When life weighs heavily upon you, avoid making important, life-changing decisions.

Trust me—you’ll regret it.

The moons were high in the sky, their gibbous shapes casting a soft blue light across the landscape. In the missing crest of Iskäri-Kalam, Erimuri burned bright—looking like a cosmic flower, floating independently in the night. Clusters of stars littered the sky, filling the blackness with their own brilliance. Laughter and cheers mingled with the constant groan of carts and wagons rolling up from Woodside—supplies and villagers gathering behind the refuge of Til-Thorin’s walls. The proclamation had gone forth. The countryside was laboring through the night in preparation for war.

King Robert understood the casualties of combat. The losses would be great. Though spirits were high among both soldier and farmer, he had seen what Thule was capable of. Experienced the horrors of the Vallen in eastern skirmishes, first hand. With his permission, all those manning Til-Thorin’s defense were given one night. Mead, wine and ale were brought up from the Stewards cellar and shared freely with the soldiers. Music played and cheers were heard as servants and those from the village continued to prepare. Many would drink themselves into a stupor. Some would slide down along a curtain wall and sleep it off until mid-day. Others chose not to drink at all and spend the night in supplication to whatever God they worshipped.

One night, spent as they wished.

It was an unfair exchange, King Robert knew, but it was the only gift he could give.

Chuck and the King stood quietly atop the outer curtain wall.

They’d found a spot just outside the reach of torches and firelight from the festivities. The wizard leaned against the battlements, looking out over the trees and stream, the sounds of celebration echoing behind. The delicate scent of cherry and vanilla from Chucks pipe, rolled down and caressed the stray whiskers of his beard, while King Robert enjoyed the bourbon soaked tobacco Andilain was famous for.

A diluted jug of Black Seed Rum, pilfered from the Stewards private storage, sat next to Chucks sandals. He slid his index finger through the handle and lifted it to his lips. He took a deep swig from the narrow mouth, then passed the jug to the King.

“I’m not certain I’m ready for this, Bobby,” he said with a cough, wiping the milky foam from his lip with the back of his sleeve.

The King chuckled softly, setting the jug down on the battlements. “I’ve seen a lot of strange things in my time, old man, but I’ve never met a soul who would be ready for the life you lead.” He took another puff of his long, slender pipe, studying the silhouette of his oldest friend and mentor. The lines in Chucks face looked deeper in the moonlight, the expressions too serious…and solemn. It almost didn’t look like the wizard he knew.

“I’ve spent my life preparing for these prophetic conflicts, Chuck,…but I can’t say I’m ready either. Luckily, we have you, we have the Elder’s here and the Rook to assist.” He paused, taking another puff, “And if the prophecies are right, we’ll have the Hero with us eventually.”

“Jug.”

The King passed the rum back and Chuck took a deep gulp.

The powerful liquid went down the wrong pipe, making the wizard cough and spit over the wall.

“Yeah,…that’s right,” he choked, setting the mug on the stone. He looked up into the night sky…and wondered if the High Council was listening in on their conversation. His eyes fell to the dark forest below. They both listened to the merry tunes being played in the courtyard behind them. Chuck’s eye twitched as the lute-player plucked the instrument off key.

“I could stop it, you know,” he whispered ever-so-softly.

King Robert pulled the pipe from his mouth. He stared at Chuck sharply, “What did you say?”

“SHHHH!” the wizard waved his hands wildly, looking about quickly to make sure no one was listening. He held up a finger to his lips. “The events about to occur,” he whispered again, “The ones about to change the face of the land. This entire world, in fact.” He leaned heavily against the stone, “I can stop them, Bobby.”

Long arms wrapped around the clay jug like. “Stop them all from happening…and change the course of history. Here. Tonight. Now.” His long, boney fingers strummed the clay surface, absentmindedly. “We’re at the crux of every prophecy, my boy, and the future of mankind hinges on the decisions made before the rising of tomorrows sun.” He paused, clenching his eyes tight, “Once these events play out, the future is set. There will be nothing I can do to stop it.”

He looked over at the King with an almost pleading expression on his face. “But tonight, I could change…everything.”

Robert shook his head as if he’d heard a strange noise. He pushed away from the battlements and stepped in closer to the old wizard. He opened his mouth, then hesitated. This wasn’t like the old man. Compromise was not in his nature. This meant there was something deeper than he was letting on. He weighed his words carefully before he spoke.

“You’ve never told me this before,” he started to say, “That you could change the course of these events. Why not?”

Chuck looked at one of his hand. He slowly rotated it from front to back in the dim light from below. “I thought I lost everything, so long ago.” His voice was near monotone, as if in a trance—his eyes locked on the wrinkles of his own flesh. “Used all my power, all my knowledge, to live this long. So I could strike back.” He closed his eyes and squeezed them tightly, “Because I had nothing to lose.”

Chuck reaching out, gripping the Kings forearm, eyes still tight. “But my life is full now…and I have everything to lose. Again.” His head dropped forward. “Again.”

The King clenched his pipe in his teeth and placed his hand over the wizards. He remained silent as the wizards shoulders trembled for long moments.

The whites of Chuck’s eyes seemed to glow as he looked up. They were fixed. Determined. “If I change the course of history, you could live out the rest of your life. Find a wife. Make a family.” He looked out over the festivities. “…even Dax,” he choked, faltering for an instant, “my little monkey.” But the soft expression turned cold, “I can stop it all.”

“Then why don’t you?”

The cold expression fell away. The wizard bit his lip, his eyes once more looking to the heavens. He inhaled deeply, but remained silent.

King Robert pulled back, resting his thick arm against the stone. “Didn’t you teach me that for this people to survive, we had to be willing to sacrifice all for the sake of future generations? That part of the strength and virtue of a great society is to live free—and that freedom included the right to fail and learn from our own mistakes?”

The old wizard stood frozen as if lost in thought, but the King knew better. Chuck had a talent for observing and listening to everything and everyone around him at the same time.

A crowd of guards burst out cheering. Flinging ale from their mugs they laughed and pointed at a roughly constructed wooden target propped up next to a fire pit. The boards, leaning against a wagon wheel, had a crude face painted upon it in green paint. It was riddle with holes, three daggers still protruding around the rim.

The men parted as a little female gnome with red hair stepped forward, swaying from side to side—a pint of ale in hand. With the other hand, Alhannah held a human-sized dagger, which looked more like a sword as she lifted the weapon. The group chanted her name repeatedly, until she laughed. Drawing her arm back, she lobbed the dagger across the courtyard in a low arch. It tumbled through the air…and struck the target dead center. The men burst into cheers once more, as did the spectators.

“Are you telling me that was all a lie?” continued the King. He leaned against the old man and gave him a light nudge with an elbow. “Or are you telling me you’ve just lost your nerve!?”

Robert looked up to the sky himself, taking another drag of his pipe, the smoke slowly seeping from his mouth and rolling up the hairs of his mustache.

Chuck pulled back from the wall, cleared his throat and flipped up the jug of rum. The King watched him gulp repeatedly until the wizard drained the remainder of the jugs contents.

An owl glided overhead, silent as the grave. They both watched the winged predator, on the hunt for food, navigate through the trees to the east. It disappeared among the shadow of branches.

Chuck took a shuddering breath. “Those trees didn’t existed when the Keep was first erected.” He pointed in the direction os the owl, “This beautiful forest was used to erect Til-Thorin and a village nearby.” He paused for a few moments, then turned and gave King Robert a smile. “Until you made a decree that the population was to replant the forest and shape it around the Keep, it was barren.”

The King took another long drag of the pipe. “I remember.”

“You provided beauty, concealment and fuel for the future generations of the kingdom through a single, simple act.” Chuck continued to grin as he remembered Roberts counselors calling the King mad. He laughed out loud. “Resources were meant to be used,” he said mockingly in a gravel tone, imitating one of the deceased counselors. “My the conflict was intense. If I remember correctly, it became bad for politics.”

“It certainly was.”

“So what did you do?”

The King smirked, but didn’t answer.

“You simply out lived them! Made the decree among the next generation.” Chuck stroked his beard and rocked back and forth on his heels, amused.

“I never told you this,” Robert interrupted, “but I made my choices in life because of what you taught me.”

Chuck frowned at him, perplexed. “You did?”

“I believed everything that ever fell from your mouth,” he said, pausing only to take a long draw of his pipe. “I had no reason to doubt you. You saved my life…and you’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father.” He pondered for a moment, then added, “Or a mother for that matter.”

“Watch it.”

“But it’s more than that, Chuck. Something always felt,…right, in what you taught. The prophecies you read to me, the people you introduced me to. You shaped me. Helped me to be a part of the future you always talked about. So, naturally, I wanted to play my part…”

The King faltered for a moment and his countenance fell. Taking the pipe from his mouth, he tapped it against the stone. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I never married?”

The wizard shrugged, “I assumed it was because you didn’t know how to dance.”

King Robert smirked, “It wasn’t because of a lack of interest on my part, Chuck. I just believed it would draw my attention away from where I was supposed to be. Away from what I was supposed to do.” He gritted his teeth, “I always wanted a family. Someone to love and to hold, to care for and laugh with. To have children of my own, to raise and to teach.” He paused again, “Instead, I gave my life to this kingdom. More than three human lifetimes for this kingdom!” King Robert frowned, “You never asked me why, Chuck. Not even once.”

Chuck opened his mouth, but the he held up his hand.

“I have done these things and held to my faith, because a great man taught me that’s what you do. When all the odds seem impossible, when the deck is stacked against you…you stand your ground. Stand your ground and do your duty!”

The wizards slid the end of his pipe back in between the teeth of a wide grin. “Your father would be proud of the man you’ve become, Robert. Your wisdom and sacrifice…has grown to rival that of High King Gaston, himself.” He poked the King Robert in the chest with a boney finger, “And I would know.”

“I believe you. Always have.”

“I’m not infallible, my boy. No matter what you may believe about me—I can still screw things up. Remember that. Don’t pin all your hopes on me.” He glared at the King, “Do you hear me, young man?”

King Robert snapped at attention and gave a salute. “Yes, SIR!”

Chuck rolled his eyes, “I’m serious. There are things in motion even you might doubt possible. Things I cannot divulge, I’m afraid…and for the first time in my painfully long life, Robert, I am truly afraid.”

But the King only smiled and reached over, squeezing the old wizards shoulder. “My dearest friend, that only proves you are human after all.”

****

Even amidst the rowdy festivities, people fell silent and bowed respectfully as Lady Tamorah passed. She walked alone, holding a small plate and goblet in her hands. The evening breeze blew the dark cloak aside revealing the feminine sway to her stride. Firelight cast a soft glow over her curves. Dark eyes and full lips upon an oval face smiled back at those around her, perfectly shaped for captivating conversations. Men gaped in awe, women looked on in envy…and some drooled stew from their bottom lips.

Embroidered leaves of gold reflected the flickering light, accenting her green and brown blouse, the symbol of an Evolu tracker. Her brown leggings tucked snuggly into soft knee high boots.

Tamorah had been searching every remote corner and shadow, looking.

“May I?”

She sat down next to Dax before he could answer. He immediately turned his back, bringing the plate closer to his face. He shoveled food into his mouth rapidly, hardly chewing between swallows.

“Dax,” she said politely.

“Tam,” he garbled between mouthfuls.

She looked over once, then a second time. Her expression softened.

“Dax…”

He flinched, but kept chewing. He kept his eyes focused on the inhabitants of Til-Thorin, careless in their merrymaking.

“Your mother,” she hesitated, “…she…missed you…”

Flipping his plate onto the ground, Dax marched off without looking back.

He shoved his way through the crowd until he disappeared from sight. People stared back at the Evolu maiden.

“…as do I,” Tamorah muttered to herself.

She continued to pick at her food quietly, breaking off small pieces of bread and dipping them in her stew. Uncomfortable, she turned from the attention and looked to the sky.

****

On the west battlements, Dax took advantage of the night air and seclusion. For nearly an hour he sat alone, staring upward.

It’s morning back home, he thought to himself. The sun is already rising above the endless valley.

Soldiers and wandering villagers continued to keep their distance from him out of fear, rather than respect. A few guards huddled near the far tower, enjoying ale while letting young ladies try on their helmets and shoot arrows towards the stables. Dax made a mental note to report them when he was done sulking.

Why did she have to show up? he wondered. Things were just starting to feel…bearable.

He heard the foot falls behind him. Silent to humans, of course, but not to one of their own. Having immensely huge ears didn’t hurt, either.

Tamorah’s warm hand was gentle on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean to offend you, little brother.”

“Half-brother,” he grunted back, folding his arms with a scowl.

Tamorah withdrew her hand, folding her own arms in irritation. “I have never considered you less than my own flesh and blood!”

Dax glared back at her, hot with anger, but he knew he was wrong. Next to his own mother, only two ever stood up for him in Evolu society: Tamorah and her older brother Ondi. He immediately felt ashamed and his rigid stare caved.

“I’m sorry Tam.”

“You can’t keep running from your problems, Dax. Not when there are people who love you and want to help you.”

A measure of the snarl returned to his face, “That’s funny, comin from you. I seem ta recall a beautiful young maiden with one foot in the land of her people an’ the other in the land o’ strangers.”

Tamorah averted her eyes.

“You spend more time with humans than ya do with yer own people, little sister—turning yer back on everything you were meant ta be!”

Tamorah dropped her arms to her side. “Ouch. Time to leave.”

“Wait…wait, Tam!” Dax grabbed her hand, “I didn’t mean for it ta come out that way. It’s just—where I’m shunned, you choose ta avoid our society. You turn yer back! It doesn’t make any sense!! Doncha ever feel the pains o’ time, that all its treasures’re passin ya by?”

The smooth features of her face cracked with lines as she frowned, “You expect me to live my life in the courts, entertaining diplomats and watching our generations fall to pride? To insatiable appetites and prejudice against other races of light?”

Dax rolled his eyes. “Oh common Tam, ya lead these men without fear and yer the first gal in the history of our people ta lead the Rook! You don’t fear nobady—least of all the attitudes or bravado twits of the courts. I know you Tam. You long ta be loved, ta be cared for, ta be listened to and ta be understood! Regardless of this fearless act ya put on, you are a woman with a heart aching ta be found out. Fairy farts, Tam! We both crave it, but you run from it!”

Tamorah flinched at his words.

Dax stood up and grabbed her hand before she could back away.

“Ya won’t fail, Tam.” He tried to smile up at her, “That’s you’re secret. The chains that hold ya back. No, don’t pull away. For once, please…listen ta me. The god’s didn’t bring ya this far for you to fail!”

She scoffed, “When did you start believing in the gods?”

Dax shrugged, “I never said I didn’t believe in ‘em.” Dark brows rolled froward, hovering thickly over squinting eyes, “…I just don’t believe they give a rat spit about me, that’s all. But my amazing, beautiful, intelligent sister? That’s another matter altogether.”

Kneeling down, Tamorah threw her arms around her older brother, much to his surprise.

Dax flailed and struggled to get free, but she squeezed harder as he tried to pull away.

She held him tight.

After a few moments, he stopped struggling.

…then he hugged her back.