An Alternate Slice of Reality
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The Lake
A Knight's Tale Part 2
My father was not a good man, but he did love me. He murdered my mother on the day of my birth, chopping her body into 12 pieces and sinking them into the edge of the 12 springs on the far side of the woods. Love, he said, was the reason.
Spoiler
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53143999045_7fcc02b434_c.jpg
When I turned 9, he took me to the woods, and introduced me to my mother. The 12 springs, at this time, had become a lake.
“This,” he said,” is the Lake of your being and it is what remains of your mother.”
When I told him that it was just a lake, he replied that it was not so, as my mother’s blood now filled the foundations of the lake and flowed with the water which bubbled up from the springs. She had died a violent death brought on by the choices of her own wickedness, he explained. Her magick mingled with the ground and fed the roots of all the plant life surrounding the lake, and it also flowed into the springs which filled the lake. The lake had swallowed my mother’s essence and melded with it. Everything that my mother had been, was now contained in the lake. Her memories, her voice, her desires, her fears, her wants, her needs. Her magick. Everything. The lake had consumed her and had become her. The lake was my mother. So, there we knelt, at the edge of the lake. And I said hello to the woman who birthed me.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53142988637_f4e846b41b_c.jpg
After the time of silence had faded, he told me my history. For himself, he was knighted a legend, one of the foundlings who bore the marks and scars of the Rampage War. He was older than anyone knew. He didn’t remember being a child as it had been so very long ago. He had watched the mountains grow tall and the valleys sink low. He had seen the stars burst and night sky grow dim at the shifting of time. His uncle had been King of the First Tribe in the Earliest Days. But his uncle had died an early death and left no heir. As the only living relative, he had been offered the Kingship but he had turned it down. When I asked him why, he said it was because he knew the truth. What is the truth? I wanted to know.
“The truth is that very few kings will live a very long life,” he had said. “Most find an early grave. There are too many kings and not enough planners. I have a gift for planning. So, the Council agreed with my abdication, and gave Kingship to another household.”
He sighed while he smiled, “I am a Planner, and I have planned well. Someday, everything that I have shall be yours. Everything.” He smiled a very satisfied smile.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53143578016_760eb59af8_c.jpg
He continued on,” For thousands of years, my family bore sons. It is the way now. The Rampage War settled it. “
“I have had many sons,” he proclaimed, looking at me sideways and gauging my reaction. I asked him how many sons. He stopped and broadly smiled at me. My father rarely smiled so large, and I was taken aback by this. It did not suit his face at all.
“I am very old” he replied, “and I have had many, many, wives. “
And then quite proudly he pronounced that he had 1,999 sons. He grabbed a strand of my hair.
“You are the Aberration”, he said. It was a word I did not know, so I asked about it. He told me that it meant I was odd but I was not to worry about it. He told me that his time was now short, and that he would have no more children. I was the last one. He smiled.
“You are both my favorite and my least favorite. No trouble at all and yet the most troublesome one, ever.” I had smiled at this as it was absolutely true and that pleased me.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53143786724_b19b7a4416_c.jpg
After that, he motioned me to kneel again, and having done so, he sang a brief song of lament. The words were complex and woven together like fabric. It made the air a bit tricky to breathe. Then a mist rose up from the lake and settled upon the dock, taking shape and form.
His voice became grim and he whispered rather raspy. "Don't be afraid. She was dead when I buried her, and dead she shall remain."
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53143046947_1d70454124_c.jpg
When I turned 9, he took me to the woods, and introduced me to my mother. The 12 springs, at this time, had become a lake.
“This,” he said,” is the Lake of your being and it is what remains of your mother.”
When I told him that it was just a lake, he replied that it was not so, as my mother’s blood now filled the foundations of the lake and flowed with the water which bubbled up from the springs. She had died a violent death brought on by the choices of her own wickedness, he explained. Her magick mingled with the ground and fed the roots of all the plant life surrounding the lake, and it also flowed into the springs which filled the lake. The lake had swallowed my mother’s essence and melded with it. Everything that my mother had been, was now contained in the lake. Her memories, her voice, her desires, her fears, her wants, her needs. Her magick. Everything. The lake had consumed her and had become her. The lake was my mother. So, there we knelt, at the edge of the lake. And I said hello to the woman who birthed me.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53142988637_f4e846b41b_c.jpg
After the time of silence had faded, he told me my history. For himself, he was knighted a legend, one of the foundlings who bore the marks and scars of the Rampage War. He was older than anyone knew. He didn’t remember being a child as it had been so very long ago. He had watched the mountains grow tall and the valleys sink low. He had seen the stars burst and night sky grow dim at the shifting of time. His uncle had been King of the First Tribe in the Earliest Days. But his uncle had died an early death and left no heir. As the only living relative, he had been offered the Kingship but he had turned it down. When I asked him why, he said it was because he knew the truth. What is the truth? I wanted to know.
“The truth is that very few kings will live a very long life,” he had said. “Most find an early grave. There are too many kings and not enough planners. I have a gift for planning. So, the Council agreed with my abdication, and gave Kingship to another household.”
He sighed while he smiled, “I am a Planner, and I have planned well. Someday, everything that I have shall be yours. Everything.” He smiled a very satisfied smile.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53143578016_760eb59af8_c.jpg
He continued on,” For thousands of years, my family bore sons. It is the way now. The Rampage War settled it. “
“I have had many sons,” he proclaimed, looking at me sideways and gauging my reaction. I asked him how many sons. He stopped and broadly smiled at me. My father rarely smiled so large, and I was taken aback by this. It did not suit his face at all.
“I am very old” he replied, “and I have had many, many, wives. “
And then quite proudly he pronounced that he had 1,999 sons. He grabbed a strand of my hair.
“You are the Aberration”, he said. It was a word I did not know, so I asked about it. He told me that it meant I was odd but I was not to worry about it. He told me that his time was now short, and that he would have no more children. I was the last one. He smiled.
“You are both my favorite and my least favorite. No trouble at all and yet the most troublesome one, ever.” I had smiled at this as it was absolutely true and that pleased me.
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53143786724_b19b7a4416_c.jpg
After that, he motioned me to kneel again, and having done so, he sang a brief song of lament. The words were complex and woven together like fabric. It made the air a bit tricky to breathe. Then a mist rose up from the lake and settled upon the dock, taking shape and form.
His voice became grim and he whispered rather raspy. "Don't be afraid. She was dead when I buried her, and dead she shall remain."
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/53143046947_1d70454124_c.jpg
