Of Gods, Kings, and Sour Wine
James D. Swinney
Whether it was the ear-piercing chirps of the dark birds in the dying wood, the noisy clopping of the horses’ hooves against the weedy cobblestones, or some combination of the two, Kaldir did not know. It may even have been a relapse of the fits that had plagued him so often so many years before. No, they had been absent for too many years for that. Was it nervousness that pounded in his ears, hammering his brain with a thunderous fury and giving him the nastiest headache he’d had in his whole life? No, he had gone through this situation almost exactly so, so many times. No, it wasn’t nervousness, nor was it guilt as he had the blood of countless on his hands already. It was indecision.
They had been riding for four days without sight or sound of any sort of game. It had been three days since they’d refilled their water supply, and the food supplies were running out as well. They had had nothing with which to fill their stomachs but dried meats and sour wine, and the latter had mysteriously disappeared after finding its way into King Thanrin’s tent each night. All fifty of the men in their hunting party were silent, the only noise being their breath and the inescapable din of the birds that lurked in the dead trees, as they incessantly scanned the ground for game. Hares, rodents, even coyotes would have done for them at that point. They had long since given up on finding deer, and no matter how much they would have liked to be rid of them, the crows that followed their every step could not be eaten. The King’s new god had made sure of that.
“Just wait a few days more,” King Thanrin was oft heard saying, “Kalarah will provide for us.” The worst part was that they had all believed him for a time, for too long, if truth be told. They had come out to the woods four days ago, going on this insane hunt before the spring had even brought life into the trees, all on the whim of this new deity. War had starved the land of Garelim, as men from Cyrandan in the south had come to burn their farms and salt their fields. After weeks of fasting and locking himself in the back of the newly erected temple, King Thanrin had broken forth claiming that Kalarah had spoken, that they would find food in the frozen forest. Kaldir cursed himself silently for saving Thanrin’s life that day all those years ago, only to be frozen and starved in the woods by a man who professed undying friendship. Better that the King had bled out on a blood-soaked field in Gaar than leave his Kingdom to fend for itself after a brutal war.
Soft snowflakes fell onto Kaldir’s face, but did not melt. He was far too cold for that already, despite his rich, blue cloak that was lined with fur, his fur gloves and his three layers of clothing. Ceaseless wind and snow had seen to that, as well as the lack of proper food and water. It was not right for a king and his knights to freeze and starve to death in a forgotten forest on the very edge of civilization! Something had to be done, and soon.
Kaldir gently nudged his horse forward, going slightly faster and towards the head of the column, where the King rode his pure white gelding. Thanrin rode at a snail’s pace through the wood, his bow slung over his shoulder as he watched for prey. He had taken off his crown, instead donning a soft woolen cap that served better to keep the snow off his ears. “Your Grace,” Kaldir greeted as he arrived at the King’s side.
“Kaldir,” King Thanrin replied with a curt nod. “Do you need something? I am trying to focus right now, and you’re being a bit distracting.”
“I must speak to you of something, Your Grace,” Kaldir said. “Something that would be better said in private.”
The King sighed, shaking his head. “You know that I cannot take my eyes away for even a short while, Kaldir. If I do, I may well miss the stag that was promised me, a great silver thing to show that it is a gift from Kalarah. Catching such a thing could mean food for us for days!”
A stag? Kaldir thought. That was new, not part of the original vision the King claimed that he had had. “It is important, my king,” Kaldir pressed.
Again, Thanrin sighed, louder this time. “Fine, Kaldir. We’ll ride a ways behind the column, so we can speak in private, though this may cost me my prize.” With an irritated look on his face, King Thanrin spurred his horse into motion, followed by Kaldir who rode around his peers once again.
Kaldir felt the pommel of his long sword as he rode beside his King. When they were alone, he said, “We are starving, Your Grace.” It was blunt, but bluntness would be needed to get through to the King. “All we have left to eat is jerky, and that is running out. The water supply is almost dry, and all the wine is gone.”
“What does this matter, Kaldir?” the King asked, as Kaldir expected he would. “Kalarah will provide for us, as he always does. When our food runs out, he gives us more; when our hope leaves us, he gives us strength and will to carry on. We will not starve, Sir Knight.”
Kaldir rolled his eyes, his mouth agape. “Where is this god you speak of? We have known each other all our lives, and only in this past year has Kalarah become known to you. He has never provided us with life, only with an enemy who came and burned our homes and ate our crops. We must go home, Your Grace. Either we leave now, or we die.”
The King’s eyes went wide. “Of course we have no food! It is you who is killing us, Kaldir, with your lack of faith! Kalarah has denied us this because you do not believe he will provide.” Suddenly, the King’s face filled with rage and he wrenched his sword out of its sheathe at his side. “You must be the one who dies, my old friend, so that the rest may have the life that Kalarah freely gives!”
For a moment, Kaldir was surprised as he instinctively whipped his sword above him to fend off a crushing blow to his head. Deflecting blow after blow, though, the surprise slowly wore off. He had known this would happen from the beginning. He had had to kill the King, it was the only choice. Where mere minutes ago he had thought he could persuade Thanrin to take them home, now he knew that death was the only option, and he would not be the one who died today. The choice was simple, one of the choices that mankind had known from its earliest days: kill or be killed.
