Thomas

An old man sat in his favorite bar enjoying the warmth of the fire and the belly full of ale. The mysterious old codger sat listening to the sounds of the youthful when he overheard them uttering stories at first he paid them no mind. Until one of the drunken wordsmiths mentioned the Conqueror of Terros, this made the curmudgeon old recluse smiled a toothless grin behind his stained and silver beard. He ruminated silently allowing the man to continue his story as he quenched his thirst with another round of ale. The ancient man had to turn his head so his good ear could better hear the tale teller. His clouded blue unseeing eyes gleamed with curious wonder as one of the story tellers regaled the crowd telling this tale,

“The Silent Hero showed up in the Bar of Thornstone, everyone knows that Thornstone is a placed filled with bandits and thieves. He walked into the bar and asked his one question. “Where is the Conqueror of Terros?” The merchant began to speak when the murmur in the room was silenced with a loud Thump. A large man dressed all in black his fist the source of the Thunderous sound. He looked at the stranger and spoke in a deep raspy voice, “So you’re the Silent Stranger, the Peoples Champion?” Laughter filled the room as the gang of degenerates rallied around their leader. “I bet you are so scared if you turn around and look at me you’ll be crying!” As the raucous laughter blossomed in the room the Silent stranger turned to face the mob of cackling low lives. His icy blue stare shimmered with a fire from hell sending shivers throughout the whole room no one could escape the silence he exuded. As the silence filled the room even the rasping breaths of the snoring drunk seized as the stranger’s face contorted into a sneering smile. The frightened thug moved towards the smirking hero. The lumbering mountain thrust his colossal fist straight for the stranger’s face, with lightning speed the stranger avoided the attempted assault and knocked the hulking man off his feet and onto the hard-wooden floor. The room shook with the force of the blow sending concussion waves throughout the audience. His lightning speed and gentle grace surprised the enormous man as well as the other patrons of the bar. The stranger then straitened up, he looked up at the mob sneering at him, with cold steel gaze the Stranger just smiled and tipped his hat to the challenge. Their leader struggling to his feet grunting and groaned he shook his bulky melon head in disbelief. The Stranger removed his weathered large billed hat and worn leather jacket. He gracefully folded his coat and gently placed it upon the seat he once occupied. The Stranger wiped the dust from his hands the clapping echoed off the silent walls as the patrons looked on with wild fascination.

“The insolence of this man how dare he disrespect the ‘Bloodletters’, A patron hiding in the shadows murmured this into the crowd causing a ruckus to develop like a swell of the ocean gentle then deafening. The room bursts into a brawl the first wet smack was given by the gangs’ leader as he surprised the Stranger with a left hook to the jaw. Thomas took the hit without a sound or a grunt, he simply wiped the blood from his mouth, when his hand left his mouth a smile filled with bleeding teeth replaced the serious look upon the Stranger’s face. With a swift strike, the Stranger broke the Leader’s nose, the blood gushing from his face causing the brute to collapse to his knees. His sobs of pain drowned out by people screaming, the bandit’s bodies flying here and there. The scene erupted into a chaotic mess so many people shoving and flailing, the Silent stranger barely moved he stood vigilant and stoic as the room exploded. As the scapegraces of the bar surrounded him he quickly devastated each foe with little effort and maximum speed. Once the whole room was dispatched the stranger then sat at the bar for a drink and the answer to his question “Where is the Conqueror of Terros?

The story teller stopped and looked at the weathered and blind old man sitting by the warm hearth. With realization in his eyes the Story teller spoke.

“I do believe he will be here in a fort night, he travels to Terros in search of the Champion who lived to tell his tale of Terros.”

The old man chuckled and continued to sip his Ale and smoke his pipe. Billows of blue white smoke curled and teased the old man’s mead stained beard.

“When the boy comes tell him I have been waiting.” Was all the old man said and with that he finished his ale with a loud slurp, a puff of smoke was all he left behind as he wordlessly moved towards the exit. The crowd chittering and chatting about the new evidence that The Conqueror of Terros was here all along, the Silent Hero will finally meet the conqueror for an epic moment. Will the people’s hero finally find what he was looking? Will The hero’s thirsty soul be quenched? Will he find what he seeks in his meeting of the Conqueror of Terros? The murmuring people of the Tavern decided to see this adventure through. Patrons flooded the inn each sharing tales of the colossus legend the Conqueror of Terros and the Myth of the silent man, not a soul in the kingdom would miss such a phenomenal event. This was the stuff of legends, each patron craved to get a taste of such heroes of old, this was their chance to be part of history. The owner beamed with glee as his coin purse burst forth with gold, the inn was full.

Thomas navigated his way to the Town of Terros where the deadly Mountain looms over ominously, teasing Thomas with the ideals of heroism and victory. Thomas looked at the horizon as the immense elevation loomed in the distance, his heart beat deafeningly now that he was so close to his conquest. As Thomas negotiated his way through the empty streets his mind began to wander to discouraging thoughts; Will he finally meet up with the Conqueror of Terros or will he be greeted with disappointment once again? Thomas decided he cared not, Terros was his journey the Conqueror was just a means to the end, he was here to defeat Terros, Thomas stopped and looked at the town something felt wrong about the empty streets and deserted homes. Terros’s small homes and meager shops sat quietly as the sun slinked delicately in the horizon. Thomas dismissed his feeling of unrest and headed for the lit windows of the inn. His aching body called out for relief, his eyes burned from days without sleep always traveling further with no end on the horizon. Rest was calling for him, her sweet song like a long-lost lullaby lulled Thomas to the realm of dreams where he slept.

The old man, with the toothless grin and a cloud of smoke about his head lumbered into the bar a fort night from his last visit. He sat in his customary spot, just left of the hearth to warm his bones, he ordered his hot cider and whiskey. The bar maid handed him his steaming cider and cold whiskey, as she turned to leave with her chair the old man held her hand gently and said, “when the silent stranger comes. I am he, the conqueror of Terros.”

The bar maid jerked her hand free and stepped back in fear of the conqueror of Terros, she looked upon the old man and realized he was harmless. As the maid moved through the bar each patron she passed asked her why she looked troubled they all got the same answer, “He’s the Conqueror of Terros,” The maid whispered her response just barely audible over the rooms ambient sounds. Everyone now knew who the mysterious old man was and why he came to this bar. The room slowly moved their eyes to the old coot’s seat beside the hearth. They all sat in stunned disbelief, the old bag of bones chuckled under his breath and thought to himself, Now the fun begins.

Thomas opened the bar door with a gentle push of this palm, he scanned the room his piercing blue eyes devouring the information the room had to offer. The smallest of chatter began as he stepped deeper into the bar, He could feel the eyes of each patron burning into his flesh. The sound of murmuring and gasps as he moved about the room disheartened Thomas. Feeling road weary, Thomas, acquired a seat at a table near the hearth and ordered a hot meal and a mug of mead. The warmth of the fire melted the pain from his bones, the maid returned with the mead, before she could leave he spoke one last question to her, the maid’s heart stopped in anticipation.

“Have you seen the conqueror of Terros?” His voice sounded like leather and sand existed within his throat, the sound was only a whisper, but the ferocity and strength of the sound astonished the maid as his whisper sent shivers down her delicate spine. The whole bar fell silent, each soul held their breath. This pivotal moment was the one conjured up in legends and myths, no one dare miss this. The Champion of the People and The Conqueror of Terros together at last. The people of the bar felt pins and needles as the heavy anticipation filled the room, they all waited for the bar maid to reply.

The bar maid feeling like the herald from a fairytale stood tall straitening her back, she smiled. This was her chance to be part of a legend to be the one to consolidate the meeting of the two heroes sitting in the small towns bar. The bar maid nodded to the corner by the fire. The words her heart ached to mention left her silent, her job finished she strolled off regaining her tongue she whispering to each patron tidbits of information about the silent man, she made her way to the bar to complete Thomas’s order. With this latest information Thomas felt as if he had finished it, the weight of his journey and the unknown of it all left Thomas feeling unencumbered and free. All his trials and tribulations the blood he shed as well as the pain he carried, transported him here. In this insignificant town his destiny has begun, Thomas thought happily, my adventure awaits.

Thomas looked over at the old man in disbelief. As he scanned the old geezer’s small decrepit frame, clouded and blue unseeing eye, stained beard, and toothless grin His thoughts raced, How could a blind old man conqueror the Terros? In disbelief Thomas’s heart began to break as he continued his thought path, “The demons there would have ripped him apart. Thomas was stunned and felt as if all was for not. So, with a heavy heart Thomas picked up his mug and asked the old man if he may join him. How could he have been so wrong about this hero, his hero of Terros. Is it possible that no one survived the terrors of Terros? The old man grunted in the affirmative to Thomas’s request yet never took his eyes from the crackling fire place. Thomas sat silent for a moment His intelligent mind racing with questions and words he wanted to utter but only silence sat between the two men. Thomas just sat looking over this decrepit old man with disbelief and anger. How could he learn to defeat Terros with this old goat leading the way? These men sat both knowing one of them is at the end of his journey as the other is just beginning.

“Hello boy, why are you looking for me?”

The question was curt and straight forward breaking the air of silence that surrounded them. Every patron strained to hear the conversation between these two legends. No one interrupted, their breaths shallow and weak as they sat watching the story unfold. Thomas looked up from his drink as the old man grumble his question. The old man punctuated his question with a large cloud of smoke aimed at Thomas. The old man waited cold grey eyes locked on Thomas, although his eyes had no sight Thomas felt the old man staring him down and collecting visions unseen. Thomas finally spoke breaking the newly formed silence between them.

“Sir, I want to conquer Terros, I want to win the mountain for my mother and Annalise.” Thomas spoke with all seriousness in his voice he meant what he spoke.

The old man’s eyebrow rose in an accusatory look of disproval.

“Annalise, eh, looks like your looking to impress a girl, is her heart available? Does she long for you to be by her side? Tell me boy why should I help you for a woman?”

The old man’s words struck Thomas with as much force as the strongest attack, Thomas glowered into his mug and whispered holding back a fountain of tears his soul longed to shed.

“Annalise will never be mine for she belongs to another.” Thomas let one tear fall down his rugged face. The old man snorted he felt no pity or pain for his new friend’s plight.

“Not a good enough reason, a taken woman, no I will not lead you to death for that. Convince me otherwise or stay here and rot.”

As the old man spat the final words at Thomas in disgust he struggled to move out of the wooden chair and out of the bar. The old man was disappointed in this boy who they call hero. Thomas stumbled over a response to the old man, Thomas’s words were lost as he tried to explicate himself to this angry old curio, the old man bested Thomas with his words and Thomas knew he was defeated.

The old man did not wait for Thomas to reply he simple got up with a groan and a curse as he left the bar and Thomas all alone. How can a man be a hero if he has nothing to live for? The old man contemplated this query, he moved out of the bar still heavy in thought of this boy with nothing to live for.

Thomas sat dumbstruck for a moment this old grouchy codger is the Conqueror of Terros. How can this be? He was supposed to be a mountainous man filled with vim and vigor, in his place was a pile of bones and a craggy defiance.

Thomas quickly scrambled to his feet finally waking from his disbelief, he leapt from the wooden seat past the table as he watched the old man depart. Thomas threw the gold on the counter for the bar keep as he raced to catch the old man who vanished into the chilly night air. Thomas made quick work of catching the old man, his slow warbled gate was no match for Thomas’s swift and graceful steps. The two men now walking side by side silently listening to the tap of feet upon the cobbled streets. As they traveled on, the sound blossomed into a dry crunch of the dead and dying leaves of the harvest season. The songs final verse faded out with the soft wet dampening sound of earth beneath their feet as they were leaving, it all fell silent.

The old man said nothing, although grunts and groans fell from his lips not another word followed, the twisted and thick muscles of the old man’s legs led Thomas through this unknown path to the home of the conqueror of Terros, far outside of the town. The old man, though he wobbled as he stepped and groaned with each hop led Thomas through a dense and disorientating forest. Each twist and turn was carefully executed with tottering limbs and aching bones the old man led on. The journey though the rough seemed to last an eternity. The Forest was a never ending, smothering creature that was more alive than Thomas could fathom. Each step the earth shuttered with the living creatures scurrying under foot feeding on the decay of the dying forest. Finally, Thomas spoke, “Sir where are you leading me?” Thomas’s voice cracked with the slightest of dread and concern. His heart thundered in his head, He was deafened with the sound of his anxiety.

The old man stopped abruptly feeling the fear rise in Thomas he spoke to ease Thomas and to remind him of his place,

“I am leading you nowhere, I am only going home. You have not convinced me that you have a reason to live, not just a reason to die. I will lead no one to death but I will help you live.”

With these words, he continued into the heavily wooded forest ahead He twisted and turned like a leaf floating on the autumn breeze. Thomas nearly missed as the old man disappeared in the trees. Abandoned Thomas was left feeling confused and hurt questioning everything, what am I fighting for. Who am I fighting for? Why am I fighting? Thomas’s mind raced with fear and hate. He saw the face of Sir Deter flushed with passion as he looked upon the Angel Annalise her face awash with tears she cries out to Thomas. He asks the earth and sky tilting his head towards the heavens he opens his mouth to speak,

“Am I looking for death? Will you find me sweet death or shall we battle no more.” The earth stood still listening to Thomas then the wind blew and the scent of Lilacs lingered in the autumn breeze a reminder and a promise. Thomas’s mind swam with the vow he made the promise to his earnest heart, then in a flash of awareness Thomas ran after the old man. Thomas stood at the Old man’s threshold his head held high, his stubborn chin frozen in a tenacious gaze, He placed his callused, parched and aching hands in large fists at his side and he proudly proclaimed.

“I am Thomas son of Mary a kitchen maid in the Kingdom of Lord Ezekiel and Lady Annalise. I am here to learn how to defeat Terros so that I may live to be a great man and show my mother I could be her hero.”

As Thomas spoke these words out loud at the edge of the old man’s property a single tear rolled down Thomas’s leathered cheek. He had realized true love isn’t always romantic love, but the love a mother has for her son, the honor a son has for a loving mother. Thomas’s heart swelled with thoughts of his young mother and all her sacrifices. Hers was a true love, a pure love.

The Old man turned around and looked unseeing at the epiphany taking place behind Thomas’s eyes, he felt the ice melting on Thomas’s heart, with this he opened the door for Thomas. Thomas had found something to live for a vow and a love. Thomas smiled at the old man as he stepped across the threshold to his new life, his new destiny.