"Unknown Realities" by R. L. Copple

R. L. Copple

Sweat stung my eyes as I wiped my brow. The wide, dusty forest road and the blazing sun didn't make for good traveling weather. My dry throat forced me to the shade by the side of the road. I sat on a rock and poured cool water down my throat.

Tall green trees bordered the well-used route. Birds sang in the background. It should have lightened my spirits, but it didn't.

I lifted the ring and examined the ancient language engraved upon it. Hebrew, the priest had said and translated it as, "It is more blessed to give than to receive." Through the ring God had called me onto the road, to unknown places and people, to fulfill the task bestowed upon me: to be my brother's keeper.

The ring and the calling had come at fourteen. Now nineteen years of age, I still didn't feel ready to venture alone on paths in the middle of a forest. It seemed a great folly to leave my family. What hope did I have to make a difference?

Then I realized the birds had stopped singing. Quietness pervaded the forest save the wind gusting, swirling dust down the road. Uneasiness settled into my heart.

What am I doing out here? I'm not ready for this; I'm going back home.

I arose, placed the water back into my pack, and proceeded home with quickened pace.

I had barely gone ten feet when five young men jumped onto the road, brandishing swords.

I froze. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, and my leg muscles tightened like a coiled viper ready to spring.

"Give me your valuables, boy." A chunky young man snarled at me. His muscles bulged under his plain, white shirt and leather vest. His wavy, blond hair contrasted with his steel gaze. I could tell his confidence masked a deep hurt. The need to control often hid out-of-control lives.

"My name's Sisko, and I don't have much of worth, Sir."

"I don't recall asking for your name." He swung the sword under my neck. "If you've nothing of worth, then you won't mind if we take an inventory." He motioned, and one of the thieves pulled off my pack. Another joined him in rummaging through it.

"Nothing in here worth anything, Dragon Breath."

Dragon Breath sheathed his sword and drew close. He grabbed the pack and slammed it onto my back.

I stumbled with the force but kept my feet under me. My back throbbed, but I picked up the pack and put it on.

His eyes grew big. He grabbed my hand and yanked it up. "This ring should fetch us a tidy sum." He attempted to pull it off, but it wouldn't move.

"It won't come off." Pain shot through my finger as he strained and yanked.

Dragon Breath whipped out a knife. A grin creased his face. "That's easily solved."

"Father, change..." I wanted to change the knife into a feather. But I could only use the power to help others, not myself, lest I be cursed instead of blessed.

What would help this thug?

Sweat dribbled down my face as Dragon Breath placed the knife under my finger.

"Father, take Dragon Breath home."

What else could be better? I wished I could be home, so surely this man needed to be home as well.

The colors of the forest spun until they blended. Because Dragon Breath held my hand, I traveled with him. As if someone had brought a spinning ride to a sudden halt, the colors formed themselves into an unknown place. I stood at the top of a mountain. A log cabin rested in a clearing among tall trees.

The world continued to move as if we had spun round and round. The knife thudded against a rock, fresh blood on the blade. We both collapsed onto the ground. My pack rattled as it rolled down a slight incline.

Once the ground stayed in one place, we both stood up. A teenage girl, about fifteen, rounded the corner. A breeze flowed through her blond hair. Her blue eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with her hands.

"Who is it?" a deep voice sounded from around the corner.

"No one, Father." The doubt in her voice betrayed her.

The father appeared from behind the cabin. Tall and brawny, he held an ax in his hand. His jaw set, and his eyes narrowed. "I thought I told you never to come back here again. I disowned you as my son."

"It wasn't my doing, Father."

"Father? What did I just say? It's sir to you." His father dropped the ax onto the porch and grabbed a sword leaning against the cabin. He held it ready to strike and stepped toward us.

Dragon Breath drew his sword and raced toward his father. Metal rang as the blades flashed in the sunlight.

Maybe sending him home wasn't such a good idea after all.

I examined the cut on my ring finger. The blood had almost crusted over. It would heal.

I felt like an uninvited guest as the family feud progressed. The two men parried, thrust, swung, and dodged. Sweat beaded on their necks and dripped from their noses. One would attack from one side, then another.

Then the father swung his weapon and followed with his fist, landing a blow to Dragon Breath's face. Dragon Breath grunted and staggered back.

The father swung down onto his sword arm. Dragon Breath's weapon fell to the ground, still held by his severed hand.

Dragon Breath let out a cry and fell to the ground. Pain etched his face. His eyes conveyed not only physical pain but the pain of death approaching and being helpless to stop it.

The father lifted his sword to run his son through.

"Sir," I called out, "do not kill him on my account. I'm responsible for bringing him here. I didn't know."

The father sneered. "You're doing us all a favor today, boy. Now stay out of this, or you'll be next."

Now I know where Dragon Breath inherited his pleasant disposition.

The father lifted his sword again, but before he could bring it down, the girl ran in front of him.

"Father, he may not be your son anymore, but he is still my brother. Do not kill him." Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared unblinking at him.

The sword wavered, and then he brought it to his side.

She ripped a strip of cloth from her dress, grabbed a stick, and tightened the cloth around his stub to stop the bleeding. Dragon Breath's eyes had glazed over from the loss of blood.

The father turned and left. The girl stood and glared at me. "Well, if you're responsible for bringing him here, the least you could do is help me get him into bed."

I worked to overcome my shock. My family had always been so warm and loving. I'd heard stories, but experiencing the reality impressed the horror upon me.

"Sure." I wondered if I should heal him, but my heart checked that thought. Not yet, later. God must have something to teach him.

I stumbled over to help. "He'll live."

Her face relaxed. "I'm sorry for being so snippy. My name's Gabrielle, and this is my brother, Seth."

"Gabrielle. What a nice name." I noticed her face flushing. "My name's Sisko." I stuck out a hand.

She placed hers in mine. As if I had tapped into an unused nerve, her thoughts rushed toward me. Her soul lay bare before my mind's eye, and what I saw scared me: an image of us embraced in a kiss.

I jerked my hand back. Confusion fought against joy, and confusion won. I had never experienced another's thoughts. Why now? Why her? Yet, her slight smile disappearing into her own confusion revealed she experienced it too. "Hum, yes. We had better get Seth into bed."

Then she raised one corner of her lip as she focused on Seth. "Yes. On the count of three."

She knew. Knew that I had felt something too. I wondered if she had seen into my soul as well, and what she saw in me.

I entered the cabin after a few hours in the forest. Seth lay groaning and tossing in his bed. It felt uncomfortable knowing I could heal him. Had I judged correctly? At least it had given me time to think and pray without fear of an attack.

Their father had left to hunt after making it clear to keep my hands to myself. The two-room cabin had a fireplace on one end. A pot full of soup simmered over the fire, spreading a savory aroma through the room.

Sitting by Seth's side, his sister Gabrielle tended to him, changing the bandages on his stub. Her soft eyes met mine and brightened.

Seth turned his head and frowned. "What's he still doing here?"

"Because I want him here." She smiled at me.

She radiated joy and warmth, a striking contrast from the other two. Like a single star shining in a pitch-black night sky.

"Just look at me." Seth stuck his stub into the air. "I commanded men, and now I'm useless. You've taken away my life!"

"You were in charge of a gang of thugs," Gabrielle said, "He may have saved your life."

"I tried to help," I said.

"You were trying to keep from getting your finger cut off." Seth dropped his arm to his side. "Besides, Sis, this guy's a wizard. He'll bring nothing but evil." He glared at me. "Where does your power come from?"

I fingered the ring. Probably not a good idea to tell him everything. No telling what ideas he might get. "God has given me the ability and responsibility to aid others."

Seth grunted. "You're not very good at it. Maybe God should give you an easier job, like shoveling horse—."

"Seth, stop!" Gabrielle scowled at him.

I lowered my head. If God hadn't called me, I would agree. I pulled on the ring, just in case He had changed his mind. It remained firmly in place.

Gabrielle motioned to me and grabbed two jars. "Pick up two and come with me to draw water from the stream."

We followed a forest path as we talked.

"I apologize for my brother. I'm afraid he's too much like Father. Both are very proud and stubborn."

"If I had known they would try to kill each other, I wouldn't have asked God to bring him here." My eyes remained focused on the path.

"That's probably why God didn't tell you, because He had other ideas." She sighed. "Though, I admit, there doesn't seem to be much hope for either of them. They are both afflicted with a mental sickness that comes and goes. They'll go into a rage over the smallest things."

"If you don't mind my asking, why are they so at odds with each other?"

"Long story, but Father caught him stealing from a neighbor. Ever since then, just seeing him can send my Father into a rage, and that triggers Seth's. They can't be together long before they are swinging swords or fists at each other."

I shook my head. "A mental sickness?"

"That's what I call it. Others say it's the demonic spell an old wizard placed on our family generations ago. And it would seem to be true. All the men since then have raged."

"A wizard, huh? That means there's hope for a cure."

"Hope?" She stopped and faced me. "I often feel hope has failed."

I gazed into her blue eyes. They flickered like a wavering light, barely holding on. "I don't think you can lose hope. But people can give up on it, usually before they should, when things seem blackest."

She stared back as if searching my soul. "You haven't lived as I have, have you?"

I closed my eyes. "No, I haven't."

"Then what do you know of holding onto hope?"

I opened my eyes and saw tears falling down her cheeks. "You haven't lived as I have either. If so, you would know."

She held my gaze for what seemed minutes. Then she continued to the stream. I followed in silence. When we arrived, I helped her fill the jars. Once done, she sat on the root of an old tree by the bank. I sat next to her. Her hand grabbed mine, and a surge of tingles ran up my arm as her thoughts flooded in again.

"If it were not for duty, I would fly away with you. I would experience your life and see this hope you speak of." Her longing eyes stared at me. Her soul lay bare through her touch. Sadness, pain, and despair crowded around a spark of love and hope—in me.

I pulled my hand away, but the feeling of her soft skin and desire for me remained. I didn't want to lead her on, not when she couldn't come. I didn't want to desire what I couldn't have.

"Hope is within each of us. It is in you, I can feel it. My path is to wander, to seek those God wants me to help. You would not find hope there any faster than you would here."

She dropped her head. "You could give it to me."

I lifted her chin to see her eyes. "No, I cannot. I could for a moment. Maybe a day, but it would fade if it doesn't come from within and above."

She stood. "Well, Sisko, if you'll not help me with hope, at least help carry these jars of water to the cabin." She scooped two into her arms and proceeded down the path.

I shook my head, picked up the other two, and followed after her. Did she just ask me to propose marriage? Did I want to? No, I couldn't. It didn't matter what I wanted.

We arrived at the cabin, but she stopped before entering the knoll and turned to me. "Kiss me."

"What?" I blinked.

"I said kiss me. It will confirm the truth of your words." She set her jars on a stump.

"I...I can't. I mean, I shouldn't."

She stepped closer to me. "Then I think you do love me. Kiss me to prove it isn't true."

This seemed a silly way to prove it. But her touch had revealed much. I could only imagine what a kiss might reveal. I doubted I wanted to find out.

I sighed. "Fine." I put the jars on the ground.

She leaned to me, and I to her. Images of silky hair flowing with the wind imprinted upon my mind. Eyes, searching my face, watched as I drew near. I paused, my lips almost touching. Should I?

"What did I say, you miserable leech! Keep away from her!"

I jerked back and saw the father striding toward me, sword unsheathed. "But Sir, I..., I mean, she..." What could I say that he would believe? And would it matter if he now raged?

Gabrielle shoved me. "Run, he means you harm. Get away."

Run I did. She probably thought I could disappear at will as I had appeared. But I couldn't, not to save my life. The father ran after me. Where could I go? What could I do?

He gained on me as I shot across the knoll. Into the forest? He knew it better than I did. He hunted in those woods, and I would be another kill among many. But where?

I could hear his footsteps behind me. Stealing a glance, I saw him draw his sword back. I ran around a tree as his blade headed for my neck. It embedded into the tree instead.

I dashed for the house while he worked to pull his sword from the trunk. I swung open the back door and rushed to the center of the main room. I searched for anything I could use.

My eyes fell on Seth. He glared at me. No time for him, I had to find something. I spotted swords hanging on the mantle. Impulsively I grabbed one and ran for the front door.

The father charged in. "He attempted to kiss Gabrielle," he said to Seth.

I saw Seth rising from his bed. I sped out the door and onto the knoll.

What am I doing? I don't know how to sword fight. Yet, there seemed no other way to defend myself. I had nowhere to hide. Best to face him.

I stopped and turned. The father slowed as he approached, his sword lifted high. Behind him followed Seth, holding his sword in his left hand.

"Run, Sisko!" Gabrielle's voice rang with hopeless desperation.

The father brought down his sword. I blocked it, but the force nearly knocked it from my hand. He swung again fast. I strained as my sword barely kept his next strike from my chest. I wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer. He pulled from underneath. I attempted to block, but he pushed my blade into the air.

Their movements slowed to a third of what it had been, while I moved at a normal speed. His sword swung from the left. I fell backwards as it glided over my dropping body. I landed on my hands and back-flipped away from his reach.

On my feet again, my back settled against an old elm. The father and Seth glided toward me, swords ready to strike a blow.

I had to heal them of this rage. But how could I reverse a wizard's spell? An answer settled into my heart. To undo the spell, I had to take on the sickness. Within, I could defeat it.

I dropped to the ground as their swords passed over me and into the tree. I rolled between their legs and sprang to my feet behind them as they slowly searched me out. To them, I probably seemed to disappear.

I placed my hands on their shoulders. "Father, heal their rage though me."

A light shown around the three of us. I stiffened as I felt a creeping sensation filling my soul. Muddied thoughts clouded my thinking. My rational mind disengaged, as if it left the body. I watched myself from the outside as well as inside. My eyes glared in anger, and I felt helpless to stop it. The light dimmed around us.

The father and Seth shook their heads and returned to a normal speed. They lowered their swords, but I raised mine.

I stared on as my other self lunged at the two men. They dodged my stab. I swung around with amazing speed and clanged my metal against theirs. My blade raced from one sword to the other, pushing, probing, seeking a weakness. I handled the sword as if I had trained all my life.

I watched myself, this stranger, fight in a brilliant dance of death. The seething rage, the single-minded desire to kill the source of my hate drove me. I wanted it, yet my mind knew I shouldn't.

Gabrielle raced up from the side. "Stop, stop the killing!"

But it didn't matter what she said. It sounded like babbling sounds. Eradicating these two men so they could never threaten me again reigned as my single concern.

My sword blurred as it leapt between the two blades, then I saw my opportunity. Seth left himself open. In one sweeping move, I sliced my sword across his belly and landed on the father's blade in time to block it. Seth fell back onto the ground, grimacing.

"No!" Gabrielle sobbed.

I felt my heart sink. How do I stop myself? Hope, I had been told. I had to defeat this hate with hope. I focused, attempting to break through the mind-numbing rage.

Yet, I couldn't make a dent. Now my sword concentrated on the father. He struggled to parry my blows as they blurred from right and left, up and down. He weakened, I could tell. It wouldn't be long now.

"Sisko, stop!" I felt her hand on my shoulder.

I tried to stop, but I couldn't break the mindless reaction. I watched in horror as I swung the sword around and plunged it into her. I paused, staring at her through clenched teeth and fiery eyes.

Oh God, stop me. I'm killing them all! Inside I wept even as my body and mind focused on extermination.

Hope, the answer came again. Hope kills hate.

The father, having seen me pause, attacked. I pulled the sword from her and swung around to lock with his. His eyes betrayed fear, while mine betrayed hate. I shoved, and he flew back, falling to the ground against a tree.

I knew I could break through. I had to. God said I could, and I had to believe. As my sword paused at the father's neck, I found an opening. My face flushed; I breathed hard through clenched teeth. I can stop. I must stop. I will stop the hate. It isn't real. I must not allow it to destroy me.

Will pushed against will. Swords of a different nature clashed in an internal combat. A crack developed in the hate, and hope wedged its way into my numb mind. I felt myself sink back into my body.

"I will not kill you," I said to myself as much as to him. With every movement I struggled to not fall into the hate though it raged hotly throughout me. Reason battled irrationality.

I rose and stared at the spot where Gabrielle lay, blood oozing from her wounds.

Seth had crawled to her and spoke to her in staggered breaths and sobs. "Sis, you're the only one who gave me any hope. I can't live if you leave me. Don't leave me."

I moved closer and heard Gabrielle push the words through the gurgling in her throat. "Brother, I can't give it to you, just don't give up on it." The effort seemed to take all she had. She laid back and waited for death to arrive. Seth joined her in the pool of blood.

Inside, I knew this couldn't be allowed to stand. I killed them. And through God, I could fix it. I pushed my body toward them and knelt beside their dying flesh.

"No you don't—"

I held up a hand to the father. I struggled with all my strength to keep from attacking him again. "I'm going to heal them," I snarled. "They're already dead if I can't, let me try."

He paused and then lowered his sword.

I placed my hands on their bleeding chests. "Father," I growled, "heal their bodies."

Another light fell upon us, but it glowed from within each one rather than without. I cast my head back as rage, fighting to stay, spewed out in one long and loud scream until I collapsed into unconsciousness.

I opened my eyes to a new day. I no longer felt the rage. God had helped me expel it into the abyss. I felt weak, but refreshed.

"Good, you're awake." Gabrielle sank into a seat by the bed. She held a bowl of soup with dry bread in her hands. "Eat this, it will help you regain your strength."

"You're alive. It worked."

"You did it, why act surprised?"

"God did it. I asked." I sat up, and my head spun for a moment. I took the soup from her. As I ate, warmth filled my stomach. Energy empowered my muscles.

"Wherever the power came from, you healed not only our bodies but rid us of the rage as well." She pointed behind me.

I turned and beheld the father and Seth at a table, talking, smiling, and eating together. The night had given way to day.

I finished my soup, and after talking about the events for a while longer, I decided to move on. I grabbed my pack from the floor. "I'll be going now. I'm finished here."

Seth jumped from the table. "Sisko..." He scratched his head. "I've been doing some thinking. Maybe it's not such a great idea for me to go back with my old gang." He stared at the floor and bit his lip. "Maybe, I can join up with you?" His eyes glanced up.

"With me?" I hadn't expected this.

"Yea, I mean, you'll need protection while you travel. You never know when a gang of thieves will jump you." His eyes gleamed.

"Deal." I extended my hand to grab his newly reformed hand. My prayer had healed both his wound and hand. Then he lunged at me and squeezed with his muscular arms.

I turned to Gabrielle, her face beamed with joy. She motioned for me to draw near, reached out, and pulled my face to hers.

I glanced at the father.

He waved his hand. "Go ahead, she ain't getting any younger."

I smiled, then pulled her lips to mine. Scents of basil rolled into my nose as her lips imparted a sweet energy, cementing us in the moment. Floods of thoughts raced through the connection, so vivid but all loving and happy. And there I was at the center of them. She loved me. And I knew she must have seen the same thing in me. I broke the kiss.

"And remind me again, why I cannot go?" she asked.

"Well, it wouldn't be proper, unless we were..." My mouth hung open in mid-sentence.

"Yes, you were saying?" Her eyes sparkled with expectation.

"It just wouldn't be proper, that's all."

She sighed. "You will return, won't you?"

I held both her hands and clasped them against my chest. I knew she could hear my thoughts and my love for her even as I experienced hers.

I looked at Seth, the father, and then back to Gabrielle. "Well, seeing how my new traveling companion is your brother, I would say that is highly likely."

I stood and saw the father extending his hand to me. A gentleness glowed from his eyes as we shook.

Then the father reached for Seth's hand. "I hope you find what you're looking for." He lowered his gaze to the floor as if he explored unfamiliar territory. "Son."

"Thank you, Father." A tear fell down Seth's cheek as he clasped the outstretched hand.

Once packed, Seth and I walked down the mountain path. Gabrielle waved while standing at the threshold. Her father stood next to her. I waved back and then turned to face the path. I didn't want to leave her, but staying wasn't an option. Nor was going home. God would use me to make a difference.

Maybe someday when the ring had finished with me, I could return and maybe even marry her. There's always hope.

R. L. Copple is a father to three children and a husband since 1982 to his wife, Lenita. He earned a B.A. in religion from Southern Nazarene University in 1984, has served as a pastor, and written on many religious topics on a small scale, including his own web site for Christian Orthodox questions and issues. Having a lifelong interest in fiction, it was 2005 that he focused on writing stories to capture the imagination. He has two novels in the editing process and has also published several short stories and poems. You can find a complete list of published works and his blog at < www.rlcopple.com >.

Cover: "Teledhar Tube"

Will the tube car arrive in time?

On the rugged world of Teledhar, domed cities are connected by the elaborate mag-trains that course the planet in elevated tubes.

Created in Bryce 6 and Paint Shop Pro

A homeschooling mom, and a grandma, L. S. King taught martial arts for years, and also coached gymnastics. She loves Looney Tunes and the color purple, and adores Zorro, which might explain her fascination with swords and capes. When on the planet, she lives with her husband and youngest child in Delaware.

She is one of the "Overlords" of the e-zine Ray Gun Revival found at < www.raygunrevival.com >, which also features her space opera serial Deuces Wild.

Visit her website Loriendil's Dreamland at < www.loriendil.com > to read her published short stories, her blog, or to catch up on back stories of Deuces Wild.

Unknown Realities

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