by D. W. Rigsby
Petro found himself alone outside in the gardens, where the moon shone bright overhead. He’d made his way to the far end of the garden, away from any paths where people might walk, so he could be alone. He squeezed through the brush and into the center where it was open, yet hidden from site. The dirt felt cool to the touch, his fingers pinching it, letting it drop, and then grabbing a fistful and letting it sift through his hands. There must be a reason for his going to Tokus Numas. King Amerstall had told him that going would be an adventure, and he’d learn things that were different as well as things that were the same, and it would give him perspective. And there was Queen Lilith, who said it would do Petro good to learn what the Numas did across the lands of Spearca and how they served those in need. Those were reasons, but they weren’t very good reasons for Petro. He needed something more—something meaningful before he decided to go to Tokus Numas.
An air current passed through the leaves. Winter would soon be here. There would certainly be snow in the mountains where he was going. The journey was several weeks by horse and wagon but less time taking a train. He knew there was reason not to take the royal air transport—those days were behind him for now. He was to travel with the Numas and the other recruits. Taking the oath tomorrow would limit his benefits of being a ward to King Amerstall. It wasn’t that he flew all that much, only a few times; it was more the thought of having to let it go. That did not add favor to going to Tokus Numas. What else is there? he thought. He’d only be allowed to visit at the end of each year, and he might be granted a vidocom, but he wasn’t sure if they’d allow it. It sounded like the Numas dissuaded their students from reaching back too often. There were letters—he could write to Dia and Silda if he liked, which was fine with him. Most of these reasons seemed be more negative.
He wished he had more information, but his tablet he’d lost—so he’d need to go on what he knew. It was known that the Numas gathered intelligence across the kingdoms; he’d heard that from King Amerstall, and Vetus Sepher mentioned it earlier today. Now, that could come in handy, he thought. He might be able to learn a lot about the Father, what he was doing, and if he were a threat to Dugual. This was a plus, so he tossed dirt into a pile and mentally labeled it “pro”; and then made another quick pile and labeled it “con.” The con pile had already grown to the size of his fist.
The moon shone like pearls in his eyes as he measured each of the piles again to be certain he had the count correct. He let out his breath slowly and deliberately. It would be hard for him to leave behind all he knew. Everything he knew had come from Dugual; he had been brought here by the Numas when he was a babe. Queen Lilith had told him, but not until he was eight or nine years of age. He never thought about it, about asking where he came from; he’d known for several years he was a ward. No one had ever told him about his real mother or his real father. He’d asked Queen Lilith once before when he was twelve years old. King Amerstall, Prince Sid, Princess Dia, and Silda were gone—they’d headed off to a festival in Cardell to celebrate the harvest. The kingdom of Cardell produced extremely high-quality food, and that was their primary export. While Petro and Queen Lilith sat together, having dinner, he had decided to ask her a question.
“Queen Lilith, can you tell me who my mother and father are?” he’d said.
She had cleared her throat, dabbed her mouth with a napkin, and took a drink. “I do not know who your parents were. The Numas gave us little information.” Her hands shook visibly.
Petro’s brow furrowed as she worked to steady her hands.
“You know this is not the kind of dinner conversation we approve of, but I must tell you something about your parents,” she went on in a low tone.
Petro felt as though something horrible were about to occur, and then she said, “Your parents have passed on—we believe shortly after your birth. We do not know the reason for it, and we do not have any additional details. We only know what the Numas told us,” she said.
He’d gotten a sharp pain in his temple. When he went to go rub it, it disappeared, and then he heard her voice again. “You know this is not the kind of dinner conversation we approve of, but I must tell you something about your parents.”
Petro blurted out, “My parents are dead.”
Her hand shook so hard she nearly spilled her drink. A servant came to her aid, and Queen Lilith motioned to the servant to leave. “Where did you learn that from?” She said with a cool stare. It was unlike her, but whatever he’d just done, she was not amused.
“I overheard it; I’m not sure from where. I was walking down the hall. Probably one of the servants,” Petro said.
Queen Lilith motioned, and a servant came to her side, and then he helped her with her chair. She got up. “Petro, please finish your meal. I think we should continue this discussion when King Amerstall returns.” She left the room.
It was a long time ago, but he remembered it vividly, as though he’d lived it just yesterday. Were the Numas hiding information about his parents? If so, why? When King Amerstall did return, they never did continue their conversation about the topic, and Petro never brought it back up. He knew he was a ward, but he also felt a loyalty to both King Amerstall and Queen Lilith.
Pro, he thought and dumped a hand full of dirt into the left pile for his parents.
He was excited about going but also not interested in leaving. Two polar opposite feelings pulled him into two different directions. If he did not go to Tokus Numas, he believed both King Amerstall and Queen Lilith would be disappointed in him. Their feelings would pass, but it was King Amerstall who he felt would be the most disappointed, and it bothered him to think it. Dia would be disappointed, too. She seemed to admire those who served both God and man; there was a sparkle in her eye when she spoke of the Numas, as though they were special. Petro didn’t think they were any different than anyone else—no, he felt they were just like regular folks, going about life in a different manner. Serving people did appeal to him, like the time he helped a woman find her purse. She’d left it at the market, and he’d heard her going on about it as he passed by her and some men who were listening to her complaint. He had felt the need to assist, so he approached her. “Where did you last see it?” he’d asked, looking straight into her eyes.
“Umm…I was over by the fruit stand, looking over the apples, pears, and peaches. I set my purse down a moment to smell the fruit to see which ones were ripe. When I found a few apples I liked, I took a bag and put them in it. I did the same with the pears and peaches. When I realized that I left my purse on the table, it was gone. I searched the entire area, and still I can’t find it,” she said with a bleak stare.
“OK. Let me ask you one more question. Did you have any food in your purse?”
Her eyes went up, and she took her time before responding. “I did have a piece of crumb cake I rolled up in a napkin,” she said. “Why do you…” Before she could finish, Petro had dashed over to the fruit stand. He searched the entire area, running his hands over the fruit and table and keeping his eyes on where he touched. It was a technique he’d learned in order to see what was in front of him by using his sense of touch, because sometimes we miss things just with our eyes. He finished his search, and it didn’t take him long to find a few crumbs that had slipped out onto the ground. He continued to follow the trail until he came to an alley, and there, next to the corner of a building, was her purse. He picked it up and returned.
“How did you know where to find it?” she said.
Petro handed her the purse. “I think maybe a dog found your purse, ate the cake, and left the purse in the alley.”
She smiled and patted him on the head.
It felt good to help someone, and maybe, because the Numas were about helping people, he could see himself as one. Maybe he could help keep Dugual safe. He picked up more dirt and placed into the left pile, which was now taller than the right pile.
If men were meant to fly, God would have given them wings!
—From Th
e Recorded Quotes of King Further, by the historians of King Clammer
The blue sky was filled with cotton-ball clouds that hovered over an oval field where three falconers stood in front of spectators gathered for the Numas’ induction ceremony. Those of royalty sat center position of the field, the castle to their backs. The others who’d come to join were spread out to the right side of the field, not too far away to see the spectacle that was to unfold. There were benches brought in for seating, though many stood. Across the open field near the edge on the left was a wooded line, part of the interconnecting paths that went back into the king’s garden. A sparrow was released from its cage, and it took off in flight. The crowd looked on in anticipation. Next, one falconer let his hawk free; it was golden in color, and its feathers glimmered as the light from above passed over them. The crowd gasped as the hawk missed its first attempt to take the sparrow from flight. The fleeing bird spun down into a dive and then curved back up, making its way to nearby trees in hopes of evading its killer. Another gasp from the crowd filled the air as they watched the sparrow dodge the mighty talons that nearly caught it. The great hawk swooped down toward the ground and then back up, high into the sky, way above the sparrow; then it dived at an angle toward the tree line. Just as the sparrow touched the tip of a branch, the hawk snatched it away, carrying its lifeless body back to its master. The crowd cheered, hooted, and hollered. The three men in their leather wear showed off the hawks once more with a raising of their arms, and then they bowed. The crowd roared and clapped, and the noise echoed across the field.
Petro looked at the people dressed in bright clothing of gold, amber, blue, and white. Those were the shopkeepers, royal clerks, tax collectors, and others who held higher positions of authority within Dugual. He looked deeper into the crowd and saw people dressed in browns, blacks, and dark grays—those were the workers, the ones who tilled the fields, milked the cows, worked the roads, and collected the garbage. All seemed to be enjoying themselves, but he could not bring himself to share in their enthusiasm. He glanced behind him, squinting from the glare of the sun above to catch a glimpse of Dia. King Amerstall came into view, dressed in red and white, along with his wife, Queen Lilith, showing the unification of their houses. She had been selected by King Amerstall to marry, a custom the Duguals carried on to select those from the linage of the Earls. However, it was not the only reason; anyone could tell from her radiant beauty and firm but fair-handedness with others that she was more than just a custom.
Petro, Sha, Christon, and Adar stood at the base where the royal family was seated alongside Vetus Sepher. On the field, Petro waited, looking back over his shoulder from time to time to see King Amerstall, Queen Lilith, Princess Dia, and Prince Sid. Silda was seated below Princess Dia. She wore a light-brown dress with light-blue bows sewn symmetrically up and down the fabric. Other royal families had come to join. There was King Sirhc and his wife and King Morella and his concubine; he had left his wife behind, as she did not like to travel. It was less painful on his ears, as she complained quite often of her aches on the road. There was also Malic, the king from the far north, and Baron Sirens. They’d brought their sons and daughters to join in the remaining festivities for the evening.
All four of the inductees were dressed in long blue tunics with nothing under them. The blue meant trust, loyalty, faith, and peace. On their feet were leather sandals that could be easily removed before stepping in the pool of water. They were ready to be washed clean of their pasts and begin anew. Vetus Sepher stood nearby in a green cloak chosen for today’s ceremony, a way to display his role in mentoring these young men. The color meant life from God, and it signified renewal of life, energy, growth, and harmony. Twenty Numas took to the field on horses, wearing silver cloaks and carrying white bows and quivers filled with blue arrows. The horses’ hooves pounded down onto the dirt, sending waves out and away from the center in a ripple like that of a pebble thrown into still water.
Petro struggled to take a full breath. His mouth tightened, and his chest burned inside, giving off a slight ache. He felt he might burst out in fits of laughter or rage—he couldn’t tell. He’d learned long ago that things were truly out of his control and that the outcome of his decisions could not be foretold. One of his masters had taught him that only the one who struggles within and wrestles with himself loses; the one who understands and sees who he fights will be the victor.
His fingernails dug into the palms of his hands as his body searched for a way to release the pent-up emotion. At times he found himself excited about the prospect of leaving Dugual and going to Tokus Numas, and other times he yearned to hide away until everyone was gone.
A wagon crept along the side of the field away from the dancing horses that continued in the center. Its wheels met uneven ground, causing the driver’s head to bob up and down. The dark-brown horse pulled the wagon along until it came close to Petro; the man pulled on the reins, and the horse whinnied, snorted, and came to a stop. He got out and proceeded to the rear. There he pulled a ramp out from under the wagon’s belly and placed it on the ground. He walked up the plank and took a cover off what appeared to be a large pool of water, no doubt for the cleansing.
The men on horses were from the Honor Guard, a division of the Vetus Guard who were sworn to protect Tokus Numas from all enemies. The bows they carried had a sacred meaning to the Numas. Those who held a bow in their hands also held God’s weapon, one that He no longer pointed toward them, giving His sign each time after a rainfall when the colored rainbow would appear, pointed to the heavens. Numas who carried the bow were required to hold the bow and seven arrows in their hands while on horseback, riding at thirty kilometers an hour, and accurately shoot seven targets within ten seconds. It was a difficult skill to master; and over a period of years, those who did master the skill were bestowed the honor of taking a bow into battle.
Dia faced forward, her posture straight and almost rigid; she had a distant stare in her eyes. It was proof of her royal training in the presence of others, though Petro liked her when she was by herself, with a smile on her face and laughter in her voice. She would be the queen one day. His lips stretched out into a smile. She was dressed in red to signify spilled blood, and Sid was dressed in white for the purification of the royal houses. Sid somehow just seemed out of place to Petro. He chuckled quietly to himself. Sid turned and glared at him as if he had heard him. The burning thought of Sid smashing that rock into face pierced Petro’s mind like a dagger. There was a nudge on his arm, and Vetus Sepher nodded toward the open field.
A full-size, three-dimensional foam model of the keeldreer, white and pure, was brought out on the field. The horses’ hooves shook the ground as they burst into a gallop, encircling the object, kicking up dirt and grass in their wake. The formation broke away suddenly into a line stretched across the far end of the field. Then they sped into a full gallop, headed toward Petro, Vetus Sepher, and the three other recruits, who had arrived just this morning. The horses slid to a stop, causing them to back away. The Numas turned their horses around, kicking lightly with the inside their right legs and pulling the reins to the left. With a swish of the leather reins, they rode out, and the leader broke off to his right; the next did the same, and the next followed. They rode in a circle around the keeldreer. Then the Numas raised their bows in one hand as a salute to the keeldreer, a sacred animal from the High Mountains that was difficult to track and difficult to bring down. They drew from their quivers three blue, razor-tipped arrows and stood high in their saddles, their stirrups taut and their inner thighs gripping hard. The leader notched his bow and then came around a second time, pulled the string back, and released, notched and released, notched and released. His reflexes were quick, and the arrows were launched one after the other. The arrows took flight, hurtling toward the keeldreer. One sunk into its neck, another into its heart, and another into its lung. One, two, three—each arrow found its target on the tail end of the other. The next Numa did the same, and his ar
row struck to the right of the heart, and the next, and the next did the same until twenty Numas had pierced the keeldreer with three arrows each—sixty arrows in all.
Petro’s eyes were wide as he took in all there was to see: the blue arrows, the white keeldreer, the men in the silver cloaks, the horses covered in leather armor, and the roaring of the crowd. This was a sight indeed for Petro, and he thought this was maybe something worth his time. He glanced back to see Dia clapping, too, and she seemed lost in the moment as the men on horses slowed their steeds and came to a rest. He thought she looked mesmerized by the sight, and if he could do what these men could do, she might be proud. He turned back around to see Adar, one of the young men, going up to the wagon, where he was stripped naked. A feeling of shock filled Petro—naked—Vetus Sepher never told him he’d have to show all his privates. He thought back to the other ceremonies and remembered that those poor souls did have to strip down, but it didn’t make him feel any better. Chiston, the guy next to him, was fidgeting with his hands and counting under his breath. Then suddenly he ran off—headed toward the crowd. The people laughed and hooted and opened a way for him to pass through.
One more recruit, Sha, and then it would be Petro’s turn. He watched until Sha had been dunked in the water, said his vows, and then put on a robe. A burst of cool air brushed against Petro’s face. His skin formed tiny bumps, and he shook slightly. He took in a deep breath and let it out; he was next. It’s now or never, he thought. Take off my clothes or run for the crowd. He pictured himself running through the crowd, pushing the laughing and mocking faces out of his way as he tried to escape. If he did run, he’d be counted as a coward, and Sid would use it against him for all the days left at Castle Dugual. He could hear Sid laugh in his head now and was not about to let that happen. If he did run, Queen Lilith would be ashamed, Dia would be embarrassed, Silda might be happy for him—he wasn’t sure why—and King Amerstall wouldn’t be proud of him.