Meet Your Mentor

Bleiderburg strolled his way along the cobbled paths as if he owned all of Vandalen; whacking the bushes on each side of the trail with the butt of his wooden walking stick. He had woken up in a good mood that morning despite the dark clouds floating ominously over the trees in the distance signaling the inevitable return of evil sorcerer Kokaloth. Not even the slow disappearance of the hair on his head, something he had secretly been fretting to himself about for a few years now ever since the first clump unceremoniously fell out, could bring him down. Today was special. Something was going to end.

“Father Bleiderburg! Good morning!” Bleiderburg turned to the right and smiled with an acknowledging nod towards Tomás French waving back at him from beyond the waist-high rock wall surrounding his yard and home. Bleiderburg than noticed the large wagon beside Tomás laden down to bursting with the French family’s belongings — furniture hanging over the edges with knickknacks and keepsakes filling the spaces in between. Curious and thinking his ultimate destination that day could wait, he stepped nimbly off the cobblestones and suavely leaned on French’s wall on folded arms. He peered at Tomás with a friendly grin.

“Hullo, My Son! Beautiful day, isn’t it?” He greeted cheerfully, for truth be told, it was sunny and bright beside the aforementioned thunderhead eating the tree line on the horizon. Tomás bestowed him a dubious quirk of the mouth before answering. 

“If you say, so Father — if you like your days sullied with an increased chance of getting struck by lightning or cursed by a stray wind.” He said, a rueful smirk popping up on his face as he pointed in the direction of the clouds as if Bleiderburg had not seen them yet. The man in question laughed anyway around the slight annoyance that Tomás couldn’t act more lightly.

“Ha ha ha! Yes, I suppose those do take away from the majesty and peacefulness of everywhere else.” He paused purposefully and roved his eyes over to the ladened wagon once more. “It seems as if you piled everything you own in there. May I ask where you are off to, if you don’t mind my being nosy?” Tomás glanced at the wagon, too, as if just remembering it was there right next to him.

“Ah. Well, you see, Father, the missus and I decided to skip town with the little ones. With Kokaloth’s rampage getting worse around these parts and our third on the way, we’ve decided it’s in our best interest to move overseas. Theara likes the thought of Ttoula as she has family relatives there.” He replied. Bleiderburg nodded sagely, though he didn’t quite agree with Tomás and his wife’s plan of action. 

“Tomás… While I commend you and your wife’s initiative and passion to keep your family safe, what if I told you that there is a…a chance that Kokaloth will be defeated?” Tomás did a double-take the Father on that one and he raised an eyebrow.

“I am listening…” He drawled out hesitantly. Bleiderburg smiled.

“Well, this path behind me leads to the Forbidden Hillcrest, does it not?” He paused in mounting delight as Tomás nodded. “There is a boy coming — probably not much older than your eldest. He has a latent power within him to put a stop to the madness of Kokaloth and his experiments. I am going to meet him now and teach him the ways to help him tap into this power and rise to become the hero he was meant to be.” He concluded on a big booming note, having entered the deep, dulcimer tones he normally saves for his sermons to praise the Gods on Tuesday evenings. He also found he had placed a foot upon the rock wall and his arms up with his hands into claws. He was breathing hard. He must have gotten a little too into his speech. Tomás was still firmly on the ground, staring up at him quizzically. He was used to Father Bleiderburg’s more eccentric moments, so the fact that the other man was now making a fool of himself in public didn’t faze him at all. 

“Mmhm, and how did you hear of this boy, Father?” Tomás questioned in a way that suggested he was speaking to a child. Bleiderburg, not embarrassed in the least, stepped off of the wall and was now on the same side as Tomás in his yard.

“Why, through prayer to the gods for answers, of course! Particularly our saint of Salvation Pralsia.” The Father said matter-of-factly with the biggest grin plastered upon his face that Tomás couldn’t but join. “And the answer came to me in a miraculous vision…” He suddenly bent his legs at the knees into a semi-crouch and stuck a hand out in slow, sweeping motion. 

“Picture this! I am meditating in my quarters among the belfries when the room abruptly fills with a fuchsia fog. I stand, my movements lethargic as in a waking dream. All of a sudden, a flash of light — right in front of me! And there she is…” Bleiderburg drew himself up fully, closing his eyes serenely and breathing in deeply through his nose. “St. Pralsia, there with me in all of her glory! Her long, magenta hair flowing gracefully in every nook and cranny and encasing me in safety!” He swiftly wrapped himself in a hug, slapping his own shoulders and startling Tomás a little. The younger man blinked in astonishment and stared at the Father. Minutes passed and Bleiderburg still continued to embrace himself lovingly.

“…And-and St. Pralsia told you of this boy?” He stammered quietly, not sure what else to say at this point. He was half-wondering if he should just leave the Father alone since heseemed to be really enjoying his own company compared with Tomás’s. Bleiderburg’s eyes snapped open, sending Tomás into another start as a glare was aimed right at him from those startlingly blue eyes the Father owned.

“No, she told be to go to the market and pick up fresh buns, the heavens were out… Of course, she spoke of the boy to me, Tomás!” Bleiderburg gripped harshly now to Tomás’s own shoulders, shaking him up a bit to get him to see sense. “She was so passionate about it as he said that this boy would not be of our world and would employ smarts only he knew in order to bring down the nastiness of Kokaloth and his dark oppression forever! ‘Only this boy can bring Vandalen back from the bring of destruction and tyranny!’she tells me before the fog and the tendrils of hairs were sucked away from around me. She finishes her message by whispering as if everywhere at once, but her voice tunnels straight to my ear, ‘Meet him at Hillcrest. You must teach him the ways, Bleiderburg… Perform your duty well or we shall all perish!’” Bleiderburg released Tomás at last and jumped back upon the wall in an astonishing feat of athleticism by committing the act backwards so that he still face Tomás. He pumped a fist straight up into the air.

“And that is when I returned to myself still in my sitting position the floor as if the vision never occurred and I knew what I must do! So here I travel by your home to the Forbidden Hillcrest to take the child under my wing! So he may save us all!” Bleiderburg finished his spiel staring into nowhere, not particularly at Tomás, who was a bit aghast at the fervor at the delivery. Not even when he gave Tuesday-night sermons did Tomás see Father Bleiderburg so worked up. He supposed it was about time to take the wind out of the Father’s sails, though. The morning was wearing by quickly.

“Well, as hopeful as that sounds, Theara and I have made our minds up. I believe in St. Pralsia as much as the next bloke, but the safety of my family cannot be placed in the hands of an unknown thirteen-year-old boy who may or may not be ready in time to face the might of Kokaloth; no matter how well and long you train him. I apologize, Father, but our minds our made up.” Tomás turned away then, reaching around the far end of the wagon to bring out another overflowing suitcase. Bleiderburg was left on the wall looking like ass as he observed Tomás throw the bag up on top of an already teetering metaphorical mountain of things. He gingerly stepped back so that he was now on the opposite side of the yard. 

It was disappointing, but he supposed he couldn’t blame Tomás. Unless he had had the vision himself, it was difficult to have faith in these trying times. And with kids, it made it even more pressing an issue to believe.

“It’s okay. I understand, my son.” Bleiderburg conceded, bending over to pick up his walking stick he’d dropped a while ago. He had tarried too long chatting here, anyway. Tomás paused in his packing to give a cocked head to the Father, feeling a bit guilty he couldn’t show more enthusiasm.

“If it’s any consolation, Father Bleiderburg, I do regard your vision as truth. We just can’t stick around to watch it play out.” He said rather pitifully, trying to save face. Bleiderburg waved him off, already on his way back to the path at an angle. 

“Nonsense, Mr. French. Your duty is to your family and sometimes that is the highest honor one can make. I wish you and wife luck in your new home, where ever that may be.” And with that, he continued along the cobbled trail to Forbidden Hillcrest, Tomás scrutinizing his departure wearily before heading into his house for more junk.

It took Bleiderburg about fifteen more minutes of walking to get to Hillcrest. It would have taken him a shorter amount of time, but he halted to speak to several others along the way. None of the conversations touched on the one he had with Tomás French, though. It gave him food for thought, especially in terms of how long he would have to train this “savior” in order to gain any respect from the villagers. It was a challenge Bleiderburg was up for, however; anything to end this threat to his home of Vandalen. 

He reached the sloping field of Hillcrest at around noon finally and he made his way to a large, lone tree in the middle of it all and sat in his copious shade. He sighed a relief and resigned himself to the wait. St. Pralsia only told him the day and place the boy would show, not the exact time. Pulling out a pen knife and a small orange, he peeled it easily and gnawed meditatively on the slices.

He sure hoped Kokaloth readied himself for a surprise.

Fin