*
Logan paddled in sullen disquiet, feeling like cursing the very day that he had been brought into the world. Everything seemed like a mammoth mudslide to him, a slow, continual descent into a murky abyss that was neither warranted nor preventable.
Certainly, none of it involved a course that had been chosen by him, but then again, that was precisely what angered him the most. The sole missing factor in feeling like he truly had even a small degree of free will was the lack of power to make a different choice in the course that was taken.
Throughout the lands he now found himself within, there were several thousands of displaced people, all suffering a heart-wrenching exodus from their homelands. At an even farther distance, there was a dark and ambiguous threat manifesting, as an enemy force encroached upon the tribal lands. Going even farther, there was an entire world that was not all too different from the decaying one that he had once lived in.
There was simply no presence of justice, or even sanity, not when the simplest of observations was faced truthfully. The darker forces of the world held the truest advantages, in all of their forms. Their ends would always justify the means. No matter how brutal, no matter how deceitful, one who disregarded the constraints of virtues could act in any capacity to achieve a desired means.
The forces attacking the villagers were undeniable proof of that reality. Such proofs were everywhere, Logan knew, if one was willing to open his or her eyes, and see what was there for all eyes to see.
The lying merchant could smoothly gain the sale that the honest merchant could not attain. The deceptive craftsman could hide a blemish or weakness in structure, where the honest one could not. An errant laborer could twist his way out of failing a task, where the honest would willingly face consequences, with their full weight of penalty.
An invading army, without the burden of virtues, could readily annihilate their enemy, destroying civilian and warrior alike. A truly honor-bound people would be above employing widely destructive and indiscriminate tactics, and in adhering to such ways could well suffer a comprehensive defeat in the long run.
The list of examples was practically endless, demonstrating the enormous advantages that the amoral or immoral person held over the one who embraced a moral code. It was a drink most bitter to the tongue, and maddening to the mind.
In the middle of a substantial river, within a sprawling forest, in the midst of a vast new world, Logan felt himself to be little more than a speck of foreign dust on the strange planet.
He could see Erika and Janus talking together in one of the canoes just behind him. It was true that the two of them shared his unfamiliarity with the new world, as well as his familiarity with their world of origin. It was a very basic bond among the exiles, but it was one that Logan valued nonetheless.
Janus was of the silent, more contemplative type, and Logan keenly sensed that the man was wrestling with a tremendous internal struggle. Erika was undeniably an attractive woman, with a real flare of life to her. Depending on the day, it was either an irritation or enjoyable, as she was not shy about saying whatever was on her mind.
Logan was conscious of his genuine friendship with Antonio, and he was grateful that he had someone with him from his former world that he knew well.
He was also aware of the fact that Ayenwatha and his tribal people were going to great lengths to care for the small band of outsiders. The tribal people were under a tremendous burden, and still they strove to protect and guide Logan and his companions.
Yet ultimately, despite the various bonds, Logan felt quite powerless and alone. It was a weighty and forlorn emotion that threatened to douse the fires of his spirit, rendering him dead to the world. Even so, the same fires within him could not be so easily soaked, and he burned fiercely to find some possible way to seize a degree of control over the course of things.
He chanced a glance back towards Ayenwatha. The tribal leader was focused on his paddling efforts, and paid Logan no heed. The noble warrior’s muscle and sinew worked in a flowing harmony, a striking example of symmetry and motion. Each instant, the tribal warrior looked like a skilled artist’s sculpture, as he worked the oar with a strong posture rife with rippling striations of musculature.
Logan knew that Ayenwatha was one of the most respected and greatest warriors of his village and tribe. He was a living example of the highest values that the tribe embraced, a man disciplined in the ways of nature and of the spirit.
Even so, Ayenwatha still had been set to desperate flight, along with all of his people.
Logan turned his eyes back to the front. A determination gripped him, as he promised himself that one day he would find his way into a position where he could not easily be put to flight, or made helpless.
One day, he would make his own determinations, and not be vulnerable to the reasonless, fickle whims of fate.
*