PARALLEL: PART TWO
By Christopher Kneipp
Published by Christopher Kneipp
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Christopher Kneipp
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedication
For Andrew and Anthony
Who inspire me daily to be all that I can be.
Prologue
The Blue Gum Forest had fallen silent, after the thunderclap that accompanied the escape of their quarry.
Tyrren’s ire was written across his scarred face. A trail of blood drew a red line from his remaining eye, like a crimson tear rolling down his right cheek to the corner of his mouth. For a time his bloody sneer twisted the corded scars that his Parallel had given him. In his hand he held the blue Sea Stone, its glow now faded to nothing.
“Damin, take Fynz and find if there’s anyone left on this planet that’s important to him,” he snarled, dropping the aquamarine into Damin’s hand.
“Grae take Stew, Red and Folly and stay here. Tell me immediately if anything happens.
“Everyone else come with me.”
He turned and vanished without another word. The remaining followers began pairing off, those who could teleport transporting those who could not, joining their master in the ether.
“Bloody camping trip while everyone else gets to go and do stuff,” Grae complained.
“Just do what you’re told, Graeme,” Damin smirked as he held onto Fynz. “Let’s go Fi.”
Fiona blew Grae a kiss and vanished, taking Damin with her.
Hidden on the north coast were Mark’s parents, Kathy and Peter. They had no idea what was coming.
* * * * *
Chapter One: Between.
Mark fell forward, the light swallowing him whole and then there was nothing. No sun or stars, no ground or sky and no sign of Angelie or Matthew. The pack on his back felt weightless and in his hand he still clutched the quarter staff that Matthew had given him. Beyond these things was a vast and endless emptiness.
There was a sense of movement, not like falling exactly, but the feeling of motion just the same.
As bizarre as the Between was, Mark could only think about his friends.
“Matt?” he called into the void, but there was no reply, only silence. Not even an echo. “Angelie?”
Time had no relevance as the limitless fall continued. Without anything as a reference, it seemed to be eternal. Where was Matthew? Was he lost in the endlessness, alone like himself?
“Matt,” he called again, straining to hear some sort of reply. There was nothing as the free fall continued.
Then he heard something. A distant sound, like the mumbling of a crowd, though the Between still appeared to be empty.
“Hello? Matt? Angelie?” he called. “Garodine?”
The Between fell silent once more.
“Is anyone there?” he shouted.
Initially, Mark thought he was seeing things, but soon it became apparent that a multitude of glowing wisps were appearing from out of the emptiness around him.
Most kept their distance but one came close to him, like a curious child.
“What's it?”
Mark heard the voice in his mind, unsure of what it meant.
“Please I won’t hurt you,” he pleaded out loud. “I just need to talk to you.”
“Ooh,” one of the misty creatures commented. “It speaks like a, live thing. We talk too, yes?”
“No. Bad thing. May not friendly,” another wisp objected.
“Friendly sounds it. I talk too.” The first cloud said and ignoring the second’s fear it began changing, taking on a semi-human form. It looked more like a ghost than a person, while the other luminescent wisps kept their formless appearance and their distance, fearful of this intruder in their netherworld.
“What if eater? Will eat up you,” the second creature warned.
“You mind-broke. It no eater. Too hard. Too here.” Then the ghostly figure addressed Mark, asking, “Want what you, live thing?”
“Who are you?” Mark asked.
“We are Corronell,” the apparition replied. “What are you?
“I'm a human. My name's Mark, but they call me Rane Fax,” Mark answered, guessing these things were probably more of Quell than of Earth.
“Ahh! You the Hope of Worlds. Heard about you, have we. You peace bringer to every all thing. Yes. Why you now here in the no-place? You take eaters away now?”
“What's an eater,” Mark asked.
“Eater is nothing maker. Corronell consumer. You take away, forever and long time. Foreverman tell us you coming.”
“Yeah well, there are a lot of things I'm supposed to do, but right now, I need your help with something.”
“What Corronell can do for you, live thing?”
“There are two other people who came into the Between with me. They're friends of mine,” Mark began.
“Ooh, yes. They them are here. Dielf and other like you, live thing.”
Mark's heart leapt at the news, “Are they alright?”
“Elfish one is gone out way now, she knows out way. Other live thing going no-place. He don’t know where he going.”
“Can you help him to find the way out, please?” Mark pleaded.
“He already long lost. Maybe he stay here with Corronell and Foreverman.”
Without warning the mood of the moment changed.
“Eaters!” came the sudden cry. At the utterance of that name the clouds scattered every which way in panic. A single combined scream filled Mark's mind with the Corronell’s pain and confusion.
Mark gripped the quarter staff tightly in his shaking hands, awaiting the arrival of this unknown threat. After a moment he saw it emerging from the void, rising up from below him. The sight revolted him. The eater was a formless, sickly green light that oozed like mucus, spreading itself flat, surrounding one of the Corronell and enveloping it completely.
The terror of the eater's victim, its mental scream, assaulted Mark’s mind before the powerful wave of its emotions crashed over him, leaving only emptiness where that Corronell had been.
A second eater arrived, and then a third as the Corronell franticly tried to avoid the green monsters. Still more eaters arrived, melding with each other until the Between seemed filled with the putrid green mass.
Mark felt the familiar rage rise within him, as the Corronell's desperation filled his senses. As had happened before, an unbearable pressure grew in his head, threatening to tear him apart from within. The ring on his finger burned in sympathy with his uncontrolled emotions and his vision began to blur.
“Rane Fax, help them,” Mark thought, fighting against the growing pressure, but there was no response.
Ignoring the pain he gathered all of his fury and focused on the vile creatures. The taste of blood filled his mouth, confirming the cost that his Elae’s were exacting from him. There was a bright flash that exploded over the nearest of the eaters, engulfing its amorphous body in white hot flame.
A second eater burned brightly as the first had done, the fire destroying it utterly.
The pressure had gone and Mark felt himself beginning to black out.
A third eater attacked, enveloping Mark's body. Even in his half-conscious state he could feel the malevolent creature draining the life and strength from him. Suddenly he felt a surge of power and the eater was destroyed, blasted into nothing by that force. The power felt different, like it had not come from him.
Mark saw the remaining eaters fleeing, though he could no longer distinguish what was real as the damage took hold. He could taste the blood that filled his mouth, felt it trickling from his nose, eyes and ears but it was like a dream. All reality was stripped away.
“Hold on, Mark,” Rane Fax whispered weakly. “You must be conscious to pass through Jarod's Door and I am spent.”
Through blurring vision, Mark saw the Corronell returning, surrounding him one by one. Warmth flowed through his shattered body and he smiled at the beauty of the dream as the lights embraced him.
“Hope is broke,” the first Corronell said. “No fear you need. Corronell take you home.”
There was something, Mark thought, something important. Something he should remember but all he wanted to do was to slip into the arms of unconsciousness.
Then he thought he heard Rane Fax whisper one final word, “Matthew.”
“My friend,” Mark groaned, barely able to force the words from his bloodied lips. “Save him.”
“He go out other where. He be safe. Corronell do for you friend. You show eaters first ever knowing of fear. We never forget.”
Mark, his sight failing and his thoughts barely coherent, could not tell if it was moments or hours that passed before he felt something solid take shape beneath his feet.
“Welcome, Rane Fax, Worlds' Hope. Welcome home,” a woman’s voice greeted him.
The need to retain his senses was now gone and he allowed his injuries to overwhelm him. He felt himself falling forwards, many hands catching him.
“Mark!” he heard Angelie scream.
His last thought was, “She called me Mark.”
* * * * *
“Drink this.” The woman's voice was kind, as something was held to Mark's lips. Warm liquid was drizzled slowly into his mouth, the flavour was sweet at first, and then spicy, like ginger. He swallowed the draught, feeling its warmth flow through his body and out to his extremities.
Cautiously, Mark opened his eyes and raised himself up on his elbows. Surveying his surroundings he saw that he was in a room, the fire burning in the hearth and a flickering candle were the only sources of light. There was little in the way of furniture, a table, three wooden chairs and the bed that he was lying in.
Before him sat a woman who looked about ten years younger than his mother, with olive complexion and dark eyes. Her long, thick hair shone in the firelight, dark brown with copper-red highlights.
“Let me guess. You'd be Eitsrik, right,” he smiled weakly, his voice full of gravel.
“Yes, I am she.” The woman smiled, bowing her head slightly in acknowledgement. “I see that Angelie has spoken of me.”
“Yeah, a little bit. She called you Mahtia Ghia, Mother of Healing. Guess that means I made it out of the Between alive.”
“Yes, but you will need to rest a while longer. You are still weakened by the journey.”
“How long have I been out to it?” Mark croaked.
“You have been in my care since your arrival at the zenith. It is mid-dark.”
“What about the others? Are they okay?”
“Angelie is well, though she has been greatly concerned about you. Had I not sent her to rest, she would be here still.” Eitsrik paused for a moment before adding “I must tell you however that Jarod's Door has been closed and your friend did not emerge. I am sorry, Rane Fax.”
“Could he have come out somewhere else?” Mark asked hopefully. “The Corronell said they’d help him.”
“That, I am afraid, is unlikely,” Eitsrik said with a note of finality. “Even with the help of the Lights, without an Elae, he is lost to us.”
Despite her insistence, Mark did not believe it but he said nothing.
“Now you must rest and regain your strength. You have faced great peril to come here and I fear that more is to come. The Corowine that I gave you will heal your spirit as well as your body. It will make things clearer and prevent sorrow from overwhelming you. You must sleep now and allow it to do its work.”
“No, seriously, I'm okay.” Mark struggled to sit up, but the room seemed to spin and he was forced to lie back down.
“Sleep,” Eitsrik smiled, touching his forehead with a gentle hand. “There will be the opportunity for questions in the new sun.”
Softly, she sang in a language that Mark did not recognise, but the tune was sweet and despite his former assertion, he was asleep in a matter of moments.
* * * * *
“Rane Fax, the Worlds' Hope,
Answer the call.”
“Garo?” Mark responded, as the young Kasdtien emerged from the darkness of his dreams.
“There you are at last, my boy. I'm glad to see you made it through the Between okay.”
“Barely, but yeah, I'm on Quell, though I'm apparently out to it again,” Mark said.
“What's happened?” Garodine asked.
“Do you mean back on Earth, when Tyrren and a bunch of his mates tried to kill us, or in the Between, when something called Eaters turned up.”
“You've seen the Eaters?” he said, alarmed. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I'm fine. They don't take to being set on fire too well,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“I’d guess you’re right,” Garodine said.
“Well it seemed to make the Corronell happy, anyway.”
“You spoke to the Lights of the Between?” Garodine asked in an awestruck tone. “You're full of surprises, young Mark.”
“Yeah, well I surprised myself, but nuking the Eaters nearly killed me.”
“You've got to learn to draw your strength from elsewhere, Mark. The way you've been doing it will destroy you.” He paused, “Are you sure you're okay?”
“Look I'm fine, stop worrying. Eitsrik gave me something to drink called Corowine to make me sleep, though I'm not sure talking to you counts as resting.
“I've got more important things to ask you,” Mark began. “Angelie said there was more than one way out of the Between, is that true?”
“Yes, in a manner of speaking. I have made other ways out upon the Earth. Why do you ask?”
“My friend Matthew jumped through the door before we could stop him and I want to know if he could have come out somewhere else?”
“Unlikely I'm afraid. Without an Elae to guide him through the between, I would hope he dies quickly at the hands of the eaters if I were you.” He shook his head, “Better that than starving to death.”
“No. The Corronell said something about him going out somewhere else. Do you think that means they helped him?” Mark asked hopefully.
“The impossible is all that is impossible, the old saying goes. You are a shining example of that, my boy. You survived the worst that the Between has to offer.”
“I think Rane Fax helped me, but it did something to him. He sounded weird and said he was spent. Does that sound crazy?”
“No more insane than standing here talking to me in your dreams,” Garodine quipped. “Now I should let you rest, or Eitsrik will not be pleased.”
Already fading from sight, Garodine added, “Welcome home.”
With that Mark was left to his dreams, and they filled his sleep until morning.
* * * * *
Chapter Two: Gar Fall
Mark awoke to the crowing of a rooster somewhere outside the hut. The fire in the hearth was out, reduced to fine grey ash. He guessed that it was about five o'clock, as the pre-dawn light slipped through gaps in the wooden shutters. On the morning air was the scent of blooming flowers and a hint of spring, suggesting the day would be bright and warm.
His first thoughts were of Matthew and the question of the Corronell’s promise. There was nothing he could do about his friend’s fate so he tried to push his apprehension to the back of his mind for the moment.
A walk would clear his head, perhaps. Finding his backpack in the half light, he pulled out some fresh clothes and got dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. He pulled on his socks and running shoes and left the bungalow.
Stepping through the creaking wooden door and out into the grey morning light, he surveyed up and down the dirt road. There were thirty-or-so small wooden cottages lining the unpaved street. Each shack had a thatched roof and a small vegetable garden out the front.
Beyond the town, in the distance was a mountain range, familiar to him as the one in his painting, the snow-capped peaks crimson in the dawn light.
“I see you are awake at last,” Angelie spoke from behind him.
Turning, he saw her, smiling at him as she leant against the corner of his cottage. She was dressed in a simple, white shift, with sandals on her feet, and her loose hair falling over her shoulders. At her hip was a hemp bag, woven in a single piece, the long strap going around her neck and across her back.
“Don't you ever sleep?” he asked.
“Obviously not as much as you,” she retorted, with a wry smile. “Welcome home, Mark.”
“Thank you,” he said, “and glad to see you remembered my name.”
“It still sounds strange to my ears. I have always known of you as Rane Fax, the Worlds' Hope. It is difficult to now use another name for you,” she said.
“You'll get used to it. Just think of it as the name of your friend, okay?” Mark suggested. “I know I'd feel a lot more comfortable with that. It's a bit hard to take all the talk of prophecy and stuff, you know?”
“My friend?” She mulled over the idea. “Yes, this I can do.”
She smiled at him and Mark felt a sudden flush in his cheeks. There was something different in her demeanour and it caught him off guard. She was relaxed.
“Would you like to see Gar Fall?” Angelie offered. “Come with me and let me show you your home.”
“That'd be good,” he accepted, glad of the distraction. “So this place is called Gar Fall?”
“Yes. The village is in the Plains of Dao, between the Rydus Ranges and the Dragon's Spine, on the banks of the Rydus River.” As they walked, Angelie pointed in the direction of each landmark as she mentioned it. There was a glimmer of something in Angelie's expression as she led him through the village, the meaning of which he could not quite glean.
At the edge of town was a wooden footbridge that passed over the Rydus River, beyond which, was a path that followed the watercourse downstream. Low shrubs on either side bore flowers of red and blue and trees shaded them from the early morning sun. They followed the well-trodden path down river, the further they walked the louder the sound of falling water grew. At the track’s end was a large, open rock ledge that overlooked a massive sink hole at the edge of the river.
Much of the Rydus’ water poured deafeningly into the pit, disappearing underground leaving what remained of the river to continue beyond the landmark, reduced to a quarter of its original size.
“What is this place?” Mark yelled, overwhelmed by the thunderous roar.
“This is Garodine's Falls. It is said that he created it long ago, though he remembers neither why nor how it was done.” Angelie was pleased to see the wonder in Mark's face.
Mark marvelled at the spectacle as the water disappeared into the darkness far below the lookout. Spray from the falling water rose to meet the morning sunlight, creating a rainbow arch that spanned that great abyss.
“Come, there is more to see,” she said, pulling on his hand and dragging him along a dry tributary. The creek bed looked like it had not felt the touch of water for many years.
Leaving the river and waterfall behind them, they made their way along the sandy stream bed, the thunder of the falls subsiding the further they went until Mark could barely hear it at all.
The sand squeaked under Mark’s feet as Angelie lead him along the empty watercourse until they reached a grove of trees that surrounded an ox bow lake.
“It's a billabong,” Mark said, “I’ve only ever seen one of these before.”
“Bill-a-bong?” Angelie laughed, the crystalline sound making him smile. “What a strange name,”
“There are legends about places like this, back home,” Mark said. “It's where bunyips are supposed to live.”
“What is a bun-yup?” she asked, struggling with the pronunciation and frowning.
“Nobody's really sure. It's like every description's different but they’re big and scary.” He struggled to explain the indigenous myth. “They hang around places like this and sometimes drown people who go swimming in the water.”
“Ahh. Perhaps this will help you to understand.”
Dropping her bag on the bank, she turned towards the billabong and sang a single, clear, high note, holding it steadily for what seemed like ages. When she had finished, there was a long pause and Mark waited expectantly for something to happen. Soon, the surface of the water began rippling, though there was no breath of a breeze. Then, from the near side of the billabong, a shape began to rise from the water. Formless at first, a dark creature rose up from the dark waters. As tall as a tree, its great head took shape, broad and terrifying, with water falling from its tooth filled mouth like drool. The monstrous body rose up over the top of them, blotting out the morning sun.
Mark was petrified by the horrible creature and he staggered backwards, falling helplessly to the ground.
“Tira riory, Imsoola!” Angelie called in a scolding tone, while in Mark's mind he heard her thoughts. “Enough foolishness, Imsoola!”
The beast responded to her scolding by falling apart, bursting like a huge water balloon that sprayed water heavily over them both in a drenching shower.
“Miro riorie.” Angelie's thoughts were translated as, “Very funny.”
Mark's former terror gave way to fascination as his mind translated her words. He was not interpreting the language, instead knowing the phrases' meaning.
“Show yourself, Imsoola. Do not embarrass me in front of the Worlds' Hope,” Angelie demanded.
From one of the surrounding trees, came a small light, glowing like a minmin light or a will-o' the wisp, flying down over the surface of the water towards them. As it approached, it grew, taking on a form similar in features to Angelie.
“This is the Hope?” Imsoola gushed. “He's cute.”
“Imsoola, behave,” Angelie chided her.
“This is Imsoola. She is an Aquidae, a water wisp, though a very badly behaved one. They are the guardians of the waters here on Quell.”
“Um, hi,” Mark greeted, getting back onto his feet, a little embarrassed by the fear he had shown at her original appearance.
Imsoola, in her guise as a Quide girl, glided up to him and kissed him playfully on the lips, making him blush.
“Tiora ne Imsoola de riory se, Rane Fax?” she asked. “Are YOU offended by my foolishness, Worlds' Hope?” She giggled, seeing his obvious embarrassment.
Mark pretended not to understand the flirting nymph, looking to Angelie for some hint as to how he should respond, but she bore a dark expression on her face that he did not comprehend.
“Imsoola, show respect. He is not your plaything.” Even if he could not have read the thought, the tone of her voice made her anger more than clear enough.
Imsoola smiled slyly at Angelie saying. “I think someone else is wanting him for their plaything, perhaps?”
“Be gone you wicked sprite. I bring Rane Fax to you as an honour and you repay me with your innuendo.” Angelie seemed genuinely hurt.
“Pray, forgive me Angelie of the Farshyhn, no insult did I mean you. Be at peace and welcome to my waters.” And with a bow of her head to Mark, Imsoola became a wisp of light again, skimming away over the water and back out of sight among the trees on the far side.
“What the hell was that all about?” Mark asked as he bent down to pull off his wet shoes.
“That was Imsoola being playful, but she has given us permission,” Angelie said as she moved next to him.
“Permission to do what?” Mark asked, baffled both by the conversation and by Angelie's crooked smile.
“This!” she said, suddenly pushing Mark towards the water. Though she had caught him off balance, he managed to grab hold of one of her arms and the two of them tumbled backwards into the lake.
It was cold, making Mark's skin tingle as he stood waist deep in the dark water.
Angelie broke the surface several metres away, grinning and doing a backstroke, prepared for any retaliation. After the initial shock wore off, Mark scooped a large splash of water at her. He removed his remaining shoe and his socks, throwing them onto the bank before diving in after her. Laughing, she swam away, but he was a stronger swimmer than she had realised. Soon he managed to catch her foot, pulling her under the surface before swimming quickly away to the far bank.
Clambering onto the sand he called out, “Safe.”
“Safe?” Angelie asked, “What do you mean, safe?”
“Bar. Time out,” he said, sitting down. “Give me a break, it's bloody cold in there.”
“Coward,” she laughed. Joining him on the beach, she lay down beside him and closed her eyes.
Mark watched the strange girl as she lay on the sand with her forearm covering her eyes, a half-smile on her face. For a while they did not speak, bathing in the gentle peace of the moment, as the morning sunlight filtered through the trees and the birdsong echoed around the lake.
After all that had happened, Mark felt the weight of his fears lift.
“You’re really different now than you were back on Earth,” he said, breaking the silence.
“Nor are you as I had expected,” she said, looking up at him from under her arm.
“Better or worse?” Mark asked.
“Different, I was in awe of your legend, but of you...not so much,” She laughed.
“Thanks.” He laughed also.
“So am I better or worse?” she asked.
“Different,” he answered. “I don’t know. You were always so intense back home but now you just seem happy.”
“This is the place where I feel most at home. Wherever I go, however far away I am, the memory of this place brings me peace,” Angelie said with sudden seriousness.
“You know, I wish I had a place like that,” Mark said.
“This could be yours also, if you would like,” she suggested.
“Thank you, I think I'd like that,” Mark said. “In fact, thanks for everything, I don’t think I’ve said that, have I?”
“There is no need.”
“Yeah, well thanks anyway,” he insisted.
Angelie stood and brushed the sand off herself, saying, “We should return. The Fasdtelae will begin arriving soon. Eitsrik will wish to discuss our plans for the defence of Jarod’s Door.”
“And what exactly are our plans?” Mark asked, standing and sweeping the sand from his backside.
“That is for you to decide,” Angelie said simply.”
“What?” Mark's uncertainty broke like a dam. “I haven't got a plan. Until a week ago, mid-year exams were my biggest worry. Now I'm supposed to have a plan?”
“Do not worry. Remember that you are not alone in this war.”
“How am I going do this, Angelie? I don’t even believe in war, I mean, seriously. I'm not a soldier. Hell, if anything I’m a pacifist,” he said.
“Do not despair,” she said, reaching out and touching his cheek gently. “You were born for this. Whatever is, you are ready for and whatever will be, you will be ready for also when the time comes. You are not alone, Mark, nor are you powerless.”
“Everyone keeps saying that, but I can't even use my power without it killing me. Every time I use an Elae, it's like I'm barely holding on. They just burst out.”
His voice was filled with fear but Angelie looked into his eyes and smiled. “Then I will teach you.”
For an odd moment Mark wanted to embrace her but he resisted the urge, still embarrassed and confused by his own feelings and those to which Imsoola had alluded.
“Um, err. Yeah, thanks,” he stuttered, trying to recover some composure.
“Come, we should go back. They will be missing us soon,” she said.
They walked around the bank of the billabong. Angelie collected her shoulder bag, while Mark retrieved his wet shoes and socks before they headed back to the village.
* * * * *
Mark and Angelie returned from their swim and sat on the steps of the Long House. The building was the focal point for the village. Thick wooden pillars, broader than his body, rose on each side of the entrance. Stained in mahogany red, every inch of them was covered in intricate carvings. It was reminiscent of something Mark had seen in pictures of New Zealand. The heavy doors were open revealing a large table inside, with many chairs around it. It was an impressive statement about the people of the village.
Soon Eitsrik brought breakfast over to them, hot cheesy bread and something brown in a bowl that Mark did not like the look of much.
Mark, Angelie and Eitsrik ate and talked together for a time, the mood remaining light until Eitsrik said, “We must begin your training, Rane Fax.”
“Yeah, I figured that’d be coming,” he answered with a sigh. “I don’t suppose we could hold off for a little while longer?”
“No,” she answered bluntly. “The other Fasdtelae have been given word of your return and are travelling as we speak. You have much to learn before the War Word is given.”
“What’s a War Word? Is that like a declaration of war or something?” he asked.
“When it is time, the Circulate will issue the Word to all the races and we will oppose the Ty-Cahn. Until then, we are honour bound and no aggression may be shown by any member of the Council.”
“What if the Ty decide to start something first?” he persisted.
“We are not unprepared!” Eitsrik said bluntly and stood up.
“Yeah well I am,” he answered under his breath.
“The Fasdtelae will begin arriving soon, we will discuss this further when they get here. I have preparations to make.” Eitsrik took their plates and went back into the long house leaving Mark and Angelie alone.
“Is she mad at me, Angelie?” He asked in a low voice.
“You should guard your tongue, Mark. Eitsrik is not your enemy,” she said.
“I know. I’m just a bit freaked by everything.”
“Do not carry the morrow’s burden this sun,” she said.
“That’s easier said than done.
“So, what are the other Fasdtelae like?” he asked, changing the subject.
“You will have to meet them for yourself when they come,” she said, standing. “For now you will need more suitable garb. Go, dress in sturdier clothing and I will come for you soon.”
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“You will just have to wait and see,” she answered.
In her eyes was something that looked a little like mischief.
* * * * *
Chapter Three: New Things
Angelie had come to collect Mark from his hut soon after he had changed out of his damp and sandy clothes. Taking her at her word, he wore jeans, a tee shirt and shoes, expecting that he was going to need something made of tougher stuff than his nylon board shorts. She took him to a large saddling yard near the edge of the village. It had rough-hewn wooden rails and the air was laced with the distinctive smell of horse sweat and manure.
“What are we doing here?” Mark asked.
“We are here to find you a mount,” Angelie said.
Mark recalled his last riding experience. The horse had bolted, throwing him off in the process, leaving him bruised and battered. He did not like horses.
“I probably should tell you that I've never been very good with horses,” he said nervously. “I've only ever been riding a couple of times in my life and the last time didn't end well.”
Opening the wooden gate, Angelie smiled and ushered him into the yard. “Then I will teach you,” she said, “and this time it will end well.”
Moving through the open gate, Mark saw the beasts for the first time. Twelve of them were milling together near a trough on the other side of the enclosure, all large, all powerful and all of them unrestrained. He backed up against the fence, trying to avoid catching their attention.
Angelie followed Mark in, shutting the gate behind her and securing it, trapping him on the uncomfortable side of the fence.
“Do not fear,” she said encouragingly. It did not work.
While Mark remained with his back to the rails, Angelie clicked her tongue loudly. A chestnut mare turned its head at the sound, revealing a pure white star on its forehead. On seeing Angelie it approached, shaking its long mane proudly. It nickered, nudging her gently with its head as the girl stroked its cheek.
“This is Saphariel, is she not the most beautiful creature you have ever seen?” she gushed. “Her name is Quidor for the Som star. She has been with me for three cycles and we have seen the breadth of Tarnak together.”
Angelie beckoned Mark to come closer, which he did reluctantly, trying to keep her between himself and the horse. “Do not be afraid, she is very gentle.”
She took Mark's hand and pulled him closer to Saphariel, making him slide his hand down the mare's muscular neck. He stroked the horse's neck and shoulder and after a minute or so he began to relax, realising that she was not going to attack him.
“Now, we must find you a mount.” At Angelie’s suggestion Mark felt his anxiety return.
Leading him by the hand, she approached the rest of the horses, most of which moved away skittishly. One horse, however, did not shy from them. It was a young stallion, totally black apart from the thin white strip, shaped like a lightning bolt, which ran from its forehead to its nose. The beast stood its ground, with nostrils flared and its head held high. The horse was an impressive sight, though Mark's only consideration was how easily it could crush him if it wanted.
Angelie laughed as the stallion approached him. “I do believe you have no need to choose a mount after all, Mark. It would seem that he has chosen you.”
“Are you sure he's not just ticked off?” Mark asked rhetorically, fighting the strong urge to flee.
The stallion whinnied, shaking its head and mane.
“Do not be afraid. Come,” she assured him. “He will accept you, as long as you show him that you are not a threat.”
“I don’t think that’s a problem,” Mark said.
“Be calm.”
“Easy for you to say.”
The horse came up to them, its proud head high. At Angelie’s urging Mark reached up and stroked the nape of the stallion's neck, as he had with Saphariel and it responded by nuzzling against him.
“Well done young Master,” a deep voice called from the safe side of the fence. “He is a fine choice.”
The voice belonged to a mountain of a man who was wearing a leather apron, leather trousers and boots, with his massive chest and arms uncovered. In one of his hands he held a saddle which he slung easily onto the fence.
“A blessed rise to you mistress Angelie, and might this fine young lad be the Hope we've been hearing so much about?” the blacksmith asked with a grin.
“The blessing returns to the giver, Guildsman and your word is true. This is Rane Fax, though he prefers his Earthen name, Mark,” Angelie replied. “Guildsman Herick is the smith and master of horses to Gar Fall, a talented crafter of iron,” she told Mark.
“G'day,” Mark greeted the blacksmith, though he remained very aware of the powerful animal beside him.
“I and all Quell rejoice at your return.” Then with a sly grin he added, “All but the Ty, I suspect, who will rue this day.”
“Guildsman Herick!” Angelie chided the smithy.
“Begging your forgiveness, mistress. The spirit speaks when the heart is silent. I'll just go and fetch the rest o' the gear, shall I?” Excusing himself, Herick wandered off towards a nearby shed.
“What was that all about?” Mark asked.
“It is a bad omen to speak ill of any people, even the Ty, unless the War Word is given.”
Mark continued to stroke the stallion's neck and despite himself, he found the action was surprisingly calming and he began to relax again. The more at ease he became, the more Angelie grinned.
After several minutes Herick returned with another saddle, bridles and the like and joined them in the yard. The smith then proceeded to saddle the horses.
“So, this boy needs a name, young master. Have you thought of one yet?” he asked, calling out from under Saphariel as he fixed the saddle’s belt.
Mark looked into the stallion's face and at its crooked strip, asking Angelie, “What's the Quide word for lightning?”
“Fierzien,” she answered approvingly. “It means sky fire.”
“That’s a good, strong name for this boy,” Herick said approvingly.
“Then Fierzien it is,” answered Mark.
The horse master finished saddling both horses with the quick assurance of years of experience.
Sooner than he would have liked, Mark was mounting his horse, still apprehensive but no longer terrified. Angelie swung up onto Saphariel as Herick opened the gate and they rode out of the yard.
At first, Angelie just took him riding around the village for about a half an hour, teaching him the basics and soon he had lost the urge to jump off the horse every time it moved in an unexpected manner. He was shown how to nudge his mount forward, how to stop and how to use the reins to direct Fierzien one way or the other.
They walked their horses at first, Angelie teaching him to move with the rhythm of the horse’s movement and not against it.
They rode for several hours, trotting the horses around the outskirts of Gar Fall before riding out into the open plains. There they tried cantering before taking the horses up to a gallop. Mark was sure he would come out of the saddle on more than one occasion but he managed to stay mounted and attained a rough sort of proficiency.
They rode as far as Jarod's Door, about a kilometre to the north of the village.
“So this is Jarod’s Door?” Mark commented, “Gotta say, it just looks like a dirty great lump of rock?”
“Power is not in what is seen, Mark but what is held within.”
It had taken most of the lesson just to get into a rhythm that did not result in him bashing his rear end on the saddle.
By the time they returned to the yard Mark felt he'd mostly conquered his fear. He was, however, still more than ready to do something else.
They left the horses with Herick at the stables and Angelie continued to show Mark around the village, what little there was left to see. By lunch time, Mark had pretty much seen all that Gar Fall had to offer so he and Angelie headed back to the Long House.
“We will ride again after we have eaten,” she informed him.
“Great,” he said sarcastically. “Looking forward to it.”
Waiting on the long house steps sat two boys. One was an elf, with pointed ears and emerald green eyes, whilst the other was a human with similar features to a Samoan boy whom Mark knew back at school. His black dreadlocks danced over his eyes as he laughed at something the fair skinned elf had said. Despite his childlike appearance, the elf was as tall as Mark.
“The Fasdtelae have begun to arrive. I will introduce you to them,” Angelie offered.
“Okay,” he agreed.
“This is Danielier and this is Lyanor,” she said. “This is Rane Fax, the World’s Hope.”
“Ahh. G'day,” he said. “Call me Mark, please.”
“Call me Dan. Good t’be fin'lly meetin' yo'. You' feelin' better I see.” The islander stated with a friendly smile.
“A lot better thanks.” Something in Dan's smile reminded Mark of Matthew.
Angelie continued, “Lyanor is exceptional with the bow and renowned for his knowledge of plant lore, even among his own people.”
The elf nodded politely but said nothing, giving her an odd look.
“Are the others here yet?” she asked.
“Not yet, tho' Irakae could be turnin' up any time. You know 'er,” he smiled at some inside joke the meaning of which eluded Mark.
“Come and eat,” Eitsrik called from the Long House entrance.
Inside were the smells of roasted meat and the aroma made Mark realise he was hungry. They sat around the table which was laid with roast meat and steaming vegetables, fruits and breads; far more food than they could possibly eat by themselves.
The table was made from the enormous cross-section of a tree; its wood stained a deep, blood-red. The dark circles of its growth rings diminished in size towards the carving of a lion in its centre.
They chatted away as they ate, Mark finding more little pieces of the puzzle this world and its people presented.
Dan had been training under Eitsrik for seven years and was skilled in the use of his Hoelae. The Elae allowed him to feel what others felt and to take away their mental and physical wounds.
Lyanor was silent for the first fifteen minutes or so, eating nothing but mushrooms whilst ever attentive to the conversation.
Finally the elf spoke to Mark. “I have watched you, as is our custom and have given you due consideration. I will now call you friend and I am blessed to share this life with you.”
The elf then bowed his head towards Mark.
Mark stopped eating and looked up at the elf, “Ah. Thanks, I think.”
Dan burst out laughing, “Yo' s'pose to say the blessin' returns to the giver.”
“Oh, okay. Um. The blessing returns to the giver.”
At this Lyanor lifted his head and smiled. Dan and Angelie laughed and Mark joined them, though he felt a little embarrassed by his ineptitude.
“So Angelie moves things and Dan can heal people, what’s your Elae, Lyanor?” Mark asked, trying to engage the elf in conversation.
In reply the elf held out his hand and a small ball of flame appeared, dancing across his fingertips before it rose into the air and vanished.
“Fierelae,” he said simply, putting another mushroom into his mouth.
“It is fire calling,” Eitsrik explained, “and he is being pretentious.”
“So who else is there?” Mark asked. “Who are the other Fasdtelae?”
“Well, there's Irakae,” Dan answered through a mouthful of food. “She 'as Doekelae. Means she can go from 'ere to there by thinkin' 'bout it. Then there's Kemparut who knows what you be thinkin'. That's Teelae.”
“She is also a deft crystalsmith,” Angelie added.
“What's a crystalsmith?” Mark asked.
“She's a Dwarf, so she be lettin' out the power from stones,” Dan explained.
“Like the Sea Stones, right?” Mark asked.
“That's right,” Dan smiled.
“Okay. Who else?”
“There's Krahl. Now e's a Troll but don't be callin' 'im that to 'is face. He's a Saranjel. 'e 'as Soelae so 'e sees what's 'appening before it 'appens.
“Then there's Mandean. He's okay when you get to know him but e's got Eolaelae, so he can play with your 'ead.”
“That's everyone?” Mark asked.
“That's all of us,” Dan said.
Mark looked around the table to one of the empty seats and thought of Matthew.
“You be worryin' 'bout someone,” Dan said to him quietly.
“Yeah. A mate of mine back on Earth. I just don't know what happened to him.”
“Well, these things 'ave a habit o' workin' 'emselves out,” Dan smiled. “Can't fret what you can't fix.”
“I guess not,” Mark answered. Nonetheless he did worry.
After a while the topic of conversation came around to the impending war with the Ty.
“Word of your arrival has been sent to the Council,” Eitsrik said, “They will expect an audience with you soon, before the War Word is given, Rane Fax.”
“Yeah, well I still don’t know what I think about all that,” he said. “Most of the wars I’ve heard of ended up being pretty pointless.”
“Sometimes war is the only option left to us,” Eitsrik said.
“Ever heard the expression, if war is the answer it’s a bloody stupid question.”
The mood in the room became noticeably cooler after Mark’s remark and they finished the meal in virtual silence. One by one, Lyanor, Dan and Eitsrik excused themselves from the table, leaving Mark and Angelie alone again.
“I know, I know,” Mark said, seeing Angelie’s disapproving expression. “I should watch what I say.”
“Yes, you should,” she agreed.
“What now?” Mark asked, trying to change the subject
“I asked Herick to have the horses ready again by mid-sun. We should not keep him waiting.”
“Right,” he conceded unenthusiastically.
* * * * *
Chapter Four: Lessons In Modern Warfare.
Astride Fierzien, Mark was beginning to enjoy trotting around the outskirts of the village, though it had more to do with Angelie’s company than the actual riding. He almost felt disappointment when, after half an hour or so, they began heading back to the stable.
Waiting at the stables for them, along with Herick, were the two Fasdtelae, Lyanor and Dan.
“G'day. What's going on?” Mark asked as he began dismounting.
“Don't be getting’ off,” Dan said.
It was then that Mark noticed two more horses had been saddled and were ready.
Herick held the horses as the other two mounted. Taking the reins, Dan and Lyanor turned their horses easily and joined Mark and Angelie.
“Let’s go.” Dan said. “Got somethin’ we’ll be needin’ t’ show you.”
“What is it?” Mark asked.
“You’ll see,” said Dan. “Wanna race?”
“You’re joking, aren’t you?” Mark felt unprepared for any such thing.
“To where shall we race?” Angelie asked, patting Saphariel's neck.
“The Ruins of Thenoine,” Lyanor answered in his musical tone.
“Keep up, if yo' can,” Dan challenged laughing, and with a shout he kicked his horse into a gallop with Lyanor driving his own horse into action, immediately behind.
“Come on,” Angelie called over her shoulder.
Saphariel leaped forward and before Mark could respond, Fierzien was cantering after the others, leaving him unbalanced and hanging on for dear life.
Through the dirt streets of the village they raced and out into the plains beyond. The four horses, once freed from the confines of the village, all put on a burst of speed. The other riders leaned forward in the saddle while Mark gripped the reins, clenching his teeth in terror. Dan was first passed Jarod's door, with Lyanor hot on his heels. Angelie began closing the gap, with Mark unwillingly drawn along behind them all.
Across the plains of tall grass they raced, Angelie catching up with Lyanor and Dan easily. Mark's heartbeat matched the thunder of Fierzien's hooves while the others all seemed to be enjoying themselves.
After ten minutes of the bone shaking ride there appeared a shadow on the horizon. Another five minutes and the shadow became a multitude of dark and broken shapes. He presumed it was the goal of the race and he gave his horse its head at last.
They raced right to the edge of the broken and blackened ruins of Thenoine. Angelie reached the finish first, followed twenty seconds later by Lyanor. Danielier was a little further behind, whilst Mark was just happy to have kept the others in sight. By the time he reached them they had dismounted and their horses were drinking from a pond of water under a broken fountain.
“Huh!” Angelie was still gloating. “None is faster than Saphariel.”
Dan feigned misery, whilst Lyanor laughed having enjoyed the race purely for the fun of it.
Having survived the ride without embarrassing or hurting himself, Mark had overcome the worst of his phobia, joking as he dismounted, “And Mark Tandell receives a creditable fourth place.”
The others laughed, though he was unclear whether they were laughing with him, or at his awkward dismount. Letting Sky Fire go and drink with the other horses, Mark joined his friends, asking, “So what is this place?”
At his question, the laughter stopped as though they all suddenly remembered where they were.
“This is Thenoine. It was a great trading city once and home to more than twenty thousand lives,” Angelie explained.
“Yeah, this was a great city and people'd be comin' from all 'round just to be seein' it,” Dan added.
They began to walk through the overgrown streets, between the blackened remains of the buildings. Every structure was shattered. Partial stone walls and foundations were all that remained and Mark guessed that it was abandoned and destroyed a long time ago.
Angelie continued the history lesson, “Four cycles after our birth, our enemy sent one hundred of his cursed sorcerers, the Ty-Caia, to avail upon this place.
“They like us have power, but whereas our Elaes are born of life, the Ty draw power from death and misery.
“They came in the night, first killing the sleeping families that farmed beyond Thenoine’s walls. Using these stolen lives they cursed the people and entered unseen into the sleeping city. Those that were awake fell into slumber and those that slept could not be awakened.
“Seeking only the children, they took the life of every child, leaving again without challenge.
“The people awoke when the curse lifted and saw the despair that the Ty-Caia had left for them. The wails of every mother of Thenoine filled these walls.”
Mark could almost hear the screams, as they wandered through the desolate decay.
“Enraged by the horror, those that were able pursued the Ty-Caia into the darkness to have their revenge. For two Sedia, twelve thousand chased the cursed hundred, but then, from whence they had come in the Yeom, they saw a black cloud rising. They abandoned the search, turning back towards the burning Thenoine but when they reached the city, there was nothing but death and rubble.
“The Ty-Caia had left a Fierveleck behind, a curse that grows with grief. It consumed the city entirely, leaving nothing but what you see here now.” Angelie stopped talking for a moment to try to compose herself.
Danielier took the opportunity to continue the narrative.
“The ones that 'ad stayed behind were the grievin' mothers and the frail. They buried them that they could and then left the city like this, takin' nothin' but tears. Some killed 'emselves, some just disappeared, but none'll ever come back 'ere, where everythin' was taken from them.”
They had reached a place in the middle of the city where a large mound the size of a football field had been made.
“This is where they buried the dead.”
The mound was devoid of any vegetation, as though life could not bear to grow over the remnant of such an atrocity.
Around the base of the mound were white stones, carved with intricate detail, depicting people, Mark assumed, who had died.
“The Dwarves placed the remembering stones here, in memory of the dead. Each contains a Word of Loss from those that returned.”
Mark examined one of the stones near to him. The white stone was finely embossed with the image of a mother feeding a child. Reverently, he traced his finger over the grooves in the rock.
“Darkness has stolen all love from me.” Mark snatched his hand away. The grief that accompanied the voice in his mind took him unawares as it washed over him. After a few seconds, he traced another.
“Wife and mother, child and son. Lost my all and only loves. Today I join them, ever and for all.”
Mark traced another, and then another. Again and again the waves of grief, anger and emptiness became his for that moment. He lost count of how many stones he traced and the sorrow of how many fathers and husbands he endured. When at last he could take no more he fell to his knees, his vision blurred by tears.
“Why?” Mark asked. “Why did they do this?”
“They were lookin' for us, Mark,” Danielier answered. “They were wantin' to destroy the Fasdtelae, so they could change the future.”
Angelie took back up the narrative. “Garodine and the Dwarves found the Ty-Caia at the foot of Fier Rhile and defeated them. Because of this, the thread of peace remains unbroken.
“Garodine searched the land to find us all, those that had be gifted by you, and brought us to the safety of Allholm, under the protection of the Circulate.
“So what are the Ty up to now?” Mark asked.
“The Saranjels sent word to us, two seasons and a cycle ago, that the Ty hordes had been summoned by their master. Garodine was trying to discover why when he disappeared.”
“Okay, that's what you don't know.” He stood and faced her, “but there's something you're not telling me. What is it?”
“The Saranjels sent their Word three seasons past of hearing thunder coming from Tykreake' and now the Noin have heard the same sound near the Dragon’s Mouth.
“Irakae has gone to the Dragon's Teeth, to seek an answer to this mystery. We know little other than this, but it does not bode well for us. It may be that the Ty have a new weapon to use against us.
“Until we know more of this threat, we may do nothing,” she concluded.
Mark tried to guess what this latest threat could be, but all he knew was a growing sense of apprehension.
The four of them were silent for a moment as Mark surveyed the massive burial mound, contemplating the thousands of white stones and the heartless nature of his enemy. Dan sensed the mixed emotions and placing his hand on Mark's shoulder, he said. “I've felt what you're feelin' 'bout wars my friend but sometimes the question’s not so stupid.”
* * * * *
The ride back was taken at a much more leisurely pace and the despair of Thenoine faded the further they rode from the ruin. They talked as they travelled and Mark soon discovered that Dan had a sense of humour, making much of Mark's clothing, particularly the fluorescent motif that covered his back.
“Not really tryin' for hidin', are you?” Dan laughed.
“Yeah, well it's normal where I'm from, mate,” Mark objected. “I don't know that I'm ready to wear what you guys are wearing, anyway.”
“Well you're goin' to have t' sooner than you think.” Dan and Lyanor grinned at some private joke.
“What?” Mark asked. “What's the joke?”
“You'll just have t' wait and see,” Dan said cryptically.
It was getting late in the afternoon by the time they reached Gar Fall.
As Mark dismounted, he felt the discomfort of saddle soreness, walking gingerly, with his legs slightly apart.
“Come 'ere.” Dan called as he dismounted and Mark went over to him.
Dan placed a hand on each shoulder and warmth flowed down through Mark's body. As the strange sensation flooded him, the soreness seemed to drain away, until his thighs and backside no longer felt like they’d been tenderised.
“Cool trick,” Mark commented. “Better than the first aid course I did at school last year.”
“I'll be teachin' you to do it too, if you’re wantin' me to,” he offered.
“That'd be cool, thanks.”
Herick came from the stables, greeting the group cordially before leading the horses back into the yard.
Mark and his friends walked back towards the centre of the village, where preparations were being made.
In the middle of town was a large square where tables and bench seats were laid out and people were decorating their houses. As they passed, the people stopped and called out greetings, bowing their heads in respect. Mark found it all a bit odd.
When they reached the long house, Eitsrik was waiting for them.
“This dark, the people of Gar Fall have asked to honour you all with a Holnitay. Until then you should you use your time with wisdom,” the immortal suggested. She walked down the Long House steps and away to attend to something.
Angelie excused herself also, going off to prepare for the festival, as did Lyanor.
“What's a Holnitay?” Mark asked Dan.
“It's a festival. Be celebratin' the return of a hero.”
“Who?” he asked.
“Who’d yo’ think?” Dan laughed.
“You can't be serious,” he objected.
“Oh yes,” he laughed. “And they'll be wantin' you t’ dress for it too.”
Mark felt butterflies in his stomach and Dan knew it. The islander’s laughter did nothing to calm Mark's nerves.
“Come on,” Dan said. “Let’s get somethin’ t’ eat.”
They moved into the hall, and sat around the table, picking at the nuts and dried fruits that were already laid out.
“You know, yo’ be nothin' like I was thinkin' you'd be,” Dan commented.
“Disappointed?” Mark asked.
“No. I'm likin' it, to tell y' the truth. I was worryin' that you'd be all prideful but you're not,” Dan explained, “I be feelin' more like a friend than a follower.”
“Good, because right now what I need are friends and you and Angelie are the only ones who talk to me like I'm normal. Lyanor's nice but he’s a bit...” He struggled for an appropriate adjective.
“A bit o’ an elf?” Dan offered. “You'll get used to 'im. Don't you be worryin' 'bout the others, 'cause you're probably just gettin' the sense o' their own feelin's all twistin' up inside of 'em. What, with the war comin’ and all, they' got their own problems to be sortin'.”
“Haven't we all?” Mark sighed.
“Let me tell you somethin' 'bout how 'tis with Hoelae. Tis'nt like the other Elaes, 'cause it's always there. The others 'ave to be learned t' be done but with Hoelae, you've got to learn how t' not use it.
“I found out early that I shouldn't be goin' 'round tellin' people what they be feelin', 'cause tellin' people don't get you many friends. So I learned t' pretend like I don't be knowin' what's inside of 'em. It took a bit longer to learn not to know. When I be seein' things in people's hearts that they probably don’t be wantin’ me to see, I just don't tell ‘em I know.”
“That's kind of weird,” Mark noted. “And a bit freaky.”
“Frik-ey?” Dan asked, trying to understand the slang.
“Scary. Like, you know everything that I'm feeling even if I don't want you to,” Mark explained.
“Nah, that's nothin’.
Wait to you get two people who be likin' each other but don't be knowin' it yet. Now that's really...” Dan paused, searching for the right word, before concluding with a smile, “Frikey.”