Forest & Kingdom Balance

by Robert Reed Paul Thomas

  A circle, within a circle, within a circle.

  The Palace Banquet Hall was more theater than dining hall. Three raised tiers circled the large performance area broken only by the east and west grand entrances. The first raised tier held the power brokers, the elite of the court, they sat facing center with an unobstructed view of the night’s entertainment. Set back and slightly raised, the second tier held only the king’s dais centered between the entrances, and the columns that supported the dome high overhead. From the base of the dome, the hall’s lighting could be manipulated to either fill the room during meals or focused on the center to accent the performance.

  The third tier of tables bordered the walls beyond the columns and held the majority of guests who were comprised of minor courtiers, bureaucrats and the lesser nobility. Contrary to the original Mindowan design, this court chose to seat guests on both sides of the third tier tables and extended the tables to the areas behind the columns. When it came to those of lesser influence, seating quantity was valued above quality.

  In the king’s seat at the center of the dais sat the Red Knight. On his right, Kalibra was in deep discussion with the High Councilor while to his left the king sought to regale the Knight with his many and wondrous accomplishments. The Red Knight’s eleven Crimson Guard and their captain, Yamikura, a mysterious and deadly warrior from the Far Lands, were the only others seated at the dais.

  “Does this man ever shut up?” The Red Knight’s thoughts sought refuge in the past as he tuned out the king’s unending monologue. “What has it been? A few centuries at most?” Fond memories of his last voyage to this shore began to surface, foremost were the endless games of Risk & Reward that he had played with Sergei during the long months at sea. He recalled the day that his friend, advisor, and captain of the Crimson Guard was able to beat him three games straight.

  A brief smile emerged with the memory of the mock trial he had ordered for such an egregious offense, and the celebration in Sergei’s honor that was his sentence. “What a mind you had!” The Knight reminisced as he studied this blathering king, Sergei’s direct descendant. “I’m afraid dear Sergei,” he commented silently to his long dead friend, “that your bloodline has not fared well.”

  The king, mislead and emboldened by the Knight’s brief smile, went into greater detail of his exemplary skills and how his kingdom had prospered through his efforts.

  “Your Highness,” the Knight gave Sergei’s descendant the courtesy of a title even though no king sat upon a throne in the Knight’s presence.

  “Yes Sire?” The king stopped awkwardly in mid sentence, unaccustomed to being interrupted.

  “What a wonderful wine.” The Knight held up his glass and swirled its contents. “Please have my quarters at the Northern Ambassador’s Residence stocked with this vintage.”

  “Servant!” The king snapped immediately.

  “No,” the Knight waved off servants who approached from three different directions, “you misunderstand me Your Highness, I would like you to attend to it personally.” The Knight’s expression made it clear that this was not a request.

  “I, Sire?” The king’s disbelief spoke volumes.

  “Now.” The Knight said simply.

  The king departed followed hastily by a flurry of somewhat confused minor courtiers. The Knight’s interest then turned to Kalibra who was sparring with the court’s High Councilor, Deminar. He heard the subject of trade mentioned, “Perhaps this night won’t be a complete loss.” The passing thought lifted his spirits a bit.

  Noting that the Knight’s attention had turned to her conversation, Kalibra’s questions moved to a more pertinent subject. “Yes High Councilor, trade along the coast seems well in hand. What is the status of opening new areas inland, has a route through the mountains to the central plains been established?”

  Deminar’s expression took on an inquisitive air, “Central plains my Lady? It was my impression that nothing lies beyond the mountains but desert and desolation.” He then added in a conciliatory tone, “We have of course dutifully obeyed the Red Knight’s directives with regard to establishment of a cross mountain route. Alas, none of our expeditions have met with any success.”

  The ease and casual tone with which the High Councilor deflected Kalibra’s inquiry confirmed the Knight’s suspicions, “Ah, here is where the power lay!” The Knight’s thoughts drifted back to his old friend Sergei. “You always did like to leave a few bastards in your wake, you ruddy old goat. Apparently even as a king.” The Knight studied the councilor’s features for any telltale sign of his old friend’s lineage.

  The High Councilor’s relaxed, friendly demeanor never wavered under the Knight’s obvious scrutiny. He deftly tabled the subject without missing a beat. “I’m sure that you have many questions on the subject, I will summon the survivors of our most recent expedition for you to speak with my Lady. Would tomorrow midday be convenient?” Before Kalibra could comment, Deminar added casually, ”Although I must inform my Lady that there were very few survivors.”

  “And there will be far fewer tomorrow than there are tonight.” Deminar made a mental note, adding another task to his post banquet itinerary.

  Just as Kalibra was about to deliver her thrust to the High Councilor’s parry, the dining music faded to silence, the perimeter lighting dimmed, and the central entertainment area brightened to a pool of light. From the shadowed western entrance, twenty black robed and hooded figures emerged to the sound of a distant drumbeat. They stopped and stood in staggered lines as they entered the performance circle.

  The room stilled in anticipation. Music began softly, a haunting melody of strings spoke in the language of poignant despair, slowly gaining strength and emotion. Suddenly woodwinds blared an entreaty of panic and flight.

  In the background, the drumbeat became a little louder, a little closer. “An intriguing start, High Councilor.” The Red Knight commented to his right, “This trip may provide some surprises yet.” Just as the Knight’s words fell, all but the drumbeat went silent.

  Through the east entrance, a flood of female performers entered the stage, their frantic dance of chaos teemed with terror as woodwinds and strings blared once more. Each dancer’s unique interpretation portrayed the ultimate fear and panic that emerges when everything you love is threatened. The intense emotion of the music seemed to urge the dancers to greater speed as their individual movements interwove into a single portrayal of roiling desperation.

  From the center of the maelstrom, Atheria rose. One by one her sisters joined her in a dance of quiet resolve. Purpose replaced panic in a wave that spiraled outward. The music slowly gained structure and rhythm as Atheria led her sisters into a synchronous flow that elegantly captured the determination and true depth of feminine strength.

  The music faded once more to be replaced by the sound of male voices humming in military precision. Twenty-one male performers entered from the east in military lock step, an unmistakable sound to a world ruled by war and conflict. The woman’s dance shifted as they spread themselves across the center of the circle to face the advancing men. The twenty from the east came to a halt, only Simon continued on as Atheria moved forward to meet him. The twenty’s humming grew in strength and evolved into a song of patriotic fervor. They sang of home, victory and the Mindow spirit.

  Only one of the evening’s guests had heard this song before, the Red Knight’s memories flooded back. That song, the same song that rang in his ears as his men had landed on this shore centuries ago, rank after rank slaughtered by the superior defenses and excellent strategy. It took shear numbers to battle down the proud defenders, and at that, far more than he would have ever thought.

  The Knight recalled the grudging admiration he had felt that day for such well trained and led fighting men who’s flame burned so bright. From his first foothold on shore to the final battle at the Garden Tiers, he had faced that song and the men who sang it.

  “In the absence of the king!” The High Counse
lor began to shout as he rose from his seat in furious anger.

  “You will sit down and be quiet.” The Red Knight commanded in an even tone, only slightly raised.

  Neither performer, nor musician missed a beat. Like their ancestors before them, they had cast their lot and would not waver. Simon and Atheria met midway between the twenty and the women who were determined to stop them from throwing away their lives. To the west of the stage, the black robed figures stood to the ever-present sound of the drumbeat.

  The music rose in intensity as Atheria approached Simon who stood proud and erect, his gaze to the distant west. Atheria’s elegant, graceful movements mirrored her beautiful voice as she sang of the love they had for their Mindowan men, their husbands and sons.

  Her song of love turned to a desperate appeal for them to sail away and forgo this hopeless battle. At the end of each stanza the feminine voices of every sister dancer would join in the powerful chorus, pleading for them to flee for safety. Their pleas were answered by the twenty in strong masculine voice calling for victory and honor, punctuated by the sound of a step forward in perfect unison.

  A renewed plea followed each chorus, each chorus brought Simon’s twenty one step closer to the determined women. Between the two groups, Simon and Atheria battled as only lovers can, in an intricate performance of love versus honor, survival versus duty. The powerful heart beat of music spoke to the deepest emotions portrayed in Atheria and Simon’s performance. She sang in a rage of demand that to fight was foolish, her movements defiant and sure. Simon’s answer swept her aside in anger at the thought of dismissing his honor. The music softened as Atheria returned once more, her humble petition for home and family expressed in caring movement. He held her close as he sang of the duty that his family and his love for her demanded.

  With the twenty nearing the feminine barrier and Simon’s determination resolute, Atheria turned from pleading to seduction. In a dance to melt men’s souls, her voice and movements held the promise of joyous heights and erotic ecstasy, if only he would flee. The feminine barrier dissolved as her sisters intertwined with the twenty, their sensual dance reflected Atheria’s plea for a life not wasted.

  At the crescendo of pounding rhythm, sensual voice, and erotic dance, Simon’s strong, determined voice ordered, “Forward!” The music ended in a single beat. Atheria and her sisters flowed through the twenty as they marched forward, each caressing their men in a final farewell.

  The drumbeat flared as the black robed figures advanced to meet the twenty. The black figures dropped their robes to reveal tunics emblazoned with a red flame. Simon was the first to fall as the red flames passed, followed by each of the twenty. When the last had fallen, the drumbeat faded and a haunting melody of despair once again filled the hall. The red flames encircled Atheria and her sisters who’s heads were bowed as they wept. Together they exited the hall to the east. The music faded to silence, the lights dimmed.

  In a hall frozen in time, seconds become hours.

  “Wine, music, dance.” The Red Knight spoke casually, clapping his hands twice to break the tense silence. The world seemed to pause for a moment, then the lighting brightened and the dinner music returned. The Red Knight glanced to his captain at the end of the dais. Immediately Yamikura rose and came to the Knight’s side. He leaned forward to receive whispered instructions, then followed Simon and the twenty as they exited the hall.

  Simon entered the staging room to see his fears made manifest in a single horrific glance. His brother and sister dancers had been herded into a corner by slave guards with swords drawn. The sight of Atheria being stripped and tied to a column with the slave master testing his whip released a rage in Simon that had been building through years of degradation and atrocity.

  At that moment the power of his true flame surged forward to calm his desire to attack in a bloodthirsty rage of revenge. “Think if you want to save her!” Simon stopped, his face unreadable as the captain of the Crimson Guard brushed past him toward the slave master.

  “Now!” Whispered a brother from behind him.

  Simon hand signaled, quiet, halt. “There are only ten guards,” Simon sized up his strategic position, “they could have been dispatched easily enough by his chosen brothers with hidden daggers. The Crimson Captain’s presence was another matter.”

  Simon acted instantly. Signaling the twenty to move toward the guards and their trapped brothers and sisters, he slowly moved to position himself behind the Crimson captain. The best he could hope for was to injure the captain before the seasoned warrior dispatched him. His brothers were well trained, if there were any chance at all, they would free the rest in the confusion. Simon’s assessment for success however gave him little hope.

  The Crimson captain approached the slave master, “The Red Knight rules here and he has not commanded punishment, stand down slaver.”

  Simon stopped and immediately signaled ‘freeze’ to his brothers.

  “These are the king’s slaves and I am their master.” The rolls of fat that hung from the master’s chin quivered with anger and indignation. “You have no right to interfere!” He spat his words at the captain in a fury of vitriol.

  Joy, fear and hope all swirled within Simon as he witnessed the captain’s lightning speed. Faster than the eye could follow, the captain moved behind the slave master and pulled his head back by the hair as his sword pressed into the fat of the slaver’s chin. For a brief instant the captain’s attention fell on Simon, his expression was one of reprimand and warning. In that instant Simon felt as naked as Atheria and twice as vulnerable.

  “As I was saying,” the captain’s attention returned to the slaver, “the Red Knight rules here, not your pompous king.” He released the slaver who fell to his knees. “You are relieved of all duties and no longer have position in the palace. Leave now or die.” He rose and ran from the room as a trail of wet footprints from his bladder attested to the ex-master’s lesson in the true meaning of fear.

  A quick swipe of the captain’s blade and Atheria was free. “All of you, the Red Knight has commanded entertainment, I trust you will not keep him waiting.” A quick glance to the guards and the dancers were allowed to resume their duties.

  Tremors shook Atheria’s body as she rested on hands and knees at the base of the column, they subsided as she felt Simon’s strong, sure grip lift her to her feet. “I though we were all dead this night.” Her weakened voice gathered strength as she recovered.

  “Maybe.” Simon took Atheria’s hand and placed it on the hidden blade in the small of his back. “But we wouldn’t have been the only ones.”

  Atheria was last to re-enter the hall having taken a few moments to recover and clear her mind. The night still seemed as if in a dream. The musicians played, the dancers danced, and hours passed. Slowly the guests dispersed, some of her sisters and brothers were chosen and some were not. “Thank Spirit that none of the youngest were chosen tonight.” Atheria also made a mental note to thank Rosalyn for convincing that courtier that experience was far more enticing than a few extra years of youth.

  Since the king, the High Councilor, and the slave master were all absent, Atheria wondered about her duties. The thought of offering herself to the Red Knight was not a pleasant one, but she had faced death enough for one night. Not offering herself would bring a severe punishment.

  She danced among the few remaining guests toward the center area in front of the dais. The Red Knight stared into the distance lost in thought, her eyes met his and she stopped in mid step. The power of his gaze consumed her. Stark raw fear coursed through her, it felt as if her body had vanished to expose her very soul.

  It was just the briefest of glances before his thoughts turned inward once more, though to her it seemed like a lifetime. Thankful to be free, Atheria turned away only to be caught by the eye of the Red Knight’s companion. From one woman to another, the fierce Warrior Queen’s expression was unmistakable as both a warning and threat. Atheria left the hall knowing that her
duties were done.

  Later, in the twilight between late night and early dawn, two men remained in the empty hall. Yamikura approached the Red Knight who was still lost in his thoughts. “Sire, the hour is late.”

  The Knight seemed to return from a distant land, “Report.”

  “It was close Sire, but none were put to death.” Yamikura spoke respectfully in a humble expression of polite obedience. “Unfortunately the slave master objected and I had to relieve him of duty.”

  Yamikura’s report was met by the Knight’s wry smile.

  “Relieved him of duty, or of his life?” The Knight’s amusement became evident.

  “As with most of his kind Sire, he was a coward and a sadistic bully. True to form, he chose to relinquish his post rather than to pursue his objections to your orders. Unfortunately I could not in honor dispatch him once I had given him the choice, leave or die. I fear that my generous nature may have gotten the better of me. I apologize for my weakness Sire.” Yamikura bowed low in a gesture of atonement.

  “You let him live? Excellent! You’re getting better Yamikura.” The Knight’s voice took on a teacher’s tone, “I understand your disapproval of slavery my friend, and I do agree with you on the nature of slavers. However, in life there are the victors and the vanquished, and defeat will always have its price. For the brave it is a clean death on the battlefield, the price for the remainder is service.”

  The Knight then added a friendly caution. “You would be wise not to get too attached to these Mindow, they are an unknown that I had not anticipated. Their flame should have diminished and their numbers dwindled. Instead I feel a flame in them as bright as centuries past. Even in their children.” The Knights voice trailed off as he lapsed into inner dialogue.