November 24

Word Count: 2,798

They were busy enough not to pay any attention to him. Each family group seemed only interested in filling up their wagon, or their arms, as in some cases as full as possible with various sized husks. The mood was cheery, as they called to each other as they harvested, still amazed that the husks grew back as soon as they'd been chopped off.

Iber could not see the family to wish them well, but he doubted they would miss his goodbye. It was probably better to leave just as mysteriously as he appeared. Iber would be the messenger of the Great Mages and not one himself. At least not until he figured out how he'd sprouted white plants that grew everything from bread rolls to blankets.

As he headed back out onto the main road atop his horse, he noticed that all the traffic was heading back the way he came. Everyone seemed to have heard of the field, and everyone admonished him to turn around and glean its fruit. Iber grinned. By inadvertently helping one family, he'd managed to help all of his father's dependents, and perhaps several other lords' as well. No one in the surrounding area would have to worry about the pain of hunger. They wouldn't have to feel the bite of cold. He would save his father the trouble of miserly rationing out the stores he demanded as taxes and rent fees for his land this winter. On top of that, his son would be going to court on the princess's personal invitation where he could quite easily find a wealthy, pretty bride.

By the time Iber reached the gatehouse that marked the beginning of the manor proper, Iber's happy humming had almost turned into full out singing. He spurred his horse into a gallop and took a short cut across the well mannered lawn to the tall colonnades that stood at the entrance to the mansion.

Iber dismounted and suddenly felt very awkward. Usually one of the stable boys ran up in a flurry to take his horse to the stable. No one appeared. Knowing his horse would head in that direction anyway, Iber gave him a slap on the rump and the horse trotted in the right direction.

The marble steps of the mansion were normally impressive, yet something was missing. It took Iber a moment to realize the line of footmen and the butler were also nowhere to be found. In fact, Iber couldn't remember a time when he'd not been met at the door of his father's estate.

He opened the door by himself and peered inside. The open space of the room was eerily silent. His boots were loud on the marble floor. The fire in the huge fireplace was cold and a chill was growing in the air. Iber knew if his father was still here, he'd be in the library.

"Hello," he called as he swung open the door.

"What are you doing here? You are just what I need," Iber's father shouted with a sarcastic bite in his voice. He sat in his chair, dwarfed by his desk which was piled high with old books and papers. His father was definitely not in a good mood.

"I've had a slight bit of adventuring," Iber began cheerfully.

"When are you going to learn that the world is not a happy place for children. It's a dismal hole in the ground where as soon as you dig yourself out, the walls fall in on you!"

"Where is everyone?" Iber asked, trying to change the subject.

"Gone! And here I was, trying to figure out how to get everyone back, and the only person I don't want comes strolling through the door." Iber's father thumped closed one of the heavy books one his desk. "Where have you been to have missed the All Great and Powerful Mages Wonderful Gift of Death and Anarchy?"

"What?" It was the only word Iber could think of to utter.

"A field of death. White plants that grow everything. The news spread like plague. A messenger, a nobleman on a horse, harbinger of anarchy infected everyone last night."

"Death and anarchy? Surely you don't think the Great Mages had that in mind. It was a gift of food for starving people."

"Right. Starving people receive and endless supply of goods. More than they could ever need. More than they could ever want. No reason to work the fields, or scrub floors, or tend to horses when I can just go pluck my breafast from a tree!"

"Is that where everyone has gone? To the field?"

"Every single last one of them." Iber's father ripped a piece of paper in two.

"Well, surely they come back tonight."

"Why should they? They've no need now for the wages I pay. They could care less that I am their lord. If I ask for taxes, they'll freely give me their goods, and go pick some more for themselves. That's if I could pay a man to collect the taxes… for why shouldn't he go a picking? It's not enough that the Great Mages deserted us one hundred years ago, leaving us to fend for ourselves, throwing us into war as the balance of power changed. They have to come back and single handedly with one wave of their hand completely desecrate our economy." He threw a book against the wall to emphasize his point. Iber had never seen his father this upset.

"But after a little change, won't things settle down to normal? They'll be better." Iber was getting desperate. If his father found out he had created the field, he'd never forgive Iber.

"You've never seen it Iber, the way power really works. You either have it, or you don't, and people who don't have it are afraid of people who do. It's the way things are supposed to be. With no fear of starvation, or poverty, I have no power. I'm just an old man in a big empty house. And you are a young man, with no place or power in the world and none coming to you." Iber's father seemed to shrink into his chair. He looked old and empty. Pitiful.

"I'll change it," Iber stuttered. "I'll fix it."

His father sighed. "Yes, Iber, go fix the world. Go fix it. But don't come back here when you think you're done. You've nothing to inherit from me."

"But father…"

"Go!" Iber Menymus the Elder shouted, rising out of his chair for a moment with the force of the word, before settling back down into his crinkling shell.

Iber stumbled back out the library and up the stairs to his rooms in a daze. Slightly disoriented he searched for his closets and walked inside. Iber couldn't remember ever being in his closet before. A valet had always fetched his clothing before. Iber was mesmerized by the amount of clothing he actually owned. He noticed a pale rose overcoat he had forgotten he owned.

"Why am I thinking about coats?" He asked to no one in particular. No one answered. He couldn't answer the question himself.

His father was a bitter old man that had no idea of what the world was truly like. He was completely and absolutely wrong about everything. Or so Iber told himself.

Iber found his favorite hat on a peg and a hatbox on the top shelf. The hat seemed silly now, but once he'd dealt with the people in the field and proved his father wrong, Iber never wanted to come back. It was the emptiness in his father's eyes. Iber knew that if he stayed and made up with his father, he'd become more like him every passing year. Iber had no desire to be like his father.

After grabbing several outfits out of the closet and packing them into a light trunk, Iber marched down the empty staircase, pausing to glare briefly at the library door where his father swam in his own self pity.

"Goodbye Father! You'll not see me again." Iber shouted loudly as he left. His father did not come out to stop him. Iber rounded the side of the house and entered the stables. Here, he was surprised to find Ghert, the head stableman and his son.

Noting Iber's surprise Ghert said casually while shoveling hay, "Don't expect my greed to get in the way of tending to the horses. They've never done anything to be left to starve in their stalls."

"I thank you." Iber said as he dropped his trunk and hat box.

"Don't thank me. Not doing it for you, nor your father. And I've sent my youngest to go pick up some goodies." Ghert flashed a toothy grin.

"I'll saddle my own horse," Iber stated.

"Yes. You will," Ghert replied. Iber wandered further into the stable and saw his own horse. At the sight of Iber, the horse rolled his eyes and backed away. He was quite comfortable in his stall.

"I get the point. You've had enough adventuring." Iber sighed. He'd need to find another horse, one that would be impressive at court. He smiled wickedly. If he wasn't coming back to face his father's wrath, he'd take the best. His father owned him at least that much.

Darkness was a fitting name for the pure black stallion his father kept for himself, but hardly rode. Ghert rolled his eyes but said nothing as Iber led him out of the stall. In a few minutes, Iber had him saddled and ready to ride. Bright Light was a pretty little filly Iber had always enjoyed riding. She'd be perfect for packing a few light supplies. Iber chose a more sedate and steady Carrot for Saratin. If they had to trek through the forest again, they wouldn't be short a horse… and one wouldn't be a nag on its last leg.

Iber didn't say goodbye to Ghert and Ghert didn't acknowledge his departure. With his train of three of the finest horses in his father's stable, Iber headed back to Ladona.

The roads were strangely vacant with no traffic other than Iber going in either direction. He would have expected to see triumphant loads of goods being transported back to cottages and people bragging one another about their haul. Instead, there were two narrow ruts stretching onward silently surrounded by empty fields.

Iber was beginning to feel the heavy heartedness he had been pushing back since leaving his father's house. His breaths were sounding more like sighs than normal respiration and the growing need to either scream or smack something was growing within him. Perhaps a visit to the happy family would cheer him. He was almost to the busy field of white.

Iber clicked his horses into a faster pace. After another mile or two, Iber was almost certain he should be able to spot the conspicuous white beacons waving in the wind. Indeed, he'd certainly gone far enough. Iber suddenly noticed the plow sitting in the half tilled field on his right. It was completely barren. The stalks that he'd apparently wished out of thin air had returned to wherever they had come from.

This wasn't exactly bad news. By now, the family would have gathered everything they needed for the winter, and would not risk starving. It would also save his father from his self created dilemma when all the workers returned tomorrow having no permanent and free food supply. They would once again be forced to rely on his father to make sure they had wages to pay him his taxes so he could pay their wages.

Iber turned his horses up the little path that ran along the edge of the field to the cottage. There was no cheery light on in the window. In fact, there seemed to be a heavy gloom hanging around its sad little roof and crooked door. Iber was drawn around the backside of the cottage by the sound of a shovel.

Two men were digging holes. The elder one raised up and held his shovel combatantly. The younger, seeing Iber, laid a hand on him to stop him.

"It's the one who brought the message," he said simply. Recognizing the neighbor's son, Iber assumed the elder must be the neighbor.

"Well, there's nothing left here, so you might as well get going."

"What happened? Where's the family?" Iber asked.

"Over there." The man stated, pointing to a sheet on the ground. It took Iber a moment to process the information. He stared at the sheet quizingly for a moment before seeing the woman's motionless fingertips peering out from underneath.

"How?" The word was whispered, almost nonexistent as it managed to force its way passed Iber's rapidly closed throat.

"They came. Everyone came," the son blurted out quickly. At first it was fine. There were a hundred people in the field, all picking and choosing. Then they started to argue. They started to claim plants as their own. They staked off sections and threatened anyone who came near them. Of course the Meelens tried to stop them. They told them it was for everyone, that it was a gift. When one of the men slapped her away, her husband defended her, and right in front of us, they stabbed him. Then her. Tried to grab the girl, but it was too late. She tried to rush them and he snapped her neck and laughed. The moment the Meelens took the last breath, the field shriveled up and died." The son stuck his shovel in the ground hard. "At least they got what they deserved. Killing for something that doesn't have to be killed for."

"Nobody didn't have to die at all. Upsetting the natural order of things." The old man didn't break his rhythm, he just stared accusingly at Iber. The air was closing in, getting heavier, pushing at Iber. His head swam. He couldn't stay here. Iber had to put as much distance as possible between him and the… he couldn't even name it in his own head.

The chain of horses galloped back to the main road and Iber tried to lose himself in the powerful rhythm of the horse. He had no doubt that he was the cause of the Meelens death. And what retribution could he offer to the dead? The smile of the woman and the enthusiasm of the young girl as they reaped their death kept running through his head.

He brought the horses up short as he almost ran over the old man in the road. "What kind of fool are you, to stand in the middle of the road!" Iber yelled. It felt good to shout. It felt very good.

"Only a fool who would stop and talk to you. It's not your fault, you know."

Iber found himself staring down at Nelyr the old crazy man from the forest. He was obviously still crazy.

"And what's not my fault?" Iber shouted again.

"Oh, the chaos and death behind you. Mortals always mess great gifts up. It's their lot in life. Their greed. Their short lives. We could give them everything, you know, but they'd managed to screw it up all the same. They never change."

"I want to fix it," Iber whispered. Nelyr had been a Great Mage for centuries, if he could be believed. Surely he knew how to undo the damage Iber had caused.

"It's very simple, really… once you know how to do it. But the power takes time to manage. The power is a massive thing. It must be wielded carefully."

Iber sighed. The last thing he wanted was another lecture from an old man about power. "I don't want the power. I just want things back the way they were. Can you do that?"

"Perhaps you could. I can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm old now… the magic is drained from me. What you ask is impossible for me." The old mage paced. "There might be a way, but no… I do not think…"

"Tell me."

"It is possible to transfer power. If we transferred your powers to mine, then I could undo what you've done."

"Then do it. I have no use for power I don't know how to manage."

"Are you quite sure?"

"Yes." Before Iber could ask how it was done, Nelyr raised his hands above his head and Iber felt his breath being sucked out of his lungs. He fought the feeling for a moment before relaxing. The world was already feeling distant. Iber slouched over the front of his horse and felt the warmth drain from him.

Just as his eyes closed, Iber felt a voice laugh gently into his ear. "They weren't really dead, you know." Iber's world went blank.