Forest & Kingdom Balance

by Robert Reed Paul Thomas

  “After all my years of service, I ignore one little order and you get angry.” Tre shrugged. “You know, there is just no pleasing some people.”

  “Tre.” John said.

  “Yes John?” Tre replied.

  “Don’t tease the High Councilor.”

  “Yes John.” Tre bowed his head to his friend and captain with respect. “I knew I should have brought dice.” He thought and leaned back for a long wait.

  VI

  The Red Knight sat and all the people vanished. “What!” He rose and left the pavilion, sword in hand.

  “Hello.” A woman’s voice came from behind him. He spun and raised his sword. “We won’t need that.” She waved her hand and the sword disappeared, then walked over and took his arm. “I’m Princess Dionara, the people in the mountains are my subjects, thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”

  The Red Knight looked at the young woman. “I’m still seated at the table.” He concluded.

  “Yes, you are still seated at the table. I know you have many questions, I’ll do my best to answer them for you.”

  “You’ve answered one question already, Joshua said that it was a woman’s voice that spoke to him. I knew at the way station that this mystery had at least one level yet to uncover.” He studied her. “Is the immortal responsible for this?” He motioned to the surroundings.

  “He is the canvas, I am the artist.” She waved her hand and the clearing was replaced by Angel Falls on the day of her family’s picnic. “Your agents’ fate is a question that has troubled you for quite a while. As you suspected, they were killed by the Caretaker.” They walked as people moved by them. “This is a memory of the day they died, my memory. Those are my parents,” she pointed out the royal couple, “King Stefan and Queen Diana.”

  “And these are your agents.” Dionara froze the scene and walked the Knight to the brush behind the royals. The two agents were crouched, ready to strike. “They had done exactly as you instructed, they approached their task with maximum stealth. The Caretaker had seen them earlier in the day and thought they were local farmers.” They walked back to the glade and the scene changed. The landscape stayed but the people were replaced by the agents’ carnage.

  She led him to the young girl standing in terror as the agent approached. “That’s me.” She said and stepped him back a few paces. “This is where your agents die.” The Knight watched as a falcon cut down one agent, transformed into the Caretaker, and knocked out the second agent. The Caretaker returned to the little girl and scene changed. They were back at the pavilion.

  The Red Knight smiled. “So, you want revenge for your parents’ death.”

  “No, silly!” She punched him lightly on the arm. “You didn’t send your agents to kill my parents, you just wanted to get those lazy, superstitious, coastal people moving. You didn’t even know my parents existed. All you wanted was a map. Your agents’ decision to kill my parents had more to do with the world we live in than the orders they were given. Here, let me show you.”

  The clearing was transformed into the First Tier garden at the coastal palace. “Isn’t this beautiful!” The sky was a deep rich blue with billowed clouds of all shapes, the walkway and retaining wall shone in brilliant white stone, while all around them thousands of flowers in a myriad shades of red bloomed. Dionara breathed deeply, “What a magnificent fragrance, don’t you think?”

  The Knight just looked at her. “Yes, I’ve seen this.” He said in an impatient tone.

  “You don’t get invited to many gatherings, do you? With that attitude I can see why.” She rolled her eyes and walked him among the flowers. “You’ve seen it yes, but do you know why it’s here? These gardens were built to honor Paladin, the first person in history to successfully navigate the sea. He believed that the human experience was one of exploration and growth. These seven levels represent the steps of human development. They are the path to a greater life.

  She faced him. “The reason your agents killed my parents was because that is the only way of life they knew. Humanity is stuck. We stagnate at the lowest levels. Theses tiers can show us who we are now, and also let us glimpse the potential we’re capable of.

  She resumed their walk through the garden. “This level is the lowest, red represents our instinctive needs for self, our hunger, thirst, and all our basest needs; me, I want, give me, I take.”

  She waved and the scene changed around them. “Second Tier, orange, lust! You like lust. I like lust. Everyone likes lust.” She flashed him a big smile and raised her eyebrows. “But what is lust? It’s a shared desire. Still instinctive, still primal, but it connects two people. The first small step we take to look outside ourself.”

  “Third Tier, community.” Suddenly they were surrounded by sea of yellow flowers. “Yes, we still have base needs. Yes, we’ve shared lust. Then we desire community. The company of others, shared sacrifice, shared labors, and shared celebration. We find that we are stronger together than apart as people combine their effort for mutual benefit, but the base motivation is still self. We give to the community for the return it provides us.”

  “Fourth Tier, love.” She looked at him. “This one’s going to be difficult for you, so stick with me.” Vibrant greens from the deepest velvets to the most delicate pastels spread out before them. “What is love? Love is an awakening, a discovery. We break the chains of selfish isolation and look outward.”

  “Love is when our most profound joy comes from someone else’s happiness. It is the step where we go from adding our efforts to others just to achieve more than we could on our own, to understanding that we receive far more by simply giving rather than taking.” She looked at him and sighed. “All right, I didn’t have much hope for you on this tier anyway.” She waved her hand.

  “Fifth Tier, communication.” A wonderful light sky blue filled their vision. “Once we feel the freedom of giving, we want to do more. We want to speak, teach, and do everything that we can to share our ideas and knowledge. As the individual grows, so does the world. The more we share, the more there is to share.

  “Sixth Tier, inner sight.” The richness of indigos and dark intense blues engulfed them. “When we look at others, do we see ourself? Who am I, why am I here? Once we discover all the wonders outside ourself, we ask, ‘Is that all there is?’ The answer is no. Our greatest discoveries occur when we understand ourselves. To do that we must look inward.” Together they left the gardens of inner sight and ascended the last flight of steps. Paladin’s magnificent palace rose before them in all its splendor and brilliance.

  “That is the palace of understanding, the final level. Creativity, innovation, discovery, it’s all in there. All you have to do is walk the gardens.”

  The Red Knight patted her hand. “Thank you Dionara, your tour has been wonderful. I’ve learned a great deal. Please have your people come to the coast. Some will be integrated into the Mindow slave population; most will be transported for labor north, south, or back over the sea. I’m afraid that if you don’t, every Mindow on the coast will be killed, and there will be no mercy when I return for your subjects. Please tell the Caretaker that you agree so he can be on his way.”

  The Red Knight closed his eyes, then opened them to find Lord Aranido seated across from him. He turned to the Caretaker. “What is her decision?” He asked.

  “Sorry, you’re here for the duration.” The voice that came from the Caretaker was Dionara’s.

  He found himself with Dionara’s arm once more in his, just the two of them alone in the clearing. “That was kind of a dirty trick, but fun!” She smiled. “Okay sour face, lighten up, you’ll like the next part.”

  VII

  “Feel better?” Dionara asked. They stood on the deck of his flagship as the assault on Kingsport raged before them. “See, battle!” She walked over to the memory Knight and looked at him. “You remember this. You had all the forces of north and south, together with your grand fleet and they still batted you away like flies. What did it t
ake, three all out assaults on the harbor to get a foothold?”

  “The outcome was never in doubt.” The Knight walked around the deck as he examined his memory.

  “Of course it wasn’t, that’s not the point.” She pulled him over. “Listen to yourself.”

  “Incredible.” The Knight could hear his own thoughts as he watched the battle. “Brilliant! Who are these people?”

  Dionara looked out at the harbor. “Those people are the ones you decided to punish because they wouldn’t conquer their neighbors. The people who valued peace and used their lives to learn, and learn they did. They walked the garden. Did you ever take the time to examine the art and architecture of the Mindow? If you had, you would have seen innovation, craftsmanship, and an atheistic unknown on your continent. They were great artists of life and one of the things they studied was defense. If you had met them with anything other than overwhelming force, they would have kicked your butt.”

  “Your point is conceded and irrelevant.” He said absently, then brushed a little dirt from his memory self’s jacket and examined his own face.

  “What about their flame?” Dionara leaned on the rail and faced him. “You love a good flame, like Kalibra’s. You are drawn to her because her flame is so powerful. What do you see in the Mindow?”

  “A person’s flame is an individual trait. The group from which the person derives is of no importance. Kalibra is simply a unique individual that I find useful.” The Knight smiled.

  “Yes, well, there is one aspect of Kalibra’s ‘usefulness’ we will not be visiting today.” Dionara held up a hand. “Most people consider me rather a free spirit in that area, but her, oh my!” She walked around, took his arm and moved close. “About your ‘individual trait’ comment.”

  The scene shifted to the battle of the Garden Tiers, the final battle for the Mindow. Every foot the invaders advanced was paid for with blood. The beautiful gardens were trampled and the pristine white stone drenched in blood. A massive number of the Knight’s forces filled the complete circle. Their advance stymied by the people of Kingsport, any Mindow that could stand had picked up a fallen blade and joined in the defense. She walked him to his memory self, “You seem to have forgotten this.”

  They listened to his thoughts. “Who are these people, don’t they know when they’re beaten? Their warriors are dead, yet the gardeners and servants battle on.” The memory Knight glanced to his right and saw two of his men cut down. “That’s a cook! I can’t tell the flame of a warrior from that of a chambermaid!”

  “We’ll let that one sink in.” They moved away as the scene changed around them. “Let’s take this a little closer to home.” They met the memory Knight as he looked out over a Far Lands plain where he and Emperor Kale were about to do battle. “You have been an influence on humanity for over five thousand years, and what has that influence brought them?”

  The Knight took a stance next to himself and looked out over his men on the battlefield. “You seem to have confused me with human nature.” He waved his hand and a column of his men disappeared, then another was split into two groups and moved to the flanks.

  “Human nature evolves, these people have not.” Dionara waved and a column was repositioned to the south. “His reserves will decimate your right flank if you don’t shore up the south.”

  “His reserves will not exist. Once the battle is joined, the column I removed will hit them from behind.” The men Dionara moved returned to their position. “Human nature evolves at its own pace.”

  “Human nature evolves in response to stimulus.” Dionara waved and the battle began. Their view shifted to Kale’s reserves. Half the reserves turned and battled the attack from behind, while the remainder attacked the Knight’s right flank. Kale’s wedge shaped frontal assault penetrated the main body of the Knight’s force, then turned to the flanks. The right side of the wedge and the reserves quickly defeated the right flank and joined the main fight.

  Dionara had the Knight take a few steps back. Just as she did, the command position was overrun by six of Kale’s men who surrounded the memory Knight. Even the Knight’s skill and speed could not hold off six battle hardened warriors. Each time he reappeared the six attacked again.

  “That certainly did not happen.” The Knight commented.

  “Call it an active imagination, I must have had a lot of varied stimulus in my youth. As for this stimulus, it gets to be monotonous.” With that they stood next to a farmhouse that was set ablaze where a woman cradled the body of a dead man. She rocked him as her house burned. “You’re not in this one, you’ve already passed. This is her memory.” Dionara knelt and caressed the woman’s back.

  Suddenly the Knight was filled with grief and pain. He could feel his own hands grasp the dead body trying to will it back to life. The hopeless despair of loss overpowered all thought as the unendurable pain wracked him. His grief physically tore at him like a knife slowly slicing him open. He tried to scream but could not. Dionara allowed the emotion to fade. The intensity slowly diminished while the weight of sorrow lingered.

  “This is that little out of the way kingdom where you met Yamikura.” Dionara told him. “It had no purpose for you other than to be a staging area for the battle we just viewed. The battle you lost.”

  Dionara stepped away and the scene changed. The half burned out farmhouse showed signs of minor repair and the woman who had been before them now plowed a field in the distance. It was a task she was obviously ill equipped for. Her struggle to hold onto the tiller as a horse pulled it forward was evident. She stopped the horse and walked to a well next to them. “This is happening today. It’s what, four years later?” Dionara asked. “Let me show you how she feels now.”

  Crippling loss consumed him again. The pain of sorrow and loneliness mixed with a myriad of physical injuries, some old, some new. Her despair was visceral. It hung in the pit of his stomach like lead as pain shot from his back and flared from his hands, arms and feet. He was unable to move.

  “She is stronger than you.” The woman returned to the field. “She endures that every day, and yet, every day she goes on. She has to. If she doesn’t grow her quota of potatoes, then the lord of the land will kick her out and give the farm to someone else. Do you know how she is able to get up in the morning? It’s because for her, the morning is a release from the solitude of night. No matter how hard the day is; it is still better than the torture of loneliness in the dark. Could you live every day of your five thousand years in unrelenting pain, in the pain you inflicted on her?”

  “Enough!” The Knight’s flame intensified. “I’ve had enough of your morality play. I have experienced more of life’s inequities than you are capable of understanding.” He summoned all his will and focused his thoughts to a pinpoint. He imagined it as hard as steel and razor sharp. The projectile flew toward Dionara. Her face became serene as her flame burst forth. The Knight’s projectile met a pillar of pure light. Dionara’s essence radiated love, acceptance, and understanding. His attack passed through her and vanished.

  True to the Caretaker’s warning, the Knight was intelligent and adaptive. He assessed this new battlefield and wielded the weapons that would serve him best. His will became an intense crimson bonfire that consumed him. His flame grew to ten times the size of Dionara’s, red viscous tongues of fire lashed at her with raw power. Waves of contempt and superiority rolled over her. He moved toward her and his fire engulfed her with a single will, submit.

  The Red Knight drew on five thousand years of betrayal and loss to feed his flame and then poured it in to her. His unrelenting pain of life, of long lost friends, and the hatred of his enemies spewed from him. He called forth the loneliness of century after century and his unendurable anguish fueled by the inevitable loss he had to endure every time he fell in love as he watched his lovers slowly wither and die before his eyes. He reached deep within himself to places he had long since sealed away and found there a despair that no mortal could withstand and thrust it upo
n his enemy in a raging torrent.

  He abandoned all self-control and discarded any thought of subtlety to unleash his most powerful weapon. A new wave of sick, putrid pain rolled forth at Dionara. The Knight dipped his sword in the black fetid wounds left by the treachery of friends and thrust it into her. The wretchedness spawned from trust’s betrayal oozed in a thick, dark river to smother and extinguish her light. The scene had long since disappeared, in the emptiness his flame grew. He pounded and pounded the flicker of white light until there was nothing left but an engorged red flame in the void.

  Diminished, spent without thought or emotion, he floated in the timeless void. He awoke to find himself lying in a field. It was fall, the leaves had turned and the air had a crispness to it. “Enock!” He heard from a distance. The boy stood and shook his head. “What a dream!” He thought. “I am the Red Knight! Fall before me!” He swung an imaginary war ax, and then ran to finish his chores.

  He entered the barn to see his father stacking hay for the winter. “There you are, give me a hand.” His father said. “Your birthday was yesterday. I’m sorry but the celebration is over. You’re sixteen, that means you’re a man now with a man’s responsibilities.” His father smiled and tousled his hair.

  It was dusk when he and his father arrived back the house. He ran up to the pot on the hearth and inhaled deeply. “Hey, be careful!” Marki, his oldest sister, pulled his head back by the hair. “That steam will burn your nose as sure as frost will burn a crop.” She put her hands on her hips, “I’m getting married before next moon so I’m not going to be around to save you anymore little brother. You best grow some smarts.” She knocked on his head with her knuckles.

  The door opened, his mother and Beth came in with fresh buckets of water for the night. “Momma,” Enock grabbed one of the buckets, “is there any sweet cake left from yesterday?”