over the news. Kartan had been traveling back from battles in the east, clearing the way for the pending Millennium Journey, when the party was ambushed, leaving only a messenger alive to bring the news of the massacre.
There was little chance the invaders would come to the Island as the long bridge was the only way in or out, and rats hate the water. Not because it's wet, but because of what dwells there, and how much it adores the taste of rat.
The entire family had lost their appetites, and Argyle's father looked up at him as he entered the room, then turned and went out the front door, slamming it with anger, sadness, and disdain. His growls could be heard for miles around the Island. Argyle's mother sat in a lump on the floor in front of the table, sobbing uncontrollably. Unable to speak, she looked up at Argyle and reached for his paw to help her up. He did so, taking his mother to him and consoling her weakened heart.
Not understanding his conflicting emotions of sadness and relief, Argyle was flushed with guilt. Of course, he was saddened by this news. How awful to lose a sibling. Even more so, for his parents to lose one of their litter. But deep inside, Argyle felt a bit of relief from the news. He was no longer the younger one shadowed by the older’s accomplishments and goals. He was no longer the caretaker of the Chosen One, always doing the bidding in preparation for his brother's pending journey to save the world. It was off his back, for this moment. But something was coming that Argyle could not have imagined at the introverted moment of conflicted glee.
As evening fell, the funeral pyres lit the night sky along the water's edge. The ceremony was somber. A sense of hopelessness was palpable within the crowd. Argyle knew his mother and father were sad, angry, devastated by the loss of their oldest son. And what a son he had been. Argyle had long ago come to terms with the accomplishments of his brother, but it was how Kartan had treated him that was less than noble. Ego does strange things to some. The drums and chanting suddenly stopped, as if sound had been snuffed from the universe all together. The silence was louder than the drums had been. The high priest rose to his feet, well above the group, and gave his sermon. The quiver of his voice made Argyle uneasy. It was as though he knew something the rest did not. There was a hopelessness, a dread in his voice of something coming that could not be stopped.
Argyle did not sleep well that night. His dreams were more intense than ever. Visions of hideous rats and other creatures unknown to him in the dark woods, chasing him to kill him and others running. He awoke howling in terror, awakening to his mother and father at his bedside. Confused and deranged from sleep, he asked, "Did I wake you? I am sorry if I did. It was my night visions again."
"No", his father said. "You did not wake us. We have come to talk to you about something."
Argyle knew the tone of his father's voice meant he was serious. This alarmed Argyle, and he sat up in bed more alert now. "What is it, Father?" he asked. Looking to his mother, he said, "Mother?"
"Argyle, you know Kartan was our first born..."
"Yes, of course," he interrupted.
She continued, "...but with that came great responsibility. A task had been bestowed upon him that he embraced and bravely accepted. Now that he is gone, it jeopardizes our way of life, as we have no one from our corner of the world to send to the Tower for this millennium."
His father said, "Son, what we are trying to say is that you are now our oldest son. This means the task has come to you. It is your destiny. And according to the ways of the Universe, it always has been." He stared desperately into Argyle's eyes trying to impress upon him the importance of these words. Argyle sank into his thoughts. The years of disdain for Kartan being "the Chosen One," all coming to the surface, when now, it seems, his disdain was actually for himself. The Universe has a way of twisting and turning beyond imagination at times, but this was overwhelming him.
Argyle looked at his parents. "I can't be the Chosen One," he said. "I've never wanted to be a hero, or save the world. I've just wanted to be left alone. Respected. Maybe have a liter of my own one day. A simple dog. All of the things that Kartan enjoyed as a way of life, now come crashing on my feet at his demise? The shadow of my brother has not been a warm place to be in this life, and now the world has come to me to save it?" he said. "And now, not only do I have to pick up my pieces and move forward in his wake, I am being asked to pick up his life and live it as well? What is this fortune? This hell? My brother is dead, and now my life has to be exchanged so that I can live his!?" Argyle was now standing in the middle of his room. His parents still sat on the bed.
"Argyle," his mother began as she put her paw onto his, "this is not what our intentions have been, and if you have been shadowed by your brother's life, then that is our error. Your father and I are deeply sorry for our blindness to your pain. We did not realize you had these deep, hidden feelings. Both of your lives are important to us. You are different from one another. Each unique in your own ways, with separate gifts to give the world and to share."
"Son," Argyle's father cut in, "you are a part of a lineage of noble creatures that have dedicated their lives to keeping our way of life and the power of good in this world. There is no greater task, and no more noble existence than to be chosen from our corner of the world to help bring in another millennium of good to the Universe. I cannot make you go, but you must consider your destiny carefully. You are not chosen because of your brother's death. You are chosen because you have been the Chosen One all along. Not knowing the truth until now is our misfortune."
Argyle's parents began to leave his room, then his mother turned to him and said, "Please forgive us, Argyle, for not knowing this before now. It is our fault that you now have this burden upon you."
Argyle sat on his bed with his head in his paws, and his mind spinning with confusion. The sun was making its way above the horizon line of the vast ocean. He heard a commotion outside his window, down near the street, and he went to the window to hear more clearly. He heard two passersby conversing on the path. “Without Kartan, the next millennium will surely be our last,” said one stranger to the other.
“You may be right, but there's still much time before those rats come all the way out here,” said the other. Argyle stared out to the water—the dolphins jumping in the surf, the pelicans swooping close to the water's surface. How he loved to watch them along the shore.
#
Argyle’s parents were seated at a rustic, hand-carved, wooden table. Celtic knots embraced the legs and made their way across the top of the table, eventually making up the tree of life emblem on the top of its round surface; warm fresh sweet bread sat in the middle of the table for breakfast. They continued to talk.
"Argyle must realize he is now an adult, and the Universe has brought a great gift to him! A responsibility to his people!" said his father.
"But, Furgal, this is not a normal situation," Kirwyn said. "He has lost his brother; we have lost a son! Nothing about this has been expected, and it hardly resembles a gift! Time will give him the answers he needs to find himself. If I know anything at all about Argyle, he will find his way, but he will do it on his own, in his own way. We will let him embrace his destiny, however he sees fit."
The morning finally broke the restless night with the rising of the sun. The colors of the sky were exceptionally brilliant and contained every color of the rainbow. Sparse clouds drifted to the east across the sky as if gently pulled along on a string. Argyle awoke, briefly forgetting everything that had happened the day before and the night visions. But that was short-lived. He sank in his bed for a moment, then decided to brush it all off, and get out for a bit of morning air. He was wise enough to know that the outdoors would do his mind some good, and the morning was perfectly welcoming him to a walk in the crisp air.
He walked a familiar path along the shore, listening for dolphins calling. His eyes scanned the incoming waves for the glimpse of a dorsal or two. Nothing today. Maybe they were off hunting this morning, and an evening walk would find them on this side of the Island. No matter. The pelicans skimmed the tops of the waves just the same, giving Argyle all the visually relaxing imagery he needed for the moment. Suddenly, a faint call from the distance behind him got his attention. It was his friend, Jordan. A short, but slim figure, looking somewhat malnourished. Although he was well-nourished indeed,