Journey To Light: Part I of the High Duties of Pacia by Bob Craton
***
When he awoke, it took Telemaco a moment to remember where he was. Their cabin had once been the abode of some forester, but when he and Meranda had arrived, it was just a roosting place for birds and a cozy home for small woodland creatures. Former tenants still returned often to chatter, squawk, and otherwise express displeasure regarding their unjust eviction. The boy sat up in his blankets and saw that Meranda was already awake on the other side of the room.
“Good morning, Mother,” he said to her.
“Good morning, Tel. You dreamed again, didn’t you?” she said as she came closer. She always knew when he did.
“Yes, but it was something I already remembered this time. It was about the day we left Gram . . . , when we left Naomi and Theo’s home, I mean.”
“You don’t think of them as Grammi and Pappi anymore?” asked Meranda as she sidestepped the main issue.
“Those are baby names.”
“You started calling them that when you were a baby, in fact. Before . . . before anything happened.”
“Naomi and Theo aren’t their real names, are they?” he said and she shook her head. “Tell me now. I’ll keep it a secret like everything else.”
Meranda’s head hung down, and her sadness was visible. “They were Evando and Melisa Feoras.”
“They weren’t really my grandparents either,” he said as a statement rather than a question.
“No, but their family and ours have been together for generations. They loved you as much as any blood-kin could. It’s right for you to think of them as grandparents, especially since you can’t remember your true ones. You should honor them always.”
“I will. They’ll always be my grandparents in my heart. And I know you’re my aunt in truth.”
“Your mother’s sister, as you’ve always known,” she said. Then Telemaco’s face clouded and he spoke.
“It’s been five years since we left home. Why haven’t we gone back to see them?” he asked but the boy knew the answer before he finished the question. He softly said, “They’re dead.”
“Probably within a day after our departure,” Meranda told him.
“Was it the Yuzoi?”
“Yes, they were the cause even if the Yuzoi didn’t strike the deathblows personally.”
“I hate them,” he said bitterly.
“The Yuzoi are only the servants of their masters.”
“Then I hate their masters more,” he said. Meranda looked in his eyes for a long moment before replying.
“This is the time when I should tell you that hatred is an evil thing. It poisons the one who hates more than it hurts those who are hated. Our family has believed this forever, Tel, and these words are true. Yes, I should convince you that hatred is wrong but that would be hypocritical of me,” she said, but when she saw his eyes she added, “Perhaps you’ll be better than I am when you’re grown. No, I shouldn’t say perhaps. You will be a better person.”
She waited for the boy to say something but he did not speak. The expression on his face, however, said ‘tell me more now’ as clearly as words could have.
“All right, my son, if I may still call you that; I’ve pretended to be your father for so long and now your mother, it seems like the right thing to say. Your parents were killed the day the Zafiri and their mercenaries attacked our home, the most peaceful place in the world. My father, your grandfather, was also slain. My mother had passed away two years before that awful day but my older brother, his wife, and their three children were killed then. So were my aunt and uncle along with all of their families. You father’s kin suffered equally. Melisa and Evando were the ones who saved you and brought you to me. We’ve fled from the Yuzoi and the other servants of the Zafiri ever since.” The boy wanted to hear more but Meranda changed the subject. “I want you to memorize the names of some more of my friends today. The last message we received said we’ve lost two more.”
“The Yuzoi found them?”
“In one case, yes; it’s always been dangerous to help us. But Sennora Emerick was old and the message said she died peacefully in her sleep. The names I’ll give you today are the last on the list so now you’ll know how to contact all of them. You already know how they leave money and messages for us at our secret places. Remember, no one knows about you, only me. I’ve kept your existence a secret from everyone including my friends since the beginning.”
“I know but why?”
“Messages might be intercepted or people may talk under extreme circumstances. The fewer who know the secret the better, and I’m the only one left who does,” Meranda explained. Sadness showed in her eyes as she continued, “This will hurt you to hear but you should listen anyway. I’m certain that Grammi and Pappi took their own lives before the Yuzoi found them. It’s what they always planned to do if capture seemed imminent. They feared revealing too much when they were tortured.” Tears of sorrow welled in the boy’s eyes but none fell down his cheeks.
“You mean they died to protect me.”
“Yes,” the woman replied. “The time will come when we tell my friends about you – no, I should say our friends and not just mine. For now, avoid going near any of them for their own protection, but in a crisis any of them would give their own lives to defend us.”
The boy’s face was fierce and intense but he only nodded in reply.
“There’s something else, son. How many times have I told you that one day you’ll need to do something you dislike doing?” the woman asked.
“Very many and you used stronger words than dislike most of the time. You’ve nagged me constantly that if you say something is urgent, then I must do what whatever it is even though I hate the idea. I always remember your words.”
“Yes, you do. I’m sorry for the way I’ve held things back over the years. It’s not just that I wanted to wait until you were older . . . well, it’s hard for me to get words out sometimes,” she said. Her voice was soft and her eyes unfocused. “I’ll talk as much as I can now.”
“Good.”
“But it really is difficult is for me to speak about our family. Just in case I fail to tell you all you need to know, I’ve written everything in a letter to you.” She reached into a pocket stitched into her skirt and handed him a flat leather wallet. “Keep this safe. You’ll need to read it if something happens before I finish telling you all the facts. After that, we must dig up the hidden chest so you can read the book inside. I don’t know when that will happen. You may have to do it by yourself.”
“You’ll go with me,” the boy said but he could see that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “I’ll find it myself if I have to. I promise.”
“Now promise me you’ll do whatever I say without hesitation,” she pleaded. “I won’t order you against your will unless it’s truly necessary. Please promise, son.”
He paused only slightly. “I promise.”
“Come to the table now, please,” she said. “I need to show you something. It’s part of the secret.” He saw a sack of flour and an enameled wooden box on the table. He wasn’t surprised when she sprinkled flour across the top of the table. She often used a finger or stick to draw in dust or ashes, anything that could be brushed away quickly. “In the directions to find the book, do you remember the reference to the blue stone with this carved on its side?” she said as she drew Æ in the flour. “And a metal plate embossed with this symbol?” she added as she showed him Ŧ.
“Of course I do. It’s ‘seventy-eight chains north’ from the rock and ‘fourteen chains west’ of the plate, and I know the rest of the sequence too.”
“Good,” she said as she wiped away the flour. “This is the chain.” She opened the box and lifted a bright silvery length of metal links which were braided together in a complex pattern. When stretched out, it was almost as long as Meranda’s arm and as thick as her little finger. An oval amulet dangled from one end. He stared at it until she spoke again. “I used this as a measuring tool when I buried the book. Keep t
“This is too shiny to be silver,” the boy said as he looked down and fingered the chain.
“You’re right. That metal is much stronger and won’t tarnish. I’ll tell you about its origin later and also about the inscription on the amulet. The chain is very old and valuable, but its only purpose is to carry the amulet which is even older and more important. The symbols engraved on it are the Emblem of a High Duty.” Then Meranda pulled a small leather pouch from the wooden box. “This bag holds another amulet on a necklace but it’s not for you to wear. In fact, it doesn’t belong to any one person but to all the people. Keep it safe until we find the right person to wear it.” Telemaco was staring at the chain but now he looked up to take the bag from her. Looking inside it, he saw that while the necklace was smaller than the chain, the two amulets were identical except for the difference in the symbols etched on them – on the one with the chain and on the other.
“I understand. This necklace is important too. Is it what I think . . .?”
“Yes, I’m sure you’ve guessed who wore it last. But let’s talk of something else for a moment,” she said as she tried to smile and lighten the conversation. “Tomorrow afternoon we’ll ride into Peotta. That gelding we bought for you rides well, doesn’t he?”
“Sure, but he’ll never match Honora.”
“What horse could? Listen, after we check to see if we have any deliveries at our nearest secret drop-off, we’ll get a good meal someplace in Peotta and listen for whatever news we can pick up.” She wanted to say more but she could see he was concentrating so hard on something else that he wouldn’t have heard her. When he finally looked up, she met his gaze.
“Explain something you said about our friends,” he demanded. “I understand why people can be so loyal to you that they’re willing to die defending you. But no one knows about me and you said us. Why would they die for us?”
“Because they know who I am . . . and who you will be.”