JOURNEY TO THE MIDNIGHT SUN
Book II of III
Anders, at thirty-two, and Julien, at seventeen, were determined to be the first through the gauntlet to Roderick’s Grounds that season. Presently at the Lake of the Swans, an inexperienced observer might never guess the perilous and often grueling slog they had undertaken simply to reach their jumping-off point. To start, they had set out paddling in narrow channels surrounded by ice, often making use of a wedge fixed to the bow of their modified canoe. When necessary, they had ‘lined’ their craft as a sled on runners, towing it along the frozen edges of nameless rivers while deadly meltwater roiled just yards away. Close calls and dark days they had known, but winter could not keep its icy grip. It slipped away, leaving them free to paddle and portage through lakes, rivers, and bogs.
From his seat in the bow, Julien stepped from birch-bark canoe to pebbly beach. Anders followed suit a few steps behind, and the two men brought their craft halfway upon the shore. Then, as if hearing the “come hither” of an unknowable voice that had been calling to them all along, they turned to gaze upon the wilderness before them.
“This, my young friend, is what it’s all about!”
The Lake of the Swans stretched out before them like an inland sea—its water of a blue so deep, as to penetrate one’s memory for life. Along its shores, between bright pebbly beaches and dark evergreen forests, butterflies drank nectar from wildflowers in carpets of new spring grass. The music of songbirds filled the air, and the air filled the chest with purity and bliss. The sun shone like a long-lost friend returned to warm one’s world after a long hard winter. And being early in the season, not a single mosquito was to be found. And looking all the way across the rolling lawns to the far end of the campgrounds, a limestone outcrop rose to a height of fifty feet above deep blue water. Standing in solitude, the monolith would soon come to life with boys and girls climbing on it like a troop of monkeys, jumping off its many perches until their parents called them home at dusk.
Impossible as it seemed, the smell of camp food came drifting on the breeze. It came, then it was gone, and then it came again.
Digging in his rucksack, Anders suddenly stood erect, “There it is again,” he exclaimed, looking at Julien, “Do you smell that?”
Julien nodded, a look of wonder on his young face.
“Surely we’re the only ones here,” taking several steps, and then, as if tugged on by the aroma, taking several steps more.
Julien caught up with Anders and, as if under a spell, both men walked in bewilderment, following the succulent scent of roast duck, glazed in honey, slow-roasted in the sweet-smelling smoke of speckled alder.
Looking here and there across grassy campgrounds, stands of trees stood like small islands. And rounding the corner of just such an island, the warriors beheld a lakeside dwelling, its centerpiece a handsome hut built in the style of a longhouse. Framed in pine poles and roofed with birch bark, neat and clean against the massive backdrop of the lake, it appeared the hideaway of hard working dwarves in one of those fairytale postcards that we all know of. Its front porch looked out over blue water. Its backyard was a meadow dotted with wild-flowers. A sturdy wickiup also stood in the back, along with a utility fire pit, a stack of firewood, a bone pile, and a rack for stretching hides, which currently boasted the pelt of a large male grizzly. The big bear, fresh from hibernation and ravenously hungry, had followed its nose to camp where it made the fatal mistake of testing the family’s resolve.
Returning one’s eyes to the front yard, a pair of large dogs kept watch like medieval griffins on either side of the stoop. A bit further out, halfway between house and lake, a ring of volcanic rocks, their angular edges smoothed by eons of time, formed a substantial fire pit with a trail of smoke disseminating in the breeze. The mystery of the aroma, a row of green-winged teal on a spit.
Cody had brought news of the warrior’s approach, giving the clanswomen time to prepare for their first arrivals. The boy had then concealed himself as an insurance policy in the trees where he could keep the newcomers in the sights of John’s rifle.
Mia was the first to reveal herself. Stepping from the front door with a dog on either side, whining and wagging its tail, she silenced them both before turning to the men, “Good afternoon, sirs.”
“Good afternoon,” simultaneously. And removing their caps, their expressions spoke to their disbelief.
Walking out on the lawn, Mia closed the distance to half, “If I may ask, are you on your way to Roderick’s Grounds?”
“We are,” answered Anders, looking from Mia to Julien and back again, “I beg you forgive our confusion, Miss, but we are at a loss for how anyone could be here, especially with a camp like this…at this time of year.”
“No need to apologize, sir. I came here with my family, by way of an overland route, from the southwest.”
“We did not know that people lived here year-round.”
“We do not live here. We arrived here seven weeks ago.”
Confused, curious, and even suspicious, the two warriors stood wordless. Anders, at last, broke the silence, “Whatever possessed you to do such a thing?”
Mia answered with neither truth nor lie: “Our warriors fell in battle against an elite warrior mounted on a giant with a magic weapon. One of our women then slew the warrior after the battle, for he had suffered a crippling wound to his heart. His magic weapon and giant then fell into our hands. Thus enabled, we decided that the best way to honor our fallen heroes and what they gave their lives for was to rebuild our family. That is why we’ve come here. We are looking for warriors worthy of becoming Champions of the House of Emerson.”
It was all but impossible for Anders and Julien to have grown up without hearing tales of the most illustrious clan in all the frontier. The House of Emerson, with its storied history of remarkable warriors, had been swept away in a torrent, carried off into the mists of legend, far away and yet ever-present in the Kasskatchen psyche.
Putting two and two together, Julien asked, “Have you any warriors left?”
“We have acquired only one so far,” Laureal replied, emerging from the doorway, “but he is worth ten.”
Jessie came out next and, sizing the men up from the porch, took a friendly tone even as she delivered a veiled warning, “We have another that will be of age soon. And I can assure you that, although not yet a man, he has mastered the magic weapon with which our men were slain, and is therefore worth two or three warriors at least.”
Emma came out between her daughter and granddaughter, “To answer your question, sir, as to why we are here: We have one another, and we have our land, our way of life, and our freedom. And as these things hang in the balance, we have come here to find men of faith who, like ourselves, believe such things are worth keeping.”
“We also have two children,” Mia concluded, “two dogs, a horse giant, and…a wolf.”
His cap still in hand, Anders scratched his head.
Both men were itching, and knowing that no warrior could defeat a certain tiny vermin but could only do their best to live with them, Mia asked, “Are you lousy?”
“Yes, Miss. I fear they have gotten the better of us.”
“Would you like us to de-louse you?”
“Oh, Miss,” Anders began, forgetting all else, “If you could…I could not; I mean, my companion and I, we could not thank you enough.”
“No need to thank me.” And smiling coyly, “I don’t want them any more than you do.”
Following Emma’s instructions, Anders and Julien retrieved their bedding and met the women out back where the men drew straws to choose who would be first into the tub. The large rectangular tub, hurriedly made from easy-to-work pine, had been a priority project after the family established their rudimentary camp. And they had lye soap, of course, that age-old standard. If needed, they could make more from lard and ash, although doing so required a time-consuming process that tied up their cast iron pot. Nevertheless, they had fared better than most against critters that, having lost most of their territory during the Age of Science, had since reclaimed nearly every inch of their former domain.
Having won the lottery, so to speak, Julien placed his bedding in the tub before climbing in, clothes and all.
Anders, meanwhile, turned to the women, “Ladies, if I may introduce my friend and myself. This is Julien De Champs of the House De Champs. And I am, Anders Kristiansen, of the House of Kristiansen.”
“Pleased to meet you, Anders of the House of Kristiansen, and Julien of the House De Champs,” And with an abbreviated curtsy, “I am Mia Molay of the House of Emerson. And this is my Matriarch, Emma Emerson, of the House of Emerson. And my cousins, Jessie Westergaard and Laureal Summerfield, both of the House of Emerson.”
“Very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Yes,” Julien seconded, busily soaping up, “very pleased indeed!”
Spotting Noah and Sophie, Anders broke into a smile.
Following his eyes, Mia saw her children peering out the back door of the hut. “Those are mine,” she said, turning her eyes back to Anders.
“A sturdy-looking pair. Twins, I take it?”
“Yes,” proudly, gleaning a genuineness in his handsome smile.
“What are their names, if I may ask?”
“Noah and Sophie,” and turning, she called to them, “Noah, Sophie…come and meet our guests.”
Of course, the women kept a reasonable distance from the infected men. Courtesy and humor helped to close the gap, not by inches and feet, but by sentiment. And while none boasted about being the first to make the lake, in fact, they were all just that. The qualities that had brought them there fostered an unspoken kinship, fledgling though it be. And when the de-lousing was done, the men were sent on their way to rinse in the lake and dry out over their own campfire, with an invitation to return to the Emerson camp that evening for supper around the fire pit.
His eyes fixed on the heavens, John Summerfield watched a flock of pelicans circling up and up as though on a spiral staircase to the sky. Once upon a time in a lost age, men had discovered that staircase and climbed it. John felt certain of it. Meanwhile, as the sun’s fiery reflection danced on the lake, Ellie carried her rider on a well-worn path that followed the shoreline. In and out they wove from dark wood to bright lakeside until, at last, bringing Ellie to a halt, John once again turned his gaze skyward. The king-sized birds had become tiny dots against the blue. John watched as, one by one, they vanished into the great unknown.
Rising from his work, Anders tossed a pebble against Julien’s side, whereby gaining his partner’s attention, he nodded down the shoreline where, still at some distance, a rider had appeared. Thanks to the women, both men knew it must be John and therefore were not alarmed. Even so, Ellie appeared a sight to behold—three times larger than the average grizzly bear, she came straight on at a slow but purposeful walk. Riding atop her, the huntsman wore a vest of wolf skin. A deer, apparently draped over his lap, in actuality hung over Ellie’s withers, its hooves dangling down either side.
Coming on, John saw no signs of aggression or suspicious behavior, and still, he understood as well as any warrior: his life could be decided in a split-second depending on who could react with the greatest speed, accuracy, and power. And so it was, the Seeker came on slowly, cautiously, his dark eyes calm and yet, sharply focused.
Being the older of the newcomers, Anders spoke first, “Good afternoon, sir.”
John brought Ellie to a halt. “Good afternoon.”
“I have not seen this breed of horse giant before,” Anders continued, admiring the Clydesdale even as he kept his distance.
“Then you are not unfamiliar with the giants?”
“I have seen a few…in the war beyond the Five Seas (the Great Lakes). They were used as standard bearers. Really quite impressive the way they stood out among the other horses. Although I must admit, I find it hard to believe there could be any more impressive than this one.”
Having read something in Anders that spoke to an experienced soldier, John looked on with a hint of respect. And seeing as much, Anders took a step forward—
“If I may introduce myself, I am Anders Kristiansen of the House of Kristiansen. And this young man, who is entrusted to my care through the long friendship of our two families, is my protégé, Julien De Champs of the House De Champs. And I have it on good word, sir, that you are John Summerfield, a Champion of the House of Emerson.”
Leaning forward, John flashed a suspicious smile, “It would appear you have spoken with the ladies.”
“An admirable group for sure,” Julien replied, chivalrously stepping forward as if to stand in the women’s defense.
“We will have no argument there,” gently applying pressure to Ellie’s flanks so that she might intimidate the young man with a step in his direction.
Stepping back, Julien glanced at Anders before turning to scoff at the Seeker, “That’s a mighty small whitetail you’ve taken, sir. What is it, not even half of a yearling?”
John focused on Julian even as he watched Anders from the corner of his eye, “Had the women not requested a baby for their finer leatherwork, I could have taken a stag and three does in the time it took to find this little fellow.”
“And that is all good and well!” Anders stated loudly, a tree trunk of a man with a sensible tone, attributes that brought respect from both John and Julian.
“Not only will it make very fine leather,” Anders continued, “but as young as it is, I am certain it will make fine eating.”
“It is guaranteed.”
“Of that, I have no doubt. Nor can I doubt that you, sir, are a fortunate man.” Then, casting his eyes about his camp, “Julien, my friend, if we are to finish setting up here, we had better make hay while the sun shines.” And turning back to the horseman, “If you would excuse us, sir, I am certain we will have the opportunity to speak later…if you wish.”
Summerfield leaned forward, his dark eyes fixed on Anders, “Sir, if I may keep you from your work a moment longer. Are you on your way to Roderick’s Grounds?”
“We most certainly are.”
“Then may I also ask, have you some knowledge of the territories to the north?”
“No direct knowledge, but we are happy with what we’ve been able to gather.”
“I would very much like to know what you’ve gathered. That is, if you do not mind sharing.”
“Are you also going to, Roderick?”
“No, I am looking for something in the realm beyond the forest.”
Confused only a little less than curious, the two men stood gazing at John. Meanwhile, as the afternoon breeze picked up, waves lapped the rocky shore like gently clapping hands, accompanied by a flock of warblers along the edge of the wood, singing the praises of spring’s rebirth.
“We know nothing of that realm,” Anders said at last.
“Nor do I,” said John, “but I assure you, sir, there is no ill intent to my inquiry.”
“Sir, having met your family, I would not suspect you of harboring any such thing.”
“Might I invite you gentlemen to supper then, this evening, where we can talk?”
Anders smiled, “The ladies of your house have already arranged it.”
“Well then,” also smiling, “they are a step ahead of me as usual.”
Laughingly, “Aren’t they always ahead of us in such matters?”
With an amicable nod, “Indeed, and since it is already arranged for this evening, I will look forward to speaking with you then.”
After much good food and conversation around the fire that evening, there came a lull, a moment that saw each soul looking inward.
“Darling,” Laureal asked, “what are you thinking?”
“Oh, nothing much,” his dark eyes, deep in thought, seemed fixed on something far away to the west. Then, turning to her, “The sun over the lake reminds me of home.”
The sun, seemingly just off the edge of the lawn, hovered over the sparkling water, a glowing orange orb under a handful of cloud puffs lined with silver, blue, and gold.
Meanwhile, a quarter-mile down the shoreline, a group of woodland caribou known as ‘the gray ghost of the forest’ had come out for a drink. A little closer at hand, a pair of swans nested on an island no larger than a picnic table. The female Pen sat atop their nest with her mate, the Cob, nearby in the water, slowly circling on guard duty.
“Are you missing your home, John?”
“No,” turning his eyes to Jessie, “well, yes…a little perhaps.” And looking around the fire, “I suppose we all do.”
Laureal tempered a smile, “Birds of a feather, flock together.”
Another lull followed, each in their own thoughts until at last, Mia looked to Anders, “Sir, if you might forgive my prying, do you miss your home?”
“Not at this particular time, Miss. But as I said earlier, I spent six years away. And especially in the latter half of that time, we often spoke of our homes, and quite fondly, I might add.”
Falling silent, Anders gazed into the fire, his expression telling of good and bad memories alike,” Funny,” he pondered aloud, “that as good as it was to be home, I would end up missing those I had been away with.”
“It is only to be expected that a man should miss his fellow soldiers,” said Emma. “Still, though, it must have been good to come home.”
“Oh yes, ma’am,” his blue eyes brightening. “It was a great day! Coming home to my mother and father, my brothers and sister, and old friends.”
As Anders continued, his bright expression slowly turned back to introspection, “It was great, but as time passed…well, I would not say that I grew restless, not exactly. I just felt like something was missing. So I began to cast about, wondering what I should do next, and…well, here I am.”
“A boy grows up and like the wind he goes,” the Matriarch quoted an ancient folksong.
“And who could blame him,” Anders replied, “when there’s a meal like this to be found.”
“Oh, Mr. Kristiansen!” Emma cried out as laughter went round the fire.
“Honest words,” Julien put in.
Emma turned to the teenager, “Do you miss your home, Julien?”
“Oh no, ma’am. I love my family, but I could not wait to get out and into a real adventure.” Looking around the fire, his young eyes spoke to his hunger for life, “I think I should be happy to go from one adventure to the next forever.”
“You may change your mind as the years go by,” Anders stipulated.
“If I may ask another question, sir. What made you decide on Roderick’s Grounds?”
Anders turned his eyes to Mia whom Emma just happened to have seated beside him, “Julien’s family approached me and asked that I accompany their son to Roderick,” and immediately gesturing to Julien, “My young friend could have got there on his own with any teammate, of that I am certain. In fact, I believe it likely that, by the grace of the One that made all of this, the proposal came along not because Julien needed help but because I did.”
“Oh, and how is that?” asked Mia.
“Well, as I was saying, I was casting about, but for what I knew not. After a few years, I can’t explain why, but perhaps as a last resort, I began every day with a prayer to put one foot before the other with faith in the One who made me. A short time later, this opportunity presented itself. A task requiring a journey of some distance, to which I am reasonably predisposed. And, it just felt right.”
Jessie looked on with discernment, “So, Mr. Kristiansen, you were asked to mentor this young man?” nodding to Julian.
“Well, yes, I was, although I often wonder how good or bad of an example I’m setting.”
“I have to believe Julien’s family saw something in you,” Jessie continued, “something they wanted for their son.”
While Anders struggled for words, Julien jumped in, “Anders is one of the famous ‘Fifty-Five!’” referring to a famous contingent of Kasskatchen mercenaries that had gone to fight in the wars beyond the Five Seas. “He returned loaded with booty. And now, he can do as he pleases.”
His eyes turned down to the fire, Anders wished to forget the exploits of his questionable past, “I happened to find myself at the right place at the right time…that is all.”
Hinting at a smile, Emma leaned in, “Sir, you put yourself at the right place at the right time.”
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