When You Are As Ready As You Will Ever Be and Sense Something is Off

In a time long ago, in a land not far from here, the morning mist hovered above the ground of the small village. In the distance, black smoke rose to mix with early dawn.

Traden, and his twin sister, Irinae, emerged from their hut. They shared the same height, same piercing green eyes, and same shade of hair. They were both even-tempered, swifter than stronger, more deliberate than reactionary. At fourteen years old, they were already highly regarded.

But on this day, all eyes were fixed on another pair, the selected pair. A man and woman walked through an aisle of people who didn’t necessarily cheer, but did nod and smile encouragement. This pair was the next hope.

The black smoke seen in distant skies signaled another victory for the dragon. Huts had burned. Lives had been lost. Nightmares had come true. Dreams had died.

It was the rule of the land: Once a dragon claimed a region, a demand was made. Sacrifice to the dragon, and village life was permitted to carry on. Fail, and the whole village was lost. But the sacrifice was one body a month, and it had to be the life from a different village. For a village to survive, they became kidnappers and murderers. As a result, villages became suspicious of others, guarded, division in the land the norm.

To fight was the one exception to the rule. Dragons welcomed battle over sacrifice. The terms were clear: Three different pairs of a young man and woman, three different attempts. Three fails, and the village would be consumed. Sacrifice or put up your best fight. Everyone knew that in reality the offer meant life or death. Dragons didn’t lose.

This dragon’s long tail dragged through the ashes and embers, swishing them aside as easily as he had consumed the villagers. Perhaps the next village would comply, and if not, present a greater challenge. The dragon loved the challenge.

Traden and Irinae’s village didn’t hesitate as their time neared. Sacrifice of any villager was out of the question.

As the first pair made their way through the crowd, Traden and Irinae exchanged a glance: This couple were the best trained, the strongest by far, valiant in their ability to hunt and defend. They had been disciplined in the arts of war, educated in battle strategy, indoctrinated in their identity: Warriors, son and daughter, heirs to village fortune. They marched with confidence. It would have been rightly placed if their enemy was of the same nature as they.

As Traden and Irinae looked on, a pair of older, wrinkled, tried hands grabbed their shoulders. They turned their heads, saw the scratches that marked the hands, scabs sprinkled about, dirt staining them beyond cleaning. Traden and Irinae looked into the distance and prepared to listen. His voice always followed his touch.

“Are they ready?”

“No, Master.”

“But they are confident, and skilled, trained by the best our village has to offer. They do not waver in belief about all this village stands for, nor do they hesitate to do what is before them. They stand tall in who they are, strong in what they do, skilled in what they will do. Yet, you say they are not ready?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Because?”

“They know who they are,” Traden said.

“But they don’t know why,” Irinae answered.

It was a refrain the voice had spoken many times before.

“And knowing who you are without knowing why you are…,” asked the voice.

“Is the hunting ground of misdirection,” they answered.

The three of them watched as the pair cleared the crowd, their backs to the village, their faces to the forest, their steps taking them beyond view.

“They will never even make it to that beast. The journey will be perilous. The assaults relentless. The traps unseen until too late. It is only a matter of time until they make this about themselves. They will be exhausted, discouraged, and doubtful. They will have each other and yet feel alone. If they don’t give out, they will give up. And, if somehow, they make it to him, death will seem a mercy compared to what that beast will expose them to. I have trained you differently for a reason.”

The hands withdrew. The voice left.

Irinae turned and walked a few paces back to the hut. She grabbed her sword.

“We’re next. Let’s train. It won’t be long.”

2.

The bodies had been recovered. Burial would take place as the sun set. Traden and Irinae would not be present. Dawn would see them embark into their own battle, so as custom, they remained in the Tent of Dedication, a single candle burning in the center.

           “Did you see the look on their faces, Traden?”

           “I didn’t need to look. I don’t need to know. I don’t want to guess. Come on, Irinae, we are ready as we will ever be.”

           “That doesn’t mean we are ready.”

           “What’s our job?”

           “To listen.”

           “What’s our strength?”

           “Shared.”

           “What’s our problem?”

           “The dragon hates us.”

           “And?”

           “We don’t know what we may face. We are not in control.”

           “And?”

           “We are not as formed as we shall be. But we are ready for what must be. So we are rightly prepared but not truly tested.”

           “As it should be, Irinae. We discover together, but not alone. It is better to be responsive than predictive. The enemy is neither fair nor predictable. But he is outnumbered.”

           Traden looked deeply into his sister’s eyes. “I believe in you.”

           “And I believe in you, Traden.” She sighed. “We are so young.”

           A breeze blew through the tent. The candle was extinguished.

3.

Irinae screamed. Her voice pierced the night. It didn’t seem to end, its sound turning to ribbons of black smoke rising to the moon, wrapping around its light. Traden ran from the watch post, faster than he had ever raced, yet the seconds seemed like minutes. He tore into the tent, sword at the ready, and seeing no one else, threw himself upon his sister, taking her into his arms.

           Irinae clutched to him, trembling. Tears streaked her face. Her voice faltered. She was afraid to speak, afraid her voice was forever paralyzed.

           “Irinae. I am here. You are okay. We are alright.”

           She dared a whisper. “I can’t do this Traden. He was here. I can’t explain it.”

Sobs racked her body. She felt exhausted, but afraid to sleep. She held to her brother, her eyes constantly open, her fingers kneading at his cloak. They remained that way until the sun began to climb.

4.

“You fools!” The ground shook as the Dragon reared back. The forest around them quieted, braced for a wrath they knew too well.

Traden and Irinae lifted their shields. But rather than spew his flames, the Dragon thrust himself to the ground, circling the pair, tormenting them with threat.

Traden made a slight move to strike, but Irinae quickly put her hand out and grabbed him. “Hold,” she said.

“Interesting,” said the Dragon. “You would have him do nothing. Yet, at any moment I could strike. I could paralyze you, and slowly tear you apart. Or burn you to the edge of death, and let you suffer to your horrible end. Perhaps you would have me just snatch your brother and break him in half. What are you waiting for? Your only hope is a quick strike. The longer you wait, the worst the pain I will inflict. There is honor in dying young.”

“There is greater honor in winning young,” spoke an unfamiliar voice. Traden and Irinae turned, and as they did, other pairs emerged from the forest. They bore the emblems of their respective tribes, carrying the distinctive weaponry of Traden and Irinae’s master.

“What is this!” roared the Dragon. “You know the rules.”

“Who said you set the rules?” said Traden and Irina as they stepped toward the Dragon.

“This is my land. Consider your villages dead. I will show no mercy. The tale of this day will be told for centuries, the day you defied me.” The Dragon turned to leave.

“Stop.” Irinae stepped forward. “You haunted me. You violated my soul. No more. This is not your land. Not now. You called for a fight. So fight!”

The Dragon’s eyes burned deep red and then settled into cold black. Thunder emanated from within him. Lightning crackled around him. The pairs moved in, tightening their circle. They lifted their shields, luminescent, glowing. Each sword was raised to the air. These were not swords forged by the blacksmith, heavy, as if weighted with the tasks before it. These swords were designed by the master, unique to each user, first imagined within the mind of the warrior, and then manifest to the task for which it is called.

The Dragon studied each young person. Through eyes slit, he noted their positions as he searched for their weakness.

“Your master does not come to fight,” said the Dragon. He hissed, and smoke lifted from his nostrils. “He sends others in his place.”

Irinae readied her sword, and stared into the Dragon’s cold eyes. “He is here.”

The Dragon screamed.

5.

The Dragon lay defeated. Smoke rose from his body, gashes, many and deep, evident. The pairs watched as his body disintegrated to ash, the Dragon exposed for the lie he is. Wind blew in, lifting the ashes, carrying them to distant corners, high and then gone. The ground, once again, clean.

           The pairs built a campfire. As they rested, Traden spoke. “We couldn’t have done this without you.”

           “Always prepared. Never alone,” quoted Irianae. “It’s easy to forget.”

           “Because it’s hard to live,” said another. “Isolation requires little. Its only companion is resignation.”

           They sat in silence for a bit, reflective.

           “Will another one come?”

           “Of course. But we have learned now to head them off. Dragons can only threaten our family if battle is delayed. We will go after them as our master directs.”

           “We need to tell others how we did this.”

           “Sure. Just know, some will listen. Perhaps more will not. Old ways are less of a threat.”

           “Any way but the master’s is less of a threat. This, this demanded everything of me.”

           “Wouldn’t want it any other way. Beats defeat.”

           Darkness began to take hold of the camp. From the fire, the voice spoke. “Well done, my children. Your story will indeed be told. It will not be a tale of the weapons you used, great as they may be, nor a tale of the courage required of you, essential as it was. Trust together, that is your tale.

           Irinae spoke. “Master, why us?”

           “You know why.”  

Hidden Gems

1.    No matter the threat, we will not bow to it or sacrifice another in our place.

2.    Our identity is not in what we have or what we do or what others might think of us. Therein lies misdirection. Why you do what you do must drive you.

3.    You lose the moment you make a challenge about yourself.

4.    Always, somewhere, we are rightly prepared but not fully tested. Bring on the test.

5.    Someone on the team is dealing with fear, whether its source is at work or beyond work. Together prevails.

6.    Strength unique to you is always better than another’s armor forced on you.

What is your takeaway? Please comment below.