The Tale of Alar

9

Alar awakened slowly from his dream world. He had seen so many wonderful sights there that it would be a shame to open his eyes knowing he would forget them immediately afterward. But at least the most pleasant sight of all would remain. So, he forced himself to gradually lift his eyelids.

The room was still dark, with only the slightest hint of a lightening sky outside. He stretched a bit and snuggled backward into Colin’s warm body. Only, Colin wasn’t there: just a heaped up mass of blanket. Colin wasn’t anywhere nearby, for that matter. Fully awake, Alar sat up and looked around the room. Colin’s gear was all gone too. His first thought was that he had risen terribly late, and that the others were waiting for him—or worse still, had taken off without him!

But after throwing off his covers and sitting up on the edge of the bed, he relaxed a little. No, they wouldn’t do that. Colin would surely waken him. He sighed and stretched, then placed a paw on his member and smiled to himself. It would be a lot more fun if Colin were here. But no, he decided. He’d better go and see what was going on elsewhere.

So, after splashing some water on his face from a basin on a side table and drying it off, he quickly got dressed and grabbed his kit. Casting one last glance around the room first, he shut the door behind him and headed down the corridor to the stairs. He quickly descended, and found the tavern was just starting to liven up for the morning. A few scattered tables were occupied by early risers. He spotted three of his companions sitting at a table in the corner sipping some sort of hot brew. Among them, to his great relief, was Colin.

“Top o’ the mornin’, Alar!” bade Fagan, looking bright and chipper despite the previous night’s debauchery.

“Morning, all,” spoke Alar, seating himself beside the lad and across from Colin. “Morning, Colin.”

The warrior squirrel did not answer, but smiled half-heartedly back. He still looked rather tired to Alar for some reason. Or else worried? It was hard to tell, but something was not right. He was about to ask when Vitrio stumbled in. Unlike Fagan, he looked very much like a squirrel who had had one too many. From his tousled fur to his bloodshot eyes, it was clear that his evening had been less than restful.

“Well now, if it ain’t me best drinkin’ partner himself,” spoke Fagan. “How are we this mornin’, Vit?”

“Don’t ask,” said the knife-fighter curtly. He cast his belongings down beside his seat and planted himself none-too-gently within, crossing his arms moodily.

“Here now, that’s no way to start the day,” spoke Elvar. “Have some of this.”

He gave Vitrio a sip from his mug, which seemed to perk him up a bit.

“That’s good, that is. Think I’ll have one myself.”

“Alar?” Elvar spoke.

“What? Oh. The same.”

So, two more mugs of the cordial were brought around. It was some sort of heated berry juice that Alar could not readily identify, but it certainly put the brush in one’s tail and the spark in his eyes. He was not more than two sips in when Colin leaned forward.

“A moment, if you would,” he spoke in a low voice, motioning off to the side.

Alar nodded. Colin stood up and made for the corner of the room, and he followed solemnly. Gone was the warm, affectionate demeanor from the night before. In its place was a pensive, even downright cold squirrel. When they were alone, Colin addressed Alar in the same low voice.

“I am so sorry,” he said.

“Sorry?” Alar c****d his head. “For what?”

“I think you know.”

Alar shook his head. “No. That’s nothing to apologize for. It was wonderful. I only wish...we could be together like that always.”

Colin’s brows furrowed with evident disapproval.

“Would that we could, Alar. Oh, how I wish it could be so. Truly my heart aches for that which it has been too long without. And I would be deceiving both you and myself if I did not say I loved you from the first. But...”

“I love you too, Colin!” interrupted Alar. “I know that now without a doubt.”

Colin shook his head vigorously. “No you don’t, Alar. You were tipsy last night. We both were.”

“But that had nothing to do with…”

“It had everything to do with it. You already have a betrothed, Alar. In spirit, if not yet in law. And I know you love him more strongly still, despite your passionate words. I have let my own desires get the better of me and led you horribly astray. Can you possibly forgive me?”

Alar looked away, feeling terribly conflicted. Only now did the guilt of his actions truly strike home, for he had scarcely thought about Adam the night before. He had thought only of himself and his foolish desires. What was more, here was his hero—his idol—brought to the low of begging forgiveness, and all because of him. Pain shot through his heart like a bolt of lightning, and only the desire not to look like a total weakling before Colin kept him from shedding a tear right then and there.

“Of course I forgive you,” he said in little more than a whisper. “But can you forgive my weakness as well?”

“Alas, if only I could. But you know as well as I that forgiveness is not mine to bestow.”

“He doesn’t need to know, does he?” said Alar weakly.

Colin fixed Alar in a kind but firm gaze that instantly made Alar feel all the worse.

“Alar, of course he must know. You cannot keep such a secret from the one you love. When the time comes, you must tell him all, and trust that if he truly loves you in return, he will forgive you.”

Alar sighed and looked down, shoulders slumped.

“I know. You’re right about everything, of course. As always.”

“Not always, I’m afraid,” said Colin, a smile hovering about his muzzle. “And though we shall never be united as I should like, I hope we may remain friends as we have up to now.”

He gave Alar’s whiskers a quick brush with his paw, and the lad looked up and nodded.

“Of course.”

“I am glad. Now, I reckon we ought to eat hearty, as we’ll soon be on the road again. Here’s Grant.”

They greeted their fellow swordsquirrel and resumed their seats with a more cheerful demeanor toward their companions, though inside Alar was deeply troubled. While he knew in his heart he had done the right thing, a part of him wished he could take back his words and show Colin how glad he would be to run away with him so that they might always be together. And yet another, larger part regretted that he had ever been untrue to Adam. It lessened his appetite to the extent that he only nibbled at the edges of the first decent meal he’d had in weeks.

Grant was just about to ask if he could have Alar’s portion, when into the inn stepped a couple of gray squirrels wearing odd robes much like Elvar’s. The old wizard leaned forward and spoke in an urgent whisper:

“I think it best we make our exit now.”

“What? Why?” asked Grant sourly.

“Quiet! Those two squirrels who just entered are agents of Magus, I can tell. And I don’t think they’re here in search of accommodations.”

The six squirrels tried not to stare conspicuously at the newcomers, though it was hard not to, especially when the newcomers seemed very interested in them. In a tavern full of guests seated singly or in pairs for the most part, a party of six sitting off to the side was bound to be noticed. After a moment, the two conferred, then left, casting looks in the direction of the six on the way out. When they had gone, Elvar stood up.

“Most definitely time to go.”

“But I’m not finished eating,” spoke Grant grumpily.

“You can finish on the road, then, but right now we’ve got to get out of here. I sense trouble is not far off, now those two have found us.”

So, the others reluctantly abandoned their repast and followed Elvar to the door. They crept out into the street headed toward the gate. As they were passing through the marketplace, however, Vitrio espied a couple more robed gray squirrels on the far side, as well as two more trailing them distantly.

“Don’t look now, but I think we’re being watched,” he remarked.

“Really? By whom?” asked Fagan, looking around.

“I said don’t look!”

“Indeed. Magus has caught onto us quicker than I should have liked,” remarked Elvar grimly. “It may prove trickier to leave Alba Longa than it was to enter.”

“So, what do we do?” asked Grant, paw on sword hilt.

“Nothing, if we can help it,” replied the wizard. “As of yet, they are merely watching us. We need not start any trouble unless they start it first. Still, I would rather they did not have an opportunity to observe which way we’re going.”

“On it,” said Vitrio. And ere anyone could question him, he was off through the crowd. The others quickly lost sight of him, much to Elvar’s dismay.

“Confound that squirrel!” he muttered.

The others looked about, but saw nothing until someone cried out “Fire! You’re on fire!”

The whole marketplace was instantly thrown into chaos as squirrels started looking this way and that for signs of the reported blaze. Only when smoke began rising from near one of the mage squirrels did others begin to back away or cry out. The two agents of Magus began dancing about wildly as they tried to combat the flames. Suddenly Vitrio reappeared beside the company.

“What, you’re still here? Let’s go while they’re distracted!”

Grant opened his mouth to question the roguish squirrel, but received a brusque shove and a further “Get moving!” from Vitrio ere he could. Thus, taking advantage of the momentary chaos caused by the fire, the six made for the north gate and hurried past the watch, who waved them through distractedly, then rushed by to investigate the uproar that lay beyond.

After four days of travel, the company began to notice another change of scenery. The broad-leafed trees and bushes of the northern woodlands transformed into dense pine boughs and fir shrubs. Cones and pine needles formed a lumpy carpet across the ground, allowing them to supplement their rations with pine seeds. Somehow it seemed a more natural, friendly place to them, though they knew, of course, it was anything but with Magus in control.

What was more, they could not light fires at night. Not only for fear of being spotted by agents of the enemy in his own territory, but also for fear of starting an accidental forest fire amid such flammable trees. So, they ate their meals cold and one or two remained on watch at all times, sometimes up in the pine boughs where they felt even safer.

Still, despite their night vigils, Alar could not but feel that they were somehow the ones being watched. By whom or what he could not say. But the feeling gnawed at him day and night, and he often found himself looking over his shoulder as though expecting to catch a glimpse of some foe lurking behind every tree. But never did he espy any living creature. And that was just it, he realized. There was nothing around to make the forest seem like a forest. Nor bird nor beast lurked in the trees or the bushes below them. There was naught but silence, leaves, and occasional wind. He was finally ready to say something about it that fourth night when a ball of light whizzed past Colin’s head and fizzled out against a tree trunk with a loud Crack!

“Ambush!” someone cried, and they were instantly up in arms. They could see the culprits dodging between trees: squirrels of various kinds dressed in black robes.

“What do we do?” asked Vitrio, ducking low.

“Fight back, of course!” replied Elvar, giving back as good as he got. “Fight for your very lives!”

And so, after recovering from their initial shock, the six did manage to strike back at points and thin the enemy ranks. Again, Elvar and Fagan proved their worth by trading missiles with the assailants. Through swiftness and agility, the others were able to get in close and slay a few as well, though the wizards could move like the wind at times, flitting from one bush to the next, giving themselves away only when their wands emitted deadly flashes. Alar was nigh winded just catching one, and avoided a couple of spells thanks only to his finely honed reflexes. By the time he had slain his enemy, he had been led a fair way from the others and had to follow the flashes of light back. The flashes grew fewer and fewer as he ran, and for a brief second, he feared that perhaps his companions had all been slain. But no, he saw with relief. There were Elvar and Fagan, still standing at the ready. Grant was not far off, and Vitrio darted about making sure their enemies were really dead. There was one more flash a little ways off, then Colin came back breathing hard with a bloodied blade. The six glanced around warily.

“Are they all dead?” asked Vitrio.

“Seem to be,” said Grant. “But what was that all about? How did they find us?”

“Magus has many spies within his own lands,” replied Elvar. “I told you our road would not long remain hidden once we ventured into his realm.”

“Well, great,” spoke Vitrio again. “Now who thinks we wouldn’t have been better off riding?”

A split second later he was on the ground grasping at his neck following one last flash. Alar caught sight of the final magician fleeing and bolted after him. The mists of anger before his eyes nearly blinded him to all else in the dark woodland as he sped on with single-minded determination. Despite the wicked spells tossed wildly in his direction, he soon caught up and pounced. The magician was dead ere he could even cry out, so swift was Alar’s wrath. He stabbed the enemy once more to ensure he stayed down, then again for good measure. Only then, panting heavily and leaning upon the blade planted in his enemy’s chest, was his fury sated. The mists receded, and he suddenly felt very tired. He withdrew, wiped and sheathed his blade, then began the long, slow trek back to the others. His steps were heavy and deliberate, as if the dread in his heart had manifested itself as weights strapped to his ankles.

At last he came back to find Colin, Fagan, and Grant gathered around the still form of Vitrio with heads bowed. Elvar knelt beside him with a paw over the dead squirrel’s eyes, muttering some ancient prayer for the fallen. Alar knew not what to say, so he bowed his head with the others. He had never particularly liked the acerbic little knife-fighter, but after all they had been through together, to lose him like this seemed doubly shameful.

At last, Elvar rose to his feet and looked in Alar’s direction. “Is the last foe slain?”

Alar nodded solemnly.

“Hmm. That is that, then.”

“A curse upon these servants of evil!” exclaimed Colin bitterly.

“Indeed,” confirmed Elvar. “The worst curses imaginable. For they are dark magicians. Squirrels who have elected to use the gifts their creator gave them for their own foul purposes. Magus’s pupils, if you will. He obviously knows of our victory against Jord, and sent this little band to try and stop us.”

“Well, they’ve stopped one of us anyway,” said Fagan sadly. “Poor ole Vitrio. Such a fine fellow he were, and mighty nifty in a tight spot with his quick wits and knife wieldin’ alike.”

“Too true, dear Fagan. Every loss to our company is a victory for Magus, as it robs us of yet more unique talent that we may use against him in the end. Fortunately for us, Alar here seems to have killed the last one. Without anyone to report back, Magus may not realize we’ve survived until we reach the next tower. Then, assuming we reach the top and slay the guardian there, we may at last assail the dark tower itself, though Skiouros knows Magus will erect every barrier to hinder us by then.”

“Just as He alone knows what fate may await us on the road thither,” spoke Colin. “But that is for the future. Right now, I think it is our duty to honor our brave companion with a proper burial. It seems a lonely and desolate place for him to take his slumber, though at least he shan’t be disturbed.”

“I think he would prefer it that way,” remarked Alar.

Thus, they buried their third companion near the roots of a great pine that night, holding a small funeral service in the moonlight. Then, at last, they turned in to take their own rest, leaving Fagan to take first watch. Then came Colin, and afterward Alar.

It was a long, lonely watch for the young squirrel, visited by countless thoughts. Thoughts of Vitrio, of the road ahead, and of his home so far behind. He shook his head and sighed. How different things were out here in the wide world! Even on his best day, he could have never imagined...

“Psst! Alar!”

He turned with paw on hilt, then sighed with relief. "Grant! What’re you doing awake? It’s not your watch yet.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Been thinking too much.”

“Oh?” There’s a pleasant change, he thought, but immediately regretted it. “What about?”

“Oh, this and that, I suppose. But mainly about poor old Vit. And the brothers, of course. Just makes you realize how quick it can all be over, you know?”

“Aye, it does.”

“And it’s got me to thinking, if I die on this quest, I don’t want to do so with you as my enemy.”

Alar shot him an inquiring look, so Grant explained further. “I just want to say, well…I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being such an absolute asshole for so long. I truly regret that we’ve been enemies for so long. I guess I’ve always been…well, a bit jealous of you. You’re so fierce, loyal, and brave. You’ve got a foster dad who loves you and…someone else who loves you even more. So, umm…I guess what I mean to say is, I’d like to put all that behind us, if we could. You’ve got my word I’ll never call you or your boyfriend names again, all right?”

In spite of himself, Alar actually smiled as he nodded. “All right, Grant. Apology accepted.” He paused. “I reckon I’ve been a bit of an ass myself at times, so it’s only fair.”

Grant, too, smiled. “It’s fine, mate. I forgive you too.”

“So, you going back to sleep, then?”

“Naw. I think I’ll stay up, if it’s all the same to you. Two pairs of eyes are better than one, wouldn’t you say?”

“Fair enough.” Alar paused, then added, “Friend.”

Thus, the two young bucks stayed up, talking and watching the perimeter into the next morning, when their companions awoke and they took breakfast in near silence. Thereafter they paid their last respects to another brother-in-arms and proceeded up the steep, winding road into the mountains.