The Reawakening

“Good and evil only exist in the mind. The greatest good and darkest evil come from the same place. It is up to us to choose which.”

- Master Keiki

The Hooded Lantern was nestled in a copse of ancient oaks. The bustling inn was sequestered a quarter of a mile away from busy traffic of the Trader Way. This main thoroughfare traversed the entire breadth of Tulane, from the mountains of Hitton to the sea of Galesh. During the summer months, the Trader Way saw a constant flow of merchants and the occasional traveler. Many found rest and a bit of warmth at the Hooded Lantern.

Tegain Hostler had lived his entire life working in the Hooded Lantern. His father’s father had opened the Lantern for business over one hundred years ago. Large structures now surrounded the somewhat inadequate inn; these additions had been built through the years to keep up with the increasing traffic. Now the original inn that had accommodated thirty could now comfortably sleep over one hundred and thirty souls.

Tegain’s father, Jacob, had required his son to work every job in the establishment. From stable hand to bookkeeper, he had served in every position of the Hooded Lantern. His father held Tegain’s work to a higher standard than that of any of the hired help. Tegain had spent many hours struggling in vain to outwit his father’s simple directives. Nevertheless, in the end Tegain found the path of least resistance lay in doing what his father had told him. Tegain carried those hard-won lessons with him in his running of the Lantern.

Tegain’s mother, Mina, had left Jacob when Tegain was just a babe. Jacob had not spoken much of Tegain’s mother, only to imply that life at the inn had been too slow for her, which was why she had left when Tegain was just two. Jacob would stare off into the distance, remembering some long ago time. “Don’t you worry yourself about her, son,” he would say. “You’ve got all the family you’ll ever need here in the Lantern.” It was true. The hired help of the inn had all helped in raising little Tegain. However, in those few quiet times alone, Tegain had often wondered what she looked like and where she was.

From an early age, Tegain had enjoyed the many varied guests that had passed through the cozy rooms. Their tales of adventure had always set his imagination on fire. Tales of fighting off bandits and wild beasts had pulled at his heart, but the everyday duties of keeping the inn up and running had buried those feelings over time.

Tegain had lived thirty-six years within the walls of his modest inn. In those thirty-six years, he had seen the world only through the tales of his guests. Tegain had also grown into quite a portly fellow. His wide girth stretched his pure white apron to its limits. Each evening his deep rolling laughter inevitably rumbled through the crowded dining room.

Tegain commanded the common room from behind a huge oak bar carved from a single ancient oak. As his grandfather told the story, lightning had felled the mighty tree one summer night. As further proof, a charred, blackened streak spread across the entire length of the hundred-foot oak. Years of rubbing and layers of polish had made the massive bar gleam in the warm light of the inn. The sight of the bar had set many eyes alight. Tegain always felt a connection to his father and his grandfather whenever he polished the lustrous wood with his clean linen cloth. His warm smile and easy manner enabled many a guarded man to let down his defenses. It was hard not to like Tegain.

Shae could not agree more. She had fallen in love with Tegain the very first time she had laid eyes on him. Of course, he had been much younger and slimmer then. Tegain had been a striking young man. Hours working around the inn had hardened his slightly above average frame. His wide smile and the twinkle in his eye had won her heart the moment Tegain welcomed them to the Hooded Lantern. His good nature and quiet manner had only made her choice easier.

Shae had been travelling with her parents that fateful day they had stopped at the Hooded Lantern. Her parents had finally hired someone to care for the livestock at their farm, while they took their wares to Rytin, the capital city of Tulane. She was just seventeen, but she knew that the handsome man behind the bar would be her husband. Two more years and four more visits to the inn had made her premonition a reality. With every visit, Tegain had presented her with some unique work he had acquired from a travelling merchant. He would comment on how the small treasure had reminded him of her beauty. Shae had spent many wee hours of the morning leaning on the bar talking with Tegain.

The years had been very good to Shae. Her youthful beauty had matured to a womanly refinement that still turned many a man’s head to stare in her direction. However, when they saw her face, as she looked at her husband, they knew. Tegain held her heart, and it could not be in safer hands.

Tegain, too, had fallen hopelessly in love with Shae. After her first visit, he had asked every merchant that passed for his or her most precious wares. Tegain wanted something to match Shae’s beauty from that first night she had stayed late in the common room, and had remained at the bar talking with him. They had talked about all their misadventures, all their hopes, dreams, and fears. They had also spent many quiet moments just staring into each other’s eyes, lost in that bubbly feeling of love. If ever there had been two people that truly loved each other, Tegain and Shae were they.

Her parents still came to visit twice a year during their round trip to the capital of Tulane. Tegain and Shae would put them in their finest room. Even after sixteen years of marriage, he still chased her around the inn’s kitchen like a teenager unless, of course, others were about. Tegain still surprised her with small gifts he purchased from travelling merchants. More than once, she felt he had spent too much for some trinket. He would only reply with a small smile and shrug his shoulders. He showed his love in many ways, but Shae still enjoyed the small treasures Tegain found. She kept them on a shelf in their bedroom. There were nineteen now. A treasure for each trip, those first two years, and one for each year on their anniversary, and the final one for their wonderful daughter Gwyn.

Gwyn, now fifteen, worked the tables serving the myriad folk that stayed in the inn. She had grown into a beautiful young woman like her mother. Being Tegain and Shae’s only child, Gwyn had also lived most of her life in the confines of the Hooded Lantern. She had inherited her father’s warm personality and her mother’s fine features. She worked the many tables with a childlike energy that kept the many patrons smiling and tipping well.

Tegain had not liked the idea of Gwyn working the common room. He and Shae had discussed at length the pros and cons of their daughter working. Tegain did not want his daughter pinched or groped by some of the inn’s known unsavory characters. Shae wanted Gwyn to build a sense of self-worth by working. In the end, she had solved their dilemma. When one of their servers, Sheryl, had ended up too sick to work one evening, Tegain was wondering who would be able to handle a group of raucous mercenaries. Gwyn suddenly picked up the tray of drinks from the bar and began serving the rowdy group of men. Their sly smiles and leering looks became hoots and hollers when she whipped the first groping hand with her wet cleaning cloth. The whip crack from the cloth and the yelp of pain from the man had sent the crew rolling and had gained the new serving woman some respect. Tegain had grunted, and Shae had smiled approvingly.

Life was good for the Holster family. Folks from across Tulane knew of Tegain and the Hooded Lantern, a quiet place tucked away from the bustle of the big cities where a weary merchant or traveler could find a warm fire and a good drink and an even warmer welcome.

“Master Tegain… Master Tegain, it is time.” Hes gently shook Tegain by the shoulder.

“Ugh. So soon, Hes?” questioned Tegain from the depths of the covers. Tegain slowly pulled the covers down off his head and turned two bleary eyes toward Hes’ candlelit form standing by the bed.

“Yes, Master Tegain. The fourth star has set, and the suns will rise in a few hours,” stated Hes in his quiet timbre.

“All right, all right, thank you, Hes. Shae and I will be down shortly.” Tegain heaved a massive sigh and rolled his bulky frame over. He gently nuzzled Shae’s neck. Hes quietly finished lighting the room’s lamp and softly closed the door behind him. Shae struggled to come awake. She stifled a yawn while covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

“So soon?” Shae repeated Tegain’s earlier query.

“Yes, my love. You can stay if you like. Gwyn and I can get the morning chores taken care of while you rest. I will call for you when it is time to start the morning meal,” encouraged Tegain as he softly caressed Shae’s exposed arm.

“No, I am up. I just want to you to stay with me a moment.” Shae grasped Tegain’s caressing hand and pulled it tightly against her chest. “I love you, my handsome man,” purred Shae as she snuggled closer to Tegain.

“I love you too, my mourning dove,” whispered Tegain in reply. They lay there for a few moments more, holding each other in their warm, cozy bed. This was their morning ritual. They shared a few moments of silent peace before the hustle and bustle of running an inn overtook their lives.

“Good morning, Daddy!” greeted Gwyn as Tegain entered the kitchen from the common room. Gwyn had already started preparing biscuits for the morning meal. The small dough balls, arrayed on various baking sheets, were ready for the oven.

“Did you sleep well?” asked Gwyn.

“Yes, I slept well, but not well enough. I should have sent our guest to bed earlier last night,” said Tegain grumpily, as he adjusted his belt around his ample girth.

“It seemed the common room would never retire,” stated Gwyn with a smile as she began placing the full stone trays of dough balls one by one into the massive brick oven in the corner of the kitchen. Tegain picked up the large wooden paddle called a peel to move the trays farther into the oven.

“It was my own doing. I can’t resist a full house enjoying our hospitality. No matter the hour,” added Tegain as he released his breath through his puffed out cheeks. The neatly arrayed trays were now all in the oven, and Tegain closed and locked the heavy brick door. “Well, I need to see to the stables. I will be back shortly to help with the sausage and gravy,” Tegain told Gwyn as he headed to the back door in the southern end of the kitchen.

As he lifted the lantern hanging near the door, Gwyn replied, “Aye, see ya soon, Daddy.” She grinned with her eyes flashing brightly in the lantern light as he stole out into the still-dark morning.

Gwyn’s contagiously good mood always brightened each morning for Tegain. She always seemed to know when he needed a little extra cheering up. Her light step and smiling face seemed to raise even his dourest of moods. He carried the lantern in his outstretched hand. The small pool of light barely illuminated the well-trodden path to the stables. The light was almost unnecessary. Tegain had trod this path every morning for more times than he could remember. He arrived before the ample stable in short order. The stable contained enough stalls for thirty beasts of burden.

Hes and Jon were already cleaning stalls in the far end of the building. Jon and Hes Frenton had worked for Tegain for over four years now. Both brothers were large, burly men with good hearts. Jon and Hes’ main job was to handle all the heavy lifting required on the premises. They also stood watch in the common room. They would position themselves at either end of the large oak bar in the main room every evening, like two huge pillars. Their mere presence had prevented many an outbreak of violence at the Hooded Lantern.

“Hail, Tegain. Did ye rest well?” queried Jon cheerily from the stall on the right. Hes’ head popped up from a stall on the left with a wide grin. Hes had obviously relayed the present condition of their employer to Jon. The two brothers could hardly resist giving anyone a good ribbing. They could beset anyone with a relentless barrage of quick quips coming from both sides of a room. Tegain was glad Gwyn had already improved his mood.

“Aye, like a stone,” replied Tegain.

“Rolling down a steep hill,” added Hes in a not too quiet whisper as he bent back down to work. Jon chuckled and whispered something over to Hes. Then Hes chuckled as well.

Tegain smirked and shook his head. “I would have to agree. Do you two gentlemen need a hand with anything?” asked Tegain.

“No, Master Tegain. We have fed and watered all the animals. Just need to finish the stalls and take the horses out to work them in the round pen for a bit. Thank you for your offer,” answered Jon between heaving shovels into the cart in the middle aisle of the barn. Tegain smiled to himself. If he could have sons, Tegain could not think of any two better men. Tegain knew their good-humored jibes were how the two tough brothers showed their love.

“All right, I will leave you two gentlemen to it, then. Breakfast will be ready when you’re finished,” Tegain said as he turned to head back to the kitchen. The two men grunted an “aye” as they hurried to finish. Hes and Jon always enjoyed large portions of any meal.

As Tegain entered the inn’s kitchen, the smell of spicy sausage cooking over the stove greeted him. “Mmm, mmm, smells delicious,” said Tegain as he hung the lantern on the hook next to the door. Gwyn was laboring over a particularly large skillet of seasoned sausage, while Shae worked at preparing the peppered gravy stock for the morning meal. “Am I in time to taste test?” asked Tegain.

“When is it never a good time to taste?” Shae retorted.

“Hmm, good point. I would have to say…Hmm, let me think now. Never!” exclaimed Tegain with sudden surprise as he raised a meaty finger in triumph.

“Just as I thought. Let us finish here. Could you check the biscuits in the oven? I think they may be close to being done,” requested Shae.

“Hmph. A mere distraction from the inevitable,” sighed Tegain as he retrieved the peel hanging next to the oven. A quick peek into the oven revealed the golden brown biscuits ready for rescue. In no time, Tegain had all the biscuits out of the oven and placed into covered baskets. “Ok. Now where was I?” announced Tegain.

“My goodness, did you burn yourself in your haste to finish the biscuits?” Shae gasped.

“If I did, I wouldn’t know it. That sausage and gravy smells divine,” replied Tegain. He stood behind Shae and Gwyn with a big grin on his face.

“Oh, go ahead and see if it tastes good enough to serve,” conceded Shae. Tegain leaned in as Shae proffered a spoon with a dab of gravy on it. He blew on the steamy morsel before sucking it from the spoon.

“And?” the women asked in unison.

Tegain stood with his eyes closed, savoring the creamy feel and spicy taste of his prize. “MMM, mmm, mmm, deeevine. I do so love breakfast.”

“Breakfast,” said Gwyn.

“Lunch,” seconded Shae.

“And dinner,” finished Tegain. They all shared a good laugh together. The rest of the morning passed much like every morning at the Hooded Lantern. The serving of guests and the daily upkeep kept them all busy until after the evening meal.

With dinner preparations completed, Tegain began his nightly duties behind the common room’s bar. The evening had passed like any other. Tegain stood silently behind the smooth bar, backing the southern wall, polishing the already shining surface with his immaculate white linen rag. Sixteen tables were neatly arranged in the main room. Each large maple table was round, with eight matching chairs. A crackling fire warmed the hearth that dominated the eastern wall of the room. The stone of the hearth, imported from the quarries of Talenshan, was an exquisite deep bluish green. The stone had a marbled texture that displayed a unique design to any who chose to stare into the polished depths. The floor of the inn consisted of light colored pine planks, set in an off set pattern, running from east to west. At least one patron was seated at each perfectly round table. Merry folks enjoying a brief respite and a hearty meal packed many of the tables. The warm lantern light lit the entire inn with a soft glow in the early evening. The smoke of a few pipes drifted gently up to the ceiling, and the low hum of pleasant conversation carried softly throughout the space. A young man had brought his flute and was playing a quiet tune from one of the many tables.

With the chime of a small brass bell, which hung on a woolen string in front of the main door, the entrance of another customer was proclaimed. Tegain glanced up from his work to see a heavily cloaked figure enter through the large single oaken front door. Heavy folds of the sodden brown hood obscured his features in darkness. Droplets of water streamed down from his garments, quickly forming puddles on the floor. The weather had threatened rain most of the day. Now it seemed with the coolness of the night the rain had arrived in earnest. Before the heavy door banged closed, a brief flash of lightning silhouetted the dark-robed man.

Thunder boomed suddenly as the stranger took his first step. The patrons of the Hooded Lantern all became aware of the newcomer. Heads turned in unison to the door. The figure seemed to grow taller with the stares. A quiet hush enveloped the common room. He stood there for some moments before Tegain was able to find his own voice. In the momentary lull, his voice seemed quite loud.

“Welcome, friend!” said Tegain with his usual good-natured baritone.

Silence was the return. The usual noise of the inn resumed within moments, but that slight moment of hesitation was enough to give Tegain a sense of unease. The stranger began to move toward the bar. The folds of his heavy robe hid his feet and hands entirely. He seemed to float across the floor toward the bar.

Patrons had been telling tales of strange happenings from the time the earth had shook some weeks ago. Animals with strange wounds had been found recently. Holes had been burned cleanly through them, or their carcasses cut into pieces. Many travelers told tales of the coming of the end of the world. Tegain had heard them all many times before. Each time some strange thing happened, people seemed to like to incite fear in their fellow man, but never had the tales held such detail.

By now, Tegain had become concerned; his father had warned him to be wary of the silent types. Tegain slowly moved his hands down to grasp the solid shaft of the club kept behind the bar. In his nineteen years of running the Hooded Lantern, Tegain had used the weapon sparingly, and then only when the foolish became too drunk to control themselves during the occasional brawl. Tegain was more than capable of tossing out any ruffian and a few had discovered the hard way that strength hidden beneath his portly facade.

He motioned with his eyes and a tilt of his head for Gwyn to head to the kitchen located on the west side of the room. Gwyn, accustomed now to the workings of the inn, complied with a quick nod and headed straightaway to her mother in the kitchen. Tegain then glanced to each side at Jon and Hes. Each gave a nod of readiness. They knew something was not right with this mysterious stranger.

The Frenton brothers would rather give you a smile and a hearty handshake than toss you bodily from the front steps of the Hooded Lantern. However, if Tegain gave the word, Jon and Hes would take great pleasure in removing the offending party from the bar. The brothers kept a mark out in the front lawn for the farthest toss of an unruly patron. Hes was the current mark holder. From the front steps, he had launched a young drunkard a full ten feet before he came to rest in a heap. The bothers now sized up the newcomer, each brother trying to gauge how far he could hurl him.

The dark fellow glided up to the bar and stood there silently.

“May I help you?” queried Tegain.

Again, silence.

Tegain cleared his throat and spoke more forcefully. His knuckles were becoming white upon the handle of his little club.

“What can I get you, friend?” asked Tegain a final time.

The hood of the figure shifted slightly, as if he had raised his head to look at Tegain. He slowly raised his arm straight out, level with Tegain’s head. Tegain could see nothing shrouded in the sleeve of the stranger, only blackness. No hand, thought Tegain. That thought and his sense of unease made him dip his head to the right, away from the upraised arm. In the brief flash of light that blossomed from the stranger’s long-sleeved robe, Tegain felt the skin on the side of his face burned and his hair singed on the left side of his scalp. This caused him to become unbalanced, and he fell toward the ground behind the bar. His stumble took him to the hard floor and knocked the wind from his lungs. Pain shot up his arm and into his shoulder. The sudden shock numbed his thoughts for a few moments. When sight and sound returned, Tegain wished it had not.

Screams erupted from the common room. From his spot on the floor, Tegain could not see the carnage taking place just beyond the sheltering bar. Nevertheless, he could hear it all. Chairs screeched as they came back away from the tables. Wooden tables banged on the floor as they toppled over. Heavy thuds began their march around the room. The screams of terror died with the resounding falls of his patrons and friends. The stench of burnt flesh and blood began filling his nose. He retched from the awful smell. Tegain curled into a tight ball behind the bar. Held by a powerful fear, unable to move or breathe, Tegain lay there for some moments. Suddenly, he could just make out a low humming noise that rose to a higher pitch, then ended with a click. Tegain could hear the soft rustle of a heavy cloak, followed by the resonant thumps on the hard wooden floor. A few seconds passed and a quiet came over the inn. The crackle of fire began to build in the room. Still, fear held Tegain to the ground. He was barely able to breathe. Smoke had begun to fill the upper portions of the ceiling. In the relative silence, Tegain heard footsteps. Each step echoed through the now hollow room. The thunk, thunk, thunk of the steps reminded Tegain of a heavy walking stick being stumped along the floor. The heavy oaken main door creaked open. The tinkle of the small brass bell jingled softly. The oak door came to rest with a deafening thud.

Tegain slowly uncurled himself. Craning his neck to look up over the end of the bar, he met the empty gaze of Hes. Laying flat on his back with his head turned toward the bar, Hes’ eyes were open wide in surprise. However, the life was gone from them. He looked unharmed from Tegain’s vantage. Slowly, he crawled toward his friend. Tegain hoped his friend only lay stunned from some unknown blow. Drawing closer, the gruesome truth became apparent. Hes’ upper torso lay before him, but his legs lay in the opposite direction. The scene made him dry-heave uncontrollably. The heaving subsided after a short time, only to be replaced with racking sobs.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Tegain lamented.

He could feel the hot, acrid air burning his lungs. He knew he needed to get moving. The thoughts of his family galvanized him into action.

“Shae, Gwyn, are you all right?” Tegain yelled from behind the bar.

Sounds of the fire consuming the building were quickly increasing. The crackles and pops were becoming a roar. Thick black smoke now hung just above Tegain’s head. He tried to stand, but as he did so the heat and fumes pushed him back down to his knees. Tegain had to squeeze his burning eyes shut. When he had caught his breath, he began calling for his family.

“Shae! Gwyn!” he cried.

The roar and snaps of the fire and the groan of the weakening wood were all he could hear. He crawled as quickly as he could to the kitchen. Pieces and parts of human bodies littered the way. Strangely, there was no blood. Tegain could not quite comprehend the devastation to his inn. The entire common room appeared as if it had been picked up, shaken violently and then slammed back down. He crawled over chairs, around tables, and over the bodies. The intense heat and lowering smoke was making the way more treacherous.

“Shae! Gwyn!” Tegain called in the direction of the kitchen.

Squinting through his burning eyes, Tegain could barely make out the door to the kitchen. Through his pained, blurred gaze, he could just see the bright outline of the door. A wide horizontal line, sliced cleanly through the middle, marred the door’s outline. Through the horizontal gash, he could see flames dancing wildly.

“Shae! Gwyn!” screamed Tegain.

The heat and smoke made taking a breath almost unbearable. At that moment, Tegain knew that reaching the kitchen door would be impossible. He stared at the glowing outline of the door for a few moments, tears streaming down his face as he stared. Flames licking at his left hand spurred Tegain into action once again. He quickly crawled his way in the direction of less intense heat and light.

A few moments later Tegain’s head banged into the front door. He knew by the solid thump of the wood. His mind numb with pain and each breath coming with racking coughs, Tegain clawed the heavy oaken door open. He lurched out into the cool, wet night. Weak and drained from the exertion, Tegain pulled himself a few more feet out onto the grass. From the relative safety of the front lawn, he fell onto the wet earth face-first. His air-starved body, unable to carry him any farther, collapsed into the blackness of unconsciousness.