The Armor of the King

Chapter I

THE CLIFF PEOPLE

The sun was shining particularly brightly through the wood-framed dome window in Caleb’s hut as he hurried to put on his white laced shirt, brown pants, and rope shoes. Most days Caleb would have taken time to enjoy the warm sunlight prickling his face, the sweet smell of the salty air, the squeaking of the seagulls flapping over the bay. But today was not just another day. Today Caleb was on a mission, and he only had a few hours left before the Summer Festival would begin. Caleb stirred a pot of fish stew that simmered on his stove, grabbed a bag of supplies, and stepped out of his door.

Caleb lived on the west coast of the Land in a fishing town called Cliff Cove. Like most of the other small towns in Land, the name known only to those who called it home.

The town itself was small, though its towering cliffs looked imposing to approaching ships far below. The village itself—an inn, a stable, and a variety of shops—rested flat on a grassland above the cliffs. The homes of Cliff Cove’s residents peppered the cliffs below, small wooden buildings jutting out from the rugged rock walls. The structures were complete with solid wooden floors and walls, high dome windows, and giant clam shell roofs. The Cliff People took pride in their ability to use all that the sea gave them. Every fall the oldest and weakest of the giant clams from the Great Sea would make their final journey into the waters of Cliff Cove and live out their last days in the warmth of the shallow waters. The Cliff People would hold a great feast in honor of their passing, then use the shells they left as protection from the weather.

Caleb hopped onto the stone steps outside his door, which quickly gave way to a bridge leading to the row of homes below his. The Cliff People were excellent climbers, for there were no roads to be found near their hill homes. Stone steps were carved into the side of the cliff leading from the town above to the houses below. Where no step could be carved, there was a bridge, rope, or ladder connecting house to house, all eventually leading to the main pathway on the north side of the cove. The main pathway led to a great stone arch, which opened up to a staircase carved out of the tough stone wall. Down and down the steps went until they reached the village’s docking bay. The Cliff Cove harbor was not outside like most, but housed inside a giant cave. The dark cave walls towered high above ships resting in the calm waters. The echoes of fishermen yelling loudly to each other seemed to resound forever inside those walls.

The Cliff People themselves were very hard working. Every man, woman, and child in the village worked six days a week. Cliff women worked in the town, making clothes, glass, tools, and planting crops along the coastal plains above the cliff walls. Some Cliff men stayed in town as well, running shops and businesses. Few were hunters who went on long journeys into the woods, being away from their family for days at a time, in search of meat. Like most Cliff men, however, Caleb was a fisherman. Six days a week he would leave his home early and head down the Great Staircase to where the fishing boats were docked. After the nets and boats were prepared for the day’s journey, the harbor master would walk up the ledge at the entrance of the cave, take a deep breath, and blow a conch shell to symbolize the commencement of the daily fishing voyage. All in unison the boats would leave out of the cave, into Cliff Cove, and ultimately out into the deep blue sea.

Even the children in Cliff Cove spent the first few hours of the day working with their parents, learning the trade of the family. In the afternoon they would go to the Great Hall to study reading, writing and history from the village historian, Mr. Muggles. He was a quirky, short, balding man. Most of the children spent their time in class making jokes about his height and trying not to giggle too loudly. In return Mr. Muggles would get angry and yell at them. But everyone knew that he couldn’t hurt a fairy if his life was on the line.

Though the children made fun of Mr. Muggles, the adults greatly respected him. He was the keeper of the books in the village. Books were such a rarity in those times. A single book was worth more than the most beautiful sapphire or ruby. Stories were told in the Great Hall of a time when books were everywhere. Families used to have whole cases of books in each home. People loved to read, and certain books gave direction to people’s lives. Legend even spoke of a time when a book existed that explained all of human life: where people came from, how people should live, and what would happen in the future. But those days, known to the Cliff people as the Old Age, had long passed. They lived in the Second Age. In the Second Age the Shadow Lord made it a point to destroy all books, and no one dared stand up to the Shadow Lord. Most people thought the legend of such a remarkable book was just that—a legend. But then again, Caleb thought, how could anyone really know with so few books still around?

Caleb loved the ocean and enjoyed being out on the waves each day, but something inside him longed for more. He always had a thirst for knowledge—knowledge of how things worked and how the ripples of the past brought forth tidal waves in the future. Caleb spent much of his time wondering about such things.

When Caleb was younger, he would ask his questions out loud to Mr. Muggles. Questions like, “Why would the Shadow Lord want all of the books in the world destroyed?” and “What is so important about the book from the Old Age?”

“Silence young man!” the teacher would snap. “Though I do believe such a book exists, it is unwise to speak of such things. The last thing we need is for the Shadow Lord himself to make a trip to our far corner of the Land and stir up trouble. It’s been so long since anyone has seen him. You know better than to blab on about that!” Even the simple life of a curious boy in Cliff Cove was always overshadowed by the fear of the Evil One and his power.

So six days a week Caleb tended to the nets, keeping his mouth shut but his mind busy. Today, however, was the seventh day of the week—the day when the Cliff People rested. Most people would be heading to the Great Hall to hear music or to listen to stories by Mr. Muggles. But today Caleb had plans of his own. He stepped off the main pathway and climbed down the ladder that led to the home of his best friend, Patrick.

“Come on you lazy bum!” yelled Caleb as he banged loudly on his friend’s door. “What are you so tired for? It’s not like you work all that hard anyways.”

“This is my one day to sleep in! Let me rest in peace!” Patrick shouted. But a moment later the door opened and Patrick welcomed his friend with a half-hearted smile.

“Alright, you’ve got five minutes. Make sure you bring your dagger. You’re going need it!” exclaimed Caleb as he paced impatiently around the small room.

“What? Think we are going to run into a sea dragon while we are out? Or perhaps a band of pirates?” chuckled the half awake Patrick.

“Sea dragons don’t exist. We have been over this before. You know you will need it for the mollusks. How else are we going to pry them open?” Caleb reminded him.

Patrick slipped on his rope shoes, fastened his dagger to his side, grabbed his water pouch, and the friends exited the house. They walked to the platform outside the door, climbed down the ladder, walked down the main walkway towards the great arch, and proceeded down into the docking bay.