In Service to the King

My cabin sits back from the four-lane, paved expanse that connects the country's industrious city on the one end to the fertile farms on the other. Yet, I have never heard report that I live in the middle between them. Anyway, a young grove of pine and magnolia buffers me from the road while I keep solitary vigil over the forest beyond the boundaries.

A single dirt lane passes from the road through the grove, and it ends in a river-rock gravel path that encircles my cabin. Either way one might turn on this path would wander past my gardens to a nearly barren moor that stretches from my back porch to the forest. I say 'nearly barren' because the wind through the heather and thistle shows its kind of beauty.

On this day, I sprawl across a wooden swing on my back porch. I collapsed here upon my delivering a remedy to a concerned father in the city. Both extremes of the road seek me when gaps appear in their ability to respond to life's problems. With the assistance of that father's gift of tobacco and a new book, I find no reason to leave my perch.

Short stories, where many things dance like fairies but are not, parade through the book focusing my mind on another author's characters. Yet the comfort of the swing with the warm sun, the mellow taste of whisky, and the swirling smoke are ever present to my thoughts. The sun reaches its zenith as this present pipe bowl extinguishes.

I roll off the swing, which creaks in protest, before walking to the edge of the porch. A thud accompanies my first smack of the pipe, so I dive behind the porch railing. A single straight arrow with green fletching appears between the slats of the railing. As I contemplate a friendly summons from the forest, a second arrow lands with black fletching which would indicate a threat in the forest. I turn, retrieve my staff from under the swing, and march into the yard. "All right, come on then."

A third arrow with pink fletching lands between my feet; there is only one who could make that shot. This though fixes me to the spot with mouth open before I spin on my heels back to the porch. After tossing everything in my pack, I sprint toward the tree line while my wards lock the doors in response to my haste. I traverse the moor in a moment and pause at the base of an oak to take a deep breath.

The awareness of trees growing here for centuries and animals scurrying about their briefer lives consumes my mind. This sensation of life flows into me and spurs both hands to strangle my staff. I channel this energy from the arches of my feet, through my body, and collect it into my staff, which begins to glow.

Before I can release that collection from the staff, my knees buckle from a sudden impact. I fall face first into the duff with my legs held tightly. I try to roll over, but a great pressure settles onto my back. My staff landed just out of reach, but my left arm catches loosely to prevent me from reaching the staff. I wiggle to get the arm free until a soft, tender grip takes my other hand. I squeeze tighter as the life of the forest fades into the background.

Without releasing my right hand, I cease to struggle, so my left arm and legs fall to the ground. When the pressure on my back eases, I roll toward my right arm, "Thank you, Annabelle. You always did know how to keep me in line, didn't you?" The short, pale-skinned elf smiles down at me and lets go long enough for me to stand after I kiss the back of her hand.

The tall, muscular one orders the other scrawny member of the party to retrieve my staff, "Sorry, mate, for the rough treatment, but didn't want you to do something you would regret." I dust myself off and turn to look the speaker in the chest, "No worries, Cecil. In fact, I appreciate it." The other returns with my staff. I could look him in the eye, but he averts them, "Thanks, Marvin." I take the staff, and he shuffles back behind Cecil. The final member of the party hands me my pack. I come up to about her neck, and there is no doubt what caused the pressure on my back. "Ah, Jackie, how are you?" She grunts and moves to lean on a nearby tree.

After a moment of courtesies, Cecil rises to his full height while setting a hand on his sword, "Well, this is unfortunately not a social call. There is work to be done." Annabelle places her hand on my shoulder, and our eyes connect for a moment before Cecil continues, "You know the protocol. I have to keep you in the dark about what the work is. The king will tell you himself. Yeah, I still have to escort you there. Everyone form up." Cecil takes the lead with Marvin and Annabelle to either side while Jackie marches behind me.

Within a few moments of silent march, Cecil concedes, "This is Henry, you guys. I said this wasn't a social call, but we've got a way to go." Marvin kicks some dandelion seeds into the air and asks what I have been doing since I left the last time. I report on solving civil disputes in the city or on the farms, and Jackie snorts a laugh, "Henry, you are the only human that listens to reason." Marvin seems more awestruck by the coexistence of trolls and humans on the farms. Annabelle remains silent though I could swear she too smirked several times during my story. I try to ask them questions, but Cecil asks whether it is true that I allow strangers to wander through my grove. I tell him that I created some side trails off the main lane. These trails really seem to help some folks find an answer. Annabelle gasps at my free-range approach, so I attempt to comfort her with details of the wards that I set up. She seems unconvinced, so I add the legends, made by both populations of city and farm, of me being crazy. These legends provide a sort of defense by themselves. She jerks her head in my direction with an obvious snarl. Thankfully, Marvin ignores her and asks more about how these people find their answers. I relax into storytelling as the sun marches toward the horizon.

Just after dusk, we reach four spruce trees that surround a very ancient oak. Cecil clears his throat to interrupt Marvin's next question, "All right, up we go." He deftly leaps from one branch to the other. After he gets five branches ahead, he turns to observe Annabelle, Marvin, and me following him. Jackie begins her ascent once we three replace Cecil, and we proceed in this way as we circle the spruces. The first branch back on the first tree connects to a landing that ends at a wall of intertwined branches. This wall appears to rise into the very canopy of the grove. Cecil makes sure that our formation is tight and guides us toward the seam of the branches across the landing.

Somewhere a voice calls from the darkness above us. Cecil announces, "Tell the king that we have Pilgrim. He returns under no force and at our call." Tiny orbs of light in various colors float down from the wall. They hover momentarily before whooshing back up the wall.

A bugle call echoes around the wall, and a thin point of light shines from the wall. It flares outward to either side and down to the ground. Cecil shakes his head, "Well, this is great," and he declares, "Guys, I'm with him." The square of light raises a good foot, and he nods, "Thank you." The light divides again at the seam and creeps to the ground.

The gates creak as they open inward. A serene city greets my view. Each home hosts balls of light like those before the wall on either side of their doorframes. I become tense as the square and rectangular buildings are close enough to walk across their roofs. My tension increases as windows squeak open to allow families to stare down at our group. Within a few paces, some crowd the sidewalks with mixed looks of smiles and glares. I'm certain they will know me next time. I can feel the doubt that I will be no help, if the elves cannot solve their own issues. At last, Cecil has to push through the crowd to reach two grand doors with scenes from past monarchs.

We pause at the door to a long rectangular building at the intersection of four roads. Jackie steps beside Cecil, and they heave the doors outward to reveal a channel between two rows of soldiers. I pass through their ranks with eyes darting from hands to swords. Thankfully, Annabelle quickens her pace to reach an open space between the soldiers and a raised platform.

The army commanders stand before the elevated throne. I nod my head to the general and the colonel before kneeling to the king. The king rises and crosses to the edge of his level of the platform. "Ah yes, Pilgrim. I see you have been captured again." Cecil opens his mouth, but Jackie elbows him in the side. "I have, Your Majesty. They subdued me just as I crossed into your lands." The king nods to Cecil with the briefest of smirks. "What cause do you have for violating your treaty with me and returning here?" I stammer purposefully, "Sir, three elven arrows appeared on my backdoor step, and I wondered if you might desire my assistance. I can see now that I was mistaken and ask only for your pardon to return to my home unharmed." The king breaks his glare at me and looks down the rows of soldiers, "You may not yet leave. I suppose there are one or two problems that you might help with. In particular, the ogres have returned and tear at our outlying villages. Clearly, they work their way to us. Would you be willing to help me solve this issue?" I bow my head, "I would consider it an honor to fight for you once more, if you would have me." The king nods a few times, "Yes indeed that seems useful. Speak to my general for orders and my colonel for quarters." I stand as the king turns his back, "Thank you, Your Majesty." The general smirks at me and announces, "We leave at first light. Sleep well, men, for tomorrow is going to be a long one." He follows the king down the back of the platform. The colonel steps forward next, "Gentlemen and Ladies, please sleep where you may this night, but be sure to return at the bugle call in the morning." He lingers for a moment as the assembly disperses with some glad for a chance to visit home.

The colonel descends the front steps and offers a hand, "Welcome back, boy. I hope you've been practicing." I shake the colonel's hand, "I've stayed sharp." He grins and scans our little group "Are all of you staying here tonight?" Annabelle stands nodding beside me as I shrug. Cecil interjects, "With your permission, Sir." Colonel nods, "Fine, any division would be glad to have you, Pilgrim, so choose well." As he walks away, I turn to see my friends and the vacated hall.

I relax for the first time since the wall while we move to a corner of the room. Cecil takes his seat on the floor, "Will you, please, join the infantry. I need all the help I can get." With a very pointed look at Marvin, Jackie counters, "No, you'll join the artillery. With your magic, the infantry will not even have to draw their swords." Marvin leans against the wall of the room and is soon asleep. I look from Cecil to Jackie to Annabelle who offers only a raised eyebrow.

In that instant, the throne room vanishes; I stand on the forest floor surrounded by elves slashing through grotesque, towering ogres. I stagger behind their swords guiding blows and healing wounds. Many elves fall around me, but the ogre casualties mount eventually, and they flee the field. A blink transports me to Jackie's side. Together, we lay waste to hundreds of the beasts in an instant, but the ogres focus their attack on our tree. They pull on a branch that flings us into the air and misdirects the next volley from Jackie into our infantry, roasting most of them alive. Simultaneously, a third scene appears with me on a singular branch. I bring a wind to hurl one enemy away from Cecil, cool the singes of Jackie's blasts, and manage to cease the struggle of one or two ogres. I shake my head, "Nah, I think I will take a more precise approach." Jackie rolls her eyes and joins Marvin on the wall for a snooze. Soon, even Cecil can no longer hold his eyes open. Annabelle and I cuddle together and linger for a bit grateful for some time to exchange tales of our time apart.

I do not recall falling asleep, yet I will never forget the bugle call that morning. Cecil and I are on our feet in an instance with sword drawn and staff pointed until we look around. As we laugh at our response, I lend a hand to Annabelle as she gets to her feet. Marvin slowly emerges from between Cecil's legs as we nudge Jackie awake.

In a moment, we are joined by one or two others. They tell us about the recent encroachments by the ogres. The entire company is milling about within a quarter of an hour. One single bugle note directs our attention to the doors. The general and the colonel stand side-by-side scanning the mob. The general thunders, "Well? Form up. These monsters will have your homes at this rate."

My group and I gather our equipment to enter the ranks. The general opens the door, and we march forth to a cheering crowd. Entreaties to conquer mightily and for safe returns spew from the gathered city. The crowd guides us all the way to the wall. There, we form a straight line as we pass the gates and travel over the trees.

The sun filters through the canopy in a soft haze as the day gently warms. Oaks and spruce give way to redwoods and firs as we pass town after village. Some sing to keep the pace of the march; others check swords and arrows to assure themselves that they are as prepared as they might be. My friends simply walk contemplating what we are to do ahead. Annabelle and I clasp hands and squeeze when a negative thought crosses our minds.

At present, the company is shoved from their thoughts by the sheer devastation. Homes crumble; livestock are everywhere, and few people can be seen. Several make way for our passing with tears in their eyes and soot on their hands. There are no shouts and few sighs of relief as villagers dash back into their ruined homes. Some in the company hesitate to stare at particular houses before regaining their strides.

When the last soldier passes the border of the village, the general calls a halt, "Now, you have seen the force that we face. I mean to ensure a generation passes before we are here again on this duty. Do not disappoint me or them." On cue, "Aye" rises from the company with a subdued yet determined voice. The colonel steps forward to order infantry to the duff and artillery to encircle in the trees.

Cecil shakes my hand with narrowed eyes and stomps off to join his comrades. Jackie slaps me on the back before leaving to find her spot, and Marvin scuttles off after Cecil. Annabelle and I stand back to hear the sharpening of blades one last time with the muttered recollection of spells. After that moment, we move up a level in the trees to a branch just overhead of the assembling infantry.

I pull a rock from the moor at the back of my cabin, a crow's feather, the wick from a candle, and a vial of glacier water from my pack. Each item slides into a pocket of my jeans. Annabelle whistles to draw my attention back to the trunk of the tree. We focus on a hill in the distance just beyond the tree line after winking at each other.

From over the hill, a rumble begins like thunder from heat lightning. A shadow grows over the hills as hundreds of misshapen thugs lumber toward us. Each ogre moves on columns of muscles that enable heads to graze low-lying branches. They give the impression of hounds sniffing the air in search of prey.

The sense of forest life rushes me again as I close my eyes to take a calming breath. My opened eyes find a branch near the top of the canopy. A sense of mold in the branch raises bile in my throat. I point my staff at that limb, imagine the limb falling, and aim my staff at the front line of ogres. The branch snaps from its place and collects several other branches on its way to meeting ogre heads.

I hear Cecil yell while he charges forward with sword overhead. Cecil seems to strike at everything, if he cannot see eyeballs. The enemy recovers to spread two new lines in an effort to pinch the charging infantry. Our group responds by branching to meet the tactic.

While I deflect blows from axes and maces, a wave breaks upon the right side of the ogres. I snap my head around to nod at Jackie, who grimaces when the wave catches two elves. I focus on the water, locate the calm, and spread it around the elves. They recover to split the ogres flailing in the wave.

A curse snatches my attention back to Cecil where Marvin appears at Cecil's heels. Cecil moves too far forward which allows the ogres to surround him and Marvin. I focus on approaching hammers, but a wail jerks my attention to Jackie's group. The ogres grab branches and tear the artillery group to the forest floor. An arrow whizzes past my ear to twitch my focus toward two ogres headed in our direction. These two reach into the earth and gouge a divot apiece. The resulting clumps become projectiles in our direction.

Reflexively, I focus on the wind, see it at gale force, and aim my staff at the missiles. They disintegrate in midair. Muck scatters over us and knocks Annabelle from her perch. She grabs hold of a branch and swings to a standing position, loosing several arrows in the motion. I maintain the wind to misdirect new missiles until she removes the cause of our concern.

I refocus on the ogres threatening Jackie as one removes her branch. She lands on her stomach a few branches down but pops to her feet. A column of water appears and drops onto the enemy. It becomes a cyclone as she pushes it back to end half of the circle around Cecil and Marvin.

Cecil just catches Marvin as the water passes and rolls him on the ground at the rest of the circle. Marvin hits several knees as he flails with his sword arm to stop. Cecil steps forward to end the challenge. He lunges into the next fray to release more infantry from similar circles. Jackie brings the ocean itself onto the right side of ogres and sweeps them over the ridge.

With my friends moving again, I scan the field. Three squadrons of ogres array themselves across the battle like a giant hand. The palm continues to try and smush Cecil's group while the fingers and thumb attempts to close in from right and left. There just behind the palm, one ogre stands with clean armor grunting and directing those around it.

Some vines dangle just above its head. I point my staff at that commander, reach for the vines, and direct its will to grow toward the ogre. The vines slide down the back of the leader's helmet before looping around his neck. As they tighten, I draw the vines back up the tree. The ogre roars once as he struggles against his captor. Then, the ogre goes limp dangling over his army. A cheer erupts from our infantry as ogres drop their hammers and axes to flee the battle. Jackie and Cecil take parting shots as the enemy disintegrates into retreat.

We watch the last flee over the horizon. I detect the general walking back to Jackie's tree. He surveys the field and shakes his head before planting his sword near the base of the tree. The colonel emerges holding the body of a fallen elf, and he places her next to the sword. Everyone finds a comrade and places the corpse next to the other. Cecil and Marvin help to gather the infantry while Jackie focuses on her artillery mates. For our part, Annabelle and I collect those who fell farther from the melee.

The colonel settles the last body before laying his sword at the end of the line. Two squadrons form on either side as Jackie stands just behind the general's sword. I place a hand on her shoulder while she stretches an arm over the fallen. An orderly flame catches the first and sparks down the assembly.

When the flame extinguishes, the general leads one side back into the trees. The other side follows in its turn as we begin the hike back to the city. Annabelle and I find ourselves at the back. She finds my hand and squeezes hard. I point at two squirrels chasing one another around a limb; she smiles softly before pointing to a momma bird feeding her young. Whispers breakout as we continue. These become full voiced conversations as we come in sight of the wall.

A mournful bugle blast opens the gates, and the city's dwellers greet us with wide eyes and searching faces. We march down the main avenue toward the throne room. The king stands at the doors to the longhouse with a lowered head. He begins with lowered voice, "Thank you for this return. I am saddened to see many less of you. I call for a feast this evening in my hall to celebrate the fallen and the survivors." He goes into the long house, and the general instructs us to prepare for the feast.

After a welcomed scrub in the barrack's shower, I find a tree trunk to lean on while I await the others. Cecil is the first to join me. I congratulate his effort on the day; he comments that he never figured me for a hangman. Marvin appears next gushing about the glories of victory, "A king's feast of all things. Who would believe that I would be treated to a king's feast?" Cecil and I shrug while Jackie materializes at Marvin's shoulder, "We best go find seats."

We locate seats ensuring one open next to me. After fighting off another would-be invader, a hand grabs my shoulder, "Thank you." I pull the chair out as Annabelle glides into it. Cecil offers me a moment to remember how to form words, "Well, I seem to be underdressed; to think they let me in here without my dress uniform." The table relaxes fully as food begins to appear.

Later, the king rises and claps his hands three times. Servants rush from every corner of the room and carry away three of the rows of tables. The king claps once more, and the final row of tables scurries away on their own accord. A band takes a position just in front of the stage as the king steps from the platform. The king bows to the minstrels, who begin a light tune, and offers his hand to the queen. As the couple dance, the chairs begin to catch the rhythm. Some shrink into informal seats, and some contort to form tables wide enough for four or five. Conveniently, our chairs dance while supporting us all to the same table. The king and queen bow low to respectful applause. As the commanders exit with the king and queen, the band strikes some hearty jigs, so dancing commences around the hall.

I manage to creep toward one of the side doors, using a promenade as cover. I take one more step backward and find the doorknob. In an instant, I am on a side-porch looking through the canopy at the stars. I occupy one of the chairs and light a pipe. My breathing keeps time with the rocking of the chair. Thoughts besiege me for every step I took in battle and doubts for every moment I spend out here.

The door behind me clicks shut, and Annabelle strides to the railing to stare into the night. Her black hair flutters in the breeze, and she turns to me with green eyes shining which puts all the city's glowing orbs to shame. "May I join you?"

I pull the other chair closer, "As you wish." We begin by thanking each other for the help today. We talk about the battle and celebrate everyone else's skill. The conversation turns to home. I ask about living in the trees, and she rejoins with inquiries about my cabin. I wonder if she has space for one more, but she counters with how easy would it be to add onto the cabin. We move to daily lives and methods of passing time - you know without life threatening battles. She tells me of nurturing the forest, and I find some different tales of helping the city and the farm.

At last, a silence settles between us. She pulls a cigar from her purse and puffs gently while I find her hand. We gaze at the stars pointing to different constellations without a sound. Smiles spread across our faces as an owl and a nightingale performs a duet.

Suddenly, a slow song echoes from the hall. I stand with a bow offering my hand to Annabelle, and she rises to accept with a curtsy. We start a waltz around the porch in an ever-tightening triangle. The sounds disappear, and the thoughts of battle fade. She places her head on my chest when we begin to twirl. We stop because even thoughts of movement evaporate when her emerald eyes appear behind a fallen strand of black hair.

Our lips meet, and all perception vanishes.

THE END

Bio: Mr. Kimbrough is a relatively new writer who works and writes in Alabama.

E-mail: Joe S. Kimbrough II

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