Split Decisions

Ithel stood in the middle of a blizzard staring through a wall of whiteness at the dark mass of mountain that loomed before him regretting his decision to leave the village, but he quickly shook his fur cap covered head. He knew that this was the risk he took when he left, but he also knew the lingering stares he was starting to receive told him the risk was greater to stay.

Unfortunately, he could not remember if the trail went to the left or right around the mountain, and all traces of it had been lost in the whiteness. Too many bad things had happened to him going right, so he readjusted his pack and turned left.

The path quickly became filled with hidden rocks that constantly tripped him up and worse the ground grew steeper until it slowly narrowed to a small ledge that perched perilously over an icy, boulder filled river.

Ithel knew that he could turn back, but he also knew that if he could just get to the other side of the mountain their was another village he could spend the night. So, he trudged forward until in a manner that was just too fitting for Ithel’s life, the cliff gave way, and he tumbled down the slope banging off rocks and small trees into the river with only his unfortunate ankle hitting a rock.

The river quickly sucked Ithel forward, and the weight of his sword and axe pulled him under. After recovering from the initial shock of the water and the pain in his ankle, he quickly unclasped his weapons and surged towards the surface.

After taking one gasp of air, the water pulled him under again. He tried to swim to the surface, but the weight of his water-logged clothes was too much. Frantically, he pulled off his deer skin gloves, ripped his way out of his bear skin coat, and swam for the surface. He took one gasp of air and was pulled under again. He continued to fight for air as the river tossed and thrashed about. Finally, when his strength was nearly spent, the rapids ended, and the river calmed.

Bloody and exhausted, Ithel stroked slowly to the icy, tree-lined bank. He pulled his upper body out of the water and stopped to take a well earned rest, but he knew he couldn’t stay there. He could already feel the cold soaking into his bones.

He tried to stand, but when he tried to put weight on his injured ankle, he collapsed as pain lanced through him. Undaunted, he pulled himself with just his arm and his good leg into the edge of the forest. Then, he covered himself with snow and old fallen leaves hoping that they would give him some form of insulation.

As he stared up through the pine needles at the still falling snow, Ithel thought, “I can’t believe this is how it is finally going to end for me,”. Then, with his strength utterly spent he passed out.

But, we know that was not to be Ithel’s fate. Moments later, Callum, a twelve-year old boy, tripped over Ithel as he made his way to check his fishing lines in the river.

At first Callum thought Ithel was dead, but then, he breathed giving him a grateful start. After he collected himself, he hurried to Ithel’s side and tried to wake him to no avail. Knowing that Ithel was much too big for him to carry himself, he hopped to his feet and raced the short journey home.

When he barged into his house, his mother, Elsie, was busy working on dinner with his baby sister, Esme, in one arm as his father, Lachlan, sat in the corner nursing a jug of ale as usual. Seeing the distress on Callum’s face, Elsie asked, “What’s wrong,” and he said, “There’s a man down by the river who’s hurt really bad.”

“Which man?” asked Elsie.

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before.”

“And he’s hurt bad?”

“I think so.”

Then, Elsie turned to her husband and said, “Go help him bring this man here.”

“Why? We don’t even know him.”

“Because it’s the proper thing to do. Now go.”

Lachlan mumbled a few choice oaths quietly enough that he was sure his wife wouldn’t hear, then, put his jug of ale down and followed his son out the door.

With a tremendous effort and with the help of Callum, Lachlan managed to drag Ithel back to their home where Elsie quickly ordered them to strip him of his remaining clothes and put him into their bed.

After doing a quick assessment of Ithel’s wounds, Elsie wrapped up his ankle and rubbed some tree sap on his cuts. Then, she stacked their blankets over him and let him rest.

The next morning, Ithel awoke to warmth, the smell of pine smoke and dried fish, and a gentle all too familiar tug inside his soul. Hearing someone enter, he opened his eyes and saw Elsie walk in carrying an armful of wood with Esme strapped to her back.

As she dropped the wood near their fireplace, Elsie said, “How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thanks to you,” said Ithel as he sat up.

“I left a little porridge for ya, if you’d like it.”

“That’d be wonderful.”

Elsie brought him a bowl, and Ithel ate as he watched her move briskly through her morning tasks.

When he finished, he said, “That was delicious.”

“It’s just porridge.”

“Good porridge.”

She shrugged, and Ithel tried to stand.

Elsie quickly said, “I wouldn’t do that. Your ankle is in mighty bad shape.”

Ithel carefully tried putting weight on his ankle causing pain to rip through his body. He sat back down and said, “You’re right, which means you’re stuck with me for the next few days.”

“I think it’s going to take more than time than that.”

“I heal fast.”

Elsie shrugged and went back to work. She had too much to do to worry about Ithel’s what she perceived as foolishness.

After three days of watching Elsie and Callum doing their best to keep their little homestead running and Lachlan lazing about, Ithel got out of bed despite Elsie’s protests. His ankle did still hurt, but he couldn’t take lying down anymore. He started by chinking the little gaps that had formed in their walls and chopping wood. Then, he patched leaking spots in their roof and showed Callum how to make a simple funnel fish trap and small game snares.

Two days later with his ankle feeling nearly healed, he gathered Elsie, Callum, and Lachlan together and said, “For saving my life, you get three wishes.”

Lachlan yelped with joy. Ithel shot him a hard look and said, “Not you. Callum gets three wishes.”

“What? He didn’t save your life. I did.”

“This is a not a discussion. Callum saved my life. He gets three wishes. I am only telling you so that you will understand what happens next. I did not want you to think Callum was some demon.”

“I don’t believe this,” said Lachlan. Then, Elsie said softly, “Are you an angel?”

Ithel ignored her question and said, “I need to be alone with Callum for him to make his wishes.”

Elsie nodded and quickly ushered a still upset Lachlan out of the house.

When they were alone together, Ithel said, “Take your time and wish wisely.”

“What can I wish for?”

“You could wish for food to get you through the winter or I’ve noticed Esme has developed a cough. You can wish for her to be healed.”

“Ok, I wish for that.”

“You have to actually say what you are wishing for.”

Callum nodded and said, “I wish for food to get us through winter and for my sister, Esme, to be healed.”

Nothing visible happened. No smoke. No noise. No light. Nothing. Callum was disappointed, but Ithel quickly said, “What’s your last wish?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look deep into your heart and wish for what you most desire.”

Callum said, “I wish for a mighty broadsword,” and just as the words has left his mouth it was there in his hands. It had a gorgeously ornate handle and a two foot long gleaming, double-edged steel blade.

As Callum stared in wonder at his sword, Ithel stood up and walked out the door just to be confronted by Lachlan who shouted, “What did he wish for?”

“Food to get you through the winter, Esme to be healed, and a sword,” said Ithel coldly.

“A sword? What in the bloody hell is he going to do with a sword!?”

Ithel shrugged and started to walk off as Elsie tried to calm her husband down.

“Where are you going?” shouted Lachlan.

“I don’t know,” said Ithel as he continued walking.

Lachlan quickly shooed away Elsie and ran inside their home. In an instant, he returned with Callum’s sword and charged in front of Ithel.

He brandished the sword at Ithel and said, “You’re not leaving until you grant one of my wishes.”

“Yes, I am.”

Ithel tried to walk past him, and Lachlan swung the sword at his head. For some reason Ithel could never fully explain, maybe it was just a reflexive garnered for years of battle, maybe he thought Callum and Elsie would be better off with out him, or maybe he just really didn’t like him, but for whatever reason, Ithel easily blocked Lachlan’s swing, ripped the sword out of his hand, and rammed it through his chest.

As Lachlan fell to the ground, Elsie screamed. Ithel just watched as Elsie ran to Lachlan with tears streaming down her face and Esme in her arms.

Then, Callum appeared in the doorway and glared at Ithel with anger and hatred in his eyes. Ithel dropped his and slowly walked into the forest leaving Elsie’s anguished wailing behind him.