The Tale of Alar

6

Alar slept soundly that night despite his excitement. It had been a long journey to the capital, and as he knew only too well, he had an even longer journey ahead. But at least this one would be in the company of other squirrels: good, solid warriors the lot. Just his type. Except for Grant, of course. He rather dreaded having to share his company for such an extensive period. It was all he could do at times to hold his temper after a few minutes with that squirrel, never mind days or weeks. He had been surprisingly well behaved the day before, but there was no reason to believe he would remain that way on the road.

Whatever the case, there was no point in lounging about any longer. So, he rose, stretched a bit, and got dressed. He then grabbed his things and made for the front end of the tavern, where he found Colin already taking breakfast

“What ho, Alar! Sleep well, did you?”

“Very, thanks to you.”

“Nonsense. We’re part of a fellowship now. We’ve all got to look after one another if we’re to see this thing through to the end. Here, take some breakfast, and we’ll be on our way to meet up with the others.”

So, Alar got a plate and ate alongside Colin as they continued discussing their past.

“That’s a nice blade you’ve got there,” remarked Colin at one point.

“Thanks,” replied Alar, tapping the hilt. “It’s been in the family for generations.”

“Ancestral, eh? An honorable tradition, to be sure. But there’s nothing like a sword made to fit your paw, you know?”

“To each his own, sir.”

“How very true.” Colin chuckled. “But you needn’t call me sir, Alar. I’m not that old. My name is Colin, and I’m not averse to its use, especially by a friend.”

“Sorry. Force of habit, I suppose. Back home, I was used to calling just about everyone sir.”

“I understand. And in some circles, formalities like that are highly prized. However, such things are wasted on me, I’m afraid. Never was one for titles. Any squirrel who can make his way through life through honest work and heartfelt prayer has earned my respect, for what that’s worth, regardless of what name he may bear.”

Alar said nothing, but nodded approvingly at this humble remark. The more time he spent with Colin, the more he admired him. With someone of such solid character in the company, the journey was sure to be at least a little bit easier, Grant or no Grant.

When they had finished eating, they made for the assembly point, where they found four of the others already waiting, including Grant. He did not say anything in greeting to the two, but Alar did not like his smirk either. What had he been telling the others about him, he wondered.

“That just leaves the battle-hungry brothers,” remarked Colin.

Within another minute, Burrus and Brock came striding up, confident and leisurely as could be.

“What took you so long?” asked Vitrio with minor annoyance.

“Had to have our beauty sleep, you know,” remarked Burrus.

“Might I ask why we’re not bringin’ any horses to ride?” asked the young bowsquirrel, Fagan. “Mightn’t the journey be cut in half if we had some?”

“It might indeed, young sir,” replied Elvar. “But the country into which we venture will not always be suitable to hooves. And as ours is partly a mission of stealth, eight squirrels on foot will attract less attention than would eight on horseback.” As no one had any good counterarguments, he continued:

“Right! Now we’re all assembled, shall we be moving on?”

So, move on they did. They left the city via a side gate so as to draw fewer eyes, but a small crowd of well-wishers had nevertheless gathered to give them a hero’s sendoff. Alar was at once thrilled and embarrassed to receive such attention and have flower petals cast at his feet, but it signaled to him that this was no longer a mere fantasy or dream. This was real. He was truly setting out on a quest to save the princess and his kingdom in the company of the greatest warriors in all the land. His heartbeat quickened as they passed through the gate into the open country beyond. It was even more exciting than when he had set out on his own from Telos. For while before he had been free to go where he desired, now he was bound for one destination only, from which he would either return victorious or not at all.

At first they followed the road westward through more farm fields and orchards. The open meadows in between with their fragrant flowers and lush green grass made every squirrel light-hearted to some degree. But it was also a bit sobering, when they thought about what all was at stake should they fail. Not only the princess, but also this wonderful, bountiful land they called their own would fall beneath the sway of the tyrant. No longer would there be afternoon frolics in fields of clover, nor merry harvest festivals when the fruits of a year’s labor could be gathered in and enjoyed by young and old alike. Nay, in all likelihood Magus would transform the kingdom into a wasteland, as barren and bereft of life as the deserts of the legendary northern lands. Or if he did keep the land fertile, it would be only to feed himself and his followers, the survivors of his terrible onslaught being made into slaves who would reap the harvest not for themselves, but for their despotic masters.

The very thought of such a travesty falling upon his beautiful homeland made Alar’s blood boil. He would not let that happen. Whatever may happen to him, he could not let his friends and neighbors, his dear adoptive father or the buck he loved fall to such baseness.

They journeyed on past the fields and into the outer fringes of the Founders’ Forest. Here they felt perhaps even more at ease than before. For this forest was said to be the birthplace of all squirrelkind. Long before they had learned to stand and walk upright, to sow crops in fields, or to make great buildings, squirrels had lived as small creatures in trees like these, scampering about and foraging for their sustenance. It was a special place for all squirrels: a sacred place. And they had come to rid it of an abominable evil festering within its very heart.

They stopped around sunset to make their camp. As they were nibbling on their rations, Fagan turned to the brothers.

“So what is it brings you two on this quest?” he asked. “Besides the reward, I mean.”

The two exchanged glances before Brock answered, “Does one need another reason? A rich reward and fame besides. What’s not to go for?”

“Not to mention, the princess is said to be as fair as the sky is blue,” said Burrus.

“What’s yours, then, archer?” asked Brock.

“The same, really,” replied Fagan. “Me family and I could use the treasure, what with our farm fallen on hard times. But of course, I wouldn’t object to havin’ the fine princess for meself either.”

“Now wait just a minute, mate...” Burrus objected. “What makes you think she’ll have you, then?”

“Well, I’m not one to brag, but it’s a simple fact that we bow-shootin’ types are far better at keepin’ our looks intact.”

“Ha! You’re all fools if she’s your intended prize,” interjected Vitrio. “Does are all trouble. I’d be happy with the gold.”

“Spoken like one who’s had trouble getting attention from any,” remarked Brock with a grin.

Vitrio merely shook his head pityingly. “I’ve had more does than you’ve had years on this earth, mate. The problems start when you get more deeply involved with ‘em.”

“Is that why you had to leave your homeland?” pressed Burrus.

The venomous look that flashed in Vitrio’s eyes suggested the remark hit closer to home than intended, but before anyone could press the issue further, Colin chimed in.

“No need to pry, lads. Besides, Vitrio’s right about one thing, I think. It’s foolish to believe you’ve even half a chance of winning the princess’s paw with me along.”

Alar and Elvar had a good chuckle, causing the flustered Burrus to turn to them.

“What’s your angle then, Alar?”

“Just the money for me.”

“Really?” spoke Colin. “You didn’t strike me as the mercenary type.”

“It’s not that. It’s just that I’m...I’ve made other commitments.”

“I see. Saving up to make a proposal to your damsel, then?” Colin gave him a nudge and a wink.

“Something like that,” replied Alar with a nervous smile. He hoped they didn’t pry further. But Grant, wearing his favorite smirk, would not let matters lie there.

“Fair damsel, is it? Go on. Tell us about her. What’s she like, this damsel of yours?”

“I think you know well enough,” replied Alar with a warning look.

“Aye, that I do. But I want to hear it from your lips.”

“Go on, Alar. Tell us,” prompted Brock, unwittingly digging his hole deeper. “Is she a real beauty?”

“I...I can’t say.”

“Ha! Won’t say, you mean.”

“Shut up, Grant,” Alar gritted between his teeth, keeping his voice as calm as he could.

“Now now, lads, simmer down,” said Colin. But Grant would not be denied his fun.

“Aye, she’s a real beauty, all right,” he said. “Or at least, as great a beauty as a he can be.”

At this, even Colin seemed taken aback, looking Alar up and down, but saying naught.

“He?” repeated Brock with genuine bewilderment. “You mean you’re a queer, Alar?”

Alar’s eyes flashed deadly fury at Grant, who still sat there smirking, as though the revelation was some sort of glorious triumph over his long-time foe. The young squirrel reached instinctively for his sword hilt in his burning anger, and might have done something extremely rash had Colin’s voice not dispersed the poisonous air between him and Grant.

“We need not trouble over such matters, Brock. What Alar’s preferences are is none of our concern. I think his motives are noble, regardless of where his heart lies.”

“I quite agree,” Fagan piped up, trying to get the conversation back on track. “What about you, Elvar? What’s your motivation?”

“My interest is neither monetary nor romantic. I’ve a much more...personal reason, shall we say?”

And there they left it, having learned by now that there was no getting answers out of Elvar when he wanted to be elusive.

But that did not stop Colin from asking a different question.

“I’ve been wondering, Elvar, they said that Magus would wait two months before performing his spell. But why wait so long? Why even give King Ambrose a chance to send a force like ours after him?”

“Some magic requires certain conditions to perform,” answered Elvar. “The spell he intends to cast upon the princess is a very powerful one, even for a very powerful mage. It is more of a ritual, in fact. And mages, especially dark ones, are able to draw some energy from the cycles of the moon. I imagine what Magus intends to do is charge his strength for the first cycle, then perform the ritual on the last night of the second.”

“And what would that entail?” asked Brock.

“I daren’t ponder what evil schemes run through such a depraved mind. But rest assured, should he be left alone to perform his rites, he will indeed turn the princess into a terrible monster, one through which he will be able to destroy all he lays eyes upon. That is why we must succeed.”

“I see,” said Colin, and they all went silent for a moment.

“Well, I’m for turning in,” said Burrus after a bit. “Naught like an early night’s rest for an early morning’s start. And if what you say is true, every second counts.”

Vitrio snorted. “Like you two’d know anything about early starts.”

“I quite agree with Burrus,” spoke Colin, cutting short any further arguments for the night. “I bid you all a good night and a good sleep.”

“I shall remain awake and keep watch,” said Elvar. “The rest of you sleep well.”

When once Elvar had spoken, there was nothing more to say. The others each bade the rest a good night in their own fashion and they all bedded down. Only Elvar remained upright, watching, listening, and thinking. He stared sometimes off into the trees; sometimes into the fire. But wherever his gaze might have rested, it was clear that his mind was in a place long ago and far away.

The next morning, Alar awoke to find half the party asleep, including Elvar, and two others sitting up cooking breakfast.

“Where’s Colin got to?” he asked.

“Gone to fetch some water and look around,” replied Fagan. “Care for some barley bread?”

“Not just now, thanks. I’ll wait ‘til the others are awake.”

So, Alar rose and stretched, then decided that he too would take a look around. He strode through the trees, eyes roving about over the magnificent wilderness. How incredibly different this world was from the crowded, dirty city he had grown up in. He had long dreamt of a home in the country for Adam and himself, and his experience of the outside world made that dream all the more desirable. To not have to go back to that horrible place ever again...He could scarcely imagine!

He soon came to a place where the earth sloped downward, and he knew from the damp scent that he was approaching water. He parted some bushes to find a small lake with a surface calm and clear. Much to his surprise, he found Colin as well: swimming and splashing about some way out. He was debating whether to hail him or back slowly away when Colin spotted him and stood up. The water at its deepest point came up to his shoulders.

“Good morning, Alar!” he hailed. “Care to join me for a swim?”

“Good morning, Colin! I suppose I will.”

So, he quickly stripped and hopped into the water. He promptly demonstrated his aquatic skill by remaining under the water until he was right beside Colin, then broke the surface with a tremendous splash and shook the water from his eyes. Colin took it in stoically and nodded.

“Powerful swimmer to go all that way with the weight of your tail dragging like that.”

“I’ve been a swimmer all my life.”

Colin raised his eyebrows slightly. “A smithy and a swimmer, eh? You are accomplished indeed.”

Alar could not help but feel the comment was just a tad sarcastic, though the look in Colin’s eyes bespoke only sincerity. The older squirrel looked away as he continued:

“You know, there are some squirrels who dwell along the coast who actually shave the fur from their tails so they can move more swiftly in the water.”

Alar lifted his own waterlogged tail and examined it a little. It was not the most beautiful tail out there by far, but it was his, and he could scarcely imagine mutilating it like that. He pulled it a little closer.

“I think I’d rather keep mine as it is, thanks.”

Colin chuckled lightly. “Can’t say I blame you. But those squirrels do have the right idea in one sense, at least. There’s nothing like a good swim in clean, cool water to get the day started right.”

“Aye. Me and Adam always liked going swimming in the morning when we were small. Nowadays we mostly go in the evenings when we have free time.”

“Well, whatever works, I suppose,” spoke Colin distractedly. “Tell me about this Adam of yours. What’s he like?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Colin shrugged. “Just curiosity, I suppose. Though, you needn’t answer if you don’t want to. I’ll understand.”

“No, it’s all right. I don’t mind.”

And so, he told his friend about Adam as they finished washing up and waded ashore. He told of how they had met at the swimming hole as tiny kits barely able to walk, though Adam was actually a couple years older, and how their friendship had developed into something more in recent years. He even told of their dream to have a country estate all to themselves one day after his return.

“That’s why I need the treasure,” he said as they dried themselves off. “Part of it, anyway.”

“Hmm, sounds lovely,” said Colin, wiping water out of his ear. “A noble cause, as I said last night.”

“You don’t seem as alarmed by my...difference as the others.”

“No, I suppose not. But then, I’ve seen a lot in my time on this earth. I know that the Lord Skiouros has created many strange things, some of them quite wonderful. After all, it’s our differences that make us unique, is it not?”

“I guess.”

Colin paused for a long time then. He looked so noble standing there in the earliest light of day, Alar thought. Majestic, even. His fur was still damp and lying almost flat against his muscular body; his paws rested on his hips as he gazed pensively across the reflective surface of the lake. Despite his best efforts, Alar could not help but notice how well-endowed his friend was as well, though he refrained from staring too long. Luckily, Colin didn’t seem to be paying attention. When at last he did turn, it was slowly, and he looked as though he was going to say something more to Alar when a voice hailed them from afar:

“Alar! Colin! Where are you two?”

“Well, best be headed back,” said Colin with his usual reassuring smile. “No need to hold the party up.”

So, they dressed and returned to eat beside their companions. Following a short and simple repast, the party doused the campfire, gathered their gear, and was soon on the road west toward the still distant Forest Tower.