Madness
Andre returned to his room alone. There was no fire lit, and the room was cold. The only light was chill as the full moon shined though a window above the bed.
Shadows were about. It had been days since they had parted good company from the musketeers, and he and Bevier remained still in Castille, though far from Vaticine City. The place where he and Bevier were imprisoned and slated to be executed by the Inquisition with little to no cause. The matter was further complicated by the arrival of the Musketeers. Montaigne's noble heroes. Andre found there to be no end of irony in the situation. He, himself, of Castille, to be prosecuted by his peers, and to be rescued, or in part aided by the Musketeers, the heroes of a country warring his. And then Bevier, of Montaigne, whose problems with the Musketeers had yet to be explained. The whole mess seemed wrought of some twisted sense of humor that Andre could not even begin to fathom. And then there was the unexpected boon of finding one of the relatives of one of the men that Talen was now with. Finding being used loosely. The relative had both Andre and Bevier tossed out of bed by an intriguing woman with a passionate fire. The musketeers were there then, much to Bevier's chagrin, as he was holding what was left of his clothing on him. Of course, Bevier volunteered no information, but Andre felt that there was no need to pursue it. Although the relative, as sharp and perceptive a woman that Andre had yet to meet, vouched for her grandson, there seemed to be unspoken reservations. Young, brash, a touch of talent with the sword and more than a bit of arrogance, and, according to the grandmother, those were his endearing qualities. But another talent that the young Enrique Montoya had was the gift of the quill. The young Castillian had sent several letters to his grandmother, most featured Talen, some prominently. But the more that Andre learned about his son's newest associates, the more he was concerned for his safety. If his and Bevier's experience with the Inquisition and the Musketeers were any indicator of how these individuals themselves were seen about Theah, Andre could not help but worry. How they had managed to enrage both the angels and the devils? And then there was the dream. A premonition, a vision. Of a son he pursued, a dream so real, so in depth� When he closed his eyes and closed his palm there was a coldness there. The memory of a ring in his hand. Inset with a floating eight pointed star. Andre needed to think. His mind clouded with this confusion and near madness. If only he could have said something to his son, he thought, if only. Anything. But he had been frozen by the sight of him. By Theus, he had grown. Not that Andre couldn't see the boy he remembered teaching in the man that he had become. A man. Not yet. But nearly. Agitated, he threw his cloak to the floor. His swordhand drifted to the hilt of the Musketeer's sword. A sword given to him by the Musketeers for aiding them in their moment of need. His other gripped his head fiercely, his own straight blonde hair coming though his fingers. A shadow moved, and a pale face was in the moonlight. "What troubles you, friend?" The specter asked. Something in Andre de la Garza slipped. In a terrifying moment, Andre completely lost track of himself. And the intruder could only gasp in Andre's hands. The intruder had been sitting in a chair nearly across the room, if there was a defense he could have mounted, he wouldn't have known it. There was a defying quickness about Andre, and he came upon the intruder like no other. Andre's mind reverted to a time that he would use his very hands to choke the life from whomever he had the misfortune to cross. A time when he had no memory of who he was, only the knowledge that he had been wronged. Wronged to the point where he could not justly avenge himself, because he had no memory of the crime. No memory of the assailant. Nothing but the emptiness brought about by the crime. The intruder sputtered. His face nearly ground into the planked wall. And Andre's wild green eyes calmed, and he dropped the man to the floor. "I don't know who you are," Andre gasped, mastering himself, "But I would advise you to leave�" The man roughly coughed, "I have business," he stood. "Do you?" Andre asked, himself crumpling to the floor, staring at hands, that for a moment before, were not his. Madness. Madness, Andre thought, is this all I have to offer my son if I ever find him? Madness? "I regret that I could not catch you before the Inquisition did in Vaticine City, I regret that very much�" The intruder straightened his clothing. Andre glanced up at the intruder, his eyes fearful, though not of him, "Who?" he struggled, "Who are you?" "That's going to need a bit of explanation," the intruder said compassionately, "An explanation that I'm ready to give," he paused, "If you are ready to listen." Andre nodded numbly. "Let it first be said," he continued, "that I mean no harm to you or your son, or even your mysterious Montaigne friend." Andre laid a hand on the wooden floor, "A promising start." The stranger went to the only table in the modest room and lit its only lantern, illuminating his features and garb. He was a bit rumpled from Andre's assault, dressed well, but not richly. He was short, a head shorter than Andre, his face ordinary, older than Bevier, younger than Andre. His voice, when it recovered, was extraordinary, flowing incredibly syllable to syllable. It was neither high nor low, but truly a man's voice used to its fullest potential. Memory of Andre's dream returned, its defining detail nagging his mind. "Are you an Explorer?" Andre asked. The intruder picked up a tri-cornered hat from his overturned chair, "No," he looked at the Castillian with a puzzled interest, "No, I am not." Andre nodded to himself, "Of course not. Of course you wouldn't be." The intruder shook his head at Andre, still on the floor. "Do you have a riddle for me instead, Andre. Something for me to figure out?" "You know of my son?" Andre asked. "Yes," he said, "I know of him. He is in part why I'm here. I have news." Oddly there was no change in Andre, he remained on the floor, clenching his right hand as if something small and treasured were in it, "Do you know of his possessions, stranger? Do you know what he carries?" "What is this about?" the stranger asked, "Your son carries a good number of things, some prominent�" Andre looked at him distractedly, "An eight pointed star�" he pushed himself off the floor and stood, "I have been told that that is the sign of an Explorer� It that correct?" "It is." The intruder answered, "Why?" Andre didn't answer. He sat on the bed staring at his hands again. After a while, he asked, "Does my son have a ring?" There was an disturbing silence. "I was prepared for questions, but not these. Talen Calyanni has a ring. It is one of those prominent possessions, I mentioned before," The intruder stared at him hard, "How could you possibly know about that?" "It's a token of an Explorer, I think, it has�." Andre paused, "It has a device inset in it�" "�And he wears it on a chain around his neck�" the intruder completed, "How could you possibly know about that?" he asked again. Andre's hand passed in front of his eyes, "How did he get it?" "It was given to him. By the Explorer's Society�" "Given to him?" Andre asked, "Why?" "Sir, your son is an Explorer," he sat beside the Castillian, "How you could know about the ring and not know that, I don't know." "Talen� An Explorer�" "The ring was given to him by Madam Bisset of the Freiburg chapterhouse, his membership was approved by Reginald Colesun." The names meant little to Andre, but he recognized that for the stranger they held significance, "Where is my son, stranger? Tell me that and you can keep your explanation and your name." "Your son is in Avalon, Andre de la Garza, and I was sent to tell you this." The intruder was about to lay a comforting hand on the Castillian's shoulder, but hesitated, "Since you have disappeared all those years ago, you and your son, another has searched for you both�" " A Vodacce?" Andre's mind conjured a picture of a balding man, one he once thought a friend. "No, an individual from here in Castille." The man answered. "But my son is in Avalon, you said." Andre told him, "My search is for him, why would I stay here any longer?" The man nodded, "But that's not the only thing that you are looking for, I think. We are aware of your� condition. You search for your son, true, but you are also searching for your past. This person is part of this, and you would be missing an opportunity to meet them." "And the intentions of this person?" Andre asked. "Pure." The stranger answered. "And your intentions?" Andre warily asked. "Duty bound, but honorable." The stranger said, giving a comforting smile, "I don't mean to be so mystic, you just caught me off guard with your�" he paused, "Intuition. Though I'm sure that that's not exactly the word for it. You told me that I could keep my name and my explanation, but I would like you to trust me if you can�" Andre nodded. "My name is Thonnas Birch, and I am a Knight of the Rose and Cross." From behind him, Birch produced a blue tabard featuring the prominent seal of a cross intertwined with roses, "Perhaps if I had worn this, it would have saved me a bit of trouble, but I have my reasons�" Andre stared at the produced tabard, "Another wrinkle." "Indeed," Birch took back the tabard, "Unfortunately, I haven't any more time," He looked to the night sky outside the Castillian's window, "There is more to tell, but again, unfortunately, I don't have the time. Now, the is a place in the Gallegos territory, not far at all. Take the main road south the La Boca de Cielo, it's a bit disused, but�" The Knight got up, "I wish I could tell you more but�" he paused and smiled, "That's three times, isn't it?" Birch said, "Anyway, where you're going is short of the port of Riojas," the Knight donned his hat, "Where you should find a ship willing to berth you both to Avalon, Carleon, by the way�" "My son is in Carleon?" Andre asked. "From all reports, yes," Birch tipped his hat, "Good night, sir, and good luck to you." And the Knight left through the door. After a few moments, a rumpled Bevier came through the open doorway, "Andre?" he scanned the room, "I heard something of a�" du Paix paused, "A bit of a scuffle? Are you alright?" Andre got up and righted the chair that he had knocked over before and sat in it, "Bevier?" "Yes?" "We might be staying in Castille a little longer than we intended�"Return to Uncommon Valor