Spring,1996
Children are curious creatures, and are always eager to learn and ask questions. Most Children know of their own past clear up through adulthood; they know where they came from and how they got into this world. But if you were brought up like my brother, Philip, and I by (two aging godparents), you'd know even the most detailed inquiries only take you so far.
*Farm life is arduous; there are always chores to be done diligently. But there are joyous times as well, when the harvest is in, and life slows down so people can contemplate the splenders of autumn's beauty. Often, on those crisp autumn nights, we managed to coax a story out of our godfather. Sometimes he would tell legends of the gods, wondrous tales of the battle between Thor and the giants, or the hoodwinking caused by the trickster Loki. Other times, he would tell of the days of his youth, when as a brave young warrior, he had served in King Lifthansir's royal guard before the castle was overthrouwn by dog-sized fire ants. We loved listening to him, velieving every word: we were very pliant.
But tonight, we had another subject in mind, for it had pondered in our minds for several sleepless nights.
"Grandfather" I began, for while he wasn't really our Grandfather he seemed as close as one, "what ever became of our true father?" His eyes opened wide, and he shot a look at our godmother who sat sewing nearby.
"Well" he said at last "I guess if you're old enough to ask, I guess you're old enough to know. Stay here...and I'll show you" He whispered before standing slowly.
Minutes later, he returned with a box. it was a ornately carved wooden box with an intricate crown on the lid and a tiny silver lock on the front. We watched in anticipation as he drew a fine chain from his tunic and used the key that dangled from it to open the lock. Slowly he lifted the lid, and I caught a glimpse of gold reflected in the firelight. He reached inside and drew forth to finely crafted gold chains with circular pendants suspended beneath.
"What are they?" Philip and I gasped as we watched the spinning pendants glisten.
"A gift from your real father," he replied. "He came to us a dozen years ago, with the blood of a hundred wounds covering his body, and the awareness of his own mortality in his eyes. He handed us a tiny basket containing the two of you as infants, and collasped on our doorstep. He awoke just before he died, and asked us to take care of you. He said the amulets he wore were to be yours on your eighteenth birthday. If you twins were worthy, he whispered as his voice failed, it would lead you to fortune and glory
We watched as our godfather gently lowered the pendants back into the box, and he closed the lid.
"And so my children, you have much to live up to. Grow up strong and wise, for God has reached our and touched your lives, as he does with few mortals, I feel that the two of you will have need of all the talents and abilities you can muster in whatever tasks lie ahead.*
For several years, the thoughts of what our godfather told us attacked
our minds like a predator ripping apart his prey. After a while, however,
it escaped our minds in a sea of memories, and was overtaken by our daily activities.
One afternoon, Grandfather's story finally returned to our minds. In a way,
we wished it hadn't. Our godmother had sent us out with our chores. Philip
foddered the animals, and I picked blackberries for a pie. When we returned,
all that was left of our tiny farm, godparents, and memories was
"It's not fair, how did this happen? What are we going to do now, Molly." He hung his head, and before I could answer him, his eyes widened and he pointed at the ground. He began stuttering in disbelief and fear. "Molly" his voice was rasping, "look!"
I looked down, and there, covering the field like a blanket, were (footprints). They were large enough to belong to a man, but they were more triangular in shape, and they only had three toes. In front of each toe print were the indentions that told stories of claws that dug deep into the ground to balance the creatures in every step. I then recall thoughts of our amutlets and that we were seventeen in age and hadn't yet received them from our godparents. I immediately brought this to Philip's attention, who was still overwhelmed by the ungodly footprints. Together, we rushed around to the other side of what was the farm house to lift the floorboard where the box lay under.
I got down on my hands and knees and began running my hands over the blackened soot looking for the piece of tile. I found it only after minutes of searching. Fingering the notch, I got the nerve to open it. I pryed it open with ease, but to my astonishment, the box and it's treasures were as long gone as our family!
"Oh, what are we to do now?" I began to whine. I thought for
sure that the amulets would give us some kind of answer to this
mystery. Our last hope was the priest at
So we began to walk. Odin was about two miles from out farm,
so the trek was not so long. When we arrived at the great Temple,
something came over me that I can't explain. It seemed like I
belonged there, some kind of familiarity, and I think my
brother felt it too. The Temple of Odin was as big as a red wood
tree, and sat perched on the edge of a
The Temple beckoned us to it's threshold. Philip climbed up the mountainous steps, and knocked the wooded gargoyle knocker. A cold erie sound grumbled between the walls and time came to a complete deadlock, as the door creaked ajar, and a funny looking old man appeared at the door's frame. He aimed a peculiar, old, wrinkled, pointed noise into my face that sent a pathway to his beady black eyes that told tales of age and wisdom. The door creaked the rest of the way open, and the unpleasantness of his face combined the awkward way the was dressed looked so much more inviting that we immediately walked inside without any conversing or exchange of words. Words weren't even spoken throughout our tour to the depths of the temple. At first, I thought the Master Wizard just expected us out of knowledge or instinct. But I think conversation between the three of us was not necessary because we could hear and see each other's thoughts. Colorful phrases seemed to illuminate around the old man. My mind began to race like I was trying to vanquish away any thoughts of my own that I had at that very moment. I remember looking at the walls; they were calling to me. I couldn't help but stare, and as I walked, I ran my fingers over the beautiful woodcarvings. Bears, ants, wolves, giants...all of the mythical characters Grandfather spoke of. But I know now his stories were true. I heard a voice in my head that said "Stare long and hard my child, you will face these creatures in the near and present future...come this way."
I turned around, and the wizard beckoned me and Philip to walk
further. We reached the end of the dark hallway. There, from
one end of an endless wall to another, were books; thousands of them.
The wizard simply reached up and touched a leather bound book with
a painted design on the cover. I lunged forward to him, and his
boney fingers handed me the wondrous treasure. Then spoke for the
first time to us. "This is the
He sent us on our way, with money in our pockets to get supplies from the magic shop and armor shop nearby. We went to these stores and bought a small pack, a leather suit of armor, and two short swords. We then proceeded to walk to the nearest tree, and began to study our spellbook
After a few hours, we began to make a treacherous trek into the mountains. At the foot of the mountians was what was King Lifthasir's castle before the castle was invaded thirty years ago. Knowing of the danger that lied ahead, we moved along with caution with our heads held high. Philip took his sword and began cutting at the large, jagged hole at the center of the double doors in the front of the castle. He cut it wide enough to the dog-sized hole was big enough for us to climb through. I stumbled though the hole, and almost twisted my ankle. A hot pain shot through my legs from the blow.
"Help me!" I squealed. Philip's body whipped around, and his hand reached for mine. I stumbled again before gaining complete balance. We continuted half way down the hall of the first floor, when a fierce crashing sound cause tension from behind me. I ran into a crevasse in the face of the left wall. The air was stale, and an empty suit of armor stated it's icy empty glare at me. My brother stood against the wall in front of me. I could see the face of the ant reflected in the armor.
"Arggh!" escaped from Philip's lips, and as if from instinct, he drove his body in front of the ungodly creature and beat it until it stopped moving. Instantaneously, four more ants rushed into the hall, and I reconnoitered deep anger, the feeling that they were as ready to avenge their brother's death as we were our families. In between beatings, I remembered the magic arrow spell. my tight fists lost their tension, and I began to cast the spell. A metallic green flash of light spilled out of my right palm before my weapon his the ground.
The fire ant roared in pain, and hit the ground with a lifeless thud.
The rest of the ants backed off in fear. Still in shock from the dancing tingling feeling in my arm, I stood up. Walking cautiously was an understatement in our case. The words of the old man before he sent us on our way appeared in our minds. Our destination: the basement of the dungeon, to retrieve our amulets. We rushed quickly over the cobble-stoned floor. Our feet mnechanically glided us to the steps that led to the lower floor. My palms began to sweat because my nervousness got the best of me. I thought of what may be lurking for us, smelling our flesh; ready to strike. I looked at my brother. His forehead was beaded with perspiration that rolled from his brow; he was nervous too. We approached a large green chamber door, and before entering we glanced a frightful look at one another. I closed my eyes, counted to three, and flung open the door with so much force it almost broke off its hinges . From each of the four corners, (goblins) crepted from out of nowhere. Black eyes the size of marbles stared, glaring. Scaly, wrinkled foreheads tensed, as rough black hair stood on end. Each on wore a covering; weathered and tattered with age. In each right palm, a blood sharp spiny club.
Philip didn't wait nor hesitiate. He began swinging violently.
His cumbersome blows slashed the air as the first goblin danced back. My sword collided with a goblin's club. He pushed me off and I flew backwards, hitting my head against the stone wall behind me. I cried out, and my brother's body whirled around. The goblin behind him struck his shoulder, and he went down like quicksilver. Blood ran down my face as I kicked my legs over my head, pushed off my hands, and landed on my feet. I plowed into the goblin, knocking him on his back. I yank the club from his clenched claws and bludgeoned him until his face was deformed with blood, cartilage, and loose flesh. A second goblin grabbed me from behind and held back my arms by their buckling joints. Philip came to and reached behind the goblin, slashing his throat.
All the creatures spread out in a huge bloody mass. In one corner of the room was a
I looked at Philip, who was weak and tired. I almost forgotten about the spellbook because my mind was stuck on the spasmodic brawl. "Let's give up, I cannotr fight anymore." I smacked him.
"Did our father relinquish as a live man? He gave us a responsibility to live up to. He believed in us as we should believe in him. Do I have to admonish you agains t your will my brother, or are we going to continue until we get some answers?"
"I guess you're right, Sister." He bowed his head in shame.
We took the spellbook, and discovered it was literature on the
Taking the parchment in complete consideration, we journeyed back to Odin. It was a beautiful spring day. The air was cool and crisp. The katydids sang love songs to attract their mates. And we sat under an apple tree. The apples were young on some trees, and white blossoms blew from others. Despite the unripenness of the fruit, we ate it anyway. Our hunger overcame us.
When we reached the hamlet, everything and everyone was dead in the smokey soot. The erie footprints resembled the ones around the debris of our godparent's farm.
The Temple of Odin and all of it's glory was burned to the ground as well, but the sole of the Great wizard and his treasures were frozen in our memories.
We sat and mourned over yet another loss. My mind wandered again and I realized after piecing everything together that *these murderers were after us and nothing else.* We've just been at the right place at the right times and it was purely coincidence that we were still alive.
My thoughts were so intense that I began thinking out loud. Philip and I discovered we were not alone.
"They were after you." I whipped my head around to find a funny little troll looking up at me. He stood about four feet tall, and tiny tuffs of oil black hair peaked behind two large saucer-sized pink ears. His deep set blue eyes were almost covered by his spiky beetle brow. His pink nose was the size and shape of a pear, and it rested in the middle of his pale, wort ridden face. The troll's mouth was red with cold sores and it was draped over crooked, rotting, and foul smelling teeth. His entire body was covered with course black hair, and a donkey's tail hung from his backside.
"I am Handel, a messenger from The Master Wizard. He was my keeper for centuries and has trained me for just so a special occasion.
"Can you help us?" I inquired.
"I can do more than that, silly girl! Before the Master died, he told me to tell you to sleep here tonight. When you wake, you will find an obstacle to overcome. If you succeed, your amulets will be returned to you are you will have all the power and glory that your tiny hearts desire."
So that we did. The night was peaceful, and the sky was filled with silver stars that sparkled over the ugliness of the burned hamlet. Our sleep was content with tranquility and sweet dreams, but we were
startled awake from a sound of rattling. A
"THE AMULET!" Abruptly, Philip snatched a rock from the earth. He smashed open the lock, and the glinting pendants smiled back at us.
"It's time my children..."I turned on my heal, and there, hanging over us abreast to the rising sun, wre the apparitions of the Master Wizard and a radiant light surrounding a young man. They floated side by side, and glided down to the earth with amazing grace. The young man stepped foremost, and reached his milky white hands to us. His eyes were light, clear and blue, with gilded flecks. His hair was blonde, and glittered in brilliance. His features were correspondent to Philip's.
"Time for what, Father?"I asked.
"Today is your eighteenth birthday, and you have proven yourselves worthy of the good fortune the amulets provide."
"I thought our birthday is three months from sundown." informed Philip.
"Your godparent's told you that because that was the eve that I presented you to them. They were unaware of your true birthdate
"What is to become of us?"
Philip and I slowly lifted the pendants from their asylum. We each held up our treasures to the sunlight to watch them sparkle before
sliding their delicate chains over our heads. Instantaneously, a brilliant luminous radiance surrounded the both of us.
"Now my beautiful children, you have the strength and power to pass on to your own descendents. Thos amulets are the only true record
of your existence. Go the kingdom six miles north of this very spot. It is called Koriden. The villigers there have expected your return for
eighteen years, and when you return, you will have all the worldly possessions you ever desired.
And so, we promenaded for six miles, and all our hardships were nearly forgotten. The villagers honored us, and made us their
official gurdians. Our mission was to keep the kingdom safe from the hate and harm of the creatures that lurked in the mountains. We got eanything we ever
wanted in life, but there were some things money couldn't buy. Till this day, we don't know what it's like to have a real family.
The moral of the story:
In life, everyone has a destiny. But unlike Molly and Philip, we don't know what life holds for us. Keep trying new things and new ideas
until you find what works, and then fulls speed ahead. Symbolism in this story makes the moral more clear. The amulets were the goal, the goblins,
ants, and spiders were obstacles, and the kingdom was the outcome; what makes the goal more worth while. So use this story as motivation to find your
own destiny, before your left in the dark.
What did you think of "Vengence"? Email me and tell me What you think!"
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