(c) Nin Harris 1998-2007

Ackbroll Speaks:

I look at him wordlessly. His words slam into me, like the nagging thought that has been in my head since I woke up this morning with a granddaddy of a hangover. I entered this realm expecting to find nirvana, a release from the complexities of day-to-day existence back on earth. I sometimes think my desires brought me here. My desire to escape the ugliness, the ultimate betrayal that is the human existence. Zelgar knows me well, mostly because we have both served in somewhat similar capacities- he as an advisor to a king, and I, well, you could call me a kingmaker, a John of Gaunt, or a Benjamin Disraeli of my times. My brilliant strategies, my excellent PR , my ability to see and compute both sides of each equation flawlessly, led me to plotting the campaign of those I believed fought for the same ideals as I, who would make our nation a safe, balanced place for all. Not so, I learned too late, for I was embroiled too deep to find the way out. And so year after year passed as I dug myself in deeper, spinning out a role that began to mean more than the ideals that had placed me within that situation to begin with. I had set in place a tyranny worse than the one we had deposed. My skill, my intellect, my “foresight” resulted in the mess I had left behind.

And one day, you wake up to find that a decade or so has passed by, you’re older than you would like to be, and you don’t like the eyes that stare at you from the mirror. And the excuses you have been making for what you’ve been supporting, and the people whom you’ve been supporting won’t wash anymore. That is what happened to me.

I resigned in a flurry of protests and conspiracy theories, without a clear idea of what I would like to do next. I had some confused idea of letting the public know the error of my ways, apologizing for the way things had turned out. For the misuse of public funds, for the human rights abuses and omissions, for the millions of tiny, everyday things that I had been bearing the burden, and the guilt for. I don’t know what I would have eventually done, had word not come that they were after me. Do you know that choosing to not participate in something can also amount to treason and betrayal in the eyes and the minds of the fearful? I knew that if they captured me, the truth would never be heard. And so, I retreated into the woods- and plotted a campaign, one Machiavellian in its brilliance. It would have worked too- for I knew a candidate that the people loved, and I knew his platform would win public approval. Besides, not many are as good as me in what I do best.

But then, I met Him – the antlered one, Cernunnos, or Herne, as you may know him. Deeper, and deeper into the woods, by moonlight, my feet brought me, as my mind worked on stratagems and possible outlets for funding. So deep before I realized that the forest I had entered could not possibly have been as vast as the one I had all un-knowingly ventured deeper, yet deeper into. And why was everything sparkling and glistening as though illuminated from within? Why was there music, such chilling, arousing music, in the air?

I wish I could describe my encounter with him in great detail, but every time I try to recollect, everything seems to slip and slide then fade in my head, kind of like working with negatives in a darkroom. You think you’ve almost gotten the picture that is emerging in the solution but someone turns on a light and it all disappears. That’s the way it was. I can barely remember the impression of him and the creatures that thronged around him, dark, outlined in light. His mossy feet, and a glimpse of shaggy thigh. I remember the vines and leaves woven in between his antlers, and his eyes, deep and liquid yet glistening. But that is all.

You will not do this thing you are planning

His voice, or rather, the earthy, loamy authority of his thought, slammed into my mind. I shook and sank to my knees in fear and a paroxysm close to ecstasy. Deep within me, deeper than the terror and worship I felt in equal proportions, I wondered “Why not?” and he answered that thought.

You have meddled enough with the fate of your people. That was indulged. But no more, shall be allowed

How could he say that, when all I wanted to do was to set things right? Despair was what I felt at that point.

Son of mine, you cannot set this right. It is for someone else to do so

“It is my responsibility!”

Vanity! sizzled through my veins.

And then he sent me here, to be a co-protector of the woods. He told me to look for that which I would never find, if I did not change. And then, he taught me things that I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you, and bade me learn so the change would come. And I have been changed, haven’t I?

Zelgar looks at me now, and I look at him. Insight, that fey bedside companion who is never constant, slips into the air I breathe in, illuminating my thoughts. A role, I had thought earlier, a role like the one I had played in my political life. Above and beyond the call of duty. Above, yet beneath the person that I am. I’ve slipped into one charade after another, because my vanity, or ego, deemed me “responsible” for the people of my nation, for the inhabitants of this forest, who probably have more tricks at their disposal than I have. I’ve set myself up on a non-existent throne. No wonder the Wild Maiden avoids me. I’ve failed terribly, haven’t I?

Not really, son of mine

His voice courses through me, deep and chocolate-y liquid, and I shiver. His inhuman eyes, stare at me out of Zelgar’s perpetually befuddled expression.

You’re not quite there, but you will be. Your real reason for being here, will come to you, in time. You will learn, more. In time. Patience.

And just like that, his Essence slips away from Zelgar, who continues talking as though nothing had happened. I suspect that for him, nothing has happened. But for me, well, I guess Ackbroll of the Silver Spear is going to undergo a change of some sort. Not much, mind you – I’m awfully fond of this persona. And I’ve a date with a certain Blue Faerie, tonight. Maybe tomorrow, then. We’ll see.