The Sword of Darrow (23 page)

T
he afternoon sun shone into their faces and a speck on the horizon blurred as if surrounded by fog.

Darrow raised his hand to shield his eyes. The speck should be Kelofel, the first town his army would encounter.

What waited in Kelofel, Darrow could not know. Goblins were stationed there, a handful who kept the peace. These were no match for Darrow’s growing band, but perhaps reinforcements had arrived. Perhaps a battle lay ahead.

Closer, Darrow could see a steeple that rose above the town, but no other building stood more than one floor from the ground. A few hundred people called Kelofel home. They were traders and shopkeepers who mostly sold to the nearby farmers and bought their crops in return.

Darrow looked ahead, shielding his eyes against the afternoon sun, searching for signs of trouble. He could make out shapes, wagons and walkers descending on the town. What was the meaning? He could not know.

His followers struck up their song and great voices filled the sky, but Darrow turned and ordered silence. An ambush might await. The company quieted. All eyes watched the village. The only sounds were the footsteps of soldiers, more than five hundred of them, and the rustling of their garments.

Horsemen emerged, a band of five galloping furiously in their direction. Darrow halted his army. Those with swords drew them from their belts. As the riders grew closer, Darrow could make out their shapes. These were not goblins. They were men and they were waving frantically.

Down the long line of marching men and women, the volunteers eyed one another. Then, from the village came a sound.

Church bells.

The first ring was solitary and followed by another, but the rings came faster. These were not rings to mark the time of day or a sad event. These rings were furious and exuberant. The men exchanged curious glances, unsure of the meaning of the sounds.

The horsemen pulled to a stop. A short man of perhaps forty-five years old with a hard face and a short beard dropped from his saddle. The man’s eyes searched among the soldiers, looking for a warrior with a polished shield, fine boots, or even clean clothes.

Not finding such a warrior, he looked at the boy before him and said, “I have an important message. Can you take me to Darrow?”

“I am Darrow.”

For a moment, the man was surprised to see this small figure dressed in rags. But he dropped to his knee and made a great bow.

“My name is Haidus and I come from Kelofel to welcome the mighty Darrow, who has freed our village from goblin rule.”

As they heard these words, the volunteers began whispering to those behind them that the goblins had abandoned Kelofel. Before the news was halfway down the line, a great cheer arose and the soldiers, one and all, knew that Kelofel was theirs.

Haidus offered Darrow his horse. But Darrow refused and asked him to lead his horse and walk with him to the village. The long line began to move again as Darrow peppered Haidus with questions about his enemy and when their army might arrive.

There were only seven goblins in Kelofel. Upon hearing that the fort had fallen, they had fled.

“There are rumors,” Haidus added, his face growing dark and worried. “They say a great goblin army is marching across the plain to meet you.”

But Darrow paid the rumor no mind. The goblin command in Blumenbruch would only now be learning about the fort. Once they knew, they would send soldiers. He had time. Probably two full days.

Soon they were a short distance from the village. The streets were filled with people and Darrow wondered how a village this small might have so active a market. As they drew closer, children sprinted from the village cheering and jumping up and down like a hundred bouncing balls. They were followed by women and girls and a few men, who carried loaves of bread, pieces of cheese, and even slices of dried meat.

As they came into the village, Haidus again urged Darrow to take his horse and Darrow, having never ridden a horse, declined. But Haidus persisted, explaining that the people must know which of the men was the great Darrow and that, if he alone was on horseback, they would know. So, reluctantly, Darrow climbed into the saddle.

When his horse stepped onto the village street, it was not only the few hundred citizens of Kelofel who had turned out to cheer his army but a thousand or more who had gathered from all parts of the plain. They stood on the rooftops. They sat in the windows. Parents lifted small children to their shoulders to get a glimpse of the leader who sent the goblins running across the plain.

A thunderous cheer erupted through the village. They hailed Darrow’s soldiers as great heroes, though barely thirty of them had ever seen battle at all. They reached to touch their garments and hurled flowers in their path.

But most of all, they pressed one another for a chance to touch the great hero or even his borrowed horse. Darrow looked stunned, unbelieving, as if he had entered a strange dream. But it was no dream at all, for with each step, the cheering grew louder still.

When they reached the square before the church, another great cheer sounded from the crowd. There was music with a drum and some instruments with strings, but no one could hear the notes. Darrow’s horse was taken to a platform where leading citizens stood. They dressed shabbily, but these were the best that they had. When the crowd had quieted, a woman climbed to the platform and placed a necklace of flowers around Darrow’s neck.

Haidus raised his hands to silence the crowd. On behalf of Kelofel, he spoke.

“For more than a decade, the goblins have ruled our village. For ten long years, our people have suffered at their hands. But today the goblins are gone, chased to the west by a great leader and the brave soldiers who have joined his cause. All hail the mighty Darrow! All hail a free Kelofel!”

Another great cheer arose from the crowd. They called for Darrow to speak and their hero did not disappoint.

“I thank you, Haidus, for your kind words, and I thank the people of Kelofel and so many who have traveled so far to greet us and offer encouragement for the battle ahead. Our fight for freedom, however, is only beginning.

“Within days, we will face a large goblin army on the plains. These will be veteran soldiers, experienced, trained, and armed. Our challenge is to meet this army and defeat it. Our challenge is as large as a mountain whose snowcaps surge into the sky. But there are no choices. High as it stands, formidable as it may be, we will find a way to the top.

“We need food. We need shoes. We need bows and arrows. Most of all, we need swords. And today I ask all of you to give us whatever you can to help us in the great cause that we share together.

“Finally, I ask something most important of all. For too many years, throughout our kingdom, our spirits have been crushed by tyrants and our hopes have withered from fear. But today it is time to put those fears aside. Today, it is time to imagine a free Sonnencrest. Today, it is time to find our courage, to believe in our strength, and to forge a new future in our land.

“If you are able, join us. If you have food or weapons, supply us. But whoever you are and whatever you can do, most of all, believe in us. Believe in yourselves. And believe in Sonnencrest and the great nation we can build together.”

When Darrow finished, the villagers cheered until their voices were hoarse. That night, every oven baked bread. Every household sharpened knives and made weapons. In the morning, they delivered cakes, daggers, clubs, and ordinary poles they had sharpened themselves.

But in the great stack of goods donated to Darrow, there were only twelve real swords.

B
abette, Scodo, and Zauberyungi continued across the plain. For a long time, Scodo walked by the side of the wagon, not looking at the princess at all.

“So you were never Sesha,” Scodo murmured, as though he had lost a friend.

“Oh, Scodo, I am the same person, I really am. Asterux made me Sesha to protect me from the goblins. If they had found the princess, I would have been dead.”

Scodo eyed Babette nervously. The ugly Sesha had made him less uneasy.

Babette pulled the wagon to a stop and climbed to the ground.

“Don’t be afraid, Scodo.” But Scodo stepped back.

“How can a beautiful princess be friends with a monster like me?”

Sesha looked at Scodo for a long time. Then she spoke. “Scodo, for your friendship, I would gladly be the ugliest woman on earth. And I would do this because you are the most beautiful man I know.”

Then she put her arms around the scorpion man and held him for a long, long time.

For hours, Scodo and Babette rode across the desert in silence. Then Scodo asked, “Will he be back?”

“I doubt it. But who can say? For all I know, he might be a tick on Zauberyungi’s behind.”

Scodo laughed. “Don’t be so sure. I doubt he’s so anxious to tangle with you again.”

“I don’t scare Zindown. My magic could never hurt a wizard like him.”

“You certainly hurt his pride.”

Babette smiled. “That couldn’t be hard.”

“I have a question,” Scodo continued. “That was Zindown himself in the sky with the wand, right?”

“That’s right.”

“If he is a wizard, he could disappear and reappear somewhere else. It would seem he could use this power to dodge your spell.”

“Not exactly. A wizard does not really disappear. What Zindown did was move faster than you can see.”

“I don’t understand.”

“In that particular magic, there is a system. The wizard lays out a pattern of points. He uses his power to move from one point to the next. It happens so fast that it seems he is disappearing. But really, he is only moving from one point to the next.”

“Can you do the same thing?”

“I can’t. I can barely get this mule across the desert.”

For a while they continued without words. Then Scodo asked, “Can you teach me magic?”

Babette looked up, a little surprised at the request. “It would take too long.”

“Can I try something simple?”

Babette paused for a moment, looking down at the reins. “It’s not possible to learn magic here in the desert. It requires so much concentration. The wagon is bumping and rattling. Zauberyungi makes noise. There are too many distractions.”

“I can try.”

“Really, it couldn’t work.”

“Please.”

For a long time, Babette simply stared at the desert ahead, lost in thought. Then she spoke.

“For this to work, you have to block out all your senses: your sight, your hearing, everything. You must retreat completely inside your own mind. That would be really difficult here.”

“Let me try.”

“Well, let’s try just the first step. But just the first step. Here it is. Consider those people who have showed you kindness and love. Just think about them. Feel their kindness. Feel their love. These things give each of us power.

“As you do, go through your entire life. Remember everything. Grasp for every kindness, every good deed, every act of love both large and small. And when you bring these events to life, they will grow a goodness and power you can feel inside. Hold onto that power. Feel it. Grow it.”

So Scodo began. With little effort, he blocked out all his senses. Such were his powers of concentration that he was soon separated from all his surroundings. Deep into his memories, he traveled.

His first thoughts were of his parents. He thought of his times as a child alone with his mother and father, in the forest. He remembered carrying stones to build his parents’ house. He remembered walking the woods with his father. He remembered the sweet song of his mother lulling him to sleep and the word
vianu
, which meant love and understanding. These thoughts stirred him with warmth and made him feel strong.

He thought of Hugga Hugga, who had accepted him as a soldier and a friend. He thought of the soldiers of Sonnencrest, many of whom had treated him with respect. He clung to these memories and they aroused warm feelings.

His mind returned to his mother. He recalled the moment when he asked her why he was different and if he was indeed as ugly as he seemed. And he remembered that his mother told him that it was she who was a monster and how he was the most beautiful creature of all.

He thought about when Sesha found him in the forest, her friendship, and the kindnesses she had shown him.

He began to weep. Inside, he felt a power stirring in his heart. And that power felt good and right and he knew that that was what he needed to grow.

But as he searched for memories of kind acts, he could go no further. Scodo had known the goodness of others so seldom in his life. So he lifted his head and asked, “Now what?”

“It takes much longer than that, Scodo,” Babette snapped.

“My memories of goodness are few. But the ones I hold are strong. Let me try the next step.”

Babette did not believe that Scodo could be ready for the next step. After all, this step had taken her years. But she was too tired to argue.

“Think of all those people who have dealt you insults, mocked you, or committed small wrongs. Understand them. Love them. As you do, your power will grow.”

Scodo thought of soldiers who had mocked him. He thought of ordinary people who covered their faces before him. He remembered a woman who lifted his cloak to show his tail and called him the devil. These memories were a multitude.

One by one, he looked into the faces of those who had brought him torment and shame. He looked into their eyes and struggled to understand them. What he witnessed made him shudder, for he did not see evil at all. Instead, he saw hurt and injury and pain. He saw disappointments, humiliations, and tragedies that dwelt deep inside his tormenters—each and every one. These experiences made them small and robbed their hearts of kindness, compassion, and love. Almost instantly, Scodo’s great mind understood that the wrongs against him were not of his own making. They arose in his tormentors from their own injuries to their own souls.

When Scodo considered these things, he was overcome by a deep sadness that stirred him deep inside. He trembled and he shook. He felt compassion for those he remembered and understood that perhaps their afflictions were even greater than his own. His understanding grew to affection. His affection grew to love. Warm, positive, wonderful feelings filled him and a mighty spirit arose inside. As it grew, he felt a joy so great and so vibrant that for a moment he was frightened by its force.

These feelings were too new and too strong. But he was nothing if not brave and he clung to this power and would not let it go. Separated from all sensory contact, he lingered in this condition for a long time. Empowered by these feelings, he forgave all of them, that great and enormous multitude that had mocked him and ridiculed him throughout his life. He forgave them all. Every single one.

Scodo looked up again. “I have forgiven them.”

Babette could not believe these words, but she knew that they were the right ones. More importantly, she could feel a warmth—a powerful, radiant warmth—flowing outward from Scodo’s being. She sensed an enormous power that was almost frightening in its force. And she knew, without a single conscious thought, that she was witness to a miracle so rare and special that centuries might pass before it ever happened again.

Now she understood that inside of Scodo dwelt a powerful force of goodness and magic far more profound than her own. She suspected that Scodo’s untapped powers were perhaps as great or greater than those of Asterux himself. This time, without doubts or skepticism, she spoke in a stern, commanding voice.

“Think of those who have done you the most terrible wrongs. Confront them. Understand them. Forgive them. And your power will grow.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Scodo’s mind descended once more deep into his past. Soon, he faced the terrible mob that had chased him from the goblin village, that had hunted him with torches and dogs. This was the mob that murdered his parents and destroyed the house he had built with his own hands. For many years, he had been unable to face this memory and now he trembled before it.

Suddenly, he became deeply fearful and longed to turn back. But against those fears, his new power gave him strength. For the first time, he looked directly into the faces of the mob and a deeply felt bitterness rose up inside him. Understanding? Compassion? Love? These feelings were far from his reach, but he would not turn back. He peered into their eyes, gleaming with hatred and cruelty of the most vicious kind. He looked into their hearts and wondered what they must contain.

What Scodo saw made him tremble and shake.

Babette looked at her friend and she became alarmed. His hands made fists so tight that Babette feared he might break his own fingers. His body shook so violently that she touched him on the shoulder to offer him calm. But nothing in this world could intrude upon the journey that Scodo had begun.

Hours passed, as the wagon traveled slowly ahead. Babette feared for her friend and decided that somehow she must awaken Scodo from his ordeal. She dreaded that she had unleashed some terrible force so strong that it might destroy him. She feared that he might never awaken. But slowly, his trembling subsided. After a while, his body, remarkably, returned to complete calm.

In her seat next to Scodo, Babette could feel a presence so strong and powerful that it surely stilled trees and calmed creatures miles away. The great power that flowed from Scodo was as real and tangible as the earth beneath them and the raindrops from the sky. She marveled at the strength her friend surely possessed and wondered if he might become the greatest wizard ever known and sow the magic of goodness, justice, and right all across the world.

For a very long time, Scodo remained in his position, his head lowered, his hands holding the seat, with an appearance of total calm. Then, slowly, Scodo lifted his head, opened his eyes, and spoke these remarkable words.

“I have forgiven them.”

Babette was awestruck, but she feared the next step. Already, Scodo had done what had taken her years. Could any being endure something beyond what Scodo had experienced that day? But she also knew that the magic was indeed within Scodo’s reach. And if Scodo could find the magic, he could not only perform good and wondrous deeds; he might well transform an evil world.

For a few moments, she wavered, unable to decide. Scodo looked at her, not with impatience but with understanding and hope. Without a single word, his expression told her that he placed himself completely in her hands—trusting her, without a single doubt, to do what was right. So Babette turned to Scodo, her decision made. With fire in her eyes and a powerful force flowing through her own body, she shouted words that echoed off the cliffs and ricocheted high into the evening sky.

“Search for the one person who has handed you the greatest evil. Search for the one person who has done you the most grievous wrong. Search for the one to whom you owe the greatest and most terrible revenge. Find him! Understand him! Love him! Forgive him!”

Scodo lowered his head and thought. There were many in his life who had done him wrong. But who was worse than the others? He did not know. Harder and harder he thought, reviewing his life and all of the terrible characters it contained. But there was nothing.

Babette, sensing Scodo’s struggle, offered firm instructions: “Don’t reach for him. He will come to you. Let him come. Let him come.”

Returning to his struggle, Scodo first searched for his power. But this time, his mind was jolted as if by some outside force. In his mind, he was suddenly spinning through space, falling and turning, faster and faster, until without the slightest warning, he was still. And when the falling stopped, his entire span of life raced before him. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of events flashed by in a few seconds. But he saw each episode with great clarity, in great detail, and with an understanding he had never before known.