The Tale of Alar

5

The palace on the inside was a wonder to behold. Alar had heard of such places in stories, but never had he quite believed they could truly exist until now. From its polished floors to its magnificent staircases leading around the sides of the foyer to the upper story, and the massive chandelier dangling above, this place reeked of elegance and luxury. The wealthiest citizens of Telos could only ever dream of such lavish furnishings. And to think, there were a privileged few who woke up to this every day! The very idea made him feel incredibly small.

The guard captain ushered him through the chamber far too quickly for him to take in every exquisite detail.

“Hurry along, lad. The others are assembled in here.”

He opened the door to an antechamber where several other red squirrels who had managed to impress the guards at the gate had gathered. Among them, to his utter dread, was Grant.

How in hell’s name did he get through? he wondered.

“We now have our seventh champion, remarked the captain. “One more to go, and the king will be ready to see you all.”

With that, he left the room, allowing the other six champions to acquaint themselves with their latest party member. Grant was the first to speak.

“Weeeeell, will you look who it is,” he drawled. “Decided to join the party after all, did you?”

“Hello, Grant,” replied Alar, glad he had not been given the usual greeting of “Oy, faggot!”

“Would you two be knowin’ each other, then?” asked one squirrel about their age who carried a bow and a quiver full of arrows on his back.

“Aye, we’re from the same neighborhood,” replied Grant.

“Well, we should be glad to have yet another worthy squirrel in our midst,” spoke an ancient squirrel wearing a funny robe and carrying a long walking stick with an emerald at the top. “Come, sit by me, young one.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Alar as he seated himself beside the old fellow.

“Please, call me Elvar.”

“Pleased to meet you, Elvar.”

They shook paws, and another blade-bearing squirrel, the very one who had stood in front of him in line earlier, looked their way.

“Aah, you made it!” he spoke, extending his paw. “Thought you might. I am Colin.”

“I’m Alar.” He shook the proffered paw. It was rough and firm: the paw of a real warrior. And yet, his manners were genteel, as if he had lived among refined society for much of his life. Deadly yet polite, Alar mused. Was there any quality this squirrel didn’t possess?

“Pleased to have you along, Alar,” Colin continued. “You’ve the look of a real fighter about you.”

“I’ve seen one or two scraps in my day,” answered Alar modestly. Grant rolled his eyes.

“Come!” Colin continued. “Allow me to introduce you to the rest of our motley assembly.”

The assembly was indeed an odd one: Alar, Grant, Elvar, Colin, the archer whose name was Fagan, and a pair of handsome brothers named Brock and Burrus, armed with an axe and a spear respectively.

They chatted idly with one another about this and that for about half an hour before the door opened and in strode a short, shifty-eyed fellow with apparently untamable fur. Alar at first wondered why he was unarmed, but then he caught a glimpse of a dagger hilt under his cloak. The newcomer seemed a bit nervous to have so many eyes on him at once, though he managed to size up his companions quickly enough before nodding his approval.

“Afternoon, all,” he said. “Vitrio, at your service.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” spoke Elvar. “I take it you are from the Ondega Hills.”

“Might be.”

“Then you are most welcome, sir,” spoke Colin. “Squirrels from that region are said to be a hardy folk indeed.”

Vitrio relaxed a bit at the compliment. “Kernel of truth in every saying, I suppose.”

“Well, we’re glad to have someone of your…unique abilities with us.”

“I’m sure you are,” said the tight-lipped Vitrio.

Alar wasn’t sure what to make of their mysterious new companion. On the one paw, he did indeed look like a squirrel who was not to be trifled with, and it was clear how he had managed to get past the guards. On the other paw, there was something about his gaze and his evasiveness that unnerved the honest young buck. Was he the only one who felt this, he wondered as he looked around at his companions.

Either way, there was little time to learn more about Vitrio before the king’s personal attendant Jacob came to usher them into the king’s presence. They were forced to give up their weapons before entering the throne room, which most did without complaint (the main complainers being Grant and the brothers). They bowed to their sovereign, then stood to attention as he addressed them thus:

“Greetings, good warriors of this realm. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for answering my summons with such dispatch. That so few were chosen for this company does not lessen the hope I have of your ultimate success, for I know that you must be the very best the realm has to offer. Now, please allow me to explain why your arms are needed.”

And so, he told them of the circumstances surrounding his daughter’s kidnapping.

“When news first reached me, I was naturally filled with sorrow,” he concluded. “But that sorrow quickly turned to anger when my servant brought me this note that Magus had left.”

He held it aloft, then gave it to Jacob to read to the warriors.

“The nervy blighter!” exclaimed Burrus when he had finished.

“Indeed,” concurred Ambrose. “The only way to free my daughter is to go to the tower where he is holding her far away in the western marshlands. However, there are two other towers: one in the Founders’ Forest and one in the Century Mountains. These are his fortresses. The outposts guarding the borders of his realm, if you will. And each one holds the key to the next.”

“And who holds the key to the first, Your Majesty?” inquired Elvar.

“We do. Magus keeps a second set of the tower keys on his person at all times. He must have been in a great hurry, for to our great fortune, he dropped this one on the night he stole the princess. We should be in a terrible bind if he had not. By the tree inscribed on it, we guess that it must unlock the Forest Tower’s door.” He held it up. “I entrust it to you, my old friend and counselor.” He indicated Elvar.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. We will set out at first light tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow cannot come soon enough, then,” said Ambrose. “Among those who survive to free my daughter and bring her back to me, I will divide evenly half the wagons full of gold asked of me by Magus, and one of you will receive my blessing to take her paw in marriage, should she show you her favor. Skiouros be with you and good luck, my brave warriors! All of Kentros is depending on you.”

And with that, the audience ended. The eight bowed and were seen out by Jacob. They then parted ways to their various lodgings, agreeing to meet up out front of the main gate at dawn. As he was heading off, Alar was approached by Colin.

“So, where will you be staying tonight?”

“Oh. I’m at a place called the Golden Crown. It’s...livable.”

“Ahh, the Golden Crown.” Colin smiled. “As you say, it’s livable, but not much more.”

“It’s what I can afford,” Alar stated flatly.

“Indeed, we all have to live within our means. However...” He hesitated, as though not sure how to broach such a delicate subject. “It’s not my place, I suppose, but I could buy you a much nicer room in the tavern where I’m staying. It isn’t much, but it’s better than sleeping in the leaky quarters of that noisy little inn, I should think. Please don’t take it as an insult, but as a gesture of goodwill on the part of a brother-in-arms.”

Alar could not believe his luck! Such an offer from such a fine squirrel was not a thing to be lightly refused. So, he smiled and nodded sharply.

“I thank you. And I accept your offer.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Come! Let’s head on back now, and we can get to know one another better over a little supper, what do you say?”

“Lead the way, mate.”

Thus, the two swordsquirrels ambled off, chatting like old friends all the way.