Chapter Twenty-Three
Fighting the Truth
With smoke-stained faces, and charred clothes, Andrew and his companions camped a safe distance inland away from danger of the river, and the creatures that dominated it. Ivory flitted around, like a red haired sprite, doctoring everyone’s burns, and washing sooty faces.
They all lay on the ground, sleeping, listening the odd melodic purr of lion bugs that occasionally roared when an intruder entered their domain.
When Andrew awoke in the morning, the sun was already high in the sky. He could smell the mouth-watering aroma of food cooking. His stomach growled.
“Hmm, what's cooking?” Andrew asked, watching with interest as Gogindy leaned over a small fire, with a pot in hand, and a spoon in the other. Andrew peered into the pot, and sniffed.
"Hmm, what is that?" Whatever was cooking inside the pot looked green, and bubbly, not hardly something that could evoke such a wonderful smell.
“Stone fish soup,” Gogindy said, dipping his finger into the liquid, and tasting it. "Tastes like smoke. It's very yummy. Very tasty."
“Where'd you get the fish?"
"Oh, I found it on the side of the shore this morning. So I brought it up to turn it into our brunchfust---breakfast and lunchfust, that is."
"Doesn't look like a fish. Looks more like a green cow pie."
“Well it regardless of what it looks like, it doesn't taste like cow pie, I assure you."
Andrew nodded. "It smells better than a cow pie.” He paused noting that he and Gogindy were the only ones around. “So, where's everybody else?”
Gogindy stirred one of his whiskers in the pot and lifted out, and tasted it. “Ah, no worries. They'll be back as soon as they get a whiff of this fish cooking. Monday is teaching everybody how to fight. Guess after last night he decided that we should be ready for...anything."
Crash!
Startled, Andrew jumped back as a loud clash of metal against metal sounded behind him.
Ivory pushed through the foliage behind Andrew, calling out frantically, "Their coming! Watch out!”
Andrew and Gogindy moved out of the way just as Monday, and Talic, crashed through their camp, nearly overturning Gogindy's pot of soup. Talic swung his sword in front of him like it was a machete, barely even looking where he was swinging. His face was shiny with sweat. He swayed like a drunken man under the weight of his word, struggling to stay upright.
"Keep steady!" Monday shouted, slamming his sword against Talic’s, so hard that the boy cried out, and dropped his sword.
“Owe!” Talic cried in pain, stumbling into a bramble bush. “I surrender! Kill me now and be done with it. I can't fight a grown man when I'm faint with hunger.”
Monday quickly picked up Talic's sword and tossed it back to him. “You've got to have a better grip than that. See, hold it like this." He motioned to his own hands. "Your enemies aren't going to wait for you to pick up your sword if you drop it.”
“I'm beat," Talic heaved, casting Andrew, and Gogindy a tired look. “He's been working, us all to the bone since we woke up. I can't do it any longer. Andrew, Gogindy it's your turn. I surrender. You have beaten me. I knew that Monday would be the death of me one way or another."
Andrew slowly stood, and faced Monday, feeling rather awkward, and unsure. Monday's eyes looked serious and knowing. He held his sword in front of him and its golden hilt glimmered, as a few rays of sunlight caught it. Andrew had never really noticed how beautiful Monday's sword was before now. Its hilt was carved into a shape of eagle’s wings. The handle was shaped like an eagle’s head. Monday looked every strong, and sturdy, like a tree, with roots sunk deep into the ground. For not knowing who he was, he seemed to know a lot more than he let on.
Monday raised his sword. “Ready?”
Andrew slowly nodded, and took out his sword. “You're sure you want to do this? Me using this sword against you will be like you fighting yourself I think..."
"Then this will be very interesting."
Monday took a deliberate step towards Andrew, and then shouted. "Defend yourself!"
What followed was extraordinary. Andrew, with the sword in his hand, felt himself propelled forward, catching Monday's blow perfectly, in a brilliant flash of light, sending a volley of sparks into the air.
Clack!
Andrew felt elated, transformed by the truth and strength Monday gave to the sword. Here, Andrew was not fighting against Monday. Monday, fought against Monday. Every stroke, every step, every move Andrew took was not his own, but Mondays. Even the strength Andrew felt was not his own.
He fought with just as much skill as Monday. Every step of his foot, every strike of the sword, he felt Monday's great strength moving him forward. There was nothing he could not do that Monday did. They fought ceaselessly, until the sun dipped down into the west, and both were dripping in sweat, and too exhausted to fight any more. After all, truth could never truly fight against itself and win. It only could only test itself against its own metal to see how strong it really was.
“Andrew,” Monday panted, dropping his sword and sinking to the ground. "I think...you now know everything I know."
"Not everything," Andrew said, collapsing besides Monday. As he let go of his sword, he gasped in pain, feeling all the strength the sword gave him vanish. His hands were blistered, and his arms felt heavy and bruised. "I don't have your muscle. Gosh, I'm tired. I still don't know why we didn't quit sooner, especially when neither one of us can obviously win."
"Winning wasn't the point," Monday said. "It's how you fight that counts. And I think we both fought pretty well. Don't you think, Gogindy?"
"Fighting is never pretty!" Gogindy huffed. "I'd rather eat any day rather than fight. I'd say a whole lot of the world's problems would be solved if we simply just sat down and ate across from our enemies, until our bellies were so full, that our hearts would have no room for things like anger, hate, and all that foolishness people fight over anyway."
"Not if there was poison at the table," Talic said.
Gogindy folded his little arms and scowled. "Only you would think of that, Talic. Poison indeed. Come, let us cease fighting. All of you must rest, and eat. Talic and Freddie finished off the last of the stone fish soup. And the new pot I boiled is getting cold, and when fish gets cold it tastes very ugly. Come, all of you, it's bedtime now, you must eat and rest!"