Hail To The King

Chapter Four: This Means War

The Shepherd returned to the city square at dusk on the flying hooves of the mare. A few people were there, standing in small clusters, speaking to each other in hushed voices. They turned to stare at the man as he brought his horse to a halt and dismounted before them. “Gather your people.” He told them, voice like thunder over the ocean’s waves. “There are important matters which must be discussed.”

He waited, eyes sweeping over the townsfolk, until they had all assembled before him. The Shepherd allowed small smile to grace his features as James pushed his way to the front, but it vanished just as soon as it appeared. The air was warm and dry, and a soft breeze carried over the people from the sea. They spoke together in hushed whispers, curiosity gnawing at them, wondering why the Shepherd gathered them. Had he slain the king? Were they free?

The Shepherd held up a calloused hand. Fluttering lips ceased their speech, eager eyes turned toward the man, ears becoming more alert to pick up his every word.

“I have spoken to your king,” The Shepherd stated, “and he has demonstrated an unwillingness to discuss a diplomatic solution.”

“Did you slay him?” James asked excitedly, shifting from foot to foot.

“I did not.” The Shepherd replied, much to the city’s dismay. “I have decided that we must all take action… by means of war.”

Murmurs of unease swept through the crowd. They had not fought one battle in all of their years, now they must fight to overthrow their king? A mass account of treason that, if failed, would send the whole city spiraling into further destruction?

“I will not fight.” One man stated firmly, “I value my life, and the lives of my children.” Another man agreed with him, and the mood of opposition spread throughout them.

Frustration coursed through the Shepherd, and he exclaimed, “You must! Is this life all you wish for yourselves? To hide your faces, harboring in the shadows? Do you wish to live your lives feeling this weight of sin, continuously hammering away? Heed my words, if you continue this way you will die with the guilt of soldiers who cowardly avoided the fight. You will die, helplessly watching the scythe usher you astray. We cannot go on this way, not as we are today. We must ready our weapons, our swords, our bows, and fight against your oppressor. We must fight!”

Instead of the roar of approval the Shepherd had grown accustomed to hearing from the townsfolk, they stood silent, fear shining behind their eyes. They had no intentions on fighting. They were frightened.

“If you speak of change, yet do nothing about it, it will carry you nowhere!” the man pressed, “You will remain in this mental holocaust, and your battle will never end. You will daily have to lie to yourselves in order to mask the pain of your forsaken children. You must walk the razor’s edge and cut into the madness. It is mandatory that you question what you trust, in order to be rid of this ever present fear. I implore you once again, this means war!”

The people shifted anxiously. Nightmare stamped her hoof and snorted, sensing the nervous energy that possessed the townsfolk. Somewhere else in the city, a dog barked.

The Shepherd’s chest heaved with a sigh, and he began again, in a quieter, humble voice. “You see, I let go of myself long ago, although I could never explain to you why. When I die, there will be no one to miss me. There is not much more I can say; I have no argument to stay here among you, except I can lead you into battle. I have no home to call my own, no one to break my falls, no name to carry on. They were all stolen from me.”

Quiet speech began again among the people. James asked meekly, “Who could take so much away from you Shepherd?”

The man sighed, looking out at the sea of weary faces. “I was young, your age, James, when the king that leads you destroyed my city. He slaughtered my family like hogs before a feast. I know this man who is ripping at your souls. I know him all too well.” There was a great pain behind his eyes as he asked softly, “Won’t you join me in war to defeat your king?”

Again, he was met with silence. A small voice, James, called out, “I will aid you in war, Shepherd.”

He smiled at the meager offer and shook his head, “James, you are much too young.”

The boy frowned, “I am not too young! I am twelve years of age! Practically a man! Please, sir, let me serve you in combat!”

“Hush,” his mother whispered, looking down at the child warningly, “that is enough, James.”

Anger slowly replaced the pain in the Shepherd’s heart. “Is this your decision? You will stand and rot as your king slowly murders you?”

“We are not strong enough to do what you ask of us.” A man stated, receiving murmurs of agreement from the crowd.

The Shepherd looked at them sadly. He knew this was true. Slowly, he nodded. “I understand. I shall be gone from your presence this moment.”

The people looked torn as the Shepherd swung onto his steed. “I pray the best for you.” He told the people, “May the wind be on your wings, and the stars watch over you.”

He whispered to Nightmare, and she whinnied before they galloped off into the west.

“No!” James cried, tearing from his mother’s grip. He ran as swiftly as his legs could carry him. “Shepherd, stop! Please!”

A man scooped up the boy and returned him to his mother. “Come along,” he muttered, “off to bed with you.”

He struggled at first, kicking and screaming and shouting, but stopped after a short time. The Shepherd was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

James waited in his bed in the loft until late at night, when he was sure the whole town was sleeping. Slowly, he crept past his mother and out the door, into the city.

The night was dark. Clouds covered the stars and the moon, making it hard for James to see anything as he snuck along the roads of the city. Only the whores and drunkards were awake at this time, and James slipped around them with ease. He shouldered his small pack and raced out into the wheat fields to the west of the city, where the Shepherd had arrived the day before.

He knew the city could not continue to live they way that they were. The Shepherd was right; they needed to fight if they expected to obtain freedom. And he was going to find the Shepherd, no matter what it took.