Flash Fiction: Unworthy
Even good intentions may not be enough.
The tired eyed steel-and-leather clad warrior handed the gray-haired priest the leaves he’d just crushed in his bare hand then asked his question. “Why does the Goddess of the Wood consider me unworthy? I’ve always held to the code of honor.”
After a long pause, the old man stroked his own dirty gray-streaked beard then said, “I do not doubt you, nor your honor.” Then taking the leaves from him he went on, “You can be completely honorable and still not worthy of acceptance into the order of the goddess. Honorable is not the trait she is looking for in those she will give her blessing to.” Then he dumped the leaves the warrior had given him into his cup and added the boiling water from the low fire at their feet. Holding it up to the great oak, he said. “If it is your will, allow me to see through time and understand why you will not accept this man.”
The warrior’s eyes went wide as the wood-priest downed the still scalding tea.
The old man’s eyes went black, his voice became hollow. “I can see you out in the woods. You are much younger and a fawn about to be taken by a cougar crossing your path. You spoiled its hunt just because you didn’t want to see the fawn eaten.”
“That’s it?” the warrior said in perplexion.
The old man shook his head, his eyes cleared to their normal green, and his voice was no longer hollow when he said, “What do you think that cougar did after missing that meal?”
“Hunted something else, I guess,” he said with a shrug.
“A human took its food. It went and got a farmer’s pig to replace it and feed its cubs. Not only did that farmer’s kids have less to eat that winter, he hunted down and killed the cougar a fortnight later. Days later, starved bone thin cubs came out of their den and were eaten by buzzards. It was months before a large enough predator moved in, and it that time nature was out of balance.”
“I didn’t know,” the warrior said not liking where this was heading.
But the old man wasn’t done. “And the young fawn, what do you believe happened?”
“It joined its mother and herd, of course,” he replied.
The old mans tone was filled with pity. “She raided many, many, fields of many farmers for four years, forcing them to work harder to keep their families fed. It was fat and well fed when a wolf pack finally ended its life.”
“And for what these animals did, I am to be considered unworthy to serve?” The large warrior said in outrage.
The old man shook his head, “It is not for what they did. You acted without ever considering what the effect would be, or even gave it a second thought. It wasn’t the only time, just the one the goddess showed me. The goddess’ power is great. Your actions do not have to be right or honorable, by civilized standards, to wield it, but they must be thought out. She showed me this one just as an example. You may still serve her, as a guard and aid to her priest, but you cannot have her power.”
The large man’s voice rose, and he placed his hand on his sword. “I am a warrior of the first order, not some simple guardsman or servant!”
The old man’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “There in is the rest of your answer. Only her servants get her power, and you are no servant.”
Just then, a breeze blew leaves, dust, and smoke in the warrior’s face. When he stopped blinking. The priest, his fire, and the great oak they had been under were gone.