Fil said, barely able to hide his excitement, and fear.
Jonas had always liked Fil more than the rest, and after the previous day’s occurrence his respect for him grew. When the kids would yell at him he always noticed that Fil didn’t participate, that he just stared at Jonas with pity, the same look that Fil gave Jonas the day before as they left Jonas sprawled out on the frozen ground.
Jonas leaned out from behind his mother. “Was he tall, with long black hair and did he go by the name of Airos?” Jonas asked.
“He did. How did you know that, Jonas?” Fil asked.
Jonas smiled. “I met him yesterday. He gave me a gold coin.”
His mother squeezed his arm gently. “That’s enough Jonas. Let’s see what this cavalier has to say.”
His mother gently helped Jonas walk down the street toward the grange. The grange was a great vaulted structure built with strong trees each as big around as a man’s waist. It was a large, simple building, big enough to sit at least a hundred people. There was a wooden stage facing rows of benches flanked by two great stone fireplaces with chimneys that rose to the ceiling twenty paces from the floor. Lorna and Jonas entered through the large double doors. The fires were blazing, casting an orange glow flickering across the room.
Airos stood on the stage addressing the confused and frightened townspeople. He was splendid in his shining armor and he had replaced his wool traveling cloak with a long green flowing cape. The cape was made from a light material that seemed to flutter around him as he moved.
Jonas wondered again how he kept so clean, but his thought was cut short as a rough hand reached out and grabbed Lorna by the arm. It was the butcher, Marsk.
“You are not wanted here. Get out and take your cripple with you,” the heavy set butcher whispered.
There were a few other people near them that joined in, whispering in fear for them to leave, and glancing at them with frowns.
Lorna held her ground, looking directly into the fat man’s eyes. “I have as much right to be here as you do. I am a member of this town whether…..”
Lorna was cut off as Marsk grabbed her arm tightly pulling her roughly towards him. “You have no right to be here, now get out,” he said, pushing her and causing her to stumble backwards.
Jonas tried to move out of his mother’s way but his body refused to react quickly enough. Lorna crashed into him and they tumbled to the floor. Several other townspeople began to taunt them, whispering curses and shooting them shunning stares as Jonas fumbled for his crutch.
Suddenly the entire room lit up with a bright light, and their voices hushed instantly. The light was pure white, and as it washed over everyone the feeling of tension subsided. Though the light was almost blinding, it caused them no harm. Quite the opposite; Jonas felt invigorated and happy as he slowly stood up, the insults becoming an increasingly distant memory. Everyone looked up; the light slowly dissipating from Airos’s outstretched hands. To Jonas’s eyes it looked like the light just drained into his body.
Airos looked directly at Jonas and his mother as they slowly stood. Jonas saw a hint of a smile before he turned his gaze on Marsk and several others. The change in his expression was so severe that Jonas thought he would draw his sword and strike Marsk down where he stood. Airos’s hawk-like eyes pierced Marsk’s tough façade, forcing him to look away.
“What is the meaning of this? Is not a woman and her boy welcome in the town’s hall?” Airos asked; his voice strong and demanding. Something in the powerful voice stirred Jonas to his core. He felt like he would follow this man to his grave and back. The white light was definitely magic and Jonas thought that maybe Airos was using magic in his voice as well. Having never experienced magic before, he just stared at Airos with awe, his every word reverberating through the hall like a god’s voice. Maybe it was a god’s voice thought Jonas.
The others felt it too. His voice was magical and commanding and everyone looked directly at him as if in a trance. Airos looked around the room slowly. “What kind of village is this that turns its back on its own townspeople? This boy is a cripple. The gods willed it so, for reasons