Free From the Wood, Yet Slave to the Heart

Dropped from Lilith’s hand, Raya didn’t know what it was until she caught a short sword by the hilt. She tossed a glance at Lilith, who nodded at her, and Raya ran forward to distract the attention of one of the urdak. She couldn’t let Lilith alone to fight both, right?

“They’re faster than they look!” Lilith cried to Raya, for, being at such a close range to the urdak rendered their own telepathy quite useless. “So don’t underestimate their speed, nor their agility!”

“Right!” Raya chimed, bringing the blade up to just barely deflect the descending claws.

“And they’re strong, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, so be careful!” Lilith did a swift back flip to avoid a sweep from her assailant’s claws.

It then struck Raya as kind of odd that these giant goblin-like creatures had claws, but she shook her head to clear it of the thought as she had to dodge another attack. She went in for a hit, but found her own attack blocked, as well. Grimly, she wondered if she and Lilith would make it out alive.

The crown prince ran with the little goblin in his arm and the stout female goblin surprisingly keeping pace. As they reached the edge of the forest, they saw lights just a bit farther, and they continued towards them. To the villagers in this small village, they would make an odd group, a human who was probably around eighteen years, and a young goblin and an older goblin.

Colin sat up abruptly, his chest heaving from the dream - no, the memory - that had just crossed the eye of his unconscious mind. And he realized that he had recognized the kind of fear in her eyes as she and Lilith faced off against the frightening creatures they called the urdak. Her hand had shaken on the sword hilt, and he had seen, though not understood at the time, the uncertainty in her eyes. She hadn’t known that either of them would come out alive, and he doubted Lilith had any better knowledge of how their battle would have turned out. His breath caught in his throat and he let his head fall back upon the sheaf of papers in front of him.

He realized that he’d fallen asleep at his desk.

“What am I doing?” he groaned into his hands. “I’ve been so caught up in finding her that I’ve been ignoring my duties…I’m a horrible king. Why couldn’t Father have just remained the ruler for a few years more? Then I wouldn’t have made this god-awful mess of things.”

Normally, he didn’t take to talking to himself. He was King, and he kept the thought in mind. But now, in the relative privacy of his own study, he decided he was allowed such a liberty. But even so, guilt gnawed at him. To think of all the things he could have prevented if only he hadn’t declared a search for a single woman so rashly! Was it a crime of passion, perhaps, that he cared so much for this girl he barely knew yet felt as if he knew completely? So much that his aunt said he loved her, that he himself felt he did, too, and so much as to put the kingdom in jeopardy so long as it ensured her safe return to him and preferably to his arms? Nothing in his mind would justify the turmoil he brought to the table, the injury caused to the young Arlester because of his foolishness.

“I’m such a fool…”

“All men are, even at their best, son,” a voice startled him, and Colin leapt from his chair quickly, accidentally sending the heavy wooden structure to the floor with a loud crash. Facing him, standing inside the door that Colin hadn’t even heard open, was his father.

“Yes, but I am even more so than your average man,” Colin said, frowning and sighing as he righted his chair and slumped into it. “To put my people in danger to look for one person - so foolhardy! One life is hardly worth the several that were lost in the battle, and the several that will still be lost in the next. It weighs upon my heart. But still, I…”

He couldn’t bring himself to continue, but the former king smiled knowingly at his frustrated son.

“Colin, I understand. Man, as a rule, is often rash and foolish. A man in love is even more rash, but often for the best of reasons.”

“Even you say it’s love,” Colin said softly. “Am I so plainly seen? Or have I said it to you and don’t remember it?”

“Your actions speak so much louder than your words,” the former king told his son, placing a hand on Colin’s shoulder. “You must not regret what has happened, Colin, but use the knowledge to your advantage. And who knows? This girl may just show up at our doorstep tomorrow, or the next day. But don’t fret over what has passed.”

“I can’t help it!” Colin said in frustration. “All those men who died - their lives are on my hand, my conscience! I can’t close my eyes intentionally without seeing Carson in my mind’s eye, bleeding and injured, but still grinning and laughing and serving! I don’t…I can’t stop seeing it all. How can I not fret over it when it weighs so heavily upon me?”

Sighing, the older man sat down in a chair nearby and sat with his elbows on his knees.

“You never get over that feeling, son,” he said slowly, beginning to talk. “The lives of the men who die in your service, fighting in a battle for what you believe is right and for what you think is best for them…they stay with you forever. And as long as you live, you can’t stop it, maybe you can’t accept it, either…but you learn to cope with it. They believed in you, didn’t they? They believed in you or they wouldn’t have put their trust in you and their lives at your command. The most a king, or any sort of leader can do is to remember them kindly. Do not regret their sacrifice, but thank them for their willingness to give their lives in defense of the beliefs of their King. It is almost all you can do. I know it may seem tactless, Colin, but it must be done.”

“Why does it have to drag one down so?” Colin asked, distressed.

“The price of a life cannot be repaid,” the wise old king said gently, “save by remembering the sacrifice. Honor the soldiers and what they stood for. Any promise you made to them, you follow through on it. If you promised to win the war? If you promised to take care of their families should anything happen to them on the field of war? Any promise you make, take care not to break it. In my experience, it is the best thing you can do in that situation. It seems heartless at first, son. Trust me, I know. But move on. Press forward and fight until the death, keeping the dream alive until you can succeed or perish yourself and join all the brave men who went before you.”

“I did this, though,” Colin pressed on, looking up at his father. “I created this mess. If I hadn’t started the search for Raya, we could have had more forewarning of their approach, more time to prepare for the attack. We could have called men in from the other cities. The loss of life on our side could have been considerably less had I only waited another year!”

“All young men are impatient at times,” the old king said, sitting up and leaning back in his chair. “You strike me as even more patient than most, waiting two years. And you’re much more level-headed. I know how much it must have pained you to call it all off, yet you did for the good of your people. I know they are proud to call you their king, Colin. Now you just have to show them why.”

Fretting, Colin asked in barely above a whisper, “How am I to do that when I hardly know it myself?”

“You know, but you must puzzle it out for yourself. But know this; the more you believe in your own abilities as a ruler, the more your people will believe in it, too. Stand strong, Colin, even through all types of adversity. They look to someone strong to lead them, someone who will not quail under intense pressure, and right now that someone is you. Don’t let them down.”

Colin mumbled something along the lines of, “I’m not about to guarantee that,” but his father cut him off with a warning glance and the king sighed.

“What if I do?” he asked anyway as the former king climbed up from his chair.

“You won’t,” was the simple reply as the hem of his deep red cloak swished around the corner and out of sight. “Just believe in yourself a little, like we all believe in you.”

Colin stared after him, piecing it all together in his head. He should really have been looking at strategies, but he couldn’t concentrate at the moment so he focused on digesting the words his father had given him.

The king still felt his failure and the guilt from it racing through his veins like racehorses trying to outdo one another, but roughly shoved the thought aside and went back to work. Rather than trying to write down a strategy, which he ought to have done first, he sat to make a list of reasons why his people cared for him as a ruler, so he’d know what to play upon if he never needed any extra assistance in the matter.

“I’m sorry,” he said to the air, his words slipping away unheard.

He didn’t know who he was apologizing to more; his people, Raya, or himself.