Forest & Kingdom Balance

by Robert Reed Paul Thomas

  “There’s none in the house,” his mother gave him ‘that’ look, “but I’m pretty sure I know where to find it.” She patted his stomach.

  After dinner when his chores were done and everyone had moved their cots close to the hearth, he fell asleep with a sense of satisfaction. He had done his first day’s work as a man.

  In the darkness his father roused him. “Still a lot to do before we’re ready for winter.” They went out to the fields in the cold morning air. Their day was well started and the light nearly full when Enock heard the alarm sound. He was close behind his father as they ran into the barn. “You get your mother and your sisters,” he handed him pitch fork, “and hide in the root bin until I get back. Hear!”

  “Pa! I’m a man! Men need to come when the alarm sounds.” Enock stood proud despite his fear.

  His father stood there and studied at him. “Chances are you will need to fight today no matter where you are.” He picked up a splitter ax and handed it to him. “Don’t be foolish. Stay behind your uncles, your brothers, and me. Help where you can but watch yourself.”

  As he and his father ran toward the village his older brothers Lars and Jedd whose farms were close by joined them. By the time they arrived about half the village men were already setting a line. He could see most of the rest running to join them. The raider’s dust cloud was close. They’d top the rise at any time. Enock stood ready.

  The raiders bore down on the village. Enock thought that if he could knock the lead raider off his horse, it would slow and scatter the tightly packed riders. He lunged. Shame and fear briefly ran through him as he realized his mistake, he could feel the war ax cleave into his shoulder as he died. Suddenly his fear was replaced by shocked amazement, both at the fact that he knew that he had just died and that he was now somehow standing once more in the middle of the battle. His amazement was brief as he felt a searing hot pain lash the back of his neck, then once more found himself standing anew. This time however, he instantly ducked, rolled, and retrieved his fallen ax.

  Jedd, his oldest brother, was the first of the family to fall. His father was next. Enock raged with grief and anger as he fought, but his lack of skill brought few results. His miracle only saved him.

  Later, he and Lars stood back to back as the last few raiders circled. Lars was his second oldest brother, named after Pa, and the best fighter in the village. The battle was almost over as most of the raiders had already taken what they wanted and left. These raiders stayed for sport. One made a charge and a great spiked mace swung down at Enock’s head. The young naked defender timed his block perfectly, and then felt the blood soaked wooden handle of his ax slip as the mace struck. To his horror he watched the mace continue on to crush his brother’s head.

  Long after the battle while he knelt next to his father, he remembered. “Momma!” He cried, and ran for home with a fleeting hope that all had not been lost. His flicker of hope grew to a beacon as he arrived and saw that their farmhouse had not been set ablaze. A wave of pain and loss extinguished all hope as he opened the door and saw the bodies of his mother and sisters lying on the floor where they had been violated and murdered. Exhausted to the core of his being, he dropped to his knees and cried. It was late afternoon when he began to dig their graves, and full dark by the time he went back to the house.

  He brought water from the well, started a fire, and lit what lanterns they had. He moved the table and laid Momma, Marki and Beth in the middle of the floor. The bodies were lighter than he thought they should be. He wiped each of them down and straightened their clothes. Marki needed a dress, he didn’t know what happened to one she was wearing but it was nowhere in sight.

  He found the dress that Marki had made for the wedding and put it on her. It took him a couple of tries. He’d never dressed anyone but himself before. As he smoothed Marki’s dress, he felt her marriage bump. It had barely started to show. He didn’t want to put them in the ground like that, so he looked around. Cot covers would be the best he thought, and he wanted to do his best. After each sister was placed in her cover, he sewed the end. Last was his mother, he kissed her then sewed the cloth.

  He placed each of them in their grave and back filled the dirt, then harnessed the ox to the cart and set off for the village. As he made his way to Pa, the lamp that hung from cart shone on his sister-in-law Hannah, Lars’ wife. She knelt stone still next to the body of her husband. He called to her but she didn’t answer. He hadn’t thought of it when he left the farm, but he knew he needed to take care of his brothers too. When he started to pick up Lars, Hannah stood and helped.

  Enock then led the ox to where Jedd had fallen. Hannah just hung on to the back of the cart and walked along. He had to move her aside a little to get Jedd’s body onto the cart. Last, he went to Pa. It was difficult to lift him as the blood made him slippery, so he cradled Pa in his arms and lifted straight up with his legs being careful to keep his balance. Once Pa was on the cart he led the ox out of the village toward Hannah and Lars’ farm.

  Hannah still hadn’t spoken. He couldn’t blame her; he didn’t have much to say either. She went into the house as soon as they arrived and he went to the barn to find another lamp. He only needed to dig one grave, Lars was only married two seasons and they had lost the marriage baby.

  Once the grave was dug he went to the house for some cloth and a cover. He found Hannah sitting at the table with two plates of food. She hadn’t touched hers. He ate the other. When Lars was buried he went back into the house for Hannah. He found her staring straight ahead, her plate in front of her still untouched. He helped her to stand and they went outside. He stood and she knelt beside the grave. After awhile he took one of the lamps and walked the ox to Jedd’s farm.

  He searched and found his sister-in-law Penny on the ground by the barn. His nephew Bran was outside the empty root bin and the baby Sara was under her mother. The sun rose as he dug, he found it was easier to clean and dress them in the light. A carved wooden horse that he had made for Bran had caught his eye when he was in the house. As he sewed Bran’s cover he remembered the horse and retrieved it. He placed it in with his young nephew and then finished sewing. He didn’t dig a grave for Sara; he thought that she should be with her mother. When he was finished he led the ox home.

  He brought his father into the house, got fresh water and found clean clothes for him. He washed him and bound some of the worst cuts so they wouldn’t flap open. When he was almost through washing him, he cleaned off part of the floor next to Pa and put a blanket down. He made sure Pa’s back was clean before he moved him to the blanket. Enock washed up and dried his hands before he dressed him. He wanted to do his best, so he was careful with the cot cover and made sure to get each stitch in a line and straight, just like Momma taught him.

  Enock needed to drag Pa on the blanket to get him outside. He was starting to get a little dizzy. It wasn’t any trouble though; he had dug the grave the night before. Once Pa was right up to the grave he stopped to catch his breath and then hopped down. He pulled the blanket into his arms being careful that Pa didn’t touch dirt until he laid him down. Enock wanted to be sure of that because he wanted to do his best.

  He back filled the grave, taking time to neaten it, then knelt. “I did my best Pa.” He said. The sun went down as he sat there. He didn’t think much, just sat. Later in the night he saw a light off to the side but didn’t pay much attention. The light came closer and a woman sat beside him. He looked over, “I did my best.” He said

  “I know.” Dionara held him and let her love fill the emptiness as she rocked him. The centuries and millennia slowly return to Enock’s awareness, but his appearance never changed, nothing did, he just sat there in her arms.

  “Enock, you don’t need to rule the world to make it better.” She held him and opened herself to him completely, so that he could see the truth of her flame. “You can make the world better one person at a time, one day at a time. You have an incredible gift that can make a difference a thous
and different ways. Why not start over? The Caretaker can show how to look different after a change. You could roam the land and discover who you are, and who you would have become if this had not happened.”

  She stroked his hair. “There is more greed in this world than either of us can imagine. But it never was about the trappings of wealth for you, or even power for power’s sake. You wanted control. Perhaps with the control in your hands, you could make a difference. But control is an illusion, we don’t have control, we only have choice and our choices determine who we become.”

  “There is also evil in this world, you’ve met most of it, but it is not you. It has hardened you, made you forget. You started out with one goal, to make a world that would be safe for them, and one that they would be proud of. Let us help you to start over.”

  The Knight knew what she was doing, and why. It didn’t matter. He could feel her flame and knew the truth in it. It’s been a very long time since he thought of his family and just wanted to rest here a moment. Her idea had merit. It’s been thousands of years since he enjoyed the simple pleasures. “What have my choices been, and why had I made them?” He asked himself.

  His first choice had been revenge. In retrospect, never a good start. As he hunted the raiders, the death and destruction he found in their wake only fueled his grief and anger. Later, much later, he had a good idea. He would teach people to protect themselves. That had most likely been his mother’s influence.

  He remembered when the first kingdoms were established. He would be given ale and a cot at any castle, way station, or travel house. He’d visit a kingdom, make a few suggestions, kiss a few girls and move on. He looked at the graves. “It is true that we cannot change the past, but it is also true that we cannot return to it.”

  “Enock.” He thought. “I haven’t heard that name since my first millennium.” He smiled. “It seemed like every mother for generations named their son Enock. Then I became the Red Knight and a couple hundred years later you couldn’t find a single boy named Enock. Memory is fleeting.” He recognized the irony.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he had stopped to reflect and consciously choose a path, a millennium at least. What was his life? He could see how his days were filled with vigilance against treachery as he balanced his control on the edge of a razor. “Who was going to betray me? When would they attack? How would the betrayal come, and when? Who hadn’t followed his commands? Spies and strategy, always stay three steps ahead.

  “Why? Because the world must respect and obey the Red Knight!” He wondered what his mother would have said to that. She most certainly would have given him ‘that’ look. He knows what his father would have said. Of course, his father would have had to stop laughing before he could say it. He looked at the graves and thought about how many lives he was willing to throw away just to exert his control. “When did I become so indifferent to human life?” He searched his memory. “Jarod, he decided. After that, strategy was paramount. People became pieces on a game board.

  “When was the last time I knew love?” He couldn’t remember. “Kalibra?” He wondered. “She’s a great many things, however a true love is not among them. My greatest joy in life at the moment is a woman who needs to stick a knife in me to feel satisfied. Not good.

  “What do I want? What do I need?” The Knight considered and rejected idea after idea. “I need a new adventure!” Then it dawned on him. “I wonder what would happen if I . . .” The Knight cut off his thought and sat up. “I thank you Dionara but my choice is to take another path.” He told her as they stood, then he gave her a reflective smile and walked away. She watched him depart, and start to glow.

  VIII

  “Well, look at the bright side. It can’t go on too long, sooner or later they’ll both die from lack of water.” Tre said as he and Ular left the pavilion. Yamikura noted that if nothing else, you had to admire his unique view on life.

  As the sun rose on the second day, the Caretaker and the Red Knight had not moved since the negotiation began. By the afternoon of the first day, John and Kalibra had agreed that there would be one representative from each camp at the table. Replacements would meet outside the pavilion, and be met by the retiring pair before entering. Deminar and Tre left the table a few hours in.

  Yamikura took the shifts with Kalibra, and John was paired with Joshua. The principals agreed that Tre would sit watch with Ular in the very late evening to early morning, as it was the general consensus that those two were much more likely to start a dice game than trouble.

  Yamikura and Kalibra sat in unison. “Kalibra is planning something.” Catherine told Yamikura. “John is rousing the Elites, the excuse is morning drills. She acts on pure impulse, I won’t be able to give you much, or perhaps any, warning.”

  “Understood.” He watched his former training partner for any telltale signs. “The Knight is on her left which means she will have to come across her body to attack. Are we sure it’s the Knight?”

  Catherine considered his question. “Nothing is for sure with Kalibra, but her desire is to ask him what’s going on. She knows if she strikes the Caretaker he’ll just turn into a bear and snap her in two. She is extremely confident in her skills to fight but doesn’t like the idea of starting a fight she knows will kill her. As for striking the Knight, she has no reservations about that at all. Half the time she sticks a knife in him, it’s just to watch him pop!”

  “What’s so funny?” Kalibra looked at her opposite.

  “Tre’s comment.” Yamikura answered. “You’ve spent too much time with Tre, Catherine.”

  “Sorry. Good cover.” Catherine’s embarrassment was evident.

  “What other weapons does she have this morning?”

  “Just a throwing knife, top of her back at the neckline. Would she try to snap his neck, or attack you first?”

  “No, she knows if she tried to snap his neck, I’d have plenty of time to snap hers first. The throwing knife is out. My blade would be through her armpit before she could start a forward motion. Besides, she’s worn that knife every day that I’ve known her. So that leaves the sword, but it’s on my side?” Yamikura tried to put himself in her position.

  “Can you see her scabbard up close?" He asked.

  “Yes.”

  “It opens on a hinge down its length, there are three clasps on the blade side. If they are undone then there would be a single strand of hair holding the middle clasp together.” He waited.

  “This will take a little time.” Catherine focused completely on her presence in the pavilion. She needed to see maximum detail. “Yes, the clasps are open and the hair is there.”

  “She’s going to stab him under the table.” Yamikura pulled his blade as he spun, the stroke would have severed her head, if it had not met her blade first.

  “Now!” Catherine’s shout went out as Yamikura spun.

  The Elites moved to their assignments the instant she spoke. When they moved, the Crimson Guard made for the pavilion, all with a single order, put a blade in the Red Knight. Two Elites made straight for the pavilion, they were the last line of defense. Three others were to get in between the pavilion and the Guard to catch any that made it through. John, Tre, and the remaining fourteen Elite intercepted the eleven Guardsmen midway to the pavilion.

  Kalibra kicked back from the table, to a fighting stance. Yamikura used the momentary upper hand to fight her back, away from the pavilion. With their blades at the speed of a hummingbird’s wing, the two friends and training partners battled. Yamikura’s less aggressive style gave up slight attack advantages so he could press her to give up ground. She substituted her normal kill strokes, which against Yamikura would be risky, in hopes that she could injure him and make it back to the Red Knight. She caught his blade with hers and reached for the throwing blade with her left. He flipped her blade and drew his across to catch her left hand with his hilt. The throwing blade tumbled to the ground.

  John defended strokes from three different Guards
as he fought his was to Joshua. Two Elites had faced off with the Guard captain, one was down and the other in trouble. Joshua’s kill stroke met John’s blade. Calm and centered, John’s blade countered the Guard captain’s. No longer the crippled boy who wanted nothing more than to die in battle for his crimes. His flame was now two. He had a wellspring of love to draw on and to give him peace. He was the wind and time slowed. His blade moved of its own accord, and he was aware of every man around him. Faster and faster his blade flew, sure and to the mark, his balance was true. He could see his opponent’s moves develop before they struck and countered them easily.

  The rhythm turned in John’s favor. He saw his opportunity three strokes away. Two. One. John caught the captain’s sword guard with his tip and the adversary’s sword flew from his hand. A quick stroke to the sword arm to keep him out of the fight and his blade stopped at Joshua’s neck. “Tell your men to disarm or you die.” Joshua grimaced, then his gaze turned in disbelief to the pavilion.

  Kalibra hesitated, Yamikura didn’t trust his sight and moved to the advantage carefully. He swung around behind her with his blade at her throat. “Yield!” He commanded. Her sword dropped, and he realized why she hesitated. A ball of red light engulfed the Pavilion. The Elites backed away as the ball grew in size and intensity. The red light brightened, swirls of deeper and lighter tones moved within the ball that shone like a beacon at midnight. It pulsed, slowly at first, then quicker and quicker. The speed increased to become a hum. In an instant it shrank to half its size and paused. With a thunderous sound the globe burst and a crimson wave swept out from the center. Men fell, the ground shook, and trees bent in its path as the wave glided across the landscape while the sound weakened like an echo of thunder.

  Yamikura lay on the ground, his blade still at Kalibra’s throat. “Tell the Guard to disarm, they have no one to defend now.”

  “Guard Disarm!” Kalibra yelled, though it was unnecessary. As the men arose and walked to the pavilion, there was no conflict.