Saturday, August 17, 2013

Immortal Pact

He sat there, waiting.

A large field surrounded by a dense forest.  Beyond the trees large mountain peaks can be seen in the distance.

The man sat waiting, contemplating the grass as it swayed gently in the calm breeze.

He sat crossed legged facing south as the high sun marks midday.

The man held his thick hand over the tops of the blades allowing them to tickle his palm as they dance beneath his flesh.

As the wind changes it brings the scent of lavender from a nearby patch of flowers, he leaned back slightly taking a deep breath, absorbing the sweet fragrance.

The man sat cross legged in a large field, waiting.

An old man appears from the southern edge of the field out of the dense tree line.  Behind him another follows suit.

The waiting man takes no notice as three more exit the forest from separate points.

The man opens his eyes now looking at the clear bright blue sky, combs his fingers through his thick black hair, adding to the wild nature of it.  Draws another deep breath noisily through his nose as a slight grin plays at the corner of his mouth.

The first older man to exit the forest is walking with a cane, slowly and steadily makes his way to the hill at the center of the field to the sitting figure.  The other four, much younger, trail behind keeping his slow pace, the closer of them leans forward and takes the older man’s arm to steady him as he moves along a patch of rocks.

The waiting figure still does not take notice of the group moving toward him.  Instead he continues to ponder the cloudless sky, seemingly looking past the deep blue to the hidden stars beyond.  His eyes move toward the one star visible to man, and looks deeply into the prominent yellow ball.

The procession of men continue at pace.  All five are garbed in simple brown tunics draped over their left shoulders covering their flesh; chest to ankles.  Their bare feet poke out from the lower folds with each stride.

The waiting man remains seated as the group make their way to the base of the hill where he rests.  As the group moves in, his small playful grin turns into a smile.

The older man pauses about five paces from the sitting figure.  The man then acknowledge the presence of these travelers with a quick wink and a nod.  He slowly gets up, the man standing a little over two meters, two heads taller than the tallest of the group.

All five men boast shaved heads, faces exhibiting ink that tells the story of various hunts and achievements.  The older man, now grasping his tall walking stick with both hands, has a long bone through his base of his nose.  He stares directly at the waiting figure with stone white eyes of a blind man.

The old man then shakily holds out his right hand, not from any sort of fear but from apparent age.  The tall figure steps forward and firmly takes the old man’s forearm as the old man grasps his with a surprisingly strong grip.  The older man then brandishes a toothless grin as the younger responds with a subtle laugh.

The tall man wears a loose leather vest baring a thick chest and muscular arms.  His simple slacks thick and baggy held on by frayed rope, he too were no sandals.

“The time of men has approached” the old man was the first to break the silence, speaking a long dead tribal language in a dry papery tone.

“Yes my old friend, it is certainly a very good day.” The tall figure replies as he places a hand on his lifelong friend’s shoulder, “Seeing you and your children and your children’s children, brings me great joy, watching you grow up from a wild stick of a boy who climbed trees and swam in the great lake naked amongst the silver fish was what made these last seven decades of my time here so magnificent.”

The tall man shed a small happy tear as the older man wipes away at his own eyes, both grinning at memories from long ago.

The older man turns his blind eyes away, seemingly staring off in the distance.  Not seeing the far off tree lines but seeing the man before him watching over as he plays in this very field as a boy.  The old man turns back, straitening up making himself taller, his many wrinkles seemed to melt slightly away as he musters up a pocket of youth, looking up at this figure before him with great respect and admiration.

“You were my father when my own died in the Felcian war, you were my guardian when my mother grew sick and you nursed her back to health, you were my best man at my wedding when I took my dear sweet Mizaru as my bride, and you stood there in the distance watching over my children and then their children.”

The old man faltered a little as if to fall, two from his group reached out but it was the tall man that took him in his arms.  The older man than broke down, in the grasp of this powerful figure he wept like a child, from sorrow, from pride, from happiness, from the knowledge of what is to pass.

“This future” the figure gestured to the men behind the older, while pulling him closer “belongs to them … my time…” he pauses and looks over his shoulder at a unheard sound.

Meanwhile on the other side of the world.  Several men move wearily along a shoreline, returning from a long fishing excursion.  They carry nets filled with kolios.  Laughing and sharing tales of other times at sea.

The youngest of the group, a boy no older than eleven, eagerly marched ahead, happy to be a part of his first exhibition, smiling at the exaggerated stories of his elders.  Staring ahead he stops suddenly, the grin quickly disappears making way for a shocked expression.

The closer man at his heals nearly trips over him, cursing the lad not noticing the figure the smaller one’s eye was transfixed on.  The group slowly grows silent as one by one they spot the woman walking out from the sea.

Stunned the men gather around the shoreline as this beautiful creature seemingly glides slowly from the water with no boat in site.  Completely nude she pauses before the men, standing there as if allowing them to admire her.

The oldest of the group quickly breaks his trance grabs a burlap blanket rushes over and covers this young beauty.

Her shame now covered, the ugly sack does not admonish her beauty but her grace seems to make the sack look magnificent on her.

Unnoticed four women, elders from their village, push their way through the group, as three of them scowl at the gawking men and the fourth, the leader, moves toward the young lady.

The men, out of deep respect for the older women, move aside for the elders allowing clear passage.  The lead woman stops two feet from the figure and quickly goes to one knee before her.  The proceeding women follow suit and as if by example the men clumsily did the same.

The old woman at the rear of the four peered over her should at the fishermen, still on one knee, impossibly her scowled deepened.  She raised both her arms toward them and waved them away.

The men quickly took a hint got up and hurried off toward the village.  The young boy though hesitated still transfixed on the sea woman who was meeting his eyes with a smile.  The old woman in the rear grunted and nodded her head toward the village, and without breaking eye contact he quickly gets up and darts off finally looking away.  He turns, pausing at the wild growth along the edge of the beach, and looks at the sea lady one last time, finally startled by a louder grunt from the angry woman he disappears over the hill.

The old angry woman looks back at the sea tilting her head toward the ground in respect, along with the other three.  After a few seconds of this the lead woman looks up and struggles to her feet.  The young lady finally breaks her pose to lend her support.

This proud woman allows the help of the younger and brushes the sand from her skirt with one hand as the other arm still hangs on to the lady.  She then looks up and makes eye contact with the beauty.  For a second even she is lost in her splendid green eyes.  The other women, now standing, move in closer to the pair.

The young lady broke the silence in ancient Greek she speaks in a musical voice “Our time here has ended…”

© 2013 Kinse, My Sweet Hero

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