The Arrival of the Grym

Aeron watched as the amber light of the blood moon crept above the forest canopy, illuminating his shaggy crop of brown hair. He stood on his tiptoes, peering out into the wooded shadows, waiting for the Grym to appear. Father Feran was busy in the other chamber, preparing for the arrival. “Get away from that window, boy. He’ll be here soon enough and you best be asleep when he arrives,” Feran shouted over the crashing of brass kettles and clay pots as he prepared the lamb stew.

Aeron ignored him like he did every year. He waited, keeping his eyes fixed on the dark path leading to the manor. Presently, he saw a dim light appear, flickering as it passed among the trees. “He’s here,” Feran whispered, appearing behind the boy. Aeron looked up at the Father’s wrinkled face and saw a tremor of fear in his eyes. “Now get to bed.” Feran rested his hand gently on the boy’s shoulder and led him away from the window.

“Why are you afraid?” Aeron asked as he slipped off his clothes. Feran pulled back the covers and sat down at the foot of the bed, his eyes never leaving the window. Aeron climbed between the sheets, his legs bumping against Feran’s slender frame. The Father sat for a long time and the boy could feel his fear. 

Finally, he turned and looked at the boy tenderly, his eyes wet. “I’m not afraid, son.” That’s a lie, Aeron thought to himself. “I simply mourn the things that are lost, and those that are yet to be lost. Now go to sleep.” The Father pulled the sheets up around the boy’s shoulders then shuffled out of the room, his bones creaking in the stillness. He pulled the heavy door shut behind him, and Aeron heard the metal click as the lock fell into place. 

As soon as Feran was out of sight, Aeron silently slipped out of bed and returned to the window. The light had grown brighter, a ghostly blue hue that clashed with the orange glow of the moon, blanketing the distant forest. Aeron watched as the light approached, a shadow coming into focus behind it. Aeron willed his body into the air to get a better view, his feet floating inches from the earth. Feran had once called it a cheap parlor trick and banned him from ever using it again. But Aeron knew that his time with the Father was growing shorter, soon he’d no longer have to obey his demands. As the shadow reached the threshold, it stopped, and Aeron could feel its gaze upon him. He didn’t move, it felt right that he was being seen. I’m here for you, it seemed to say, and Aeron whispered in response, I’m ready.

The shadow continued, and a dull knock broke through the silence of the house. Aeron listened as Father Feran opened the door, and the shuffling of feet as the Grym entered. A deep husky voice leaked through the cracks of Aeron’s door, “Brother Feran, I thank you again for your hospitality.”

The Father’s frail voice answered in response, “I fear you come with purpose this time.”

“I do. But all things in due course. First, we eat. I am famished from my travels.”

Aeron tip-toed silently across the room and pressed his ear against the door, listening to the sounds of Feran serving the meal, the visitor devouring it greedily, the clattering of dishes as Feran cleared the table, and finally the ruffling of bodies settling in.

“You’ve outdone yourself once again, Feran,” the visitor growled warmly.

“I assure you, my humble stew is nothing that couldn’t be found elsewhere in a hundred different towns.”

“That may be true, but you know I avoid the towns. Nobody eats like this where I’ve been.”

“And where is that? Where have your travels taken you this time?”

The Grym paused, ignoring the question. Aeron pressed himself tightly against the door, determined not to miss a single word. “They have found the other one,” the gruff voice continued, barely above a whisper. “A young boy like your own.”

“So the prophecy is true?”

“Perhaps. I have seen prophecies come and go in my time. There is truth and falsehoods in all.”

“But we must take its truth as a matter of faith.”

“Yes.” The Grym sighed, and Aeron grew impatient, angry at Feran for hiding him away in this dark prison. He knew they were talking about him. He needed to find a better vantage point. As the two dinner companions continued to speak in generalities, holding off the inevitable direction that their conversation would turn, Aeron placed his hand firmly against the door. Visualizing the inner mechanism of the lock - the scratched thumb-latch, the brass turnpiece, the heavy deadbolt - he willed the pieces in motion and felt them obey. He slowly pushed open the door until a small slash of second-hand light fell across his face. Through the crack he saw Feran’s back to him, slouched over. An old man, halfway to his grave, he thought. 

“So the boy is the one,” the Father said, finally cutting through the pleasantries to get to the meat of the matter.

“He is one of the two, yes, we can now be sure of that.”

Aeron watched as Feran’s head lifted, his back straightening. “And what do you mean by that?” he asked. He is angry.

“We have no way of knowing…” the Grym started, but the Father's voice cut through sharply, interrupting him.

“I have raised him in the light. He is the one who will renew!” Feran’s outburst seemed to even startle himself. His body slouched forward once again as if in apology.  

Aeron slowly pushed the door open further. He was well enough acquainted with the Father’s backside. As the crack widened, the figure opposite Feran slowly came into view. First, two large hands, resting gently on the table, human in appearance but thicker, with patches of dark hair and long sharp nails. Then the arms, large and muscular, fully blanketed in fur. And finally, the image of a beast. Aeron had once seen a bison in a picture book, and the Grym bore a striking resemblance, but sitting upright, with deep piercing eyes that vaguely resembled those of a human. He was large, and the Father looked especially frail in comparison. The Grym never took his eyes off Feran, seated across from him, but Aeron could feel his gaze turning upon him. You are disobeying the Father.

The Father’s time is passed. I know why you are here.

The Grym laughed, breaking the silence. Feran looked up, ignorant of the secret words passing through and around him. “I have taught him...”

“You have coddled him,” the Grym shot back, his full gaze now boring into the boy, even as his eyes remained fixed on the Father, now bristling with anger.

“I have trained him in truth.”

“The boy lacks discipline. You have been soft on him.”

“I have given him everything!” Feran’s body shot up out of the chair, his hunched backside straightening to its full height. Once upon a time, he must have been a powerful man, the boy thought. “I have given him love, a home. You chose me, don’t forget that!”

“Yes. And I fear now that we made a mistake.” The words struck the Father as a blow. Aeron watched as his brief moment of strength was swiftly defeated, his body crumpling back into his chair. “I am taking the boy. It is time for the next stage of his training.” Finally, the Grym turned his head to stare directly at Aeron. The father’s eyes followed, and Aeron was shocked by the tears freely flowing. His weakness will not be my own.

***

The two trudged together in silence, the Grym’s pale blue lantern casting deep shadows into the forest around them. Each of the Grym’s lumbering steps was equal to several of Aeron's own and he struggled to keep up, half jogging several paces behind. As they walked he studied the beast's broad shoulders, the muscles visible under the coat of fur, and wondered, If it came to it, could I will this beast to the ground? Could I will the life out of him? Or is he too powerful?

The Grym stopped as if intercepting the boy’s thoughts. They were now in a small clearing, a circle of stones inscribed in the center. “This is where we rest,” he said, the first words spoken between them. He picked up an armful of dead branches from the forest floor and dropped them into the center of the circle, then looked over at the boy, commanding him with his gaze. Light it. Show me what you can do. Aeron focused on the pile of sticks and willed a spark to ignite. He held the spark in his mind and willed it to grow, first into a small flame and then into a roaring fire. He had never performed this trick before and was delighted at the ease with which he brought the flame to life. He looked over at the Grym but could read nothing from his face. 

The Grym turned away and sat down on a large stone, his lumbering body falling like an anchor beneath him, the earth trembling in response. Aeron sat down across from him and waited, studying the Grym’s face through the flames, flickering and dancing between them. Aeron could feel the Grym's mind turning, but the thoughts were hidden.

“The things I said to Feran,” the Grym finally said, his words a deep rumble echoing through the night, “I regret the harshness of my tone.”

“They were true,” Aeron replied, “Father never let me do anything. He held me back.”

The Grym seemed to consider this. “I was too harsh. Feran is an old friend and I deliberately opened a wound.” 

"He deserved it," Aeron said, unable to conceal his resentment. The Grym looked up and Aeron thought he caught a moment of surprise flash across his eyes. Careful how you speak of your elders. Aeron quickly turned away, his face flush with anger and embarrassment, avoiding the Grym's gaze.

The Grym stared at the boy for a moment, as if searching for something in his face. "Regardless," he said, pulling out a parcel from his pack and carefully unwrapping the parchment around it, revealing two cuts of lamb's meat. "He was gracious enough to prepare us this one last meal.” Aeron watched as the Grym reached into the flames and retrieved a thin half-burnt stick. He pierced one end with the meat, and wedged the other end between two rocks, carefully balancing it above the flames. The two sat in silence, listening to the flames crack against the raw lamb's flesh.

“I know about the prophecy,” Aeron finally said, cutting through the flames.

The Grym smiled. “Feran has a loose tongue.”

“No.” He never told me anything. He never trusted me.  “I found it myself, years ago, while he was out. He doesn’t know.” The Grym considered this silently, and the boy was overwhelmed with the urge to prove himself. “I willed his door unlocked, I could do it even back then. I found the ancient text.”

“You have a history of disobedience.” The Grym growled softly, and Aeron couldn't tell if he was disappointed or impressed. “So tell me what you know of the prophecy.”

Aeron repeated it from memory. “Two shall be born with celestial power. One shall rise to renew. The other shall rise to destroy. War shall rule the day, and chaos shall rule the night. Until the one shall slay the other, and the shape of the world shall be forged in his image.”

“And you believe you are one of the two?” the Grym asked, his mind penetrating deep into the boy.

I know I am. Aeron returned his gaze in defiance.

“And what will you do with this power?”

“I will destroy the other.”

“And then what?” Aeron thought about this. He hadn’t yet considered it. The Grym repeated himself. “Once you have destroyed the other, and you alone have the power to shape the world? What will you do?”

Aeron looked the beast dead in the eyes. “Whatever I want,” he said, finally.

The Grym frowned and Aeron could detect a sadness lingering deep in his eyes. He watched as the Grym turned and pulled out a small pouch. “The meat is nearly done,” the Grym said, opening the pouch and dusting the charred meat with a dark red powder. 

Did he only put it on one? Aeron thought to himself. Or did my eyes deceive me?

“A spice I picked up from my travels,” the Grym said, as he separated the two cuts of lamb, handing one to the boy. “Let us eat.” The Grym's powerful jaws ripped into the meat, devouring it swiftly. 

Aeron waited, letting his portion cool down in the night air. “I’m not soft,” he said.

The Grym wiped his mouth. “No. I don’t believe you are. Now eat.”

Aeron was satisfied. If he doesn’t see my power now, I will simply need to show him. He took a bite of the lamb, and immediately a jolt of heat shot through him. He gasped for breath but felt his throat constricting, as his whole head felt consumed by flame. He clawed at his throat desperately as the air failed to come, his body shooting upright in panic. From the corner of his eye, he caught an image of the Grym watching him carefully. Was he smiling? Aeron felt his lungs collapsing, his mind clouding over. His body contorted and his feet left the earth. As the panic rose to a boiling point within him, his body lifted into the air, his mind losing control. 

The Grym watched as the silence of the night erupted into chaos around them. The fire hissed and exploded, the trees shook violently, and thunder suddenly roared overhead. The boy was powerful. More powerful than any of them had realized.

The Grym stood up slowly and walked toward the boy, his face turning a dark crimson and his body flailing wildly in the air, floating nearly out of reach. The Grym reached up and grabbed the boy’s leg, pulling him downward. The Grym put a hand on the boy's face, his thick fingers digging into the boy's mouth, prying it open. Aeron fought against him hysterically, but his strength was draining away. He was no match physically against the powerful beast. 

“Drink this,” the Grym said, forcing a flask into the boy’s open mouth. A rush of cold water crashed against the back of Aeron's throat. He gulped in the water desperately, and the flames shooting through his head immediately began to cool. He felt his throat opening, as the cold water forged a passageway, the heat giving way to relief. He began coughing violently, spitting up the water as he choked down the cool night air. The Grym loosened his grip, and the boy collapsed on the ground, his panic slowly subsiding. He grabbed for the flask once again and alternated between gulps of water and gasps of air until his breath had fully returned and the flames shooting through his throat had all but died, leaving only a dull afterburn. The Grym watched as the night once again settled back into a calm silence. “I forgot how sensitive you humans were,” he said. "Feran never liked spicy food either."  

I thought you were going to kill me, Aeron thought, not daring to say the words aloud.

The Grym sat down next to the boy. “You still have much growth ahead of you. I pray Feran was correct, and I’ll do my best to prepare you in all the ways he couldn't. I am here to protect and to guide."

The boy looked up to meet the Grym's gaze. You have nothing to fear from me, the Grym said. 

Not yet.