Murk

A gasp escaped me as my sword fell the thirty feet to the crevice’s bottom. This was not a good sign. The vile creature, my brother, lunged at me with his own cold blade of steel in a desperate attempt to steal that which I was born with. In a world where a soul was more important than gold, nature and natural selection played little in the lineage of kings, as those who sought power would rob you of your very soul in an instant just so that they would be one step closer to God. My brother, dear Dietrich, had been so overcome by the speculation of being God’s right hand that he had literally lost his mind sometime ago. In tongues, Dietrich spoke to me, yelling at me, screaming this and that, but all was ignored. I did not know of what he spoke, his insanity had advanced further than I had guessed and the look in his eyes revealing that there was no hope for him.

On the coldest day in winter, I would not have guessed that this would happen to my brother. Our father, who’s papal rights to the throne ensured that he was as close to God as one might get, feared for his life as my brother continued to follow the path to utter madness. Of course, it had started out so innocently, with but a casual conversation between two thinkers. I do not recall the exact details that led to our discovery that a soul taken as an addition to your collection, and those with the most would be higher up in the chain of command, but conclude we did. The long-standing beliefs on how God wanted his children to live in harmony were just that, long-standing beliefs. No one remembered why we believed this and no one had ever thought to question it. So when my brother and I had this great epiphany, we were dumbfounded. Nor surprisingly, our generation this far had uncovered many secrets held within our lands, unearthing ancient civilizations erased from times memory, and finding cures to the most horrible of diseases. This finding though, was far more significant than anyone might have imagined. This was the precise reason that we could not reveal it to another soul. The killing sprees that would ensue would be the destruction of the society we had worked so hard to progress.

From that day forward I had pushed the subject out of mind. To dwell on these thoughts would certainly have driven me past the point of no return to a place where I could no longer be considered that person of reason. I did not think to check my brother, to make sure he felt the same, and to ensure that he would not engage in any further philosophizing on the subject because to do so would be suicide. I did not know that he had not planned to forget our discovery any time soon, nor would he cease thinking and developing further hypothesis. His current attempt at murder was not his first. Earlier today, he had informed me, he had killed our Sister and Mother, although our Mother was not high in God’s lineage, she was still a queen and that must mean something, was his only reason. I had no time for mourning at this point. I would consider it if I got through this attack with all limbs and life intact, the irony of this being that my brother himself had but one hand, losing the other after falling off a horse. That lack of completeness must be what has driven his mind into a state of lunacy. Within the few seconds it took me to contemplate all of this, Dietrich was once again on top of me.

I was struggling for my life and knew that his size was bigger and speed was better than mine. Even if he did only have on hand to fight with, his right gripped the sword fiercely. With that thought I thrust my body to the right and fell the thirty feet to where my sword lay. I knew that it was a very risky move, but the bottom of the crevice was lined with silt dirt from ages of weathering and the impact would kill me, break me, or leave me untouched. I hoped for the latter. That does not mean to say that things worked out as I had hoped. The silt was still hard and my ribs smashed down, cracking, pain jolting up through my body into my brain. The side of my face hit second, and again, cracking, and all I could see was the red of blood rushing up under my broken bone and skin into my eye sockets. I struggled to get up but my efforts were ultimately futile.

The blood filling my sight slowly drained away, leaving me to see my surroundings and able to concentrate enough to hear my brother working his way down the path to the crevice we so often played in as children. I laboriously raised my body from the filth so that I would be able to defend myself against the monster that had replaced my kin. His screams of anger did not deter my determination to complete my last talk. To take the life of another would be something not easily done or forgotten, but the brute that faced me now left me little choice. I reached for my sword, my chest screaming at me in pain, and eventually found it with the tips of my bloodied and blistered fingers. Raising my sword, I could see a slight look of amazement in my brother’s eyes. He did not expect me to get up and defend myself once more. Little did he know? I dug the hilt of the sword into the earth, its point facing God as if it were a finger accusing him of some wrongdoing.

I released my body on top of my sword, letting the sharp blade point to my chest instead of God, hoping it would hit its mark with un-quivering accuracy. My kingdom would not want this lunatic as God’s right hand. The soul of the second son would not be his to take; he would not have such satisfaction. My soul belonged to God and God only, not on could say otherwise. My last thought was that my brother’s surreal scream sounded more demonic than human. The light parted and the gates opened. I had arrived.