The Sacred Hill Palace

What feeds legends? Hope? Ignorance? Tradition? For most people, the old tales were like spent charcoal and ash. Like an unattended fire that sputtered out and starved for lack of wood. But not for Caleb. The ancient legends burned in his ears and his heart. He set down his creaking bundle of firewood and rested against it, staring into the early morning mist towards the barely rising sun. There beyond the peak of the next hill lay the old grove, the place where the wizard's palace once stood. What would it have been like to feast with the ancient master? 

The words of Hraf the bard echoed in Caleb's ears. Naked are these Hills, but soon they will be clothed, Coming quick is the Master, even as the rising sun.

Many years had passed since Caleb first heard that story, and every sunrise, he would run out, waiting to see if the palace would come. At first, he wasn't alone; Derk and Will would come running up with him. But their fires dwindled to ash long ago.

Faint bleating shook him out of his dazed thoughts. One of his sheep had wandered too far, stepping onto the sacred hill. 

Caleb dashed through the grass, brushing his feet with moisture with every step. A thick veil of mist draped across the pasture, but Caleb moved swiftly regardless, avoiding every rock and divot. He knew this land as well as he knew his own cottage.

The bleating grew louder. The fog grew incredibly thick. The sheep was close, but as Caleb dashed to grab it, he smacked into a dark figure. Caleb tumbled backward, landing in the grass, his head ached, and before he could stand back up, a deep scratchy voice called.

"Caleb?"

Caleb pushed himself back up onto his feet. A draped hood obscured the man’s face, but Caleb instantly recognized him by smell. He smelled heavily of liquor, urine, and sweat. “Good morning, Stian.”

The man sputtered and rubbed his eyes. “Morning? Ah, yes, and it is?”

“Tuesday,” Caleb responded. 

Caleb continued forward, but Stian tagged along.

“I had the strangest dream.”

“Interesting,” Caleb responded, picking up the pace. 

“You were in it,” Stian added.

“Me?”

“Yes, Caleb.” 

Caleb wasn’t sure he ever called Stian by his name, let alone talked with him. Sure, he had seen him. He knew of him and, yes, had even talked about him. Everybody knew Stian; it was hard not to when you see him passed out in a pigpen, begging for ale or money. But how did he know Caleb?

“I dreamed we were the sun.”

Caleb pressed on, not really sure how to respond.

“We were wandering up this hill, and we saw a palace, and then we came down to the village, and they brought you to the town center. I don’t remember much after that; I just couldn’t help but scream. It felt so hot, and then it all melted away. And you and I were both together, in the sky. We became the sun!”

Caleb shook his head, which was a mistake; it showed he was listening, which only encouraged him.

“Look, I know you don’t know me. And everyone hates me; I hate me.” Stian slurred. “But I saw it, and it wasn’t a dream. It was something else. It was real.”

And then, from nowhere, Stian’s stench disappeared. Caleb couldn’t smell his odor or even the heavy alcohol that marinated his clothing and skin. Instead, a sweet smell pervaded the air, that of fresh bread which was rising from a stone oven.

The laughter and music grew louder, along with the smells of goose, venison, and pork.

The air twinkled with a symphony of flutes, lutes, horns, and harps. Entranced, Caleb slowly stepped forward through the dense fog.

“I must still be dreaming,” Stian said with amazement.

Caleb blinked rapidly. The mist disappeared, and standing in front of him was a structure that shined like the sun. Its walls were crafted of marble, which glittered like snow on a bright day. Large pillars like trees stood at the building's gateway and branched into a canopy, making a ceiling. Perhaps even more amazing than the building was the crowd of men and women that filled the courtyard, spilling into the structure. 

The sound of the flutes, horns, and harps intensified, and the crowd swayed to the music. But as Stian and Caleb approached them, they parted ways, creating a path for them. Stian boldly pressed forward through the crowd, and Caleb reluctantly followed.

Finally, they came to the end of the path, standing in front of a great oak throne, engraved, with warriors brandishing swords, slaying beasts, and committing acts of bravery. At the top of the throne was a Sun. And sitting on the throne was a bulky bearded man, clothed in leather and furs. He held a twisting wooden staff in one hand and wore a silver pendant intricately crafted to look like the moon. His silvering hair and knowing eyes betrayed his otherwise youthful demeanor. This man was old, like a tree, though his body was solid like an oak.

Both Stian and Caleb bowed down. The man stood up from his throne, looking down at them. He stroked his chin and called out. “Stian, Caleb, do you know where you are?”

“The Wizard’s palace,” Caleb called.

Stian was still blinking and rubbing his eyes. “Are you the one they call the ancient master?”

“Yes, and yes,” the old man smiled, standing up and leaning against his staff. "Welcome to my feast. Tell me, Caleb and Stian. Where are the other townsfolk?"

"The other townsfolk?" Caleb inquired.

The old man stroked his beard. "I've been calling all of you for so long now, and only you two have come? Is it not recorded that I shall return?"

"Yes, and the bard shares that prophecy every day when the sun goes down."

"And somehow only you two have come. What do we do?"

"We will tell them." Stian blurted 

Caleb sighed. "I'm not sure they would believe us."

The old man mused. "And if a people lived in a desert and had never seen any body of water but a puddle, no one would imagine the ocean. But if one amongst them discovered the ocean, would they believe?"

Caleb nodded his head. "I suppose I'm not sure what to make of this. This can't be real. Can it?"

The old man laughed. "Perhaps you wish it weren't. Remember, and never forget." 

And then, it was all gone in the blink of an eye.

Caleb and Stian were now standing alone on the hill. The fog had all dissipated. Caleb didn't say anything, and neither did Stian.

"Caleb?" A voice called.

He turned to see an elderly man with a pair of beady eyes and a white beard that ran to his stomach. He was perched on his walking stick. 

"Good morning Hraf." Stian called.

But Hraf the bard did not say anything. Silence was the closest thing a vagabond like Stian could get to a greeting. Hraf's fierce eyes cut into Caleb once more. "Caleb, why are you here?"

Caleb, still in a stupor from the vision of the palace, couldn't speak, but even if he were back to his senses, he probably wouldn't say anything. 

Stian finally replied. "It's hard to explain.  I don't know what brought us here. But we saw the palace."

Hraf pinched his nose, "and I suppose you also found a fountain of ale?" He stepped forward, nudging Caleb in the rib. "Right?"

But Caleb didn't say anything, and after a few moments of silence, Hraf mumbled and hobbled away.

Caleb and Stian split off, returning his lost sheep to the flock. He just sat, reflecting on the palace and the words of the ancient master.

As the sun set, Caleb made his way to the village center just as the townspeople did every night. They sat huddled together where Hraf stood in the center.

He recited poems about the creation and the first sacrifice which was given, that which ushered in man. He spoke of the first fathers, of wars, and beasts born from the ravenous lusts of men. And finally, he came to the tale of the great palace and the feasts held by the ancient master.

"Naked are these Hills, but soon they will be clothed, Coming quick is the Master, even as the rising sun," Hraf recited. He bowed, and men, women, and children erupted into applause.

He continued his recitations, but then Stian emerged from the shadows. Every line Hraf uttered became more jumbled and less energetic until he stopped completely. 

A young child cocked his head to the side. "Aren't you going to continue, master Hraf?"

Hraf leaned onto his stick. "Stian, you say you saw the Ancient master's palace this morning?" 

The crowd burst into laughter. Several young children, though ignorant of why, copied their parents and pointed their fingers, and sneered in disdain.

Stian stood up. "I am a drunk. I smell, I'm useless, I'm a fool. Laugh, laugh me to the grave."

"What was the palace like!" A woman called.

"Did they have lots of ale!" A boy chipped in.

Stian folded his arms. "I did see the palace and also the Sage, the bard of bards."

The crowd burst out in laughter once more.

Stian slowly shuffled away, but Caleb stood up and called, "wait!"

He stopped dead in his tracks, and the village people all went quiet.

Caleb cleared his throat. "Stian didn't come here to cause trouble but to listen. Why is it we pain him so wherever he goes?"

"He says he saw the palace!" An elderly woman blurted.

Caleb nodded his head. "And what is so ridiculous about that? Every day we come here to listen to Hraf, and he tells us that the ancient master will return. And you laugh at the idea?"

An elderly woman with a beak of a nose stood up and pointed to Hraf. "If the palace were to return, Hraf would be the one to see it. He is the wisest of us all, the steward chosen to lead our people. Besides, no one else has seen it."

Caleb bit his lip. In the silence, everyone turned their eyes to him. And Stian did as well. Stian's back was crooked, weighed down by the years of many sorrows, his eyes soft and welling with tears.

"I saw it, too," Caleb whispered.

Hraf's eyes bulged. "What did you say?"

"I saw it, too," Caleb said a bit louder.

Hraf took a step forward. "Saw what?"

Caleb stood tall, walking up to Hraf and adamant as a mountain declared. "I saw the palace and the master."

Hraf's eyes widened. "And what did he tell you?"

"He said he's been waiting for us to join him, and he asked why only me and Stian went to see him."

Hraf swung his hand, striking Caleb in the cheek. "How dare you!"

The elderly lady spat. "Get out!"

Caleb turned away. He could feel the stares of a thousand eyes on him. As he reached the edge of the crowd, he turned back to the people and opened his mouth, but no words came out. He bowed his head and walked away from the warmth of the crowd and the glow of the fire.

As Caleb trodded slowly back towards his cottage, he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. Six men were following behind him and were quickly catching up. Caleb increased his pace. Before he could reach his doors, a firm hand grasped his shoulder and spun him around. In the starlight, Caleb recognized Derk. 

"Caleb, did you really mean what you said back there?" Derk asked.

Caleb paused, unsure of what to say.

"I hope you were joking. Tell me it was. It would be a relief. There are people back there talking about running you out of town. Just tell me it was a joke, and I can go back and explain."

Caleb shook his head and began to unlatch his door.

"There might be some who come for you in the morning." Derk said.

Caleb hesitated and turned away, walking towards the fields.

He sat in the dewy grass among the sheep for a time, staring at the moon. Perhaps it had been a dream? Or possibly fog sprites had been tricking him with visions? Or maybe just being around Stian had affected his judgment somehow?

He sighed. No, he couldn't help but remember how he felt walking into the palace. The air was filled with not only the sounds and smells of a feast but an energy of some kind. And when he saw the ancient master, the bard of bards, he couldn't help but remember the knowing look in the old man's eyes as if he could read Caleb's soul or the sense of quiet power in the old man's voice.

Some people would come in the morning. They wanted to rip him away from this place, away from his home and his sheep. But why? The people who smiled and greeted him, who just the day before embraced him and bartered with him, now looked at him in scorn.

Footsteps drew near, and Caleb sat up straight, looking around with eyes open and ears perked.

"I understand if you don't want to, but if you'd rather sleep somewhere warm and dry, I have a place." A deep scratchy voice called out.

Caleb stood up and laughed. How ironic, he thought, the vagabond being the one to offer hospitality. "There's no other place I can go."

Stian nodded his head and waved. Caleb followed.

The place was a dugout under an overturned broken wagon. The floor was littered with empty porcelain liquor bottles, and the smell wasn't fantastic, but it was dry and out of the wind.

"Care for a drink?" Stian asked, offering a bottle. 

Caleb shook his head, and Stian shrugged, downing the liquid into his own mouth.

"I think I'll take my sheep and leave town tomorrow, Caleb said.

"Hm." Stian grunted.

"They don't want us here anyway."

"Hm."

There was a long silence.

"You know," Stian slurred. "I keep thinking about what the ancient master said."

"About what?"

"He asked where the other townsfolk were. Don't you remember?" Stian continued.

"Yes…"

"I can't leave. I said I would tell everyone. I don't think I can leave until they see the ancient master like we did."

Caleb nodded. He thought of Derk and Will. How shocked would they be to see their childhood dream come true, to see the wizard's palace and feast with him? Caleb fell asleep.

The next morning Caleb awoke and made his way to his flock, and Stian followed behind. Stian wasn't an impediment; the sheep followed his voice.

"Did you work with sheep before this?"

Stian nodded his head. "Yes, my wife was also a herder."

Caleb's jaw dropped open. "You were married."

Stian looked down at the ground. "Am."

"Is she in this village?"

Stian looked up. "What did you see in the palace?"

Caleb stroked his chin. "I smelled meat and bread, I saw the white walls, and I saw the ancient master."

Stian sighed, "but you didn't see anyone else?"

Caleb shook his head. "I mean, I saw a crowd of strangers."

Stian nodded his head. "Interesting."

The two went silent again, only tending to the sheep. 

At noon, there was a rustling in the bushes. Someone was watching them. Caleb lifted a knife bound to his hip, and Stian shook his head, motioning for Caleb to sheath it once more.

He slowly made his way to the bush and whispered. "Don't worry. You can come out."

A blonde girl with dazzling eyes emerged from the bushes.

"Why were you watching us?" Caleb asked.

The girl looked down. "Neither of you seems so bad, like they say." 

"Like who says?" Caleb snapped.

The girl took a step back. 

Stian shook his head. "It's ok. We aren't angry."

The girl looked up at Caleb. "The townspeople said you were liars, usurpers."

Caleb cocked his head to the side. "Against Hraf?"

The girl nodded her head. "But I don't believe them."

Stian looked up at the girl hopefully. "Do you believe we saw the palace?"

The girl smiled. "I don't know why Caleb would lie. No one believed you, to begin with, and no one looks at him the same."

Stian nodded his head.

The girl sighed. "I always wondered when the palace would come. What is it like?"

Caleb stepped forward. "It shines, it's… I'm not sure if words can describe it. You'd have to see it."

The girl frowned. "Do you think I can?"

Caleb's hands shook. He wanted to say she would see it, but who was he to make such a promise? But the words of the ancient master echoed in his mind. "Where are the other villagers?"

Caleb's voice quaked. "Go and see."

The girl smiled and headed off. "Thank you!" She called. "My name is Eiga, by the way. It was good to meet you."

Hours passed by, and the sun began to set. Caleb turned to Stian. "If we are going to stay in the village. We have to be a part of it. We must go and listen to the bard."

Stian smiled. "I've been waiting all day to hear you say that."

The two made their way to the village center, walking ever so confidently. Everyone grew silent once they saw them. The bard didn't begin his recitations. He scowled and leaned onto his walking stick, waiting for Stian and Caleb to speak. But they were resolute in staying silent.

Hraf growled. "Why did you return?"

But the two remained silent.

Hraf snarled. "There is no space for a liar amongst us!"

A little blonde girl stood up. "I'm Eiga, and I know that I am not even ten, so I do not know much. But today, I went to the mountain, and I saw my father."

A cloaked woman whose skin was caked in dirt slowly looked up and yanked the girl's tattered tunic and whispered. "Eiga, not now."

Though it was dark, and no one could see Eiga's misty eyes, they all heard her voice crackle. "My father died last winter, and that isn't all I saw. I saw the palace, and I smelled a feast. And I saw the Ancient Master upon his throne!"

Hraf growled. "Enough!" He threw his walking stick and limped away. The village people soon shuffled out. Many shooting snide remarks, glaring or even spitting at Caleb and Stian.

Eiga, the little girl, went running up to them, giving a smile as illuminating as the noon star. "Thank you. I saw my father. He was there in the courtroom. He was baking a cake. He said it was for a feast. And that we would join him very soon!"

The cloaked woman hobbled up to Eiga and moaned with a voice as shrill as death. "My husband was taken from me. And now you wish to take my daughter. Please, don't pollute her mind. My heart can't take it anymore."

Stian nodded his head and walked away. Caleb was unsure of what to do and followed behind.

As Caleb descended into the dwelling, Stian cracked open a bottle. "Would you like a drink?"

Caleb nodded his head. He gladly took it and emptied it all on the ground. 

Stian sputtered in disbelief.

Caleb folded his arms. "No more lying, Stian."

Stian stared at the wasted whiskey with a woeful expression.

Caleb tossed the bottle out of the dwelling and then threw the others out as well. "You're not a drunk. You're a bard."

The two sat in silence for a moment. And then Caleb spoke out again. "Eiga says she saw her father, and you saw your wife? How did she die?"

Stian's voice cracked. "He'd be about your age now."

"You had a son? So your wife died in childbirth?"

Stian nodded his head slowly up and down.

Caleb tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind. Finally, the two closed their eyes, and that's when it came to him. "Stian?"

"Yes?"

"Next time we see the palace, will you introduce me to your son?"

Stian nodded his head. 

The next day the two worked in silence, that was, at least until a small band approached. It was a group of boys and girls led by Eiga. 

Caleb smiled. "Did you take them up the mountain?"

"Yes!" They replied in unison.

The children excitedly rattled off, describing the music and smells, the people they recognized in the crowd, their siblings, grandparents, and friends. And above all, the ancient master.

Caleb taught them how to tend the sheep as he listened to their stories. They thanked him for his bravery.

But as the day drew on, Caleb noticed something. One of his ewes was missing. His face turned red with panic, and he shot up, Stian following behind. 

Losing a sheep wasn't all that uncommon, but something seemed different. Caleb's heart pounded. A trail of blood led him to a bush. He found a heap of torn flesh, crushed bone, and ravaged wool. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

"What's wrong?" Eiga called.

Stian motioned for her and the other children to step away.

"Go home, children. We need you to leave and don't come back."

Tears streamed down Eiga's cheeks. "Was it a wolf?"

Stian bit his lip. "Something much more vile." 

The children left. And the two worked till sunset.

They didn't say anything but made their way to the village center. This time everybody turned away, and whenever Caleb or Stian waved, no one acknowledged them. 

Hraf recited his poems, speaking first about the first sacrifice and man and then about the palace and the ancient master. But then several of the children stood up. "We saw it!" They called. 

Hraf roared. "Impossible! You are all filthy liars!"

The old lady in the cloak stood up tears streamed down her cheeks. "Master Hraf, I beg you for my Daughter's forgiveness. Her heart is broken, and she has gone mad with grief. I believe we should take her up the hill. And show her that there is nothing."

Hraf roared like a bear shaking his finger at the woman. "No! And this will be the last we hear of this nonsense. Take your daughter away."

The old lady solemnly nodded her head and took Eiga away. She didn't protest. She didn't say anything. She just trailed behind with her soft little gaze, just like a lamb.

The townspeople soon followed, leaving Stian and Caleb alone. They hobbled along silently to their humble dwelling. They went to sleep immediately.

 Caleb woke up the next morning, making his way to the field. Stian followed behind, but Caleb's eyes bulged. A trail of blood painted the emerald grass. His heart pounded. He followed it to a bush, and his heart froze. The strength in his knees disappeared, and he let out one twisted scream. A sound so foul that it can only be made by the shattering of every fiber of the soul. 

Stian opened up the bush and roared. "Eiga!"

The townspeople soon made their way over. Derk was one of the first, and also Hraf.

Derk looked down at the bloody bush. "No wolf could do such a vile thing." 

Hraf bent down, running his hands through the mess, lifting a bloodied knife. "Whose is this?"

Caleb's jaw dropped; he reached for his side. It was missing.

Derk gasped and tightened his fist. "That's Caleb's knife!"

The townspeople encircled him and Stian, tightening their fists. 

Caleb didn't say anything. He couldn't speak, but even if he could, what would he say? It didn't matter because the town hated him. 

The townspeople cried out, punching them repeatedly. They came upon them like a wave knocking them both to the ground. The villagers trampled on their bodies like a herd of wild beasts until every bone in their bodies was broken.

Many of the children watched in the bushes, yelping and screaming. "It isn't true. They were Eiga's friends!"

Hraf roared. "No! They are liars and murderers!"

Both Caleb and Stian were still breathing though every breath was much weaker.

Hraf waved his hand, "take them to the sacred hill!"

The two were dragged like rag dolls through the village and up to the hill. Its face was covered by heavy mist. 

The two were led to oak poles, standing above bundles of kindling, a place where sheep were brought to be sacrificed. Their eyes were both swollen and covered in blood, but they cast a gaze at each other.

The village people bound them up and set the kindling ablaze.

Warm sparks nipped at Caleb's feet. The flame crackled and shot up, tearing into his legs. The flames grew higher, boring into his flesh. He let out a shrill scream, and the pain subsided.

He closed his eyes, and all he felt was the warmth of the sun tickling his body. Caleb gave one large smile flowing with light. "Stian, your dream was true. We are becoming the sun."

A little blond girl stood in front of Caleb, clad in a purple robe.

"Eiga?"

She nodded her head and reached out. Caleb took it, and she took him running up the hill.

"Caleb!" A voice called.

He turned to see Stian standing with a slender red-haired woman and a brunette boy. 

Caleb embraced Stian and turned to the boy standing next to him.

"Your father is a great man.” Caleb said.

The boy smiled. "Thank you for helping him find us. Are you hungry?"

Caleb nodded his head. The boy motioned for them to follow. They came to the palace, an upbeat fanfare playing. A crowd of people was dancing, but when Caleb approached, they parted ways leaving a path forward. 

Caleb knelt down, and a soft voice called out. "Rise up, oh sun."

Caleb slowly stood up, staring at the ancient master who had descended from his throne. The master pointed to the figures carved on the throne, men wielding swords and bows, slaying beasts and monsters. They were the founders of Caleb's people. "Who are these?"

"Those are my first fathers," Caleb replied. 

The ancient master smiled and pointed above the depictions of Caleb's fathers and their heroic deeds. Over their heads, atop the throne, shone the carving of the mighty sun. Beneath the sun were two figures consumed in flame.