeted each other with.  She inclined her head and finished the greeting, “There are still a few that remember the oaths and ceremonies and know what it means to betray Brethen.”  She nodded toward the boy and continued, “In time, the secret of who and what he is will come out.  Are you prepared for the backlash when that time comes, Mirron?”

            Mirron scowled and nodded.  “Aye, we have taken him this far, old one. I am prepared to keep my promise until he no longer needs me.”  Wicker sighed and nodded.  Mirron was as good as his word and she knew that if needed he would make the ultimate sacrifice.  She stared at the boy and for a minute a soft pearly light seemed to envelope him.  He was taller then when she had last seen him just 3 seasons ago.  The muscles of his chest and arms strained against the coarse material of his blue shirt.  His black hair didn’t hold a glint of blue as some in the village did, and that alone Wicker knew should have given away who and what the boy really was.  But the village folk always were a little bit slow on the uptake and she had been able to fool them this long. 

            She sat down in her ancient rocker and said, “Bring the young one in here.  I am ready to see him now.”  Mirron grunted and went to the door.  The boy strode into the small shop, he had never slunk in like Mirron often did, and that was another warning sign to anyone in the know of such things.  The boy’s demeanor had always shouted that there was more to him then met the eye. 

            He strode purposefully to the chair that always awaited him.  He had been coming to meet the wise old woman for as long as he could remember.  In his mind, she and Mirron were his family.  He had never paused to wonder why he never called Mirron father, he had always supposed the man was his father, but had never felt right in calling him by such a familiar name.  He took the older woman’s hands in his and smiled at her.  Her yellow eyes searched his brown ones and her voice sounded more tired then he ever remembered it sounding before when she finally spoke.  “Child, we have done the best that we could, old Mirron and I.  Time has passed far quicker then I thought it would.”  She placed a hand against his cheek.

     He smiled at her. Wicker and Mirron were the first people that he remembered. Actually, he thought, they are the only people I can remember from my earliest seasons.  None other then the battle scarred man who had taught him how to fight and plow the earth and the old woman who had taught him to love books and knowledge.  He suspected that they were as close to parents as someone like him would have ever gotten.  He blinked at that thought and Wicker sighed, “Yes child, you have always known there was something different about yourself.  How many seasons have you seen now?”

     He swallowed thickly and said softly, “Almost twenty-one seasons, wise one.”  She leaned back heavily in the rocking chair.  He studied her face and realized just how old she had become in those seasons.

     “Not so much a child anymore Tal, you are a man now.  It is time that you learned the truth.”  She gestured toward a corner of the room that lay shrouded in shadows.  “Go over to the forbidden chest and get out the large black leather volume.”

     He looked at her a moment, but knew that what she wanted must be important.  He had never been allowed to venture near the forbidden chest.  Wicker had always told him that the knowledge there would burn through his mind if he had dared to even touch a book in that forbidding chest. The one time that he had tried to peek under the old black and silver shawl that covered the chest he had felt a surge of electricity shoot threw him that had left his hair standing on end for nearly a month. He remembered how little Alira had laughed at him for all that month.  He pushed thoughts of the troublesome girl out of his mind.  She had begun acting strange around him of late, never meeting his eyes when they talked, following him around at times with a strange look on her face.

    He strode over to the chest now, his mind focused on the old wooden container.  He removed the shawl, cringing a bit but when nothing else happened he opened the chest with a creak of its hinges. Other books laid scattered about the musty insides of the chest, but he quickly saw the cloth enshrouded book and brought it back to her.

     She held the volume on her lap and sighed.  “In every life, Tal, there comes a time when you have to decide what you will do when evil comes slithering into the world.  I and Mirron, and many others, made that choice twenty-one seasons past.  Some stood and fought, while others were given other choices.  Mirron chose to make the stand with the brave.  I chose a different path.”  She looked down at the book and held a withered and wrinkled hand up forestalling him any chance to speak.  “What do you remember of the Great War that I have had you read in the past?”

     He frowned and said, “The great war stopped a greater darkness from spreading across the land.  Quentia and her followers drove the evil back to the edge of the vast forest and the land was bathed in light.”

     Wicker nodded and said, “Yes, that is what the books you have read would have you believe.”  She gestured toward the window and continued, “Yet, since that time our land has seen strife and darkness.  Why do you think this is Tal?”

     Tal shrugged and said, “I think probably the volumes were written by Quentia’s followers who put the right spin on things.”

     Wicker clapped her hand and said, “Exactly.  It’s good to see you actually paid attention instead of dreaming of your next weapon lesson with Mirron.”  She placed a hand on the volume in her lap and continued, “This is the only remaining copy of the truth and the prophecy.”  She looked up at him and said, “It has been very dangerous to have this, but I knew this day would come, when Mirron and I would have to let you go to fulfill your destiny.”

     Tal cocked his head and she continued, “Twenty-one seasons past, there was a prophecy that the last goddess of the Old gave to her followers.  The prophecy states that a man with no parents, a girl with no heart, a thief with no guile and a warrior with no valor will arise and together this unlikely group will defeat the darkness that was let loose unto this world.”  She licked her lips and said in a softer voice, “You, Tal, are that man.”

     Tal blinked at her, not believing what she was telling him.  A prophecy about him, it couldn’t be.  He was nothing special.  Mirron had told him that enough growing up and now he was supposed to be some hero?  It seemed ridiculous.  He stood up and walked to the window looking at the dreary landscape and said, “I’m not the man in that prophecy, wise one.  I am nothing special.”

     Wicker chuckled softly and said, “Tal, child, it is your uncertainty that tells me you are the one of the prophecy. Mirron and I were entrusted with this knowledge by the Old.  We were chosen to help you on your initial path.  Now that time has ended, now you must go on the rest of your journey alone.”

     He turned and stared at the old woman.  Alone? How could she expect him to leave all that he knew and just head out into the world? He sat back down and said, “How am I supposed to help defeat some darkness when I don’t even know what it is? Where are the other people in the prophecy?”

     Wicker shook her head and said, “Child, you were always impatient.  The prophecy says that when you find each member, you will know them and they will know you.”  She held the book out and he just stared at the cloth covered volume.  Seeing his hesitation, the old woman continued, “It is now yours Tal.  You will need it as a guide on your journey.”

     He took the book and a calm sense of peace enveloped him as the book warmed slightly in his touch.  A thousand pictures flooded through his brain as he held the book and he closed his eyes, hoping that would stop the assault it just intensified the images.  It felt as though a thousand years passed before he could open his eyes and look at the old woman again.  Wicker nodded at him and said, “Child you are the one of the prophecy.  The book recognizes this and now you must also in your heart.”

     He stared at the old woman and then down at the book in his hand and knew that what she was telling was the truth.  He just didn’t know if he had the courage to take this prophetic destiny in his hands and make it his own.  Without another word, he slowly walked way from Wicker’s cozy shop.

    Mirron watched him go and said, “You did not tell him everything, old one.  He needs to know the whole truth.”

     Wicker stood up and watched his retreating form and didn’t speak for a minute.  A second figure darted down the road in Tal’s wake, a slighter figure followed the footsteps of the boy.  She sighed and turned to Mirron, “I gave him the information that he needed now, old friend.  He has to figure some out on his own.  You know that as well as I do.”

       Mirron grunted and gestured after the slighter figure.  “She does not know what will pass.  It is a mistake to allow the child to follow him.”

     Wicker chuckled.  She had known that little Alira had been eavesdropping on the conversation between Tal and herself, and she had allowed the girl to hear what was said.  She lost her smile and stared sadly at the retreating figures.  “Old friend, I could not have stopped my young charge from following Tal, any more then we can stop the seasons from slipping away.  The girl has a part to play in this all the same as we do.”

     Mirron grunted again and sighed, “Aye, I know that well and good, but doesn’t mean I have to like it anymore then you do.”  He slunk out of the shop, leaving Wicker alone with her own thoughts.  No, she thought, we don’t have to like it old friend, but we must play the parts that we were given.  No matter what we may want to do to the contrary.

back to Contest #6