The Mask Wearer (8 page)

Just as Amos finished talking, the blind cat jumped from the highest shelf of the library and landed directly on the table. He grabbed the stone between his teeth and rushed toward the exit.

“I’m going to reduce you to pulp,” Beorf shouted after it. “You creepy animal!”

He morphed into his bear form and set off in pursuit of the cat, who shot up the ladder and slipped through the trapdoor. Beorf fell twice as he tried to climb after it. The first time, he fell on his backside; the second time, on his nose. The third time, he made it. Amos quickly grabbed his belongings, stuck the book
Al-Qatrum, the Territories of Darkness
under his arm, slung his trident over his shoulder, and climbed the ladder himself. Once outside, he followed Beorf’s pawprints. The trail led straight to Bratel-la-Grande.

To Amos’s surprise, the portcullis that protected the city was still open in spite of the mid-morning hour. But there were no peasants in the fields. Immediately Amos expected the worse. When he entered the capital, his fears were confirmed. He was aghast to see that all the dwellers had been turned to stone. The curse had spared no one.

Amos ran toward the Shield and the Sword. On his way, he met only petrified beings, their faces marked by fright. At the inn’s door he was confronted by a painful sight—a motionless Barthelemy. Amos looked in vain for his parents. He kept hoping that he would find them safe and sound: Urban and Frilla knew the power of the gorgons and had no doubt escaped in time. But when he heard the shouts of a bear in distress, he remembered Beorf and hurried in the direction of the marketplace.

The humanimal was the prisoner of huge roots. They were wrapped around his paws, body, and throat. Amos didn’t understand what had happened. How could roots have grown so fast as to immobilize his friend? Taking hold of his trident, Amos tried to free Beorf, when suddenly the voice of an old man stopped him.

“It’s no use trying to liberate your friend, Mr. Daragon. The strength of one root is equal to the power of the druid who made it grow. And although I don’t want to brag about it, a dozen or more woodcutters using heavy axes would not be able to cut these roots off.”

Amos turned his trident nervously toward the man. His challenger had a long and dirty gray beard. His hair was also very long and tangled with twigs, dead leaves, and hay. He was wearing a brown robe, stained and threadbare. Wooden clogs, a belt made of braided vines, and a long twisted walking stick completed his attire. A huge red mushroom was growing from his neck, and his hands were covered with the kind of moss that usually covers boulders. The blind cat was at his feet, rubbing his head against the man’s legs.

“Stop threatening me with your weapon, young man! You scare me! Oh! You scare me so much!” the old druid said, laughing. “Let us talk a little instead. I must know if you are worthy of the trust Crivannia put in you before she died.”

Amos was not listening to him. “Your cat stole my white stone and I want it back right now!” he yelled.

The old man seemed surprised by Amos’s assertive tone. “Mr. Daragon is very demanding,” he snickered. “He gives me orders and threatens me with his ivory trident! It is indeed a dangerous weapon, but since it’s obvious that you don’t know how to use it properly, I don’t fear for my life.”

The druid opened his hand and Amos saw that the white stone lay between his dirty fingers.

“You already know my cat, I think,” the druid went on. “I’ve been observing you through his eyes for quite a while. You’re clever, my dear boy. I can feel your question coming: Why is this cat sometimes blind and sometimes not? Good question, Mr. Daragon! I’ll answer you now. When I look through his eyes, he’s not blind. It’s as simple as that. One more question? Yes! Am I the magician of darkness who looks for his pendant and reigns over the army of gorgons? No, Mr. Daragon, I told you, I am a druid. A druid who’s a little bit dirty, I reckon; a druid who does not always smell good, I agree; but I’m not nasty and I don’t work for the forces of darkness. Neither do I work for the forces of light. You’ll understand later on. Ah, really! You’ve another question! What am I doing here, at this hour and on this very day in the center of a city where people are now statues and with your white stone in my hand? I’ll come to that. In the meantime, be patient! It’s your turn
to answer my questions. I want to know if you’re intelligent enough to become a mask wearer.”

“Free Beorf first,” Amos demanded. “Then I’ll answer your questions.”

The druid smiled. His teeth were yellow, rotten, and wobbly. With a twitch of his nose, the old man called off the curse in order to gain Amos’s trust. The roots that had ensnared the humanimal fell softly to the ground and dried up instantly.

“Think fast, young friend,” said the old man. “What goes over a house once and not twice?”

“Simple! An egg,” Amos answered without hesitating. “Thrown by someone, it could easily fly over a house, but I doubt that it could jump anywhere but in a frying pan after landing.”

The old man seemed surprised by Amos’s confident answer.

“I always start with an easy one to warm up a bit,” he went on. “The next one is more difficult. What animal can go over a house but cannot cross a puddle of water?”

“You think that’s more difficult?” Amos burst out laughing. “It’s much easier than the other. An ant, of course.”

The druid was becoming agitated. He had never met someone endowed with such a quick mind.

“Good luck with this one!” he said. “What goes around wood without ever entering it?”

“The bark,” Amos answered, sighing with exasperation. “Too easy, much too easy!”

“The next is my best one! Listen carefully!” the druid went on, sure of the difficulty of his next riddle. “What gives shade in the forest without ever being there?”

Amos laughed. “The sun gives shade in the forest without ever being there! Since you think that you’re so clever, answer this: The more of them there are, the less it weighs: what is it?”

The druid thought for a moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “What is it?”

“I’ll tell you after you explain to me what you’re doing here.”

“You swear you’ll tell me, Mr. Daragon?” inquired the old man anxiously.

“You have my word!” Amos answered.

“Very well, then, very well. To make a complicated story simple, I came here to look into the events of the past few weeks, specifically related to Yaune the Purifier and the pendant. I was much helped by what you read yesterday. I was reading the same lines as you were through the eyes of my cat. My druid order is of the opinion that the pendant is dangerous and that it ought not to fall into the wrong hands. This is why, when Yaune and his army were turned to stone during the night, I stole his pendant—so the gorgons could not hand it over to their master. As you can see, Mr. Daragon, I’m a powerful druid, but I must not in any way be implicated directly in this affair. I’m a magician of the realm of nature and not a mask wearer. My role is to protect animals and plants, not humans. In this world, two powers are constantly clashing: good and evil, what we call the powers of light and the powers of darkness. From the beginning of time, since the sun and the moon shared the earth, these two powers have been in endless conflict. The mask wearers are humans chosen for
their spiritual and intellectual qualities. Their mission is to restore a balance between day and night, between good and evil. Since it’s impossible to get rid of the sun or the moon, balance has to triumph. Mask wearers disappeared from this world hundreds of years ago. If Crivannia chose you, it’s because she wanted to make you the first of a new generation of warrior men. Your task is to reestablish a fair balance in the world. A huge conflict is brewing. Already the merriens have attacked the mermaids, and soon they’ll seize the oceans. Go as fast as you can to the woods of Tarkasis. Here is your stone back. I entrust you with Yaune’s pendant as well. It is for you to decide whether to return it to its owner or not. It’s your task, not mine. We will surely meet again. Now, may I have the answer to your riddle?”

“I’ll tell you, but before I do, explain to me what a mask wearer is,” Amos asked.

“I can’t answer you, Mr. Daragon,” the druid said sadly. “The more of them there are, the less it weighs: what is it?”

“Holes in a wooden plank,” Amos answered.

The old man laughed heartily and beat on his tummy.

“That’s a good one! Better than any of mine! I’d never have thought of it! Holes in a wooden plank! It’s obvious, the more holes there are, the less it weighs! Take the pendant and the stone. My cat will keep an eye on you. Good-bye and good luck!”

Still laughing, the druid headed toward one of the big trees and vanished through the trunk. Beorf, who had regained his human form, came near his friend and put his arm across Amos’s shoulders.

“I think we’re in trouble,” he said as he stroked the pendant with the tip of his forefinger.

Amos didn’t know what to do. The situation was beyond him.

“I’m out of tricks, Beorf. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this white stone. And I don’t know what to do with this horrible pendant. My parents have disappeared and I have no idea where they could be. I’ve been chosen as a mask wearer, a job I don’t understand.” He sighed. “According to the druid, my ivory trident is a powerful weapon that I don’t know how to use efficiently. And soon an army of gorgons led by an evil sorcerer will be chasing us. We’re in the middle of a capital populated by statues, and I feel sure that the gorgons will come back tonight to search the place. What is to be done to bring balance between good and evil? Is there a way to reverse the curse and bring the people of the realm back to life? They’re paying dearly for the theft of this pendant, and they don’t deserve to remain statues for eternity. I don’t know where to begin or what is the best way to get out of this mess.”

Beorf nodded. “Let’s try to analyze the situation calmly,” he said. “Your mission is, first, to go to the woods of Tarkasis. That’s what you have to do before anything else. If you leave with the pendant, the gorgons will follow you, and curse each of the villages you pass through. I believe that they can feel the pendant’s presence and power. We could try to destroy the pendant, but it may hold some power that we might need. In fact, the magician of darkness came here to retrieve his pendant, and we can’t allow him to leave this territory. I’ll leave signs of my presence and of his piece of jewelry. This
will force the sorcerer to remain within the borders of the realm. We have to find out who he is, where he’s hiding, and how to get rid of him.”

Amos didn’t respond. He was thinking.

“We’ll go our separate ways,” Beorf continued. “I’ll stay here with the pendant. I’m familiar with the fields and the forest. I can hide so that the gorgons won’t find me. And I’ll protect the pendant while you go seek more information about the white stone, about your trident, and about your mission. If you leave now, you’ll have time to get out of the realm before nightfall. Trust me, this is the best plan.”

Amos did not want to leave his friend to face danger alone, and he tried to find another solution, but Beorf’s arguments were solid. Splitting up was the most logical thing to do. So he entrusted the pendant to Beorf and went to the Shield and the Sword to pick up his belongings. Since all the horses had been turned to stone, Amos set out on his journey on foot.

“Well, I’d best be on my way, Beorf,” he said as he took leave of his friend. “Be very careful.”

Beorf smiled. He transformed his right hand into a bear’s paw and displayed his impressive claws.

“Leave the gorgons to me!” he said.

N
early two weeks had gone by since Amos had left Bratel-la-Grande. The journey had been long and exhausting. Not knowing where the woods of Tarkasis were to be found, Amos had to stop and ask many people. Most had never heard the name, or, when they knew something about the woods, it was because of a tale or legend. So Amos went from village to village, sometimes traveling with merchants on their wagons, sometimes with troubadours who were too busy singing and didn’t pay much attention to his questions.

More often alone than with company, Amos had to fend for himself to find things to eat, either in the forest or at peasants’ homes, where he was given food and lodging in exchange for a day’s work in the fields. Mostly he slept by himself in the forest or on the side of seldom-traveled paths. Each day, Amos felt increasingly helpless and regretted that his friend Beorf was not with him. He often thought that
leaving Bratel-la-Grande on his own had been the wrong decision.

Disturbing rumors were spreading everywhere. Among them, it was said that the Knights of Light were under a terrible curse and that their realm was to be avoided at all costs. Villagers were suspicious of strangers and not very welcoming. Amos recognized himself in one of the rumors that warned of a boy who was traveling without his parents. As a result, a lot of people were suspicious of him and plied him with questions.