The Child sat in the courtyard of the Castle, toy dinosaurs spread about him, sun kissing his neck. A persistent cool breeze carried the scent of lavender and hyacinth, mingling with towering eucalyptus trees standing guard around him. The aroma set his mind at ease, a hug from someone long forgotten. Humming a breakfast cereal jingle, he lined up plant eating dinosaurs opposite meat eating dinosaurs. Then, the giant lizards clashed. Some lived, some died. Heroic sacrifices were made in the name of epic victories. After the battle, the Child adjusted his legs. Dark brown corduroy pant legs buzzed past one another. He tugged on a stretched t-shirt emblazoned with a jet plane. The Child returned the dinosaurs to their respective corners, brought back to life, injuries healed, ready to fight again. Though only six years of age, it was a game played thousands of times.
The Castle sat upon a high plain in a barren landscape that blurred into a far horizon on every degree of the compass. High upon walls and ramparts, the Castle was defended by machines of war. Trebuchets stood at the ready, massive cauldrons waited for boiling oil. The Child looked up at the wall, squinting in the sun, and saw the commanding figure of the Protector watching from above, eyes fierce with determination. She stood tall and confident. Gold plated armor covered her chest, torso, arms, and legs, worn over a sturdy white tunic and heavy leather leggings and boots. A large broadsword strapped to her back, she held a helmet at her side, golden wings spreading from its temples. Crimson red hair danced in an invisible wind. The Child smiled and waved, her nod in return almost imperceptible.
He felt safe with the Protector. When feeling scared, alone, or ashamed, she made those feelings go away. The Protector commanded an army of shadow warriors, men and women of various heights and physiques, their faces obscured in haze. This army built the walls and towers and defenses. They stood watch as the Child played. They would not play with him, but it was fine. He had the Protector, and his dinosaurs, of which he never tired.
Sometimes, the comforting wind would carry whispers as he played in the courtyard.
Why are you hiding? Please come out.
When this happened, the Child would feel a familiar pang, a pressing in of his stomach. It did not hurt, but he did not like it.
At these times, the Child asked, “What is outside of the Castle?”
“The things that hurt you,” the Protector would remind him. “Do you remember when I came to you? To help you? Those bad things are still out there. That is why I built the Castle, to keep you safe.”
“But what about when my tummy feels funny, or when I hear things? Are fairies trying to talk to me?”
“No, my sweet Child,” she would reply. “It is just those things outside trying to trick you. Do not worry, you are safe here.”
Each time, the Child accepted these explanations, the world outside remaining mysterious and unimportant. He was thinking of these questions while playing in the courtyard, one sunny afternoon, when someone different appeared.
“Hello there.”
The Child looked up, startled. An old man stood in front of him. He wore heavy brown robes that covered clasped hands in front of him. A friendly smile hid behind a short white beard, extending to cover his head like dandelion fuzz. His eyes twinkled.
“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” said the Child, standing up.
“Oh, I’m not a stranger. We just haven’t properly met.”
The Child glanced around for the Protector and spied her looking down on the situation high atop the Castle wall. She leapt from her perch, falling through the air, landing with the ease of a falcon. She strode over to the two with purpose, eyes dark.
“Who are you? How did you gain entry? He is not to speak with outsiders.” She reached out and pulled the Child close.
The old man was unimpressed. “I am no outsider. I am of this place. With purpose. Therefore, here I am,” he replied. “I am the Witness. I see what lies beyond the horizons. My duty is to observe and interpret. Something is coming.”
She smiled with mild derision. “I am the Protector. I keep watch and defend these walls. I sense no changes. You are not needed.”
The Witness smiled in return. “You see what you can, and what you want to. I see beyond. However, I do have another task at hand.” He offered a wink towards the Child before continuing. “I speak to what lies beyond the walls, what will come from over the horizon. The Child will soon have choices to make. Together, you and I will need to assist him.”
“You mean like deciding things?” asked the Child, looking between the two.
The Protector looked down at him. “Do not worry yourself, young one. Nothing will change. You will be safe.” She looked at the Witness. “Nothing will change.”
The Witness’ smile faded, but he retained his kind demeanor. “I know you believe that to be true, Protector. What comes remains to be seen. Now, if you will excuse me.” He bowed slightly then shuffled off into the tall trees of the courtyard.
“Protector? Is someone coming?” asked the Child, eyes alight.
She smiled down at him. “Would you like to play dinosaurs?”
“Yeah, that would be really cool!” He sat down and began to arrange his toys in line. Meat eaters on one side, plant eaters on the other. The Protector knelt beside him, still smiling, but thoughts cloudy with unease.
The next day, the Child was playing dinosaurs when he felt the feelings in his stomach, the push and the pull. He was rubbing his belly when the Witness appeared beside him.
He asked, “Are you okay, young one?”
“I think so. Sometimes I get these funny feelings. The Protector says that they are from the bad things outside of the Castle. Do you know what they are?”
The old man smiled and settled down cross legged on the ground. “I do. They are indeed from outside the Castle. However, they are not all from bad things. Some things out there are nice. They want to help you.”
The Child looked unconvinced. “Help me, but why? The Protector says only bad things are outside of the Castle.”
The Witness stroked his beard. “That is what she knows. Her duty is to keep you safe, and she does it well.”
“Yeah, she’s really nice,” said the Child, nodding in agreement. “She sometimes even plays dinosaurs with me. Hey, do you want to play dinosaurs? It’s really fun!”
“I would be delighted to,” said the Witness, leaning forward.
“Great! So, you have the meat eaters and the plant eaters. They really don’t like each other and are always fighting. So what you do is—”
As the Child explained how to play dinosaurs, the Witness listened to every word. However, the same feelings tugging on the Child echoed through his body unfiltered. The hurt, fear, and loneliness, accompanied by anxiety and anger. It buffeted the old man, his breath stolen by an unknown force. The Child was protected by the Castle, but the Witness was naked to everything beyond. He knew the source. It would be hard to get the Child and the Protector to understand. However, it was his duty to bridge the gap.
Then began the siege.
A thunderous clash at the Castle gate shook the ground. The Child ran from the courtyard and joined the Protector on high upon wall. Looking down, they saw a battering ram, pushed by misshapen beings, writhing in contempt at the obstruction in front of them. The Protector yelled for the shadow warriors. They appeared at their stations, pouring hot oil into the cauldrons, and loading the trebuchet with flaming ball of explosives. Higher on the ramparts, shadow warrior archers stood at the ready. Behind the misshapen beings pushing the battering ram appeared thousands more of their brethren. They wore disorganized armor that covered disfigured forms and wielded unshapely blades dark as night. The beings on the battering ram chanted, ramming it against the Castle in rhythm. Their brethren echoed the chant, waiting for a breach in the defenses.
The Protector yelled commands and the shadow warriors complied. They poured the boiling oil onto the invaders. The archers rained down flaming arrows, igniting the oil and setting the misshapen beings ablaze. They howled in pain but kept up their rhythmic assault. The trebuchets fired into the masses further afield. The balls of fire exploded on impact, sending bodies flying about like bubbles in the wind, but the formations held. The Child was frightened watching all of this. He felt a raw thrum that sharpened, the edge of pain growing. A lump in his throat grew to a bursting point.
Why are you hiding? There is nothing to fear.
Tears brimmed in his eyes. He stood close to the Protector, holding a piece of her sturdy white tunic close to his face. She stood tall, helmet situated upon her head, red hair escaping from underneath. Her eyes burned bright and appeared as embers deep within the helmet. Sensing the Child’s pain, she held him close to her side with one arm.
The onslaught continued until the Protector and the shadow warriors broke the will of the invaders. The battering ram smoldered, sending whisps of paltry smoke with a hint of putrid sweetness. The army retreated beyond the horizon. The Child returned to the courtyard and started organizing the dinosaurs, but he did not feel like playing. His hands shook and the lump in his throat lingered. Questions brushed his thoughts. The attackers brought those feelings. They resounded within the Child. He sniffled and wiped his hand across his face, clearing the snot and tears.
The Witness appeared next to him, concern written on his face. “How are you feeling?”
“Not good, those things made me feel bad. It was like when the Protector first found me. She’s right, only the bad things are out there.” He spoke in short, staccato words, slamming the dinosaurs down as punctuation.
The Witness took a seat next to the Child and helped him line up the toys. “What do you remember before the Protector found you? Did you have a mother or father?”
The Child’s brow furrowed, still fixated on the dinosaurs. “I think so. Maybe.”
“Do you remember why she came?”
The Child stopped and looked at the Witness. “Someone did a bad thing. I was scared I was going to get into trouble, but I don’t remember why. Nobody would help me.”
The Witness smiled. “It’s good that she came then. To keep you safe.”
“Yeah,” he replied, though without energy. The Child stared into the distance. “All those things went away when she came. Sometimes I wonder though. I think I miss stuff, and people.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. But when I hear the whispers, they ask me funny questions that I don’t know the answers to.”
He asked, “Have you ever tried to answer?”
“No, not really. The Protector said I should just ignore them.” The Child resumed playing with his toys with little enthusiasm.
“Maybe I could help you with the whispers?”
The Child looked up at him. “Do you hear them?”
The old man nodded.
“Do you know who makes them? The Protector says it’s the bad things from outside, but I think they’re fairies!” said the Child.
“I do know who speaks,” replied the Witness. “Not fairies, I’m afraid.” The Child frowned his disappointment as the Witness continued. “It is from someone outside. They are looking for you. Unfortunately, this person does not know the right question to ask.”
“Why are they looking for me?” asked the Child.
“Well,” said the Witness, “they are from before the Castle. They want to talk to you.”
The Child shrugged and turned his attention back to the dinosaurs. “I don’t think the Protector will let anyone talk to me. I’m not sure I want to talk to anyone anyways.”
The Witness stood. “We shall see, young one.”
The Child’s attention returned to the never ending conflict between dinosaur tribes. The Witness watched the boy play for a spell, then disappeared into the trees.
The next day began as any other. The Witness appeared at the tallest watchtower to observe the horizon. The Protector was waiting for him.
“I do not appreciate these things that you say to the Child. They interfere with my tasks.”
The Witness smiled. “How do you know when your tasks are complete?”
The Protector blinked, the question caught her off guard. “My tasks? When the danger is past, of course. When the Child is safe.”
“But how will you know when the Child is finally safe?” he pressed.
“The whispers have been growing more persistent. We were attacked. I am needed now more than ever.” The Protectors eyes narrowed. “I do not believe your arrival and the attack is a coincidence. You said that you were of the Castle, and that you had a purpose. I built this Castle. I did not conjure you.”
“Yet, here I am. An outsider is coming, and soon the Child will have to make a choice.” His eyes gleamed. “Are you sure it was you who built this Castle?”
She ignored the question. “If an outsider comes, I will vanquish him. Is this outsider responsible for the attack?”
The Witness nodded. “Yes, but not intentionally. He does not know how to ask the needed questions.”
The Protector snorted and placed her helmet upon her head. “You speak in riddles, old man. Do not interfere with my duties.”
“I believe your duties call you now, Protector.” He pointed a finger past her. She turned to look. Filling the landscape in front of the Castle was a massive army, much larger than the previous. The same misshapen beings, with their disorganized armor and unshapely blades, lined up in orderly formations, waiting for the command to attack. This time, many were mounted on four legged serpentine beasts. They brought with them siege weapons. Massive catapults lined up and prepared to launch huge boulders against the Castle walls.
The Protector cursed and turned to the Witness. “Go to the courtyard and protect the Child,” she yelled. Then she turned and cupped her hands to her mouth. “To arms! Prepare for battle!” She leapt from the watchtower, executed a slow flip, and landed on the Castle wall. The shadow warriors appeared and prepared for combat.
The Witness appeared in the courtyard and found the Child curled up against a tree, corduroyed knees pressed under his chin, eyes wide. The old man sat next to him and gathered him up.
“I can feel it, Witness!” he said in a shaky voice. “My tummy hurts so bad.”
Please come out. There is nothing to be afraid of.
The Witness pulled the Child close, wrapping his robes around him. “Take some deep breaths. The Protector and I will keep you safe.”
The Child buried his face in the heavy robes. An acidic burn rose from his throat causing him to cough hard. The Witness patted his back.
Outside the Castle walls, the enemy catapults began their volleys. Gigantic boulders crashed against the walls and ramparts. Shadow warriors were scattered but others moved to take their places. The Castle’s trebuchets and archers returned fire, raining death upon the invaders, but their numbers held. Then, a low horn sounded, the invaders rushed the Castle. Serpentine mounted misshapen beings led the charge, their steeds hissing and drooling out of fang lined jaws. The giant lizards leapt up the walls and clambered to the top.
“Swordsmen,” screamed the Protector. She drew her broadsword and prepared to meet the attackers. Around her appeared shadow warriors with swords and axes. They lined the walls and met the enemy head on. The Protector swung her massive sword about, cutting down the attackers. Her shadow warriors did the same, defending the wall to the death. Still, the misshapen beings came. Still, the rhythmic pounding of the enemy catapults shook and weakened the very foundation of the Castle.
“Hold the wall,” cried the Protector. Her shadow warriors fought valiantly, but they were being overwhelmed. For the first time in her existence, the Protector felt fear. Not of dying, but of failure. She heard a loud crash. Looking down, the Protector saw that the Castle gate was breached. The misshapen beings flooded the courtyard.
“Phalanx, to the Child!” she commanded. Materializing out of the guardian trees came a hundred shadow warriors armed with large shields and long spears. They formed a line four deep between the Child, the Witness, and the invaders. They crouched behind their shields and lowered their spears, bracing them in the earth. The tips sparkled in the sunlight. The first wave hit them with a sickening crunch.
“I hear him,” cried the Child. “The outsider, he’s here. I’m scared!” He put his hands on his ears, trying to keep the questions from crawling into his mind.
The Witness rocked him back and forth amid the chaos surrounding them. “I know, young one. He cannot see the path in front of him.” He watched the phalanx withstand another assault. The front line withered, others stepped forward to take their places.
“My tummy hurts,” cried the Child, sobbing. “Make it stop!”
The Protector looked down at the fight within the courtyard. The phalanx was buckling, they would not last much longer. There were no more reinforcements to call. The Castle was spent. She felt the serpentine beasts and misshapen beings closing on her. “I have failed you, Child. My only duty.”
“Make it stop!” yelled the Child.
The last of the phalanx warriors collapsed their ranks in front of the Child, trying desperately to hold back the misshapen beings. The Protector jumped to her feet in a final fit of rage. However, she was being smothered and could not make the jump to the courtyard.
“Protector, help me,” pleaded the Child.
Stop hiding!
“You are asking the wrong question,” yelled the Witness into the air, growing desperate. The last phalanx warrior fell. A serpentine beast uttered a guttural moan and stalked towards the old man and the Child curled against the guardian eucalyptus tree, bile and drool flecked from its maw.
And then, the Child went still. The Witness looked down and saw the young boy’s eyes wide, focused on nothing. Time slowed down. Memories and visions long locked away within the depths of the Castle surged into the Child’s mind. He remembered. That voice…
Don’t say anything or we will both get into trouble.
It was then the Protector appeared. Sturdy white tunic with deep, red hair. She gathered him up, the hurtful feelings subsided. “I will keep you safe.”
Time returned to normal, the serpentine beast almost upon them.
“Make it stop!” screamed the Child. Feelings long smothered raged forth.
His voice resonated like a sonic boom. A blast tore through the combatants. The misshapen beings and their four legged serpentine beasts lifted into the air, howling and kicking in rage. They were thrown violently about and burst into ash as they collided with one another, the ground, and the remnants of the Castle. A cold, bitter wind swept along the ravaged wall and the courtyard, whipping the remnants of the invaders up and about into small, aerial eddies. The Child shivered. Whimpering, he pulled himself deeper into the robes of the Witness. The old man spoke to him in hushed tones.
The Protector tried to stand but found it difficult. There was a large gash on her thigh in the shape of a serpentine beast’s mouth. She dropped her sword, unbuckled her plate armor, and removed her helmet, letting all fall beside her. The Protector limped down the stairs into the courtyard, hurrying to where the old man and the Child huddled together.
“Child,” she said as she approached. He raised his head upon hearing her voice. Tears stained his cheek.
“Am I in trouble?” he asked.
“My dear Child. Of course not,” she replied. “You are not in trouble. You never were.” Kneeling next to the two, she collected him to her, holding him close to her chest. The sturdy white tunic was dirty and wet with sweat, but the Child did not care. He buried his face against her. “It is I that would be in trouble,” she said in a hushed voice. “I failed you. I could not hold the wall. I am so sorry.”
He did not look up, and was having trouble controlling his breath. Small, erratic sobs shook his body. “I know you did your best. Are they gone?”
She looked at the Witness. He nodded.
“Yes, Child. They are gone.”
The Protector held him for a long while. Eventually, he lifted his head and rested it on her shoulder, face towards the smashed gate. After a short moment, he asked, “Is that him?”
The Protector and Witness looked. Not far outside of the splintered gates of the Castle stood a man. He was of average height, average build, and average attire. His hands were shoved into blue trousers and looked at the three with apprehension.
“Is it?” asked the Protector of the Witness, voice turned stern and not taking her eyes off the man.
“It is. He is not here to cause harm.”
Her head spun to glare at him. “He has already caused harm,” she hissed.
“Make him go away,” said the Child.
The Witness placed a hand on the Child’s shoulder. “We will talk with him. Would you like to come with us? You don’t have to say anything.”
The Child shook his head. “No.”
The Protector gently detached the Child from her embrace. “The Witness and I will speak with him. Stay here.” She wiped the tears from his eyes and cheek.
They stood and walked towards the outsider. The Protector limped but maintained a confident pace. The man offered a smile as the two approached.
“It is good to see you again,” he said to the Protector.
Her brow furrowed and she crossed her arms. “We do not know each other.”
“You don’t remember me?” he replied. “All those years ago?”
She looked confused. “I came to a Child that was in pain. I protect him.”
“You have,” the outsider said, “from the memories and the feelings he could not deal with. He stayed here, within this fortress. I grew up.”
“You sent those beasts to destroy us. Why?” asked the Protector, voice cold.
The Witness turned to the Protector. “He did not mean it. This man simply does not know how to ask the correct question.” Speaking to the outsider, he said, “What is your name?”
“Patrick.” He shuffled his feet.
“Why have you come here, Patrick?” pressed the Witness.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore, there hasn’t been for some time,” he replied. “What hurt the boy cannot hurt him again. But, I’m stuck.” He looked down, a pained look upon his face. He took a shaky breath. “The boy holds the key. I can’t move on without him. He needs to understand there’s nothing to be afraid of, not anymore.”
Patrick coughed to clear a tightening catch in his throat. He turned towards the Protector, pleading. “You’ve sheltered me for so long. But you don’t have to anymore. I’m grateful, you saved me, but it’s time to rest.”
She regarded him with suspicion. “You speak in riddles, outsider. This is a trick.”
“I am afraid it is not,” interjected the Witness. “It is time to ask the Child of his wishes.”
She glowered at him but nodded. They walked towards the Child, leaving Patrick behind. The Child was curled up against a eucalyptus tree, chin resting on dark brown corduroys pulled tightly to his chest, rocket shirt stretched over his knees.
“My young friend,” began the Witness, “that man would like to speak with you. He knew you from before.”
The Child looked up. “Did he do the bad things?”
“No,” he replied. “He endured the same pain that you did.”
“I am not convinced this man is trustworthy,” cut in the Protector.
The Child returned his chin to his knees. “I don’t know what to do.”
“What does your heart tell you?” asked the Witness?
“I want to play dinosaurs,” he said, voice barely registering.
“The Child has spoken, Witness,” said the Protector, seizing the opportunity. “Tell the outsider to go.” With that, the Protector limped towards the wall, calling for her shadow warriors. They began to appear and set to rebuilding the Castle defenses. The Protector directed her charges. Walls and ramparts rose and fell into place. Trebuchets and cauldrons of oil were recharged, prepared for the next attack.
The Child stood and went to his dinosaurs. The Witness sighed and returned to Patrick.
“It is not time, I’m afraid,” he said as he approached. “You need to figure out how to ask the right question. Until then, the Child, and all his secrets, will stay.”
Patrick looked despaired and confused. “The right question? That doesn’t make sense.”
“I am sorry,” replied the Witness. He offered a sympathetic smile, then turned and walked back towards the Castle gate.
Patrick watched the Witness return to the Castle as the brick and mortar swirled about and took shape to its former self. Through the Castle gate, Patrick could see the Child playing in the courtyard. The Child looked up, feeling the weight of Patrick’s gaze. Patrick smiled and waved. The Child hesitated, then raised his own hand in return. The Castle gate swung shut.
High on the wall stood the Protector. Her armor was donned and glinted in the sunlight, and she gazed down at the outsider in the field. She watched as Patrick returned his hands deep in his pockets, and turned to make his way towards the horizon.
Author: Kevin is a retired Marine and resides north of San Diego. Armed with a MFA in Creative Writing, he writes across multiple genres and dabbles in the second person. When not editing his forthcoming novel, he enjoys travel, local Cons, and hanging with his cat Winston the Entitled Security Panther.
Really gripping from start to finish, and so well told. A very enjoyable read!
The more I read the harder it became to continue. A story of being stuck, unable to more forward. If he could take that first step he would be freed from the ropes that bind him to the castle. I so wanted him to take Patrick's hand and leave but life isn't always like that. As Hemmie said, a thought-provoking story.