Dragon Warrior Chapt. 1

     This is chapter 1 of book 2.  Remember, the first two books run in a congruent timeline, so either could be read first.  Most people seem to like reading Dragon Sight first, but Dragon Warrior is faster paced, if you're into that.

Chapter 1

                The great bear stood on his rear legs, rising to his full imposing size.  My heart skipped a beat.  He was going to attack now.  I crouched in a defensive position; one sword in front of me and one behind.  I knew the charge was coming.  There was no turning back now.  I had to face the monster.  I had to beat him back.  Time seemed to slow as I anticipated the imminent attack.  The cool spring air rustled my hair.  The chill of winter had not yet left the foothills of the great mountains of the North.  Some of the trees were still tipped with snow.  The mountains just above us were heavy laden with it.  The cool air was a welcomed treat to cool me from the heated battle.

                In a blur, the bear moved.  Claws were flying.  His great maw was snapping shut with razor sharp teeth trying to get a taste of my flesh.  I was ready.  My blades danced quicker than the bear could move.  Sharp steal took bites out of his flesh.  He roared in anger each time my blades made contact.  The injuries did not stop the beast; they only managed to infuriate him.

                Claws were coming faster now.  This was no ordinary bear.  He moved with purpose and speed.  He lunged for me again, maw opened.  I brought my sword up horizontally, and shoved it into the bear’s mouth.  The blade cut the cheeks to the bone of the jaw and stuck firmly, but the momentum of the animal would not allow it to stop.  We collided.  I went sprawling feet over head backwards, the massive beast rolling over the top of me.  For a brief moment I worried that I would be crushed, but the momentum carried the animal’s massive weight beyond my body.

                I quickly rolled back to my feet, freeing a knife from my weapons belt in the process.  I was none too soon, as the bear had already turned to press the attack again.  My sword still lay imbedded in the bear’s mouth.  He rose up on his hind legs again.  This time, he did not even pause.  His full weight came crashing down on me.  A claw swept dangerously close to my body.  In as quick of a movement as I could muster, I spun, offering my sword in the place of the bear’s intended target.  With the full weight of his body behind the blow, the bear could not stop its assault.  The paw was severed at the wrist. 

                I wasted no time pressing the attack.  The bear hobbled back a step in shock and pain.  I took the ground he had lost in a stride, swinging my knife down in the process.  I added my weight to the blow, and the blade sunk up to the hilt in the bear’s shoulder.  Without flinching, the bear reared its head, knocking me out of the way.  We were on top of one of the foothills, and I rolled all the way down it from the blow.

                The great bear wasted no time.  It was charging down the hill after me before I had even finished tumbling down, myself.  I used the momentum to place some distance between us, and I rolled back to my feet, new weapons in my hands.  The bear swiped at the sword in its mouth with a massive clawed paw.  The weapon went sailing through the air.  The wound it left healed over before the sword hit the ground.  When the bear reached me, it had already grown back its severed paw.  The knife still jutted out from its shoulder, but the wound didn’t seem to bother the great beast.

                I was sweaty, and tired.  The battle had been going on like this for over an hour.  I was down to my last two blades.  Countless blows and cuts to the animal, and aside from the knife jutting out of its shoulder, the animal looked completely unharmed.  I didn’t know what I would do when my last two blades were gone.  I had been fighting since I was old enough to walk, but I was always better with a blade than hand-to-hand combat.  The bear didn’t care if I had a weapon, or not.  He continued to press the attack.

                I decided to make my last two weapons count.  I dug in and waited for the impact.  Both claws were coming this time; the bear had lunged at me and was soaring through the air.  It was a mistake.  I used his momentum to carry me backwards.  My foot came up, and caught the animal under the jaw, closing its massive maw.  I continued to flip backwards, and with all the strength I possessed, pushed the bear upward with my foot.  The kick served its purpose, and I was able to get enough space between the beast and I to swing my swords.  In a mad frenzy I stabbed.  As fast as my arms would move, I stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed.  The bear was soaring through the air above me; I was flipping backwards beneath it, but my blades were doing their lethal dance in and out of the soft underside of the beast. 

I must have poked a dozen holes all the way down the belly of the bear before we hit the ground.  The animal was unmoved by the attack.  Its rear legs came down, trying to stomp me in the process.  I was quicker.  I was on my belly on the ground underneath him, but I rolled to the side just in time to miss the heavy blow.  I came to my feet, a bit slower this time.  I could feel the fatigue settling in.  I wondered if the animal would ever tire.

The great bear turned to face me again.  He paused for only a moment.  I could see the intelligence in his eyes.  Before I could catch my breath, he pressed the attack again.  My blades came up to meet him.  Instead of taking him head on, I stepped to the side, and pivoted.  I swung my sword backwards with all of my might as the bear charged past me.  The blade found its mark, and was buried to the hilt in the bear’s side.  With the massive beast’s forward momentum, I didn’t have enough time to retrieve the weapon before he charged past.

The sword handle, and the knife handle sticking out of the animal gave it an even more menacing look.  It was a reminder that he was immortal; that I could not win this battle.  I was tired.  I wanted to stop, but I knew he would not allow it. 

I took my last blade in both hands, and waited for the attack.  The beast charged again, this time he was watching for a side step.  He was waiting for me to make a mistake.  He was waiting for me to repeat a move so that he could teach me a lesson.  I had learned not to make those mistakes in my training.  As soon as a warrior becomes predictable, he will die.  I knew the laws of war.  I was not about to break them.

As the bear charged in, I flipped forward.  I ran my blade up the back of the bear as it passed under me.  The fur, and skin separated as the blade sliced its way down the animal.  Before I had finished my strike, the beginning of the wound was mending.  The long gash closed up like a zipper before I completed my flip and landed on the ground.

I turned to face my foe once more.  The bear reared up again.  I pressed the attack.  My blade moved like lightning.  I cut across, up, down, jabbed, thrashed, and twisted.  Long cuts were all over the bear’s tender underbelly.  The wounds healed instantly.  I cut faster, deeper.  The wounds healed faster.  My arms and blade were a blur of furious movement. 

The bear started swinging its massive claws.  I had to stop my frivolous attack, and use my sword as a shield from the sharp claws.  The bear stayed on his haunches and fought with its front paws, almost like a man.  Several times I severed the massive mitts, but they always grew back as fast as I could cut them.  Every now-and-then I would thrust the sword into the bear’s chest, or stomach.  The blows, be they offensive or defensive, didn’t faze the beast.

My arms were getting heavy.  The swings were becoming increasingly more labored.  I was slowing.  The bear was not.  With a mighty blow, it knocked the sword from my hand.  With his other paw, he knocked me from my feet.  I flew a good five paces before I struck the ground.

My head was spinning, but I knew I had to get up.  On unsure legs I made it back to my feet.  The bear was already there.  It swung a massive claw at me.  I reached up, and grabbed the arm just in time.  With all my strength, I wretched the arm sideways, and up behind the bear’s back.  The bone popped.  I swung my legs over the beast, and continued pulling the arm until I was able to roll him. 

The bears other paw came around with the momentum of the roll, and caught me square in the chest.  I went sprawling again.  I landed on my back a good eight paces away.  The blow drove the air from my lungs.  I tried to sit up, but my spinning head wouldn’t let me.  I was only just able to prop myself up on my elbows to get a look at the beast bearing down on me.

A bright, yellow, glowing light left the pouch attached to my weapons belt.  I tried to call out, but there was still no air in my lungs.  The little glowing creature flew furiously at the beast.  They met head on.  One would expect the little glowing creature to lose in the collision, but that was not the case.  This was my oldest, and dearest, friend Columbine Iceweb; a fairy who found me as a baby after my parents abandoned me.  When she collided with the bear, he went sprawling.  He flew a good twenty paces up in the air and one hundred paces backwards; flipping haphazardly as he went, with arms and legs sprawling out in every direction.

“No more,” the little fairy voice shouted as the bear took flight.

I groaned inside.  I was going to be in trouble.  I sat up, and waited for her to return to me.

“Colly,” I said, admonishingly as she landed in my upturned palm.  “You do realize he’s going to kill me now, don’t you?”

Columbine’s wings wilted, the way a dogs ears do when you yell at them.  “He’s too hard on you,” she explained.  “I can’t stand it when mean old Marus hits you like that.”

I couldn’t be mad at her.  She loved me.  She only understood love.  I feigned a scold.  “Well I hit him, don’t I,” I asked.

She held her hands behind her back, looked down, and shrugged.  “I guess you do.”  She sat quietly under my scolding gaze for a moment longer.  Then her wings came up a bit with a thought, and she looked up into my eyes, “But it doesn’t hurt him like it hurts you.  I don’t like to see him hurt you.  He’s a mean old bear,” she professed.

I couldn’t hold the scold any longer, and smiled helplessly.  “Awww, you know I can’t stay mad at you, little Colly.  I love my little Colly wolly.”

With that, her wings perked up, and she glowed a little brighter.  She lifted up off my hand, flew to my face.  She kissed me on the tip of my nose.  As she did so, her yellowish glow turned a deep red.  “I love you, Apoc,” she said in her tiny fairy voice.

Just then, Marus came tromping through the bushes.  The bear was grunting angrily as he walked.  He stood up on his hind legs, and continued walking forward.  With each step, his body was transforming.  He shrunk a few feet, then his fur got thinner, his snout sunk in, the eyes changed.  Within a few paces, he was a man. 

Knight Marus was my second oldest and dearest, friend.  He had learned about my birth through a prophecy, and was sent to train me from Mother Gaia, herself.  He was the Shaman of my people.  He had been so for the last eight thousand years.  His calling as a councilman at Gaia’s table had prolonged his life, and given him powers beyond my imagination.  He had taught me how to use some of those powers, but mostly, he taught me about my power. 

He stopped just in front of me.  As I stood up, he removed the sword from his side.  The wound closed immediately once the blade was removed.  Then he reached up, and pulled the blade from his shoulder.  There was not a scratch on him to betray the damage I had done him in the training session.  His eyes, however, were dancing with anger.

“You must keep that little pest in your room when we train,” Marus said.  “We train for hours, and she undoes all our work.  How can you learn if others fight for you?”

I never knew how to answer Marus’ questions.  Anyone else would ask such a thing, and it would be a rhetorical question; Marus never asked rhetorical questions.  He always expected an answer.  I racked my brain trying to think of an answer that would appease him.  Nothing came to mind.

Colly beat me to the punch.  She flew right up to Marus’ face, and said, “You be nice! You mean old bear.”

“Why does she always do this,” Marus asked with exaggerated patience.  “She knows I do not understand a word that she says.”

Colly had the tiniest little voice.  No one could understand her, but me.  I often wondered why that was.  I could hear her from a quarter mile away, but others couldn’t hear her even if she were screaming right in their ears.

“She says, I’ve trained enough,” I said.  “She says it’s time for us to go to supper.”

Colly flashed blue, and turned to fly back to me.  “You lie head,” she exclaimed.  “I can’t believe you lied.  You tell the mean old bear what I said.  Don’t lie.  You lie head.”

I had to laugh.  Marus just raised an eyebrow.  “Ummm. She’s mad because I lied,” I explained.  “She didn’t say it was supper time.  That was my idea.”  Marus didn’t think it was funny, so I quickly wiped the smile off my face.  “What she really said was that you’re a mean old bear.”

Colly looked pleased.  She turned around, and stuck her little tongue out at Marus.  He was too far away to see her tiny features, but she didn’t seem to care.  She flew back to me, landed on my shoulder, and started snuggling with my cheek.

“You must leave the insect at home next time, Apoc,” Marus admonished.  The scowl never left his dark features.  “This is not a game.  We train you for Gaia.  You are to be the Chosen One.  You cannot live life as if it were a game.”

“Should I live like you,” I said out of anger.  “You don’t live, Knight Marus.  Life isn’t as serious as you make it out to be.  It’s fun, and exciting.  Sure, there are tough times, but if all you focus on is the bad, you’ll never be happy.” 

The old shaman didn’t look moved.  “You are young,” he said.  “And stupid.” 

Marus was a lot of things, but he was never belittling.  He must have been more upset than I had thought.

“We are facing grave times, Apoc,” he continued.  “If you continue to live in this fancy free life style of yours, you will get yourself killed.  Then the world will fall to darkness.  We all depend on you.  I do not believe that you truly understand the burden that you bear.  You cannot live a normal life.  I am sorry for this, but it is what it is.  You are right; life should be a wonder.  It is the greatest gift the Creator gave us, but for some, like you and I, we must sacrifice that gift so that others may enjoy theirs.  You will learn to find joy in that sacrifice, too.”

I had heard the speech a million times.  It was losing its effect.  Colly was still cuddling with my cheek.  She let her magic flow into me.  It was love.  All she knew was love.  She shared that love openly.  She wanted me to feel it.  It was hard to keep the scolded look on my face with her wonderful magic flowing through me.  Knight Marus’ speech was having even less effect on me because of it.

I looked up, in the best humbled face I could pull.  “I’m sorry, Marus.  You’re right.  I’ll try to take my training more seriously from now on.  Don’t be mad at Colly.  She doesn’t understand.  She just wants me to be happy.”

The big man just sighed.  “I am not mad at Colly, son.  I am glad that she is so protective of you.  She has saved your life many times.  I would not ban her from our training sessions if she could stay out of the fight.”  He shot Columbine a glare.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw her wings wilt.  “But we must be able to complete our training sessions.   There will be times when you are knocked down in battle.  There will be times when you are knocked senseless.  You need to practice responding, even under those circumstances.  I love you, son.  I do not want this calling to take your life.”

“I know, Marus,” I said.  I no longer had to force the humbled look.  “Sometimes I worry I won’t be enough.  I worry I won’t be able to live up to the prophecy.”

Marus walked over to me, and placed a meaty hand on my shoulder.  “I know, son.  I know.  That is why we train so hard.  I cannot help you in the last battle.  The prophecy says that you will fight it on your own.  The only way I can be there for you is by what we do here, in our training sessions.  It is my prayer that these sessions will make you ready for that fateful moment.”

The big man embraced me like a father.  I never knew my father, but with Marus around I never missed him.  I had been raised by him, and Columbine.  I couldn’t imagine a boy having more loving parents.

“Now,” he said as we separated.  “I think it really is time for supper.”

With that, we hiked our way down through the foothills, away from the great mountains, to the village.

Dragon Sight Chapter 1

     I just realized I haven't posted any chapters from my first two books.  When I was writing them, I had an open blog and just posted everything, but now that's a private blog.  So, I decided to share the first chapter of book 1.  Book 1 and book 1 run in a congruent timeline, so either can be first.  Most people seem to like Dragon Sight being first, so here's chapter 1.

Chapter 1

The cool air moved uneasily as the first drops began to fall.  I could hear the rain plinking softly on the tin stable roof a hundred feet above my head for several seconds before the drizzle finally found its way to the ground. A few seconds more, and the light spring air had turned into a heavy downpour. I paused at my work and leaned on my shovel to enjoy the refreshing shower.  The stable was a large “U” shape, and I stood in the center of the “U” exposed to the cool drops.  The water washed away the thick smell of dragon excrement, which always hung heavily in the air around the stables.  Hot steam radiated from my overworked body as the cool water rinsed the accumulated filth from my tattered clothes. I had to smile to myself.

Dressed in only a tattered shirt and a pair of paints which had more holes than fabric, I felt the pelting rain all over my mostly exposed skin.  I loved the rain.  The animals hated it. They danced nervously in their stalls, grunting their disapproval.

With each drop came a sound.  Those sounds gave me a chance to “see”, a rare occurrence, indeed.  Water pelted long necks swaying back and forth, gigantic heads looking this way and that.  The raindrops hit the dragons’ thick hides, sending sound reverberations to my sensitive ears.  Part of my job was to wash those dragons, so I was familiar with their bodies.  I knew every scale, every horn, every scar, but it was nice to hear the rain hitting them and confirming what my hands had felt.

I wasn’t born blind.  I was a toddler, not quite two years of age, when the Dark Clan attacked and I lost my eyes.  It was a raid.  The Dark Clan’s riders appeared out of the pitch black sky, and wreaked havoc on our kingdom only to disappear into the nothingness from which they emerged.  Raids weren’t all that uncommon in the boarder villages, but we lived in the King’s city, right in the middle of Gogaloth, where we had only suffered one other raid in history. Mother tells me that the fire was too thick for her to rescue me from my crib. Such thick, black, choking smoke… It was a miracle that I didn’t suffocate.  My young eyes were burnt by the ashes, and forever closed.  At Seventeen, and having delt with it all my life, I have become accustomed to my world of darkness.  I still wish I had, at least, one memory of sight; a color or face… Alas, there is nothing but darkness.

I shook my head at the bad memory.  I wanted to enjoy the rain, not wallow in self pity.  After all, on a night like this I could “see” better than anyone.  I don’t know exactly when it happened, but at some point sound became my world of sight.  Each noise tells me how far away things are, and the echoes give me a feel for dimensions.  I count steps everywhere I go to judge distances and memorize paths, and I feel the faces of the people I meet so that I get an idea of what they look like.  With the downpour, there’s a chorus of sound describing the world around me in a way that I can understand.  

Leaning on my shovel, and still panting from the heavy work of mucking out the dragon stables, I begin to daydream.  I’m the Rider of Acaba, the prophesied hero of the people.  I’m soaring through the air atop one of the king dragons, a dragon rider army behind me. The Dark Clan has us surrounded.  Someone calls out a battle cry and we rush to attack…

“Calitharious!”

I almost fall off my shovel.  I quickly caught myself, and turn to face my screaming father with my head hanging low.  He’d caught me in another daydream.  My cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“I’ve been calling for you for the last twenty minutes.  Is this how you spend your time at the stables?  It’s no wonder Lycons has been complaining about having a blind boy for a stable hand.”

The burning in my cheeks spread to my gut.  I felt my bottom lip start to quiver against my greatest efforts to suppress it.  I turned away to hide my embarrassment.

“Cal, I’m sorry, son.  I didn’t mean that.”

I felt his calloused hand on my shoulder. I pulled away.  I was once again just the blind stable-boy, good for nothing more than to keep the stables from overflowing with dragon dung.  I could never become the Rider of Acaba.  I could never be anything worthwhile.

With all the indignation I could muster, I yelled, “I’d like to see you get around ten-thousand pound monsters with your eyes closed without getting trampled!”

Too embarrassed to even wait for my father’s response, I turned and ran.

The heavy rain pounded on my head and shoulders as I ran across the field beyond the stables.  Father’s faint voice called from behind me, but the thunderous rain on my head deafened my ears from any distinguishable words.  At one hundred and forty-seven paces, I reached the forest.

I didn’t often enter the woods because the forest floor was always changing, and I hated the scrapes and bruises I’d get from trips and falls, but I pressed forward.

The trees shielded me from the rain as I pushed deeper into their oppressive embrace.  This forest was old.  The new moisture made the air thick with the aroma of rotting deadwood and fungus.  I sprinted onward.  I was gasping air with some difficulty by this point, but my tormented mind made my body seem numb.  It was dangerous to be running at break-neck speeds through such thick woods…  Just as the thought hit me, I felt a sharp piercing blow from a broken branch on my right temple which sent me sprawling to the ground where I was met with another blow to my forehead.  The world spun to oblivion.

When I awoke, I heard birds greeting the warm morning sun.  I sat up, but the world started turning too fast for my liking.  I had to brace myself against the ground to keep from falling over.  My entire face felt dry and sticky. Still a little confused, I touched my cheek; it was caked in a syrup-like substance.  Memory of the injuries came flooding back into my muddled mind.

“My father was right,” I mumbled to myself.  “I am a useless blind boy.”

I felt around and found the rock which had struck my forehead.  It had a long sharp ridge across the top.  I tenderly felt around the pulsating painful spot on my forehead only to find what I already knew to be there; a two-inch gash from eyebrow to hairline, another scar to mar my already hashed face.

The sound of the rushing river nearby told me that I had run farther into the woods than I originally thought.

“A whole quarter mile,” I said out loud, just to hear it.  I began to smile.   “Most boys couldn’t do that with both eyes wide open in these woods.”

“I’d be impressed too, cept I can see da bloody mess dat ya are,” came a response.

My stomach turned.

“Who’s there,” I asked tentatively, trying to back away from the voice.

“Relax, lad.  I mean ya no harm,” the gruff voice responded.

Still trying to scoot away from him, I asked, “Who are you?”

My mind started racing.  Gogaloth was full of dangerous people, and I didn’t know how to defend myself, even if I had the use of my eyes.  He didn’t sound treacherous, but his accent was foreign.  I could recognize the heavy tongues of the other two kingdoms, but his wasn’t from either.

I heard the man stand up.  The gravel crunched under his feet as he approached me.  “Let’s just say a friend, fer now.”

I made a sour face at his obtuse answer, but he kept shuffling towards me.  Without warning, a meaty hand prodded the open wound on my forehead.

“Ouch! Don’t touch it!  It hurts,” I shouted, trying to scoot farther away from him on my bottom. The roughness of his hands led me to believe they were dirty, too.  He was probably just some beggar hoping to get a handout for helping me.

“Now, lad, ya gonna bleed ta death if’n ya don’a treat dem holes,” the strange man said.

“I have a doctor to treat me.  I don’t need your help,” I grumbled, as I stopped trying to scoot away.  I wasn’t in any mood to put up with more people helping the poor blind kid, especially some beggar.

The old man seemed undeterred.  “Now, ya listen good; I didn’a sit up here all night fer nottin.  Hold still an’ I’ll fix ya up real nice-like, den ya can go ta dat palace o’yer’s an’ let dat no-good doctor mess up da fine work dat I’ll do on ya.”

Now I knew the old man was deluded.  I was obviously not royalty.  Even an entire night’s worth of rain couldn’t wash the stench of dragon dung off me.

Unless he knew…

It wasn’t exactly a secret that mother had been stripped of her title when she married Father, but he’d have to be a Gogalothian to know Mother, and his accent was not from anywhere in Gogaloth.  And, he’d have to know me personally to recognize me for my mother’s son.  Perhaps gossip of the crowned princess of Gogaloth being disinherited had reached beyond the three free kingdoms.

I pushed his prodding hands away again.  “I didn’t ask for you to sit up all night waiting to mend me.  I can take care of myself.  I don’t need your help.”

The man cursed under his breath, and stood up.  I heard shuffling which sounded as if he were stuffing things into a bag.  He grumbled some inaudible phrases to himself as he worked.  The only words I could decipher were curse words.

“Look,” I said.  “I’m sure that my parents are looking for me.  I’m not trying to be rude, I just need to get going.”  There was no answer, just more shuffling.  “I do appreciate your kindness for watching over me…”

Just then, I felt the powerful swoosh of air from a dragon’s wings as it took off.  A dragon!  How in the world did he have a dragon?  Only royals and riders had dragons.  Maybe he wasn’t a beggar.  I was left alone to wonder about him.

A fresh stream of blood was trickling from the wound because of the old man’s rough touch.  I had to put off thoughts of the strange encounter for the time and treat my injuries.  I stood on unsteady legs and made my way towards the sound of the river.  My head was spinning, adding to the difficulty of navigating in the unfamiliar terrain.

“Twenty-seven, twenty-eight…”

As I bumbled my way across the rocky ground towards the sound of flowing water, it occurred to me how small my world had been.  I knew every cobblestone, rock, hill, bump, and smooth spot within a quarter mile of my home… but little else.  I was unerring in my little world, but here my feet didn’t know their way.

I finally reached the river at fourty-seven paces.  It was a small accomplishment, but it lifted my spirits a bit.  I knelt at the bank, scooped water up with cupped palms, and gently poured it across my face.  It burned as it ran across the gaping holes in my head.  Being early spring, the stream was still icy cold.  After five or ten minutes I couldn’t stand to dip my hands in the freezing water anymore, so I tore what was left of my raggedy old shirt and made a crude bandage to wrap my head.  I didn’t remember crossing the river, so I figured I was still on the east side of it.  All I had to do was follow the warmth of the rising sun until I was out of the woods and back on familiar ground.

The journey back was not as smooth, or lucky, as my flight into the woods had been.  Every few seconds I felt a sharp branch drag across my now exposed arms and chest, and I must have bloodied my shins half a dozen times on rock outcroppings before I made it out of the thick trees.  Following the sun proved to be a trying task as well because the trees were so thick that light only dashed intermittently through small openings in the forest canopy.  At times I had to wander around in little circles in the shade of the great oaks and cedars.

If I wasn’t so distraught I might have stopped to enjoy the sweet musky smell of the cedars, but the pleasant aroma only served as a distraction as my nose frantically tried to sniff out the pungent smell of the stables.  After about an hour, I finally broke through the tree line.  I had lost track of how many paces I’d taken twenty minutes prior, so I wasn’t sure, exactly, where I emerged from the wood.  The dank smell of the forest was replaced with the familiar smell of dragon.  I followed the stink in a stupor, abandoning my habitual counting.

Feeling more at ease on familiar ground, my mind slowly wandered to my father.  I felt bad for not hearing him out, and started thinking about how I would apologize.  Once I reached a road, my feet took over walking as I fell into the familiar path to my home.  The counting started again, but it was just background noise to my thoughts.  Before I knew it, I was home.

I leaned against the old wooden door to my house.  It gave way with a familiar creak, welcoming me home.  Mother gasped from the other side of the room as I entered the Main Room.

“Oh, my son,” she exclaimed.

I must have been a sight to see; bashed, bleeding all over, and dirty to the bone.

Before I could take a step into the house, Mother was there.  She seemed to scoop me up into her arms, though I was a good foot taller than her.  I guessed I would always be her baby.  I felt her tears on my naked shoulder.  The salt burned as they ran across the small scrapes I had sustained from the pine trees.

“I’m okay,” I said as I managed to free my arms enough to hug her back.  “I just ran into a tree branch, and I think I hit my head on a rock.”  She started to sob even louder.  “Are you okay, Mother?”

“Son, there was an attack…”

My senses suddenly came alive for the first time since my return.  The ashes from the fires hung heavily on the air.  The smell of burnt sulfur only dragon’s fire could produce, was burning my nostrils.  Why hadn’t I notice it sooner?

“But it was raining last night,” I said pleadingly.  “There couldn’t have been an attack last night.  It was raining!  It had to have been too dark for riders.”

“It was just like the night when you lost your eyes, Cal.  There were no warnings,” she spluttered between sobs.  “We couldn’t even see where the fire balls were coming from to defend ourselves.”

My stomach turned and tightened.  I managed to choke out the words, “What’s happened?  Where’s dad?”  My mother sobbed even louder.  “Mom…Is he…?”

“I don’t know,” she said, composing herself and releasing me from her vice-like grip.  “The town is a mess…  He never came home… You never came home… I didn’t know what to do!”

She let out a deep calming breath, and then started again, “We heard the first blasts, and he ran to the stables to get you.  We thought it was a dragon in training gone mad.  No one expected an attack on a night like last night.”  Her voice trailed off.

I had to calm myself to think.  How could I have not heard a blast of dragon breath?  Dragons whelp as the fire ignites on their tongues, and the boom as the flame is blown out of their mouths is deafening.  I couldn’t imagine how it could have eluded my finely tuned ears.  It must have been the rain on the stable roof.  I must have been completely in another world with my daydreaming.  I must have…  Why did I let myself go to my silly daydreams?  I should have heard them.  I should have known.

“He came to the stables, and was yelling at me,” I said in a stupor.  “He called me a blind stable hand.  I got mad at him and yelled something back then ran to the woods.  I think he tried to follow me, but I’m not sure.  I yelled at him, Mother… he can’t be gone.  I have to tell him I’m sorry.  I have to apologize, I have to…”  My mother threw her arms around me, and the tears got the better of me.  Together, we sobbed for what seemed like an eternity.

Tears spent, we decided to go looking for Father.  Mother suggested that he might be in the woods looking for me, but something inside me told me that wasn’t so.  She quickly gathered three family friends to help search the woods for him, and then she and I started asking around town if anyone had seen him.

The town guards were busy taking care of the injured and organizing people to rebuild the walls.  We couldn’t rally any more help in our search.  Mother was asking everyone we knew, everyone except the person I felt we should ask the most: The King.  The King would have an army to find him.  At the very least if he asked townspeople to help they’d listen to him.

The King was my grandfather, but he disinherited my mother when she married Father, so I had never met him.  Mother always said I would never be safe around any royalty because of the prophecy.  The King resented that my birth had almost caused a war between Gogaloth and the other two kingdoms.

That prophecy… I might have been a normal kid without it.

Dangerous or not, I had to see the King.  We needed his help. While my mother was busy talking to some of the guards, I slipped away.  I pushed through the crowd towards the palace.

The main cobble stone path to the castle was unfamiliar to my feet, and the bustle of the town made my commute impossible.

“One hundred and fourty-five, one hundred and fourty… Ouch!”

People were bumping into me, and pushing me around until I could no longer tell which way I was supposed to go.  Finally, someone took hold of my hand, and pulled me off the street to a less crowded alleyway.

“Are you crazy Cal,” she said.  I recognized the voice immediately as my mother’s dearest friend Eliza.  I reached up to feel her face, just to be sure.  “You’re going to get yourself killed in this mob.  The town’s hoppin’ with movement from last night’s fireworks.  You best be getting yourself home before you get trampled.”

“Eliza, my father disappeared last night,” I explained. “I think he was looking for me.  We had a fight, and I ran into the woods.”

“So that’s how you banged yourself up so bad.”

I had forgotten about my blood-soaked shirt.  She took my head in her hands, and carefully peeled back the tattered material to inspect my cuts.

“You need stitches,” she announced.  Then she took my hand again, and started pulling me deeper into the ally.  “Afterward, I can help you go lookin’ for him.  Let’s get you inside and look at those wounds.”

I dug in my heels.  “No,” I yelled.  “I need to make it to the King.  He can help.  Three people aren’t going to find one man in all this mess, especially if one of them is blind!”

Eliza gasped in shock.  It was the one advantage to my disability, I could always count on people feeling sorry for me and doing what I wanted when I brought it up.

There was a long silence.  I finally added, “Are you going to help me through the town, or do I have to do it on my own?”

Eliza was silent for a moment longer before replying, in her kindly manner, “Well, I don’t think it’ll help, but I love your father and mother too much not to try.” We switched directions, and she pulled me hurriedly through the crowded street.

“Three hundred and eighty-seven, three hundred and eighty-eight…”

We walked for what seemed like hours, but really couldn’t have been more than twenty or thirty minutes.  The whole way, the last conversation I’d had with my father was playing over and over in my head.  I wished I had at least heard him out.  I wished I had heard the attack.  I wished so many things, but wishing didn’t change what happened.

The closer we got to the palace, the fewer people were bumping into me.  My aching toes were grateful when we finally reached a point where they were no longer being stomped on by clumsy passersby.  Occasionally, we had to check in at guard posts as we passed through walled off layers of the king’s city.  I’d restart counting at each checkpoint.  After passing a final guards’ checkpoint at the palace’s outer wall, I could hear only Eliza’s soft-soled shoes briskly scraping against the cobblestone in rhythm with her stride.  I, of course, walked silently after years of practicing the art.  It made it easier to tell where others were if my own footsteps weren’t confusing me.  The courtyard was immense, and it took some traversing before I felt the tall edifice block out the warmth from sun above us.

“One thousand seven hundred and ninety-six…”

We stopped abruptly, and Eliza announced, “Cal is here to see his grandfather, the King, on most urgent business.”

A deep voice from one of the door guards answered, “No one can have audience with the King at a time like this, not even his grandson.”

“He will see me,” I exclaimed.  The power in my voice surprised me.  I took a step in the direction of the guard’s voice, hoping that he hadn’t moved.  “And I would hate to be in your shoes if he found out that you tried to deny me audience with him!”

The guard stuttered a bit as he replied, “But I… he…”  He thought a moment then continued, “I’ll announce you at once, Your Highness.”

It took me a minute to realize he was addressing me.  Once, a small boy had called me ‘sir’ when he was asking for directions, but ‘Your Highness’.  I couldn’t help but raise my head and stick out my chest a bit.  The guard’s metal armor clanked as he turned and walked three paces.  I heard a loud creak as some great doors opened.  I followed quickly after the guard when I heard the clinking of his armored boots as he entered into the palace’s greeting hall.

The hall was enormous.  Sounds were lost as they traversed the vast opening, and returned as muffled echoes.  It was disorienting.  The ground was a smooth stone, probably marble.  After a five brisk paces, we reached a soft carpet, and I tripped on some stairs.  The guard must not have realized I was blind.  He stumbled about, trying to help me to my feet.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness.  I had heard rumors, but I didn’t know for sure.  Please forgive me,” he begged, as I finally found my feet.

What little dignity I had felt seconds earlier was replaced by the humiliation I was so accustomed to.  “It’s okay; just get me to my grandfather, please.”

We traversed through hallways ranging from twenty to thrity paces, formal rooms, fourty paces long, less formal rooms, twenty paces long, and all sorts of other rooms before the guard came to a halt.  He announced me to another set of door guards, and after some worried whispers back-and-forth the large doors to what they called “the War Room” were opened.  It was only then that I realized Eliza was not permitted in with me.  I would have to face the man my mother and father had taught me to fear, all alone.

Prelude to War

     I've posted as many chapters as I'm going to post from my book.  So, on my my writing days, I will try to share something I've learned that day from what I've written.  

     Today I was writing about Apoc trying to get Erai back.  It's been difficult because I wanted to make this a turning point for their relationship.  It made me think of how difficult love can be.  Even if things are going perfectly, it seems like there is always something trying to make things difficult for the couple.  I'm sure all of you can relate to this.  The relationship may be perfect, but it seems like the couple has to stand together against the universe.  I think there is a force out there that does this on purpose to make the couple bond.  I know a lot of cynics out there think that it's all in the young lover's head, but everyone seems to experience this. 

     I know that my wife and I have had our share of ups and downs, but all of the challenges have only brought us closer together.  It doesn't even have to be drama, or fake stuff.  When you find your significant other, your lives become intertwined.  You begin to take on one another's trials.  You share your lives.  There are twice the problems, but the two of you get to face them together.  This builds depth in both of their lives, and it also brings them closer together.

     It's my hope, as I'm writing, to be able to recreate this with my fictional characters.  I want to make people feel their love, make it real.  

The Shepherd

     Last year, I wrote a short story for Christmas.  My family loved it, and the post had a few thousand hits, so I thought I'd make it a tradition.  I wrote this today, and will read it to my family tomorrow.  It's not edited, but her you go.  I hope you enjoy it.

The Shepherd Who Wouldn’t Leave His Flock

There are two types of shepherds in the world.  One has a flock of sheep, small or large, which are his.  He owns them.  He raises them and watches over them as they graze.  He sheers them, sells their wool, and benefits fully from the sweat of his brow.  The second type of shepherd helps the first type.  He watches other people’s sheep.  No one can look after their sheep every second of every day and night, so other shepherds are recruited to fill in. 

Sadly, this second type of shepherd most often is hired by wealthy men who are not shepherds, at all.  In fact, most of these men have never even laid eyes on their flocks.  All they care about is the money that the wool and meat will fetch at the market.  These men can be cruel and unforgiving.  Because they know nothing of what it means to be a shepherd, they often ask for the impossible.  The second type of shepherd would rather work for the first type, but a shepherd is the humblest of professions, and a man without money to buy his own flock must take work where he can find it.  Thus it was with John.

John was born the son of a shepherd.  His father had taken John with him as he watched over the master’s sheep, and taught John everything there was to know about shepherding.  His father had a problem with strong drink, and most of their meager wages went towards feeding that insatiable thirst.  John’s mother had died in childbirth, and most people said that John’s father drank to forget his pain and loneliness. 

As a young boy, John would often find himself alone, at home, way past suppertime.  There was a kind couple down the path a way who would take him in on those nights.  The woman would click her tongue when she saw John walking down the path towards their humble home, and ask, “Your father’s out drinking again, is he?”  John would just nod, and she’d say, “Well, come in and get yourself a bowl.  I’ve made too much soup as it is.  You can just help us eat it so it doesn’t go to waste.”  John couldn’t remember how the relationship had begun.  For as long as he could remember he’d walked down that path to the neighbors to eat supper when his father didn’t return home at night.

Those were actually the good memories he had from his childhood.  As an adult, he knew just how angelic that old couple was to take in the hungry, motherless son of a poor shepherd who drank too much.  He was certain that the woman began making extra soup every night just on the chance that he would show up at their door.  John made it a habit to pray for the couple’s souls every night in his private prayers.  The couple had long ago passed away, as had Johns father.  The latter having drunk himself to a grave long before his time.  John was left alone in the world with nothing to his name but the knowledge of shepherding his father had passed down.

At first, life was very hard.  Most young men had letters of introduction, or at the very least, their parents took them to an employer to work out terms of employment.  John had no recommendation.  The master his father had worked for had thought that John would turn out to be a drunkard like his father, and had refused to employ him. 

For months, John looked for work as a shepherd.  In the end, he had resorted to begging for his meals.  Begging had almost become his permanent profession until one day he overheard some men speaking about needing a few shepherds for a new landlord who had just bought a large track of land outside of town.  The man was wealthy and lived in another city, but wanted to try his hand in the wool business.  The herd was being shepherded to the lush hills outside of town as the men spoke, and they were in dire need of shepherds.  Apparently, they had wasted the time allotted to them to find shepherds, and now they had less than a day to hire men to do the job.

Both men were dubious when John had offered his services.  By that point, his clothes had become rags, and he was as dirty as the road he was standing on.  Luckily, the men were desperate enough to hire him.  The terms were not fair for a man as well versed at shepherding as John was, but they were generous for a man who looked as desperate as he looked.

John remembered the first meal he was able to buy for himself.  He didn’t think food could ever taste so good.  He worked for four years for the master, and never once met the man.  That was fine by John.  He’d lived most of his life alone.  The company of the sheep was enough.  The flock was large by anyone’s standards.  John worked in tandem with five other shepherds.  There were always two on duty, and the six would rotate shifts.  He slept on the master’s land when he wasn’t working, and spent as little money as he could, saving the rest to buy a place and maybe even a flock of his own someday.

Life was going well until a fateful night robbed John of what little he had left.  One of the many occupational hazards of a shepherd is thieves.  John was watching the sheep when ten horsemen came galloping over the hills on the other side of the massive flock.  The sheep panicked and started to stampede towards John.  Annoyed, John did his best to contain the flock.  Isaac, the other shepherd on duty, was on the side of the approaching horseman.  He rose to meet the horseman, and ask them to ride around so as to not frighten the flock.  In a flash, metal cleared the scabbard of the closest horseman, and he cut down Isaac without a word. 

John’s mood quickly switched from annoyed to panic.  He turned to run, but remembered his life of poverty, and decided it would be better to stay and fight than return to that life.  That decision would forever change his life.  The men didn’t kill John.  They decided, instead, to make sport of him.  He lost a hand and a leg.

The master was so angry with the shepherds for losing his flock that he fired them all.  John had to use all the money he had saved to pay the physician who saved his life.  He found himself once again with no money, no job, and now he was a cripple.  On the bright side, he thought that maybe now he would make a better beggar.

The life of a beggar was not to be, though, as one of the other shepherds had saved enough money to buy a small flock of his own.  The man’s name was Jacob, and he was the only friend John had.  Jacob knew that John was a good shepherd, and invited him to move with him to his birth town of Bethlehem to help watch his small flock.

At first, John didn’t want to take the job.  He was afraid of letting Jacob down.  He didn’t know how much help he could be, missing a leg and a hand, but he decided he’d better not let the opportunity pass.  Jacob bought the sheep in the city Be-er Sheva, and the two herded the small flock the fifty miles to Bethlehem.  It was always better to move sheep far from where they were raised so that none would return to their old home.  The trip served to prove John could still be a shepherd. 

Walking with a crutch was a horrible thing, so John used his staff instead.  He had lost his left hand and right leg.  He tried several different ways of walking, but found that he was able to counter balance his weight as he used the staff as a surrogate leg.  The fifty mile trek to their new home in Bethlehem gave him plenty of practice, but he still grew tired easily, and could not walk nearly as fast as Jacob.  Jacob was sympathetic of his plight, and slowed the flock to match John’s pace.  The journey took twice as long as it should have, but at long last they made it to Bethlehem.

John had never been so far from home.  Home.  That was a funny concept.  John had never felt at home anywhere.  He had a roof over his head as a child, but it wasn’t a home.  He had no roof as an adult, and it wasn’t a home.  He didn’t know what home was.  He was comfortable around Jacob.  But John worried what would happen when Jacob found a woman and decided to marry.  John had no more dreams of saving money to buy his own flock, let alone a plot of land to build a house.  He had worked four years for a rich master, and had barely saved half the money it would take to do such grandiose things.  Working for Jacob would mean survival.  John would be indebted to the man just for his meals.  He knew that the small flock would scarcely fetch enough to feed the two, so John would be working for his meals only.  No, he would never know what home was.

Bethlehem was not like Be-er Sheva.  The local magistrate, King Herod, was a controlling man.  He wouldn’t let shepherds own land, but he recognized the importance of their work so he allowed all the shepherds to share the grazing lands around the city.  John couldn’t imagine such an arrangement.  Shepherds in Be-er Sheva fought over grazing lands, and they owned the land.  He couldn’t imagine what kind of disputes would arise when nobody owned the land.  Jacob assured him that the shepherds were quite civil, but John had a hard time believing it.

His first day of work proved to be difficult.  Walking in a straight line towards a city was one thing.  Keeping track of sheep, and trying to coral them was another.  He had to track down two lost sheep on his first day; one had fallen in a gully, John had no idea how he would get it out without falling in, himself.  Luckily, Jacob was right about the other shepherds.  One of the other men saw his predicament, and rushed to help.  In fact, all of the other shepherds were nice.  The sheep intermingled, and the shepherds knew their sheep well, and the sheep knew them.  When it was time to move a flock, each shepherd had his own call, and all of his sheep would follow him to their new grazing spot.  John was a bit embarrassed that he couldn’t tell his sheep from the others, but the other shepherds were kind, and helped sort them out when they intermingled.  When the sheep were grazing, the shepherds often gathered to talk and share gossip.  John made many friends among the shepherds.  They all held him in high regard for being willing to lay down his life to protect his flock.  He felt a sense of brotherhood he’d never felt before.

Caesar Augustas declared that a census be taken every fourteen years, and the year John and Jacob came to Bethlehem happened to fall on a census year.  The Jewish custom was for everyone to return to their lands of birth to have this census taken, so that families could be counted together.  John had no family, so he saw no need to return to Be-er Sheva.  He’d been living in Bethlehem for a few months now, and counted it as much of a home as any he’d lived in.  The town was flooded with new-comers, which meant plenty of gossip to be shared by the shepherds.  It was a good time for John and his new-found brotherhood.

John thought that it might be fun to go into town and see if he could pick up any tales of faraway lands.  He worked the night watch, so his day was free.  It took him the better part of the morning to get into town.  As he was hobbling through the streets on his one good leg, using his shepherd’s staff as a surrogate leg, a wagon too wide for the small street, and traveling too fast, barreled down on the poor shepherd.  John did his best to get out of the way, but the wagon wheel’s hub clipped his good hip, knocking him to the ground, and bruising his hip deeply.  John could barely stand afterward.  The wagon’s driver didn’t even turn to see if he was okay.  A few of the town’s people helped him to his feet, but once standing, he was left to fend for himself. 

The journey back to the grazing fields was a few miles away, and Johns hip was throbbing with pain before he even made it out of the city.  By the time he made it back to the flock, his shift had long since started.  Jacob was annoyed, but when he saw how bad John was injured, his fury quickly changed to concern.  All of the shepherds on the hill that night gathered around John as Jacob inspected his hip.

As the men were fussing over John, the night suddenly became bright.  The shepherds looked around in awe.  It was long past sunset, but the sky was as bright as day.  They looked up and saw the source of the light.  John could just make out the silhouette of a man, but it was like trying to look at the sun.  He was suddenly overwhelmed with fear.  What was happening?  He turned away from the man at the center of the light, feeling insignificant and unworthy to be around such a person.

The man at the center of the light spoke, “Fear not.”

John was definitely afraid, but the voice of the man soothed him to the very core.  When he looked upon the man again, the light did not burn his eyes as much.  The man radiated like the sun, but the light was more than just light.  The light was warm, and soothing.  It was a feeling John had never felt before.  If he had to guess, he would say that this was what love felt like.

“I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people,” the man said.  John knew, even with his limited knowledge of the gospel that this must be a messenger of the lord.  An angel of God!  “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.  And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.”

A Savior!  John had gone to Hebrew school when he was young, but he never finished.  His father’s fading health meant more work for John, so he took to filling in for his father instead of going to school.  He knew that a Savior was to be born to free His people, but he couldn’t remember much more about this Savior.

As John was contemplating the wondrous news from the angel, the sky was suddenly filled with them.  They were singing!  At first John was so overwhelmed by the beauty of the sound of thousands of angelic voices that he couldn’t comprehend the words.

As the angelic choir sang their chorus for the third time, John heard the words, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

The lights in the heavens slowly dimmed and the stars were shining once again on the lowliest of all men, the shepherds of the fields.  John noticed a new star shining brighter than the rest.  The star seemed to be stationed directly above Bethlehem, like a beacon shinning the way to this Savior child.

The shepherds were quick to agree that they must leave at once to see this marvelous babe.  John attempted to stand, but his injured hip prevented him from doing so.  His stomach sank to his knees as he realized he could not make the journey back to the city.  The other shepherds stopped and tried to help him to his feet, but John stopped them and said, “You go.  I’ll never be able to make the trip with this injury.  Besides, someone has to stay and watch the sheep.” 

Reluctantly, the shepherds all agreed to let John stay and tend to their flocks.  Jacob turned one last time and gave John a sad smile, and then disappeared into the night.  As he vanished into the night, John felt a warm tear scroll down his face.  He wasn’t mad at his predicament, just sad that he would miss chance to see this Savior child for himself.

Several months passed since that fateful night, almost two years, in fact.  John had tried to go to see the babe days later when he could walk again, but the young couple had left the manger and were nowhere to be found.  His brother-shepherds had told him all about the child.  They were in reverenced awe as they looked upon the babe.  His mother was more beautiful than any of them could describe, and they said she was a virgin; that the child was the son of God, himself.  John was so happy that his new friends had had the opportunity to see the babe.  He supposed he’d had a part in that by watching their flocks so that they could go.  He wasn’t jealous of them, but he was sad he’d missed the opportunity.

As he was thinking about the babe one morning on his hill, a young couple came hastily from the city, carrying a baby.  They were running from something, and the fear was painted painfully upon their faces.

“What’s going on,” John asked.

“The King’s gone crazy,” the man said.

“He’s killing all the children under the age of two,” the woman added, with tears streaming down her face.

John couldn’t believe that King Harod would do such a thing, but at the same time, he couldn’t doubt the fear the young couple were displaying.  John showed the young couple the safest way out of the land, where no guards would be posted to stop them, and then he hurried back to the city.

When he arrived in the city, there were guards everywhere.  They were bursting into people’s houses, and to John’s horror, they were, in fact, killing all of the babies.  John saw several young mothers trying to flee with their children.  He was able to gather a few, and smuggle them out of the city and out of the land through the fields he knew so well.

 When John returned again to the city, the sun had long ago set.  He desperately went looking for more families to save.  The guards had made quick work of the gruesome task, and it was obvious that no other women would be running with small precious bundles in their arms.

John, felt sick.  He could only save half a dozen little ones.  He thought of the hundreds of other broken families left to morn their loss.  Such promising futures destroyed in moments.  He wondered if the Savior child was among those slain babes.  As he hobbled back to his hill, he heard a cry from the bushes.  John rushed over to find a young mother trying desperately to hush her young baby.  She looked at him with sheer terror in her eyes.

“I’m here to help you,” John said, as he slowly approached the young mother.  “There are ways out of the land where the guards will not be looking for you.”

The mother looked like she wanted to jump into his arms for comfort, and at the same time, like she wanted to run for her life.  He had never seen such raw terror in someone’s eyes before.

“I will help you escape this land.  I’m a shepherd.  I know the area,” John reassured her.  “Follow me, I’ll show you the way.”

The mother cried as relief washed over her face.  “Thank you! Bless you! Thank you! Thank you,” she uttered over and over.

John rushed as fast as his crippled body would carry him across the fields with the young mother in tow.  When they had reached the edge of the lands controlled by Harod, John heard the approaching hooves of horses.

“Oh no,” he exclaimed.  “They’re coming this way.”

The young mother shrieked in terror as she started to run.  John yelled after her, “There’s a gully ahead, if you can make it there, jump in and turn left.  The soldiers shouldn’t be able to find you.  I’ll try to slow them down.”

He didn’t know if the woman heard him or not, but he hoped that even if she didn’t, he could stall the soldiers long enough to allow her to disappear.  The sun was beginning to rise, and the soldiers would have to look into it to find her.  It would make the task that much more onerous.

John was exhausted.  He couldn’t walk anymore.  He’d been awake all night for his watch, then all day and half the next night helping the first group of young families escape, and the rest of the night running with the last young mother.  His knee was quivering under his weight, and his good arm could scarcely grip his shepherd’s staff.

When he looked up, six armed soldiers had formed a semi-circle in front of him with their horses.  “What can I do for you gentleman,” John asked, trying to hide the fear in his voice.

“That’s the man,” one of the soldiers said, pointing at John with his spear.  “He’s the one I saw trying to hide young babies.”

“I don’t know what you’re…”

“No use lying, shepherd.  There aren’t many one legged, one hand shepherds around,” the captain of the guards said.  “Where are the babies?”

“I assure you, captain, I have no babies.  No woman would want a crippled shepherd for a husband,” John said.

The captain had his sword out.  Before John could think to respond he saw the sword rushing towards his head.  John scrunched his eyes shut and braced for impact.

He never felt the impact.  He tentatively opened one eye, and then the other.  It was much brighter outside.  So bright he couldn’t see very well.  There was a man in front of him, but John’s eyes were still trying to adjust to the bright light.

“This is the man.  The shepherd who wouldn’t leave his flock,” the man said.

John was feeling warm.  He remembered the feeling.  It was the same feeling he’d felt when the angel had visited them in the field.  When he looked at the man again, he recognized him as the same angel who announced The Savior’s birth.

Another voice, deep and soothing, said, “Come here, son.”

John looked over to see a man sitting upon a throne.  He was standing before the man before he even thought to walk over to him.

“My son,” the man said.

“Who are you,” John asked.  “Where am I?  What happened to the soldiers?  What happened to the mother and her baby?”

“The mother is fine.  You saved her and her child.  You saved many children, my son,” the man on the throne said.

“Dad? Is that you,” John asked.  Looking at the man was hard.  He shone brighter than the angel. 

The man laughed.  “I am your father, but not the man who raised you on earth.”

“What happened…”  John looked down and saw that he had his hand back.  He looked at his leg, and it was back in place, good as new.  John just stared at his leg, and then at his hand.

“You have saved my children.  You were a good shepherd; a shepherd who wouldn’t leave my flock to the wolves, and so you are with me again.”

“With you…”

With that, God stood and embraced John.  “Welcome home, son.”

John felt his father’s embraced, and for the first time he was home.

The Undecideds Chapt. 7

Chapter 7

                The council chamber was surprisingly full.  The room itself was enormous.  It had to be to accommodate any type of spirit beast might accompany the diverse council members.  White fluted columns held up a domed ceiling.  The room was built in a semicircle so that all present would be facing the Head Councilman.  In their case there were two, Saul and Claudia.  A few High Chancellors from the Angel’s Guild often sat behind the pulpit, along with a transcriber, and occasionally a delegate from one of the five major Guilds who was presenting a new law to be voted upon by the council.  Today, there were representatives from all factions of all the guilds.  Saul wondered why everyone decided to be here today.  There weren't any major laws being discussed, and none of the councilmen were presenting any new laws to the council that he knew of.  It was strange to see half this many council members on a day like today.  A flutter of worry tickled at his stomach that somehow everyone knew that the daughter of the two head council members had run away the day before.  He didn’t know how it could be so, but it seemed that everyone was watching him as though he were a bug in a box.

                Claudia was conducting herself as usual.  She didn't seem to be bothered in the least that everyone was in attendance.  The meeting had started as they all do.  Everyone announced themselves and which province they represented.  Of course, that part took longer than usual as there were four to five times more council members present than usual.  The council’s irrevocable law was stated and each representative gave their oath to uphold the time tested ideals on which the council was founded.

                After the last member gave their oath, Claudia began to move on to the issues placed before the council for that morning.  She was halfway through thanking everyone for being there when the head of the Demon Guild interrupted her.  “And what of the Head Councilwoman’s oath?”

                “Excuse me, Chairman Charrander?”

                “Excuse me for interrupting Madam Head Council Woman.  But shouldn't the heads of the council also give their oath, as all of us have,” the tenacious councilman said with an air of contempt.

                To her credit, Claudia didn’t even bat an eye.  She calmly stood, raised her arm to the square, and repeated the oath, “For peace, for love, for harmony, for all, I swear my oath to the laws of the ancients passed down through the generations to allow all to live in peace and harmony.” 

                As she lowered her arm, she looked meaningfully at Saul.  He immediately stood and gave his oath; staring down the Demon Guild’s chairman the whole time.  Saul’s angel didn’t like the man, nor his spirit beast, and she was not afraid to make it known.  The blue flame of justice ignited around her, and her flaming sword appeared in her hand. 

                Councilman Charrander was an older man.  His hair was gray, except for a small patch in front and to the left of his head, which was stark black in contrast to the rest of the thick, curly, neatly kept hair.  His spirit beast was a large demon.  Larger than most.  It stood about twenty feet tall, had goat legs with a humanoid torso, a long red tail which ended in a spade shape, two long horns made of flame protruded from the bull-like face of the creature, and bat wings with a twenty-foot wingspan.  His demon had a giant warhammer which could ignite with hellfire.  Neither the councilman, nor his beast reacted to Saul’s angel’s outburst.  Saul supposed they were used to seeing the female angel on the brink of battle when in their presence.  She had little tolerance for them.  It was easy for Saul to see why the ancient war burned on for centuries.  The opposing beasts could scarcely bear to be in the same room with one another.

                Claudia gave Saul a tight smile of appreciated and returned her gaze to the incorrigible councilman.  “Thank you, Councilman Charrander, for reminding us.  It is good for us all to remember the reason we are all here in peaceful talks and negotiations instead of in arms trying to destroy one another.”  Her lips smiled at the man, though her eyes did not. 

                Claudia addressed the rest of the council, “Now, there have been reports of bandits in the lands North of…”

                “So, do you mean to say that you truly do intend to keep all of the dictates of the ancient law,” the Demon Guild’s chairman interrupted again.  When Claudia looked at him, there was a hint of fire behind those kind blue eyes.  Her cheeks mantled a bit.  Councilman Charrander spread his arms out helplessly and said, “I mean, really?  No matter what?  You will obey all of the dictates of the old law, will you not?”

                Claudia took a calming breath.  “I have given my oath, along with every council member here.  I and my husband know better than most how important those dictates are, Councilman Charrander.  Perhaps if you had to solve every petty dispute between the different guilds, you too would understand that the law is irrevocable.  Those in ancient times came to the dictates of the law after centuries of war, death, and suffering.  I’m sure many of them signed the peace treaty standing next to those very men and women who had murdered a loved one.  You are mistaken if you believe I would waver on even the smallest point of the law.”  Her glare became cold as she locked eyes with the man.

                Again he held his arms out helplessly, “I wouldn’t dream of saying you wouldn’t, Madam Head Chairwoman.  And I can quite understand the difficulty you speak of.  Why, I have difficulty enough just trying to appease the different factions within my own guild.  I couldn’t begin to imagine how difficult it must be to uphold peace between overtly opposite guilds.”  It was all an act for the other council members, Saul knew, but the man had a silver tongue.  “I just mean to say, that there are times when upholding the law must be difficult.”

                “I cannot imagine a scenario where difficulty upholding the law would outweigh the pain and difficulty of returning to the savage days of war,” Claudia said, flatly.  By now, her angel was not sitting at ease behind her.  He too had materialized his weapons.  The sight of the silver trident and shield in the large male angel’s hand were enough to make the council members in the front row lean back to put some distance between themselves and the powerful spirit beast.  Unlike Saul’s angel, Claudia’s was slow to anger.  At home, Claudia was all business and ran a tight ship, so to speak.  The children probably feared her more than he.  His angel never seemed to be angry at home.  Her greatest pleasure in life was the children.  She had never shown them anything but a smiling loving face.  At work, the two switch roles as easily as one would change shoes.  His angel became a heated fireball at the smallest hint of opposition, while Claudia’s angel always sat relaxed in the background.  He was ever watchful, but rarely provoked to any reaction aside from feigned indifference.  Those in the council knew he was anything but indifferent.  His eyes never stopped moving when they were in council.  The male angel was always on guard, but never let those around him know it.  To see him in arms alarmed even Saul. 

                “That is good,” Councilman Charrander said.  He turned to face the rest of the council, “because I have learned that there has been a bit of disharmony in your home, of late.  It seems that not only have you lost your oldest son, but now you have lost a daughter.”  He turned back towards Claudia with an evil grin.  Her angel was ablaze now, with an angry orange flame.  Some of the council members gasped audibly.  Councilman Charrander did not.  “I would hate to lose faith in our beloved Head Councilwoman because she was more worried about her daughter than the ancient laws.”  He pretended to think, and then added, “I just wonder what is happening in our most trusted leaders’ home that would cause not one, but two children to run away.”

                This time Claudia didn’t try to hide her displeasure.  “You tread a very dangerous path, Samuel.  I will not abandon the laws of peace to save one person.”  Her voice cracked a bit.  “Even if that person is my own daughter.  It’s true that she has run away.  There was a fight at her school, and instead of handling, her principal called us in to deal with it.  We told her to handle it herself.  I can see now how that must have appeared to our dear daughter.  She must have been hurt, thinking we didn’t care.”  Her voice regained a bit of its strength.  “Most of you here are parents.  You understand that we were acting in Rachel’s best interest.  A parent can’t always rescue their child.  Children need to learn to work out their own problems at some point in their lives.  We wouldn’t be good parents if we solved all of hers for her.  Just as we don’t solve all of your problems when you bring them to us, we can’t solve our children’s.  The must grow to be strong, just as each of your factions have grown stronger when you figure out how to rule yourselves.”  She turned again to Councilman Charrander.  “I will not break the laws and go to rescue her.  She has made the choice to leave our protective care.  It is written in ancient law that she must be free to choose.  Even at her tender age, she must be free.  I will not take that freedom from her because it would be precedence for others to do the same, and we all know that sometimes children leave because they are in danger. Sometimes they fear that they are endangering their families.  We can’t know.  We are linked to our beasts, but only once that union has been solidified can control be established.  If not control, then understanding.  It breaks my heart as a mother to think of my child out there alone in a dangerous cruel world.  But I would not risk the lives of countless others who run away because they fear for the lives of their spirit beast, or because they fear for the lives of the spirit beasts of their families to save my own daughter.  For all I know, she could have left for one of these reasons.  Perhaps her beast has turned into a demon, perhaps a predator and she fears it will maul those of her siblings.  I don’t know her reasons, but I’ll not break the law to go find out.”

                Councilman Charrander turned to face the rest of the council.  “So she says.  A mother who drives not one, but two of her children from her own house can hardly be trusted, can she?”

                In a flash an orange flame vaulted the pulpit and first two rows of chairs and council members.  Councilman Charrander was on the third row, he now had a flaming trident against his neck.  Before Saul could react, a giant hammer was crashing down on his wife’s angel.  He heard a sickening crushing sound and the hammer made contact with the stone floor of the council chambers.  The councilman’s giant demon had crushed his wife’s angel.  Saul heard a scream.  It took several minutes to realize that his throat was sore.  It was him who was screaming.  His angel vaulted the pulpit.  Blue flame was all he could see as she streaked across his plane of sight.  A mighty swing of her sword threw the giant demon across the room.  It managed to get its warhammer up in time to block the blow, but the force was such that it took him from his feet, and one hundred paces across the room until a giant marble pillar stopped him.  The demon stood on unsteady legs.  Saul’s angel backhanded Councilman Carrander, sending him soaring across the room to land next to his spirit beast.  The female angel had tears streaking down her cheeks.  She was beyond reconciliation.  There was nothing Saul could do to stop her.  Nothing short of the blood of both the councilman and his spirit beast would soothe her anger.  Saul ran to stay close to her.  If she ran too far, she may sever the link between them and kill them both.  As he ran, he saw something moving in the rubble left by the giant hammer.  He didn’t have time to stop, though.

                Saul was only halfway to his angel, and she was in pitched battle with the giant demon.  Council members were scattering in every direction, most falling over themselves trying to get out of the way.  None dared to try to interrupt the two powerful beasts.  The giant war hammer came crashing down on Saul’s angel, but her sword met the swing.  The floor under the angel cracked with the impact, but her arms didn’t so much as tremble as she pushed the hammer up away from her.  She heaved up mightily, and the demon lost its footing almost tumbling backwards.  In a flash, the sword slashed through its closest leg.  Blood splattered across the pure white column of the council room.  The horrible beast cried out in pain.  The fire around the sword seared the flesh and hair of the goat legs, filling the room with a shock of metallic smelling blood along with a pleasant aroma of cooked meat.

                The councilman came to his feet just has Saul cut the remaining distance between him and his angel.  He snatched the irate Charrander just in time to save him from his angel.  If he tried to interfere with the battle, she would cut him down as surely as if he were his demon.  Saul struggled to hold the old man’s arms behind his back.

                With a whoosh of air, his angel took flight.  The giant demon was still teetering, trying to catch his balance and keep from falling backwards.  With a quick flap of her wings, Saul’s angel darted at the demon’s chest.  The blow not only knocked him back, but threw him another twenty feet back.  The large demon’s wings snapped as they made harsh contact with the unforgiving floor.  Before he even settled fully on the floor, she was standing on his chest with her sword poised for the kill.

                “Enough!”

                Saul jumped at the powerful authoritative voice coming from the pulpit.  There stood Claudia, unharmed.  He looked at the rubble where he thought her angel was smashed, only to see him standing there with his trident ready to throw should the battle turn against his love.  There was a large hole in the ground next to him.  He must have got his shield up in time to block the blow, but the impact drove him into the ground.

                Saul’s angel stood panting on the great demon’s chest.  The fire in her eyes faltered at seeing her love alive and well, but she wasn’t willing to back off just yet.  He had tried, that was all that mattered.  Saul knew well her character.  He had tried to kill her love.  That threat was worthy of death, in-and-of itself.  The demon lay on its back, the war hammer having been knocked out of his grasp lay a goodly distance away.  His wild eyes were wide open, looking at the angel on his chest poised to kill him.  Saul wasn’t sure, but it looked almost as if the great demon were surprised beyond reason that a creature one third its size could so easily overpower him. 

                There was a reason Saul and Claudia were Head Council members.  Their spirit beasts possessed powers beyond just outward appearances.  Saul’s angel was many times stronger than any giant-type monster.  Claudia’s was tougher than even Saul knew, apparently.

                “Enough, I said,” Claudia repeated. 

                Saul reluctantly let go of Councilman Charrander’s arms.  His angel was less forgiving.  She looked at Claudia, then at her angel, then back at the monstrous demon.

                “It’s okay,” Saul said.  He urged her through their bond to back down, but felt only anger and resistance.  She did not want to let a possible threat go unpunished.

                “Cindell, please,” Claudia begged.  “Let’s not spoil the sanctity of peace these halls have enjoyed for thousands of years.  Especially over petty words of hatred.”

                Saul’s angel looked back at Claudia.  Saul could feel her frustration.  She wanted nothing more than to end the life of this wretched beast who had so often brought out her ire.  She took a step closer to the demon’s face.  She stomped her foot, and her weapon dematerialized. 

                Just as she turned to walk off of the beast, it laughed.  Saul groaned inside.  His angel turned in a huff.  In a flash she reached out and grabbed the golden ring through the bull nose, and tore it out with a powerful yank.  The demon howled and covered his bleeding nose.  Sauls angel smirked and took wing, landing gracefully at Saul’s side.  He still had his face buried in his hand.

                “You’re not fit to rule this council,” Charrander yelled.

                “It seems we’re the perfect pair to rule this council,” Claudia retorted.  “We’re the only ones strong enough to keep you, and those like you, from getting it in their heads that they can overthrow the ruling power of this council.”  Councilman Charrander was about to sputter off a harsh remark, but Claudia held up a hand, silencing him.  “Don’t try my patience any farther Samuel.  It’s taking all my resolve to keep my angel under control.  He wants to tear your demons arms from his body and beat the two of you to death with them.  Don’t test me any farther Councilman.  Just don’t!”

                The man reluctantly stepped down, face red, and shaking with rage.  His spirit beast was having difficulty getting up.  Its wings were both broken, and the shin of the leg Cindell had cut was bleeding profusely.  The poor creature was holding its nose in agony, and couldn’t decide which wound hurt worse. 

                Saul’s angel was in the arms of her love; Claudia’s angel.  Saul wanted nothing more than to do the same to his dear wife, but he knew it wouldn’t be appropriate.  Instead, they shared a loving look.  Claudia gave him a tight smile then turned back to the council.  Council men and women were all pressed against the far walls of the great room.  Spirit bests were hiding in open terror of what they had just witnessed.  Even the predators were trying to stay out of the sight of the two powerful angels.  The demons were cowering like the worms they were.

                “That’s enough of that,” Claudia announced.  “Get back to your seats.  We have business to conduct.”  The council members reluctantly returned to their seats.  Apparently the upheaval they were promised in session today was not what they had expected.  Saul couldn’t help but be a little perturbed.  They all wanted to see the Angel Guild fall from power.  They didn’t seem to realize that it was the Angel Guild which kept them all safe, and war at bay.  Saul supposed that it was natural to want change, and the Angel Guild had been in charge for close to three thousand years now.  But those three thousand years had been peaceful.

                Councilman Charrander looked considerably humbler.  His demon had finally made it to its feet.  The demon studiously avoided the gaze of either of the angel, or their masters.  At least there was that.

                “I will see to it that my daughter is treated equally as any other runaway,” Claudia continued.  “She will get no special treatment, though I wish I could because of my love for her.  If she is to come back to the family, it will only be if she develops an angel spirit beast.  For now, she will be an outcast.  She will have to find her true place in Qualia duo, as do each of us.”

                Saul felt tears well up in his eyes with the finality of it all.  He had hoped nobody would find out, and they could take their daughter back with no incidents.  It appeared that the Demon Guild was watching them closer than they had thought.  They were always vying for power, like vultures circling an animal in the desert, the slightest hint of weakness and they would descend upon the carcass of what was now the council.  Nobody knew, but the balance of power was more precarious now than ever in the last three thousand years.  There was talk of real revolution.  Saul feared what such a revolution would do to their society.