Swords and Chocolate Cake

“Beraikah, see my eyes. There is no magic in this.” The voice of Quintis was quiet, but stern. Locked below a heavy, hairy brow, his fiery, gold-flecked eyes held a depth of wisdom that belied his brutish appearance. “Realize, there is no magic.” He winked. “Again, present,” he growled.

“But I have seen it.” Beraikah hissed, readjusting her helmet and shoulder plates. “I have had magic worked upon me.” Beraikah clenched her teeth, her eyes near tears, flashing at having tried to conjure the strength and courage to withstand Quintis’ broadsword, and having failed for the twentieth time.

“Power. That is what you have had worked upon you. There is no magic, else any can learn incantations or curses, and ward against them. Such is far too simple. Power, on the other hand, power one is born with. One must learn to develop it to the high arts. Power within is the only means of defending against power from without. Now, again. Present.” Quintis raised his eight-foot blade high in the air and bellowed, “Defend!”

Beraikah looked startled. Sliding her two-foot sword six paces in front of her, she ducked, just as Quintis slashed his blade furiously above her head. Simultaneously somersaulting forward, she snatched up her sword, and plunged it through the cinch where Quintis’ inner-thigh-guard and chain-belted girdle met. “Power!” Beraikah screamed, and wrenched the blade free.

“Yeeeooowwch!” Quintis roared, leaping back, dark-purplish blood spurting from where her steel had stung.

Cat-like, Beraikah rolled into his blind spot. Peeling off her helmet, she triumphantly declared, “Power.” Her voice quavered at the awakening within her. Growing splotches of blood stained the reed mats as Quintis danced in pain. Her bloodied blade trembled as she queried, “Power?”

“Why you cheeky little imp. I ought to thrash you,” he bellowed. His twinkling eyes glowed, accompanied by an enormous smile spreading across his hideous gorilla face. “Right after I give you one of my hugs,” he laughed uproariously. He grabbed her and roughed up her long, jet-black hair. “Beautifully done, Princess, beautifully done,” he declared in the quiet thunder that was his voice.

“But your wound?”

“This blood I gladly offer, your highness. You have shed it in honor.” His laughter filled the dojo.

His mass enveloped Beraikah as she breathed in the musky scent of her tutor. “I learned from the best,” she murmured, and she felt like weeping. Letting out a long and pained sigh she mused, “There is no magic.”

* * *

Following a lengthy salts-bath, massage, and lean meal, Beraikah ambled to the porticoed veranda. Fragrances of jasmine and lemon blossoms blended with aromas of sandalwood and cedar incense. Fountains and flitting songbirds sang accompaniment. “Your highness, delicacies from the southern coasts presented for the sweet-course.” A sagheer, a lemur-like creature, bowed and ushered the princess to a low, spreading, brass table, surrounded by plush, light-blue pillows with coordinated carpets.

By the far pillars, the hulking mass of Quintis stood beside a large, black feline. “Quintis your chief defender, and Aldux your councilor, to confer, your highness.” The sagheer indicated the pair.

Beraikah beckoned. “Sit. Share my dessert?” She turned to the sagheer. “What do you call these?” indicating the table.

“The plump fruit is called mango, the long yellow ones are bananas, these orange ones are persimmon. The large, round pastry is torta-de-chocolata or chocolate cake and berries. Enjoy, your majesty.”

The princess, reclined, dressed in a long, emerald-green silk gown, her hair braided with gold thread. Aldux, the black panther, wore a midnight-blue frock, hemmed in gold, and a gold choker. And Quintis, robed in flowing yellow silks and an enormous light-green turban, smoked a water pipe.

Quintis was on his fourth banana, second mango, and third slice of chocolate cake when he registered two sets of eyes upon him.

Beraikah chuckled, “Finish, please, sir. It obviously is to your liking.”

Aldux frowned and tapped his cheek. “Quin, you missed some.” He cleared his throat and continued, “I hear we had a breakthrough today, your majesty. Would you care to enlighten me?” Stroking his long whiskers, he purred contentedly.

“She got lucky was all.” Quintis smiled affectionately at his pupil and rubbed his fingers across the plate to get the last bits of frosting and chocolate cake.

“Your attention, sir?” Aldux scowled.

A sheepish grin crossed the gorilla’s face as he gently placed the cake platter down.

Aldux looked at Quintis sideways and spoke, “That’s not the way I hear it. Without my proper instruction in anatomy, you may be sitting a little less pretty.”

Quintis frowned.

Beraikah slowly began. “I felt . . . a light grow within me . . . guiding both my thinking and my hands.” She breathed deeply. “But it remained . . . muddled. There was still the fear, but . . . every step lay clearly before me. I simply followed.” Her voice got quiet. “The courage and fear . . . merged, commingling.”

Aldux peered long at Beraikah before turning to Quintis. “This is good news,” he spoke with a slight smile.

Quintis beamed. “For this step forward, I willingly give blood.” Looking hard at Beraikah, he continued, “Princess, it is enough for you today to sense these two imposters, courage and fear, and reign them in. Neither courage nor fear is real. They merely reflect your inner responses to who you are becoming.” His eyes kindled. “This is only the beginning of the beginning. Tomorrow, you rest. Come morning, you sit quietly in contemplation. Master Ba will instruct you. His wisdom is deep, so please, laugh not nor tease him, regardless of what he says or does.” That gracious smile returned. “But even now, for a conquering hero, sleep is required.” He lifted his chin, indicating the approach of two diminutive messengers.

The sagheers tiptoed in and bowed low. “Majesty, your dreams have been kindled and await your presence.”

Beraikah stretched, yawned, and stood up creaking and groaning. “I have you to thank for this tired, bruised body, Quintis. I only hope your pain is a mere fraction of mine.” She hobbled off.

Quintis watched the escorts and princess recede, and murmured, “I would take all your pains if you could learn only half of what you need.”

Aldux spoke, “She is only twelve. How can she be expected to bear the burden of her being.”

Quintis looked over at Aldux. “Already three years too old you mean.” He looked down the corridor where moments before she had disappeared. “I am a cruel guide, my friend. I have told her nothing of the true terrors which lie ahead.” He sighed deeply. “Your lessons are for the brain, which will never break. Mine are for the heart, and the heart is made for breaking.” He shook his head slowly and fixed his eyes on Aldux. “She knows nothing of her lot. But she will, soon enough, she will.”

* * *

Master Ba, a lanky baboon, sat lotus-style, eyes closed. Total serenity bathed his face. Perched atop a bowl of fresh fruits and vegetables, he reposed, a single sandal set precariously atop his head. To his right lay a plush, embroidered cushion waiting for her royal highness. She quietly spied through the door, sniggered, and snuck to her spot. Master Ba made no sound.

Beraikah, assuming a similar position, closed her eyes. For close to an hour, no one moved or spoke.

“Hummm.” Master Ba let out a long breath. “Try again.”

Beraikah looked up at the baboon questioningly.

Master Ba, eyes still closed, muttered, “Your entrance, try again.”

Beraikah got up and walked back to the door. She turned, breathed in deeply, and quietly tip-toed to the cushion and sat down, trying to emulate the Master’s posture. For a half hour they sat before Master Ba exhaled long and hard. “Again.”

Beraikah stood and paced back to the door. Again, she composed herself, tip-toed in and sat down. This time she placed one of her sandals on her head.

Five minutes later. “Again,” the quiet voice of Master Ba broke the silence.

Beraikah looked all around the room trying to gain a clue as to what she was obviously not getting. Quietly she tip-toed in again and sat down on the cushion, placing her sandal on her head. She peeked over at the Master to see if he would open his eyes. How else could he know what she was doing?

Two minutes later, Master Ba slowly turned his head and eyed the princess. “What have you failed to learn?”

Surprised, Beraikah quipped, “I don’t know, you haven’t told me.”

Master Ba held her gaze. “A noble ruler is in no way superior to her lowest subject.” He patted the sandal atop her head. “Emphatically, she must ascertain this truth. But not if she sits upon a cushion.” He studied the offending piece of furniture before looking into the princess’ eyes. “From stardust, all things begin. Sitting upon dust, you learn your true place, even for a princess.” He turned and resumed his fixed stature. “Again,” he quietly voiced.

Beraikah strode back to the door, quietly slid in, and moving the cushion to one side, sat down, and placed her sandal on her head. Settled upon the cool marble, she occasionally adjusted her posture as her bottom started to grow numb. After half an hour she let out a small sigh of pain as her legs started to tingle with pins and needles. Master Ba sat motionless. Beraikah glanced over at his pedestal and wondered why she had to sit on the ground, and he got to sit on something soft.

“Your question is meaningless, child. My situation is no different than your marble pavers, or dust, or another bowl of fruit. Time reverts all things to dust. I simply sit upon a more mature and processed form of dust than yours.” He opened his eyes. “Follow.” He stood and strolled out into the garden. He stooped, and bringing a handful of soil to his nose, inhaled a deep whiff. “A plant’s roots take up water and minerals.” He let fall the soil. “But it is sunlight,” he pointed heavenward, “and air that create and produce each leaf, each fruit, each grain.” He strode to a small vegetable plot and pulled up a carrot and green onion. “Same soil, same water, same air, same sunshine, different taste. Why?”

Beraikah looked the two vegetables over and stated, “They are different kinds of plants?”

“So it is with power. Who you are is not dependent upon the elements around you. Such things are the same for all. Who you are is dependent upon your essence, your beingness. But, you must find balance. Too much of any element brings chaos. It stunts one’s growth. Of what value is an orange tree if it does not produce oranges?” He munched the onion and carrot in unison. “Even you, child, contain power only in a frame of dust. When you tread upon this earth, remember, you tread upon your future . . . as well as your past. And once your power is spent, you too return to dust.”

He settled himself upon a mound of freshly tilled garden, and, placing heaping handfuls of soil, covered his head. On top of that, he set his sandal. “Come, child, glory now in your inevitable decay. Loose the bonds, this silly infatuation with your being human. True power allows one to sit on the ground, and that same ground to rest above your head, and still remain who you truly are.”

Beraikah hesitated. Master Ba, opening one eye, stated, “Sit. It is best to learn humility now while you retain the power in yourself. A time may come when someone else may wield it.”

Beraikah frowned, plunked down, and placed a small handful of dirt upon her silken hair, her sandal resting precariously atop it all. Statue-like, enthroned in dirt, they meditated until the chiming indicating sunset.