Prologue
The sun
was setting over Sunderland and Acadia Abbey. Devon had fallen asleep on the
look out above the manicured grounds. His auburn fur rippled in the summer
breeze, and the white star on his forehead gleamed in what remained of the late
afternoon sunlight.
He was
still young, but he was maturing quickly. Although he was rash at times, he was
a strong and clever fox. He loved the monks of the abbey, especially Colum. The
old bilby monk had taught him many things about the wild world and soon he
would be old enough to leave the abbey and be a part of it. After the tragic
death of his mother and father, Colum had taken him in. Devon looked after
Colum now that the small mouse-like marsupial was beginning to age. The young
fox was dedicated to him and the other monks of the abbey as well. But he often thought of the father and mother
he lost. How different life would have been if the tragedy had never happened,
if he had never lost them. Still, he was happy here at Acadia. He had all he
needed, and life was peaceful. Peaceful, that is, until today.
In the soft rustling of sleep, Devon thought he heard the
warning bell of the abbey ring. Startled, he sprung to his feet. The warning bell, he thought. Did I really hear it? Drowsy from his
nap, he stumbled as he sprinted toward the tower door. The bell rang again. He
stopped to glance over the wall. Cries could be heard rising from the grounds
below. Flames shot out from the windows of the scriptorium. The monks of the
abbey were running in every direction.
A troop of dragon lizards approached on great hind claws,
running up the slope from the billabong toward the abbey. Devon had heard of
the lizards but had never seen one. Colum, his adoptive father, once told him
about how they traveled alone in the western lands of Sunderland, but these
lizards were not loners. They were organized, clad in thick leather armor and
carrying flaming torches as they ran across the lawns from the forest. Stunned,
he placed his front paws on top of the rampart wall. Leaning over it, he
scanned the grounds below, trying to understand what was happening. He gasped
as one lizard threw a lit torch through an open window. Across the lawn, near
the gardens, two lizards laughed as they tossed a small monk between them. One
monk was being dragged across the lawn and down to the banks of the billabong,
where he was thrown into the water. Several lizards had broken through the main
gate. They are in the abbey. The
thought terrified him. Colum, he must reach Colum.
Devon
pushed away from the wall and ran. Flames and acrid smoke met him as he opened
the tower door. He buried his muzzle in the crook of his arm and took a step
inside. Fire was consuming the wooden stairs.
He began descending the steps, leaping over the flames, but the steps
and railing were burning. He could see that the framework of the staircase was
breaking away from the stone wall. It began to shake beneath him, and the
center pole holding it in place was burning. He would not be able to descend
the steps any farther. He threw himself out toward the center post, grabbing it
just as the stairs broke beneath him. Flaming pieces of wood fell to the floor
below, and hot embers drifted up around him. He pushed away from the post and
dropped the final distance to the floor.
Huge wooden
pillars and a series of immense wooden beams supported the high-arched ceiling
of the nave. He watched in horror as the blaze grew from the floor toward the
roof. The entrance to the scriptorium was down a corridor at the far end of the
nave.
DRAGON
LIZARD
Devon sprinted it. As he turned
into the scriptorium’s outer hallway, he found himself blocked by a pile of
smoking timbers.
“Father!”
he screamed as he began to climb over the debris. “Where are you?” There was no
reply. A cracking sound came from above. Startled, Devon lost his footing and
fell to the stone floor. Over the noise of the crumbling roof, Devon heard an
evil, guttural growl. Turning toward the sound, he saw a creature creeping
toward him through the smoke and flames. It was a thylacine. Its mouth, full of
saber-like teeth, hung open and its wicked yellow eyes drilled into his. From somewhere in his memory, Devon
recognized the knifelike canines, heard echoes of its malevolent growl, and
felt the same hatred he had felt years before emanating from the evil beast.
The wolf-like body was thin and half-striped like that of a tiger, and its
thick tail trailed behind it, scraping the stone floor. Frozen with fear,
Devon’s heart beat as though it would burst from his chest. He shook his head
in disbelief as he scrambled on all fours, backing away.
“The
Demon,” Devon whispered under his breath. Shivers crept up his spine as
memories came flooding back. Demon is what his biological father had called the
thylacine back on that fateful day.
“Yes, you can call me that. But my name is Flitch!” The
thylacine spat out his name like a curse. “I remember you!” he hissed with
satisfying surprise. “You are my unfinished business.” Flitch took a step
closer to Devon. “It’s so nice to see you,” he said with an evil grin. “You got
away once, but it won’t happen again.”
A loud crack from above warned that a rafter was weakening.
Devon ducked into a small alcove as a beam crashed to the floor. It broke into hundreds of sharp shards,
sending burning projectiles in all directions. One struck the thylacine in his
hind leg, and he let out a scream of pain that echoed throughout the
abbey. He limped toward Devon, who
scrambled up the pile of smoldering wood to get away from him. The injured
thylacine attempted to follow, but he could not climb the debris.
“Another
day, Fox!” he snarled. Turning, he staggered away.
Devon
climbed over the debris and continued on into the scriptorium. Desks were
overturned, and smoking remains of illuminated texts covered the floor like
snow.
“Father! Answer me!” Devon frantically peered through the
smoke and scanned the ruins of his father’s beloved library. He spied a small
paw sticking out from under a large desk at the far end of the room. The wall
behind the desk had partially fallen in and the stained glass window hung
precariously in its frame. The setting sun shone through what remained of the
image of the sword and created beams of light that covered the room in shades
of blue and green. The center stone on the sword’s hilt cast an eerie glow on
the top of the desk. Holding his breath Devon crossed the room and braced for
the worst. With all his strength, he groaned as he lifted the heavy oak desk.
It toppled over, sending ashes flying into the air, where they floated slowly,
like phantoms, in the shafts of the setting sunlight. Colum’s small body was
curled in a ball seeming somehow even smaller in death. Lifting his father,
Devon’s tears flowed shamelessly. With his father’s body resting in his arms he
left the abbey through a gap in the wall where the dragons had torn down the
stones. Bilby monks ran frantically across the grounds and fields outside the
walls, putting out fires, attending to the wounded and gathering the dead. He
could see the dragon lizards heading away from the abbey in the distance, their
cruel laughter reaching his ears as they disappeared into the forest. It was a
vision that Devon would never forget. Once, long ago, Colum had carried Devon
to the safety and warmth of Acadia Abbey. He would now carry his father away
from the wreckage of the abbey and lay his body down on the banks of the
billabong.
FLITCH
As he knelt beside Colum’s body, he tried to recall the
lessons he had been taught. “See not with just your eyes, Devon, but with your
mind and heart as well. You are a part of this wild world, and cannot separate
yourself from it.”
His thoughts drifted back to their talk earlier in the
day.
He was
leaning over Colum’s shoulder. He had stood there with his paws clasped tightly
behind his back watching Colum’s quill move smoothly across the parchment. The
illuminated texts produced by the mouse-like bilby monks of Acadia Abbey were
beautifully drawn and painted with vibrant colors, etched in gold leaf. The
texts were a treasure known throughout Sunderland. They not only contained the
history of the abbey but hinted at its mysteries as well.
For Devon,
the greatest mystery was the image of the sword in the large stained glass
window. Devon glanced up; the window dominated the scriptorium and the grounds
of the abbey. In the middle of the window an image of a magnificent sword
pointed toward the earth. The glass was stained a deep green at the center of
the sword’s hilt, where the legendary emerald stone of Demelza was depicted. No
one at the abbey was certain where the sword was, but Devon knew that many
stories of its powers had been told. Tinted rays of light poured down into the
scriptorium from the colored glass panes. Colum had yet to tell Devon the
significance of the sword, though he had asked about it many times. Why would a
sword in a stained glass window dominate a peaceful abbey such as Acadia? What
was its importance?
Had Colum become shorter over the
years, or maybe I have become taller,
Devon thought. He now towered over Colum.
He wore a golden muslin vest over dark blue pants. A belt was cinched
tightly around his vest at the waist. A small dagger and leather pouch hung
from the belt.
“Father, you said you would tell me about the abbey’s
beginnings.” With his eyes still lingering on the sword’s image, he rested his
chin on his father’s shoulder, continuing his quick chatter. “How did the
bilbies become monks and build the abbey?”
The small
scratching of Colum’s quill hesitated briefly, and Devon’s eyes were drawn to
the parchment. Encouraged by the pause, Devon pressed on. “You promised to tell
me about Aldon, the Great Numbat that saved them—how they built the abbey to
honor him. And the sword, Father, it was his sword, wasn’t it? Aldon’s sword
would be a better weapon than that old wooden staff you found with me all those
years ago.”
“Yes, yes, my son!” He laughed. “I did promise to tell you
of the sword, didn’t I?” Colum placed his quill in the inkwell and shifted the
worn brown fabric of his monk’s habit. Dropping to the floor from his stool, he
stood before Devon. The top of his head came to Devon’s waist. “When did you
grow so tall?” He laughed, tugging playfully on the tip of Devon’s vest. “You
are certainly not the small kit I carried from the forest so long ago; along
with that old staff, as you call it. You may yet find that ancient staff to be
useful, my son. I have a feeling that it may have more meaning, and more power
than we know.”
Devon bent down and hugged his father, lifting him off the
floor. Releasing him from his arms, he
set him back down. “Power in a wooden staff?” Devon chuckled. “All I know for
sure is that it was a lucky day for me and a terrible one…” A shiver passed
through him as he thought of the terrible creature that had killed his father and
mother. He recalled the horrifying image of the beast attacking them. He could
see its sharp teeth. Its frightening voice shook him to his very core. The
memory haunted his dreams. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t
happened along.”
“It was the will of Aldon that I found you that day,” Colum
said quietly. He shook his head as he looked up at Devon. “I am as lucky as
you, my dear boy. I am lucky to have had
you by my side all these years.” He took Devon’s paw in his. “Alright, my son,
if you want to know more about the abbey, I’ll tell you.” Touching a claw to
his forehead in contemplation, he said, “What have we discussed thus far? My
memory is not as good as it once was.”
Devon barked a laugh. “You bilbies may as well have taken a
vow of silence for all that you told me thus far. All I know is what I see; it’s a building of
stone and wood and it overlooks the waters of Kakadu Billabong.” He thought about the lovely red lilies
covering the surface of the lake, about how the monks of the abbey spent many
hours lost in meditation along its banks. The bilbies, small animals with
pointy inquisitive noses and long ears that stood up stiffly on their heads,
were quick and lively, and took great pride in their abbey. Not only had they
been his family all these years, they were also known by many of the forest
inhabitants for their charity and caring nature.
“I love it
here. But, still, I have so many questions, questions that you promised to
answer for me.”
“You’re right, my son. But right now I would like to finish
my work while the sun still shines on my parchment. Tonight we’ll have dinner
on the banks of the billabong and we’ll talk.” Colum hopped back up onto his
stool. “I have a few more hours before the sunlight leaves the scriptorium.
Then I’ll tell you everything.” He
grinned at Devon, his bright eyes sparkling in the light that shone down
through the stained glass window.
“Ok.” Devon grinned. Placing one arm gently
across Colum’s back, he said softly, “One day soon I’ll leave the abbey. I’ll
go out on my own. You know this.” Colum looked up at Devon and Devon saw sorrow
in Colum’s eyes. “I’ll visit the Wingcarrabee Swamp. And perhaps I’ll make it
as far as the Pinnacles Desert. I’ll visit all the places you’ve told me about,
and I’ll tell everyone I meet about the wonderful monks of Acadia Abbey.”
“Yes, yes, you are certainly old enough to set out on your
own.” Colum looked down at his paws and rubbed them nervously. “I was hoping
you might stay one more season.”
“We don’t
have to talk about that now, Father.”
Colum
hesitated for a moment then waved at Devon, shooing him off.
“Run along
now, you young rascal!”
Devon turned and walked toward the doors of the
scriptorium. “I’m going up the tower to
the parapet walk,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll be back for dinner.” He
listened to Colum laugh as he walked out the immense double doors.
Heading
through the nave of the abbey toward the tower, he noticed two monks coming
toward him. The parapet walk was high enough above the abbey to serve as a
lookout, and the monks took turns watching over the grounds.
”Brother
Alfred, Brother Edgar,” Devon nodded, acknowledging them, and they nodded in
return, smiling up at Devon.
“Taking
watch on the parapet this afternoon, Devon?” Alfred asked. “Or will you just be
napping up there?” The two monks chuckled to themselves, holding their paws in
front of their snouts, trying hard not to laugh out loud.
“You know
me too well,” Devon replied with a smile and a wave of his paw.
At the top
of the tower he opened the door and stepped out onto the walk. He strolled
toward the crenellated wall. Leaning over the wall, Devon looked out across the
grounds of the abbey. A wide expanse of grass gradually ended at the edge of
the waters of the billabong and the hills of Sunderland rose up on the far side
of the lake. From his vantage point he could see several monks working in the
gardens, while others were engaged in quiet conversation or reading beside the
sparkling water. It was peaceful. He moved to the other side of the walkway and
settled down. Leaning his back against the stone wall, he closed his eyes to
rest for a bit.
Now, Colum
rested on the banks of the billabong. Raising his eyes toward the ruined
monastery, Devon saw a small group of monks gathering on the lawn. They spoke quietly with one another, a
mixture of fear, worry, and sadness etched on their faces.
He
continued to gaze at the abbey and the remains of the stained-glass window. The
sword’s colors were dark now that evening approached. What was the purpose of
the sword? The image of a terrible weapon meant only to bring harm and pain had
always seemed a strange object for the peace-loving monk’s abbey. The sword
seemed to shimmer with a life of its own in the evening light. For a moment, he
thought he saw the thylacine standing beneath the tip of the sword, but it was
just his imagination. He drew in a deep breath, and then dropped his head to
look at Colum. He vowed to find out why this happened and who had brought this
destruction down upon the abbey. He would have to look deeper, as his father
had taught him. The mystery of the sword
would remain for now. There were other questions that needed answers. He may
never understand why a sword was emblazoned in the stained glass window, but
that didn’t matter anymore. Colum was gone. The time for stories and mysteries
was over. He furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes as anger took hold. There
was only time for revenge. He would take up his own weapon, the ancient wooden
staff that Colum had found with him so many years ago. Devon knew nothing of its powers, but he
would wield it against those who had brought pain and terror to his home. He
would hunt down the dragon lizards. He would kill the thylacine. He would make
them pay for what they had done this day, for what they had done to his father.
The screech of an owl echoed through the woods beyond the
billabong, and a feeling of dread came over Devon. The time had come for him to
leave the place he had come to know as home.
DEVON
