The Tale of Alar

8 (Part 1)

They retraced their steps through the now empty halls to the exit. Finding the way back proved tenfold easier than finding the way up, and the air was just a little less stifling. It was as though, without Jord’s power, the entire structure had reverted to being a peaceful, harmless forest within a tree. They even spotted a couple of birds flitting about between the boughs.

Though they found no trace of the strangled Burrus, they discovered the broken body of Brock where he had fallen at the base of the tower and laid it to rest near the tower’s roots.

“They were bold brothers both,” spoke Colin over the humble grave. “And they deserve more than mere thanks for what they did. They deserve at the very least for us to see this quest through to completion.”

“Aye,” said Alar with a tremor in his voice. “In memory of Brock and Burrus.”

“In memory of Brock and Burrus,” repeated the rest as though drinking a toast to the fallen. They remained a moment in silence, then one by one turned away to see to making camp for the night.

“I think we should keep a vigil tonight,” suggested Colin once they had finished. “In their honor.”

“I was about to suggest the same,” said Alar.

Colin nodded. “Very well. Then you may take the watch after mine. Who else?”

“I will,” spoke Grant to everyone’s surprise. He was staring hard into the fire, and did not look up to meet their gazes.

“I’ll go last,” spoke Fagan.

Slowly Colin nodded. “Very well. Fagan, Grant, Alar, and myself it will be. Then we may take our ease, knowing that tomorrow we shall sleep with a roof over our heads once more.”

And thus it was. Colin took first watch. Alar, who was not having the best night’s sleep anyway, came to relieve him sometime after midnight. Colin said naught, but placed a paw on Alar’s shoulder and forced a smile to try and cheer him up before moving on to get his rest. Alar stood in the dark, contemplating the day and its events. How quickly he had seen two lively, boisterous squirrels stricken lifeless before his very eyes. His own eyes watered up at the realization that, rough though things had been in Telos, he had never seen death up close until that day, and only now did he understand what it truly meant. Within seconds, he was weeping outright, kneeling beside the grave with the axe planted at its head.

“I’m so sorry, Brock,” he said quietly between sobs. “I’m sorry for both of you. I wish it had been me instead. I’m sorry that any of this had to happen, and I promise...I promise I’ll do better f-f-for the rest.”

He continued weeping unashamedly, thinking how hollow and dumb his words sounded. But at the same time, he felt somewhat better knowing that at least their spirits might hear his words and take some comfort from them. They had not seemed especially pious squirrels to him, but he imagined they had made it to the forest in the sky nonetheless, and even said a little prayer to that effect.

Eventually he dried his eyes and stood up straight to carry out the remainder of his vigil. It was only fitting that he should show the proper respect on this kind of duty, and he even felt a little silly for his outburst. What would Colin say if he had seen him crying like a little kitten just a moment ago? So, he stood still, trying to think of something positive to dispel the gloom that cast a pallor over his soul, but succeeding only partially.

At last Grant arrived on the scene.

“I’ll take over now, mate,” he said in a low voice.

Mate? thought Alar. He’s never called me that before. Not once!

Alar was too stunned to speak, but just nodded and made for his bed. But Grant placed a paw on his shoulder as he turned, stopping him.

“Hell of a fight today, eh?”

“Hell of a fight,” echoed Alar, neatly slipping out of Grant’s grasp. All right, what is he up to?

“Listen, Alar. I, uhh...I just wanted to say, you’re a damn good fighter, and I’m pleased to fight by your side.” He waited for a response, but Alar just stood there gazing at him with doubt in his eyes. So, he went on. “Really! Today proved that beyond question.”

Alar looked ready to believe him, but hesitated nonetheless.

“Thanks, but…You’re not just saying this because I saved your life earlier, are you?”

Grant shrugged. “Maybe that’s what sparked it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.”

Alar nodded. “Fair enough.” He took a step forward, then paused and turned. “And Grant?”

“Aye?”

“You’re not a bad scrapper yourself.”

Grant twitched a smile, and Alar did the same.

“Well, goodnight, Alar.”

“Night, Grant.”

And with that, Alar retired for the night, feeling somewhat assuaged. For despite the loss of two friends, he felt that perhaps he had made some headway in eliminating an old foe. Either way he was very tired, and more than a little sore from the day’s exertions. So, within seconds of lying down, the young swordsquirrel finally fell fast asleep.

Nobody was in a great hurry to move out the next morning. Still worn out and sore from the day before, the six squirrels ate a leisurely breakfast before dousing the fire, hauling their packs onto their backs, and setting off to find the road leading north toward the Century Mountains. Alar cast one more glance back at the little cairn under which Brock lay. It looked so lonely and forlorn there that it almost made Alar cry anew to behold it in the light of day. But Elvar placed a paw on his shoulder as he came up beside him and spoke reassuringly:

“Worry not, my young friend. None shall disturb their slumber ever again, now that we have rid this forest of a great evil. Soon the flowers will bloom once more, and this accursed tower will return to the earth from whence it came. But the memory of the two brave squirrels who gave their all to end that evil will live on forever in our hearts and in the memorial you and Colin so lovingly constructed.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Alar. “I do believe you’re right.”

And so, with his spirits lifted a little, Alar joined his companions on the march once more, and Elvar quickly resumed his place at their head.

“If we make good speed, we should make the town of Alba Longa by late this afternoon,” he announced to the company. “Mind, it does not owe allegiance to Kentros, but nor is it under the control of Magus and his dark wizards yet. It is a trading town, and I’ve little doubt we shall find some things worth acquiring there, particularly in regards to replenishing our supplies.”

“Decent meal and a real bed’s all I want,” said Vitrio. “If they got that, the place is as good as Heaven.”

“Then you shall have it. But only if we get there.”

So, the companions traveled on, leaving behind them the scene of their first triumph...and their first tragedy. They were not long in finding the road again, and they stuck to it. The day was gray and humid, but nevertheless, Colin took a deep breath and let it out with evident satisfaction.

“The air feels much cleaner already,” he said. “The forest of our ancestors has been saved.”

“It will take some time for every trace of Magus’s evil to disperse,” replied Elvar. “And unless we can kill him, it will no doubt return. However, we have certainly taken an important step in the right direction.”

The day went by and the gray slowly dispersed. The companions took a short rest and repast as soon as they reached the Genatrix River, then crossed in the early afternoon. By late afternoon, as per Elvar’s prediction, they had come to the bustling town of Alba Longa near the foothills of the Century Mountains. They stalked into town during the heat of the day. Alar mopped sweat from his brow as he took in their surroundings.

Alba Longa was not that big. Certainly no bigger than Alar’s hometown. But it was a fair sight busier. The squirrels were mostly gray here, though there were a few reds and even a couple big fox squirrels hauling baskets of bread and vegetables about. Young children played in the streets, but were dressed almost as finely as the adults. The residents of this town were mostly of the merchant class, and did a good business, it seemed. Little wonder there were soldiers and peacekeepers at nearly every street corner and gate: any of the squirrel kingdoms would love to have such a jewel as this added to their crown. Only Alba Longa’s friendly relations with its neighbors and ferociously independent attitude had kept it from being swept up by these envious factions for so long.

The party stopped at the Wanderer’s Rest, where they were able to secure rooms and take a hardy repast. While gathered at the table together, Elvar suggested they all retire early so as to set off early on the morrow. Most approved, though Vitrio said he would stay up drinking as late into the night as he wanted.

“No better way to unwind after a trying ordeal like that,” he said. “But you all do as you like.”

Thereafter they took their ease for a little while, staying on for a drink, strolling about town, or browsing wares in the marketplace as they saw fit. Alar admired many of the fine things he saw there. He had little enough money to spend, of course, but as Rus had always told him, looking was free. There were multi-colored, patterned carpets and rolls of cloth, glass works both practical and purely decorative in purpose, and many wonderful works of jewelry set with precious stones. Alar was generally a very practical buck, but even he could not help wondering occasionally how a shirt made from a certain color or cloth would look against his fur, or how a given ring would look on the paw of his beloved at home.

In his heart he felt just a tinge of sadness at the thought of Adam. Back there in that slum all alone, wondering if his lover would ever return from his faraway quest. Oh, how he wished he could hold him right now and assure him he was all right! He stroked his own homespun cloak absent-mindedly as he pondered some fine green velvet. Imagine what a skillful tailor’s apprentice like Adam could make if he were given some quality material like that to work with! Not that he disliked what he had, for the tunic he wore had been freely given and stitched with love, and he would not trade it for all the finest velvet in the world.

As he continued browsing, he found Colin by his side.

“See anything you’d like to have?” he asked.

“Oh, many things. Though, I suppose I shouldn’t.”

“Nonsense! If you see something, just get it. Nothing to stop you.”

“I haven’t any money, though. You know that.”

“I do, but...”

“Don’t say you’ll loan it to me,” Alar preempted him. “I know you would, but you’ve bought more than enough for me as is. I can’t make myself indebted to you any further.”

Colin gave a shrug and spread his paws wide. “You’re not indebted to me, friend. All I have given has been granted freely, and at any rate I think you have more than earned it. In fact, I think you‘ve earned this.” He pulled a small bag out from beneath his cloak and undid the drawstring. There, glimmering dimly before Alar’s eyes, were nigh a hundred little coins made of pure silver. The young buck’s eyes widened a bit as he looked from the coins to Colin and back again.

“Where did you get those?”

“Found them,” replied Colin, tucking them beneath his cloak once more. “While we were exploring that accursed tower. You know how Elvar told us not to touch anything?”

Alar nodded.

“Well, I confess, I couldn’t help myself at one point. I spotted this tree stump that looked a bit out of place as we were passing through a really dense patch of greenery. Well, I gave it a pat, only to find that it was hollow. I don’t know by what means or by whom it was done, but someone had hollowed that stump out and placed all kinds of odd objects inside. There were sundry useless trinkets and effects too, but this bag was easily the most valuable thing there. Curious, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

“Anyway, I didn’t bother telling the others about it, as I didn’t want to tempt anyone to go wandering off in search of treasure while we were on an important mission. But now, I would like you to have half of it. For your brave actions in the tower.”

Alar did not know what to say. He had never seen so much money in his life, much less all at once. To be offered such a sum was almost more than he could bear. So, tempting though it was to accept, he merely shook his head.

“I can’t. Thank you for the offer, Colin, but it wouldn’t be right. You found it, so it’s yours by right, and if we were to split it, I think it ought to be shared equally among all six of us rather than just between you and me. Besides, I wouldn’t know how to take care of that much money at once. In a place like this it would burn a hole in my pocket in a trice, and I’d be left penniless again within a day. So thank you, but please hold onto it.”

Colin was visibly taken aback by Alar’s words, but stowed the money away regardless.

“Uncommon sentiment in one so young,” he muttered. “But have it your way, Alar. Just know that my purse is as good as yours, should you need anything.”

“Thank you, Colin. You really are a wonderful friend.”

Colin smiled distractedly. “I try, I suppose. Well, perhaps we ought to go back now. The sun’s going down and we’re in a strange town. Best not be caught separated after dark, eh?”

So, they returned to the Wanderer’s Rest, where they found Vitrio deep in a drinking contest with Fagan and two big gray squirrels. The two grays looked like they were using all their focus to stay in. Vitrio looked a tad sickly, but put on a brave face. And Fagan, the youngest of them all, appeared to be enjoying himself immensely.

“Come on, lads, next round!” he said spryly. “I’m only just getting warmed up, don’t you know?”

So, another round of drinks was delivered and the four took up their mugs.

“Cheers, lads?”

The others looked a bit reluctant, but Vitrio raised his mug. “Cheers, Fagan. Even if these two are too yellow to keep going.”

This infuriated one of the big grays, who switched instantly from consternation to a determined scowl and raised his mug as well.

“Cheers, then!”

Four mugs clacked together, and four squirrels tipped back their heads to down the contents, which met with wild approval from the small crowd gathered to watch. Their throats bobbed up and down rapidly as they swallowed, little trickles of ale dribbling down their chins. They then slammed the mugs down almost simultaneously on the table top.

“That’s it!” said one of the grays miserably, throwing his paws up. “I’m done.”

“Aye, thanks for playin’, mate,” said Fagan with a wink. “The rest of you lads up for another round?”

Vitrio and the remaining gray both hesitated, but maintained their determined looks as the latter growled, “Just bring another, barkeep!”

So, another round was brought, and the three contestants once more bade each other “Cheers!” This time Vitrio finished first, giving a great belch and raising his mug high.

“Thash show youse lot. I’m...hyuk!...the greatesh!” he said, just before overbalancing himself and falling out of his chair. The audience roared with laughter as the squirrel rogue began snoring loudly. The other two contestants stared at one another, ignoring their fallen companion. The gray looked utterly miserable, but the loss of all but one foe encouraged him to call for “Another!”

Fagan’s eyes gleamed with delight as he took up his mug.

“To your health, sir!”

“To my victory, you mean!”

They clacked mugs and began guzzling anew. The big gray finished first, slamming his mug down. Fagan took his time as usual, setting it down gently and smiling.

“Well now, you’ve not quite finished,” he said smartly.

“Sure I have!” said the other.

“Nay, from what I see there, you’ve still got a bit left in that mug, so you have.”

“Have not!”

“Have.”

“Haven’t!”

“Here, lend it to me, then.” And without awaiting an invitation, Fagan reached over and grabbed his opponent’s mug, then drained the remainder of its contents in one quick swig to the great amusement of the crowd. This only seemed to make the gray angry.

“How dare you call me a liar!” he snarled.

Fagan smiled winningly and spread his paws out disarmingly.

“To be sure, I did no such thing.”

“You did too, you little red rat. Why, I ought to...”

He stood up and got ready to deliver a whack to his cheeky opponent when a quick tap to the jaw from the side laid him out flat. The crowd cheered uproariously.

“Now why’d you go and do that?” asked Fagan of Alar, sounding most distraught.

“He was going to hit you,” said Alar.

“No, he wasn’t. I’d have dodged aside and let him fall of his own weight. Now they’ll say I cheated and I’ll never win the grand prize.”

“What prize is that?” asked Colin.

“Why, all this here ale, o’ course! Not to mention a passel o’ coins from all those as bet on these here ruffians over me ‘n’ poor Vitrio there.”

The barkeeper interrupted then by coming to the fore and motioning for silence from the crowd.

“Now then, contest rules only stated last one standing. Since that’s you, master Fagan, I declare you the winner!”

He raised Fagan’s paw up high to great applause. Even some of those who had bet against him cheered for the little out-of-towner as he positively beamed with delight.

“Well, blow me down,” remarked Colin with a shake of the head. “Who’d have thought it of our young Fagan, eh?”

“Anyone with any sense, of course,” replied Fagan, baffled. “Me ole ganfer taught me to hold me ale better than common bar rabble like them two.” He gestured toward the knocked out gray squirrel and his ill-looking companion. “I come from a long line of brewers, so I do, or me name’s not Fagan of Ellesmore.”

Further conversation was drowned out by cheering as Fagan was given his prize money to the enormous satisfaction of the crowd. There would be no tolerating the little braggart that evening, so Colin led Alar away from the hubbub to a corner of the room to take some supper. The thick stew was more than welcome fare for the two hardy trencher squirrels, who wolfed it all down with a side of the same ale that had been used in the drinking contest.

“Cor!” exclaimed Alar, almost choking on it as he swallowed a mouthful. “That’s some strong stuff and no mistake. I don’t know how Fagan could stand ten flagons full.”

“He’s in a class of his own, our young friend. But if you really don’t like it, just pass it to me. Waste not want not, as they say.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” said Alar, pulling his flagon a little closer.

“All right, then. A toast.” Colin raised his mug. “To good friends and better days ahead.”

“Aye.”

They clacked their flagons together and took a hearty drink, then called for a bit more. They then tucked into their food, emptied their mugs again, and called for another round. And so the night went on.