When Brendon-Jago, the OneWhoMustRemember, returned to the Cave of Remembrance, he found Kyle stretched out on the floor where they were sitting almost seven hours ago. However, the cave, as a whole, looked much cleaner. The rock floor must have been swept, for the lack of the normal dirt and dust that had graced it since he could remember. He pulled the bucket out from the wall and was astonished to find it almost full to the very top. For the first time in a long while, he let his own self-preservation dictate his actions. He allowed himself not one handful of the clean liquid, but three. Jago replaced the bucket and stood to walk to his son when something new caught his attention.
It was a brown woolen bag on the floor under the rock out cropping shelf holding his wooden cup and a few miscellaneous items. He walked over to it and opened it up to find it full of potatoes and carrots; both boiled. He put one of each on his stone desk and sat down to partake in this true feast, all the while watching his boy sleep on the ground next to him. He did not care where the food or water came from, tradition or not. This gift was one of the most thoughtful gifts he had received, except for his son, in the thirty years since he had given up all life was to watch for the sign. “Kyle,” he said softly, not wanting to scare the boy, “wake up.”
Kyle started moving.
“I’m very pleased to see what you did to the cave, my son,” he said when the boys eyes started opening. “It looks wonderful. The food and water, too, were a surprise I could not thank you enough for with words.”
“Huh? What?” the boy asked while rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. “What food and water, Papa? I did nothing to the cave. I hate to disappoint you, but I slept right here the entire time you were away.” The boy sat up and looked around the cave. His eyes went wide with surprise. “It was not a dream then,” he said slowly. “I-I-I thought I had a strange dream about being kissed on the forehead by Mama, which would be strange because she hasn’t kissed me since I can remember.
I looked up and saw the woman next door kneeling over me. You know, the same one who gave me the potatoes to give to you. The way she was looking down at me made me imagine I was a little babe in her arms, Papa. I felt all warm on the inside, though not with fever like I did last year. Remember that time, Papa? I felt like I rolled down the mountain for over a wee-”.
“Kyle,” Papa interrupted him, “back to your ‘dream’ and the woman, ok?”
“Yes, sire. I was looking up at her and then she rubbed my cheek with the backside of her hand and kissed my forehead. She whispered something about me being the one to make all her dreams come true, and then she kissed my forehead again. I can almost feel the warm sweet breath against my skin. Papa, it was wonderful… and it must not have been a dream at all.
Why would she do that, Papa? And why clean the cave at all? Doesn’t she know that is Mama’s job? Not that Mama ever did it and why-”
The OneWhoMustRemember held out his hand silencing the boy. “Some things are not for you to know, little one,” he said. “I have plenty of things for you to learn and know for when you become what I am now.” He picked up the Book of the Faithless and discovered a piece of goatskin folded up underneath. He started to unfold the skin, and saw writing. He folded it back up and slipped it into his robe pocket.
“Odd,” he thought. “Nobody reads and writes except for those who look for the sign, and the military commanders.” Brendon-Jago knew after his lesson with Kyle that there would be enough time to read the skin and his questions about it would be answered, but priorities were priorities. He sat himself down on the ground and leaned his back against the slopping wall right next to his son.
“Kyle,” he said while looking directly into Kyle’s eyes, “it is now time for you to start studying the book so that you will one day be ready to take my place looking for the sign. It is not an easy thing to do, as most people believe, but it must be done so all will be ready when the Coming arrives. Let us start from the beginning.
I want you to read.” He handed the boy the leather wrapped book and saw the look of wonder on his son’s face as he held the book for the first time. For quite a while now, Kyle had been coming up from their home, nestled at the base of the mountain, for his lessens on reading and writing. He was a gifted learner and had no problems mastering in under a year what Papa had taken many years to learn. “Go ahead my son. Open it. Read it. And remember it.”
Kyle slowly placed the book on his lap and carefully opened the book cover. There was no introduction to the book, nor was there any formal beginning. Kyle read aloud in a weak voice, just loud enough for his Papa to hear, sitting right next to him.
"A day will come when out forth from the greatest peak, riding the wind, shall darkness’s Harold unfold to battle the Light. Light’s power of will first be weakened, and then will fade altogether. The sun will hide in fear of what is to Come. Darkness will claim the sky and shout to all of the glorious Coming.
With Darkness’s triumph, at the blackest hour, He shall be born of flesh and fire. The most substantial one amongst you will offer Him them self, and so shall be the first to enter the Eternal Darkness in His name.
The Lost and the Faithless that you are now, you will no longer be.
He will come, and you will be His."
Kyle paused for a second before asking the question, "What does it all mean, Papa?"
"That is the prophecy of why our people must wait here. There is someone great who will come into our lives, and we must be here to serve him. The ‘how’s’ and ‘why’s’ of the matter are not known to anyone. But the OneWhoBroughtUs led us here for this one reason almost a thousand years ago.”
“Wow,” was the reply from Kyle, still in awe of not only being allowed to hold the hallowed Book of the Faithless, but also at being able to read from it.
Brendon-Jago continued his explanation, “Every morning before dawn I make my way up to the One-Day Mountain to look for the sign of that Coming. I really don’t know exactly what to look for, but nothing changes morning to morning, so I fear not that I have missed anything.”
“So you go up there, every day, looking for something, but you don’t know what? That doesn’t make sense, Papa,” Kyle said after a moment of careful consideration.
“Let us read some more pages for today, and it should answer some of the confusion you have. Keep in mind though, that even I do not know what some of the things written in the book mean. For whatever reason, the knowledge had either never been given to us by the OneWhoBroughtUs, or we have been ignorant and lost that knowledge forever.
“I don’t know which, but we still know enough to do our job, and that is the topmost of what matters,” the OneWhoMustRemember stated. Then he motioned to the book as a sign to begin the next passage.
Kyle took a deep breath and began.
((((()))))
"I have brought you here to allow you an escape from certain death. Death those who robbed Darkness of its hold on the land would have carried forth unto you. I have brought you here so the less than one-hundred that you are now can multiply and grow stronger.
I have brought you here because it is here that Darkness will be reborn for you.
I have brought you here to follow these rules I lay down in order for you and those of you yet to come, to have the revenge you deserve and should demand.
I have brought you here to obey my words.
I have brought you here to wait for the Darkness.
For that reason:
I have brought the blacksmiths here to create their forges. From these all shall benefit as a mass of weapons will be created. Never stop, never slow, never tire in your efforts. For you shall fuel the Pain of Darkness against the Light.
I have brought the crop farmers to plant their crops. From these all shall benefit. Never stop, never slow, never tire in your efforts. For you will feed the Pain of Darkness against the Light.
I have brought the cattle farmers to
raise their cattle. From these all shall benefit. Never stop, never slow, never tire. For you will clothe and feed the Pain of Darkness against the Light.
I have brought the soldiers to train for battle. From them all shall benefit. Never stop, never slow, never tire. For you will BE the Pain of Darkness against the Light.
You will all live here, in the Land of the Faithless, working TOWARDS Darkness FOR Darkness.
All children born shall be given over to the farms to be first raised, and then work for Darkness.
When the sons reach the age of ten full years, they will see the OneWhoPlaces. The first six will take their place and train with the soldiers. So they shall until the Eternal Darkness takes them back home. The next two will take their place with the crop farmers to make food for all. And so they shall until the Eternal Darkness takes them back home. The next two will take their place with the cattle farmers to supply all the meat and skins. And so they shall until the Eternal Darkness takes them home. That cycle shall continue indefinitely.
When the daughters reach the age of fourteen full years, they will be given over to the apartments. There they will become one with child to begin the life cycle anew. When the women in the apartments are too old to produce, they will move to the farms to assist in raising the newborn children.
The children are under no obligation to do as the OneWhoPlaces dictates; however, the soldiers are, from this moment forth, ordered to send those deviants into the Eternal Darkness.
One among you will be tasked with remembering my words. You will watch for the sign of the Coming. From this, all shall benefit. He will take a woman and she will take with his child. She will continue birthing until her newborn is a male.
If daughters are brought forth from her womb, they shall go to the farms.
The male child shall stay with the son-bringer of the OneWhoMustRemember, until he is old enough to learn the signs of the Coming. He will take his fathers place when time and situation demands it.
Shelter shall be given to the OneWhoMustRemember, together with his woman and child. For his job is not to build, but to watch. Clothing shall be given to the OneWhoMustRemember and his family. For his job is not to raise cattle, but to watch. Protection shall be given to the OneWhoMustRemember and his family. For his job is not to fight, but to watch. Lastly, food shall be given to the son-bringer of the OneWhoMustRemember, for it is not the watcher’s job to grow or prepare food. The Son-Bringer will take the food and serve her husband, her son and herself from three plates of food daily given.”
((((()))))
Kyle paused his reading and looked up into his father's eyes. "Papa, I understand why you are angry with Mama about the food, now."
Children often did say the least expected things at times. He did believe the boy, when Kyle said he understood; if only not on the grander scale of a fully-grown man. He really looked closely at Kyle just then, and what he saw took him back a little. There, sitting where his little boy was just moments ago, was an independent thinking adolescent on the verge of manhood.
"Well," he continued thinking, "maybe not manhood yet, but he is certainly not a little boy any longer."
“Papa, do I have any sisters?” the boy asked out of the blue, snapping his father’s attention back from the private thoughts he was lost in.
Papa gently took the open book from Kyle’s lap and placed it on his own after closing it. Here it was, the moment he had remembered for all these long years. Only now, he was the grown one looking down into his son’s eyes instead of up into his own father’s. Though he knew from experience that this question, for a child, was innocent enough, it was still one of the questions he had secretly wished there were no words to form for the asking of it.
All too clearly, he could see his father's far-off distant look after he asked the very same question, thirty-five some odd years ago. That look did not last but a heartbeat or two before anger took the helm of his father's emotions. He could remember first seeing sparks of that anger as it danced around his sire’s squinted eyes. Growing up, he always knew his father could hit hard, he was reminded time and time again of that fact. And this time was no different. In one long drawn out moment in time, which had been permanently etched into his memory, his father proved it again.
They were standing in front of the Cave of Remembrance when as a boy, Jago asked the same question. He saw those angry eyes settle on him, and though he knew not what it was, he knew he had made a mistake. That knowledge was heightened when he saw his Papa's left arm slowly draw back around his right side. His Papa drew it back far enough where he actually had to pivot his hips to finish the windup. With crisp detail that only the mind has capabilities to capture, in slow motion he saw that arm and body combination pause slightly as they reached the end of travel in that direction before beginning its forward assault.
It was as though his hand was one of the leather wrapped grass balls attached to a tendon off one animal or another the younger Soldiers of Darkness used when first learning about the theory of “continued killing". The tendon would be attached to a stake in the ground and the soldier would hit the leather ball with a wooden practice sword. It would shoot forward until the tendon stretched tight, where the ball would pause as if unsure of what to do. The next thing the young soldier knew, the ball was shooting back at him from the force of the recoiling tendon. It was the soldier's job to swing the sword and hit it again and again. Swing to the left swing, to the right, repeatedly and “SMACK”, one day-dream ended and the prior one continued. His father backhanded him so hard he was swept off his feet and landed in a crumpled heap a few paces to his father's left side.
"Boy," Jago’s father spit out angrily, “of course you have sisters. You took long enough to come. You broke your Mama’s heart by forcing her to give up her own flesh and blood for the promise of being able to keep a boy. Don't you dare ask anything like that again.
“Do you hear me?"
After no reply was given, his father stalked up to him. Not to help him up, but to better stare down at him. His voice lowered into a growl, “I thought I asked you a question, boy.
“Do you hear me?"
All young Brendon-Jago could do was nod, for pain, fear, and shock had taken his voice away. Tears had also taken his vision. He saw the blurry bulk of his father as he bent towards him and though he was already sprawled on the rocky ground, he involuntarily tried to shrink lower. His father’s huge arms reached down and effortlessly lifted him up to his feet.
"Go see your mother and have her clean you up," his Papa told him. "You tell her you fell down on your way up here. I will be down to eat later. You make sure she had not eaten yet, boy."
Brendon-Jago had yet to break the two vows he made unto himself while stumbling over the rocky ground, on the six-hour trek back down the mountain to the small house where his mother would be. The first was he would never physically hurt his future son as he so many times had been. Second, he would always be the last to eat, so his family would not go hungry as he had so many times.
Either his father would come home, or more often then not, his mother would walk the three plates up to his father who would be in the cave. Papa would eat most of the food, but was caring enough to save some gristle or scraps for he and his Mom to share. While the memory faded out, Jago fingered the scar that ran down his face from where his left eye met his nose to his upper left lip. A forever remembrance of the cut he received that day. It was now the symbol of his loyalty to his family. He looked down at his son and realized now how the Cycle of Life continued and yet at the same time, could be changed by those wishing it.
"You have many sisters Kyle," he said warmly with happiness in his eyes. “They are all working towards Darkness, for Darkness, as we were taught. Please do not ask who they are, for I know not who they are these days. They, however, were gifts to my soul as each was born.
“Do not, as well, ask your mother abou
t them. The pain of giving them up for you still haunts her. She thought she should, and would, have a boy the first time with child. It was not until the twenty-fifth that you finally came." He patted the boys back gently.
"So that's why Mama hates me so, and why life for her did not turn out the way she thought?" Kyle asked.
Twice in one day, the boy surprised him with the understanding that should have been well out of reach for one his age. Not wanting to lie to his son, he admitted that even though he firmly believes Mama loves him true, the fact was, yes, his mother did believe she should have had a son the very first try. It was a belief that stained her attitude about her life in general. It could not be her fault, so blame was naturally passed first to Jago, and then to the child upon his birth.
"She holds it more against me, as a father, then you, as the son," he said sadly, while patting the boy’s knee. He continued, "She has said, too many times to forget, that if I had been more of a man, I would have gotten it right the first time. As if I really had any control of the outcome of events such as that." He chuckled before saying, "And always remember this, most of all, that to me you are the son that not only have I always wanted, but you are the son I always tried to be for my father, but always seemed to fail at."
"Papa, if you would not be offended,” Kyle began, “I would like to say that you are the bestest father I have ever had, and I believe that maybe, if your father had been more like you, he would have been the bestest father you ever had, too." Kyle then turned to face his father.
The OneWhoMustRemember reached up with a finger and wiped a tear from his eye. "That was the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me, Brendon-Kyle, thank you," he said and then took his son into his arms and held him tight.
After Kyle left for the evening, having first eaten a real dinner of carrots, potatoes, and water, the OneWhoMustRemember made his way inside his cave for a short nap before he was to make his daily pilgrimage up the three-hour trail to see if the new day would be THE day. If it were not, he had planned to go have words with Odeesma, Kyle’s mother. It needed to be done. However, that also meant he would have just as little time to sleep tomorrow.
"Being the 'bestest' father he ever had does come with sacrifices. But they are indeed well worth it," he thought as sleep wrapped her arms around him, making him forget still of the unread note in his pocket that had been placed under the Book of the Faithless.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WHAT’S LEFT TO REMEMBER