The Sanctuary

Chapter Six:

The Sanctuary

To my brothers who will follow me up to the Mount of Adoration I pen this letter lest you think me more than the man I was. I am Medgag, servant of the Most High God. As this is my 830th season of life, I am no longer so young that I am neither ashamed of my failings nor so bold as to believe that I am without them.

It seems so long ago now when I went up to the highest of the mountains. I had asked to know what would be the way of the nations of men because of their fall from the Way of God. And when I saw the future of man’s deeds I lifted my fist to God and demanded that he change the course of events.

For my arrogance I was struck down. My eyes were closed, my ears were shut and my voice taken from away. For one season I was without their use. Left only with the thoughts of God I saw the excesses of my life. When my season of humility was ended my senses returned. I became whole.
Medgag: The Man of God

Hidden on a neighboring peak to the Mount of Adoration Karr passed the days in a cave observing the Sanctuary of Medgag. The mountain ranges of the Land of Nod were in the period of the frozen mists. Each season the mists that watered Creation changed to snow as the higher elevations became colder covering the mountains with the white powder. For a city dweller from the warm plains of Stone City cold was uncomfortable even while the snow was pleasing to the eye. His problem was maintaining his concealment and still getting up close enough to the Sanctuary to see anything. He learned how the snow mists covered his tracks every three to four days so long as they were shallow. But frequent movement around his hiding place created deep prints in the high snow. Consequently he restricted his forays out of the cave.

Lacking the skills of a woodsman forced him to rely on the supplies he had brought with him. Several failures at hunting confirmed his deficiency in the craft. His food lasted eight days and he was at the point where he would have to give up his surveillance and return to The City of Kings when he decided to risk a late night visit inside the Sanctuary. When he was within approximation of the structure he discovered that the entire surrounding area was covered with the footprints of humans and animals. He realized that he could approach the Sanctuary without danger of leaving a trail. Once in the compound his street-wise instincts served him well in stealing food and provisions including a set of the brown clothing, mountain boots and a warm cloak worn by the scribes of the Order.

How he ate well that night and every day after. The kitchens of the Sanctuary were stocked with a variety of foods and drink by virtue of the tithes brought daily from people all over the Land of Nod. Karr’s street sense told him to restrict what he took to items not easily missed. The practice kept anyone from noticing that a thief had raided the kitchens or food stores. The Order became his sole source of provisions and he made frequent trips into the walls of the Sanctuary. Primarily for food but after a while he began to explore.

The Sanctuary on the Mount of Adoration was built of a light brown stone particular to the Asshur Mountains and mortar in the shape of a square surrounding an open courtyard. Its main entrance was a tunnel running under the west facing walls between the dinning hall and the great hall used as a banquet hall by guests of the Order. Two towers dominated the northwest and southwest corners. The High Tower on the northwest corner was the living quarters of the Head Master of the Council of the Gifted. Housed in the southwest tower were the many libraries of the Order. The southern portion of the Sanctuary was the Hall of Light. Living quarters for the members of the Order and the dwellers were built into the northern side. The eastern section was reserved as the guest quarters for the frequent visitors. With the exception of the towers, the buildings of the Sanctuary were three stories in height and covered with roofs made from tiles formed by mixing crushed rock with mortar.

There were few visitors during the period of the frozen mists since the snow made travel difficult up the small path from the Great Highway. So the guest quarters, which provided the best entry into the buildings, were nearly empty. Using the balconies outside of the rooms, Karr gained access where the darkened corridors made it easy to move about unseen simple by what few members of the Order might roam them in the late watches of the night. He enjoyed sitting in the Hall of Light. The Hall was kept fully lit all of the watches of the night for those of the Order who desired late-night worship or a place of meditation. Karr would sit in a back corner with the hood of his brown cloak covering his head just in case someone came to the Hall. It was his first experience inside a place of worship. There were moments when he imagined that he could feel the very presence of the God of the Brotherhood. His great joy, though, was walking through the library tower. He had never seen so many parchments assembled in one place before, some bound together called books and many more rolled into scrolls. There were shelves from the floors to the ceilings filled with scrolls and books. Though he knew a few words he basically could not read the tongue of men. Browsing the libraries he would gently caress the scrolls. How he wished he could read.

*******************

Simon sat on the rock under the crisp night sky gazing at the neighboring hillside. With a partial moon to his back the mountain across the valley was shrouded by the darkness. He studied the southern slope. This was the third night in a row he had come to the rock to observe the distant ridge.

There it was, he thought. It was just a flicker of a light but he was certain he had seen it.

“He lives in a cave and usually comes out in the late watches of the night,” said Herro startling the scribe so much he almost jumped out of his skin.

The former thief scooted onto the boulder next to Simon.

Surprised, Simon asked, “You have seen him?”

“I heard him first,” laughed Herro. “He was wandering the hills several days past scaring away the game. He is not much of a hunter. Hunger must have gotten the best of him because he broke into the kitchens.”

“How…?”

Herro shrugged his shoulders, “I figured someone that inept at hunting would either have to leave or risk stealing from the Sanctuary. So I hid near the likeliest place to break into the kitchens and waited. He slipped in just long enough to take a few days worth of food before sneaking back out.”

“Did…did you follow him?”

Simon could see the big grin on Herro’s face even in the reduced moonlight. The other man shook his head, “I did not need to. I sat right here and listened to him make his way back to his little cave. Like I said, he is no hunter.”

“And he has returned?”

“Oh yes. Our friend out there is not much of a woodsman but he certainly knows how to get in and out of buildings. My guess is that he is a city dweller who has somehow found himself out of his element. But why?”

“The prince…”

“Most likely. The question is whether he is a friend or a foe. Strangely enough, he occupies himself more often now with the libraries.”

“We must discover his purposes.”

******************

It was a night when Karr had no real reason to roam the Sanctuary. There were sufficient provisions in his cave to last him four or five days. These days he was a man of two minds. He felt the need to report back to the old man at King’s Mountains while his heart tugged him back to the walls of the Sanctuary. The libraries drew him into their rooms with promises of unlocking the mysteries held in their scrolls and books. While looking through the scrolls he had stumble on scrolls with illustrations allowing him to define some words. Building on the knowledge he was gathering an ever-increasing list of words he understood. Confidence mounted in him that, given sufficient opportunities; he would soon be able to actually read.

There was no reason for him to be here. Yet, here he was stealthily navigating his way through the halls connecting the guest quarters to the library tower by way of the Hall of Light. Unusual traffic in the lateness of the night caused him to hide twice avoiding members of the Order strolling the halls.

The lower level of the library tower contained the library accessible to every member of the Order, the dwellers and any guests. He skirted it to climb a small circular staircase to the third level where he would find the illustrated scrolls he was using in his quest to read. Peering around the doorjamb he verified that the room was unoccupied before he glided in over the polished wood floors. He was anxious to get to his studies. It was a big mistake.

The Stoner was in the middle of the room when he realized that he was not alone. There was a man, appearing out of the shadows of the shelves, who was now barring the main door in front of him. Another smaller man was now blocking the side entrance to his sword hand side and he could feel the presence of another person behind him. Calmly he turned thinking that he might casually walk past the man to the stairway. It was not to be. There were two men between him and the stairs. He was in big trouble.

The former street urchin of Stone City did not panic. He had been in tough situations before and had learned to get himself out of them by keeping his senses and reacting before others could act. Logic said if he wanted to run for it he should take on the man at the side door. It would be foolish to try to go through the huge man guarding the main entrance and very stupid to take on two men to get to the stairway. Do the unexpected, he thought. Surprise them.

Taking two steps backward as if he were moving away from the two men, Karr suddenly pivoted and lunged at the larger man protecting the main door. Unfortunately, the man was not fooled by his feign and was waiting for him. The giant greeted Karr with a fist to the ribs and a quick jab to the side of the head. Before he knew what had hit him, the Stoner’s feet flew out from under him and he was rolling across the floor. He tried to come up fighting but the smaller man tripped him and delivered a blow to the other side of his head with his forearm.

Three men were now on him. The bigger of the men had pulled him up and pinned his arms behind his back. The other two were delivering body blows. A quick kick took out the legs of one of his attackers sending him sprawling the floor but the other continued to punish him. Karr was winded and his knees were giving out on him. Try as he might he could not protect himself from the punches nor free himself from the grip of the big man. He thought he was about to pass out.

“Enough!”

Herro brought his fist back for another blow when Simon grabbed his arm. “That is enough,” he insisted.

Hanging in the arms of Hartgore, Karr let his knees go. He was too weak to both stand and stay conscious so he chose consciousness.

“Release him,” Simon commanded Hartgore.

When the big man turned him loose the floor came up and smacked Karr in the face.

“Who are you?” asked the young scribe staring down in the face of the bruised Stoner.

Karr pretended that he was too battered to comprehend the question but Herro was not going for it and gave him a kick in the side. “Answer the scribe, Stoner,” he demanded.

Simon gently pushed Herro away and motioned for the other two men to move back a little.

“Who are you?” he repeated. “And what are you doing here?”

“I believe that I am lost and…,” began Karr.

Simon interrupted him, “If you would like, my friends can continue where they left off. Who are you and what is your business here?”

Karr sat up and rubbed his head. He had the beginnings of a really good headache and his ribs would be sore for days. He was convinced that the scribe did not have the temperament to have him beaten any further but he also knew that the Order did not think too highly of liars. And he had long ago learned that a little truth is easier and often better than the best thought out lie.

“I am called Karr. I followed you here from The City of Kings. I was curious why you would bring a baby all this way in a very round about fashion.” He paused in hopes that the scribe might lead him in the direction he should go in presenting his limited story but the scribe waited for him to continue.

“And once I settled in here I became curious about your little castle in the mountains. So I have been exploring it.”

“Who are you spying for?” demanded Herro stepping up to give him a slight kick. To which Simon responded by pushing the other man back with a hand to his chest.

Karr laughed slightly, “To that, I really do not know. He was an old man with a lot of iron bars. He never gave me his name.”

“Liar!” burst out Herro.

“I am afraid you can beat me until I am unconscious and my answer would remain the same. I never knew what he was called. He traded me more bars of iron for my information than I thought it was worth. You do not push that kind of customer too far.”

The scribe leaned down very close into the Stoner’s face. “Why did you stay instead of returning to tell your master what you had learned?”

“Well, for one thing, he is not my master. I am a freeman. And another thing… I do not know. I have asked myself what I gained by staying out there in the cold watching a big building all day and I do not have an answer.”

Simon reached out his hand to help the Stoner to his feet. “You will stay out in the cold no more. So long as you are in these mountains you will live in the guest quarters of the Sanctuary.”

The other three men started to protest but the scribe raised his hand and turned his head to cut off their objections. “We cannot kill him and if we run him off he can always sneak back. If we allow him to stay in the Sanctuary we can keep our eyes on him.”

Turning to Karr he said, “You are free to leave whenever you desire. However, so long as you remain our guest you will have one of these men with you always.”

“It is late,” said Simon as he started for the main entrance. “We must all get some sleep.”

Just before reaching the door Simon suddenly wheeled around to face Karr, “Whether by choice or obligation we all serve a master. Freedom is an illusion.”

*******************

The noise of the crying infant woke Karr. The Stoner’s lack of comfort in living with the brothers and especially the baby’s protectors made sleep fitful at best. He feared the knife he knew would come from the men who mistrusted his presence among them. And, rightfully so, he regarded the daily life of the Sanctuary with the eyes of a spy probing for weaknesses. Of one thing he was sure, the old man would trade a substantial weight of iron bars for what he had learned in the last couple of days.

There were no guards posted on any of the entrances to the Order’s compound nor to the main road leading up from the Great Highway, let alone the smaller trails, most unknown to those outside of the Order, that run through the mountains to the east of the Sanctuary. King Crom had dispatched a unit of warriors from the Seven Clans to the base of the Mount but Head Master Keron would not permit them any further up the mountain. The Stoner’s military sense was offended by this lack of security. A lone assassin with knowledge of the buildings could easily gain access and kill the child.

Karr heard the baby cry out again. He was given a room two doors down from where the scribe lived with the baby but the boy had a good set of lungs and the sound carried. Slipping into the hall, he listened for any movement of the former thieves who now considered themselves to be the prince’s bodyguards. They were fast asleep. While the men took turns seeing to the needs of the baby during the day, they had fallen into a pattern of allowing Simon to take care of the late night needs. He opened the door to Simon’s quarter carefully and leaned his head in.

“Come on in,” whispered Simon. He was sitting on a chair feeding little Christophe.

Karr sat down on a chair just inside the door and watched the scribe with his charge by the light of a single lamp. The infant gripped the jar holding the formula in his hands and was sucking hungrily on the tip. Wrapped in a blanket, all that was exposed was the child’s head and hands.

“It is…he is just a baby,” Karr said finally.

“What were you expecting him to be?”

This was the first occasion the Stoner had to actually see the prince. Up to this point he had avoided getting close to the infant concerned that if he did the bodyguards would attack him.

“Well, I am not sure. With the city calling him ‘the Great King’ and ‘the King of Kings’ I guess I expected him to be surrounded with a glow, to say the least. I do not know…”

Simon chuckled, “Look and see. He is a human child, nothing more nothing less.”

“What about the talk of a star falling from the sky and the prophecies of the ancients? Everyone in The City of Kings seem to believe he is something more, something special,” replied Karr.

“Have you read the ancient stores of which you site?”

Embarrassed, Karr looked down at the floor. “I was never taught to read or write.”

“That can be corrected.”

The Stoner stood up and walked across the room looking down at the baby. For a moment the child stopped drinking and seemed to stare at Karr. Then, abruptly, he giggled before he resumed his meal.

Karr rushed from the room. It would be days until he would again look at the child.

*******************

The air was frosty. Snow crunched under his feet as he walked. The mists had changed to snow once again in the Asshur Mountains leaving the ground covered with a fresh white blanket piled on an arms length of earlier snows. Karr was on the side of the Mount of Adoration facing the peak where almost one season ago he had hid to observe the Order. It too was draped in a fluffy layer of snow. The barren trees held the snow like white leaves. Everywhere he looked there was whiteness. He was not sure that he could ever become acclimated to the cold or the frozen mists, though it was pleasant looking. Pulling the hood of his brown cloak over his head he wrapped the garment tighter around his body to keep in the warmth.

Word around the Sanctuary was that the royal family of King’s Mountains would be traveling to the Mount to celebrate the young prince’s birthday. He knew all of the king’s children by face from his days of spying within the palace. The queen he had gotten to know personally by virtue of her frequent visits to the Mount over the past season.

Queen Sari had come to the Mount while Karr was hiding in the cave demanding to see her son. To her surprise, the Brotherhood welcomed her into their compound allowing her to be with her child as much as she wanted. After his discovery by Simon and the mighty men, the name the scribe had given to the three former thieves, Karr met the queen on her second journey to the Sanctuary. He learned from Nephilim Hartgore that the queen was unaware, along with most of the Order, of his past trade or how he came to be among them.

Past trade, he thought, was it his past trade or was he just like the trees that shed their leaves temporarily during the moons of the frozen mists only to grow new leaves when the snows passed? It was a good question. One for which he did not have an answer.

Much to his annoyance, he was enjoying his life in the Sanctuary. For one thing, Simon the scribe was teaching him to read the tongue of men. Lacking anything else to do, he had followed the scribe into the libraries three days after he entered the Sanctuary. While the scribe was trying to study Karr looked over his shoulder and asked a few questions about what Simon was reading until the scribe could take no more interruptions. He sat the Stoner down at a table, gave him a scroll with illustrations and a scroll to read. Simon showed him the basics he needed to use the illustrated scroll to decipher the other scroll and left him to the task of learning to read. Karr found that he had a knack for reading. He even began to take scrolls back to his sleeping quarters, which he shared with the three mighty men, and read out loud to the others with Simon helping him on the difficult passages.

His relationship with the mighty men was evolving. At first they regarded him with great suspicion. Taking Simon at his word, there was always one of the three with him wherever he went. Little-by-little they became accustomed to his presence and their suspicions dwindled. Hartgore, who was adept with most types of blades, was the first to associate with the Stoner. He began to tutor Simon and Karr on the use of swords and knives. Neemus was a hunter and woodsman. He tried to make the Stoner into a hunter. While Karr picked up a few skills in the forests, he realized he would never be a hunter so he tried to at least not be a burden to the Nephilim when the two were on the hunt. The sole skeptic remained Herro. Regardless of what Karr did or said he could tell that his motives where always in question. Nephilim Herro was clear in his lack of trust in the Stoner.

Nephilim, the title was new to him. When he asked Simon about it the scribe pulled an old scroll from the library shelves and handed it to Karr. The story was very old and the author unknown. It told of the seasons before the kings when the sons of God began to cross the Euphrates River. They found the Land of Nod to be wild and untamed. Reptilian beasts ruled the land and gained a taste for the flesh of men. A man, called Daytron, made weapons of wood and stone and showed the children of Adam how to kill the reptile monsters driving them back behind the Stone Mountains. In the days of the ancients men still spoke the tongue of the elves. They gave Daytron the elfin name Nephilim, which means mighty man in the tongue of men. Simon the scribe had resurrected the name for the three former thieves to give them a new identity. They were no longer bandits and common criminals they were Nephilim.

A rustling in the bushes brought Karr out of his contemplation. Dismissing the noise as an animal, he realized that he had walked across the valley towards the neighboring peak that was once his hiding place. The last two passing of the moon the three mighty men had stopped shadowing his every movement. Especially when he was not in the Sanctuary. He should be alone except he had the feeling he was being watched. He looked back at the Mount and turning in a full circle he noticed someone standing in front of the entrance to his old cave staring in his direction. Making his way out of the tree line he identified the watcher. It was the old man from King’s Mountains.

Approaching the old man with the fresh snow crunching under his feet gave him an uncomfortable feeling. Not that he had ever felt at ease in the man’s presence. Still, this occasion his inner senses were screaming at him not to get too close.

“Well, my old friend,” waved the old man. He had what passed for a smile on his wrinkled aged face. “It is good to see you again.” He was supporting himself with a rough wooden staff. Clothed in the garb of the brothers of the Order, his lowered hood exposed long stringy black hair. Smiling through stained teeth, his eyes seemed to glow even in the light of the evening sun.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“Oh, that is not as hard as you might think. When you did not return after a few days I suspected that you might have gone off in search of the young prince. I figure that curiosity of yours had gotten the best of you. And here you are,” smiled the man lifting his arms up as if inviting an embrace from his former spy.

“How very clever of you,” mocked Karr, keeping his distance.

“Now there. You sound bitter. Did you think that you were the only one with such skills?”

When the Stoner did not reply the old man continued, “So, tell me what you have learned?”

But the refugee from Stone City did not hear the question. His mind was mulling over other questions. Like what was the old man doing here in the western Asshur Mountains? He knew that the child would be brought here. By now all of the Land of Nod knew that the youngest son of King Crom was living with the Brotherhood of the Order of Medgag. It did not make sense for the old man to come all this way to retrieve information he already possessed. Why was he…?

Karr looked up into the jovial face of his old benefactor who was still talking though Karr was not listening to what he was saying. The smile invited friendship but the deep-set eyes were full of menace and danger. In a flash the Stoner understood. He looked around quickly at the ground. Seeing what he was searching for just a little ways down the tree line from where he had exited. Three, no, four sets of footprints in the new snow. There was the rustle in the bushes earlier. The old man had accomplices. He was talking with Karr to keep him here, distract him.

The old man was trying to get his attention but Karr did not pay him heed. He spun around and sprinted back into the trees. There was no need to pick up the tracks of the other men. He knew where they were going.

While running Karr considered the four men ahead of him. Once in the Sanctuary where would they go first? The sun was about to drop below the distant mountains. The members of the Order would be starting to gather in the dining hall for last meal. He glanced down at the footprints that had started to cover the prints he made previously when he walked down from the Mount. They were similar to his boot prints. They were akin to the imprint of any member of the Order. Just like the three mighty men, Karr had adapted the brown clothing of the Order. It was functional in the changing climates of the mountains and allowed him to blend in with the rest of the community. No doubt the four unknown men were wearing the same type of clothing.

He could hear nothing but the pounding of his heart, his heavy breathing and crunching of the snow under his feet. Twigs snapped and popped around his head. His arms churned in rhythm to the cadence of his feet. His chest hurt from the intake of cold air.

Rounding the library tower he entered the dining hall by way of the door off the tunnel entrance under the west section leading into the courtyard. He paused to catch his breath and gather himself. Reasoning that the four men would not know that he was aware of their presence he had the upper hand. The dining hall of the Order was a place of equality. There were no special tables set aside for the Gifted or guests. Diners sat wherever they wanted or could find seats and the food and drink were brought out by the dwellers who performed the kitchen tasks. With a quick scan he located Simon the scribe and Nephilim Herro seated at a table on the far side of the room with the prince in his specially made chair between them. Neemus and Hartgore were in the process of taking the seats across the table from them. The room was full of chatter and the sound of chairs and benches sliding in and out.

Movement on his shield hand side caught Karr’s attention. Two men walking side-by-side around the tables toward the far wall. Both men still had the hoods of their cloaks over their heads. The dining hall was warm, as it usually was even in the cold of the moons of the frozen mists, so the cloaks were unwarranted, not to mention the hoods. A glimpse to the wall on his sword hand side picked up two more hooded figures walking around the opposite way. They were going to try to attack from two directions. If he shouted a warning the room would be mass chaos and the disguised assassins might succeed and possibly escape.

He had a plan. It was not a good one but it was a plan. Following the route taken by the two men to his shield side he briskly and, he hoped, casually walked up behind the men. Two steps from the pair he drew the dagger from under his cape just as the men he was watching pulled something from their own clothing. The two would-be killers were almost close enough to strike.

“Assassins!” he screamed at the same moment he thrust the dagger into the back of the first man he reached. The attacker, taken by surprise, dropped his dagger.

Simon and Herro pivoted around rapidly enough to see the second man lunging at the prince with a knife in his hand. Simon made a half turn back toward the prince using his body to shield the boy from the blade. Herro grabbed for the dagger, though too late to prevent it from stabbing the scribe in the lower part of his back. Karr had pushed the dying man aside and swiped at the second attacker catching the side of his head with the weapon taking off part of his ear. The attacker stepped back stunned, never to recover. Herro had drawn his own dagger and rammed it into the attacker just under his ribcage piercing his heart.

When the Stoner had yelled Neemus and Hartgore, seeing the two hooded attackers, started to climb over the table. Unbeknown to them, they effectively cut off the line of attack the other two assassins were taking to the prince. The assailants stumbled over the two mighty men trying to stab at the boy in his chair. Realizing they were attacking the prince, Hartgore grabbed the man closest to him by the arm and swung him around. Pinning his foe’s arm behind his back, the muscular Nephilim put his burly forearm across the other’s forehead and jerked the head back while forcing the body forward. The intruder’s neck snapped. Neemus saw the blade in the other attacker’s hand coming around from behind him. He locked the arm under his sword arm and with his shield hand he snatched up a pitcher of water from the table, the first object he could get his hand on, thrusting it back into the assassin’s face. The pitcher shattered and the attacker screamed as clay fragments splintered into his eyes. The smaller Nephilim released his grip on the man, turned around and struck him with his open palm up under his nose sending the bone of the nose into the man’s brain. The attacker was dead before he hit the floor.

With the second assailant dead on the floor Herro turned in anger to Karr.

“You brought them here, did you not?” he shouted at the Stoner.

Karr was confused. He had just helped stop an attempt on the life of the prince but now he was being attacked. He knew that Herro mistrusted him tremendously however this was a bit much. “What are you talking about? I stopped them from killing the boy!”

“They would not have come if you had not shown them the way. Admit it. You…”

“That will suffice!” commanded Simon holding his bloody side with his sword hand.

The prince was crying and Neemus had climbed over the table to him comfort him.

“He led them here,” Herro said to Simon pointing at Karr.

Simon shook his head sadly. “Do not be absurd. Of course he did not.”

“Who else would have? His kind …he is a Stoner.”

“And you were once a thief.”

The scribe reached out his shield hand to Karr. The Stoner brought Simon’s arm around his shoulders and gently slipped his sword arm behind the scribe’s back. Together they walked to the quarters of Gifted Barton. He had studied the ways of the healers but his gender disqualified him from making claim to the title.

*******************

The old man remained where Karr had left him standing in front of the entrance to the cave watching the Sanctuary. He had seen the four assassins slip undetected into the compound. Moments later the Stoner came sprinting up the path and disappeared around the tower. He waited for some sign that his Dark Ones had completed their task but he had little hope of their success. Quietly he cursed his former spy.

“You do not belong here,” said a voice behind him. He did not need to turn around. He knew whose voice it was.

“I had to try. You should have known that I would,” he said still facing the Mount of Adoration.

“Your presence here is a violation.”

The old men swung around to see an elf standing behind him dressed in the same style clothing as a member of the Order only his garments were all white instead of brown. Under the hood was a brown face, dark hair and pointed ears.

“You and your kind amaze me. Have you not yet figured out that the laws of Creation do not interest me?”

Without speaking another word or waiting for a response from the elf, the old man walked off into the trees where he was swallowed up by the gray and white landscape.

*******************

Karr and Christophe sat on a fallen log below the Sanctuary with a book. The prince was reading. Further beyond Neemus labored with the feathers of an arrow. The Stoner had been charged by Simon with the youth’s daily reading lesson after which the hunter would instruct him in his archery lesson. Though in his seventh season, Christophe read the tongue of men better than many of the beginning scribes who came to the Mount and, as his teacher, Karr’s proficiency was constantly improving.

“I am Medgag, son of Heron, the least of all who serve The Most High. In my night prayers I had a vision. I recorded the things that I saw in my own hand that all might know what wondrous sights I beheld’” read the prince.

“I saw the King of All Kings standing on a field of battle, his enemies spread out before him. On his head he wore a crown unlike any worn of kings before him or after. His empty hands held the Sword of Kings that would crush the head of evil.”

“Though he was betrayed by the sons of man, yet did he take the wrath upon himself? The price of victory was the fall of the Prince of Peace and Master of Men. Condemned to the grave of kings, he would not stay. The heavens would see his glory and the ground would show his footprints.”

“Born to the line of princes, he would stand in the place of kings. His blood will cover the ground and drench the tree of life.”

“How beautiful were his wounds. So white was all that was covered in his blood.”

“When I awoke I felt his peace. For many days I was at complete rest with my soul.”

“Do you understand what Master Medgag saw?” the prince asked Karr as he gently touched the page from which he had just read.

For a moment Karr thought about the question. “I understand the words.”

“Yes, but Master Simon always says that words mean things. What does the ancient master want his words to mean?”

Usually Karr chose the reading material for the lessons but on occasion, such as today, Simon would hand him a book or parchment the scribe expected the Stoner to use. Reluctantly, he always had his student read what the brother gave him since it invariably invoked questions in the youth’s mind and many a question proved beyond the Stoner’s ability to answer. At least, in his own mind.

“He is writing about the coming of a Great King, one who would save his people from their enemies. But I must confess that I have difficulty grasping the true nature of the man,” replied Karr.

Christophe thought for a moment, and then he said, “I have heard some of the brothers say that I am that king. Do you think I am?”

Karr kept his gaze on the distant tree line. He could feel the stare of the youth. Finally, he had to look into the boy’s eyes, “I do not think I am one who can answer that, young one. Simon or, better still, Master Keron would be far more qualified. Anyway, Nephilim Neemus waits to instruct you on your archery.”

Closing the book, Christophe handed it to the Stoner and rose to join Neemus. “I do not want to be that king.”

“Then do not,” Karr blurted out before he could catch his tongue.

“Do you think, Karr, that destiny is so easily controlled?”

The boy did not wait for his response, and a good thing, too. The former spy had no idea what to say.