JOURNEY TO THE MIDNIGHT SUN
James Sheldon
LOVE CONQUERS ALL
Book 1 of 3
Chapter 20
Coming into consciousness at first light, “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” tired but relaxed.
“Good morning,” echoing the same.
“Good morning,” making it unanimous.
Cody, having lain awake for the past half hour, spoke from under the covers, “Chewy came in the tent last night.”
“You mean he came in a dream?” Jessie inquired redundantly.
“Yeah, I guess, but he seemed so real.” The boy remained under the covers, fearful of becoming emotional in front of the others, “He was wagging his tail so much that, his whole body swayed.”
Emma chimed in, “He came to visit you in the spirit realm Cody, so that you would know and could tell us that he is okay.”
“That would be just like Chewy,” Jessie fondly seconded, donning her caribou furs. “He must be very happy because,” her voice, suddenly going squeaky, “he’s with Cory now.”
In the silence that followed, Sophie’s little voice seemed almost birdlike, “Mommy, I wish Daddy could come to visit.”
“I do too,” Mia uttered, taken off guard, trying not to choke up while performing the simple task of helping the child into her furs. “But you know, today we can be happy because, before Chewy went to be with daddy in the forever, he came running back to tell us that they’re all okay.”
“Are they in glades of sunshine now, mommy?”
“Yes, dear. They walk through flowered glades. They hang their cloaks on sunbeams, and take their seats at a great feast. A banquet table as long as a river!”
Laureal rolled and pushed her face into John’s chest. Her tiredness elevated her emotion and, as she began to shudder, John wrapped his arms around her.
Noah began to cry out loud. Sophie followed suit. Then Cody joined in, followed by Laureal until at last all except John shed tears in a group wailing where, in the din, it nearly seemed Chewy was there with them, going from one human to the next same as a thousand times before, wagging his tail so broadly that his entire body swayed.
Exiting the tent under a pale blue sunrise, John came face to face with Ellie. The giant, having heard the cries of the humans, had come to investigate. Her troubled look was one of seventeen discrete facial expressions horses were said to possess according to 21st century science. That is four more than chimpanzees. Also discovered by 21st century science, horses and dogs were capable of reading an impressive range of human expressions in large part because they’d been walking side by side with humans for many thousands of years. An interspecies relationship with a language all its own. Of course, it could not have been discovered without first being lost.
At breakfast storage boxes from Ellie’s packsaddle once again served as seats around the campfire. A suitable log had been carried to camp as well, to serve as a bench on which John, Laureal, and Cody sat. They had positioned their camp to catch the earliest possible sunlight and presently benefitted from its distant warmth. Steaming hot porridge also helped to ward off the cold. Noah asked Emma if dogs were allowed to stay in heaven or if that was just something nice people said. The Matriarch assured the children, the Creator would not have made such a loving animal as Chewy if not to eventually bring him home. Thus started an impromptu tribute in which family members told happy stories of the old dog. Yike and Nemo, hearing Chewy’s name, lifted their ears and looked about as if expecting him to show up at any moment.
As they finished their breakfast, John looked from one set of tired eyes to another, Emma’s in particular. And when he spoke, it was to her, “We are in no condition to travel today.”
Having agreed, Emma sighed and looked skyward, “I am grateful Lord. But of all the places to take refuge…a Nith, really?”
And so it was decided they would remain for two days. The first day would be spent in rest, performing limited chores like cooking and caring for their animals. The day after would be one of maintaining gear, hunting, and, as we shall see, unexpected discovery.
The following morning John retrieved an oil stone from his gear and, returning to the campfire, sat sharpening his knife in preparation for a hunt.
“Is that a big knife where you come from?” Cody asked, sitting down beside him.
“The biggest,” grinning and sharpening.
“Are all knives made of steel where you come from?”
“Pretty much.”
“Did you make it?”
“Nooo,” his tone low and musical as if to say, “I could not hope to achieve such skill.”
“Do you know who did?”
“Yes,” and pausing, John passed the blade to the boy. “It’s one of a kind, made by a renowned metalsmith.”
“Did you trade many furs for it? “admiring the knife as only a boy could.
“My Order commissioned its making, and paid for it in gold,” said John.
Happy to see John and Cody spending time together, Laureal shot a smile over the campfire. John smiled back. Cody didn’t notice their silent exchange. His eyes were fixed on the knife, but hearing John’s reply, he nodded in the knowledge of what gold was. Then, turning to John with a measure of amazement, “So they gave gold for it, and then what…they just gave it to you?”
“That, and my spear, my bow, my rifle, all my gear, my clothes, and my horse too.”
Astounded, the boy asked, “They just gave all of that to you?”
“Well…yes. They invested it in me, along with many hours of their lives, and in turn, I vowed to carry out the mission they gave me.”
Having grown up on fireside sagas that told of great trials and hard won victories, the boy looked on the Seeker with expectant perspective, “Your deeds must have been great to earn such trust.”
“I did what they asked,” dropping his eyes in the knowledge that he had broken his vows to the Order.
“What does this mean?” pointing to a symbol stamped into the base of the blade.
“Those are the initials of the metalsmith: JH.”
“Initials?”
“Yes,” and rising up, “come,” gesturing for Cody to follow, “I’ll show you.”
The two went to a patch of untrodden ground where, squatting down, John drew the initials C.E. in the snow. “These are your initials. They stand for Cody Emerson.” John then spelled Cody’s name out in the snow, “Your initials are the first letters of your first and last name.” Then pointing from one letter to the next, he sounded out, “C. O. D. Y…Cody, and then, “E. M. E. R. S. O. N…Emerson.”
“Can you draw my father’s initials? I want to put them in my bow.”
“Of course,” and while he drew he asked, “Did your father help you make your bow?”
“He made it, and I helped.”
Having finished the initials, John sounded them out, “O.W., for Orm Westergaard.” Actually, Ormskirk Westergaard, of the House of Westergaard, but having married into a more powerful clan, and taking up with that clan, he had become Ormskirk Westergaard of the house of Emerson, known to most as Orm Emerson.
“My grandfather helped too.”
John spoke the initials as he drew them, “E.E., for Engle Emerson.” Originally Engle Askelson, but, having married into the Emerson Clan, he had chosen the name Engle Emerson which, regardless of his prior poverty, immediately advanced and advantaged him, but only because, as a young man, he was shrewd, bold, and handsome. His granddaughter, Laureal, in marrying John, had become Laureal Summerfield of the House of Emerson, but being from the Emerson clan, her everyday name would remain Laureal Emerson, for it was the practice of her culture that the name of powerful clans be attached to their members as recognition of their bond to said clan.
Returning to the campfire, man and boy seated themselves on the log bench. “It’s balanced,” said Cody, offering his bow so that John might examine it.
“Indeed it is,” taking its measure and nodding in approval.
“Would you scribe the initial marks for me, and, I can do the carving.”
“I suppose you want them small and precise?”
“Yes.”
“Where would you like them?”
“Here,” pointing.
John used a bone punch to scribe the initials, “Your bow is smaller than mine but of no lesser quality,” carefully scribing the final initial, “and my bow is the work of a renowned craftsman to whom my Order paid a small fortune.” Then handing the bow back to Cody, “I take it your father was held in high regard among craftsmen.”
“My Father was a good craftsman, everyone knows that. But perhaps it is also true that everyone in your homeland knows that, your Order has lots of gold.”
John barked a pained laugh.
Unaware of the humor, Cody continued in earnest, “My father told me that an arrow can be made to fly straight and true. And anything we make such, if it be a labor of love, will bring us closer to our Creator because the rocks and trees, and the plants and animals, and everything we make our lives from, are His labor of love for us.”
Gazing at Cody with no small impression, John scarcely thought before speaking, “I would like to have known your Father.”
“I think he would have liked to have known you.”
On the opposite side of the campfire, Jessie held Nemo while Emma checked and tended to his wounds. Neither dog had suffered life-threatening injuries. Just a few yards away, Mia instructed her children, laying out rules for play in the snow. The rules were simple; stay within certain parameters or get a whipping, a far better fate than being disemboweled by starving wolves.
Scraping the wolf hide, Laureal paused to glance up at her groom. He had returned to sharpening his knife. Catching his eye, she smiled affectionately, and he, holding her gaze, smiled back. Meanwhile, beyond the walls of the ruin, the forest stood as if deep asleep, for the day was yet very young and no air stirred to wake the trees.
John sheathed his knife, put two more logs on the fire, fetched his spear, and set to sharpening its steel head. Like his knife, his spear had been custom made for him. Not bejeweled or banded with gold but, same as his knife, strong made and perfectly balanced.
Across the campfire, the women continued working, occasionally speaking between themselves. The twins, both pictures of good health, enjoyed being children, playing under Mia’s watchful eye, safely hemmed in by the walls of the ruin as well as the family camp. Presently having gotten close enough to touch the giant’s leg while she grazed, Noah was trying to talk Sophie into doing the same. Cody, having finished carving the second set of initials and feeling good about the job he’d done, turned to John and matter-of-factly stated, “Your rifle puts these weapons to shame.”
“The hell it does,” also stated matter-of-factly.
Cody appeared taken aback, and all eyes were suddenly on John.
“John, it’s bad enough that you curse, but must you now teach your bad habit to my little brother?”
“I apologize,” feeling the weight of their stares.
Gathering his thoughts, John brought the rifle slowly from his back to front. Only the day before he had disassembled and cleaned it thoroughly, “Cody,” with a softened tone, “this is an awesome weapon and, as I was told; ‘it is a design of genius, a work of exacting craftsmanship.’ And still, even with all that, it cannot put these other weapons to shame.”
The Seeker returned the rifle to its place without another word and went back to sharpening his spear. As he worked he lost himself in a distant memory. A smile creased his lips and he spoke lowly to himself, “What man sharpens here, he dulls over there. He devises to go straight ahead, only to come full circle. So carry on boys, and let the torpedoes be damned.”
Laureal glanced up from her work, “John!”
“I’m not cursing, I’m quoting,” examining the spearhead, well satisfied with the edge he had put on it.
“Where did you hear that?” Cody asked.
“From an old Seeker, just moments before he fell off a table in a tavern. My friends and I were green cadets. We weren’t supposed to be there. Could have gotten into a lot of trouble!” Summerfield chuckled even as he shook his head, “Anyway, he left quite an impression on us. For weeks afterwards we mimicked him and had good laughs at his expense. But that was long ago. Now, with what I’ve come to know, I think that old drunkard may have known something.”
“Why do you say that?”
John took on a covert air. He glanced towards the women as if to make sure they were not listening. They were involved in their work. He then brought his rifle from his back to his lap and, as if play acting, spoke in low tones to share knowledge meant for elite warriors only, “In my homeland, from the time I was a small boy, I was taught that a new breed of man had risen, and, it was my great fortune to be born into their world. I was to follow in their footsteps. I was to do things in their new and better way. This meant I was not a raider of tombs but a seeker of knowledge for the betterment of all humanity.”
The Seeker took his spear in one hand and his rifle in the other, “This,” gesturing with the spear, “is the old way.” And gesturing with the rifle, “This, is the new way.”
“Truly, it is a great weapon,” visibly impressed.
“Someday, not all that far from now, it will be produced in enough quantity to outfit a standing army. Then my people will expand their domain, for it is their sincere desire that everyone on earth benefit from their new way of life.”
As his words trailed off, John fell into silent thought, his eyes fixed on the rifle.
“Do your people want everyone to have better tools?”
“For the most part, yes,” drifting back in his mind, retracing his steps. “I’ll never forget the day I learned about this rifle. I had only just become a Seeker. I was taken aside by my superiors. They escorted me to a closed carriage, itself heavily guarded by mounted riders. I climbed in alone. And there, to my great surprise, sat none other than the Grand Master of our Order! A legend in his own time, he was seldom seen in public, being greatly aged. The most I ever saw of him was at my graduation when he gave a brief speech. Later, when I was chosen as ‘Seeker,’ we shook hands and shared a few words in a formal ceremony. It may only have been protocol, done countless times before but for me, it was the pinnacle of my career. Still, with all that, I never imagined sitting face-to-face with him, having a private meeting. But there we were. He began with a few niceties. He seemed to know everything about me. He said it had been decided I was to be outfitted with a new weapon and, with it, I would be greatly advantaged in my quest. He spoke at length about the Data Block. He spoke of ‘the lost age.’ He spoke of towers that rose into the sky, of men that flew above the clouds, and even walked on the moon. I had heard the stories before. I’d heard them all my life. And I believed them. I still believe them.
“Anyway, we hadn’t gone far when our carriage rolled through the gates of our armory. We went inside, through guarded doors, into a special chamber where this weapon was placed in my hands. It seemed so foreign and complex, I could not help but wonder, ‘How will I master this strange device in such short order?’ For I was soon to depart on my mission. But as it turned out, it was easy to master. Or at least it seemed a piece of cake when compared to, say, throwing a hatchet and hitting a bulls-eye while riding bareback at full gallop.”
“That’s why you chafed.”
“Yes. And, I don’t know but sometimes I find myself wondering if, even as this augmentation increases my ability, my improvement is, in reality, an illusion. And, well, I think that was his meaning, the drunken old Seeker, I mean.”
Breaking into a grin, John repeated the quote, “‘So carry on boys, and let the torpedoes be damned.’”
Cody stared in confusion.
Anyway,” said John, pursing his lips into a contrite smile, “I apologize for chafing.”
“Apology accepted.”
Lifting his rifle, John pointed it in a safe direction and gazed through its sights, “In my homeland, before my time, battles were fought that blackened the sky with arrows, and still the world survived.” Then lowering the weapon, he turned to Cody with solemn expression, “A new kind of power is rising in the world outside this forest. A power derived from knowledge brought up from ruins that dwarf this place. And if by chance those that seek power were to suddenly find a great trove of knowledge in the palm of their hand…well, I fear they would sweep this family’s way of life away before they could see clearly enough to recognize the value of what they destroyed.”
Struck silent, Cody gazed at John.
“There’s no good to be found in worrying about it,” John quickly added. “Besides, the changes I speak of are far off. You may never see them in your lifetime. But I have seen enough to know they are coming. And when they come, we won’t be able to stop them any more than we could turn back a river in flood.”
“There must be something we can do.”
“Carry on…and let the torpedoes be damned.” Rising up, the Seeker passed his rifle to the boy, slung his bow and quiver on his back and took up his spear, “Look after the family.”
“Hey,” starting after John.
“Yeah,” turning around.
“What does this mean?” pointing to a medallion inlaid on the stock of the rifle. Cody had seen the symbol on John’s knife and spear, and even embroidered on his shirt. The medallion, being the size of a large coin but oval in shape, had a face divided into four tiny panels, each a detailed engraving. And presently Cody could not help wondering if the engraved pictures told of the world beyond the forest and the flood of change that John spoke of.
“That’s the insignia of my Order,” John replied. “No one knows its true origin, but it is believed to come from ‘the lost age.’”
The Seeker pointed to the panel in the upper right corner of the medallion where engraved was a man of arms charging on horseback, “This panel stands for courage, most valued of all possessions.” Then pointing to the upper left where a robed man stood at lectern with open book, “This panel stands for knowledge, second most valued of all possessions.” Then pointing to the lower left where a blacksmith worked at his forge, “This stands for dedication and application of skill, through which men of courage and knowledge forge assets for the betterment of all humankind.” And finally pointing to the lower right where a ship sailed on an ocean, “This stands for man’s natural desire to discover what lies beyond the horizon, his journey into the unknown.”
Cody seemed confused, “If these panels represent the changes you speak of, then this does not seem all that bad.”
“They are ideals,” said John, his tone and expression saying, “don’t count on men to follow them.”
“What about this symbol? Does it bring the ideals together?”
“What symbol?”
“Right there,” pointing to the center of the insignia as though it were obvious. “It looks like one of the symbols you drew in the snow.”
“Oh that,” said John, “that’s no symbol…well, it could be a ‘t’ in lower case, but that’s not what it is. It’s only a border, to divide the panels. It doesn’t mean anything.”
