The Heart Shaped Locket

"All of us gathered here this night understand technically, theoretically and clinically, the necessity of rules and the principles behind them." Alina the Bard shifted upon her makeshift platform, eying the gathered crowd. I loved listening to her voice. "Rules properly placed provide true freedom. However life’s not that simple. Rules soon become laws and oppression sets in. Oppression is intolerable. So, once free, how do we keep rules from going beyond their intended purpose? How do we make them guide, protect, and serve us? Are they there to hinder us, or help us and do we have the right to break them, if its what’s needed.

"Now I’m talking to the bard.

"Are we, the Bard, not here for the people. To help them assimilate truth. To discern that which leads to freedom from that which leads to enslavement. Through stories real and imagined come lessons for life. Yet are we not also guided by rules. Rules of language, rules of the word. And just like in life, sometimes we keep the rules, sometimes we break them.

"It’s what we do.

"But why?"

The Bard paused, allowing her hand to slip to her heart shaped locket, her one constant companion. Not an unusual move for her, yet I could sense her discomfort, my inner self mirroring that discomfort. Something was amiss, but what? I scanned the skies. Sensing the change within me, Keeper Johnathan unsnapped his holster, his fingertips gracing his fire pistol.

"What is it, Marissa?"

I felt my fire pistol itch at my side, which was odd, for as a Watcher, I’d never owned one.

"I don’t know, a feeling."

"You know we’re safe right? Fundies don’t know about this place, and no way the Lobos could get here." But he didn’t sound convinced for he’d learned to trust my instinct years ago, not long after the Fall.

I shrugged, my hand now oddly itching for the feel of that non-existent fire pistol.

Would I even know how to fire one.

Could I?

Picking up on my growing tension, Johnathan’s eyes narrowed.

"I’m gonna scout. Keep me posted." He spoke into his walkie, then he was off.

I turned my attention to the crackling bonfire. Its rising flames casting dancing shadows among the gathered Bards, Outlanders, Keepers, Protectors and my fellow Watchers. Infants and children fussed, mothers hushed, as the Bard of all bards, her soft voice, kind, yet strong, kept all within her thrall. My mind wondered, It was so peaceful here, under the harvest moon in the cool dead of the night. Even the misquotes seemed subdued, chased off perhaps by the burning pine boughs and nettle. We’d come so far since the Fall, building a place in this new world, away from the heavy handed tyrannical Fundamentals and the Lobos deadies that crowded the old cities.

Here, we were safe.

Still something didn’t feel right. I glanced passed the flames, Keeper Talena met my glance, unsnapping her holster, her feet shifting uncharacteristically

She must have felt it too, but she seemed … off.

The bards tone raised an octave.

"As our independence grows, the need for truth continues. The Bard must move beyond the spoken word to the written. Do the rules follow, do we have new rules to learn, and does it matter? What is of most important to the people, our story or the rules? What is the most important thing to living, our freedom or the rules? Do we tell our tale in the active voice only, do we spare our adjectives and adverbs, do we hyper focus on who said what, do we slavishly stick to the he said she said diatribe, avoiding added attributions?

"Do we fret out over literary echoes, or repetitions? Do we stay free from info dumps, and back stories, living within strict pre-set confines? In life, is that not what the Fundies want? Confinement, restriction, control. So what is best? We, the Bard, must choose. I say to you, the Bard; spin the tale that needs to be spun, the way it needs to be spun, so that the people can simply live the way they need to live … free."

The Bard hesitated, her eyes scanning past the gathered and into the depth of the Pine Barrens surrounding us. Upon the ground just to her left, Talena shifted, her fingertips touching her fire pistol.

I eyed the sky.

"If we keep our voice urgent and our message clear, if our story is sound, who cares? Who really cares? When we speak, when our voice fills the air, does the listener say, 'hey hold it, hold it, wait, wait a minute Bard, you’re using too many adjectives, oh wait, now an adverb and is that the passive voice'?

"No, and why not?

"Because the Bard is a dragon. We don’t tell a story, we breath it like fire.

"We do this so the people can live like living fire, unstoppable. But soon, as new settlements begin, we will need to commit our words to the printed page. We will need our grammatical rules, just like the settlements will need rules of conduct, but not laws of restriction. We must set the example, and not become despotic. We must let the printed word live, set the adjective and the adverb and the voice free. Let it dance upon the souls of the people."

She paused, stepping back, her eyes darting about, her hand tight upon her pendant. What did she feel, what did she know, was she also a Watcher? I was confused as I felt her fear, but again, of what? By now the Outlanders were applauding, the Bards fingers snapping, a chant rising from within their midst, while the watchers watched.

"Freedom, freedom!"

Alina hushed the crowd, but my eyes were upon Talena.

Why was her hand holding the pistols grip?

"The plague has been beaten, the fallen buried. Yet, the Lobos deadies; the lobotomized ones that live in body only, the Fundamental’s use to hunt us, to spread fear, to exact there despotic ends. They use them to corral us into their new cities, indentured servants, taxed beyond life, freedoms denied by their so called, 'new' constitution. Fodder for their experiments, for their pleasure. But you, the Outlanders, you did not fear the plague, the Lobos nor the Fundies. Now, aided by the Watchers, the armed Protectors and Keepers, and guided by we, the Bards, you are on the doorsteps of freedom.

"Free is the spoken word, and soon the written word as well. Imagine holding a book filled with words free from the Fundamental’s mind constraints. Imagine freedom from the fear of mind control, the fear of being hunted, free to build and plant and grow. Free of their cities and cells and the Lobos. Free to raise families. Free to live."

She stepped back. The Outlanders rose, cheering, joined by the finger snapping Bards and in it all, I lost sight of Talena. At my hip, my none existent fire pistol burned. Alina stepped forward, silencing the crowd. Her hand once again upon her heart shaped pendant, this time lifting it above her head, pumping her fist skyward, the heart shape pendent reflecting the fire in its metallic glory.

"Freedom!"

Alina, pumped the pendent skyward once again, its metallic sheen reflecting upon all.

I was captivated, having momentarily forgotten about Talena and my ever growing unease.

"Freedom!"

Now the people joined her, chanting along with her every pump.

"FREEDOM, FREEDOM, FREEDO …."

Out of the dark, a blinding light sliced through Alina the bard, yet for some reason my eyes focused on the pendant flying skyward. By the time I looked back to the bard, she was nothing more than flickering flames and scorched, smoldering bones.

Not a soul moved, not a soul breathed.

Then I saw her, Keeper Talena, glaring up at the platform, her eyes, insane. Moonlight and the Bards dying embers glinting off the metal in her hand, her fire pistol, its muzzle glowing red.

Brilliant light arced from it again and she was racing into the crowd, firing wildly it seemed, cutting down all in her path, until I realized she was targeting the keepers and protectors, cutting them down before they could react, before their shock cleared.

"Bow to the new constitution," she cried out. "Fundamentals arise!"

She wasn’t alone, for other Keepers and Protectors had joined her, cutting down their own, as a fire fight ensued, but didn’t last long. Soon they were gunning for the bards and watchers. Talena fired upon me, an arc slicing the empty space where I’d just been, for I was already on the move, evading arc after arc as above us, the sky lit up.

Soon there were small sky ships descending by the dozens.

The whir of the descending ships, the distinctive sizzle of fire pistols, and the screams, the god awful screams, the sound of burning flesh and the horrible smell bombarded me, threatening to completely consume me and drown me in its hell.

"Run Malina run!"

It was Jonathan, his fire pistol crackling that deadly light, cutting down traitorous Keeper and Protector after Traitorous Keeper and Protector, who kept him busy from targeting Talena, now engaged in my relentless pursuit. White arc after white arc slicing by, its heat burning my clothing, searing my flesh, but I was always just one step ahead. I had what I was after, even before I realized I was after it, snatching it off the ground behind the podium that was now nothing but a blazing funeral pyre.

Now I was in the barrens, in amongst the tall pines, dodging blast after blast, tree after tree, fiery explosions and burning shrapnel everywhere. My feet, the feet of a watcher, somehow knowing just where to go and just what to do, never slowing down. Around this tree, down this gully, into this valley, around that tree, and I ran and I ran and I ran.

No thought, except run, run, run.

I believe the dawn broke through the barrens canopy before my pace broke. I soon realized all was quiet. No screaming, no fire pistols, nothing except for the sound of a nearby running brook, and morning call of the pine warbler. Stumbling amongst the green slime covered rocks, I fell into the brook, sitting upon my ass, welcoming the ice cold water washing over me. Only then did I dare to open my left hand and look at what id snatched before entering the barrens, its scorched metal cold now imbedded deep into my burned flesh. Though scorched, most of it still shone, reflecting the early morning sun in, its heart shaped glory, its chain still intact.

I knew then and there, what I held in my hand.

Freedom.

But that, that was well over what, 60, 70 years back. I didn’t know anymore. Taking a deep breath, I leaned back in my old rocker, looking out the glass sliders over the Pine Barrens towards the valley of that fateful day, where a massive stature of Alina, the Bard of Freedom, now stood. My feeble arthritic left hand trembling slightly, the heart shaped scar within the palm tingling like fire, the locket itself sitting safely under my grannies frock.

Awe Gram Gram, don’t stop now."

But I had to.

We’d made it, Johnathan and I, and a few others, trekking together across the outlands, running, hiding, but always speaking. And wherever we went, so went the scorched heart shaped locket. We were all Bards now, Bards by necessity. Living human dragons, breathing the fire of the living word, spreading the seed of freedom, until that day, when the last of the Lobos deadies died off, the Fundamentals fell, and freedom won.

Yes, we have rules.

But the biggest rule of all is; the rule of the word, freedom and the heart shaped locket.