Vicarious Ways

When I was a child, my friends would always tease me. I suppose it was because I was so naďve. One of the most common taunts was the fact that I didn’t know what a “shadowspawn” was and these “shadowspawn” would get me in the night. Like the sensible child that I was, I ignored the insults, but a longing remained to discover exactly what this “shadowspawn” threat was. No one would tell me when I asked.

The only person who I had not asked was the grizzled farmer who lived beyond the hill. As far as I knew, he was the oldest person living in our small farming community. Once my father and I visited him once to drop of a sack of corn and I saw a sword hanging over his mantle. I figured that he had to have been some kind of warrior in his youth. One morning I trekked over the hill to ask him.

“What do you want?” he asked in a gruff tone. I was nervous, but not afraid. “Why the Light would you want to learn about Shadowspawn,” he said whilst climbing down from a barn loft. “I suppose I owe it to you to tell you. I have a feeling that you should know this.” I followed him inside to his kitchen. “Don’t tell anyone what I am about to tell you, especially your father.” I bounced up and down. What a happy child I was. “Well? Sit down and let me tell you about what these creatures are really about.” He poured himself a cup of hot tea and told his story. I was very attentive.

“The first night I saw any sort of one of these monsters was long before you were born. I was a young man, but much older than you are now.” He sighed. “It was the night that I left my home.” His face turned sullen. “I’m going to tell you this story, boy, because I have no one else to tell.
“I was a young man trying to make a living in this world. I was farming and I was happy. My parents had passed away long years past and I had friends and a community to keep me going. It all changed the night that the Trollocs came. We could hear them howling in the distance, and they continued to get closer. Some of us tried to ignore it. ‘Oh it must be wolves,’ but wolves don’t sound like that, boy. ‘Maybe they’ll pass us by,’ but there was no mistaking that they were coming for us. It was frightening, I tell you. I’d never seen a Trolloc before, or any other kind of monster. I kind of relied on the information that the elders had. So we prepared. We gathered all the able-bodied men and assorted any kind of weapons we had. There wasn’t much. Most of us only had crude spears or wooden staves. It was a pathetic sight, us farmers thinking we were warriors. We didn’t even know why there would be monsters coming. I was lucky. My father had this sword stacked away under the floorboards, in case of emergency. But who would think there would be any emergency to merit a sword? My weapon was better than most.
“I was asleep in my home when they attacked. It was the middle of the night and few were posted guard duty. I awoke to the sounds of battle cries and crackling flames. I rushed outside to find a chaotic melee amidst a backdrop of burning and broken homes. The nearest Trolloc was a several paces away, leaning down on a wooden board, intent on crushing a trapped man with either its weight or its heavy pounding. I bounded above it, twisted my sword to a plunging degree and sunk the blade deep into the back of the hairy creature. It turned about with a dying glare in its horrible face and its inhuman scream took me aback.” He stared at the sword for some time before continuing.

“But as grotesque as a Trolloc might be, it in no way prepares you for the driving force. I could see through the leaping flames across the Town Square. In the center, there strode the Myrddraal. If there is anything I wish for you boy, it would be that you never see one of those creatures. It was a truly terrifying monster. I’ve heard men describe it as demonic. They’ve not missed the mark much. The wind would blow and fuel the surrounding fires, but the Myrddraal’s cloak would not move an inch. It walked with a gait that not even the proudest man could match, but its pride was not in accomplishment, but rather the cold confidence of power. Its sword was sinewy and was sinisterly jagged, like a coiled snake ready to strike with the most lethal of poisons. It absorbed light, almost as if the blade itself was evil.
“I staggered away. The monster alone would kill half a dozen men attacking simultaneously. I fell backwards through an old door into a small one-room home. I stood immediately and was confronted with a curious scene. Inside was Jasciu, our youngest elder and strongest warrior. He was clad in shining blue armor and his sword, hanging from his hip, was twice as large as mine was. With him were a husband and wife.

‘Thank the Light that you came,’ he said approaching me. I was about to protest, but he approached me and put something in my arms: a baby, recently born and wrapped tightly in a bundle. ‘Take this child and flee from this place,’ he commanded. I was very confused. ‘The child is what is important. It is why the Shadowspawn have come. You must protect him from them.’

‘What? I don’t understand.’

‘Of course not. But you must save this child from harm. That is all that you need to know.’

‘What about you? What about the parents?’

‘They are not the reason that the Myrddraal has come. I will stay and challenge it. We waste too much time talking…Go!’

“And so I ran. It was not my place to question my orders. I cradled the beautiful baby in my arms and ran. I scarcely looked back but could hear steel ringing at a furious pace. I took no notice of the burning sensations in my legs and leaped over rocky terrain and fresh grass. I was hardly away from the town when I bumped into the Aes Sedai. He had the crest of the Aes Sedai embroidered on his chest. He stood straight and tall from my view laying on the ground. He gently removed the child from my arms. Somehow it felt right to give him away.
“The Aes Sedai began to walk away and an armed contingent of professional police stepped forward to aid the town. ‘Wait!’ I called to the Aes Sedai. ‘Why is the child so important?’

He looked back at me, intensity shining from his eyes. ‘This child will save the world.’

“With the combined police and farmer fighting force, the monsters were outnumbered two to one and quickly were demolished. The Myrddraal was never found or killed and no one ever saw Jasciu again. The next week I left that place, with my belongings, my sword, and too many bad memories.
“I never did find out what happened to that baby.” He finished his cup of tea. “And that’s what Shadowspawn are, boy. Don’t ever forget it.”

And I’ve never had. Every time I see or hear about a Trolloc or Myrddraal I think about that old farmer. Everytime I fight one of them, I think of Jasciu. And everytime I defeat one of them, I think of the child.