The Harrow Brothers
By Natalia Vega Maisonave specially written for ‘’Cherish’’ by Piano Del Cuore.
“But don’t let him get too close,” my brother Caisson warned me. “If you let them get too close, you’ll have to use your sword.” I draw my bowstring closer to me, aim at the soldier charging at me and release it–a clean hit on the forehead.
Caisson grips my shoulders hard and shakes me, “Great shot, Ren!” I smile. The satisfaction of making my brother proud is better than shooting a perfect arrow. Although we’re only a year apart in age, the gap feels immensely huge. I don’t think I’ll ever be as valiant or strong as Caisson, neither physically nor mentally.
The clang of swords, the thud of arrows and the screams of the injured fill my ears. The battle has been going on for about twenty minutes. By now, it is obvious who the victorious are, the men of Sanlev. I am proud to form part of their ranks with Caisson.
As soon as I kill the man, Caisson walks toward the body. “We should be heading back.” I suggest, following him as always.
“I want to see your last kill, Ren. Besides, the battle is almost over.” We kneel down to see the man.
My eyes widen when I spot a mark on the man’s cheek. “Why, would you look at that, Caisson?”
“I see it.”
“He has almost the exact same birthmark as you do! Only yours is on your arm.” Since little, Caisson has had a very distinct birthmark in the shape of a lion on the inner side of his forearm. Because of it, we are known as the Lion’s sons. It perfectly suits him because he is just as brave and bold. As for me, they say I’m as ferocious as one in battle. I’m not one to complain about that. Being identified with a lion is a great thing. But my brother is the one who truly embodies the name, to share the same blood as him is such an honor. Since we were little, I’ve always wanted to be like him, but even if we have the same level of skill, I’ll never truly be better than him. Does that make me weird? If it does, then I don’t care.
He sighs sadly. “If I’d met him under different circumstances, I bet we would’ve gotten along fairly.” He closes the helmet’s visor to hide the man’s face. He straightens up fast and adds in a totally different, happier tone, “Better luck in the next life. Come on, let’s go, our job has been done.”
The festivities that come after a victory are the most popular in Sanlev. A banquet is prepared for everyone, wine is passed from one to another, and not to mention all the maidens running about.
The King was told of my brother and I’s numerous feats in battle, and to commemorate us, he dedicated the celebration in our name–the Harrow brothers. The air was dense and humid as the people welcomed us back like heroes, shouting our names and throwing flowers from second story windows. Caisson and I lead the victory procession to the middle of Sanlev, where the King was expecting us.
We take our time getting there, enjoying the attention; waving at the girls that swayed at our sight; admiring the golden banners with a lion’s silhouette painted on it, symbolizing my brother and me; and just looking at the people we fight for. Caisson and I are lucky to be loved by the people, ever since our first battle five years ago, we’ve been praised and glorified.
We finally reach the King’s Square. It is overflowing with people, more than usual. One more soul and the place will fall down. Some of the knights have to help make way for us and the army. King Ralus sits on a chair, designed specifically for him, with men and women on his right and on his left–some of his court members. The marching knights disperse into the crowd and join in on the celebration. Caisson and I stay together and someone places cups of wine in our hands while others push us forward to be presented to the King. The mood is light and playful all around, even King Ralus himself is laughing seeing how the crowd ushers us to him.
“They’ve pushed us all the way to the King’s steps,” Caisson laughs. The King, his cheeks red from drinking, stands before us. We are at the center of a small circular, ten feet or so from the King and the crowd all around. There is also a deep stone dish on a pedestal filled with clear water for the Knight’s Omen, performed to the greatest fighters of every battle on their return. Tonight, it will be Caisson and me. We kneel to His majesty.
King Ralus raises his goblet and all noise disappears, he clears his throat. “Tonight, we celebrate yet another victory for Sanlev,” the crowd cheers momentarily, “and we celebrate it because of two exceptional war talents. Do you know who they are?” King Ralus raises one eyebrow very dramatically and the people laugh. To not know our names in this kingdom is to not live in this kingdom. “No one knows who they are?” the King sung. The crowd erupts into more cheers and raise their banners and cups, pouring some wine over us. “THE HARROW BROTHERS.” The people scream even louder.
Caisson gets close to my ear and jokes, “Why, that’s us, Ren.” I laugh. As if it weren’t obvious.
Once the chaos calms down, the King continues in a more serious tone. “Born and raised Sanlev men. Protectors of our kingdom, these men have done nothing but good for us. They’ve risen through the ranks on their own merits and are deserving of being tonight’s guests of honor. The Sons of Lions… Caisson and Ren Harrow.” The people cheer at us again, but in a more formal manner. A proper one for the King’s words.
A man dressed in a white and red robe, seated next to the King, stands up. The court diviner. He’s the one responsible for reading the omens. He stands beside the King, the King notices him and goes on.
“As it’s been done since the foundation of Sanlev, the court diviner will read our Knights’ Omens. We shall see what omen the gods see fit for our two heroes.” With that, King Ralus sits and the court diviner walks down the three small steps leading to the stone dish. He puts his hand on it and speaks words in an old language, one that is only known to the gods and their chosen ones. The water on the dish swirls until it becomes a translucent white. He points to me, which means I go first. No one makes a sound while the omen is in process. I put my hands in the water and it spins until it darkens to a black liquid. Everyone gasps, and complete silence comes after. Not one person dares to say it but the diviner.
“Your omen is death.” The rest of the night was a blur. It took a solemn turn, and everyone was in a state of distress. How could one celebrate when such an omen was given? Caisson denied having his omen read because of mine having been such bad fortune. If it was a good omen, he didn’t want to know it, so he could be in solidarity with me. Afterwards, the royal messenger told me the King had a quest for me. The day after, I went to him.
“It isn’t known by anyone but my closest court members, Ren Harrow. You must act alone.”
“Not even my brother?” I ask, and the King shakes his head. It’s more of an assassination than a quest, but it’s not my place to divulge in such things. “I accept the quest.” I understand why it has to be me, I am the best archer in the army and a trusted knight. I will bring that man down.
The King told me of a bastard in the castle that they can’t catch. Every couple of nights, at the latest hour, a hooded figure gets by the guards and walls undetected until the figure is seen entering the King’s ward’s room. When the knights inspect the place for him, he is nowhere to be seen. But it is known that the King’s ward and the fugitive go to bed together. Even knowing this, the culprit hasn’t been caught. It is important that the King’s ward doesn’t find out that the King knows of this, for if she knew, the man will never be apprehended and killed. King Ralus explained to me the dangers of this man, someone who can get in and out of the castle undetected, someone that could ruin the marriage arrangements made for Lady Selien if this was made common knowledge. The man must be killed.
I go home and prepare for my quest tonight and stumble upon Caisson. “I’m guessing you took the quest?”
I grab my quiver and arrows, “You know one can’t refuse a quest from the King, Caisson.” I sigh, I didn’t really wish to do this quest.
“Oh, you’re going to do great, Ren! I remember our first quest, it was fun wasn’t it?”
“We barely made it alive!”
“Exactly!” We both laugh.
“This isn’t like other quests, it’s much simpler.”
He hands me an arrow that fell from my quiver, “Am I allowed to know of this quest?”
I check the string of my bow, “I asked, and he said no. A shame really. When it’s over I’ll tell you all about it, but I doubt it will be filled with action.”
He stares at me and in a very low voice says, “A mysterious quest for a mysterious man.” And he kisses me on the cheek, grabs me by the neck and connects our forehead. “I wish you good fortune on this quest, my brother. Don’t mind the omen. I know for a fact it’s false.”
“Shhh. Lower your voice,” I warn him. “If anyone were to hear that, you’d be decapitated where you stand.” He just laughs it off and opens the door for me.
“Go and complete your quest,” he gives me a hug before I leave.
“I will for you, Caisson.”
That night on the castle.
It’s been around two hours that I’ve been crouching here, camouflaged in a small patch of bushes. The only movements I’ve seen are those of the guards doing their rounds in the castle. I am to do this every night until the bastard is caught. As soon as I see him, I’ll take him out. I won’t take any chances having in mind the omen that I received. A death omen. The only person I ever heard of receiving such an omen died a tragic death. Her body was burned, but what killed her were seizures that surged two days after the burns. Her last days were in pure agony.
I need to focus. Another hour went by and then I finally saw movement. It’s a hooded figure, just as the King told me. He’s already inside the castle and not even I saw anything until he had reached the ward’s tower. He still needs to climb the tower itself and that will give me a perfect opportunity to shoot him. I can definitely kill him while he’s still moving on the floor, but I want him to fall for what he’s doing, as some sort of punishment that will later be a good story for the King.
In seconds he has already begun to climb with two sharp objects, sticking them in holes throughout the tower. I grab an arrow, aim and breathe. Caisson always says to breathe before shooting to not mess up the aim, and it’s become my #1 rule. I inhale deeply, tighten my bow and let the arrow fly. It strikes him right in the head.
I run to look at the man’s face and it’s facing down. I reach to turn him and, before doing that, I see a birthmark in the shape of a lion on the inside of his forearm. My brother, Caisson.
