Chapter 11

 Ten minutes after the sudden ambush, Bracken found himself sitting in the Brazen Eagle, sipping tea to calm his nerves.  The cloaked man that had saved his life sat across from him.  Dalfang Niekolt was a rugged man.  Rugged, but wise.  He was old, but his strength failed to betray his age.  His gray beard and pale blue eyes gave him the face of a scholar.  He lived in the jagged wilderness of Zorek, but from time to time made brief visits to Accad.  It had been fortunate for Bracken that their paths had crossed in the twilight and the strong arms of the older man had pulled him to safety.

Bracken looked across the table at his new acquaintance.  What a unique man, he thought.  The forest of Zorek was a wilderness few people bothered to visit.  Even the rugged type seemed to avoid it.   Bracken set his mug down on the table.

"Don't you ever get lonely living in Zorek?"

Dalfang smiled back whimsically, his eyes squinting warmly. He seemed to be as fascinated with his young friend as Bracken was with him.  "I suppose that's a possibility, but I have a purpose for being where I am," said Dalfang, his voice giving off a pleasing resonance over the garbled conversations in the background.  Even though it was early dawn, the Eagle was half filled with patrons.  "Of course, there are others coming to live in Zorek.  I see them from time to time.  They are beginning to realize that living here in this city tightens the nerves and binds the senses from true awareness."  The sage-like man sounded confident.  His tan face displayed an eagle-like nose that spoke of majesty.  "Others will join me. It's merely a matter of time."

Bracken was fascinated by the wisdom Dalfang exuded, not just in the words he spoke, but in the way he spoke them, so confident and peaceful.  There was a genuineness that seemed to surround him.   He continued to listen to Dalfang, transfixed by the soft glow of his eyes.

"Zorek is a pleasant place.  I wouldn't want to live anywhere else.  But I have an even greater reason for being where I am.  It's a secret reason."  Dalfang paused and waited at this point, quietly sipping from the cup in his hand, his long fingers wrapping themselves firmly around the earthenware.  They had been weathered by the sea-wind and wilderness life, but still appeared articulate when he used them to illustrate his conversations.

After a few minutes, Bracken broke the silence.  "Well, aren't you going to tell me what it is?"   He wanted to eagerly pry for the answer, but even though he spoke hastily, it was quietly.  Bracken sensed he should be patient and let it come in its own time.   The two of them waited there, in the silence, for long minutes as a musician played soft melodies on his stam.  The air was filled with drifting clouds of smoke from the pipes of several other patrons who sat puffing contentedly around the room.  The semi-sweet scent of incense burning in small containers near the entrance, mingled itself with the stronger odors flowing through the air, creating an intoxicating aroma.

Then Dalfang slowly began again, "Have you ever heard of the world of Malchag?"  Dalfang's frame seemed to grow beneath his leather cape as he spoke.

Bracken hesitated before he answered.  Malchag had always been something he regarded as non-existent, the kind of thing that he had lumped together with myths about the Prince of Wonder and other stories he had heard as a child.  That's all they had ever been to him, just stories; sometimes nice ones, but ones which had become increasingly ridiculous and boring as he grew older. He didn't want to answer for fear of giving away his skepticism.  Finally he responded softly, "Yes, but I never put much thought into it.  You know those things are considered myths by a lot of people."

Dalfang answered gently.   "That's partly hue, but what many fail to realize is that often myths are based on fact.  People have been skeptical of such things, but mostly because they are too preoccupied with vain pursuits.  You see, there really is a world of Malchag."

Bracken looked down.   He felt slightly embarrassed by his friend's sincerity.  "What exactly is Malchag anyway?  I've heard so many things."

"A vast realm of beauty and peace that few have ever found."  Bracken gazed out the window behind Dalfang.  The street was coming to life.  The night was over, the twilight had passed.

"Well, if it's so beautiful, why haven't more people found it?"

"Yes, one is hidden in Zorek forest.  An old one showed me its entrance years ago.  I was your age.   He commissioned me to take his place as a guardian of its door.  He told me to wait till people were ready."

Bracken motioned for the man behind the counter to bring them more tea. "Have you shown anyone its entrance yet?" he whispered.

Dalfang looked at Bracken with a slight smile. "This is why I feel our meeting has significance.  Even though you're skeptical, I have a feeling you'd change your mind once you stood in Zorek."  Dalfang seemed to have found something in Bracken that he liked.  Perhaps it was his searching spirit.

The old man is right, Bracken told himself. I am skeptical.  Dalfang's warm confidence seemed to be changing all that.  Another desire began to replace his doubts.   "You know, if such a place as Malchag really does exist, I'd love to go there."

Myth and skepticism began to fade in the face of Dalfang's confident manner. "Suppose I did decide to come for a visit. How can I find your place?"

Dalfang handed a piece of parchment to Bracken. He opened it and read the title at the top:

The Door to the Anindi Passage of Malchag

Bracken folded the map and tucked it away in his tunic. "So if I show up there, you'll give me the guided tour, so to speak?"

"Fine. I'll have to give it some thought."

"I was hoping you would," said Dalfang. The bearded man took a final drink from his cup. "I must be on my way. I'm sure I'11 see you again soon, my young friend."

Dalfang rose from his chair to leave. Bracken stood with him. The youth extended his hand to the older man. "Thanks again for saving my life back there."