The Children of Jacob Part 3/10

At two in the morning the streets of the capital were empty and the houses were all dark.  Kathryn had only her lamp and the starlight to guide her.  She would periodically look behind herself as she navigated her way between the buildings, each time being satisfied that no one was there.  At last she saw her target up ahead--a building with a single red candle lit in one of its first floor windows.  Upon reaching the door she gave it two swift knocks, and then paused before giving it three more.

“Who is it that would disturb this peaceful home at such an hour as this?”  came a voice from within.

“And what sort of hour is this?”  Kathryn replied.

“One that is late, but no yet late enough.”

“Better late than early.”

As soon as she spoke these last words, the door crept open in front of her, just wide enough to allow her through.  The room was lit by a single lantern sitting in the middle of the floor with several people huddled around it.  Since she had first been approached by the two founders of this movement three years earlier, fifteen more councilors had joined the cause.  There were seven others there who were important officials from some of the states.

“Hello Kathryn.  I think everyone is here now.”

Kathryn nodded in acknowledgement of the greeting and then joined the circle seated around the lantern.  She listened quietly as the discussion began.

“The leaders of three more states have said they would be able to provide men for the rebellion.  That gives us a total of forty-five out of fifty-three.”

“We should have more than enough men to take the capital now.  I say we strike as soon as possible.”

“Agreed.  There’s no point delaying and risking being discovered.”

“We could have an army organized and battle plans ready within two weeks.”

“Excellent!  Let’s get to it, then.”

At this point Kathryn spoke up, saying, “I still believe we can do this without any fighting if we wait just a little bit longer.  I have friends in the military that I think we can win over.”

“No it’s too risky.  We can succeed if we strike now, so why not do it while we can?”

“Because if we attack now we will be forced to kill,” Kathryn replied.  “But if we can win over the Imperial army, then we can dissolve the Empire without any loss of life.”

“We might be able to, but on the other hand, if we try bringing in a soldier who ends up turning against us, he could leak the whole thing and bring our rebellion to a very quick end.  Just think of the good that we could do for so many future generations if we’re successful.  The loss of a few lives now is certainly tragic, but we have to think of the greater good.”

“You may be right, but I don’t want to be instituting a regime that rules by force.  If our ideals are truly as virtuous as we believe, then we should be able to convince people to join by reason.  Otherwise we’ll be no better than the Empire we’re trying to replace.  I have a friend in the army who will not betray us.  Give me a chance to talk to him and see if he has some feel for how sympathetic the rest of the army might be.  If it looks like it’ll be too dangerous, then we can go ahead with the attack.  We still need time to organize anyway, right?”

“Sounds reasonable.  We’ll put it to a vote.  All in favor, say ‘aye.’”

Twenty of the twenty-five gave their consent.

“All right.  Go talk to your friend and bring us an answer before next week’s meeting.”

#

            In the light of the full moon a single horseman could be seen riding toward the great wall of the city.  So small and insignificant did he appear from the towering height of that wall, that the guards stationed there regarded him with little more than passing curiosity.  Could he be a member of the Imperial army?  But what purpose did he hope to serve by attempting this lonely charge?  Partly from amusement and partly just to see what he would do, they withheld their volley of arrows.

            So too did the guards appear insignificant to Abar as his horse approached the sturdy gate that stood closed before him.  The massive stonework built about the city of Hamor had repelled as many attacks through the sheer intimidation of its presence as from its physical strength, and yet Abar felt no fear.  Rather, the size of the wall confronting him only made him feel more acutely the magnitude of his own power.  It welled up within him, anxious to unleash its destructive force upon that which seemed so confident in its frail strength.  It would not have to wait long.

            “You have made me very angry,” Abar called out to whoever might have been listening far above in the darkness, “and yet even now I may still show you mercy.  Open your gates and surrender, and I will not destroy you all.”

The only response he received was a familiar whistling sound coming from an unseen source.  His horse reared up beneath him so abruptly that he was thrown to the ground.  Fortunately, his steed just missed falling on top of him as it came crashing down with a single arrow protruding from its neck.  Whatever patience he may have still possessed had just been destroyed.  Abar pulled himself to his feet and gave a long shout.  Briefly it echoed in the otherwise silent darkness before it was joined by the thunder of thousands of hooves.

            As the grand army of the Empire stormed toward the city, more archers joined the defense and filled the sky with arrows.  Abar watched them sail harmlessly overhead toward the soldiers who were still behind him.  They could not hurt him now.  He had given the signal, and the city of Hamor was now of no more significance than the dust beneath his feet.

            The arrows were soon falling all around Abar, but still he stood motionless, assured of his immunity to the attack from his outmatched foe.  The soft thud of arrows sticking into the ground was replaced by the sharper clang of metal on metal as his soldiers dismounted and formed a protective wall with their shields.  Then the counter-attack began, first with arrows, and then with massive boulders flung by mighty catapults.

            Abar’s steady gaze remained fixed on the wall in front of him.  On one section after another he would focus his intense rage, willing the hated stones to fly apart.  They each, compelled by the catapults, obeyed.  Soon, the city realized the futility of its efforts and ceased emitting arrows.  Abar raised his left arm, and the volley of projectiles from behind him stopped as well.  He paused for a few moments and surveyed his fallen foe--a lifeless pile of rubble.  He savored the sudden quiet and took great pleasure in the knowledge that he alone determined whether peace or chaos was to rule.  Slowly, he lowered his arm and pointed to the heap of stones.  The quiet gave way once more to the clamor of horses as his army descended on the ruins.  They would not bother searching for spoils.  Everything was to be destroyed.

#

How different the great hall was now from the first time she had seen it.  The wealth was still there.  The paintings, the ornate columns, the lamp stands, each of the silver articles on the mirrored table--they were all exactly as they had been then.  What was missing was life.  Kathryn now walked down the main aisle alone with no companion beside her and no crowds pressing in to watch her.

The rebellion had left the physical untouched but had destroyed the building’s soul.  What good were all these riches with no one to gaze at them in admiration?  Once they had been a symbol of the vast gap that stood between ruler and ruled, but now that everyone had been made equal they were meaningless.  The grandeur that had seemed so intimidating when she had first seen it was now nothing more than a pathetic pretense demanding praise for a glory that had long since deserted it.

She thought of all the labor that had paid for that silver--farmers toiling long hours under the heat of the sun, miners risking their lives down deep shafts to draw forth the treasures buried within, fisherman braving raging storms over the deep seas, herdsmen protecting their flocks from wild beasts, and so many others.  The work of a continent serving one man.  This was the way of the old order, but it would not be the way of the new.  She vowed to herself at that moment to return the spoils that had been taken from the working men and women of the Empire.

She would retrieve everything of value and destroy it, melting it down to be minted as coins and paid back to the people.  Fortunately the bureaucrats of the Empire had been very thorough in their documentation of absolutely everything that ever happened.  The endless paperwork had been a perpetual frustration to her when she had been a councilor, but now it would make her plan possible.  She would take an inventory of the Imperial warehouses and make sure that all the treasures within were returned to their true owners.

#

Her two friends were already waiting for her in their crimson cloaks when she arrived.  They were standing on the bridge talking when Jorim noticed Kathryn and, breaking off in mid-sentence, turned toward her with an expression that betrayed his excitement at seeing her.

“Hey there!” he called out.  “You’re late.”

“Having so much fun in your council meeting that you lost track of the time, eh?”  Jacob queried with a grin.

Kathryn laughed.  “Yeah, we actually decided to scrap the meeting today and just go to a pub.  It’s not like we ever get anything done there anyway.”

“Of course.  I’m sure the Empire practically runs itself,” added Jorim.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’d better if it did,” said Kathryn, her voice growing more serious.

“What do you mean?”  Jacob asked.

“What do we do for them?  Sure we do our best to make sure that no one has too little or too much, but do they really need us for that?  We could probably eliminate poverty all together if all the bureaucrats, politicians, and soldiers necessary for making the system work started doing some honest labor rather than just leeching off the work of everyone else.”

“So you’re advocating that we should all be booted out of our jobs?” asked Jacob.  “How could you feel safe at night without the reassurance that we were out there fending off evil?”

“That certainly is a concern, but honestly how much fighting do you actually do?  The Empire is surrounded by water on three sides and an impenetrable jungle on the fourth.  It’s not as if we have hordes of enemies waiting at the borders for an opportune moment to invade.  Of course we’d need to keep people to take care of the occasional highway bandit, but do we really need such a large army for that?”

“Sometimes all our training does seem a bit much, considering the jobs that we actually end up doing.  Maybe it would be better to scale back the army and have civilians in charge of the goods distribution,” Jorim postulated.

“Isn’t it possible that we have so few enemies precisely because we have such a large army?  Maybe it’s necessary as a preventive measure,” answered Jacob.

“Preventive?  From whom?  Are you afraid the monkeys in the jungle are going to launch an all-out assault as soon as we relax our guard?” asked Kathryn.

“It’s possible,” Jacob replied, “but somehow I doubt that they’d be much of a threat--all we’d have to do is throw a few bananas at them and they’d forget about their invasion.  The Empire has its reasons for keeping an army.  There could be other enemies out there that we’re unaware of.”

“But if we’re not aware of them, then who is?  I’m on the council and you both hold important positions in the army.”

“The emperor,” said Jacob.

“And where is this mysterious threat supposed to come from?”

“I don’t know.  But as you said yourself, the army isn’t really necessary just to act as a police force to keep the bandits in check.  Since we’re still here, the emperor must have a reason for keeping us.”

“I can think of another reason,” replied Kathryn.  “Maybe he views his own citizens as the enemy.  Maybe you guys are there to intimidate them into obedience.”

Jacob nearly shouted back, “That’s absurd!”

“No more absurd than your invisible enemy.”

Jorim, who had been silently listening to the debate while trying to make up his own mind on what was being said, suddenly spoke up in a half whisper, “That does make some sense, Kathryn...but I’m sure if we look into it there must be another explanation.”

#

Kathryn’s heart sank as she opened the door to the Imperial library and saw far more books than even the vast quantity she had been expecting.  At least they were neatly arranged on their shelves.  Otherwise she would have immediately walked out again and told him to find the book himself if he really wanted it that much.  Unfortunately there were no labels, so although they had no doubt been carefully grouped by subject, the only way of determining what those groupings were would be to start looking.

She started flipping through the volumes in the nearest section and found them to be full of long lists of numbers.  They were detailed records of all the goods that had ever been collected or redistributed by the government.  From a quick glance it seemed that they were fairly complete dating all the way back to the very earliest days of the Empire.  She suddenly felt an urge to look up the transactions with her father’s farm, just to see his name among all those others in that list that united every working person ever to have lived in the Empire.  It would have to wait--now she had a job to do.

The next section down contained the official biographies of each of the emperors.  She scanned a few lines of some of them and felt a sense of revulsion at what she saw.  Those pages deified those whom they described, elevating their rulings to the status of the unquestionable.  Each one was declared to be wise and just not through any critical analysis of his work, but purely by merit of his title.  That was why the Empire had failed.

The works of history she came across next were similar to the biographies in that they existed only to praise and not to analyze.  What good would they be now that the Empire was gone?  To future readers they would merely be reminders of the folly of a less sophisticated age.  She did not like the idea of burning books, but she could think of no other use for these than as fuel.  With a morbid fascination, she continued paging back through time, noticing that as she proceeded further back the stories gradually transformed from historical documentation to children’s bedtime stories.  The strength of the heroes and the daring of their exploits increased exponentially the nearer one came to the beginning of the series, but the transition was so smooth that one scarcely noticed it happening.  This metamorphosis of the rational to the irrational made her feel strangely uneasy.

There, preceding the earliest of the historical volumes, was the book she had been asked to retrieve.  Its cover was solid black with the title written in gold letters down the spine.  He had not told her anything about its contents or why he wanted it, so she felt somehow duty-bound to look through it before handing it over to him.  From the earliest chapters she came to the conclusion that it was nothing more than the earliest of the historical works.  However, its stories were so enshrouded in the fantastic that it was difficult to guess what actual events might have inspired them.

As she continued skimming through the pages, she discovered that the events chronicled there overlapped some of those from the later works.  Perhaps this was not just another part of the series, but a summary complete in itself.  Something seemed different about this account, however.  It was not that the facts were in contradiction with the other versions--they agreed well as far as she could remember.  There was just a vague sense that something was not quite right.  As she continued reading, this feeling grew more intense until with a sudden jolt she realized what it was.  Slamming the book shut, she tucked it under her arm and fled the library, still not believing what she had just read.  For some reason he must have been trying to deceive her, but she could not figure out how he had managed to execute such a hoax.  Fine.  She would give him the book as he had asked and then forget about it.

#

In the beginning the land was empty.  The proud mountains looked out over the barren continent with none to rival their power.  Then plant-life of all varieties grew up to fill this wasteland, growing so dense that no patch of ground was left open to the sky; for there were as of yet no beasts to trample it down or graze upon it.  All the land became covered in vegetation, save for the peaks of the mountains.  These remained crowned with unblemished snow, defying the penetration of life.

After the land had become covered by bush and flowers and trees, the animals came.  With an endless supply of greenery on which to feed they grew large, strong, and numerous, soon filling the continent from the northern shore to southern jungle.  There were still no men to tame them, so they became wild and savage.  Some became so wicked that they were no longer content to feed on the vegetation, but began to hunger for flesh.  So the animals attacked and killed one another in order to satisfy their cravings, and the weakest of them were killed first, leaving only the strongest to rule the land.  In this way they grew ever stronger and ever wilder as each generation passed on only its greatest to the next.

The beasts that walked the land in that day were not like those of today, for then there were no men to tame them.  There were giant cats with fangs as long as a man’s arm, great bears that were as tall as houses when raised on their hind legs, and serpents of such girth that they were as big around as cattle.  Greatest among all the creatures were the dragons.  These were giant reptiles, related to the serpents but possessing both physical strength and intelligence that far surpassed that of their weaker cousins.  Their forelimbs were slender, but strong enough to rip great trees from the ground, and their mighty wings were capable of propelling even these, the largest of all creatures, at tremendous speeds through the air.  When angered, flames would spew forth from their mouths with an intensity that could turn solid rock to ash.

No creature had the strength to scale the mountains except for the dragons, and so they made their homes there where they would not be disturbed.  On the peaks of the mountains they lived, looking down on the world, until they became hungry.  Then they would fly across the land and hunt until their stomachs were full.  They ate whatever beasts they liked best, for none were strong enough to overcome them.  Thus was the land before the coming of man.

The first man came from the land beyond the jungle.  He was tall and slender, moving with a flowing, unbroken grace as if made of the wind.  His only possessions were the simple tunic he wore and the mighty sword strapped to his back.  Despite his height, only half a foot lay between the tip of his blade and the ground at his feet, so great was its size.  Composed of a metal that is today unknown, his sword was strong and heavy, weighing three score and fifteen pounds; yet, he could wield it with one hand as effortlessly as if waving a reed through the air.  He was the father of all warriors, possessing a skill that none of his children would ever rival.

Upon entering the land he saw that it overflowed with all manner of vicious beasts so that it was unsuitable as a place for man to live.  Therefore he removed his sword from his back and began to clear it.  He moved with a speed that could not be escaped and a power that could not be resisted.  For three months he traveled across the plains, slaying the fiercest of the creatures he found, until the strongest of them were no more.  Those creatures that could still be found in the low lands were weak enough and few enough in number that man could safely move into the land and not be completely overcome.

The dragons still remained, for they lived in the mountains and the warrior had not yet climbed their peaks.  The mountains were the last region of the continent he visited, and when he arrived at their base he looked past their steep slopes to where the snow beat mercilessly upon their peaks, and yet he was unafraid.  Defying the strength of nature, he climbed the mountains swiftly, as if his frame was too ethereal for either weight or wind to grasp.  There he found the dragons lying in the open, for the fierce fires that burned within them made them immune to the cold and fearless of attacks.

The first of the dragons to spy the intruder felt no fear, but wondered at how one so small could breach the wall that nature had erected around their domain.  With amusement it watched, waiting for the wind to sweep him away; but when it saw that the wind had no power over him, resentment took seed.  It flung open its mighty jaws, preparing to unleash the fires burning inside its belly, but its head was severed from its neck before the flames could reach its lips.  Seeing their brother fall, the other dragons charged the warrior, but they likewise fell to the power of his sword.  The dragons were touched by fear for the first time.  They quickly scattered, fleeing into the caves that extended deep into the mountains.  But the warrior would not allow his task to remain unfinished and pursued them until he had explored every branch of every tunnel.  Among those terrible beasts were none that could withstand his might.

#

It was already late when Kathryn entered the garden.  She walked about it slowly, taking special delight in the fact that its beauty was serving no one’s eyes but her own.  Under the moonlight the landscape was transformed into a different world from the one that faced the sun of day.  Deep shadows stretched across the ground, highlighting certain features that otherwise would have been obscured in the brightness, while obscuring others that stood out boldly during the day.  The garden did not shout for attention as it did when the sun was overhead, but was content to speak in subdued tones or, in places, to remain silent all together, confident in the inherent worth of its beauty.

A fortnight had passed since she had last seen him.  She hoped desperately that he would come there to see her that night, even though she knew he would be in need of sleep after his mission.  It was a selfish desire, but at the same time she was confident that his need to meet that evening was as great as her own.  No, there could be no selfishness when all their hopes and wants were held in common, for serving her own wishes was also serving his.

It was scarcely audible, but the faint sound of dirt crunching beneath hard-soled boots caused her heart to take a break from beating for a brief moment of joyous ecstasy.  She turned toward the noise and, suddenly becoming very conscious of how she looked, straightened her back so that she was no longer slouching.  She wanted his first glimpse of her to be absolutely perfect, but now that she was thinking about it, she found it difficult to pose herself in a way that seemed natural.  While struggling to find a position that was just right, she suddenly realized that her face had tightened while in solitary contemplation, so she forced it to relax, allowing its features to be molded by the rapture within her.  Once satisfied with the look she had achieved, she dared not move again, and so she waited in absolute stillness for a span lasting a few seconds more than was bearable.

At last he appeared, his face beaming toward hers just as hers was toward his.  Their legs yearned to run toward one another, but she remained still and he continued walking at a steady pace, both of them savoring the moment.  Just knowing that the desire was also there in the other’s heart was enough.

“Hello,” Jorim said softly once he had reached her.

“Hi.”

For a moment they stood there, enjoying one another’s presence, when Kathryn made a slight move toward him.  Jorim knew her intention, for it was the same as his own, and a second later the two were holding each other in a warm embrace.  After this greeting, which both knew was insufficient to express their full feelings but neither was quite sure how to improve upon, they released each other and sat down on a nearby bench.

“So how was your mission?”

“Uneventful.  The larger bandit hordes have all pretty much disappeared.  None of the isolated groups of thieves that are still around would dare attack a military escort.  It seems that our reputation has all but eliminated any need for us.  So how has life back here been treating you?”

“Honestly, I’m tired of it.  When I decided to become a councilor, my dream was to be able to help people, but now it seems like the government is more concerned with preserving the Empire simply for the sake of preserving the Empire--regardless of whether or not anyone is actually benefiting from it.”

Jorim thought for a moment before answering.  “But not everyone in the government is so inwardly focused.  You’re not.”

“I know, but there aren’t enough of us.  Eight years on the council and I haven’t done anything to help the farmers who got me here.  There are only a handful of councilors like me who are willing even to discuss changes, and even if there were more, it wouldn’t matter.  As long as the emperor is in favor of keeping the status quo, there’s nothing we can do.”

“I wish I could help.  Sometimes I guess there are things that are just out of our control, and all we can do is to take care of the things we can.”

Kathryn sat silently thinking for a few minutes.  Seeing that she wanted to say something, Jorim remained silent as well, patiently hoping that she would decide to trust him enough to go ahead and say whatever it was that she apparently wanted to tell him.

“Are you...” she started, hesitating out of fear that this question was an unfair test of his loyalty to her, “...are you opposed to change?”

Sensing the tension in her voice, Jorim considered the question carefully before answering.  “No...not if it’s for the good.”

Kathryn relaxed a little at the familiarity of these words and scolded herself for having doubted him.  “The purpose of the Empire should be to help the people in it, right?”

“Of course.”

“And if it ceased doing that, if it acted no longer as a benefit but a hindrance, it wouldn’t really make sense for it to continue existing, would it?”

The long pause caused Kathryn to fear again.  Her feelings for him had caused her to become too careless and too bold.  Why had she continued to press him so hard?  If he failed this test she would certainly be locked away in some deep prison, perhaps never to know freedom again.  No, if he failed it that would mean she had been basing her joy on an illusion.  The loss of her freedom would be irrelevant then.

“No, I guess it wouldn’t,” he said at last in a slow and thoughtful tone that made it clear that he fully understood the meaning of the question.

“We need your help,” she said with a sudden, desperate intensity.

“Yes, of course, what can I do?”

“People have already been volunteering to fight to bring down the Empire.  If we were to attack now, we might even be able to win, but I don’t want to force our will on the continent by brute force, even though I’m sure we’re right.  You understand what we’re fighting for.  You know that the only person the Empire serves is the emperor.  We need a government that’s controlled by the people.  If you understand that then maybe there are others in the army who would as well.  Could you please find out for me?”

“Certainly.”

“And if we all agree, there won’t be any need to fight!”

“I think there are probably many who would be sympathetic.  But...but what about Jacob?”

“No, you mustn’t mention any of this to him!  He’d never understand, and if he found out, he’d betray us all.”

“But he’s my friend.  He’s risked his life to save mine so many times that I owe it to him.”

“Jacob has a good heart, but he’s far too stubborn.  You can’t convince him with reason.  It’d be best just to leave him out of it until it’s done.  Once the new government is in place, then he’ll be able to understand.”

“I at least have to try.  I promise I’ll be careful.  I won’t tell him anything unless I’m sure he’ll side with us.  Without him, we can probably still gain enough support in the army to succeed, but with him, there’d be nothing that could stop us.  Please let me try.”

“OK.  But be careful.”

#

“Good afternoon!”

As much as he loved Jacob, Jorim still cringed at the brightness of his friend’s voice as it roused him from his slumber.

“Afternoon?  What time is it?” asked Jorim.

“About a quarter of an hour past noon.  Up late last night, eh?”

“Yeah.  I’m not sure why I do that to myself.”

“Oh, I think you are.  She is rather cute, after all.  Anyway, you didn’t miss anything.  We still have almost two hours before we need to head out again.”

“What?  I thought we were in the capital for another week.”

“Well there’s an emergency shipment of supplies going out to one of the southern states this afternoon and they need us to escort it.”

“At times like this I can’t help but wonder how necessary it is for every convoy to have such a large military escort.”

“Yeah, and while we’re at it, we might as well give the drivers a day off too--just point the carts in the right direction and let the horses find their own way.”  Jacob laughed as he continued, “Why not just shut down the entire Empire and see how things get along by themselves for a day?”

Jorim was still not fully awake, and it was tempting not to do anything that would tax his groggy mind.  Still, he could not forget the hours he had lain awake the previous night thinking about his conversation with Kathryn.  Why had he urged her to let him talk to Jacob?  As soon as they had parted, he had been struck by the impossibility of this task he had begged to be allowed to take on.  How could he broach the subject of rebellion with one so fanatically devoted to the Empire?  And yet now an opportunity had been given to him more perfect than any he could have contrived himself.  He dared not waste it.  Trying to maintain the light tone of the conversation, Jorim pressed on.

“Have you ever thought what might happen if we actually did that--shut down the Empire, I mean?”

“No, have you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Why?  That seems awfully morbid.”

“I guess I’m just curious as to how things would be different if none of us were doing what we do.  Are we really making things better?  Even if I fulfill every duty I’m assigned to perfection, is that really the best that I can be doing?  There are so many possibilities out there for the world--how do we know the path that’s been chosen is the right one?  It might be nice to see whether we’d really be worse off if everything for which we had worked were undone.”

“It’s times like this I’m glad I wasn’t blessed with your intelligence, because all it seems to do is allow you to find things to worry about that never would have crossed my mind.  How do you ever sleep at night?”

“I don’t--that’s why you had to wake me up in the middle of the day, remember?  But don’t you ever have doubts about your orders?  Whether they’re really the right thing to be doing?  There must have been times when you questioned your authorities.”

“Not that I can recall.  Some people are assigned to come up with the plans, and others to carry them out.  My job keeps me busy enough without worrying about someone else’s.  If you just learned to trust others to take care of their responsibilities I think that you’d enjoy life a whole lot more.”

At a loss as of how to carry on, Jorim sat in silence for several seconds.  This was much more difficult than he had expected, but he had to give it another go.

“OK,” Jorim said at last, “taking a completely ludicrous example:  what if the emperor suffered some sort of head injury that caused him to go stark mad?  Would you still obey his orders without question then?”

“Of course not.”

“Fine.  But now say his accident happened when he was alone so no one knew about it.  How would you know that he had gone mad unless you stopped to question his actions?”

“Wouldn’t it be obvious?”

“Maybe, but maybe not.  You’d still have to stop and question his actions at some point.  Anyway, that’s just an extreme case--it wouldn’t have to be madness.  I’m only trying to say that everyone is fallible, including the emperor, so it’s only natural that you should question him every once in a while.”

“I have neither the wisdom nor the authority to judge the edicts of the emperor.  After all, it’s his Empire.  Who’s to say what’s right or wrong for it besides him?  To do so would be treason.”

“I guess you’re right,” said Jorim, suppressing a deep sigh.

There was no point in continuing.  The rebellion would have to go forward without him.  The thought of undertaking such an endeavor without the support of the one who had been at his side since the very earliest of his days at the academy was daunting.  At least this separation from his friend would only be temporary.  It would have to be.

“Well, I’ll see you later,” said Jacob, turning to leave.

“Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready to head out with you.”

#

In all the records spanning the entire history of the Yedinay Empire and the first one hundred years of the Republic, there was no mention of any drought as severe as the one that had struck the northern half of the continent that year.  Not a single farmer in that region had produced enough to feed even his own family, leaving those employed in other trades the impossible task of purchasing food from empty markets.  Hundreds had already died from starvation and that number threatened to rise to tens of thousands in the next months.  It was a disaster of such magnitude that it had the potential to dissolve the Republic, reducing it to a collection of nomadic tribes scavenging across the continent for whatever food they could find.

South of the mountains the rain had fallen as usual, yielding a harvest that was just above the average mark.  A number of independent charitable efforts had already begun sending relief northward, but the scale of the emergency was so great that they made little impact.  To all enlightened observers it seemed that any meaningful aid would have to come from a large-scale program organized at the national level.  The council of the Republic, which did in fact contain a handful of enlightened individuals, had already begun to act on this realization and had quickly drafted a bill to collect whatever food could be spared from the southern states and redistribute it amongst the northern ones.

Within two days of the bill’s proposal, a complete plan had already been formulated and was ready to be voted upon, setting a record for the shortest time between conception and vote for any law.  Naturally the proposal was held in high regard by those affected by the drought, but it also enjoyed considerable popularity in the south, which left little suspense over the outcome of the vote.  On the day of the decision itself the mood in the council chamber was one of speed and urgency, with everyone desiring to be done with the formalities as quickly as possible in order to be able to start upon the real work.  It was unimaginable that anyone would be opposed to the measure, so it came as a shock to fifty-two of the councilors when the fifty-third rose to speak at the time appointed for the voicing of dissenting views.  Even more surprising was that it was Horace, who represented the northern state of Glendan.

“First let me say that I am not in disagreement with my fellow councilors about the severity of the crisis facing us or of the need for action.  I am also willing to admit up front that I’m not sure whether I could formulate a better plan than the one that is now awaiting a vote.  I am, nevertheless, still very concerned about this course of action and feel that my concerns must be voiced.

“The source of my uneasiness is a certain historical parallel that I could not help but notice.  A hundred years ago there was another government that ruled this continent.  This was a government based not on the principle of freedom, as is ours, but on the principle of maintaining order through a strong, central authority that tolerated no dissenting opinions.  It abolished the idea of individual property by confiscating whatever it wanted and redistributing it as it saw fit.  The result was that a single man grew rich amidst a nation of the lower class--equality was achieved, but an equality of poverty.

“The plan upon which we are about to vote--the plan for the government to appropriate the goods of the southern states to give to those affected by this terrible tragedy for purely nominal monetary compensation--is certainly the easiest way to solve our current crisis.  What concerns me is that perhaps the easiest way is not the best way.  Maybe it was by following the easiest way that people initially allowed themselves to be enslaved to an emperor who cared only about increasing his own wealth.

“What we must not lose sight of is that everything has a cost, and that before undertaking any endeavor, a prudent man will ask himself whether he is willing to pay that cost.  My goal here is simply to remind everyone here of the cost of this bill.  We are all well aware of the very important benefits--a distribution of food that will allow everyone enough to survive off of.  The cost, however, has remained unnamed up to this point, but I will name it now.  The cost is freedom.

“It might be more dramatic if I said it was a freedom that the founders of this Republic had given their lives to win, but that would not be telling the truth.  The truth of the matter is that the necessity of this freedom was so evident that there was no fight.  Reason simply took over and the Empire dissolved itself.  Now the question before us is whether we are willing to revert to the methods of a government that did not even believe in itself just to keep from going to the trouble of finding a real solution.”

After he had sat down, an opportunity was given for a rebuttal, but no one seemed to think it necessary and the vote was taken immediately.  Horace found some small bit of solace in the fact that his speech was not completely without effect.  The bill passed by a vote of only fifty-one to two.

#

Who were they?  Reu had not believed all the details of the crazed man’s story about a band of mysterious savages invading from the south, but now that he saw them for himself he could see that they were as unreal as they had been described.  They were humanoid in shape, and may perhaps have indeed been fully human, but it would have been easier to believe that they were some sort of beasts or spirits from another world.  What was it that he found so disturbing?  The intricate patterns of black painted on their bodies confused the eye, hiding their outlines and causing them to melt into a single cloud of darkness--but that was not it.  Perhaps it was the homogeneity of their motion.  Their legs all pounded out an identical rhythm, with the collective result sounding not like a stampede but rather the rapid, well-measured beats of a drum.  No, it was not that either.  It was their eyes.  They never turned to the side to look at one another, but always remained focused on what was ahead--not on what was directly ahead, for it seemed to Reu that they were scarcely aware of him and the nineteen other soldiers riding toward them, but on some far off goal that lay well beyond the horizon.

During the long months of uneventful patrols in the south, Reu had begun to think that the council had been mistaken in reinstating the army.  If any of those states had been preparing to revolt in retaliation for the confiscation of goods to aid the drought-stricken north, they had yet to take any visible action.  His superiors had been obsessed with the question of whether or not there were hidden stores of arms being built up or guerrilla forces training in secret, but now that was all irrelevant.  The army of the Republic had a foe, and although their strengths had yet to be tested against one another, already Reu doubted whether his men stood a chance.

When they had drawn close enough, Reu gave the command for his unit to stop and called out toward the savages.  There was no response.  He waited for the distance between them to close a little bit more before trying again, but still there was no indication that they had heard him.  This lack of response seemed strangely natural to Reu, for surely it was impossible for them to be affected by anything from his world.  He was somehow certain that if he ordered his men simply to stand their ground and ignore the invaders that they would continue running toward their secret destination without even slowing to consider them.  However, now that he had seen them, now that he knew that the lone rider they had encountered had been telling the truth, he had to remember the report of what they had done to that village.  Either he had to convince them to stop or stop them by force.

Reu ordered his men to form two rows and ready their rifles, all the while noticing that their actions still had no effect on the creatures running toward them.  He told himself they were simple brutes who did not react because they did not realize what they were facing.  A bullet through the chest would prove to them that they belonged to this world and could not go on ignoring its laws.  Once the firing started they would have to realize the inferiority of their sticks and yield.  His mind was convinced of these facts, but another part of him deeper down knew he was lying to himself.

“Fire!”

Reu, along with the others in the front line, fired as he called out and then began furiously reloading.  Within seconds after the second line of men had discharged their weapons, the first set of rifles had been reloaded and was firing again.  So they kept up a nearly continuous barrage for five more cycles until Reu gave the command to stop.  They should have been shocked at the sight of the savages as they continued their approach completely unaffected by the attack, but none of them were.

“Draw your swords.  We’ll engage them hand to hand!” cried Reu.

He pulled his blade from its sheath and charged ahead, not looking to see whether anyone followed.  His only thought now was to prove to himself that they were not what he felt certain they were.  They were either a part of this world or they were not.  If they could run across its ground, if they could destroy its villages and kill its people, then they must also succumb to the same regulations that bound the rest of its inhabitants.  If they did not, though, how could he force them to do so?

Even as his horse galloped right up to the nearest of them and he raised his sword in preparation to strike, the savage did not flinch.  He forced himself to swing with all the power he could muster, resisting the fear that he would lose his balance and fall from his steed as his blade passed clean through an ethereal foe.  Three feet away, two, one, six inches, and finally the savage reacted with a speed that Reu’s eyes could scarcely follow.  A quick step to the side and a swing of the arms brought the heavy staff hard into Reu’s back, throwing him from his horse.

The jolt of the ground slamming into his chest caused his entire body to seize up with pain.  He forced himself over onto his back only to find that his assailant had already moved on.  The rest of his men had engaged the enemy as best as they could, but were likewise finding them too elusive.  It was now apparent that it had not been from an inability to perceive or understand that the savages had shown such complacency, but from an absolute confidence in their abilities.  Watching them was like watching a man squashing some pesky ant that had the foolish conceit to attempt to bite him.  He did not possess the courage to stand, and even fully healed he knew he would not possess the strength to help his men.  He could only hope that each of the others would be considered insignificant enough to be abandoned as quickly as he had been.

A bare foot stepping within six inches of his head reminded him that his own safety was still far from assured.  He told himself he should roll back up onto his feet so he could defend himself, but his body did not move.  What good would it do?  Powerless, he closed his eyes and continued lying on his back--at least the sight of these savages was one thing from which he could save himself.  However, each footstep, each crack of a staff hitting a body, each thud of one of his men hitting the ground caused him to wince.  He could not just listen to the battle being fought around him.  In a single move he rolled onto his knees so that he was facing the onslaught and lunged at the nearest painted body he saw.  He must have taken his opponent by surprise, because his sword had actually scratched his target’s flesh before he darted around Reu and cracked him on the back of the head with his staff.

“Sir, wake up.”

As Reu’s mind returned from the darkness, he struggled to remember where he was.  He had to move.  He had to protect himself.

“Sir, calm down.  They’re gone.”

“Gone...” slowly Reu’s memory returned.  “How are the others?”

“There’s five who are in a bad way--I’m not sure whether they’ll make it.  As for the rest, nothing too serious, although a few will be out of commission for a while.”

“And what about...them?”

“They all left unharmed.  I’m not sure any of us managed to land even a single blow.”

“You have to ride to the capital as quickly as you can and warn them.”

“Right sir, but what about the rest of you?”

“There’s a fort not far off.  Those of us who are able will ride there and get help.  We need to try to at least slow them down.”

#

Drops of water from the previous weeks’ rains still clung to the leaves, but the clouds had all fled the sky.  Despite the heat and humidity, which were year-round denizens of the jungle, Dinah could not help but be filled with happiness by the bright sunlight that stabbed through the trees.  The orange, yellow, and red fruits sparkled within thin shrouds of moisture, their flesh swelling with the nourishment that had recently fallen from above.  Their luscious appearance tempted her to frequently sample the goods she was picking in order to reassure herself that they were of sufficient quality.  So far she had yet to find any that failed the test, but this did not deter her from her diligence.

She ducked her head as one of her fellow villagers walked by so that he would not see her chewing.  It had been picked at just the right moment--sweet, but not yet mushy.  She would have to make sure she brought some to Jacob when she returned.  He was much more pleasant to be around now that he had started talking, but still she wished he would be more open about what had put him into such a foul mood.  What sort of tragedy could drive a man into such a state?

“Hey, you!” called out one of her companions in a playful tone.  “You picking any fruit or are you just going to watch the rest of us do all the work?”

“I was just trying to figure out the best way to climb that tree.  I think I can make it to that big bunch up there.”

“Well be careful,” he said and then disappeared back into the thick undergrowth.

Dinah looked at the tree she had pointed to for the first time and realized that it would not be an easy climb.  There was a possibility that he would come back, though, and she did not want to make a liar of herself.  Besides, it was a good excuse to find a bit of excitement.  She looped the strap of her basket over her head and under one arm before starting her search for a good foothold.  There were no branches for the lowest thirty feet, but the bark of this type of tree ringed the trunk in overlapping scales, providing ample places for one to grab hold.  She began climbing slowly upward, grasping the tree both with her hands and her bare feet, all the time being careful to notice neither the distance she had traveled nor the distance left before her.  Within a few minutes she had seated herself on the lowest branch and decided to take a quick rest before beginning to pick the fruit for which she had come.

Her perch afforded her a good view of the ground below.  Although they were partially obscured by the brush, she could see all five of the other villagers who had come along on the expedition.  They were busy gathering fruit from the lower-growing trees that needed no climbing.  How fortunate she was to be able to enjoy such a day as this outdoors doing pleasant work.  She had just about recovered from her climb and was preparing to resume that work when a movement from below caught her eye.  All she could make out through the closely packed leaves was that it was big and that it was moving quickly.  She gasped first as she noticed that there were six more of them and then again as she realized that they were converging on her friends.

“Look out!” she cried.  “Run!” she added as the others looked up at her dumbfounded.

The second command was obeyed and they all began moving as quickly as they could through the difficult terrain.  Unfortunately, whatever they were that pursued them, they did not seem as hindered by the undergrowth and were gaining quickly.  Her friends had been separated from one another at the time she had called out, and now they ran aimlessly, unable to see their pursuers.  With horror she watched as a dark humanoid figure leaped out and grabbed one of them from behind.  The shrill scream that pierced the damp air caused the other villagers to turn for a fraction of a second, but they were not able to see anything.  The dark shape had already dragged its victim back into the cover of the thick foliage.  Now they at least had a direction from which to run away, but this knowledge benefited them but little.  Helplessly, Dinah watched the inevitable doom that they could not see themselves consume them one by one.

After the echoes from the last of these encounters had faded, the only sounds Dinah could hear were the deep heaves of her own breathing.  Numb with disbelief, she remained seated in her tree, oblivious to the passage of time and ignoring the fact that eventually she would have to climb down.  Once her breathing had returned to normal she could once more hear the chirping of insects that continuously filled the jungle.  She peered over cautiously toward the ground, searching for some sign of her friends, but could see nothing.  The beautiful, sunny day before her bore no scars from the horrors that had just occurred, helping her at last to find the courage to shimmy back down the tree.  As soon as her feet touched the ground she began running back toward the village as quickly as she could.

#

After their encounter with the savages, their band of twenty had been reduced to only eight--one sent north to report of their encounter, five in critical condition, two more with too many broken bones to ride, and four left to watch over them until help could be brought back.  Fortunately the engagement had taken place not too far from one of the Republic’s military outposts, and they were able to make it there within a half hour.

“We need a cart!”  Reu called out as soon as they had entered the fort to whoever might be around to listen.

Three soldiers came running up to meet them.

“What’s the matter?” asked one of them.

“We were attacked and I had to leave behind some men who were too injured to be safely moved.”

The man who had spoken turned to one of his companions and said, “Go fetch a cart as well as some men to escort it.”  As the second man ran off, the first turned back to Reu and asked, “So what happened?  Was it bandits?”

“No.  I’m not really sure who they were, but they weren’t bandits.  They were savages, but strange, like nothing I’d ever seen before.  About a hundred of them.  We came across a man crazy with fear who told us they had attacked his village.  He seemed to think that they had come from the jungle, and honestly, I can’t think of any place else that could produce such people.  They were armed only with staves, but they were so strong and fast that they completely overpowered us.  We weren’t able to hit a single one of them.”

“If they came from the jungle, then what were they doing so far north?  Do you have any idea what they were after?”

“No, none.  They just seemed very intent on running north.  They barely even slowed down to deal with us.”

At this point they were interrupted by two men driving up the requested cart.  Five others on horseback accompanied them.

“If some of you would like to come with us and show us where to go, we can head out,” said one of the drivers.

Reu selected the two healthiest of his men to join them.  They were soon mounted and the party set out to retrieve the injured soldiers.

“What do you suggest we do now?” asked the first man, continuing his conversation with Reu.

“They’ve already destroyed at least one village.  We need to gather as many men as you can spare and try to stop them.”

“But what good will that do?” interjected one of Reu’s remaining men.  “You saw for yourself that they were inhuman.  We can’t hurt them.”

“That’s right,” added another.  “Everyone’s heard the rumors about what sort of demons live in the jungle.”

“Everyone’s heard those rumors because everyone was told the same stories when they were little kids,” snapped back Reu.  “Maybe they were demons, but we can’t be making decisions based on superstitions.  The whacks I took made them seem real enough to me, so until we have solid reasons to believe otherwise, we have to operate under the assumption that they’re physical beings no different from us.  Clearly they were faster and stronger, but by the looks of them, intelligence didn’t seem to be one of their virtues.  We’ve got reason on our side, and we don’t want to abandon that advantage by taking some children’s stories too seriously.”

“We have a hundred and fifty men stationed here,” said the man from the fort.  “Things have been pretty quiet recently, so I think we could leave as few as forty behind.  The rest are yours.”

“Thanks.  I think there are still ten of my men who are able to fight.  If we take a hundred of yours as well, we should have a good chance.  They may be quick, but they won’t be able to avoid such a barrage as we’ll be sending at them.”

#

With the wildest and fiercest of the beasts removed from the continent, it was now safe for men to live there.  So they came and tamed the land--cultivating the fields to grow whatever crops they desired and domesticating herds of beasts to do their labor and be slaughtered for their meat.  In those days the land produced abundantly for them.  Everyone could eat until satisfied without having to rob his neighbor.  There was no want, so there were no quarrels, so there was no need for judges to rule over them.  Every man was his own lord.

Many years passed uncounted, for there was nothing by which to reckon them.  No one could say “five years from that war,” or “twenty years from the great drought,” or even “this year is better than the last,” for there were no disasters of any kind and each year was just as richly blessed as the previous one.  Time is a measure of change, and then there was no change, but only continuous peace and happiness.

Then a darkness came from the south.  A mighty dragon rose up from the jungle and began destroying all that grew and had life.  It was a beast of such great size and strength that even among those dragons that had ruled in the long-forgotten past, it would have been considered without equal.  Its hunger for flesh could not be satiated, and what it did not devour it burned up in flames.  Many people were killed, and those that were not hid themselves in caves or holes that they dug into the ground with their own hands.

For many years the dragon did as it desired, roaming the length and breadth of the continent and destroying all that had life in it.  Wherever it went the land was transformed into a barren waste, void of any of the life-sustaining nourishments required by man.  At length the dragon grew weary of that country, for nothing of value remained, and it disappeared back into the jungle.  Then the men returned from their hiding places, but they found that the land was no longer good to live on.  They took what seed had been stored away and protected from the dragon and began to replant their fields.  However, the ground had become hard and it no longer yielded easily to the farmers’ plows.  Once the seeds had been planted and the growing season came, the crops did not grow as tall or as numerous as they had in the years before the devastation.  There was no longer enough for each man to eat until he was filled.

Those who were strongest began taking the best of the land for themselves.  Relatives would join with them to share in the abundance of their wealth and to gain protection from those who might in turn try to take their land.  Soon the continent had become fractured into a myriad of tiny nations.  The wealthiest were covered with storehouses full of rotting food, while the poorest had only empty tables.  Those who had not would wage war against those who had, robbing from them to fill their stomachs.  Then the bereft would turn to another and recover their losses from the innocent.  So it was that the land was in perpetual war.

A generation passed, and then those who could remember the time of peace were no more.  To those who were left, poverty and fighting were all they knew.  The poor gladly subjected themselves to the rich, for they had learned from their parents that this was the way to survive.  So time passed, and gradually the land grew richer, but never too rich.  Every few generations the dragon would return and wreak a new devastation upon the continent.  Each time the people recovered and they were content.  No one mourned the loss of the age of peace, for it had been forgotten.

#

Although he had ridden four days straight with little rest and with his horse failing beneath him, Reu did not feel any weariness as he at last arrived at the capital.  He felt only the urgent need to find his superiors as quickly as possible and report on what had just taken place.  As soon as he had dismounted he began sprinting towards the generals’ chambers, but just as he arrived he was stopped by a familiar face.  It was the soldier he had dispatched a day ahead of himself after their first encounter with the savages.

“Reu!” he cried out in surprise.  “How did you get back here so quickly?  I only just arrived this morning myself.”

“I have seen more of the savages’ power than you and, thus, was driven by a greater terror.  I could not afford myself any more rest than absolutely necessary.  Are the generals in?”

“Yes, I just finished speaking with them.  They’re going to order messengers to travel to all the southern forts and have them send out patrols to hunt down the savages.”

“No, we’ll have to stop them.  I led over a hundred men against them and they disposed of us just as easily as they had of the twenty with which we attacked them before.  If each fort empties itself and confronts them individually, they’ll each be wiped out and the entire army will be lost.  I don’t know what hope we have against them, but we’ll need to think of some other strategy if we’re to have any chance.”

#

This was the only day of the year that one could look upon the main street of the capital during the middle of the afternoon and find it empty.  Ropes had been stretched along either side, reinforced by armed soldiers every twenty feet to ensure that it remained clear.  Kathryn looked on eagerly, waiting for the start of the parade commemorating the anniversary of the founding of the Empire.  She was watching from the comfort of the balcony that had been set aside for the members of the council.  Her anticipation was as great as that of any of the people crowding against the taut ropes below, but for much different reasons.  They longed for the spectacle of performers and soldiers on their fine horse, but she knew about a finale that would outshine not only those, but every other spectacle in the history of the Empire.

A long trumpet blast announced the entrance of the emperor, who would be seating himself in the balcony directly above the one where the council was seated.  He made a short speech that Kathryn could not make out due to the acoustical arrangement, but she doubted anything was said that would have interested her.  She, like the masses below who were mostly too far away to hear anyway, was only waiting for him to finish so that the real festivities could begin.

The first to come down the street were the bareback riders, balancing themselves in various imaginative poses as their horses galloped at full speed beneath them.  The audience marveled equally as much at the bright ribbons adorning the manes and tales of the exquisite steeds as at the athleticism of their riders.  Behind them walked men juggling an assortment of objects ranging from valuable vases to knives to flaming torches.  Some of them increased the difficulty of their feats by balancing chairs or wooden poles on their chins as they performed.  Next were actors with painted faces depicting activities from everyday life without the aid of either props or speech.  These particularly pleased the crowds, for they would often run over to the sides of the street and interact with those fortunate enough to have found spots right along the ropes.

Finally the section for which Kathryn had been waiting arrived--the parade of soldiers.  They were marching in neat rows, forming a carpet of dark green interspersed with crimson dots.  Those dots were the elites who were each marching at the head of the division under their command.  That long orderly procession, along with those soldiers who had been relegated to the duty of keeping the people off the main street, comprised nearly ninety percent of the Imperial army.  On no other day during the year was such a large concentration of the army located in the capital.  That was why it had to be today.  There would be no counter revolt, no pockets of hold-outs waging a guerilla war against the new government.  Everything would be completed that day, and hopefully without bloodshed.

Thanks to Jorim’s efforts, Kathryn had no doubt that they would be successful.  All of the division commanders had agreed to aid the rebellion, and they in turn had won over the individual members of their divisions.  When the time came, they would all be in agreement and there would be no battle--all of them except one man and however many loyal subordinates he could convince to join him.  As she had expected, Jorim had been unable to convince Jacob of the necessity of overthrowing the Imperial government.  He was without argument the most skilled fighter in the army, but even so, he would be powerless to stop it.  In time he would see for himself the improvements that would be made and he would come to be as devoted to the Republic as he had been to the Empire.

The rows of soldiers had now reached the point where the middle of their ranks was in line with the balcony where the government officials were seated.  A single voice at the head of the procession called out and they came to an abrupt stop.  This unexpected break in the parade caused the people suddenly to become silent in anticipation of something wonderful.  Kathryn arose and walked slowly to the edge of the balcony.

“Citizens of the Empire,” she cried out as loudly as she could.  She paused for a moment to allow the soldiers stationed along the edges of the street to repeat her words so that those standing farther away would be able to hear.  Then she continued her speech, taking similar breaks after every few words.  “This Empire has operated under the pretense of serving you, but that is not what it has done.  It has only served the whims of one man--the emperor.  The reason is that you have no freedom--no freedom to own property, no freedom to choose the person who rules over you.  How can your desires be heard and met if you have no freedom?  The Empire has failed in its obligations to you, and therefore the Empire is hereby dissolved.  In its place will be a republic where the leaders will be guaranteed to serve your needs because they will be answerable to you.  From this moment on, this continent will be ruled by your government!”

As she finished this brief speech an enthusiastic cheer arose first from the soldier and then from the crowds around them.  Their new life had begun.

#

Entering the capital from the south, one had to pass through a gate that had been set on its hinges before the founding of the Empire.  Although worn from the weather of over six hundred years, the pine tree and sun that had been etched into it as a symbol of its original owner could still be seen.  During a time when individual states had struggled against one another for power, they had served to protect the house of Yedinay from invaders.  The stone walls to which they were attached were ten feet thick and thirty feet tall, running the entire width of the narrow half-mile gap in the mountains.  On the northern edge of the city stood an identical set of gates set into a wall of equal stoutness.

As formidable as these man-made structures were, they were never considered to be as secure as the barriers that had been provided by nature to protect the eastern and western borders of the city.  The military strategists were agreed that any attempt to move an army through those mountains could only meet with disastrous results.  The terrain was simply too treacherous to move an army through without sustaining crippling loses.  Yet it was along those borders that the entire army of the Republic had been waiting in anxious fear for the past three days.

The fact that the savages were headed toward the capital, whether as their final destination or merely as a means of crossing into the northern half of the continent, had quickly become evident.  It had also been clear that if they were to defeat them, it would take all the military resources the Republic possessed.  Therefore, they had gathered the entire army before the southern gate in an attempt to bring the invasion to a decisive end.  If it was their lot to fail, then they would fail knowing that there was nothing else they could have given.

They had been correct in hoping that the firepower of the entire army would be sufficient to repel the savages, but they had been wrong in their estimation of their enemy’s single-mindedness.  As soon as the first volley was in the air, the invaders had given up their relentless march and scattered, fleeing into the mountains before any casualties could be inflicted.  Then all those soldiers who had been preparing themselves for that single intense battle of greater consequence than any that had ever been fought were forced to wait once more.

As they waited they were not left without several important questions to ponder.  The most immediate was how long would they have to sit there before they could safely relax their guard and return to life as usual.  Conventional wisdom dictated that the poorly clothed savages would be fortunate to survive even a single day in the mountains, but the reports of their previous exploits had convinced everyone that conventional wisdom did not apply to them.  Some felt that it would almost be worse if they did die up there, for then the Republic would be forced to keep up its vigil indefinitely, never being able to dispel fully the nagging fear of imminent doom.

The two questions that had been on the minds of everyone since news of the invasion had first begun to spread were “Who are they?” and “What is their purpose?”  The less educated citizens would answer the first by pointing to the legends they had been taught as children.  However, those stories had become so confused and self-contradictory over their multi-century lifetimes that even to those who believed in their validity they provided no useful information.  The second question seemed much easier to answer.  Although no one could offer any suggestions as to why, it was evident that they had come to destroy.

It was this thought that kept the soldiers from yielding to their fears and abandoning their posts.  The Republic had been an experiment, overturning the “rule by tradition” philosophy of the Empire and replacing it with a government that was ruled by reason.  For the past century that experiment had been highly successful, achieving a more equitable distribution of wealth and happiness than had ever been seen before.  Now all that was threatened by the mindless destruction of savages, and that was something that every soldier there was willing to sacrifice his own life to prevent.

These were the thoughts of the men standing watch on that third night, straining to make out any signs of motion in the darkness.  The full moon aided their efforts, but patches of clouds would periodically drift across it, plunging them into nervous darkness.  It was just after one such period of blindness that a cry spread across the city: “They’re coming from the east!”

#

“This tastes awful!  What is it?”

“It’s medicine, dad.  It may not be the most pleasant stuff to drink, but it’ll make you feel better.”

The old man took a few more hesitant sips in an attempt to gain sympathy for his case before continuing.  “Why don’t you just draw me some water from the well?  A few cupfuls of that stuff and I’d be out of this bed in no time.  It’d certainly taste a lot better too.”

“Dad, you know no one drinks from that well any more--it’s tainted.”

“My grandfather dug that well, and it was with water from that well that he nursed his son--my father--back from a fever that should have by all rights killed him.  Everyone in the village knows it’s healed dozens of people since, so don’t you be telling me it’s tainted!”

“All those cases were either coincidences or simply made up.  More people have gotten sick from drinking that water than have ever been healed by it.”

“I used to drink from that well all the time when I was a boy, and it always made me feel unnaturally good inside, like it was full of magic.  I’m sure that’s the reason I’ve lived as long as I have.  Look at how scrawny you are!  It wouldn’t hurt you to take a few swigs from it yourself.”

“Dad, you have to believe me when I say that water is poisonous.  In small doses it numbs your body, taking away any pain you might have and making you feel good.  But over time it accumulates and, if you drink enough of it, eventually becomes lethal.”

“This village was built around that well.  The whole reason it exists is because of the healing powers of those waters.  How can you possibly question that?”

A slight tremor in his voice indicated that the man was beginning to lose patience with his son.  Rather than backing off, the latter took offense at this change in tone and decided to strike back.

“That’s the only reason that well hasn’t been torn down like it should have been years ago.”  He was nearly yelling as he continued, “It’s because of people like you who refuse to see what’s so obvious to everyone else that we can’t be rid of it.”

His father lowered his eyes and replied meekly, “I’m sorry, son.”

He began sipping at his medicine again, causing the son suddenly to feel ashamed for allowing himself to become so angry at the man who had shown him so much love throughout his life.

“No, don’t be sorry dad.  I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.  It’s just that I want you to understand that I’m doing what’s best for you and that I want you to get better.”

“I know son.  Now why don’t you let me get some sleep?  That’s probably the best thing for me at this point.”

“You’re right.  Good night.”

He respected his son for all that he had done with his life, but the young man was still very much lacking in wisdom.  He refused to accept that there were things beyond his understanding, causing him to blindly reject anything he could not reason through for himself.  It was impossible to convince someone so stubborn, so his father had decided it would be easier to feign submission.  In another couple of hours his son would go to sleep.  Until then, he would just have to lie there and wait.

His legs felt surprisingly weak as he swung them around to the floor for the first time in nearly a month.  Before he had transferred his entire weight to them, they gave out, causing him to crash to the ground.  A brief attempt to rise told him that it would be futile.  He would have to crawl.  Although much slower than walking, going along on his hands and knees allowed him to move more quietly, aiding in his efforts not to wake his son.  Once outside, it also made it easier to negotiate the uneven streets in the darkness without stumbling.  Still, the hard stones wore on his aged knees and by the time he reached his destination, they had been rubbed raw to the point of bleeding.  The pain would soon go away, he told himself.

Grabbing onto the side of the well, he pulled himself up to the crank that lowered the bucket into the water below.  Frantically he began turning it, desperate to taste those healing waters again.  It went down easily, but as he tried turning it in the opposite direction to draw it up again, it would not move.  A flash of despair went through him, quickly followed by a surge of anger.  The facts were that the full bucket was simply too heavy for his tired muscles to raise.  He did not care about the facts.  He threw all his weight against the crank, but still it refused to move.  Again he tried it and then again.  On the third attempt the crank gave a little.  He continued to push against it, and it began turning more easily.  A half hour later he was staring at the full bucket dangling in front of him, his entire body shaking uncontrollably from a mixture of ecstasy and fatigue.

Such was the trembling of his hands that he spilled most of the water on himself as he lifted the bucket to his mouth.  The magical liquid felt hot going down his throat, warming him from within as his damp clothes chilled him from without.  His strength seemed instantly to return at a level he had not known for decades.  As if so many years of weakness had left his body unable to contain so much energy, he began running jubilantly around the fountain, leaping into the air as he went.  Then his stomach convulsed violently and he felt his newfound power suddenly drain away.

The next thing he was aware of was waking up in his bed with his son leaning over him.  There was none of the sternness in his eyes that had been present during their last conversation.  Instead he was gazing at his father with an expression of deep concern and even remorse.

“Father, how are you feeling?”

“It was wonderful!” he started, speaking very rapidly.  “It was even more fantastic than I had remembered!  I haven’t felt so strong and full of life in years--I was actually leaping for joy.  You should’ve seen me.  It was...”

“Shh, father, it’s all right.  Please calm down.  Look, you can’t go off on your own like that.  It’s dangerous.”

“Nonsense.  What sort of danger could I run into in this little village?”

“I found you passed out lying in the street this morning.  You were so cold...I was frightened when I saw you...”

Seeing the genuine worry in his son’s face, he tried to console him, “If it’ll make you feel better, I promise I’ll stay right here.  But you must promise to fetch me some of that water every day.  You can’t doubt its healing power now.”

“Fine, of course.  I’ll bring you whatever you want.  Just please don’t go off like that in the middle of the night again.”

After his son had left, the old man laughed silently at him.  How foolish he was to be so worried, but at least it showed he had compassion.  It was better to have a son who lacked wisdom than one who lacked love.  Besides, given that he would soon be completely healed, he had no excuse to feel anything but happy.  A few minutes later he drifted off into a very contented sleep.

The next day his happiness quickly evaporated when his son brought him his first dose of water that had supposedly come from the well.  He could tell from the taste that it was just ordinary water.  So his son thought he was too simple-minded to notice the ruse, or even to be able to discuss the matter intelligently with him.  Fine.  If his son would use deceit, then so would he.  He would not let on that he knew, but would simply continue visiting the well in secret.  He would not pass out again.  That had simply been from too much excitement--certainly nothing to do with the water being tainted or any such nonsense.  So he lay there waiting for darkness to return.

When he tried rising, he realized that he was much weaker than he had been the last time he had attempted this journey.  In fact, he was unable even to sit up in his bed.  Frustrated by his immobility he continued struggling for several minutes before at last having to console himself with the thought that waiting another night would not hurt him.  It turned out to be three more nights before he was once more strong enough to roll out of his bed and crawl out into the streets.  The skin on his knees had yet to heal fully, and they began bleeding again almost as soon as they touched the coarse stones of the streets.  He did not think about how the trail he was leaving might give away his subterfuge, but focused only on returning to the well.

It was so dark that he did not notice anything was wrong until he was right on top of it.  He was in the right place--he was sure of it--but there was no well.  He had underestimated the level of his son’s deceit.  His naivety had not been so great as to trust his father to do as he had promised, but instead he must have had the well torn down and filled in.  Sobbing uncontrollably, he began tearing at the ground beneath him with his fingers.  He would not let his only source of hope be lost so easily.  Even if the skin were worn completely from his hands, he would not stop digging until he had reached that precious water.

#

            Frantically Jorim forced his way through the crowd.  They were all celebrating the ease of their victory--a rebellion won without a fight--but he would not be able to join them until he had found Jacob.  He had passed on the honor of leading the division that was in charge of securing the emperor to his next in command in order to track down his friend.  If only he had been willing to listen before.  Maybe he realized it now.  Maybe seeing how everyone else was in agreement would convince him at least to consider their position.  It grieved him to think of the pain Jacob must be in now, and scared him to think of what that might make him do.

            At least the crowds had kept behind the ropes and not tried to storm the palace.  Most of them probably did not even understand what had happened.  Still, there were enough green-robed bodies crammed into the street to make it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.  How would he ever be able to pick him out?  No, it was likely that he would be very easy to find.  This thought caused him to press even harder in the direction where he knew Jacob’s division had been positioned.

            The wall of people suddenly broke away before him and he found himself standing at the edge of a roughly circular clearing.  Scattered around the edges were the remains of a brief struggle--isolated groups of soldiers binding the hands of other soldiers whom they had pinned to the ground.  At the center, however, was a mass of people that still swarmed violently with motion.  Jorim walked closer and saw that they were all attacking a single man clothed in red, assaulting him with their pole-axes as he struck them down with his.  Each man who fell was quickly replaced by two fresh attackers, but the man in the center of it all showed no signs of tiring.  He seemed determined to defeat every other soldier in the Empire if that was what was required of him.

            “Jacob,” Jorim called out to him.

            The man appeared to stop, fixing his gaze on Jorim and yet still managing to parry the blows that were coming at him from every direction.  With slow, deliberate steps Jacob began walking toward him, holding his body erect and steady.  Only his arms seemed to be moving as they deftly maneuvered his weapon to clear the path in front of him.  His blows were delivered with tremendous speed, but also with such grace that they seemed to flow effortlessly from him--as if it required no more effort to repel these assailants than it did to breathe.  Once he had freed himself from the cluster of soldiers he stopped about six feet away from Jorim, regarding him calmly.

            Jorim knew that he could not defeat Jacob in one on one combat, but nevertheless reached around with one hand to grip the pole-axe strapped to his back in case he would need to draw it.  The blank stare devoid of either feeling or thought that was locked on him caused him to tremble.  It was the look of a man who was beyond reason.

            A sudden move by Jacob caused Jorim to draw his weapon rapidly and take a step back.  He readied himself to fend off a ferocious barrage, but saw that Jacob was standing as still as he had been before.  The motion that had so startled Jorim had only been his friend letting his pole-axe fall to the ground.  Jacob hung his head and turned around.  As he began walking away, the other soldiers backed out of his path, perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of shock, or perhaps out of respect.

            “Jorim sir,” said one of the men, “should we stop him?”

            “No, let him go.  He can’t hurt us now.”