The Children of Jacob Part 4/10

Book II

  

          It was too hot.  He had thought being stationed at the southernmost border of the Empire would be a good thing--little work and nice weather.  Unfortunately, he had underestimated exactly how little happened in this remote region.  Most days he was left with nothing to do but contemplate how it was far too hot and humid to be comfortable.  The jungle might have at least provided a break from the monotony of the gently rolling hills, but a very tall wall with no gates blocked it from his view.  It was an impressive structure, but not terribly interesting and completely useless.  Why did they need a wall to guard an uninhabited border, and why did they need so many soldiers to stand watch over it?

            “Hey there,” came a friendly voice.  “How’s it going?”

            “Only eleven more weeks before we get to leave this place.”

            “Yeah, I’m kind of shaken up over leaving too.  That first week just flew by.”

            “Why are we here?”

            “Because this is where we were told to be.  And if you try looking for any more explanation than that, you’ll drive yourself mad.”

            “I kind of figured that was inevitable here anyway.”

            “You’re probably right.  We’ve already lost one...speaking of which...”

            The two soldiers turned to face a third who has now approaching them.  His eyes were wide and unfocused, his cheeks and chin covered with at least four days’ growth, and his mouth moved in silent conversation with an unseen listener.  His feet were shuffling unsteadily beneath him, causing him to stumble from one side to the other as his net motion brought him gradually closer.  The two men continued to watch him, being careful not to make eye contact in hopes that he would walk by without stopping.

            “Have you seen them?” he asked desperately when he was a few feet away.

            “Seen what?”

            “The monkeys.  They’re trying to attack us.”

            “No, there aren’t any monkeys here.  I think we’re safe.”

            “Actually, I did hear some funny scurrying on the other side of the wall a few minutes ago.  Maybe that was them.”

            As soon as these words were spoken, his companion sent a stiff elbow into his ribs and added in a very insistent tone, “No, I’m sure it was just the wind.  I don’t even think there are any monkeys in this part of the jungle.”

            The disheveled man replied, “No, they’re there.  I’ve seen them.  We have to prepare for them immediately.  If we don’t hurry, they’ll destroy us all!”

            “And what exactly are they planning?  Are they going to toss bananas over the wall at us until we surrender?”  This comment drew an even stiffer elbow.

            “They’re coming, and it will be terrible for all of us when they do.  We must prepare.”

            “Look, why don’t we split up so we can warn more people?”

            “Yes, yes, we must warn them.  I must go.”

            He began walking away, and as soon as he was out of earshot, the one man turned to his companion and asked, “Why do you need to aggravate things like that?  If you could just ignore him and let him be, he wouldn’t be so bad.”

            “He won’t let us ignore him, and as long as he insists on foisting his hallucinations onto us, I don’t see the harm in having a little fun.  Maybe he’ll realize how ridiculous he’s being and give it up.  This place is unbearable enough as it is without some crazy guy constantly pestering us.”

#

            His unit had only been stationed there for two days, but already he was confident that he would enjoy the next three months.  He had grown up in one of the southern states, so his previous assignments, which had all taken place in the far north, had been intolerably cold.  Down here in the southern extremity of the Empire he felt like he was home once more.  Many of his companions complained about the heat, but what they failed to appreciate was that they were so far away from any fighting that there was no reason to do anything.  By the time their tour here was over, he was certain that they would have all grown to appreciate the slower lifestyle that nature forced upon those in the south.

            He had just finished his shift of patrol and was walking along the wall when he saw something that took him by surprise.  There was a little brown monkey crouched by the wall about twenty feet ahead of him.  He had been told that the animals of the jungle were scared of humans and that they never came near their settlements.  Certainly he had not been expecting to see anything so bold as to have actually climbed over into their camp.  He crept toward it slowly, being careful to make as little noise as possible.  Nevertheless, after he had taken only a few steps, the monkey saw him and quickly scurried up and over the wall.

            Running over to where the creature had been, he was suddenly overcome by a strange desire to follow it.  He inspected the stonework and decided that it might have sufficient hand holds for him to actually do it.  The first five feet went quickly, giving him the confidence to continue on.  After another five feet the foolishness of what he was doing suddenly occurred to him causing his pace to slow, but he forced himself to keep climbing.  Eventually he reached the top, thirty feet above the ground, and paused both to admire his accomplishment and to catch his breath.

            The descent began much more slowly than the climb, but he sped the journey up by letting himself fall the last ten feet.  When he landed, he turned around and stared into the darkness of the jungle.  The wall possessed neither watchtowers nor windows, so this was the first time he had seen it.  Everyone had questioned the wisdom of building such a large wall to cut the jungle off from the Empire, but now that he saw it for himself, it somehow made sense.  There was a palpable presence emanating from it that needed to be kept out.

            Suddenly he was struck by the strange thought that the soft, fragile little monkey he had been following was in some way connected with this sensation.  No reasons or explanations accompanied the thought, but it seemed obvious that it must be true.  It also seemed obvious that he must continue his pursuit.

            Into the darkness he plunged.  There were no trails to follow for, as far as he knew, no man had dared enter the jungle for at least several hundred years.  Neither this thought, nor the fact that he was chasing an animal that he had no chance of finding deterred him.  He continued pushing straight ahead, confident that he would end up in the right place.  So he struggled blindly through the thick undergrowth for several minutes until he finally saw a faint patch of light up ahead that had managed to break through the trees.  Now that he had a visible destination, he began moving more quickly until he at last reached the edge of a clearing.

            He stayed hidden behind the trees, frightened of what he saw there.  About fifty monkeys were gathered, all about the same size as the one he had seen before, but of various colors ranging from white, to gray, to brown, to black.  It was the way they were interacting with one another that he found so disconcerting.  He could almost imagine that they were humans holding intelligent conversations--they looked and nodded at each other with such understanding.  There was even a gentle murmur of noise that sounded like voices.  As he listened for a while, he gradually noticed something that nearly caused him to cry out.  He could understand what they were saying.

            “The humans must go.”

            “We’ll attack without warning--they’ll be completely unprepared.”

            “They think that wall will protect them?”

            These and other similar pieces of conversation caused his blood to turn cold.  He backed up silently for about twenty feet, making sure that none of them had seen him.  Once he was satisfied that he was far enough away, he turned and began running.  The first rays of light he could see from beyond the jungle gave him a surge of hope, spurring him onward until he had at last reached the open air.  Having made it safely this far, his pace did not let up, and he was over and down the wall in a fraction of the time it had taken him on the way out.  Frantically he began looking around until he found a fellow soldier to whom he could tell his story.

            “The monkeys, they’re planning an attack!” he forced out despite being sorely out of breath.

            “What?  Calm down.  I can’t understand you.”

            “I was in the jungle,” he started, trying to keep his voice as steady as he could between gasps, “and I saw some monkeys.  It may sound unbelievable, but I could hear them talking.  They were planning an attack.”

            A look of concern came across the other man’s face and he replied in an overly reassuring tone, “Don’t worry.  It’ll be OK.  The monkeys you said?  We already know about them and we’re ready for their attack.  Now why don’t you just go and get some sleep.  You’re obviously very tired.”

            “No, I can’t sleep now.  I have to help.”

            “It’s OK.  I’ll go and talk to the commander as soon as I get you to your bed,” he continued, still in a patronizing voice.

            “You don’t believe me do you?”

            “Of course I do.  I’m just worried that you’re not feeling well and need to get some rest.”

            “Let me talk to the commander myself, and then I’ll get some rest.  I’ll be able to last a few minutes more.”

            “The commander’s very busy now.  Come on.  Let’s go to your tent.”

            As he said this, he placed his hands on the shoulders of the unsettled man in an attempt to steer him in the proper direction.  This gesture was met by a violent shove as the man escaped his grasp and took off running. 

He knew that he did not believe his story about the monkeys, and he did not entirely blame him for his doubt.  However, regardless of whatever ridicule they might heap upon him, they had to be warned.  Otherwise, they all might be destroyed.

#

            Abar loved climbing into the hills that stood between the mountains and his family’s land.  From these heights he could look out over the entire valley and see all that he would one day inherit.  He knew every detail of the land between the walls at either end of the gap--from the number of sheep and cattle in the pastures to what types of crops were growing in each of the fields.  What lay beyond those walls, on the other hand, was something about which he neither knew nor cared.  Out there he was nothing, but in this realm he was a god.

            From as early as he could remember, his parents and tutors had been preparing him for the day he would take over the house of Yedinay from his father.  It seemed as natural to him that he should rule and others should serve as it did that the sun should shine during the day and the stars at night.  He did not think of himself as being privileged, but as merely fulfilling a role, no different from the maid who swept the floors fulfilling hers.

            He was standing in the eastern hills watching the shadow of the western mountains stretch slowly toward him as the sun fell lower in the sky.  Not until the darkness had reached him did he decide to start on his way back down.  The path was broad and easy to follow even in the fading light, for it had been made to bear the weight of heavy carts loaded with precious metals plundered from the mountains.  Its gently winding course was twice as long as some of the footpaths, but it had been a hot day and the coolness of the evening felt good on his skin.

            Once he reached level ground he continued following the path, feeling an urge to walk by his family’s vast storehouses.  They were the largest man-made structures in the valley--four of them measuring seventy-five by fifty feet around the base and twenty-five feet in height--filled with the accumulated riches of the land.  By the time he reached them night had fully arrived, and they appeared just as four large patches of blackness blotting out the twinkling of the stars.  He was standing before them delighting in the thought that all their greatness was his when he was startled by the sound of a door closing.

            Noiselessly he crept to the edge of the wall and looked around the corner.  In the starlight he could just make out a man walking away from the storehouse carrying some sort of bundle on his back.  The manner in which he was intentionally avoiding the better-lit areas as he crept along convinced Abar that he must be a thief.  He decided to follow him in order to see if he might be led to a horde of confederates.  So enraged was he at seeing even this small portion of his wealth in the hands of another that the danger of confronting an entire band of thieves by himself did not occur to him.  Such activities had to be completely wiped out from his kingdom.

#

            It was raining gently as Kathryn walked out of the council meeting.  She held up the sleeve of her cloak to watch the drops of water bead up and roll off it without soaking through.  Although she did not know with what substances it had been treated to make it repel water so efficiently, she greatly appreciated this quality of her cloak on days such as this.  This appreciation was amplified by the sight of the unfortunate man in front of her whose shirt was rapidly becoming saturated with water.

            “Hello there,” she said walking up to him.  “It looked like the meeting was a bit rough on you.  You shouldn’t let them get to you so much.”

            Her fellow councilor sighed and then answered, “I don’t know.  I think getting upset is all I have.  It doesn’t seem like I’ll ever actually get any of my ideas to be discussed on the floor.”

            Kathryn smiled.  “Well don’t go bragging to me about how your ideas never make it to the floor.  I’ve got seven years of experience at it.”

            “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.  When I joined the council, my dream was to be able to really help people.  There are so many in my state who are starving, and I haven’t been able to do anything for them.  I thought the Empire was founded on the principle of giving to those in need.”

            “I used to think that too, but the Empire wasn’t founded to help the poor.  It was founded to fill the pockets of Abar I and all his descendants after him.”

            “But how can you stay here then?  How can you keep working at something when you know they’ll never let you win?”

            “When one door closes, you have to look for another.  Trying to effect any beneficial change through the council is impossible, I agree.”  She hesitated for a moment and then continued, “But there are alternatives.  Is it fair to say that you believe the purpose of the government should be to serve the people?”

            “Yes, of course.”

            “And if it failed in that purpose, would you be averse to using more...unorthodox methods of making sure there was a government that did its duty?”

            He spoke slowly, thinking about her words as he did so.  “No, not at all.”

            “Good,” she said extending her hand toward him.

            He reached out with his own hand and shook the one being proffered to him.  As he did so, he felt a piece of crumpled paper being slipped into his palm.

#

            The cautiousness of the other man was actually making it easier for Abar to follow him.  There were enough shadows in which to hide that Abar would never be seen, so the other’s constant stops to look around served only to slow himself down.  As they moved away from the densely populated central region of the city, the man gained confidence and the stops became less frequent.  This was fortunate for Abar since objects capable of casting shadows were becoming less frequent as well.  By the time they had left the buildings completely behind, there was only a token glance cast over the shoulder every several minutes, given more out of habit than in any attempt to actually check for pursuers.

            Abar’s reluctance to be seen was in no way caused by fear.  This man had wronged him, and the resulting feeling of moral superiority had given him an inflated sense of physical superiority as well.  In fact it was a test of his patience to restrain himself from attacking the man and thereby eliminating any chance of seeing whether there were fellow conspirators.

            The ground was now becoming quite hilly, and Abar wondered where this man might be leading him, for he knew of no one that lived this far out.  Perhaps he was headed to a rendezvous point that had intentionally been chosen as far away from any dwellings as possible, or maybe there was some sort of secret thieves’ cave hidden up in the mountains.  As he reached the crest of the next hill, he found his answer.  Down in between this hill and the next was a hut with a lantern shining through its window.  It was worn down to the point that, if it had not been for the presence of the light within and the woman standing in the doorway, he would have assumed it had been abandoned several decades earlier.  He waited until the man had entered and closed the door before running down the slope after him.  When he came nearer to the house, he slowed down so as to reduce the noise of his steps and ducked beneath the window where he could overhear those inside without being seen.

            “I know it’s not much,” he heard the man’s voice saying, “but it was as much as I dared carry.”

            “It’s OK,” came the reassuring voice of the woman.  “It’ll give us a much better chance than we had without it.”

            “Without it we had no chance,” replied the man in a voice that was clearly being kept quiet by a conscious effort despite increasing emotion.  “The kids haven’t eaten in two days, and how much longer has it been for us?  Still, the whole thing makes me feel dirty.”

            “Dear, you did the right thing.  We couldn’t just let our children starve.  Besides, it’s not like they’re going to run out of food any time soon.  They probably won’t even notice that it’s gone.”

            “I know, I know, but why should I have to go against my conscience to allow my kids to live.  There has to be another way.”

            “Sometimes life is just hard and there’s nothing you can do about it.  Come on, let’s go to bed.  You’re tired and you’ll feel better after you’ve had some sleep.”

            A few minutes later, the lantern was extinguished and the hut became silent.  Abar continued to sit under the window, his heart still burning with anger at the injustice that had been done.  The words that he had just heard had done nothing to diminish the intensity of his rage, but had only served to refocus it against himself.

#

            The other boys laughed at him for saying so, but he had always loved the winter.  It was too cold to venture far from the warmth of their homes, and it was not uncommon for the children of different families to be separated from one another for weeks at a time.  A good snow fall might provide some relief, allowing them to escape their homes to forts of ice and engage in snowball battles, but such weather occurred only once every two or three years in those parts.  No, for almost every child except him the winters were times of infinite boredom and of dreaming about the spring to come.

            For him winter meant that it was too cold for his father to be out in the fields working.  Winter meant staying up late by the fire, fatigue being held back by a day of inactivity, listening to his parents and grandparents telling him fantastic stories of the early days.  The raw power of the darkness that had once kept the land in constant dread and the nobility of those who had possessed the courage to confront it captivated his mind in a way that no game of tag ever could.

            That night his grandfather was telling him a tale that he had heard many times before but loved nonetheless.  As the familiar words drifted through his mind, he watched the flames dance in the hearth before him, imagining that he was witnessing the great battles of long ago being reenacted in their flickering.  He was fascinated by their intricate patterns of charges and retreats, driven by currents too subtle for his own senses to perceive.  The battle grew to a fierce climax and then began slowly to ebb in intensity as the combatants grew weary, until at last the sound of his father’s voice ended the fantasy.

            “Son, we’re out of wood.  Can you run out to the barn and fetch some of the wheat?”

            “Yes papa.”

            He obediently grabbed his coat and ran out the door, stumbling as it shut behind him and left him in complete darkness.  For a few minutes he stood in the cold, staring blindly into the night until his eyes began adjusting from the brightness of the fire to the dimmer starlight.  The barn was not far away, and he was so familiar with the path that he began walking as soon as he was able to locate it against the blackness of the surrounding terrain.  By the time he had filled his arms with as many of the dried stalks as they could carry and started on the return trip, he was able to make out the landscape with a clarity that made his blindness of only a few minutes ago seem almost unbelievable.

            His eyes followed the river, which he could now see shimmering with reflected stars, back up to the forest from which it flowed.  It was not more than five hundred feet away and yet he had never entered it.  No one from his village had.  Those woods were controlled by the house of Narrum, and for as long as his own Sallah clan had existed, the two had never been on friendly terms.  The mutual animosity had never erupted into open war, but at the same time, to enter their land or engage in trade with them would be unthinkable.  As was common throughout the continent in those days before the Empire, these neighboring villages might as well have been hundreds of miles apart.

            A cold wind swept through his coat, reminding him that he had been standing in place as he had been surveying the land.  Quickly he ran back to the house, using his foot to knock on the door once he arrived since his hands were otherwise engaged.  His father opened it and he entered, at first glad for the warmth but then struck by a feeling of regret.  The wheat never burned for long, which meant that now that they had exhausted their scarce supply of wood, the stories would soon be ending for the night.

            #

            There were no clouds overhead, which left nothing but a thin layer of atmosphere to insulate the forest from the cold night sky.  What little heat the ground had managed to store up during the day from the feeble winter sun now fled out into the emptiness of space.  Deprived of its energy, the woods were filled with an eerie stillness.  In a large clearing stood a pile of logs, stacked neatly in square layers that reached up beyond the tops of the surrounding trees.  Dark forms were slowly filling in the area around its base until they covered the clearing floor.  A single spark caused the darkness to recede for a brief instant, illuminating the faces of the men and women who had gathered there.  Then came a second one that found its target.  A steady luminous orb pulsated at the end of a torch as an incantation was recited over it in an ancient tongue.  When the words were finished, the torched was tossed into the heart of the tower of wood.

            In that moment the cold, silent grip the darkness held on the forest was flung apart as flames rushed up toward the heavens urged on by wild cheers from below.  The somber stillness had been transformed into a writhing dance of celebration.  With frenetic energy the people pressed every bit of strength they could summon into the chaotic motion of their bodies.  Voices shouted out to the gods of Narrum, praising them for the gift of fire that allowed them to live while the world around them died.  Hands hurled sacrifices into the flames--grains and vegetables that were precious commodities in a land with so little arable farmland.

            An ecstasy had consumed their minds, numbing them to the burning of their muscles and driving the rhythms of their steps to an ever quickening beat.  So the frenzied celebration continued to gain momentum as the great tower of lumber was consumed and the intensity of the flames diminished.  At last, after the blackness of the sky had already begun to soften in anticipation of the rising sun, a single body collapsed.  It was soon followed by others at random intervals and locations.  If some spectator had attempted to guess at each instant who would be the next to fall, he would have found it an impossible task, for none of them allowed even the slightest slackening in their fervor until all had been spent.  When the sun finally peeked into that clearing, it saw a spent pile of ash surrounded by spent bodies.

#

            Since that night a week ago when he had followed the thief to his home, Abar had been in a state of continuous agitation.  During the day he could not focus on any of his duties and instead spent hours sitting in his room staring at the wall.  At night he lay on his bed, unable to calm the ragings of his mind long enough to find more than an hour of sleep at a time.  On one such sleepless night he had sneaked back to that man’s house and anonymously left enough food to last his family a month, but even that had not helped.  The surge of feelings--guilt, anger, self-loathing--had overwhelmed him to such an extent that it had taken him that full week before he could even begin to try to understand from where they were coming.

            Finally he realized that his view of the world had been too small.  It had been a neatly organized place where each person had his proper role and they all worked together to make it run.  That night he had been confronted with a piece that did not fit, forcing him to realize that the world was too big to fit inside his head.  Here was a man who, according to the narrow laws of Abar’s universe, had no option but to watch his children starve before him.  How could such a view be correct?  How much farther did the real world extend beyond that tiny image that had occupied his complete attention up to now?  What wonders, what agonies had been occurring just beyond his view without his ever being aware of them?

            He knew neither the answer to these questions nor where to find them, but he was certain that if they could be found anywhere, it would not be in the only city he had ever known.  As he surveyed his room deciding what to take with him, he realized that none of his possessions would be of any use to him.  These accumulated treasures of a lifetime were the trophies of a misguided philosophy and to cling to them would be to cling to the ideas that had given them their great value.  With disgust he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

            As he made his way outside he guessed the time to be somewhere in the middle of the morning.  His father would be out inspecting the fields, and his mother would be busy harassing the servants, which would allow him to leave unseen.  He hesitated as he thought of how worried they would be when they discovered he had gone, but he could not tell them where he was going--not because he did not wish to but because he felt unable to do so.  Encapsulating the clouds of thought swirling through his mind into a set of coherent words would be no easier than compressing the clouds of the sky into an empty jam jar.  They had not seen any more of the world beyond their city than had he, so how could he make them understand ideas that he did not even understand himself?  They would tell him it was foolish.  They would tell him there was nothing for him out there.  Perhaps they would be right, but he had to know for certain.

            He did not look back toward his house as he walked away with nothing but the clothes that he wore and the staff in his hand.  His eyes remained fixed on the path ahead until he had passed through the northern gate.  Only then did he allow himself to turn around.  Feelings of love and pride welled up within him as he looked upon the home he was now leaving.  These emotions surprised him somewhat and he realized for the first time since having made the decision to go away that he did not hate his former life.  His family had a long history in that land and had accomplished much that was good during their time there.  No, what drove him away now was the conviction that they could go no further.  Until they had gained the wisdom to look upon themselves with an expanded vision, they would not be able to see their weaknesses and repair them.  He would return, and when he did he would fill the house of Yedinay with a glory that would extend beyond the aristocracy to all of its city’s residents.

#

            “Are you sure you’ve packed enough food, Kathryn?”

            “Dad, if I try to make my poor horse carry any more, he’ll collapse before he’s gone two miles.  Besides, we know most of the farmers in this area and I’m sure none of them would let me starve if I showed up on their doorstep hungry.”

            “You’re probably right, but I can’t help but worry about sending you off on your own.  You’re only fifteen, after all.”

            “I’ll be fine.  I’m only going to be gone a couple of weeks.”  Kathryn smiled as she added, “Anyway, you should get used to it.  If all goes well I’ll be leaving for the capital next year.”

            Her father returned her smile and replied, “I suppose you’re right.  I wish I had the money to support you at the academy myself.  Actually, I wish I had enough money to make your life around here more exciting and convince you to stick around.  You know we can always use your help running the farm.”

            “I know papa, and I’d love to stay with you, but there’s just so much good I feel I could be doing out there.”

            “There’re plenty of people who need help around here.”

            “That’s true, but I think the answers to our biggest problems lie beyond our little community.  How long are we going to let the Imperial soldiers come in here and help themselves to whatever they want?  No one in power now cares about our problems.  If we want to end that sort of corruption, we need to put someone who cares about us on the council...or maybe in a key military position.  I suppose I could always try joining the army if you prefer.”

            Her father laughed.  “No no, you have my total support in going to school to study for the councilor’s exam.  Anyway, I suppose I shouldn’t be too worried--you already showed those soldiers that you won’t tolerate any misbehavior from them.  If you gave them such a fright as a little girl, they’d better watch out now that you’re all grown up.”

            “Yeah, and I seem to remember you being angry enough then that you probably would have welcomed a chance to be rid of me for a little bit.  What happened?”

            “I guess I’m just getting too senile to remember what a handful you can be.”

            The two of them continued working in silence.  Kathryn’s father told himself that he should not worry about sending her off under-prepared, for she was right about their fellow farmers--they were very hospitable and would be sure to provide her with food and shelter as she needed.  Anyway, she was an exceptionally bright girl--much more clever than any of her brothers--and would be capable of dealing with any challenges she might encounter.  He looked upon her with pride as he thought about the possibility of her sitting on the Imperial council one day.  Who was he to have a child elevated to such a lofty position?  The idea of the most important matters of the Empire being decided by a girl he had so many times had to discipline for causing mischief brought a grin to his face.  All their neighbors were proud of her, and he had no doubt that they would quickly help her raise the money necessary for funding her education.  They would not be disappointed with their investment.

            “Well, I guess it’s about time for you to get going,” he said after they had loaded the last of her provisions onto her horse.  “Be careful now, OK?”

            “I will papa.  You take care of yourself too while I’m gone.”

            After they had embraced, she mounted her horse and rode away.

#

            Even at the best of times, Jacob was not fond of the unceasing pandemonium of the goods distribution center, but having just returned from an extended mission, he now found it almost unbearable.  Still, he knew that the paperwork was important.  The quantity of each good collected had to be recorded and compared to the amount requested by the government.  Any discrepancies between the two, for instance if some accident had caused production to be lower than expected, had to be carefully documented as well.  It was a long process, but it had to be done.

            “Finished with that yet, Jacob?”

            “Almost,” he answered, looking up from his forms to the collection official.  “It was a particularly large convoy, so it’s taking a little longer than normal.”

            “You always take a little longer than normal,” said the official with a laugh.  “If everyone were as meticulous as you, I think the entire Empire would be perpetually a week behind schedule.”

            “If everyone were a week behind schedule together, then no one would notice the difference.  Anyway, if you consider the amount of time and effort that went into producing all these goods, then it doesn’t seem so unreasonable to take a few extra minutes to make sure everything is recorded properly.  I wouldn’t want to cheat anyone.”

            “True enough.  It wouldn’t be a bad thing at all to have a few more people around here like you.”

            When he had finished checking over and signing all the forms, Jacob handed them to the official and left.  At least he had not missed much as far as the weather was concerned, he thought to himself as he braced himself against a cold gust of wind.  The weather always seemed to turn bad when he had time off in the city.  No matter--it would just provide him with more motivation to stay indoors and train.  Whenever he left the capital it threw off his conditioning routine.  After such a long time away he was feeling particularly slow and weak and was looking forward to beating his body back into peak condition.

            He stopped as he noticed a man struggling to steer a cart down a heavily pot-holed alley.  Thinking that he might be able to provide some help, Jacob began following after him, but held back when he noticed that one of the bags on the cart was marked with the Imperial insignia.  Such a shipment should be headed either toward the distribution center or toward one of the exits of the city, but this one was being steered toward neither.  Curious, he decided to continue following it but kept his distance so as to remain unnoticed.

            The worn road was giving the driver so much trouble that it absorbed all of his attention, making it a simple matter for Jacob to remain unseen.  The unknown man led him to one of the regions of the city that was seldom visited by military patrols and, consequently, seldom visited by the more respectable citizens of the capital as well.  As the wagon at last came to a stop, Jacob kept himself concealed behind the corner of a building, peeking his head around in order to see if he could figure out its business.

            Nothing happened for several minutes, and then a second man approached the wagon from the direction opposite of where Jacob had hidden himself.  The driver stepped down from his seat to greet the man, and as he did so the hood of his cloak fell back to reveal a bright red head of hair.  Although he was too far away for his face to be clearly seen, Jacob was certain that he recognized that shade as belonging to a soldier with whom he had once worked.  If he was correct, the man’s name was Aachen.  He had been serving in the army since long before Jacob had joined, but possessed only mediocre skills and had never advanced far in rank.  In fact, as a member of the elite unit Jacob was now his superior.

            The second man handed the red head a bag that looked very probably to be filled with coins, and the latter proceeded to unload two large crates from his cart.  With some effort the two men carried one of the crates beyond the region which Jacob could see from his hiding place.  By the time they had returned to fetch the second one, Jacob was standing in front of their cart waiting for them.  Perhaps he was misjudging the situation, but if it was what it seemed to be, then he would have to put an end to it.

#

Jacob ran behind his dad, his short legs making it difficult for him to keep pace with his father’s long strides.  As he ran, he kept his eyes fixed solidly on the man in front of him.  It was rare that Jacob was able to spend time with him, as his father’s duties as a soldier kept him away from his son for months at a time.  The young boy always enjoyed whatever time his father could share with him, but this day was by far more exhilarating than any of those previous ones.  Today marked the beginning of Jacob’s training as a warrior.

Upon reaching the designated spot, his father suddenly stopped, causing Jacob to stumble as he avoided running into him.  Jacob stared up in awe at the tall, powerful figure before him and at the two objects he was carrying.  The first was his pole-axe--an object that had enchanted the boy for as long as he could remember but that had never been permissible for him to touch.  The second item his father now handed to him.  It was a wooden staff about half the length of the pole-axe and lacking the blade.

He proceeded to show Jacob the basics of combat, from proper footwork to blocking and striking.  For the rest of the day, the young boy practiced the various techniques in the air as his father watched carefully.  Jacob imagined himself in some remote and lonely region, fighting for the Empire against an unseen foe.  No matter how fearsome the opponents, they were all unable to touch him.  In the middle of each fight, however, just as his enemy was losing all hope and preparing to flee, a harsh blow would knock his staff from his hands, or an unexpected nudge would cause him to lose his balance and fall to the ground.  The fantasy world would quickly fade into reality as he heard his father saying, “Make sure you keep your grip tight,” or “You’re overreaching with your strikes and throwing yourself off balance.”

Eventually the sky began to darken, and Jacob, despite being fueled with the intense excitement of childhood, began to tire.  His father then gathered a handful of small stones and drew a circle in the ground about a yard wide with the end of his pole-axe.

“Here’s one last exercise I want you to learn so that you can work on it while I’m away,” he said as he handed the stones to his son.  “Stand in the center and throw these straight up into the air.  The goal is not to let any of them land inside the circle.”

Jacob tossed the stones into the air just as he had been instructed and swung wildly at them with his staff.  Then with grave disappointment he surveyed the ground to find that they had all landed within the ring.

“Keep practicing son,” his father offered.  “If you work hard enough at it, you’ll be getting every one of them by the time I come home again.”

Crying half from frustration and half from fatigue, Jacob shouted back, “But that’s impossible.  No one could hit all those stones.  Why should I even waste my time trying?”

“Now you know that you must not talk back to your teachers like that,” scolded his father in a tone of mixed sternness and doting.  “You learn by listening and obeying.  What will they think of you when you go off to train in the capital if you talk like that?”

Lowering himself to one knee, his father picked up the stones.  After he had retrieved them all, he stood up again and drew a second, slightly larger circle on the ground around himself.  Instinctively Jacob began to back away as his father tossed the stones up above his head.  Suddenly, the air was filled with loud cracks and flying rocks.  Jacob dove to the ground and covered his face in defense.  When the noise had stopped, he cautiously lifted his head.  There stood his father, pole-axe in hand, in the center of the ring with not a single stone lying inside it with him.

#

The hill country to the north of the easternmost edge of the great mountain range was perhaps the most beautiful land on the entire continent.  The towering hills and deep valleys filled visitors with the same sense of overwhelming power as did the mightiest of the mountains, but they were also infused with a sense of life that was lacking in their cold, stone cousins.  Thick green grass, unspoiled by roads or domesticated grazing, covered the ground, interrupted only by the occasional grove of trees or the swift, clear water of a stream that was fed by the melting snows of the mountains.  Every aspect of that place was clean, pure, and filled with an intensity whose precise nature could not be described but whose presence could not be denied.

Presently the sun was setting, enhancing the land’s natural beauty with an air of the magical.  Long shadows and fiery sunlight alternately hid and highlighted the landscape, augmenting the contrast of its features.  This daily ritual was one of nature’s most impressive displays, but it had been witnessed by very few human eyes.  A single house stood on one of the hills, serving as the home for the region’s only sentient inhabitants.  It had been built by a man who felt the need to live in a home surrounded by the blessings of nature but who did not possess the wealth to buy land in a more civilized territory.  A young boy was seated about a hundred yards away from it facing west.  The privileged position he held as the sole witness of that wondrous event was wasted on him, for he saw none of it.  His eyes were fixed steadily on the horizon waiting for the arrival of someone who meant more to him than even this, the greatest of nature’s offerings.

At last he could see a dark shape coming steadily toward him.  Patiently he watched as it resolved itself into a man on horseback and eventually into the specific man for whom he had been waiting.  By the time the rider had reached him the sun had sunk completely out of view, but the light from the moon and stars were enough for him to see by as he ran out to greet him.

“Father!” he cried as the man dismounted and enveloped him in a warm hug.

“It’s good to see you, Jacob.”

“So how was your mission?  Did you get to fight any bandits?” the boy asked in one breath as his father released him.

            “There was only a small skirmish.  We had them outnumbered, so they surrendered pretty quickly.”

            “I bet you fought off a bunch of them, didn’t you?”

            “Well, I did my part.”

            “You’re the best soldier they have.  How much longer till they make you one of the elites?”

            “Becoming an elite is a very difficult thing--only the very best are given that honor.  I’m still far too inexperienced, but maybe in a few years if I keep training hard and have a bit of luck.”

            “You’ll make it for sure!”

            “And what about you?  Have you been training like I taught you?”

            “Every day, as much as mother will allow.  I can clear twenty stones almost every time now.”

            “You’ll have to show me tomorrow.  If I don’t ever become an elite, at least I’ll have the reassurance that you’ll make it some day.  You keep up your training and you’ll be the greatest soldier the Empire has ever had.”

            “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be as good as you.”

            “Just keep practicing and you won’t have to worry about that.  Besides, it’s not how well you fight that’s important, but the causes for which you choose to fight.  The Empire is dedicated to ensuring that everyone has a fair chance to live, because no man is better than his neighbor.  If you fight for that cause, I’ll always be proud of you.  Come on, your mom must be waiting for us.  And don’t forget the rule--no talking about my work when she’s around.”

            They made their way to the house where Jacob’s mother greeted her husband with a long embrace.  Then they sat down to eat the feast that had been set out on the table.  Talking gaily without intermission, they discussed a wide variety of topics from the weather to the latest fashions in the capital to how much Jacob had grown in the past six months.  Throughout the evening, however, they always made sure to obey the rule that nothing that might produce any worry or distress would be brought up.  The times that they were all together were so infrequent that they had all agreed several years ago that they should be spent only on the enjoyment of each other.  No one thought about how the food they were eating had cost more than they could afford or about how they would survive the coming winter.  Nor did they discuss any of the dangers that accompanied the life of an Imperial soldier.  Most strictly forbidden of all, though, was any mention of the fact that Jacob’s father would be leaving again in just three days.  That night the lamp remained burning until the house was filled once more with the rays of the rising sun.

#

            A young boy sat ignoring the glory that the light of the setting sun cast on the hills all around him.  He was waiting for the return of his father.  For the past six months he had spent every moment left to him after he had finished his chores developing his skills with his staff for the sole purpose of making him smile.  Wherever he went he wore the weighted training bracelets his father had brought him from the capital in order to develop the strength in his upper body.  The pain they had brought with every movement had been endured with the anticipation of his father’s reaction at seeing how strong he had grown.  In the course of his isolated life in the foothills, Jacob had been given the chance to know and love only two people.  He refused to disappoint either of them.

            At last the familiar shape of a man on horseback came into view, and he watched eagerly as it approached too slowly.  When the rider had arrived and dismounted, Jacob ran toward him, but drew up suddenly when he realized through the darkness that the man was not his father.

            “Are you Jacob?” the stranger asked.

            The boy hesitated a moment before forcing out a nervous, “Yes.”

            “I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but your father won’t be returning.  We were on a routine escort assignment when we were ambushed by some bandits.  They had hidden themselves in a barn, and when we opened the door they struck down five of our men before we had any chance to react.  I’m so sorry.”  He paused to allow the boy to absorb the news he had just received.  After a span of time that he deemed appropriate had passed he continued, “He wanted me to give you this.”

            The man removed a medallion from around his neck and handed it to Jacob.  It was a disc with a pine tree etched on one side.  The image had been left the color of the metal while the negative space around it had been painted green.  Jacob recognized this as the emblem that was given to each soldier when he first joined the Imperial army.  If someone earned the honor of being accepted into the ranks of the elite he was given a second medallion to wear in its place.  It could be differentiated from the standard one by the black coloration of the pine tree and the addition of the rising sun behind it in red.

            “Is your mother in?”

            Jacob nodded without looking up.  With his whole mind absorbed by the medallion in his hands, he did not even notice whether the man had gone into the house or had remained standing there over him.  He was consumed by the thought that his father had been taken before he had been able to achieve his dream of joining the elites.  The rest of the world would never acknowledge the greatness that Jacob knew he had possessed.

            His father had loved the Empire.  He had believed in its mission to ensure that no hard working person was left without food or shelter.  It was not right for a human life to be forced to depend on the amount of rain in the spring, the severity of the winter, or any other whim of nature.  This was why his father had pushed himself to become ever better.  It was not a matter of simply pleasing his superiors but of doing what was right.  He had also done it for the love of his family.  All the time he had been working to transform the world into a better place, he had been working to transform it for them.

            Now that man was gone with only this medallion to commemorate his accomplishments.  How could such a person be reduced to this one thin disk of metal?  As he sat there Jacob slowly began to realize that this was not all that he had left behind.  All the hours he had spent training and teaching his son were not gone but continued to live with him.  It was now his duty to show the world the greatness that had been passed down to him and prove the worth of the man who had given it.

#

            “So what did you think of him?” asked Jacob.

            “He was good,” replied Jorim.  “He beat me as quickly as you ever did.  I hear he’s even been able to defeat a number of the instructors.  I think you might actually have a real challenge on your hands.”

            “Good.  This should be fun.”

            When they walked into the gymnasium it was already packed with their fellow students.  It was a tradition for them to gather there after their official training was over on the last day of each week to test their skills with the staff against one another.  In his first year at the academy Jacob had quickly become the champion of these informal sparring sessions with such dominant victories that the others viewed him almost as a god.  On this particular afternoon not a student was missing, because they all wanted to see their god prove his power to an unbeliever.

            In every incoming class a number of the students came from the Imperial Military Preparatory School, more commonly referred to as IMPS.  Only the very wealthiest parents--high government or military officials--could afford to send their children to that prestigious institution, and the students who graduated from it felt no shame in flaunting their superiority to everyone they met.  To the great consternation of those who came from more modest backgrounds, there was little they could do to combat these inflated egos because the fighting skills developed under an IMPS education really were worth the substantial monetary investment they demanded.  It was a rare case when anyone without the advantage of this extra preparation could best an IMPS graduate in a match.

            This state of affairs had come to be generally accepted by generations of students at the military academy.  This year, however, there were two important differences.  First, there was a new student from IMPS who possessed both an ego and fighting abilities that far exceeded those of any of its previous graduates.  Second, the common student now had a champion who not only seemed invincible, but who also came from one of the poorest families out of any of them.  So for all those students who had not had the privilege of training at IMPS, this was their chance to see the best that school had to offer being humiliated by one of their own.  For those who had come from wealthier backgrounds, this was their chance to see their belief in the superiority of the aristocracy vindicated.

            Save for the ten yard diameter circle marked in fading paint in the center of the room, the floor of the gymnasium was packed tight with spectators.  Most of them would be unable to see the match for themselves, but this did not diminish the enthusiasm with which they awaited the impending duel.  The hall was filled with the sounds of eager voices arguing their opinions about who the superior fighter was until at last the two champions pushed their way into the middle of the ring with staves in hand.

            “So, you ready to get started?” asked Jacob.

            “One second,” answered his opponent.  “I’d better take these off first.  They’re the heaviest ones they make.”

            As the other boy began rolling up his sleeves to remove the single large training bracelet from each wrist, Jacob mumbled to himself, “Oh right.  I almost forgot about those.”

            The IMPS student watched as Jacob pulled back his own sleeves to reveal two bracelets on each arm, each the size of the ones he had just taken off himself.  Jacob did not add another word as he handed them to one of the students at the edge of the ring.  Once both boys had removed their training equipment they faced each other and readied their staves.

            “Ready?” asked Jacob.

            “Go,” replied the other.

            The two combatants began slowly circling each other looking for some opening to exploit.  With a violent flurry of strikes the IMPS graduate made the first move.  He drove Jacob back a few steps, but his opponent managed to parry every blow.  From this initial exchange the battle opened up into an intricate series of attacks and counters following one after the other without interruption.  At first the IMPS graduate was caught off guard by Jacob’s skill, which far surpassed that of anyone he had fought before, but he quickly regained his confidence after successfully fending off the first offensive brought against him.  He was certainly good, but far from unbeatable.  Seeing an opportunity, the IMPS grad made a lunge with his staff that Jacob just managed to knock away before it could make contact.  He continued to press his attack, spotting a number of vulnerable positions but never quite being able to capitalize on them.  After several minutes of this unrelenting pace, the fighters stepped back from each other to catch their breaths.

            Jacob relaxed from his fighting stance and said, “That’s probably enough.”

            “What, are you giving up?” asked the other, disbelieving what he had heard.

            “No,” replied Jacob calmly, “I just don’t think that there’s anything else I can learn from you.  It was a good match--you fought well.”

            “I had the advantage the entire time.  You know it as well as I do.”

            “No.  I’ve been studying how you fight, and I don’t think there’s any way you can beat me.  There’s not really much point in going on.”  Jacob’s words carried no hint of emotion, as if he was stating a fact as obvious as the color of the sky.

            “If you’re so confident then prove it.  I’m not leaving this ring until you admit that I’m the better fighter.”

            “If that’s the way you want it.  Are you ready to continue?”

            “Let’s go!”

            As soon as the boy had readied himself, Jacob drove a strike toward his head.  He raised his staff to block it, but with a movement too quick for him to react to, Jacob redirected his blow toward his mid section.  The staff caught him hard in the stomach, driving the wind from his lungs in such a violent rush that he collapsed to the ground gasping for air.

            “You see,” said Jacob in the same emotionless tone as he stood over his crumpled opponent, “you have a number of bad habits that give away your moves.  If you like, I’d be happy to point them out to you some time.”

#

            The two men started as they saw Jacob waiting for them in front of their cart.  One immediately turned and fled, but the red head stood his ground.  Jacob had been correct in identifying him as Aachen, and from the expression on the other’s face it was evident that he recognized Jacob as well.  It was not a look of fear at having been found out, but of comfort at being confronted with the familiar.

            “Hello Jacob,” said Aachen with a mocking smile.

            “The goods on this cart belong to the Empire.  What are you doing with them?”

            “I’m selling them.  You know as well as I do how little they pay us...at least those of us who aren’t members of the elite unit.”

            “Where did you take that crate?  If you turn it and the rest of these goods over to me now it’ll be much easier for you.”

            “I disagree.  It’d be much easier for me to keep on selling them just as I’ve been doing for some time now.”

            “If you won’t cooperate then I’m going to have to arrest you.”

            “It’ll be much easier for you if you don’t.”

            Jacob reached out to grab his arm, but Aachen pulled it away too quickly for him to catch it.  He then brought his other arm swiftly around to strike Jacob’s jaw, driving him back several steps.  As soon as he regained his balance Jacob removed his pole-axe from his back and lunged toward Aachen who, in turn, grabbed the staff that was lying across the seat of his cart and used it to deflect the blow.  Jacob followed with a steady barrage of attacks, but Aachen avoided them all with ease.  In fact he scarcely seemed to be exerting himself at all.  Then, with one simple movement, Aachen swung his staff into Jacob’s ribs, knocking him against the cart.

            Jacob was stunned as much by the surprise of the blow as from its physical impact.  In his experience fights had always been predictable and easily manipulated events.  Opponents had obviously decipherable strategies and slow movements that never allowed for anything unexpected.  In a sudden rush of horror he realized that he was losing control of this fight, which was something he could not afford to do.  Aachen had stolen from the people and their property had to be reclaimed.  Pushing himself away from the wagon with one arm, he swung his pole-axe with the other.  Aachen stepped easily out of the way and proceeded to dodge the following combination of attacks.  As Jacob saw the grin on the other man’s face, it was only by the utmost exertion of his will that he kept his rage from overwhelming him.  An angry fighter was a sloppy fighter, and he could not give such a dangerous opponent any additional advantages.  However, each swing that missed its target only added to his frustration until at last he gave in and began throwing his entire weight into a series powerful, but dangerously slow, sweeping strikes.  These were ended by a sharp blow to Jacob’s hand that caused him to lose his grip on his weapon.  As he fumbled to regain control of it, a second blow struck him across the side of his head, sending him to the ground.  When he awoke, both Aachen and the wagon were gone.

#

            Jorim saw Kathryn so infrequently that he hated to leave her, but it had been over an hour since Jacob was supposed to have met them there in the garden.  His friend had agreed to fill out the paperwork for the shipment of goods they had brought in that afternoon knowing how eager Jorim was to see Kathryn.  However, that had been several hours ago and, even as meticulous as Jacob was, he could not possibly still be working at it.

            Arriving at the distribution center, he suddenly realized how much harder it would be to find his friend than he had imagined.  Both the sheer number of people and the seemingly random way in which they were constantly stirring themselves would make locating any specific individual nearly impossible.  Even if after hours of searching he had still not found him, he was not sure that he would be able to convince himself that he had not simply overlooked his friend--and the distribution center was only one small section of the city.  He would have to proceed logically and carefully if he hoped for any chance of success.

            He started by tracking down each of the collection officials until he found the one to whom Jacob had turned in his forms.  As expected, he was told that Jacob had given the man the forms a number of hours ago and then left.  Nothing unusual had been said or done, as far as the official could remember.  The next place to check was the barracks where the soldiers were housed while staying in the capital.  Many soldiers upon rising in rank, and thus in salary, purchased private homes for themselves within the city.  Jacob, however, saved whatever surplus he earned to take back to his mother who still lived in the home her husband had built for her, and thus he continued to sleep in the barracks.  No one there had seen Jacob, which made Jorim fear that his concerns for his friend’s safety had been more than just paranoid speculation.

            Not knowing what else to do, Jorim begin walking in ever wider circles about the barracks in hopes of seeing something that might provide him with some useful information.  As night approached and the sky grew darker, his sense of the futility of his search began to increase.  He was attempting to find one man in the largest city in the Empire without any clues as to his whereabouts.  Besides, he tried to console himself, if anyone was capable of taking care of himself it was Jacob.  Jorim could not recall ever having seen his friend in a situation where he did not appear to be in complete control of everything that was happening.

            It struck him as odd that there was still light coming from the gymnasium.  What student or soldier would be so industrious as to be training at this hour?  The answer came to him so quickly that he felt foolish for having even asked himself the question.  Running toward the building he already felt immensely relieved.  Not only was Jacob the only soldier who would head straight to the gymnasium after returning from a long mission, but he had blown off his two closest friends to do so.  This incident would provide the fodder for many future jokes at Jacob’s expense.  He was so occupied with thinking of the most clever jab with which to greet him as he entered the gymnasium that it was several seconds before he actually saw him, despite the fact that he was the only other person in an otherwise empty hall.  When he did, every muscle in his body froze.

            The right side of Jacob’s face was discolored by dried blood and bruises, with the one eye swollen nearly completely shut.  As disturbing as these fresh injuries appeared, the thing that really made Jorim feel uneasy was Jacob’s apparent obliviousness to his presence, even though he was facing him and not more than ten yards away.  The man had clearly been exerting himself--his body dripped with sweat and he was breathing in heavy, audible gasps.  He had removed his shirt which allowed Jorim to see the weighted training bracelets squeezed onto his arms.  There were at least half a dozen on each, which was a weight that would have had any other man pinned to the floor.  In one hand Jacob held a staff and in the other was a fistful of small stones.  He stood for several minutes staring through Jorim without actually seeing him, during which time the other could not muster the thought to do anything but stare back in silence.  Finally Jacob flung the stones straight into the air and made an attempt to swing at them with his staff, but the extra weight attached to his already weary arms caused him to lose his balance and fall to one knee.

            “You’re too weak.  That’s why you weren’t able to stop him,” Jacob mumbled to himself as he crawled around on his hands and knees collecting the fallen stones.

            When he had gathered them all, he used his staff to help push himself back to his feet.  He took two deep, labored breaths and then once more threw the stones into the air.  This time he gave a loud cry as he began swinging his staff with unbelievably quick movements.  The air was filled with the sharp cracks of the staff striking the stones and a split-second later of the stones ricocheting off the walls.  They hit with such force that they tore large divots in the brickwork.  In an instant the intense frenzy of sound and motion was over, and Jacob collapsed to the ground unconscious.

#