The Forum

Jesse Kane stood alone on the hill deciding whether or not to leave the town he had just helped, when a man approached from behind and said; “Mr. Kane, I have a job for you if you choose to accept it.”

“What?” Jesse asked.

“Are you a rebel? Do you like justice?”

“Yes.”

“Would you fight for justice?”

“Of course. Doesn’t every man, woman and child scream for justice every day?”
“Yes.” Horace said, “The corps is writing up a treaty,” Jesse looked at him, “We need a guide, and a guard to bring this message to Thameia under the nose of the Calmian and Herozian governments.”

“Who’s delivering this…treaty?”

“Ken Sutler.”

“Ken Sutler? The blithering idiot I saw last night? That drunkard who insulted my mother and father?”

“Yes…”

“Get someone else.”

“We have no one else.”

Jesse smiled and thought a minute about what Horace said. “Why would they need all your warriors? You are unable to attack or defend—-you pose no threat to them.” Jesse mused.

“I don’t know.”

“I am not speaking to you Mr. Jamison. I will think about your offer.”

Horace left.

If the Calmians were planning on expanding their empire the rest of this god forsaken island needs to hear about it—Thameia and Neria included. Especially the Nerians, Jesse thought with a wry smile. He knew the Nerians were a terrible enemy to face when they were attacked. It would be like rushing a nest of angry killer bees.

Jesse traversed the land and came to stand again on the hill; gazing intently at the town going about its daily business blanketed in an air of fear. He walked down into the town and had thought over Horace’s proposal.

Horace Jamison was calmly distributing drinks to his faithful patrons when the door burst open. The man who had opened the door walked to the bar and stared at Horace.

“No,” he said breaking the silence formed by everyone there.

“Why not?”

May give this up for lent…but i will keep writing…so for the moment:

Fare Thee Well

I say fare thee well my friend,

fare thee well I say.

The day has come to say goodbye,

but only for a moment in the universe. 

So I say my farewell; hoping, and moping

Unsure of what to say, but I will carry on

Until, another day, when the bright rays

Will kiss my nose, and tickle my toes

Every day is the beginning of an age

But whether the sages are wise; we cannot tell

But until the death knell ceases I am gone; 

For a moment, but I will spring up on the dell

Bringing peace to all good and well

May you be swell; may you be grand

We shall meet again, in a new day

a new age.

Let the spirits guide you until that sacred day

May the tidings be what you wish, 

Not what you wish not.

Goodbye, fare thee well my friend.

Jesse rode his horse and came to a ridge overlooking the town when the soldiers manifested their presence to the locals. They came and paid no heed to the privacy of their homes; dragging out young boys of age to fight. 

“Tobias!” a woman screamed, she tried to grab at her son. He had dark hair and was a mute. 

“What is your name, boy?” the soldier asked him, totally disregarding the woman’s plea.

The boy was silent. 

“Do you understand?” the soldier asked, again Tobias said nothing. “Your name? Your parents give it to you when you are born.” the soldier said slowly. Jesse could see the child looked scared from his vantage point with the telescope.

“All your sons of ages fourteen to twenty must enlist to join our army as reserves. That was the agreement for your freedom. A small price I must say.” The commander said addressing the crowd. He looked at the town, and the people.

“That is not fair. You never mentioned this before, you lying cheating scum!” the innkeeper said whose name was Horace, Horace Jamison. The father of Tobias.

“Are you calling me a liar?” the commander asked venomously. Horace looked him in the face and spat on the ground near the hooves of his horse, others followed suit. The commander made a signal and two men came and tied up Horace. They took a hot iron off the bench of blacksmith, and some coal. 

“You will share your son’s fate. To proclaim blasphemy is to defy your gods.” the soldier said taking the coal and having a man pry his mouth open. 

Jesse stood on the hill, silently notching his bow. The coal got closer to Horace’s mouth and as soon as it was halfway down his throat, an arrow shot out of nowhere and buried itself in the guard’s hand. He yelled in pain, dropping the iron rod, and spitting curses. He searched in vain for where the arrow had sprung from. The people were happy and exuberant, but still suspicious of the archer on the hill. 

“You are all traitors.” the commander spat, taking all the boys they could, and leaving. The women cried and the men spat curses, and Jesse remained a stoic figure on the hill, still as stone. 

After he was certain the soldiers had left, he rode into the town, carefully making sure the bow was out of sight. He maintained his coarse and heartless dispostion—really a falsehood, and walked back into the bar. 

“Oh, Stranger, back again.” the innkeeper said greeting him. 

“Aye. My name’s Jesse Kane, if I haven’t said already…” the man said. He shook hands with the innkeeper who replied, “Horace Jamison. It’s a pleasure.”

“It sure is.” Jesse responded, taking off the hood of his cloak, deducing the environment was friendly. People stared at his dark features and youthful face. They were ultimately surprised at his youth…thinking Jesse Kane an older man. But really he  had recently left boyhood to join manhood’s ranks. 

“Where are your parents?” Horace asked; disarmed by the man’s youthful looks of a teenager. 

“Dead. I understand the confusion.” Jesse said. “Yeah, my father was a drunk, and my mother a farm girl, exploited by the Calmians. My mother died of typhoid, and my father disappeared and probably died.” Jesse with no trace of pity in his voice about his father. Horace looked at him; pity in his gaze.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were an adult.”

“Barely.”

“Whatever. What are you doing in these parts, you sound like you’re from the south.”

“I am. The lower territories…by Calmia.”

“What are you doing up here?” Horace asked. Jesse glared at him, and turned back to the cup of coffee he was nursing. He drank it savoringly, and became closemouthed again.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“How long have they been occupying this town?”

“How did you know that?”

Jesse looked at him; silent. 

“Ten years.”

“Oh. And Ken Sutler…he’s been a drunk for how long?”

“About five years.”

“He started drinking when he was fifteen?”

Horace was silent, how did this guy know so much? 

  Jesse Kane soon became the talk of the town, the only gossip the country folk could talk about. Ken Sutler said he was a villain, and a cutthroat. But he had forgotten his own harsh words he had said to the innocent stranger to provoke him. Most thought he was a warrior who had been an Calmian, but had hopped the border. The innkeeper from that night thought that Jesse Kane was a good man at heart, but when provoked was a surly angry fighter—similar to Ken Sutler.

  All knew that Ken had lost his father Sutler when he came and traded in this town ten years ago, he had demanded to be repaid for being cheated by the Calmian merchants who had sold him the wares. On his way home to his wife, during a snowstorm. Because of his father’s death, Ken had turned to alcohol at an early age to forget what he was feeling. But he had become hopelessly addicted. Everyone hated him for it. 

Jesse Kane rode his horse Kandais, through the mountains trying to find another town where he could start again when he chanced upon seeing Calmian company of soldiers. He quickly traced the route with  his telescope, and saw they were heading toward the town. He diverged away from the soldiers, and wheeled his horse away. He took a narrow path following the company quietly. He murmured to the horse and told it to be silent as possible. He tracked the company, and found a small knot in a tree, he had put there since he was staying out in the backwoods of the mountains. He collected his bow—every soldier should know how to use a bow, the sergeants had told him back when he was conscripted into the army. He reached into the pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a charm on a leather cord. He kissed it and prayed to the god for good luck. 

The people in the town of Xaderaidia were unaware of the soldiers that were marching toward them. 

Jesse rode swiftly, following the soldiers but prudent to make sure his presence go unnoticed by the loud obnoxious Calmian soldiers he loathed just as much as the native people they suppressed. He needed to be at the town slightly behind the company, because he had some ugly incidents with them. Jesse and his horse Kandais kept good views of the army, and followed them closely.