Aphrodite's Acolyte (2 page)

Fidel entered the house first and glanced around. He scanned this place he called home for the past twenty-five years. Book shelves lined every wall, filled with books of spells and the history of Harlow's Hovel. A fireplace was centered in the middle of the living room wall, a fire already burning and emitting a soft glow. The house extended back to a kitchen with a hearth. Off to the right, a long hallway extended, also lined with numerous book shelves, and leading to the three bedrooms. It was a fairly large house for the town of Harlow's Hovel, but one would expect no less for the Archmage of Harlow's Hovel, Methvas Aranongo. Methvas entered behind Fidel, shutting the door with a thud. Fidel turned and faced Methvas.

            “We left my walking stick out there near the keep,” Fidel said.

Methvas smiled. “Hmm. I guess we did. Looks like we will have to make you a new one.”

Fidel thought for a second, a sly grin crossed his lips. “Or I can go retrieve it.”

Methvas placed his hands on Fidel's shoulders. “In your current state of confusion? No, I do not think that would be an intelligent decision. Let us make another. While your current stick was comforting, I am thinking it is time you get a new one. A better one.” Methvas smiled at his son, showing he already had a few ideas about a new staff for Fidel. “Let us dine and I will inform you of all I know about Yardana and what happened here today.”

Fidel and Methvas strolled to the kitchen where a pleasant smelling stew awaited in the cooking pot. They each scooped a large helping into their respective bowls and took opposite seats at the table. Fidel looked up from his stew and took notice of the age on his father. The years have been kind to the old man. Methvas was a man in his late-fifties yet had a boundless energy about him. His brown eyes radiated a glow further emphasized by his bright red hair.

“This is the situation regarding Yardana,” Methvas started the conversation. “Her father abuses her in despicable ways. Ways that are not conducive to the raising of a fair maiden in this world. Ways our king does not approve of. So I took it upon myself to convince Lord Ias to intervene.” Fidel swallowed hard as he dissected his father's confession. “See Fidel, Yardana Frostclear was not abducted by a vicious lord. She was not pulled from the hands of her caring family as a damsel in distress. We rescued her from a violent and evil beast of a man.” Fidel dropped his spoon in his stew and sat up straight.

“But Father, do we not have laws that protect our children from such cretins?” 

“Unfortunately Fidel, we do not. Children are the property of their parents until released from such bonds. The rate of abuse being inflicted on Yardana was to such a concern that she would not see her fourteenth birthday. I desired to stop the abuse by any means I could.”

Fidel interjected. “But I saw no signs of abuse. She was always healthy. Not one lump or bruise or blackened eye was ever evident on her as long as I have known her.”

Methvas stood and glared harshly into Fidel's eyes from across the table. His face turned stern, almost bordering on rage as if some demon inside was trying to scratch through his face. “It was not that kind of abuse! It was unspeakable and Yardana confessed to me in absolute confidence!” Methvas sat back down, remembering that Fidel was not the assailant, not the criminal.

“I am very invested in this situation.” Methvas' facial features showed his sadness at the very thought of the dilemma and personal turmoil Yardana must have endured before his involvement. “How about this Fidel, I will arrange a meeting for you with Yardana. If she feels you are worthy of her confidence, then you can hear the story straight from her. Until then, you will need to trust me and my involvement in the issue. On top of that, I will arrange a meeting between you and Lord Ias. He will be very interested in ensuring the safety of his so-called prisoner by speaking with her would-be rescuer.”

Fidel chuckled at his father's play on words and his uncanny ability to put situations into the audience's perspective. Methvas also shared a smile as he realized the same. What else would be expected from one of the lord's advisors? An impeccable ability to stay diplomatic in any situation was, after all, one of the key components to an advisor's success in the kingdom.

Fidel and Methvas continued eating, each bite becoming a little easier as their truce in the matter took hold in each others mind. They both knew and trusted the other sitting at the table, understanding neither will move to oppose the other further in the matter. Fidel had complete confidence in his father's ability to obtain a meeting for him. Methvas had total faith in his son's ability to resist the urge to charge into battle now that the situation had been explained.

The sound of the front door slammed shut and broke the silence. Both Father and Son glanced toward the front door to see a blue-eyed and red-haired woman stomping her feet. Globs of mud fell from her shoes with every stomp.

“How are my favorite men doing this fine evening?” came the sweet voice. “I hope you saved me some of that fine stew. Nothing is better than a hot bowl of stew on an evening such as this.” She made her way to the kitchen where Methvas was already standing as he prepared a bowl for his wife. She sat down at the table as Methvas placed the bowl of stew before her.

Shar smiled to Methvas and thanked him. She turned her attention to her son. "So, Fidel, there's a rumor you were running through the center of town today in a huff after Yardana's incident. Care to talk about it?”

Fidel looked at his mother and smiled. “Well, I got upset. Father calmed me down. And I lost my walking stick. That about covers it.”

Fidel's mother, Shartivus Aranongo, or Shar for short, looked over her son and rubbed his hair. “Looks like you're in one piece! Sounds like everybody did their jobs well today!” She offered a smirk to Fidel.

Methvas chimed in. “So how was your day, Dear? Anything fascinating and exciting happen at the shop today?”

Shar glanced over at Methvas. “Nothing really out of the normal. I did get a visitor from Puldechra,” she paused and glanced at Fidel. “He said he traveled through the desert in search of rarities. Regrettably, he had to witness the spectacle of Yardana's ordeal and left without purchasing anything. Which was very unfortunate as I think I could have made quite a few coins off him.”

It was Fidel's turn to continue the conversation. “I have heard the name Puldechra before, and your look at me when you mentioned the name has me wondering. What significance should this name carry with me?” Fidel looked to his mother as she took another bite of her stew. Methvas looked at Shar as well with a little concern in his eyes, not looking forward to the response she was about to provide, but knowing it was time to have this conversation.

Shar looked down at the table for a moment to consider her words before replying. “Well, Son, Puldechra is where you were born. It is the city where your life started over eighty years ago. You spent your first seven years in that city until your parents decided to...” she paused for a second trying to find the right words to describe his birth parents intentions. She began again. “It's the city you belonged to before your parents decided to send you on a lifelong learning mission amongst us humans. And now you are three days past due on your twenty-five years with us as your teachers.”

Fidel took the news stoically, at first. After his first two sets of parents, he figured out there was a pattern to his steady orphaning. Shar and Methvas both took another spoonful of their meal.

“So now it is time for you to push me away then?” Fidel said, with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Have you already chosen a new set of teachers for me? Are they a fine couple?”

Shar raised her palm to Fidel as she noticed his agitation growing. “No Son, now is the time we release you into the world to do as you feel fit. You have been a great student and child, even if you have been older than us the whole time. You have made us proud and your birth parent's wishes for you have been fulfilled.”

Fidel looked at his mother with confusion. Shar stared back, returning a look of awareness, “Ah, so every parent you have had over the past seventy plus years have kept the secret details from you? I'm impressed. Secrets are hard to keep.” Shar rose from the table. “Give me a few minutes to collect the scroll your birth parents created for you. It is time for you to read their words and decide what destiny you would like to pursue.” Shar left the room to collect the scroll.

Fidel looked at Methvas. He noticed a hint of moisture in his father's eyes, an oddity in his father's often tough facade. “What is wrong, Father? Do you not wish me to know my heritage?”

Methvas stared back and cleared his throat. “Not at all Son. I fear the end of this road. I do not want to lose you. But I know that is selfish of me. I have grown to love you with all my heart.” A clanking sound could be heard as Methvas dropped his spoon in his empty bowl. “Today is eventful for you. I hope you do not act rash and you take all into account. I will honor our previous arrangement with regards to Lord Ias and Yardana, despite what happens.” Methvas walked to the kitchen window and looked outside. “That reminds me, I must head out to the keep soon. Please promise me that you will honor your part of the agreement and meet with Yardana and Lord Ias tomorrow.”

Fidel sat back in his chair for a moment. He contemplated the meaning of Methvas' words, then leaned forward and rose up. “Father, I have already given you my word and I promise to keep it. No matter what words my birth parents have scribed for me, I will remain in Harlow's Hovel until at least dusk tomorrow.” Methvas nodded and a small smile crossed his lips as he collected the dishes from the evening meal.

Shar returned to the room with a scroll. Fidel noticed the end caps and seal were still intact. “Here's the scroll I spoke of. We will leave you be for a little while to read it.” Shar motioned to Methvas and they both left the house, leaving Fidel alone with the scroll and his thoughts. Fidel looked at the scroll and turned it over in his hand. He pulled the two caps off and broke the seal. He was anxious as he unrolled the three-quarter century old parchment out in front of him.

Our Dearest Fidel,

If you are reading this, seventy-five years have passed since we said our farewell to you. On your seventh birthday, your mother and I made one of the toughest decisions of our lives. We decided your destiny should vary from most of our kind. We wanted you to grow fast and strong, unlike our kind who choose to take things slow and steady. We wanted more for you. We placed you in the care of humans, with the caveat that you could not remain with any single human for more than twenty-five years. We hope the humans, with their short lifespans driving their impatience and passion, would be able to teach you more in a much faster time than the elven people could have taught you in five centuries.

We love you Fidel. We hope you return to us as soon as you are able. We will be anxiously awaiting your return. When you arrive in the city of Puldechra, look for the house with a window lined completely in candles. You will know that is our home. Do not delay in knocking, no matter what time you may arrive.

                                                                      With Our Deepest Love,

                                                                      Grelin and Asante Fidel

Fidel lifted his head and stared straight ahead, his eyes brimming lightly with tears by the meaning of the note. He rolled up the scroll and re-attached the caps. He moved toward the settle couch in the family room and sat down, placing the scroll on the table before him. He leaned back in the settle, his long black hair dangling over the hardwood backing. He closed his eyes and relaxed. Time seemed to stand still as he traversed the depths of his mind. He hoped that a long forgotten memory of his birth parents would arise.

Memories returned to Fidel, none of Puldechra though. First entered the memory of his first set of human parents, a huge blue-eyed male blacksmith and a brown-eyed female shopkeeper. Then came the second set of parents, his father was a brown-eyed farmer with his mother being a green-eyed and blond-haired thief. Then came the memory of the red-haired wizard and his shopkeeper wife, Methvas and Shar.

One memory of so long ago did return, not of his birth parents though. The memory filled his mind of leaving a forest with lights that gleamed all over. The forest faded away as carriage wheels made grinding sounds, trekking toward the horizon. He remembered the voice of a woman, his first human mother, Atina Zemerus, as she promised riches of knowledge and wealth.

About an hour later, the front door thudded shut, and tore Fidel from his contemplation. Shar entered the house, pounding her boots clear of the dirt from the road. Fidel opened his eyes and looked at his mother. “Where's Father?”

“He had to join Lord Ias at the keep." Shar noticed the scroll, neatly placed on the table with the seal broken. She hung up her light coat and walked over to sit on the couch with her son. “How are you feeling, Son?”

"I'm torn between the excitement of meeting my birth parents and the guilt of abandoning the people who have cared for me for so long. What would you do, Mother?"

Shar took hold of Fidel's hand and peered into his deep green eyes. “I would do what my heart told me to do. Your father would tell you to listen to your mind. I am telling you to listen to your heart. What is the strongest desire? Follow that which pulls the hardest.”

Fidel took his mother's words under consideration and nodded his head at her advice. Shar stood up and tossed another log in the fireplace, poking at the remaining embers to spark the flames to life. They both sat there for a few hours watching the fire crackle and pop. Neither of them said a word. Both of them recalled the past years of their meaningful lives together as the fire danced before them.

The front door creaked open when Methvas returned home. He hung up his coat and stomped his boots, then glanced at his wife and child as they sat on the settle couch peacefully. He sat down on the other side of Fidel and took in the serenity of the crackling fire.

“I have made the arrangements,” Methvas said to Fidel. Fidel nodded. “So, Fidel, have you decided what course of action you will be taking?”

Fidel sat up straight, and rose from the settle. He stood tall in front of his mother and father to announce his decision. “I will be leaving after my meeting with Lord Ias. My heart tells me to seek out my heritage and learn what I have not learned over the past seventy-five years amongst the humans. This does not mean I do not love you. You have been my parents for years and my love for you will not diminish.”

Methvas smiled wide with pride at his son taking a stance. “Son, we know you will love us even after we are gone from this mortal coil. We will love you as long as well.” Methvas stood up and opened his arms in a wide semi-circle, inviting a hug from his son. Shar rose up as well, her eyes brimmed with tears. The three embraced in a family hug in the middle of the living room.

After a few long breaths, the family slowly pulled apart and stared at each other. Each one in the room felt a loss with Fidel's announcement. Yet, each one was full of pride with Fidel's decision to pursue the truth of his existence. Many moments passed. The family finally agreed it was time for bed as the following day would be a long one. Fidel put out the fire and the sorrow-filled  family walked slowly to their respectful rooms for a restless night's sleep.