A Thousand Heartbeats

“Don’t dawdle,” I commanded, leading the group of young recruits up the shallow incline, intentionally avoiding the area where I’d taken down the deserters only this morning.

The wind kicked up off the ocean, rustling the patches of grass and forcing me to yell in order to be heard. That was fine. People were used to me yelling.

“Gather here,” I instructed to the dozen or so soldiers now crowding the top of the hill.

“Let’s say you’re out on a mission, and you get separated from the group. You get lost in that forest or you misplace your compass. What do you do?” I asked. I received a tense silence in return. “No one?”

They just stood there, arms crossed over their chests, shivering.

“Very well. If you’re traveling by day, it’s easy enough. The sun travels from east to west.” I looked on the ground, finding what I needed almost instantly. “Take a stick, about two or three feet long, and post it upright into the ground.” I shoved the stick in, making a short pole. “When the sun rises, or as soon as you can take note, place a rock at the end of the stick’s shadow.” I put a rock down at an imaginary shadow. “Then wait fifteen minutes or so. The sun will have moved, and so will the stick’s shadow. Place a second rock at the end of the new shadow.” I placed a second rock on the ground. “The imaginary line between these two rocks is the east-west line. If you head east and veer north, you will eventually run into the castle. Or the ocean. One would hope you’re smart enough to tell the difference.”

Nothing. Well, at least I thought I was funny.

“Traveling at night is a different game altogether. Because of that, you will need to learn to navigate via the stars.”

There was a lot of weight shifting and more huddling. Why didn’t anyone understand how important this was? There was a kingdom waiting on the other side of this. And all people cared about was the cold.

“Look up. Do you see those four stars that make a small irregular square?” More silence. “Anyone?”

“Yes,” someone finally answered.

“Do all of you see it? If you don’t, you need to tell me now. I can’t teach you if you’re already lost.” Silence. “Very well. That’s Ursa Major. If you trace the line of those last two stars, you should find the brightest star in the sky: Polaris. Does everyone see that?”

There were hesitant murmurs among my students.

“Polaris is almost perfectly set at true north. It doesn’t move in the sky, but the other stars circle around it. If you look directly above us and focus on that spot, and then trace that to Polaris again, it will point you north. You should always be able to find the castle if you keep heading north.”

I looked around to see if anyone understood. It all felt rather obvious to me, but I’d been studying the sky since before I could read—back when there were things around to be read. No one asked any questions, so I moved on.

“Another option is to pick up two sticks, then choose a bright star in the sky and line up the sticks about a meter apart just beneath your star. Then, as with the sun, you wait twenty minutes for the stars to move. If the star rises directly above your posts, you’re facing east, but if it sinks behind them, you’re facing west. If the star moves to the right, you’re facing south, and to the left, you’re facing north. Do not get those directions mixed up, or you will get hopelessly lost.

“Over the next few nights, your task is to come out here and practice, even if it’s cloudy. Within the month, you should have this mastered.

“Now, look at me,” I ordered, quickly gaining the attention of each soldier. “I’ve explained to you how to find your way in and out of here by the sky. But let me make myself clear.” I took my time, making eye contact with each of them. “If you use these skills to try to run, you will come up against me. And if you do, you will regret it.”

Some brave soul muttered, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

When the last of their shadows disappeared over the crest of the hill, I let out a breath and lay down in the grass, looking up.

Sometimes, even in my room, the castle was too loud. Echoing footsteps, asinine arguments, and unnecessary laughter. But out here . . . out here, I could think.

I started at the rustling beside me, settling only when I realized Thistle had found me.

“Ah. Out hunting? Get anything good?”

I tried to scratch her head, but she was already on the move again, so I turned my eyes back to the sky.

There was beauty there, a haunting reminder of how small we were. Father used to show me all the shapes, tell me about the characters and stories that were tied to the lines in the stars. I didn’t know how much of it to take seriously, but now I liked to think that somewhere else, another father was telling his son the same stories, and that boy was thinking about the possibility in his life, and that he could be the kind of person who people turned into a legend, the kind of person people carved into the stars.

That poor boy. One day the illusion would be shattered. But I hoped he had it still, if only for a night.