by Mark Boliek
Chapter 15
“Wake up, sleeper.” The whisper shot through JT's head and tickled his eardrum. He suddenly remembered something from his past.
He sat on a bench waiting for his mother—at least, he felt as though the woman suddenly barking orders at him was his mother. “Tuck in your shirt! You look like a slob!”
If this was his mom, why was she filled with such rage? How is a raven like a writing desk? The question interrupted this memory that he did not want to lose.
“What?” he whispered to no one in particular as he spat out a chunk of dirt.
The moist ground smelled fresh. The ferns that covered the forest floor he lay in pierced the humid air with a sweet aroma that seemed to hang between the trees. He heard birds chirping, then the unmistakable sound of armored soldiers marching.
“JT!” Arthur pulled on his arms, trying to help him to his feet. “JT! We need to get out of here in a hurry.”
Muted yelling sounded far away. A tremendous thud shook the ground. JT, now on his feet, realized he was dressed in mail. It was not heavy, but felt awkward and unsettling, like he was being pushed from behind, urged to run. He did not know where he was going. He only knew he was moving forward.
The visor of his helmet slammed shut. He became more disoriented and struggled to pull it off of his head. Once the helmet came off and fell to the ground, he could identify the noise around him.
Behind and to his right, a man screamed orders. “Ready, archers, take your mark.”
JT looked to his left; Arthur was beside him. To his left and slightly in front of him, two armored figures ran as hard as they could. He decided they were Michael and Jenny. Though JT believed them to be moving swiftly, they did not seem to be gaining a lot of ground.
JT glanced behind him. A line of men raised bows and they took their aim, the sound of taut bowstrings echoing through the clearing beneath the canopies of trees. His legs exploded into a sprint.
A figure appeared in front of him, its shape familiar. As he came closer, he glimpsed her profile. It was Kali.
“What?” JT squeaked. He had no time to react. “Get down!” he yelled.
Within a millisecond, he heard the bowstrings release with an awful knock, then a hiss as the arrows searched for their targets.
“Everybody get down!” Arthur shouted across the tops of the ferns. As soon as the words left his lips, JT heard three armored bodies slam to the ground, yet he darted toward Kali. He knew the arrows must have been close; the whistles from the feathers became louder and louder. His breath became shorter and shorter.
He leapt toward Kali to tackle her, but his arms passed through her like a ghost. He slammed into the ground. As he landed, he looked up behind him. An arrow passed right through her chest. Then came the sound of a hundred or more arrows sinking into tree trunks throughout the forest.
What in the world? JT thought. His eyebrows shot up his forehead. What just happened?
Kali turned to him. A chill ran up JT’s spine. Could it be Kali's ghost? The young woman peered at him with loving eyes. In a faint, wispy voice, she said, “I knew you would come back for me.”
Kali turned toward the line of archers, floating and dancing, screaming and making horrible noises. The soldiers raised and drew their bows again, but, just as they were about to fire, the men's fright became obvious. A few of them shot wildly; the rest of the soldiers turned and ran away in terror.
Kali disappeared.
JT sat up and scanned the forest. Michael, Jenny, and Arthur popped their heads up soon after.
“Was that Kali?” Arthur asked.
“Kali?” Michael pulled off his helmet. “Where?”
“Kali is here?” Jenny asked. “I want to meet her.”
“She was just over there, but she vanished,” JT yelled. As soon as he said that, he heard Kali's voice behind him, soft and windy.
“I wouldn't really say that I vanished.”
JT sprang to his feet and whirled around. Kali looked like herself, but quite different. He reached out to take her arm, but his hand passed right through her limb.
“How is this possible?” JT asked.
“Well—“ Kali began, but JT, terrified, interrupted her.
“Are you a ghost? Are you dead?” JT tried to be matter-of-fact, but his heart rammed in his chest. He could not deal with Kali being dead.
“JT,” Kali said. “No. I'm not dead.”
“Then how are you like…” JT stuttered. “Like…like…this?”
Arthur walked delicately toward Kali. She looked at the man lifting his armored legs up and down, crunching the ground beneath them. She looked a little frightened. Her breath caught as the man removed his helmet.
His eyes beamed at her. It took her a moment to realize that it was her father, but the young Arthur smile as he remembered when Kali had truly been fifteen. His heart filled, his chest heaved with a sob, and he reached out to pull her close, but his arms passed right through her.
His fleeting joy turned to panic.
“Why can't I hug you? I've missed you so.”
“I know. I am sorry.” Kali began to walk toward the dark depths of the forest. “Please find me.”
“Where? What is this about?” JT yelled.
Arthur ran after her.
Her image glided and picked up speed, a specter floating gently into the shadows of the trees. Before Arthur could reach her, Kali vanished.
JT, Michael, and Jenny made their way to Arthur. It was silently agreed that they follow in the direction Kali's ghost had taken.
Their mail jingled, but they remained silent. Their questions never surfaced. No one knew whether to believe what they saw or not, but they didn't want to talk about it. After some time, the four travelers came to the edge of the forest. A valley sprawled beneath them, half-covered by a village built around a very large castle with very high towers and sturdy wall around it.
They peered down at the kingdom for a moment, not really certain what to do next. JT calmed himself down. There had to be someone who could help them.
JT meditated silently, then took a profound breath. A slight breeze on the back of his neck made his hairs stand up, as though the wind was telling him to move forward.
He studied the ground directly in front of him. The land fell abruptly, almost forming a cliff. There would be no way for him to go in that direction.
The breeze blew harder. The sky of Bruinduer began to turn a milky white and the temperature dropped very quickly.
Acting on faith, JT took a step toward the edge. As he looked over the side, a crook in the embankment revealed a path that led to the valley below, like a large winding staircase.
JT turned and walked down the path and his three companions followed without a word. After they had taken few steps down the hill, the sky opened. It began to snow.
The snow floated down softly, then the flakes grew larger and fell relentlessly. The four travelers trudged on to the bottom and into the valley, through the cold and the growing depth of snow, tired and hungry.
Finally, JT turned to his friends. “We need to find somewhere to get out of this weather!” he yelled back. By this time the wind howled and the snow rushed in a blizzard, blowing sideways.
“Please help us, Billy,” JT whispered with his head bowed against the angry wind. His bones were cold and his feet felt numb. The others did not complain, but he knew they felt miserable, too.
He could not tell if it was Billy or just the screaming weather, but something turned his head to the right. In the distance, he saw a cabin nestled in the woods, its windows glowing from a warm fire and light, beckoning travelers to come inside.
They plowed through the blizzard and up the path to the cabin, where JT knocked on the door. He did not pound, for he did not want to begin by being demanding.
A brief moment passed, then the door cracked open.
“Please, come in.”
The four travelers trudged through the door, one after the
other, their mail jingling.
“Welcome.” The voice echoed from the shadows behind the door as it closed. “Please make your way to the fire. It is strangely and bitterly cold outside. And, please, take that heavy metal off.”
“Thank you,” the four travelers said one after another, their voices quiet in the cozy cottage. They stood before the fire and helped each other out of their mail.
Meanwhile, a short, round man stepped out of the shadows behind the door and moved lightly toward them.
“My name is Homer. Please make yourselves at home.” The short man waddled to the kitchen area and prepared a hot drink for his guests. His worn clothes did not look as though they belonged to a poor man, but more likely to a man who worked with his hands. Wood shavings clung to the fibers and small rips riddled his black suit. His tie, though aged, had been tied in a careful knot, as though it were a prized possession. The ensemble looked well on the short man and he moved comfortably in it.
“Are you sure you are no one else?” JT asked hopefully, for he thought the man might have been Billy in disguise.
“No. I am Homer as I have always been. If I were someone else, I think I would know that.” Homer spoke with his back turned, clanking dishes as he prepared something.
The man's voice was rough but comforting. He did not rush in his movements, but made each one deliberately. Before long, he delicately placed a tray of steaming cups before his guests, then humbly went to the edge of his own couch and sat upon it.
The drink smelled sweet and the four travelers attacked it with fervor. It went down smoothly, tasting a bit like honey and cola.
The round man studied his guests. “You are not from around here are you? Brought this snow with you, hmm?” He did not sound angry, but as if he suspended his judgment until he knew why they were there.
JT still felt like he had seen his host before, but could not place it.
“Yes, you’re right. We are not from here, but I don't see how we could have brought the snow.” JT cracked a small smile and Jenny, Arthur, and Michael chuckled a bit.
“Yes, indeed.” The old gentleman crossed his legs. “In such a land as this, word travels very fast. It is said that you came from the sky and, with you, you brought this bitter chill. Not that this land sees only warm days, but we have never seen the snow quite like it has been today.”
“What can you tell us about this kingdom?” Arthur spoke up. Obviously, his thoughts had turned to Kali and he wanted information.
“Ah, this kingdom with no name. It is said that we have no name because no name besides the name of our god and his kingdom deserves to be spoken.”
“Who is your god?” Jenny asked.
“Why, Kwaida, of course.” Homer smiled.
“That's Billy,” JT mumbled under his breath.
“What was that, my boy?” Homer's interest was piqued.
“Oh, really?” JT said, louder. “I have heard of Kwaida.” JT's cheeks turned pink.
“Well, I should hope so,” Homer replied.
“More about the kingdom,” Arthur persisted. “We came from the forest. We saw an apparition in the forest, a young lady dressed in white. There were soldiers hunting her, I think—or hunting us. I could not know for sure. Do you know anything about her?” Arthur kept his voice light and curious, not revealing that the apparition was his daughter.
“Ah, yes, the lady of the forest,” Homer began. “There is a story about our kingdom. You see, there is no pain in this world. There is no hunger. We have no wars. There is no disease. Everyone is prosperous. But it is said that that sense of peace comes with a price.
“Usually that type of serenity only comes after some cataclysm or major war. The stories say that the peace we have comes from this young girl's sacrifice. You see, our king, whom no one sees, tortures this innocent girl once a day for an hour. As long as she takes this world's burden upon her, no one will hurt in our land upon the hill. The king, in all of his power and greed, takes his aggression out on this one child and, because of it, he refrains from the persecution of the masses.”
Arthur dropped his cake back on his plate.
“The lady of the forest, they say, searches for her love to come and rescue her from the clutches of the king and his pain.”
Arthur's heart sank, his fears confirmed.
“What?” JT yelled out.
“Oh my God.” Jenny burst into tears.
“Easy, easy, my friends. Please continue to drink, eat, and relax. It is just a tale—probably only to explain what people may or may not see in the woods.” Homer paused to let his guests, visibly upset, calm down. “Our leader does not hide, by the way. We see him at least once a week, so the story of our heroine is just that—a story, a tall tale.”
“But I saw her as close as day! And what about those soldiers out in the woods shooting arrows at her?” Arthur was becoming impatient.
“Hmmm.” Homer took another bite from a biscuit. “There have been tales of seeing vapors in the forest under the spells of the night, no doubt. But have any of you thought that maybe our soldiers weren't shooting at the lady of the forest, but at the real…” Homer pointed at his guests, “…occupants of the forest this afternoon?”
JT thought about it for a second. It was possible. “But the soldiers ran when they saw Kali.”
Homer's eyes snapped open and he took a deep breath. “Just stories, my new friends, only stories. The day brings the truth.”
Homer cleared the plates and glasses, then gathered his guests and made them beds near the warmth of the fire. The wind and blizzard blew ferociously outside, piling the snow against the house and weighing down the limbs of the trees. “Please make yourself welcome in my home. We will talk more in the morning.”