The Children of Calm (5 page)

Selenor stirred restlessly in her crib. Penephoni went to her side and softly sang an old lullaby her mother had sung to her when she was a child. As the melody filled the room, Tresten’s eyes opened and gazed again into Penephoni’s eyes. Selenor had meanwhile fallen back asleep. Penephoni stopped singing and watched Tresten. Their eyes were locked and unblinking for awhile, until Tresten suddenly let out a soft “Huh,” and turned away.

Penephoni’s brow furrowed as she uncomfortably laughed. She could not shake the feeling there was an intelligent note of sarcastic mockery in his first vocal utterance.

Chapter Three:

Of Tauffles, Wooden Swords, and Roasted Corn

After several days had passed
and no significant events occurred that could cause any worry or panic, Penephoni fell back into her daily routine of caring for the children and providing medical care for the village. Tannen had left to return to his home in Arcenoth soon after the meeting and was not heard from again for quite awhile. Life in general was back to normal for all in Calm, which they took as a good thing. As long as there was not too much interference from The Outside, all was well.

Months went by and no word had come on the search for Lady Amilla, or how Lord Moltaer was coping with being the only known survivor of his family’s massacre. Caenar finally sent Faltir and Celek to Arcenoth to get some news. Penephoni could see he was getting anxious to know what was going on within the walls of the Imperial City of Maeon Plenneth. Two weeks later they returned with nothing of significance.

And so life went in Calm. Every other month Caenar sent Faltir and Celek to Arcenoth for news, and they would return two weeks later filling in the village with any facts and rumors that were circulating around Calabranda. But as time went on and nothing developed, Faltir and Celek stopped making their treks to Arcenoth.

Meanwhile the seasons changed and the children grew. Not a day went by where all four were not together for at least a couple of hours at a time. Eventually, once they were old enough to communicate with others, they were practically inseparable. Someone was always staying over at someone’s house or working on school lessons with another.

Selenor grew into a young woman of fair skin and light build, with long, straight black-as-night hair. She had developed a love early on for music and poetry, and often sang at village events. Her manner was lighthearted and elegant, full of compassion and grace, though at times she exhibited a mischevious side. From early on she exhibited strong signs of dependency and timidity, usually simply following the other three along on their adventures. “A princess among royalty,” was how Kelni described her.

Tresten, Penephoni discovered later, was neither deaf nor mute, though he was slow in his speech development. He was fair of skin, like his sister, thin of body and dark in hair. Unlike his sister, the color of his hair seemed to affect his mood, as he was quiet and pensive. However, when he was alone with any or all of the other three he could be quite the talker. Growing up he was often physically ill and spent much time in bed where he developed a deep love for books. There was a hunger in his eyes to know and understand things, such that he had a seemingly insatiable appetite for knowledge. And though Tresten was rarely heard to laugh, he was as true as steel. Not exactly subtle, and somewhat socially awkward, he came across as severe and even cruel to those who did not know him. Those who did know him knew he possessed a biting sense of humor. “Intelligent and hard as nails,” Kelni said of him.

Lana was the mirror image of Clarina. Her deep red hair was long, full, and wavy, and her light blue eyes were large and soft. She took on a motherly role with the other three, which amused Penephoni and Clarina. Because of her often flighty behavior, she was often the butt of Tresten’s back-handed humor. Eventually she caught up to his wit, and the two thrived on pestering and teasing each other. If one wanted to find her, she was either in the kitchen or not far outside Calm, walking around the perimeter of the lake. “Passionate and full of life,” Kelni said of her.

Rylek, on the other hand, grew into the mirror image of Faltir: strong, handsome, and winsome. He, too, loved the outdoors; he relished dawn and dusk, along with the feel of the mountain winds on his face. His hair was a reddish-auburn mix, and his ever-present smile hinted at mischief. Proud and yet selfless, quick to listen and thoughtful, he was a born leader. “One who could do anything he set his mind to,” was what Kelni said of him.

***

So it was, nearly fifteen years later, Rylek found himself one fine winter day atop a western plateau nicknamed The Balcony because it overlooked the valley hiding Calm. The sun was high and warm, the air was crisp and light, and Rylek was standing right on the edge of the great cliff, looking out on his home. It had been an unusually warm winter with little snow. In fact the only snow to be seen at the moment was on the highest peaks of the surrounding mountains. Some trees had actually begun to prematurely bloom.
Thankfully
, Rylek thought to himself,
it’s still too early for all the bugs
.

His eyes swept over all he saw in a grand panoramic way. The view held him in an enamored state, especially with the sun just behind so it was not glaring in his eyes. Calm was far enough away so he could not hear any noises that were being made there. The buildings of mostly light gray stone and dark wooden frames looked so small and pristine from this height. The Public Hall sat squarely in the middle, its roof rising above the surrounding buildings. To his right, towards the edge of town, was the Hall of Knowledge. It also dwarfed the houses and shops that surrounded it. Several chimneys were issuing forth homey smoke columns, hinting of cozy lazy days in front of a fire. The village’s windmill was the tallest building, set on the closest side of the lake to Rylek. Slowly but steadily its blades turned in the mountain wind, a subtle but dependable note of motion that helped to breathe a quiet life into Calm.

Rylek never grew tired of the scene. Here he could keep his eyes on his little home in a watchful way, making sure everything was safe. If anyone came over Solemn Pass (which was straight in front of him, across from the village) to enter Calm, he would be the first to see it. To the right of the village (or south) was Lake Calm, its surface mirroring the deep blue sky and the purple-brown-gray of the mountains. The lake was surrounded by an old forest, filled with evergreen, maple, poplar, elm, and peppernut trees that brought a most invigorating blend of fragrances across the lake when the wind blew that way. He saw someone out on the water in a little canoe, probably doing a little fishing. On the left of the village (or north) was a tremendously large open field with slow rolling hills where crops and livestock were raised. All of this sat in a bowl whose rim was the mountains.

No matter how many times Rylek stood on The Balcony, he never grew tired of the view. This was his home, and he had vowed to himself time beyond measure he would do all he could to keep it safe. Perhaps this was why he frequented this spot so often: to memorize every tree, every rock so as to know when something was out of place and possibly dangerous; to know the way the sunlight, moonlight, and village lights reflected off the surface of Lake Calm. It was a beauty that inspired devotion, and willed one to fight for the honor of protecting purity. In his own eyes he was the village’s Silent Knight.

Smiling profusely with the idea of his secret occupation, and after inhaling the sweet mountain air one final time, he turned away from the cliff to return to the village. Supper would be soon, but first he had promised Selenor he would sit with the village’s children while she told them a story. After climbing down the path, he passed the village cemetery on his left, went right for a couple of blocks, then left again, until he found himself at the Old Sentinel, the giant oak tree on the lakefront. Standing there was Selenor surrounded by the usual suspects: ten children eight years old and younger. She was leading them in a song as they were getting settled in story-time position. Rylek caught Selenor’s eye and they smiled at each other as he walked up behind the group of children. While everyone was singing about purple pufulos, Rylek decided to do a quick headcount to see who had decided to come out today.
Let’s see
, he thought to himself,
there’s Shyler, Mendinger, Bowyn, Tolli, Col, Cerwen, Dalten, Lenae, Von…and little Wyli.

“Where’s Keiten?” Rylek asked as the song finished. At the sound of his voice, the children turned around and joyously proceeded to tackle him. It was the same everyday.

“He’s sick again,” Selenor called out over the shouting children, unable to stop herself from laughing at the sight of the giant heap of little ones atop a teenager. “Mom was taking a look at him earlier.”

Rylek shook his head. “Again? He manages to catch everything, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. I worry about him.”

“Remember, Tresten used to be sick a lot, too,” Rylek mused. “He turned out okay, I guess.”

Selenor laughed. “That’s open for debate.”

Rylek decided to end the children’s game. He firmly, but gently, stood up and most of the children fell onto the grass. A couple of the bigger ones were still clinging to his legs. “Well, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he said. “Maybe Tresten can encourage him with his own tales of illnesses.”

“Probably just what he wants to hear.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay everybody, let’s settle back down.”

Her words fell on deaf ears as the children continued their game. Rylek allowed himself to fall onto the grass again under the weight of the children. Selenor smiled as she sighed and crossed her arms. “Rylek, can you please help me here?”

After a couple of minutes everyone was sitting on the grass. Lenae and Wyli were sitting in Rylek’s lap and the rest of the kids were sitting as close to him as they could. They all faced Selenor, who sat with her back against the trunk of the Old Sentinel.

“Today we continue our story with Treina the Tauffle,” Selenor began, which prompted many happy exclamations from the children. “Far from here, over the hills of the Forgotten Plains, past the peaks of the Terminal Mountains, lies the Forest of Contrary Light. Now this Forest is unlike any other forest in the entire world, for in it grow the Flarefruit Trees. What makes the Flarefruit so peculiar is the fact that its juice gives off light contrary to the light of our own sun. It turns red into green, yellow into violet, black to white, and white to black. And here in this magical Forest lives a group of little people named the Tauffles.

“The Tauffles look very different from you and from me. They grow no taller than two apples’ height, and are no heavier than a newborn kitten. What make them so peculiar to look at, though, are their wings. For Tauffles have two little pairs of wings: one pair is on their feet, and the other pair is on their head…”

Selenor’s hands went to the sides of her head and fluttered them like wings. The children laughed as Rylek sighed contentedly. Tresten had thought Rylek was a bit soft to always want to sit with the children while Selenor entertained them. But Rylek did not care. Any excuse he could find to spend time with Selenor was well worth any teasing Tresten dished out. And as the children hung on every word Selenor spoke about the misadventures of Treina the Tauffle, Rylek found himself hanging on every little glance she gave him.

***

After the story was over and the children had been seen to their homes, Rylek went to his own home for supper. As he was going up the front steps, Tresten came around the corner.

“There you are,” Tresten said. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Rylek saw Tresten was carrying his wooden training sword; he knew where this was going. “Come on, Tresten, I’m starved,” he said. “Let me grab some food first.”

“No no,” Tresten said forcefully. “I’ve been waiting quite awhile for you to show up. I suppose you were down with the kids again for Selenor’s storytelling, weren’t you?”

“Maybe I was,” Rylek said. “Did you know Keiten is sick again?”

Tresten grew serious. “No. What is it this time?”

“No idea.”

“Maybe I’ll go check on him tomorrow,” Tresten said softly. “He’s probably sleeping right now.”

“You could go check now while I grab a bite to eat,” Rylek said as he opened the front door.

“I’ll go tomorrow,” Tresten said. “Or maybe later tonight. But now that I think about it, maybe you
should
go ahead and eat. By the time you’re done digesting, it will be dark in the field. And possibly overcast too. We shall truly earn our cuts and bruises. I was hoping to spend all night being bandaged up by my mother anyway, so this works out perfectly…”

Rylek sighed. “Sometimes you really do go on. Shut up already so I can go get my sword.”

As he walked into the house, the mouth-watering smell of roasted corn met his nose. He sighed again and walked towards his room. Lana was in the kitchen, busying herself with some vegetables.

“It’ll be ready in just a few minutes!” she called out.

“Tresten is calling, and you know what that means,” Rylek said.

“Yeah, that you’ll come home sore and your food will be cold.”

Rylek smiled; he loved his sister. He grabbed his training sword out of his room, and walked back towards the front door. “Where’s mom and dad?” he asked.

“Mom’s at Aunt Penni’s, helping her with something or other, and dad’s at some meeting with Elder Caenar.”

“Sounds about normal. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Lana laughed. “I’ll try my best to keep it warm for you.”

Rylek opened the front door, smiling. “Thanks, sis,” he said, then stepped out to meet Tresten who was standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning on his wooden sword. “I would like you to know that I’m missing fresh roasted corn for you,” Rylek said to him.