Caleb's Journey
Chapter 42

Epilogue

The group that had slain Xerax eventually made their way back to Attalis. Each of them stared incredulously at the havoc that had been wrought. The bones of a dragon lie upon the ground, hundreds of yards of battle trenches remained, smashed siege weapons littered the battlefield, Attalis had a crack in its much vaunted walls, and scores of ogre and gnoll bodies littered the ground and the moats. The place smelled like death.

Sir Samsuran personally met them at the gate and bade them enter. He remarked with empathy that the number of troops who met them when they rode on for their quest was greatly diminished. Upon learning of the death of Lord Lestrade, he shed tears, forgiving his former friend and mourning his loss. He embraced his brother knights and said a prayer for the fallen. Both sides recounted tales of their adventures, Sir Samsuran relaying to them what kind of army had attacked them. His first order of business had been to bury the skeletons, next was to bury the ogres and gnolls in the trenches they had made. He even chuckled that they had unwittingly dug their own graves. He gave the heroes a feast for if they had not slain Xerax, all would have been lost.

Sir Bix, Alari, and Seth Kitarn rejoiced at the sight of their friends. They explained to them how when the roof collapsed in the lair of the worms that Graygrim had shielded them with his body and then dug them all out with his powerful, gigantic hands. After that, they told the tale of how the giant could replace any location necessary by speaking with his father and that his father told him that a dragon had returned to Mithkre. That was all the provocation the giant needed to join the cause and hastily make his way to Attalis. His work finished, he bid everyone a hearty farewell and left everyone to speculate as to his whereabouts.

Upon their return to the capitol city the Light King received the troop with a supreme celebratory nature as news of the victory at Attalis had already reached his ears, as had the death of Xerax. He hosted a banquet in their honor and issued a royal apology to all of them for having ever doubted them. Secretly he mourned the loss of his friend and confidante, Lord Lestrade. It bothered him further still that that knight had no heirs. Alari and Seth, who had bridged the divide between their two races were offered positions as diplomats at court. Alari readily accepted, happy to supplant her superior.

“What of you, Seth Kitarn? Do you seek a place here at my court?” the monarch inquired.

Seth respectfully declined, stating that he wanted nothing more than to return to Morgado. “I mean to marry my female, father children with her, open a tavern, and become fat and happy.”

The tavern flourished under its famous owner who was never at a loss for words and felt only too happy to regale his guests with tales of his heroic exploits.

Candellah, her divine powers no longer in doubt, but celebrated as a gift from Uua and the return of white magic in the realm got a temple of her own, by royal decree it was to be the greatest temple in the land. All nobles and dignitaries made it their church of choice in the hope of currying her favor or having her perform some miracle to heal either a friend or family member or simply to discuss

their visit at their social gatherings.

Sir Samsuran was restored to lordship. His majesty requested that the brave commander favor the country by staying on as the protector of Attalis as he had done such a splendid job, which the knight accepted. Victor IV even apologized to his longtime confidant and admitted that he had reacted harshly in the matter of the battle for the Cadre Island. Ever humble, Lord Samsuran knelt before his liege and said that no apology was necessary, that they all served at the pleasure of his majesty.

Sir Kyme was given a lordship and Sir Vintus, Sir Anvar, and Sir Bix were all given parcels of Lord Lestrade’s former lands for that knight had no direct heir and all minor claimants thought better of challenging the claims of such favored nobles.

As for Malakael, he wanted no reward and he also opted not to return to the Order of the Tear except to say good-bye to Master Summal. “Master, I am not worthy of the Order and I have come to take leave of it.”

He felt that he had violated his oath and now that the Tear was gone, what was the purpose of the order? He departed for parts unknown with his self-inflicted guilt that he had reverted to his former self and had to seek redemption, somehow. His use of magic on the quest had started small, but grown over time and he knew that he had nobody but himself to blame for his reversion, even though he knew of no other way to triumph in the face of such adversity.

“I failed my self-imposed limitations,” he lamented.

Caleb finally realized his dream. His family’s honor was restored and all members of the family, his mother and sister, were welcomed back at court. It was an incredibly joyous reunion between mother and son, sister and brother. All of them wept and embraced each other for what seemed like an eternity.

“I’ve left a boy and come back as a man, he thought. I’m a man of my word and what better sort of man is there?”

The Honor Guard granted him a knighthood and a vote in whom to select as their new leader, the meeting to take place in a fortnight. He was allowed to keep Darkslayer and as he preferred to fight with two swords, they gave him his father’s weapon, Dawnkeeper, which had been locked away for safekeeping. The Light King even gave him a parcel of Lord Lestrade’s lands for himself, lands adjoining his own families’, thereby expanding the wealth and station of Caleb, for news of his tenacity in battle and leadership skills had reached the ears of Victor IV

. “You’ll replace that I reward my vassals well. I mark you for great things,”

the wise monarch stated

As for his fondness for Candellah, at every service she performed, there he sat, Caleb, who once cursed Uua, in the front row, watching the priestess with adoration as she touched the lives of others with her sermons. His heart’s desire had not diminished in the slightest and he meant to make her his bride though he still struggled with how best to woo her.

“I’ll make her my bride one day,” he thought.

She took notice of him and his unwavering faith in a place where doubt had once reigned. He kept the hope alive in his heart that one day she’d allow herself to love both Uua and himself. Time remains to see if that happy union occurs, but at times in her services she has been known to cast a glance at him and sometimes, even a smile.

Afterword

Thank you to God for giving me life, blessing me with a wonderful family and friends, and whatever talent the reader believes I possess.

My first recollection of mythology comes from my childhood trips to the library with my mom where I had her check out books on Norse mythology for me. Thus, this book, like everything in my life is the fault of my parents.

I always loved Thor and wished that I could somehow forestall or alter the outcome of Ragnarok. The Greek gods, for their part, got their hooks into me for their wondrous and numerous tales and a pantheon of gods possessed of human foibles. Zeus was and is my favorite Greek god. His power with lightning, his wily ways, and his supreme power appeal to me. Theseus, with his bright mind and skill at arms proved himself worthy of my favor amongst their heroes.

My father compounded matters by carelessly leaving a copy of Bulfinch’s “Age of Fables” on his wooden bookshelf in the family room of the house. Bulfinch added to that which I had gleaned from the aforementioned library books. This knowledge fueled my passion for the two aforementioned ancient religions. I’d sit and read that book for hours on end. See, this book really is the fault of my parents.

Flash forward to the fourth grade, Christmas vacation, and a power outage that seemed interminable. I recall the ice being so thick and heavy that a large birch tree that had stood in our front yard now bent horizontally and never recovered. Gathered in the family room, our only source of warmth then was blankets and a fire that burned from morning until we all fell asleep. Due to the lack of light, coming from the fire and the candles we burned to replace our way around the house, primarily to the bathroom, but I digress.

On one of those chilly, snowy afternoons, my old brother Richard brought out some hardbound books with monsters on their covers. He asked if I wanted to play Advanced Dungeons and Dragons. I said “yes”, and he then produced dice of all shapes and sizes. He probably omitted the word Advanced and later in the family lexicon the game was simply known as “D and D”.

Anyway, my first character, a level one fighter, aptly named Thor, headed out for his grand adventure where he encountered a ghost and was subsequently trounced after being aged 120 years in three rounds of combat. Poor Thor and poor me. It certainly wasn’t the glorious death of battling the Midgard Serpent. Regardless, I was hooked on the game for more than a decade. Six of my seven siblings, Christine, Richard, John, Matt, David, and Tori played countless hours of D and D, sometimes at the round table in the basement, sometimes in the dining room, and at times, the kitchen table.

I became what one might call obsessed with the game. I collected porcelain miniatures and with my awful art skills, attempted to pain them into wondrous representations of characters, but instead they looked like pewter with paint globbed onto them. I subscribed to “Dragon” magazine for years and eagerly awaited every monthly copy with baited breath for it might contain a new monster or magic item to use for the game. I even got back issues for Christmas presents.

I could go on for hours on end with my childhood and young adulthood tales of D and D, of my best friend Terry Akerley and I played in his basement, sneaking in the game when he was supposed to be doing his homework and how I slipped out the back door when we heard the garage door open. When Terry fell off of the map we sucked in Matt’s friend Mark, who became a staple at the family gaming table.

As my older siblings went off to college those of us at home still played D and D, the band shrinking with each departing family member until it was primarily David, Tori, Mark, and I left to carry on the family tradition. By this time I had already begun community college and worked on short stories involving the pantheon of superheroes I had created. Yes, I was a comic book collecting nerd as well.

After a brief stint in law enforcement I enrolled in Oakland University working towards a degree in English. My coursework included studying the Bible as literature, Greek Mythology, fiction, and creative writing. I threw in some cool classes on English history to make myself well-rounded. It’s safe to say that I have returned to my roots.

As for roots, my entire family deserves praise more than I deserve self-aggrandizement. One last bit about me. I wish to thank the medical community for helping me survive two heart attacks, pacemaker placement, and a nervous breakdown or two to get here.

Mom and dad, thank you for your love, influence, understanding, lessons, and unflinching support. I owe you a debt that I can never repay and I’m glad God was kind enough to give me both of you as my folks. Kitty, my step-mom, thanks for being a good friend and always inquiring about my progress, both personal and professional.

Seven siblings. Whew! Where do I start? I’ll thank all of them in chronological order. Christine helped me learn how to read and is always sending me something about writing. Richard, as previously mentioned, introduced me to role-playing and served as the dungeon master for years. John and Matt were my most frequent playmates in D and D and other role-playing games. David and Tori allowed me to practice my own dungeon mastery ways which provided me with invaluable insight into my creative nature. Ashley, you arrived a little late to the party, but I still found other ways to torment you. That’s what brothers are for.

My heart goes out to all of my family and friends for influencing me in ways seen and unseen, for supporting me in good times and bad, visiting me in the hospital, the care afterwards, and the ongoing love and support. To my girlfriend, Dr. Marcy Klein, who accepts me unconditionally, encourages my writing, always stands by my side, unfailingly tries to fix my health, I don’t know where I’d be without you.

To the reader I hope that my literary tale entertains you. It was a labor of love, a psychological journey cheaper than therapy, and hours, well years of entertainment and joy. Many were the Saturday nights I spent home alone, listening to the work of some classical composer or crooner, enjoying a glass of chilled white wine, sometimes I smoked a fine cigar, sometimes not, all the while, plying my craft. It is that craft that I submit to you. Enjoy, please.

Acknowledgment

This book would not be possible without a proper cover and for that I needed to pay an artist to produce such a creation. Through the wonders of crowdfunding and the generosity of the people listed below and some other donators I am eternally grateful for their donations have made this work possible:

Joel Kozlowski

Christine Pagac

Matthew Pagac

Richard Pagac

Nick Pilot

Jeff Skalny

Lori Schutz