We don't get to pick the pivotal moments in our lives. One moment is normal, one moment is not.
Detting never thought that his life would have any moments worth remarking on, or being remembered.
He lived a simple life in the verdant farmlands of the Susap Valley and the days were sleepy and hard and long and full of the business of just living. Their little community was never on the brink of survival, the lands always provided, the rains always came, the dam always churned.
He had fallen in love with his wife at twelve and finally got her to marry him at twenty. He had four beautiful children and had never traveled further than the fifty miles to the county seat along the coast for the end of harvest festivals.
He hadn't wanted for much in his life, and neither had most of his neighbors.
There were of course the usual squabbles that happen with a small community with a lack of entertainment at times, but things generally stayed steady.
The world, or fate, or the gods, always seem to have their own plans though.
Maybe one of them gets board, or maybe the earth just changes, or maybe it's a pattern that just happens sometimes that is too long in length to be recorded.
When the rains came early, they all said it must be needed. They all had plenty of extra thatch, they brought in the few community outliers in from the wet. They all watched for the breaks in the clouds.
The rain however lingered.
Detting watched sacrifices made. He watched friends bring in others as streams burst their seems and homes started to wash away. He watched families that had lived in Susap Valley for generation pack and leave. He watched the Valley puddle and the dam his ancestors had built strain, and still the rains came.
Five days into the ruined harvest he had finally packed up his wife and two youngest children, laying charge on the second eldest to get them up to the high mountain caves while he trudged out with his eldest to the dam.
His wife had begged him to just come with them, but he'd simply shook his head and kissed her hard a last time and sent her on her way.
His eldest son stayed quiet and pale and terrified as they forded the water logged bridges that used to soar above the Tarce river as they crisscrossed their way down to the dam.
Detting stopped in ankle deep water at the end of the final bridge and turned back to the nearly grown young man behind him. "Son, I need someone to know. It was Hammel. When he left the Village last winter, he went to the great wandering stones, and he broke one. He told me in a drunken stupor before he succumbed to that wasting sickness and... I didn't tell anyone because we'd been friends since boys, and he had died and I thought that was probably punishment enough for him. I also... didn't believe so I didn't right things and I just kept blindly hoping the rain would stop."
His son's face looked even more terrified.
He took a breath, "I've had the same dream for the last fortnight. I know what I have to do."
His son shook his head. "I don't understand."
Detting dropped a heavy and soggy hand on his son's shoulder and then pulled him in to a hug. "Just come with me."
The boy followed, though more reluctantly and more terrified than before.
When they got to the top of the dam, Detting pulled out a long length of rope. His son watched as he started fastening it to the large supporting stones across the top, until he got three out to the middle and then secured it even better and then turned to the boy and waved him out to him. He saw his son swallow, but take hesitant steps through the nearly knee high water.
Detting held the rope in a fist that was trembling and he looked down at it and up at his son.
He looked over the side of the dam and down to the large pilon wedges down it's weeping side as the water was sloshing over.
He stood back from his lean, looking up at his son with regret. He took a heavy breath and his fist around the rope came out. "I need your best bowline knot. Keep a large loop."
His son swallowed, but reached out and did the knot as requested and then handed the loop back.
Detting smiled sadly now and dropped it over his own head and to the bulk he'd started to put on in his middle years. His son opened his mouth to protest but he shook his head.
"As soon as I'm over the side, you need to get to High bridge as fast as you can. It's the strongest and you'll be safe from the receding water there," He gave the rope a tug and tossed the middle excess over the side of the dam.
"Father, there has to be another way."
Detting just put his large hand around his sons head and pulled him to him, kissing his forehead. "There isn't."
He took a breath and took a half step back in the sloshing and churring water. "Now. Hand me the hammer!"
Detting never thought that his life would have any moments worth remarking on, or being remembered.
He lived a simple life in the verdant farmlands of the Susap Valley and the days were sleepy and hard and long and full of the business of just living. Their little community was never on the brink of survival, the lands always provided, the rains always came, the dam always churned.
He had fallen in love with his wife at twelve and finally got her to marry him at twenty. He had four beautiful children and had never traveled further than the fifty miles to the county seat along the coast for the end of harvest festivals.
He hadn't wanted for much in his life, and neither had most of his neighbors.
There were of course the usual squabbles that happen with a small community with a lack of entertainment at times, but things generally stayed steady.
The world, or fate, or the gods, always seem to have their own plans though.
Maybe one of them gets board, or maybe the earth just changes, or maybe it's a pattern that just happens sometimes that is too long in length to be recorded.
When the rains came early, they all said it must be needed. They all had plenty of extra thatch, they brought in the few community outliers in from the wet. They all watched for the breaks in the clouds.
The rain however lingered.
Detting watched sacrifices made. He watched friends bring in others as streams burst their seems and homes started to wash away. He watched families that had lived in Susap Valley for generation pack and leave. He watched the Valley puddle and the dam his ancestors had built strain, and still the rains came.
Five days into the ruined harvest he had finally packed up his wife and two youngest children, laying charge on the second eldest to get them up to the high mountain caves while he trudged out with his eldest to the dam.
His wife had begged him to just come with them, but he'd simply shook his head and kissed her hard a last time and sent her on her way.
His eldest son stayed quiet and pale and terrified as they forded the water logged bridges that used to soar above the Tarce river as they crisscrossed their way down to the dam.
Detting stopped in ankle deep water at the end of the final bridge and turned back to the nearly grown young man behind him. "Son, I need someone to know. It was Hammel. When he left the Village last winter, he went to the great wandering stones, and he broke one. He told me in a drunken stupor before he succumbed to that wasting sickness and... I didn't tell anyone because we'd been friends since boys, and he had died and I thought that was probably punishment enough for him. I also... didn't believe so I didn't right things and I just kept blindly hoping the rain would stop."
His son's face looked even more terrified.
He took a breath, "I've had the same dream for the last fortnight. I know what I have to do."
His son shook his head. "I don't understand."
Detting dropped a heavy and soggy hand on his son's shoulder and then pulled him in to a hug. "Just come with me."
The boy followed, though more reluctantly and more terrified than before.
When they got to the top of the dam, Detting pulled out a long length of rope. His son watched as he started fastening it to the large supporting stones across the top, until he got three out to the middle and then secured it even better and then turned to the boy and waved him out to him. He saw his son swallow, but take hesitant steps through the nearly knee high water.
Detting held the rope in a fist that was trembling and he looked down at it and up at his son.
He looked over the side of the dam and down to the large pilon wedges down it's weeping side as the water was sloshing over.
He stood back from his lean, looking up at his son with regret. He took a heavy breath and his fist around the rope came out. "I need your best bowline knot. Keep a large loop."
His son swallowed, but reached out and did the knot as requested and then handed the loop back.
Detting smiled sadly now and dropped it over his own head and to the bulk he'd started to put on in his middle years. His son opened his mouth to protest but he shook his head.
"As soon as I'm over the side, you need to get to High bridge as fast as you can. It's the strongest and you'll be safe from the receding water there," He gave the rope a tug and tossed the middle excess over the side of the dam.
"Father, there has to be another way."
Detting just put his large hand around his sons head and pulled him to him, kissing his forehead. "There isn't."
He took a breath and took a half step back in the sloshing and churring water. "Now. Hand me the hammer!"
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