The Sword of Truth

When he went back to the camp, he woke Dina and told her what had happened.

“Did he say anything else?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he answered.

Dina thought for a while. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “The

Spirit Hills are said to be an odd place, haunted even, but I’ve never heard anything like this.”

“What should we do?” Gewey wondered.

“What can we do?” she replied. “I say we get some rest and see what happens. It doesn’t sound like whoever it was is finished with you, but it I don’t see how we can do anything about it.”

The next day, Gewey and Dina hardly spoke a word; the Spirit Hills seemed to be living up to their name. Gewey held tight to his sword, ready to strike at every snap of a twig. Dina continually looked back and forth over her shoulder, expecting to see ghosts emerge from every shadow. As they went deeper into the hills, Gewey could feel the air get thicker. By mid-afternoon, he felt himself struggling to breathe.

“We’re being watched,” Dina whispered.

“From where?” Gewey asked.

“Everywhere,” she replied. “I can feel their eyes on us.”

Suddenly, a voice came from behind them. “Eyes, you say?” Gewey’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. It was the old man. He was sitting on the ground under a tree they had just passed.

“Not eyes,” said the old man. His voice was mirthful, and he was still wearing his animal skins. His walking stick lay across his lap. “No, not eyes. But they see you. Of course they do.”

“Who sees us?” asked Gewey. “Who’s out there?”

The old man laughed heartily. “A child of heaven you are,” said the old man to Gewey. “You walk the Spirit Hills. They see you. They love you. They want you to stay. But you mustn’t. No, no. They’ll keep you for themselves. But I’ll keep them away. Yes, I’ll threaten to leave them, I will. Leave them alone. No more old man Felsafell to talk to.”

“Is that your name?” Gewey asked. “Felsafell?”

“Yes, my name,” he answered. “I’m at your service. I’ll tell you what you seek to know. But first, you come. We sit and talk. So long since I’ve heard other voices. Welcome they are, to tired ears and blurry eyes.”

Felsafell grabbed his walking stick and hopped to his feet. He walked passed Gewey and Dina, beckoning them to follow. They looked at each other, confused.

“You mustn’t fear,” Felsafell assured them. “I mean no harm. The spirits will obey. They’ll leave you be. Come along now, quickly. An old man must eat and rest.”

Reluctantly, Gewey and Dina followed. Felsafell led them through the hills and valleys for over an hour, until Gewey knew he was hopelessly lost. Finally, as they rounded one of the larger hills, they saw Felsafell’s house.

It looked as if it were built entirely of small twigs and grass. There were two windows covered by cloth curtains, but there was no glass.

Smoke rose from a chimney atop the steep thatched roof, and the air was filled with the scent of bread and meat. A small porch stretched from the front of the house, with three wicker chairs lined up beneath one of the windows.

“We’re here, my friends,” said Felsafell. “Come in. Take food and rest. The spirits are quiet now. They are indeed.”

Felsafell opened the door and showed them in. The interior was simple, much like Gewey’s own home. The walls were lined with tools and animal skins. In the fireplace was a spit where a wild pig slowly roasted. On the table were two large jugs and a loaf of fresh bread. Two beds sat in the corner of the room. A bedroll lay on the ground next to the fireplace.

“Sit and eat,” Felsafell instructed. “Time for talk when our bellies are full. Sit and rest.”

Gewey and Dina sat at the table while Felsafell ran to the corner and brought back three cups. He filled the cups with cider, then went to the roasting pig and began cutting off large slices and putting them on a platter.

“A simple meal of meat and bread,” said Felsafell as he brought the platter to the table and sat down. “No fancy things, you know. But I have all that is needed.”

“Thank you,” said Gewey graciously. “Roast pig and bread is most welcome.”

Felsafell smiled broadly, showing a mouthful of crooked teeth.

“Too kind,” he said. “I’ll try hard to speak as men do. So long with the ghosts and spirits. No voice but old Felsafell’s to keep me company.”

“How long have you been here?” asked Dina, tearing off a piece of bread.

“Questions later, dear friends,” Felsafell replied. “Questions after food and rest. An old man can travel far, but not forever. No he can’t.”

After they ate, Felsafell poured a cup of cherry wine from the second jug and passed it around. For a while he closed his eyes, humming softly and holding the cup in both hands. Gewey noticed the light through the window beginning to dim as evening drew near.

“Time for rest,” said Felsafell. “You take the beds. Old Felsafell sleeps by the fire. But don’t you worry. We will speak before the dawn.”

Dina and Gewey lay down in the beds, which were remarkably soft and comfortable. Felsafell lay down on the bedroll in front of the fire and fell fast asleep in seconds.

“What do you think?” Gewey whispered. “Is he crazy?”

“Maybe,” Dina answered. “But I don’t think he’s dangerous. Still, we should be wary.”

Gewey nodded in agreement. He tried to stay awake, but it wasn’t long before a full stomach and a soft bed got the better of him.

“Rested enough my friend,” said Felsafell, shaking Gewey softly. “Time for questions. Time for answers.”

Felsafell walked across the room and opened the front door. “On the porch we’ll talk. All your answers are out here.”

Gewey heard Felsafell walk across the porch and sit in one of the chairs. He took a deep breath and got out of bed. Dina was still sleeping soundly. He approached the open door and peered out. Felsafell was seated, smoking a pipe, and gazing into the night. “Time for answers, child of heaven.”

Chapter 15

Gewey pulled out a chair across from Felsafell and sat down. The old man had a quirky smile. The pipe filled the night air with a sweet odor that reminded Gewey of his father, who had himself smoked a pipe on occasion. “It’s answers you seek,” Felsafell began. “Yet you don’t know all the questions.”

“Why did you call me ‘child of heaven’?” asked Gewey. “What do you know about me?”

“I know many things. The spirits are clever. They share with old Felsafell the things they know. Yes, they do indeed. They say the earthbound son of two shepherds comes to visit. They say he needs to know things. Things known by none.”

“What do I need to know?” Gewey asked impatiently.

“Your strength,” Felsafell replied. “You do not know it. From the earth it comes, and there you’ll find it. Your father left it there.”

“My father? Do you know who he is?”

Felsafell nodded. “A farmer, of course. Just like you. He left his land in your care. Search the earth and find your strength.”

“I don’t understand,” Gewey said. “Where exactly should I search?”

“Old Felsafell is not the source,” he answered. “The spirits are a tricky lot. What they say may not be what they mean. But more there is to tell before the dawn greets us. Though dawn is not what it used to be.”

“Tell me, then,” Gewey urged him.

Felsafell smiled. “Of course, the young are always full of haste. But hurry you must, for the darkness comes. It closes the eyes and deafens the ears. The spirits fear it will be their end. They see as their doom