Forest & Kingdom Balance (33 page)

“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 upon 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?”

“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.