As the sun sank lower in the clear, summer sky, more and more travelers arrived at the Fireside Tavern for what looked to be the year’s best entertainment. All along the coast, each small village shared the same story of a tall man passing through under cover of the evening shadows and posting this message: “Hear one, hear all, of the greatest game of all time, a game of kings and jesters, of paladins and paupers, of clergy and scoundrels. Find riches and adventure beyond your dream, and sew into the winds your tale of legend and heroism. To the victor goes the spoils, and drinks for the rest.” Each message directed the townsfolk to the Fireside Tavern on this night.
The noise in the tavern rose and fell like ocean waves as long time friend took this chance to reminisce of yesterdays. A minstrel played gleeful tunes from a stage made from an overturned crate. Barmaids ran drinks speedily across the room always, their bright yellow blouses fitting in perfectly with the evening’s festivities. Behind a wood-stained bar, a broad shouldered yeoman joyously denied any knowledge of what this was all about. Tannin was his name, handsome as he was with his thick blond hair, told the story over and over of an older traveler asking to rent the tavern for one evening. The old man flashed five silver coins, to which Tannin didn’t hesitate to accept.
Evening came to the tavern, and the merriment pushed on into the late hours when without warning the door to the tavern burst open wide, banging loudly against the wall. A chill breeze blew past the shadow filling the doorway. The hushed crowd stared intently at the stranger with both anticipation and anxiety. Certainly, a man such as this had to be their entertainment.
His dark cloak draped to the floor and its hood cast a deep shadow over his eyes. Hanging from his chin was a silver colored beard that looked like streaks of lightening falling from a mischievous smile. He pulled back his hood to reveal deep-set, solid black eyes, and he slowly walked to the other end of the tavern. All eyes were drawn to him. Even the minstrel stopped scribbling down the forming tale, leaving the room silent.
Then, as if a candle had been lit in a dark room, the man threw the crowd a broad smile, melting the mounting tension in the room, and immediately people began to murmur in the excitement. “You have all traveled many miles for a good show. I promise not to disappoint you.” His voice was not deep so much as perfectly clear, the true voice of a master of ceremonies would wield. It sang with such intonation the crowd found it difficult to swill a gulp of ale for fear of missing something grand.
“My name is Anthyl, and I am a traveler. I have seen a great many things, some set into lore by magnificent bards, some left to be forgotten by the bandit called Time.” His arms arced slowly as he spoke, making visual impressions with his hands. The shapes of his stories looked to come alive at the movement of his fingers.
“I have seen battles.” He snapped his fingers, and a brilliant white line erupted from them. The crowd cheered.
“I have dined with kings.” Another light, red in color and softer than the first.
“I have crossed great oceans, seen valleys of gold, felt the arctic winds on my face.” Each phrase was followed by a flash of light and swooping gestures.
The audience shouted and applauded, but Anthyl silenced them with a raised hand and smile. “Hear now, hear now. This is a night not about me, but about entertainment. As you know you have been brought her for the game of eternity. I hope you all have had a full evening of jest of merry, for now the game begins.” Anthyl bowed low, and the crowd cheered once again.
“What is you game, Master Anthyl? Don’t leave us in such suspense,” Tannin yelled from behind the bar, inspiring more cheers.
Anthyl arced an eyebrow and gazed around the common room. “An impatient group indeed. But before I show you what is ahead, let me show you the prize. For what is a game without reward, my friends, is called work.” Laughter swept through the room, while Anthyl reached into his pocket and pulled out a perfectly round copper coin. He held it up. “This is your prize.”
To this the travelers playfully hissed and booed; even in a community this small, a single copper coin was barely a prize worthy for a children’s game. Anthyl raised his hands in mock innocence. “So you are that kind of crowd then, eh?”
A man dressed in a sweaty, leather jerking banged his mug on the table. Shouting both to rise above the crowd and driven by his inebriation, he yelled, “Come now Master Traveler. I would as soon hoist a kettle of fish for my supper than play your game for a coin.”
As Anthyl turned to the man, his black eyes flashed like those of a cat gazing into a lit room if his piecing black eyes absorbed some of the light from the room. His voice remained as sweet as a songbird, but a dark expression was forming on his face. “Tell me, good farmer, what would be you name?”
“I would be Arthur, if I were a king, but instead they call me Darvel.” The local’s drunken manner drew laughter, and he was too caught up in the festivities to notice how Anthyl loomed over him.
“You then, Darvel, sound like a sporting man.” Anthyl’s voice had grown quiet and sharp, and this time the crowd sensed the change. Suddenly the laughter stilled, and once again the crowd balanced on the edge of anxiety. Anthyl pushed back his dark gray cloak. His sleeves were wide and juxtaposed to his frail, pale arms. “You are also wise to recognize a reward reflects the challenge, so if one coin isn’t enough for you, what about this.”
Anthyl flung his wide sleeves in the air, and a shower of gold, silver and copper coins rained down on the crowd. Modesty and pride left the room quickly as travelers scoured the floor frantically to snag a few coins. Anthyl let the disorder continue for a while before turning back to Darvel. “Does this sound sporting enough now? There’s this, and much more. Are you interested?”
“You’re damn right, I’m interested,” Darvel exclaimed, rising to his feet and grinning. “What’s this game of yours?”
Anthyl turned to the crowd with a flourish and sprang onto the makeshift stage made for the minstrel. “Here now is the game.”
“Yes, tell us Anthyl!”
“The game is this: To find your reward, you musts undertake a journey. Not just any journey, not like the one you made to this tavern tonight. No, this journey you will tax all your skills, your courage, your strength, your wisdom, your patience.” His last word was turned up in intonation, as with the sounds of giving a riddle. An image flashed before Anthyl as he gestured with his spindly arms—a desolated plain void of life or signs of civilization, save for a stout fortress that reached toward a sky filled with threatening storm clouds. “To end the journey and win the game, you merely need to find me in my keep.”
“That's it?”
“That's it.” Anthyl bowed slightly, a warm smile appearing on his lips.
Finally Darvel could tack this temptation no longer. “Master Anthyl, show us where to start looking.”
“Come along with me then,” Anthyl swung his arm and jumped down from the crate. Throughout the common room, travelers were deciding whether to go. A couple of men were being shoved by their wives to follow Anthyl, other pleaded intently to go. The Fireside Tavern was in a gleeful uproar as a line slowly started forming behind the tall stranger.
Anthyl walked up to Tannin and set a stack of gold coins on the bar. "Very well, then. If it suits you, landlord, I will start the game from your establishment. This should compensate you for any lost business."
“Good Sir, you can do whatever you wish in my tavern,” Tannin said, sweeping the coins into his hand and from there into the pocket of his apron.
“And so I shall,” Anthyl answered lightly. He walked to the wall beside the bar and placed a hand on the wooden boards.
“Your journey has not lead us far, Anthyl,” yelled a participant from within the line. The cheers from the crowd turned to laughter, but quickly faded into gasps as a sharp blue light split the wood in front of Anthyl and slowly spread to take the form of a doorway. Anthyl raised an outstretched finger, and letters started to appear above the magic portal, burned into the wall as if by an unseen force: The Rules to the Game are Simple: Find Anthyl.
Jocularity fled the common room.
Anthyl turned to the crowd with a reassuring look. “No good reward is earned without effort. Now begins your journey of courage. Remember your focus. Courage. Strength. Wisdom. Patience. If you hesitate now, you have already lost the game.”
A young man standing beside Darvel wrung his hands nervously. “You must pardon us, Master Anthyl, and understand that suddenly there are powers in this game for which we were not prepared.”
“What in life can you prepare for?” Anthyl asked. “ You plan to harvest you crops in the fall, but what if the summer heat is to scorching? What if your cows do not yield milk? Isn’t life a daily challenge? You are not facing any greater uncertainty than you do on any other day of your life with my game, but I am offering you rewards greater than you will ever see on this coast. Young man, what would you do with one hundred thousand gold coins?”
All the group inhaled sharply at once.
“One hundred thousand!” the young man squealed. “You are mad, Sir. No one owns one hundred thousand gold coins.”
Anthyl smiled slowly, sensing the excitement build once again. “And I haven’t even told you the good news. You don’t even have to succeed to get all that money. They will be plenty of gain along the way.”
The crowd surged with renewed energy. “What do we need for the journey, Anthyl?”
“Only you wits and stout hearts. Come on, lads. Follow me.” And like a triumphant king leading his men to battle, Anthyl stepped into the blue light. A humming sound filled the room. Then he was gone.
Twenty-one men joined him that night. Each one stepped courageously through the blue doorway to cheers and goodbye kisses. As the last man stepped through the door, Tannin provided a round on the house. The travelers enjoyed the drink, talking about the evening and anxiously awaiting the return of the men.
The round of drinks was the last for some as the hour began to fade. Some parted with cheer, but regretfully had to return home for early duties in the morning. Many still waited, and as the hours passed on farther, less and less people joked of Anthyl the Traveler. Many of the wives of the departed started to worry, and even ask some of the remaining to step through the door to inquire the whereabouts of their husbands.
Morning came with still not even a noise from the door. Many had left for home, but still some waited, and waited farther into that day. Tannin, remained quiet and gave meals to those in waiting. The day turned to night, until the sun passed over again. Three days turned into a week. One week turned into a month. The wives had moved on, returning to their homes as presumed widows.
On a quiet, lonely evening, without warning, Anthyl step from the blue doorway. The story of Anthyl the Traveler had traveled far and quickly along the coast, so everyone knew the man as he stepped through, most of all Tannin, who glared at him with frightful defiance. Though Tannin did well with the money he had received—and had done even better with the stream of visitors that had come to gaze upon the strange magical door in his common room, he still felt some resentment toward the mysterious traveler.
“What now, Anthyl?” Tannin asked. “Where’s the winner of your game? And the other men?”
“Those who have not already lost are still playing,” the hooded man replied, his dark eyes glittering. “But, as of yet, there is no winner. Spread the word, if you would. The game is still open; the prize is still to be had. Every month, this door will open and those wishing to play the game need only step through. One hundred thousand gold coins await the man who finds me in my keep.”
“I don’t think I shall send any more customers to their doom,” Tannin said.
Anthyl placed another stack of gold coins on the bar counter. “Here is additional compensation, landlord. Do with it as you will. Use it to document the truth of how this magical door came to be, or expand your establishment to accommodate the increased trade you will gain by promoting my simple game.”
Tannin started at the stack of coins. It was at least three times larger than the one Anthyl had left a month ago.
“You can even use it to pay to have my door closed, if you wish. I’m sure you will find a sorcerer somewhere who will be able to accomplish the task.” The traveler swept the room with a gaze and a sardonic smile. “But I see at least three more who are ready to join in the fun. Is that not so, lads?”
Three dark-haired young men in blackened chainmail shirts and red cloaks—noblemen all, from the baronies to the north—with swords strapped to their sides and backpacks filled with supplies at their feet, had risen from their chairs in the back of the room.
“Aye,” said one. “But your doorway wouldn’t admit us. Now we understand why.”
“My lieges,” Tannin muttered, not taking his eyes from the gold coins. “I must ask that you don’t do this. Your noble parents—“
“Won’t trouble you if we’re lost to this mystical game,” interrupted another, hoisting his pack onto his shoulder. “I am a fifth son, and my comrades are equally unlikely to inherit or are just as big an inconvenience to our Houses.”
“As you wish,” Tannin said. He placed his hand over the coins, still not looking at Anthyl or the three new players for his game.
“For your service, troubles, and good advice,” the third youngster said, tossing some silver and copper coins on the bar. “Do wish us luck.”
“Indeed!” Anthyl said with cheer and an inviting gesture. The doorway flashed and hummed as the three nobles disappeared through it. “Good luck to all who chose to play the game.”
Tannin kept his eyes locked on the back of his hand that still hid Anthyl’s coins. Then, the traveler’s voice was suddenly, shockingly, close. Anthyl’s breath felt strangely cold on Tannin’s skin as he whispered: “Spread the word, Tannin. My game is now the heart of your business, even if you dedicate yourself to shutting it down.”
By the time Tannin had gathered his wits to reply, Anthyl was returning through the blue doorway with a grand sweep of his cloak.
That was twenty-three years ago. The game is still open.