THE ESSENCE OF UNITY

by

Steve Lynch

I - Home

Councilman Kamon's rover hit a deep pothole in the muddy gravel road. The vehicle bounced wildly; his head slammed into the roof of the cab. The springs in the seat squealed, straining under his bulky frame. His lips tightened. Kamon did not mutter an oath, but his countenance remained dark and grim.

The rover kept moving. Kamon continued to peer solemnly into the torrent of water. His windshield wipers dashed madly back and forth across the glass in a futile attempt to clear his view. The rain was still pouring down in sheets. Although dusk was still an hour away, darkness had fallen over the land, so effective were the dark clouds and heavy rain in obscuring the sun.

For over an hour he had done little more than guess where the road was. The surface was treacherous. It was not well maintained under normal conditions. And the driving rains had now turned it into a soupy and slippery path. Kamon had driven through three spots where the surrounding water had gone over the road. The last had very nearly swept his vehicle away. He could have been killed. But still he kept on, directing the rover, crawling up into the foothills of the Tysom mountain range. Kamon was stubborn. He had always been so. He would make it home -- today....provided that nature did not stop him.

He hated to stay in Positron, the capital city, during a council recess. He had a week off. He was determined to spend as much time as possible at his cabin home. It was the one place where he felt truly at peace.

There was a gust of wind driving sheets of rain onto his windshield. He eased off the accelerator. He could see nothing. The rover essentially came to a stop. The angry wind kept swirling and howling, threatening to lift his vehicle and toss it aside. The rain pounded on the glass, seeking entry.

He could wait here. The storm did not frighten him. He had spent many nights in the mountains during inclement weather.

After five minutes, the rain eased just a bit. He allowed the vehicle to begin crawling forward again. He could wait but he had no desire to do so. Something was wrong. It was only a feeling. He had no proof.

The people at the hoverport in Vexen -- they had treated him differently. He was easily recognized. The sole Councilman from the vast province of Sparrow Hawk. That and his huge frame -- he was simply hard to miss. No one had said anything specifically but he simply knew something was amiss.

He could be intimidating, he knew that. His usually somber face, his towering, powerful frame...few assumed he was easy to approach. He filled a room by simply walking into it, so commanding was his presence. Although he was an eloquent speaker, it was not his charm which had gained him a seat on the Marmot Council. He had promised change; he had promised confrontation, pledging to fight for the interests of the province of Sparrow Hawk. And the people had chosen him despite his sex, dramatically displaying their contrarian nature. Kamon stood as a symbol of the province of Sparrow Hawk. Fiercely independent, often at odds with neighbors -- fair characterizations of both himself and the province. The residents of Sparrow Hawk had made no friends in the Marmot state capital.

He had whisked out of the hoverport and had barely spoken a word to anyone. No one had even tried to gain his attention. Something was indeed amiss. He should have asked before leaving.

The rover continued to creep along.

The driving rain eased some more; the wind howled less fiercely. The sound of the wilderness was not quite right. Kamon rolled down the window a crack, listening intently.

He suddenly slammed his foot down on the brake. His vehicle slid a short distance on the gooey, slimy road before coming to a halt.

A roar. It was out of place. The rain had obscured his vision but he was not lost. The wind and the rain belonged; the roar did not.

Water moving. A great deal of water flowing....where it should not be.

He peered through the sheets of rain. He was very close to home. There should be a bridge across a normally dry gully. He waited. There was a flash of lighting. No structure was revealed. The bridge was gone. He flung open the door and stepped out. His boots sank deep into the muck and mire. In an instant, Kamon was drenched by the pouring rain. It did not bother him.

He stepped forward cautiously. Although he heard the raging water before him, in the darkness and rain, he could not see it well. It had taken the bridge. He had never seen the gully flood like this. He had never seen rain like this.

The land on which he stood might flood soon. He should seek high ground.

He was so close to home. It galled him that he might not make it.

A stray branch caught Kamon's eye. It was a quite substantial branch lying in the mud and water with leaves that were distinctive, both in their shade of green and their shape. He quickly stepped to the branch and raised it from the muck and mud, closely examining it. It was from a Minot tree........but none grew on this side of the gully. None ever had. None could. His eyes followed the branch. He saw the clean slice; then he felt it.

His trees had been cut! He was angry. Who had done this?!

Someone had been here! His powerful fingers closed around the branch. He squeezed mightily without realizing it as his anger soared. Who would dare to cut his Minot trees?!

He dropped the branch. The rain poured down upon him as he stood in the mud, staring across the swirling torrent of water that separated him from his land. He could not see to the other side. It was too dark; the rain was too heavy.

A part of him held out hope that the dark forms still rose proudly upward on the hill across the way. His beloved Minot trees must still be there. They must!

He stood motionless in the midst of the pouring rain, defying nature. Before him, brown, muddied water swept by, carrying debris with it. Kamon waited. A pause would eventually come. He would have an answer.

A jagged bolt of lightning suddenly creased the sky, illuminating the countryside. In that moment, Kamon's worst fears were confirmed. The hill across the way had been laid waste, littered only with stumps. The Minot trees were gone. Gullies of water cascaded down the steep hill on the opposite bank -- heavy, muddy water, taking the rich soil with it.

His land had been raped! Who would dare to do such a thing?! A fury roared through him.

A thunderous crack suddenly ripped the air, a deep explosion of sound that shook the very ground beneath him.

While nature raged around him, Kamon stood in utter disregard of her destructive force. He knew only his own anger. The wind, the rain, the flooded gully, the lightning -- none of these threatened him. His real enemy had already come and gone. People. People who inhabited this planet Arnot.

Once more, a bolt of lightning illuminated the ravaged slopes. Fists clenched tightly, he did not flee the storm nor was he moved by it. He stood motionless, unyielding in the face of the incredible forces of nature. Someone had touched his past. Someone had defiled that which he held most dear. There would be an accounting.

The loggers were undoubtedly gone. At the moment, there was no one to confront, no one to punish. From this standpoint, he had no compelling reason to cross the dangerous water.

But he could not leave here without exploring the full extent of the damage. A brief glimpse of the hill across the way had revealed the devastation there. But what about the land above, most especially, the area surrounding his cabin home?

His keen mind registered the fact that the flooded gully was quite impassable at the moment. Yet, he ignored the logic. His home had been desecrated. He must reach it, and he must reach it now. For him, there was no other choice.

Kamon dove into the rushing brown water. The powerful, surging current immediately seized him and swept him away. He came to the surface, swimming for the opposite shore as best he could. Progress was extremely difficult. Muddy water swirled into his eyes and snaked into his mouth. He coughed involuntarily as some of the liquid found its way into his lungs.

Some of his anger was momentarily forgotten. This, he knew, could very well turn into a fight for his life. Perhaps it already had. He must acknowledge this and deal with it.

He understood the awesome power of nature and had a deep respect for it. Only his anger had caused him to defy it on this occasion. It had not been a wise decision; he knew that. But his well-conditioned muscles and unusual agility had, in the past, always saved him from the perils of a rash act. That and his keen intellect. He had come to trust both, and neither had, thus far, been found wanting.

Although he continued coughing for a few seconds, his powerful arms did not stop. The raging current was not able to halt him. Determined, he propelled himself through the water.

Reaching the opposite bank was a difficult goal. The swift water was hurling him downstream. But his arms never stopped moving. His strokes were steady and regular, driven by an indomitable spirit.

At last, Kamon knew the bank was near. His eyes swept the shoreline racing past. One large hand suddenly shot from the water and snatched the first solid protrusion. A tree growing close to shore, some of its roots now exposed, was the object of his grasp. Though the bark was slippery and wet, he held on. Steel fingers tightened. His swift movement downstream was abruptly halted.

The giant muscles in Kamon's arm contracted, pulling him out of the water and onto the soft, slick grass lining the bank. He stood up in a swift, fluid motion, then set off at a run upstream, water squishing inside his boots.

Kamon soon found himself at the gravel road which wound its way up the steep hill to his home. He hesitated a second, then crossed the road. The road was the easier route, but the more direct and quickest path was straight up the hill...where the Minot trees had once stood.

It was a difficult ascension. He slipped often on the slick surface. He clawed to stay upright. His fingers were soon bleeding. His pants were torn at both knees.

He climbed furiously, passing the mute army of stumps along the way, all that was left of a once majestic stand of Minot trees. He felt as if a part of him had been destroyed. So much of his history was tied up in these trees -- his parents -- a mother that had died much too soon -- a father that had joined her in more recent years.

Kamon no longer had any living relatives. But he had his parents' land. They had left him with this legacy. And under one very tall and stately Minot tree near his cabin they were buried. If the trees around the cabin were gone......

The rain kept falling, not as heavily as before, but still it came down.

The lumber industry had long coveted his Minot trees. There were no more than a dozen stands like it on the entire planet. The wood produced by the Minot tree was prized by craftsmen. Its rich texture and durable nature made it the premier choice for building the finest furniture and sculpting the most exquisite works of art. Any item made from Minot wood brought an unconscionable amount of money. Kamon's stand of trees was virtually priceless.

To most, the trees meant money, and money meant power. But not to Kamon. They symbolized home, not priceless timber surrounding the wooden structure his parents had built and in which he now lived, but home. His place of sanctuary.

Attempts had been made to grow Minot trees in other soil. The results were always the same -- failure. The trees grew naturally in their native soil or not at all. And a sapling took one hundred Arnot years to reach full maturity. The proper soil and time, both were needed.

The Minot trees on Kamon's land had stood for countless centuries when Kamon's parents found them. They had been theirs and, upon their deaths, Kamon's.....until three months ago.

The Council had passed a bill designating all Minot trees in the nation-state of Marmot a scarce state resource. Kamon had objected. He was the only individual in the state with a substantial stand of Minot trees; the legislation was clearly directed at his land. In addition, the language of the bill was a bit ambiguous. At best, the trees still belonged to Kamon, though under the protection of the state. At worst, ownership of the trees had transferred to the state entirely. If true, Kamon argued, it was a technical confiscation of his property, illegal under Marmot state law without a fair hearing.

Kamon had chosen not to challenge the law. It was a strategic decision. He considered the trees to be still his. Let someone else argue otherwise. Then he would eagerly go to court. The State Lumber Association of Marmot had been behind the legislation, he was sure of it. This had been their foot in the door. Still he had remained confident. The advantage seemed to be his. And nothing had happened in three months......until now.

He had obviously miscalculated.....badly. He had never expected anything like this. Even under the worst possible scenario, transfer of ownership to the state, the trees were protected as a scarce state resource. No one could legally cut them. Was the lumber association so bold that it would openly defy the law? He'd make sure that someone ended up in jail over this! What had gone so wrong?!

Kamon was nearing the top of the hill. He dreaded to think what he might see. He was anxious and fearful. He topped the hill in a rush. "Thank Nome!" he sighed softly. The relief that swept over him was almost immeasurable.

He stood at the edge of a small clearing. Beyond was his cabin and, nearly encircling it, were trees. Minot trees! An abundance of Minot trees majestically soaring toward the sky!

Only the trees on the slope had been removed! Tragic, but during the past hour, Kamon had feared much worse.

For several long moments, Kamon stood in silence surveying the scene. The rain had finally slowed to a drizzle. All might have been lost, the landscape irreparably scarred by the loggers' saws. Yet, this place remained as he had left it -- serene, peaceful, undisturbed.

But they would return. And he must stop them. There were never enough Minot trees to satisfy women's lust for riches. But this time he would be ready. He did not need the power of the Council to enforce his decrees.

Kamon turned toward his cabin and broke into a run. In that instant, there came a blinding flash of light accompanied by an earsplitting crack. A Minot tree no more than fifteen feet in front of him exploded into smoke and light. A bolt of lightning, shooting from the sky, had at last found a grounding point, slicing through the tree.

Kamon's own large frame was suddenly rendered insignificant by the awesome power of nature. His body was flung violently backward through the air, seared by the millions of volts of electricity arcing through the air from the heavens. He landed heavily on his back, mud and water spraying up.

He lay quietly, on the brink of consciousness. His world was black. He was vaguely aware of pungent, acrid smoke entering his nostrils. But he could not see. He could not move.

He heard a sound, water and mud squishing, as if a foot had planted itself in the ground close to his ear. The sound of a figure stopping. A moment passed. Then he felt arms under him, his body being lifted upward. He was being carried. Consciousness faded --- if he had been cognizant at all................

A voice. How long he had been totally unconscious he did not know. Even now, Kamon had only come to the edge of awareness. Most of his senses still remained nonfunctional, including his sight. He could hear a voice. His fuzzy mind could not respond well enough to catalogue the voice pattern and inflections for future reference, should he ever hear it again. Indeed, he wasn't completely certain he was hearing it now.

The mind is a strange thing, sometimes producing thoughts at will, occasionally organized, often not. And when caught in a state of half consciousness, dream or reality? Who can know for sure? For Kamon, the question was especially pertinent at the moment.

From somewhere in the recesses of his mind came the thought that a woman was speaking. A pleasant, soothing voice. That was all his mind could manage ?? if it could even be relied on to correctly come up with that small bit of information.

"....He is my choice."

There was a response, not a voice, simply a response. He did not hear it, and thus could not understand its origin, but it was there nonetheless.

"He is a stranger in his own land, attempting to cope," the woman responded calmly.

Kamon's mind could not identify a gender for the voiceless participant in the conversation. And the responses seemed to come from nowhere in particular; they simply appeared in his consciousness, strange and unbelievable as that seemed.

"I understand that," she said obediently. "But he can learn. He is capable of great advancement. He is very intelligent and equally compassionate."

The woman's voice was light as she replied, as if she might be smiling. "Dreams are our business."

"Do I have your approval then?" the woman asked after a moment of silence.

"I do not."

"I am confident he will."

"He is very strong and durable," she countered. "He might have."

"I believe he has some semblance of consciousness now," she cautioned, changing the subject.

Whatever world Kamon had entered, he now left it. Thoughts ceased to flow through his mind. The universe might as well have ended, for he was no longer aware of its existence, or his own.

END OF CHAPTER