The train pulled into the station. It came to a full stop and the doors were unlocked. Most who stepped of rushed away, to catch a connecting train, or a taxi, or to meet someone. However as Jake MacNeill stepped onto the platform he moved to the side, out of the way of the passing throng. Jake had long hair and wore a black leather jacket over a military green t-shirt with black jeans. The station, to his eyes, looked as though it had a caretaker that took great care in his work. The flowers were neatly arranged in their red boxes and the platform seemed almost completely devoid of dirt, there was the occasional dark circle of chewing gum. There remained of course the smell of diesel which disturbed his nostrils. Soon his parents joined him on the platform.
His father, John was bald with a thin mustache. He was slightly shorter than his son and athletic in physique. He also disliked the smell of the diesel and pondered that he might have been able to make the trip by foot. This he might have done, taken an extra week off and at least attempted it. Jake's mother who followed his father would have talked him out of it. His mother, Karen, was shorter still, she was a little plump, or cuddly as Jake told her, with black hair and wore a purple top with a frilled neck and black trousers.
The family headed out of the station into the car park. They began looking for Jake's cousin's car. He wasn't here yet.
“The train was a little early,” Jake said, by way of an explanation.
“So there is a first time for everything!” John said, “trains can be early.”
“As we have a few minutes do you mind if I call...”
“Stacy,” his parents said in unison.
“Carry on,” Karen said.
“Thanks.”
Jake walked a little way away from his parents and pressed the speed dial on his phone. It only rang for a few moments before being picked up.
“Hi babes,” Stacy said, “have a good trip?”
“Just another trip on a train,” Jake said, “how did the exam go?”
“All right I think. Won't know until results day I guess.”
“Well I'm sure you did fine. Sorry I can't be there tonight.”
“That's okay. Your be here for the prom thought, that's the important thing.”
“Indeed. Wouldn't miss it. Have fun this evening though.”
“We will,” Stacy said, she sounded as though she were smiling.
“I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut our conversation short,” Jake said, “looks like my cousin is here.”
“Okay. Love you. See you on prom night.”
“Love you, Bye.”
“Bye.”
Jake hung up the phone and put it back in the inside pocket of his coat. He headed back over to his parents where a small blue car had pulled up. The car's two occupants stepped out. The first was Jake's cousin Lee followed by his wife Hannah. Lee had short trim hair, a slim figure and was dressed, appropriately in a navy blue shirt and jeans and wore a smart jacket. His wife wore a flowery dress and had hair the colour of strawberries.
Jake and Lee communicated regularly by email, though it had been a while since they had seen each other in person.
“Still growing your hair?”
“Still keeping it short,” Jake returned.
“Its the regulations,” Lee said as he embraced his cousin, uncle and aunt in turn. He then helped them place their bags in the car and they set off.
As Lee drove Hannah briefly placed a hand on his shoulder. Lee turned his head to her and she smiled. He nodded to her as if some secret message had passed between them. Jake and his parents were barely aware of the exchange.
“Thought I might give you some information about what we're seeing here,” Lee said as they turned a corner, “then I realized, I know nothing. We'll be at the house soon. Not a lot happens here, but we have a castle and...”
“The pleasure of your company,” Karen said, when Lee was unforthcoming with the end of his sentence.
“Thanks,” Lee said. He hoped the distraction in his voice wasn't detectable. Hannah had no doubt heard it, but she was his wife. The reasons for it was clear. Just two months ago his grandfather, Joe, had died - he was ninety-three. Lee had been to the funeral but it had been a, literal, flying visit. He could not say he was sad precisely. After all his grandfather had lived to a grand old age, and died peacefully. Every now and then something reminded him of his grandfather. Something on the news, a documentary or any news to do with his career. He imagined Karen had smiler feelings, Joe had been her father. As Lee drove his mind when went back twelve years, a family holiday in York. The trip turned out to be far more interesting than he could have imagined.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Lee West woke with a start. For a moment he was slightly disorientated. Then as he looked at the bed - or rather lilo - he was on and saw a double bed, he remembered, he was staying with his grandparents in York. A smell began to waft into the room tickling his nose. Soon his ears pricked up as a sizzling sound followed. Bacon! he thought. Rising from the lilo he stood over his parent's bed.
“Granddad's making breakfast.”
“Smells good,” his mother, Mary, said drowsily, “go and get washed and dressed. We'll be up in a little while.”
Lee left the room, was washed and changed quickly then dashed down the stairs. His grandmother was crouched in the hall picking up the post. Lee wished her a good morning and turned past the stairs entering the kitchen-cum-dining room, this also connected to the living room. His grandfather was stood at the stove cracking the eggs into the pan.
“Five out of five,” he said.
“Five what?” Lee asked.
“You made me jump,” Joe said, “didn't see you their.”
“Sorry.”
“Its okay. Five eggs cracked into the frying pan without braking the yolks.”
“Well done.”
“I've had some days where I make the breakfast, then make a cake, and its the eggs for the cake that remain intact!”
“Before you whisk them?”
“Yes,” Joe smiled, “exactly. Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Lee returned.
“Would you be able to keep an eye of on the eggs? While I change into something a little more formal than a bath robe.”
“Sure.”
Lee kept an eye on the eggs, then, convinced that they would not be ready for a while, headed into the living room. He was distracted by a plaque on the mantelpiece. The words of some poem were engraved on it, he read with mild interest. Going over to the stove he checked the eggs, not quite done. Back to the mantelpiece and he inspected a picture that stood next to the plaque. It showed a man stood next to plane and the brass plate beneath read:
Wing Commander Joe Taylor
04/09/1951
“Great picture,” Lee said to himself.
“Thought you'd like that one,” Doris, his grandmother said, “where's Joe he's got eggs cooking here?”
“Gone to change,” Lee said, “I'm keeping an eye on them.” He crossed back to the stove and checked the eggs again and decided they were done.
“Hang on a moment,” Doris said, she grabbed some plates from the cupboard and set them out on the counter. Lee carefully placed an egg on each plate.”
“Its ready is it? Joe said retuning.
Joe dished out the remainder of the breakfast.
“Smells wonderful dad,” Mary said.
“It does indeed,” Robert added.
The family sat to a delicious breakfast of; bacon, eggs, hash browns, baked beans, black pudding and toast. It smelt marvelous. Lee was about to dig straight in, but he waited for his grandfather to pour the drinks and until everybody else was ready. A chorus of appreciation went round the room, as everyone ate their breakfast.
“Every grandfather needs the opportunity to spoil his grandson – and I don't see mine often enough, have to catch up on the spoiling your dad's parents get to do on a regular basis.”
- - - - - - - - - - - -
As the car pulled up to the house Lee supposed that the breakfast hadn't been that special. He had dabbled in cooking himself from time to time, living the cliché and manning the barbecue in the summer, nevertheless it had still been appreciated. He stepped out of the car, walked up to his front door and unlocked it.
“Make yourselves at home,” he told them, “Hannah and I will bring your stuff in.”
“That's not necessary,” John said, “we'll...”
“We can do it don't worry.”
John surrendered to the idea and entered the house with his son and wife. Lee returned to the car, he swung Jake's rucksack onto his back and took one of the wheeled cases while Hannah brought the other one.
“Let me show you where you'll be sleeping.”
“Thank you,” Karen said, following her nephew up the stairs. She attempted to take the case from him but he insisted.
“Are you going to let me do anything while I'm here?” she asked, “help with the washing up for instance.”
“No,” Lee said, “this will be yours and John's room. Come Jake, let me show you your room.”
Lee, with Jake in tow, crossed the landing into another room. Lee placed Jake's bag on the floor and apologised for the slight mess the room was in.
“Redecorating?”
“Yeah,” Lee said, “been doing this a while now. Well I say 'we' mostly Hannah of course but it should be ready soon. When the patter of tiny feet comes along.”
“Congratulations,” Jake said.
“We aren't pregnant yet,” Lee smiled, “soon.”
“So what would your child be to me?”
“I don't know to be honest,” Lee said, “after a point those definitions get a little convoluted. Lets have some tea.”
Lee headed down the stairs to the kitchen where Hannah was lent against the thick wooden table in the center of the room. Lee smiled hearing the sound of boiling water from the kettle.
“Great minds think alike,” he said, “I was just coming to do that.” Lee ran his hand through Hannah's hair and kissed her, “Have I told you how much I miss you whilst away?”
“You've mentioned that,” she smiled, “I miss you too. Maybe you should get a shore posting.”
“I have to go where I'm sent,” Lee said, “I have considered resigning, so I could be with you.”
“You can't do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” Hannah said, “you've always wanted to captain your own ship. To have that responsibility. Your dream since you were twelve.”
“Dreams can sometimes change. I'm not saying that that isn't there any more but, you have to pick your battles. You can't be captain, see your family every day, play the...clarinet, paint a masterpiece and write a best-seller.”
“There must be someone who has done all those things.”
“I suppose,” Lee smiled weakly, “more and more I realise that being with my family is the most important thing. Maybe I'll buy a boat, be a captain of my own ship.”
“Whatever you decide I'll support,” Hannah said, “whatever makes you happy.”
“I love you,” he said kissing her. As he did so her hair changed to a grassy green, “cool, but you might want to keep that to a minimum while we have guests here.”
“I will,” she assured him, “just a couple more for the road.” The kettle had clicked off and Hannah levitated it and poured the boiling water into the awaiting tea pot. Lee added a jug of milk to the tray the old fashioned way. Hannah changed her hair colour back to red as they headed into the living room.
“I was just admiring the decoration in here,” Karen said, as they entered, she pointed to a piece of fabric hanging from the wall.
“Yes,” Hannah said, “Japanese calligraphy. We got them on holiday there a few years back.”
“What does it say?” Jake asked.
“That one is 'Sure Victory'” Hannah said, “roughly translated of course, “the other is 'Everlasting.'”
“There wonderful. Do you speak Japanese?”
“I guess you could say I dabble,” Hannah said, “not fluent thought.”
“Tea's ready,” Lee said.
As Lee poured the tea his mind went back once again to the breakfast with his grandparents. They had had a large green teapot. He remembered it well as his grandfather had trouble lifting the full pot. He hadn't drank tea at that time of his life and his eyes wondered back to his grandparent's living room. There were medals in a frame next to the picture of his grandfather and next to that another picture, black and white of a man in an army uniform. He looked proud in his hat and olive jacket. Lee inquired as to who it was.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
“My brother,” his granddad said, “he died in the war. That picture was taken shortly before his death.”
“Shall we pull the conversation back to something unwar related,” Lee's grandmother said.
“I'm afraid I have some other news in that regard,” Robert said, “I heard from Jack the other day He's just been promoted!”
“Major West,” Lee said delighted to here the news, “has a nice ring to it.”
“You still aiming for Commander West?” his grandmother asked. She had decided to surrender to the conversation.
“Yes. Where's he being stationed?”
“Don't remember, some where in Europe.”
“Speaking of family news,” Lee's grandmother began, dipping some bacon in her yolk. “We heard from Karen the other day. She just wanted to let us know that they'll be bringing Jake up for a few days.”
“Oh right!” Lee's mum said, “we'll have to go and see them sometime, if I can get the time. Haven't seen Karen in a while.
“Yeah,” Lee said, “I'd like to see my cousin again. So what are we doing today.”
“We're going for a walk.”
As he left the bedroom Lee put his hands in to a gun shape, darting round the corner, as if defending his position from and unseen enemy. One day he might have to do this for real. In that moment he wondered, would he make it in his career? Would he one day command a ship in the Royal Navy. He'd looked up all the information he could find, practiced the navy fitness test – he felt ready.
“Nearly ready?” his grandfather asked, and then seeing what he was doing contained in a feigned 'RAF' accent, “come on its time to fly!”
“Yes sir!” he said enthused. His grandfather's stories of RAF service were the stuff of family legend as far as Lee was concerned. Joe had served for many years and archiving the rank of Air Commodore. They waited on the landing while the others got ready.
“I wish you every success,” Joe said, “may you make lieutenant-commander by the time you're thirty.”
“I hope to,” Lee smiled.
“Let me be clear though,” Joe continued in earnest, “a military is, by definition, used for war. Those who choose to server have to face the possibility that one day they may be required to kill. I've shot plans down. Yes you can say it was in defense of one's country. However those people you fight are mealy the the instrument of the country you fight. Fighting for ones country is an honorable vocation – don't give into hate because...”
“That leads to the dark side?”
“Exactly,” Joe smiled, “fight with honor. I will say however that any war represents a failure. It is never desirable. It is important that good people join the armed serves, fight with honor and focus on what they see – never jumping to conclusions,” Joe took a thoughtful pause.
“We're ready,” Doris said, heading down the stairs.
“Be right there,” Joe told her. Turning back to his grandson he said, “I visited Berlin a couple of months ago, and met a man who was a Major in the Luftwaffe in '41. He fought in the Battle of Britain, dropped bombs on British cities. We're good friends now. The point is that people do not make war, governments do, Thomas Hardy said it best:
“Yes; quaint and curious war is!
You shoot a fellow down
You’d treat if met where any bar is,
Or help to half-a-crown.”
- - - - - - - - - - - -
The words of the poem hadn't meant much to Lee at that moment. As a teenage poetry was only experienced in a classroom. Now those worlds meant a great deal. They had been the ones on the plaque on his grandfather's mantelpiece. After his grandfather's death he had been given the plaque and placed it above his own fire place. Something had changed in him now, he wondered if the navy was still for him, he missed Hannah dearly whilst away. As he sat with his family and they talked he thought that he should remain here.
Wednesday 28 October 2009
Writer's Blog 2009-10-28
Great apologies!
As you will have noticed I missed an upload this week - okay so technically last week. However a chapter will be up shortly. I should warn you however of a slight problem. This is that, despite my plans, I have cough up with myself.
Thus one of two things may now happen.
Either:
The chapters will be a little rough and ready.
Or:
They may be a little delayed.
Like I say someting will be up in a little while.
Well just had another week at university. All is going well study wise, more or less. Some of the tutors seem to have quite narrow ideas of what can and cannot be done in this industry but mostly okay.
I say study wise as I am a writer with a contradictory problem. That is with communication. A writer is a sculptor of words. You lean by doing how two phrases that sound the same have radically different emphasis to them. The problem I have is girl related. Maybe she reads this blog I doubt it.
However life seems like a soup opera. Events conspire against me. Ever I chicken out, she is busy or I'm busy! Grrrr!
Any whoo, Chapter along in a few moments.
As you will have noticed I missed an upload this week - okay so technically last week. However a chapter will be up shortly. I should warn you however of a slight problem. This is that, despite my plans, I have cough up with myself.
Thus one of two things may now happen.
Either:
The chapters will be a little rough and ready.
Or:
They may be a little delayed.
Like I say someting will be up in a little while.
Well just had another week at university. All is going well study wise, more or less. Some of the tutors seem to have quite narrow ideas of what can and cannot be done in this industry but mostly okay.
I say study wise as I am a writer with a contradictory problem. That is with communication. A writer is a sculptor of words. You lean by doing how two phrases that sound the same have radically different emphasis to them. The problem I have is girl related. Maybe she reads this blog I doubt it.
However life seems like a soup opera. Events conspire against me. Ever I chicken out, she is busy or I'm busy! Grrrr!
Any whoo, Chapter along in a few moments.
Monday 19 October 2009
Rolling Shadows - Chapter 13
Stacy Tanner awoke before her alarm. This was a rare event, normally the alarm's snooze had to be pressed at least twice. She had never been late for school though. She was determined however that she would not get up until the alarm went off, those three of so minutes in bed would be worth it. She sighed as she considered the day's events, but soon it would all be over. In theory there might never be an exam again. No, that was just wishful thinking. University would have exams, but it was a nice thought. The one thing that was for sure was that this summer would be excellent. There couldn't possibly be any school work to do. Though given the tenacity of some of her teachers she wouldn't have been that surprised if they'd set homework anyway – or that a university professor would have pre-empted her arrival. She smiled at that thought and chuckled briefly.
“Come on you stupid alarm!” she said.
“You can get up without it,” her mother called from outside.
“Never!” she called laughingly.
The alarm clock beeped and, with a sigh, Stacy swung her legs over the edge of the bed and got to her feet. Her mother was folding the washing and placing it in the draws of her white dresser.
“Last exam,” her mother said.
“Yes,” Stacy said, “then freedom.”
“No,” her mum said, “then housework.”
Stacy raised her eyebrows.
“Only joking.”
“Well I will help of course. Need some free time.”
“Of course,” her mum said, “but becoming more independent is a good thing.”
“I agree,” Stacy said smilingly, “now I should go, change into something less comfortable.”
“You could go like that,” her mum said, “of course all the boys would fail.”
“Mother!” Stacy exclaimed.
Stacy returned to her room, folded her smiling monkey pyjamas and placed them on the bed. She combed her red red hair while standing in front of the mirror. Once she was satisfied she headed down the stairs for a quick breakfast before she began her revision.
“Probably for the best,” her mother said as Stacy entered the kitchen.
“What?” smiled Stacy as she took a box cereal from the cupboard.
“Better than you pyjamas.”
“I thought so.”
“Though still enough for the boys to fail.”
“I wearing jeans and a t-shirt!” Stacy said, “what's put you in such a strange mood?”
“Mother's prerogative.”
Stacy gave her mother a laughing smile as she took the milk from the fridge, “when is dad due back?”
“Later today. They're just tying up the last few loose ends.”
“He'll be home in time for my freedom,” Stacy placed the milk back in the fridge and headed into the front room. Sitting on the sofa, her breakfast on a tray, Stacy reached for the universal remote and switched on the television.
“What's on?” her mum asked, coming in with her toast.
“DVD?”
“Don't tempt me. Don't you want to do some revision?”
“Of course. But I've done lots and there is plenty of time for that.”
“Okay,” her mum smiled.
As the credits rolled Stacy returned her tray to the kitchen, placed her bowl in the dishwasher and decided to make a start – or rather a finish – her revision. She had been through these books so much she could hardly count. Of course a lot of the information would be completely irrelevant. She quickly found she couldn't just sit their and concentrate. So she took the page she was reading and walked the length of the house. The movement seemed to help it gave her a distraction, rather than just thinking about the exam.
Rupert O'Brien stepped off the number 24 bus as it arrived in the center of town. He told the driver thank you and headed away from the stop, in the opposite direction to the shoppers. He passed the large hotel who's residents were enjoying a hearty breakfast, served by trim and well presented waiters. Passing a bar he turned the corner to his office building. Outside, even at this early time, their were people smoking. He tried not to show his sensory or mental disapproval and thought that free will was somewhat overrated.
“Morning Doug,” he said to the security officer as he signed in.
“Morning,” Doug said, looking only briefly up from his newspaper. Rupert wondered if a security breach would be noticed, as Doug always seemed more interested in his paper than the security screens in front of him. Rupert moved over the the lifts and pressed the call button.
The lift opened on the fifth floor and Rupert entered his offices.
“Morning Branwen,” he smiled at the young woman behind the desk.
“Good morning Rupert,” she said.
“Have you received a call from a Mr Wood?”
“Not yet,” Branwen said, “I could call him, do you have his number?”
“Its all right. I'll make the call. You have the interview schedule for today?”
“Yes.” She searched through the papers on the desk and handed him a sheet.
“Thanks,” he headed into his office, just before he closed the door he said, “Facebook is okay, just remember the job.”
“How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
Rupert placed his umbrella on the stand in his office and draped his jacket over the back of his chair. He took a look at the interview schedule that had been drawn up, the first person was due to arrive in just a few minutes.
Sure enough five minutes later Branwen knocked at the door, “your first applicant is here.”
“Send them in.” Branwen moved aside to admit a young man.
“I'm Rupert O'Brien,” Rupert said, reaching to shake the man's hand.
“Jeffrey Wingfield,” he said.
Rupert smiled and sat, indicating of Jeffrey to do the same, “that's what it says here,” he looked at the sheet Branwen had given him, “so right person, right place, right time. This is a good beginning. I'll begin by telling you a little bit about us as a company.”
As lunch time came around Stacy stopped her revision. With the exam looming ever closer she knew that nothing more was going to sink in. She had been told, on more than one occasion, that a last minute read through was often pointless. She had never found this to be the case. In fact when she sat her GCSEs she had been revising a mathematical formula in those last minutes, repeating it in her head over and over and wrote it down as soon as the invigilator started the exam. Trying to keep calm she ate her lunch, a tuna sandwich, in slow bites.
Though she still had some time before the exam she decide to leave sooner rather than hanging around until the time she absolutely had to leave. Once walking she became slightly less nervous and waved to her mother as she left the street.
Donald Tanner sighed. The meeting was already running long and the computer had crashed. It had crashed right in the middle of a totally uninteresting presentation but lunch would not happen until the meeting was finished. At the head of the table the man who had been giving the presentation apologized to the group and started to look intently at the offending laptop.
“So much for the efficiency of the system,” a woman next to Donald lent in to whisper to him.
“Indeed,” Donald said, reading her name tag, Natalie, it said.
“Of course its not their software that's at fault.”
“Probably not,” Natalie said, “you know the more I work with computers the more I start to appreciate pen and paper.”
“I know what you mean. I'm working my way back to quills and ink.”
Natalie laughed with a nod. There were now two people stood by the computer. The first, who's computer it was, looked about ready to throw it out the window. “The work we could be doing if we weren't here.” Natalie said.
“Tell me about it,” Donald said, “I remember school assemblies. Sometimes we'd be called in, on short notice, something bad had happened. Then the teacher giving the assembly would say, in no uncertain terms, 'Put your energies in to revising!'”
“I know exactly what you mean,” said Natalie, “had the same thing at my school. I remember thinking. I would be revising if I wasn't here!”
“Excuse me,” Donald said, standing up. He looked to the two men by the computer, “do you mind if I just made a quick phone call.”
“Go ahead,” James, who's computer it was said, “you could probably dictate Hamlet in the time this is taking.”
Leaving the office Donald took his phone from his pocket and pressed the third speed dial. The phone only rang for a few moments before a small voice answered, “hi dad.”
“How you doing?”
“Okay. Got some revision done this morning. I think I'll do okay.”
“I'm sure you will. We are still going out for that meal no matter what.”
“Sounds great.”
“Good luck kiddo.”
“Thanks dad.”
“Bye.”
“Bye,” Donald hung and came back in. The computer was still not behaving. “Shall I give my presentation while we wait.”
“Good idea,” James said.
Donald came to the front of the room, brushed down his suite and stood at the head of the table. He had with him a folder from which he took several sheets of paper. The small talk that had begun with the computer failure died down and soon Donald had the attention of those assembled before him.
“Thank you,” he began, “as the computer has kindly illustrated, computers are not always the answer. Since technology became a part of every day life we have incorporated them so much that it is difficult to imagine that once there were no computers. Some people of course manage perfectly well without them. Which might be difficult for those in our profession to get to grips with. Imagine for instance the staff at Morrisons having to add everything up in their heads. Nevertheless managing without computers is something that we should consider. Not simply as a backup but that a pen and paper may be more appropriate to the job. The other day I saw a Dickens adaptation on DVD. In that there was a law firm, they had huge stacks of paper work, packed to the ceiling. Can you imagine trying to run such a firm without a computer? Well before someone cries, 'Get to the point' allow me too...”
Stacy arrived outside the school gym, where the exam would be held. Some people, she was surprised to see, were completely relaxed about the whole thing. The teacher came to the door and quickly told them the rules of an exam room. This was completely redundant. This was the last exam on the last day of exams. Everyone had been sitting exams over the previous fortnight and knew the drill. Nevertheless it was probable that some would try to sneak a note into the room. Stacy ensured her mobile was off, took her pens from her bag and left it with her coat at the back of the room.
The students were sat in rows on the single seater desks. The ones that only came out for exams, the ones that were scrolled in graffiti. Stacy read a couple of them: 'good luck dude', 'I am so going to fail', 'maths sucks' their were also rude comments and the occupational someone'4'someone else. Meanwhile the register was being called.
“Here,” the girl behind Stacy called.
“Yes sir,” Stacy said confirming her presence.
Once the register was called the teacher reminded them of the importance of silence while he passed out the examination papers. Once everyone had theirs they were told to put their names and student numbers on the paper. The teacher checked his watch and the exam had begun.
“A very interesting tour,” Jeffrey Wingfield said as he left the store cupboard.
“Most of our work of course happens in the field,” Rupert said, “do you think you'd be interested?”
“Of course,” Jeffrey said, “it is most exciting. I'm still a little fuzzy on how you came up with my name.”
“Ah,” Rupert said, closing the cupboard door, “we have our ways. Would you like to start next Monday?”
“That would be fantastic,” Jeffrey said, hoping he didn't sound too enthusiastic.
Mr Vaughan walked down the line of desks his head moving from side-to-side like a security camera. Stacy noticed his long hooked noise and stern expression. He had never been one of her teachers but was a teacher with something of a reputation within the school. The type of teacher that could control any class effortlessly. Mr Vaughan came to the front of the gym, checked his watch and said, “ten minutes remaining.” His voice was calm as if he didn't know the panic that those words would instill for many in the room.
Stacy felt only a little rushed. Examination rooms seemed to have a strange effect on clocks. To some it was as if the seconds were extended to minutes – and it still not be enough time. To others it seemed to tick round faster than usual. Time was not so much on Stacy's mind as having lost her train of thought. She attempted to squeeze the last pieces of information from her brain. The paper seemed to be staring at her, there was something more to write, she was sure. It was only that she couldn't bring the thoughts to the forefront of her mind, to express them on the paper. Thinking of loosing her train of thought hadn't helped either. Images of platforms, trains and rushing landscapes filled her mind. It wasn't surprising though that she had this preoccupation. Only yesterday her boyfriend had taken a train to visit his cousin in Carlisle.
“No,” she told herself in a forceful whisper, “you can do this!” She had another flash of inspiration and wrote another addendum to her essay.
“One minute to go,” Mr Vaughan said.
Madly the room's population scribbled. People read their pages. Flipping through them. Checking every morsel of information. Some were ready, counting down in their heads. Then Mr Vaughan announced, “put you pens down and wait till all exam papers have been collect before talking.”
As the last paper was collected everyone, even the teachers, seemed to sigh. It was as if the room bulged with the extra air. Talking started at once.
“I think it went okay,” Stacy said, turning to the girl behind her, “You?”
“Okay,” the girl said offhandedly. Her name was Eleanor Taggart, by virtue of the alphabet they were seated together. There was another scrapping of chairs as another row was dismissed. Stacy waited impatiently for her row to be dismissed. Mr Vaughan nodded his head to their row and they scrapped their chairs, grabbed their bags and left the room.
“Fantastic!” she said aloud as soon as she stepped outside. She had barely walked ten meters before she jumped.
“How'd it go.”
She recognized the voice instantly, it belonged to Tina Hilton, who had been waiting just outside the school gates. Tina had swarthy skin and curly black hair that hung over her shoulders, she had a beautiful smile.
“Fine,” Stacy said, “just fine,” Stacy felt like leaping in the air.
The school was on a road with a group of shops. Stacy and Tina walked along past the shops heading to the café. They went through to the back and sat on a table for two. Perusing the menu they ordered, Stacy a bacon sandwich and Tina a cheese and pickle baguette.
“So,” Stacy said, “had a good day?”
“Yes,” Tina said, “got up late, read, played on my sister's wii then meandered to the village,” as she said 'meandered' she mimicked a slow walking motion with her index and middle finger.
“You're really enjoying having finished before me aren't you?”
“Hell yes,” Tina smiled, “I'm really looking forward to this evening as well.”
“Sorry the rest of us kept you waiting.”
“Well I thought about arranging a get together the weekend after my last exam, it seemed a little churlish to celebrate something that was only for me. Tonight will be fun though. Sorry it means that Jake can't make it.”
“That's okay,” Stacy said, “its almost impossible to come up with a time when everyone is available.”
“True.” Tina said, “thank you.” The server arrived and placed their drinks in front of them.
“You're welcome,” the server simply smiled, actually she curled her lips.
“By the way,” Stacy asked, “how are things going with the job search?”
“Not really trying yet. Mum says it would be a good idea to have a proper holiday first.”
“You do seem to have a problem with relaxation.”
“Suppose I do.”
“Come on you stupid alarm!” she said.
“You can get up without it,” her mother called from outside.
“Never!” she called laughingly.
The alarm clock beeped and, with a sigh, Stacy swung her legs over the edge of the bed and got to her feet. Her mother was folding the washing and placing it in the draws of her white dresser.
“Last exam,” her mother said.
“Yes,” Stacy said, “then freedom.”
“No,” her mum said, “then housework.”
Stacy raised her eyebrows.
“Only joking.”
“Well I will help of course. Need some free time.”
“Of course,” her mum said, “but becoming more independent is a good thing.”
“I agree,” Stacy said smilingly, “now I should go, change into something less comfortable.”
“You could go like that,” her mum said, “of course all the boys would fail.”
“Mother!” Stacy exclaimed.
Stacy returned to her room, folded her smiling monkey pyjamas and placed them on the bed. She combed her red red hair while standing in front of the mirror. Once she was satisfied she headed down the stairs for a quick breakfast before she began her revision.
“Probably for the best,” her mother said as Stacy entered the kitchen.
“What?” smiled Stacy as she took a box cereal from the cupboard.
“Better than you pyjamas.”
“I thought so.”
“Though still enough for the boys to fail.”
“I wearing jeans and a t-shirt!” Stacy said, “what's put you in such a strange mood?”
“Mother's prerogative.”
Stacy gave her mother a laughing smile as she took the milk from the fridge, “when is dad due back?”
“Later today. They're just tying up the last few loose ends.”
“He'll be home in time for my freedom,” Stacy placed the milk back in the fridge and headed into the front room. Sitting on the sofa, her breakfast on a tray, Stacy reached for the universal remote and switched on the television.
“What's on?” her mum asked, coming in with her toast.
“DVD?”
“Don't tempt me. Don't you want to do some revision?”
“Of course. But I've done lots and there is plenty of time for that.”
“Okay,” her mum smiled.
As the credits rolled Stacy returned her tray to the kitchen, placed her bowl in the dishwasher and decided to make a start – or rather a finish – her revision. She had been through these books so much she could hardly count. Of course a lot of the information would be completely irrelevant. She quickly found she couldn't just sit their and concentrate. So she took the page she was reading and walked the length of the house. The movement seemed to help it gave her a distraction, rather than just thinking about the exam.
Rupert O'Brien stepped off the number 24 bus as it arrived in the center of town. He told the driver thank you and headed away from the stop, in the opposite direction to the shoppers. He passed the large hotel who's residents were enjoying a hearty breakfast, served by trim and well presented waiters. Passing a bar he turned the corner to his office building. Outside, even at this early time, their were people smoking. He tried not to show his sensory or mental disapproval and thought that free will was somewhat overrated.
“Morning Doug,” he said to the security officer as he signed in.
“Morning,” Doug said, looking only briefly up from his newspaper. Rupert wondered if a security breach would be noticed, as Doug always seemed more interested in his paper than the security screens in front of him. Rupert moved over the the lifts and pressed the call button.
The lift opened on the fifth floor and Rupert entered his offices.
“Morning Branwen,” he smiled at the young woman behind the desk.
“Good morning Rupert,” she said.
“Have you received a call from a Mr Wood?”
“Not yet,” Branwen said, “I could call him, do you have his number?”
“Its all right. I'll make the call. You have the interview schedule for today?”
“Yes.” She searched through the papers on the desk and handed him a sheet.
“Thanks,” he headed into his office, just before he closed the door he said, “Facebook is okay, just remember the job.”
“How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
Rupert placed his umbrella on the stand in his office and draped his jacket over the back of his chair. He took a look at the interview schedule that had been drawn up, the first person was due to arrive in just a few minutes.
Sure enough five minutes later Branwen knocked at the door, “your first applicant is here.”
“Send them in.” Branwen moved aside to admit a young man.
“I'm Rupert O'Brien,” Rupert said, reaching to shake the man's hand.
“Jeffrey Wingfield,” he said.
Rupert smiled and sat, indicating of Jeffrey to do the same, “that's what it says here,” he looked at the sheet Branwen had given him, “so right person, right place, right time. This is a good beginning. I'll begin by telling you a little bit about us as a company.”
As lunch time came around Stacy stopped her revision. With the exam looming ever closer she knew that nothing more was going to sink in. She had been told, on more than one occasion, that a last minute read through was often pointless. She had never found this to be the case. In fact when she sat her GCSEs she had been revising a mathematical formula in those last minutes, repeating it in her head over and over and wrote it down as soon as the invigilator started the exam. Trying to keep calm she ate her lunch, a tuna sandwich, in slow bites.
Though she still had some time before the exam she decide to leave sooner rather than hanging around until the time she absolutely had to leave. Once walking she became slightly less nervous and waved to her mother as she left the street.
Donald Tanner sighed. The meeting was already running long and the computer had crashed. It had crashed right in the middle of a totally uninteresting presentation but lunch would not happen until the meeting was finished. At the head of the table the man who had been giving the presentation apologized to the group and started to look intently at the offending laptop.
“So much for the efficiency of the system,” a woman next to Donald lent in to whisper to him.
“Indeed,” Donald said, reading her name tag, Natalie, it said.
“Of course its not their software that's at fault.”
“Probably not,” Natalie said, “you know the more I work with computers the more I start to appreciate pen and paper.”
“I know what you mean. I'm working my way back to quills and ink.”
Natalie laughed with a nod. There were now two people stood by the computer. The first, who's computer it was, looked about ready to throw it out the window. “The work we could be doing if we weren't here.” Natalie said.
“Tell me about it,” Donald said, “I remember school assemblies. Sometimes we'd be called in, on short notice, something bad had happened. Then the teacher giving the assembly would say, in no uncertain terms, 'Put your energies in to revising!'”
“I know exactly what you mean,” said Natalie, “had the same thing at my school. I remember thinking. I would be revising if I wasn't here!”
“Excuse me,” Donald said, standing up. He looked to the two men by the computer, “do you mind if I just made a quick phone call.”
“Go ahead,” James, who's computer it was said, “you could probably dictate Hamlet in the time this is taking.”
Leaving the office Donald took his phone from his pocket and pressed the third speed dial. The phone only rang for a few moments before a small voice answered, “hi dad.”
“How you doing?”
“Okay. Got some revision done this morning. I think I'll do okay.”
“I'm sure you will. We are still going out for that meal no matter what.”
“Sounds great.”
“Good luck kiddo.”
“Thanks dad.”
“Bye.”
“Bye,” Donald hung and came back in. The computer was still not behaving. “Shall I give my presentation while we wait.”
“Good idea,” James said.
Donald came to the front of the room, brushed down his suite and stood at the head of the table. He had with him a folder from which he took several sheets of paper. The small talk that had begun with the computer failure died down and soon Donald had the attention of those assembled before him.
“Thank you,” he began, “as the computer has kindly illustrated, computers are not always the answer. Since technology became a part of every day life we have incorporated them so much that it is difficult to imagine that once there were no computers. Some people of course manage perfectly well without them. Which might be difficult for those in our profession to get to grips with. Imagine for instance the staff at Morrisons having to add everything up in their heads. Nevertheless managing without computers is something that we should consider. Not simply as a backup but that a pen and paper may be more appropriate to the job. The other day I saw a Dickens adaptation on DVD. In that there was a law firm, they had huge stacks of paper work, packed to the ceiling. Can you imagine trying to run such a firm without a computer? Well before someone cries, 'Get to the point' allow me too...”
Stacy arrived outside the school gym, where the exam would be held. Some people, she was surprised to see, were completely relaxed about the whole thing. The teacher came to the door and quickly told them the rules of an exam room. This was completely redundant. This was the last exam on the last day of exams. Everyone had been sitting exams over the previous fortnight and knew the drill. Nevertheless it was probable that some would try to sneak a note into the room. Stacy ensured her mobile was off, took her pens from her bag and left it with her coat at the back of the room.
The students were sat in rows on the single seater desks. The ones that only came out for exams, the ones that were scrolled in graffiti. Stacy read a couple of them: 'good luck dude', 'I am so going to fail', 'maths sucks' their were also rude comments and the occupational someone'4'someone else. Meanwhile the register was being called.
“Here,” the girl behind Stacy called.
“Yes sir,” Stacy said confirming her presence.
Once the register was called the teacher reminded them of the importance of silence while he passed out the examination papers. Once everyone had theirs they were told to put their names and student numbers on the paper. The teacher checked his watch and the exam had begun.
“A very interesting tour,” Jeffrey Wingfield said as he left the store cupboard.
“Most of our work of course happens in the field,” Rupert said, “do you think you'd be interested?”
“Of course,” Jeffrey said, “it is most exciting. I'm still a little fuzzy on how you came up with my name.”
“Ah,” Rupert said, closing the cupboard door, “we have our ways. Would you like to start next Monday?”
“That would be fantastic,” Jeffrey said, hoping he didn't sound too enthusiastic.
Mr Vaughan walked down the line of desks his head moving from side-to-side like a security camera. Stacy noticed his long hooked noise and stern expression. He had never been one of her teachers but was a teacher with something of a reputation within the school. The type of teacher that could control any class effortlessly. Mr Vaughan came to the front of the gym, checked his watch and said, “ten minutes remaining.” His voice was calm as if he didn't know the panic that those words would instill for many in the room.
Stacy felt only a little rushed. Examination rooms seemed to have a strange effect on clocks. To some it was as if the seconds were extended to minutes – and it still not be enough time. To others it seemed to tick round faster than usual. Time was not so much on Stacy's mind as having lost her train of thought. She attempted to squeeze the last pieces of information from her brain. The paper seemed to be staring at her, there was something more to write, she was sure. It was only that she couldn't bring the thoughts to the forefront of her mind, to express them on the paper. Thinking of loosing her train of thought hadn't helped either. Images of platforms, trains and rushing landscapes filled her mind. It wasn't surprising though that she had this preoccupation. Only yesterday her boyfriend had taken a train to visit his cousin in Carlisle.
“No,” she told herself in a forceful whisper, “you can do this!” She had another flash of inspiration and wrote another addendum to her essay.
“One minute to go,” Mr Vaughan said.
Madly the room's population scribbled. People read their pages. Flipping through them. Checking every morsel of information. Some were ready, counting down in their heads. Then Mr Vaughan announced, “put you pens down and wait till all exam papers have been collect before talking.”
As the last paper was collected everyone, even the teachers, seemed to sigh. It was as if the room bulged with the extra air. Talking started at once.
“I think it went okay,” Stacy said, turning to the girl behind her, “You?”
“Okay,” the girl said offhandedly. Her name was Eleanor Taggart, by virtue of the alphabet they were seated together. There was another scrapping of chairs as another row was dismissed. Stacy waited impatiently for her row to be dismissed. Mr Vaughan nodded his head to their row and they scrapped their chairs, grabbed their bags and left the room.
“Fantastic!” she said aloud as soon as she stepped outside. She had barely walked ten meters before she jumped.
“How'd it go.”
She recognized the voice instantly, it belonged to Tina Hilton, who had been waiting just outside the school gates. Tina had swarthy skin and curly black hair that hung over her shoulders, she had a beautiful smile.
“Fine,” Stacy said, “just fine,” Stacy felt like leaping in the air.
The school was on a road with a group of shops. Stacy and Tina walked along past the shops heading to the café. They went through to the back and sat on a table for two. Perusing the menu they ordered, Stacy a bacon sandwich and Tina a cheese and pickle baguette.
“So,” Stacy said, “had a good day?”
“Yes,” Tina said, “got up late, read, played on my sister's wii then meandered to the village,” as she said 'meandered' she mimicked a slow walking motion with her index and middle finger.
“You're really enjoying having finished before me aren't you?”
“Hell yes,” Tina smiled, “I'm really looking forward to this evening as well.”
“Sorry the rest of us kept you waiting.”
“Well I thought about arranging a get together the weekend after my last exam, it seemed a little churlish to celebrate something that was only for me. Tonight will be fun though. Sorry it means that Jake can't make it.”
“That's okay,” Stacy said, “its almost impossible to come up with a time when everyone is available.”
“True.” Tina said, “thank you.” The server arrived and placed their drinks in front of them.
“You're welcome,” the server simply smiled, actually she curled her lips.
“By the way,” Stacy asked, “how are things going with the job search?”
“Not really trying yet. Mum says it would be a good idea to have a proper holiday first.”
“You do seem to have a problem with relaxation.”
“Suppose I do.”
Sunday 11 October 2009
Rolling Shadows - Chapter 12
Tha'lif was wide eyed and walked smilingly on. She felt like a child who had been told that they where too young to ride a staff – so had studied extensively and now she was finally going to get to fly. The legends of the spirits where vague but she proceeded fearlessly along the dark cave, which soon opened into a dark chamber.
“They must be in there,” Tha'lif said pointing. They stopped just before the threshold of the chamber. It was shaped like a hive.
“Any ritual or procedure that we need to be aware of?”
“No,” Tha'lif answered Cassy's question, “I doubt that they'll even notice us – even if we came in shouting.” Tha'lif took the first steps into the chamber. Their where shelves positioned in all the indents of the walls. On the shelves were bottles, vases and boxes of bright colours, reds, purples and golds. Dispute being within a mountain their was still light in the room which shone off the shimmering vessels.
“They live within,” Tha'lif explained, “in those vassals they have their own world.” Despite her comments about shouting, Tha'lif spoke quietly, it felt as though it was only proper in such a place. “At least that is what is said. The world within is devised by their own imagination, or perhaps that of another. They can live any life, do any thing that their imagination can conceive. This is the reason why they have been difficult to speak with.” Tha'lif stopped once they had completed a circuit of the room. She walked into the center, which was marked with a red circle on the floor.
“I'm not sure I understand,” Cassy said, “play is integral to all sapient species. Non-sapient species play as well. Some of our ships have been known to attract sea creatures, they dive and, what you might call dance, around the ships. It would be considered play – not that I'm an expert. Nevertheless those species wouldn't neglect their requirements to live. Why is it different for the spirits?”
“Well,” Tha'lif said, now standing in the exact center of the room, “they do not live in time with us. It looks like they are slow to respond to the outside observer. It is their weakness. The real world need not concern them. They are stagnant society.”
Cassy nodded, “so how do we get their attention?”
“I am Tha'lif,” Tha'lif called to the room by way of a response. "As was prophesied by the centaurs with have come to seek you. We need your help. Please understand. You may blink and think it a moment but in that time a generation has passed. Wake from your slumber please and see time as we do. It cannot wait a century,” she stepped out of the circle holding her palms out, the equivalent of a shrug, she stepped out of the circle.
“This could take a hundred years?”
“A second in their reckoning, less.”
“Do we really need them?” La'ingif asked.
“We still don't know all the facts about the scroll you found,” Cassy said, “the manticores may soon overwhelm us.“
“We can't exactly return to the old home and ask for help.”
“We would be turned away,” said Tha'lif, “just like the Thell'frane.”
Suddenly at the apex of the room they saw a brown mist begin to float down towards them. It swirled around and became a pair of simple cloth boots. Above these were thick trousers, a brown tunic above which was a crude leather jacket. The mist seemed solid now, it had become an elf-like form. It wore a helmet that covered much of its face. Strangely it had hair, not just on the top of its head but also on the face itself. It, the man, carried a shield on his back and a sword sheathed on his belt.
“I am Thor,” came a booming voice, it cased the bottles and vase to rattle, “who dares disturb us?”
Tha'lif swallowed, but managed to give a defiant answer, “you need disturbing,” she even managed to raise her voice slightly at the end.
“We,” Thor rumbled, about to object. Instead he conjured himself a chair and sat down. Tha'lif thought this a rather odd thing, firstly he couldn't possibly be tired and secondly being seated probably made no difference, therefore it was a symbolic gesture. He scratched at his rough chin, frowned, sighed and looked Tha'lif in the eye, “you talk boldly for someone so young.”
Tha'lif opened her mouth, before she could think up a well worded apology Thor continued.
“I like it,” he smiled, “better than the groveling we usually get.”
'Usually,' Cassy mouthed to La'ingif, she wondered how often something had to be, to be considered usually amongst these people.
“What do you need?” Thor asked.
“The manticores are threatening us. We need your help.”
“That,” he said pointedly, “is a matter for you and your kin. Those who were seduced my magic.” He had now settled to a more sensible volume level, despite his answer being, apparently no, he still remained.
“Those of our kin are no longer in control. The Dark Ones were killed by their slaves.”
“The manticores are simply beasts, they will not control the empire well. Give it time.”
Tha'lif was now having trouble keeping her tone in check, “the incident I speak of happened over one and a half thousand years ago."
"A time not worthy of mention.”
“Perhaps not to you,” she said, then looking round the room she continued, “don't any of you understand we are different. Sunrise to sunset is a day for us, it is significant we have, maybe a hundred and forty thousand days, not the great expanse of time you have. “ There was silence. Thor however looked like he was considering the request. “To do what you ask would be exceedingly difficult. We cannot work on you're plain of existence. Like you trying to assist an insect with a construction job – it is too delicate work.”
“The the choice left to us,” came another voice, this one distinctly female, “is to give them the power to help themselves.” The three elves looked upwards to localize the voice. More mist began to descend from high above, this time white. It formed in to the shape of a beautiful woman. Her hair was long, thick and black. She wore, what seemed to be, a single piece of white fabric – though spirits didn't wear anything in the literal sense – it was in fact party of her. The fabric was draped into a gown that covered one leg, swathed across the body and covered on shoulder. Her skin had a strange reddish-pink completion and her ears were smooth rather than pointed.
“I am Pandora,” she said, now that she was fully formed.
“What,” Tha'lif began, “how did you come up with the form that you now employ?”
“This is the form of the humans.” Pandora said.
“They were spoken of in the scroll we found.”
“Do you have it with you?”
“Yes,” Tha'lif said, producing it from the bag, “it is now in original form, we of course used a translation spell.”
“Yes of course,” Pandora said as she took the scroll, “this is strange.”
“What is?”
“Well the language reads similarly to one of the human languages. It is different though. Yet we are aware of all of their languages. At least I thought we were.”
“Language can change greatly over time.”
“True.”
“So how is it you know the humans?” Tha'lif asked.
“We have had some sporadic contact with them,” Pandora said.
“Yes indeed,” said Thor, “many of us have visited them. We planned to simply be guides, but they do not understand magic and they believed us to be gods. The lack of understanding lead to wars being fought. Each one of us taught in the way that worked for the particular culture, and many of those cultures thought their way was the only way. Suffice it to say, we no longer visit them.”
“We can help you,” Pandora said, “give you what you need,” she floated up to a high shelf and brought down a box.
“In here is the oldest of us that exists on this planet. Zeus. He is nearing the end of his life and it is only at this time that many of us realize the error of our existence. He has hardly seen this world, living instead in the perfect world of of his own imagination. Some humans describe it as the god realm – never achieving anything, because there is always another day...until, somehow suddenly there isn't.”
Pandora whispered to the box. A weak, croaky voice was heard.
“The reason for their difficulties in fighting manticores is that the Fauns cannot match their power. If they could, they would be able to offer better resistance. This will be my destiny, to finally give something to the world. I hope that there is another existence beyond this one, so that the next few million years is better spent. Release me!”
Pandora opened the box. The mist of Zeus permeated throughout the cave. It headed out the way the elves had come, crossed the sea to the Fauns, rifled through the caves of the Dwarf countries and spread through the Centaur kingdom.
“It is done,” Pandora said, “the magic of Zeus has permeated the world – this one and that of the humans. It will effect each race differently. None shall be as natural as the elves with magic. The Fauns are already starting to free themselves and they will require your help.”
“They must be in there,” Tha'lif said pointing. They stopped just before the threshold of the chamber. It was shaped like a hive.
“Any ritual or procedure that we need to be aware of?”
“No,” Tha'lif answered Cassy's question, “I doubt that they'll even notice us – even if we came in shouting.” Tha'lif took the first steps into the chamber. Their where shelves positioned in all the indents of the walls. On the shelves were bottles, vases and boxes of bright colours, reds, purples and golds. Dispute being within a mountain their was still light in the room which shone off the shimmering vessels.
“They live within,” Tha'lif explained, “in those vassals they have their own world.” Despite her comments about shouting, Tha'lif spoke quietly, it felt as though it was only proper in such a place. “At least that is what is said. The world within is devised by their own imagination, or perhaps that of another. They can live any life, do any thing that their imagination can conceive. This is the reason why they have been difficult to speak with.” Tha'lif stopped once they had completed a circuit of the room. She walked into the center, which was marked with a red circle on the floor.
“I'm not sure I understand,” Cassy said, “play is integral to all sapient species. Non-sapient species play as well. Some of our ships have been known to attract sea creatures, they dive and, what you might call dance, around the ships. It would be considered play – not that I'm an expert. Nevertheless those species wouldn't neglect their requirements to live. Why is it different for the spirits?”
“Well,” Tha'lif said, now standing in the exact center of the room, “they do not live in time with us. It looks like they are slow to respond to the outside observer. It is their weakness. The real world need not concern them. They are stagnant society.”
Cassy nodded, “so how do we get their attention?”
“I am Tha'lif,” Tha'lif called to the room by way of a response. "As was prophesied by the centaurs with have come to seek you. We need your help. Please understand. You may blink and think it a moment but in that time a generation has passed. Wake from your slumber please and see time as we do. It cannot wait a century,” she stepped out of the circle holding her palms out, the equivalent of a shrug, she stepped out of the circle.
“This could take a hundred years?”
“A second in their reckoning, less.”
“Do we really need them?” La'ingif asked.
“We still don't know all the facts about the scroll you found,” Cassy said, “the manticores may soon overwhelm us.“
“We can't exactly return to the old home and ask for help.”
“We would be turned away,” said Tha'lif, “just like the Thell'frane.”
Suddenly at the apex of the room they saw a brown mist begin to float down towards them. It swirled around and became a pair of simple cloth boots. Above these were thick trousers, a brown tunic above which was a crude leather jacket. The mist seemed solid now, it had become an elf-like form. It wore a helmet that covered much of its face. Strangely it had hair, not just on the top of its head but also on the face itself. It, the man, carried a shield on his back and a sword sheathed on his belt.
“I am Thor,” came a booming voice, it cased the bottles and vase to rattle, “who dares disturb us?”
Tha'lif swallowed, but managed to give a defiant answer, “you need disturbing,” she even managed to raise her voice slightly at the end.
“We,” Thor rumbled, about to object. Instead he conjured himself a chair and sat down. Tha'lif thought this a rather odd thing, firstly he couldn't possibly be tired and secondly being seated probably made no difference, therefore it was a symbolic gesture. He scratched at his rough chin, frowned, sighed and looked Tha'lif in the eye, “you talk boldly for someone so young.”
Tha'lif opened her mouth, before she could think up a well worded apology Thor continued.
“I like it,” he smiled, “better than the groveling we usually get.”
'Usually,' Cassy mouthed to La'ingif, she wondered how often something had to be, to be considered usually amongst these people.
“What do you need?” Thor asked.
“The manticores are threatening us. We need your help.”
“That,” he said pointedly, “is a matter for you and your kin. Those who were seduced my magic.” He had now settled to a more sensible volume level, despite his answer being, apparently no, he still remained.
“Those of our kin are no longer in control. The Dark Ones were killed by their slaves.”
“The manticores are simply beasts, they will not control the empire well. Give it time.”
Tha'lif was now having trouble keeping her tone in check, “the incident I speak of happened over one and a half thousand years ago."
"A time not worthy of mention.”
“Perhaps not to you,” she said, then looking round the room she continued, “don't any of you understand we are different. Sunrise to sunset is a day for us, it is significant we have, maybe a hundred and forty thousand days, not the great expanse of time you have. “ There was silence. Thor however looked like he was considering the request. “To do what you ask would be exceedingly difficult. We cannot work on you're plain of existence. Like you trying to assist an insect with a construction job – it is too delicate work.”
“The the choice left to us,” came another voice, this one distinctly female, “is to give them the power to help themselves.” The three elves looked upwards to localize the voice. More mist began to descend from high above, this time white. It formed in to the shape of a beautiful woman. Her hair was long, thick and black. She wore, what seemed to be, a single piece of white fabric – though spirits didn't wear anything in the literal sense – it was in fact party of her. The fabric was draped into a gown that covered one leg, swathed across the body and covered on shoulder. Her skin had a strange reddish-pink completion and her ears were smooth rather than pointed.
“I am Pandora,” she said, now that she was fully formed.
“What,” Tha'lif began, “how did you come up with the form that you now employ?”
“This is the form of the humans.” Pandora said.
“They were spoken of in the scroll we found.”
“Do you have it with you?”
“Yes,” Tha'lif said, producing it from the bag, “it is now in original form, we of course used a translation spell.”
“Yes of course,” Pandora said as she took the scroll, “this is strange.”
“What is?”
“Well the language reads similarly to one of the human languages. It is different though. Yet we are aware of all of their languages. At least I thought we were.”
“Language can change greatly over time.”
“True.”
“So how is it you know the humans?” Tha'lif asked.
“We have had some sporadic contact with them,” Pandora said.
“Yes indeed,” said Thor, “many of us have visited them. We planned to simply be guides, but they do not understand magic and they believed us to be gods. The lack of understanding lead to wars being fought. Each one of us taught in the way that worked for the particular culture, and many of those cultures thought their way was the only way. Suffice it to say, we no longer visit them.”
“We can help you,” Pandora said, “give you what you need,” she floated up to a high shelf and brought down a box.
“In here is the oldest of us that exists on this planet. Zeus. He is nearing the end of his life and it is only at this time that many of us realize the error of our existence. He has hardly seen this world, living instead in the perfect world of of his own imagination. Some humans describe it as the god realm – never achieving anything, because there is always another day...until, somehow suddenly there isn't.”
Pandora whispered to the box. A weak, croaky voice was heard.
“The reason for their difficulties in fighting manticores is that the Fauns cannot match their power. If they could, they would be able to offer better resistance. This will be my destiny, to finally give something to the world. I hope that there is another existence beyond this one, so that the next few million years is better spent. Release me!”
Pandora opened the box. The mist of Zeus permeated throughout the cave. It headed out the way the elves had come, crossed the sea to the Fauns, rifled through the caves of the Dwarf countries and spread through the Centaur kingdom.
“It is done,” Pandora said, “the magic of Zeus has permeated the world – this one and that of the humans. It will effect each race differently. None shall be as natural as the elves with magic. The Fauns are already starting to free themselves and they will require your help.”
Sunday 4 October 2009
Rolling Shadows - Chapter 11
It was midday when they arrived at the foot of the mountain. Their staffs had had their exercise now it was the turn of the elves. The path up the mountain was obvious having been well trodden. As they looked down they saw the hoof prints which had most probably made the path simply by treading the same course.
“I thought people coming here was rare.” said La'ingif.
“People visiting the spirits is rare,” Tha'lif corrected, “but I imagine that there are frequent centaur visits, on pilgrimage.”
As they continued up the mountain it was a fairly easy star. After the first steep ridge they came upon a sign post. The letters where all straight edged, not a curved line among them, in stark contrast to their own script, which hardly had a straight line.
“That's Norkeish,” Cassy said in recognition, “best to find out what it says.”
“No need,” Tha'lif said, she pushed Cassy's staff back.
“You can read it?” La'ingif asked.
“I can.”
“You never cease to amaze me.”
Tha'lif smiled at the compliment and read the sign allowed, “It says, 'Travelers welcome to the mountain of Democritus. You are welcome to climb here. Let it be known that what is on this mountain stays on the mountain. There are guardians here who will help, should you need it. Enjoy your climb.'”
“That's all!”
“What were you expecting?”
“I don't know,” La'ingf said, “beware those who pass this way.”
“That implies violence. This place is holy,” a voice came from the trees, and a centaur
emerged. His unicorn-like back was a dark brown it blended into a lighter brown at his torso. He carried a quarterstaff.
“I am Guardian Olympus.”
“I'm Cassy, this is La'ingif and Tha'lif.”
The centaur slapped his left shoulder with his right fist and bowed his head, in salute. Cassy returned the gesture, albeit with slightly less force.
“Why are you here?” Olympus asked, “I mean no disrespect by the question but I should like to know.”
Cassy decided to tell the truth, “to meet the spirits.” It seemed as if the silence was somehow meaningful, the centaur's face became serious.
“Then the prophecy has come true,” he said, “our seers said that one day three elves would come to speak to the, spirits as you call them. We know of the threat posed by the manticores. Now that they have reached this land we must unite. All that makes them dangerous, means that they cannot touch this mountain. Most magic does not work here.”
“I speak from personal experience when I say the manticores are still dangerous,” La'ingif said, “they do not need magic.”
“I suppose not,” Olympus conceded, “at least it makes for a more even battle. A warrior does not shy away from an uneven fight, but it is better to win the war than to go prematurely to the Great Banquet. I will be your guide if you will have me.”
“We would welcome your help,” Cassy said.
Olympus showed the way with his outstretched arm and he and the elves headed up the mountain. The quad walked in silence for while, taking in the scenery of blue sky, white thin clouds and green mountain.
Before long they began to talk. Olympus told the story of the prophet for whom the mountain was name, Democritus.
“Democritus died 1442 yeas ago,” Olympus said, “we mark our time by his death. So we are currently in 1442. He is remembered as being the greatest of us, kind, thoughtful and always whiling to help others. Some say he never truly existed, that's all right. Even if it is just a fable, the idea remains powerful.”
“I'm a little confused,” Tha'lif said, “If he died that long ago then it was before any of us came to this land. How is it then that this place was named as the place he died?”
“I fear that you may have read a mistranslation,” Olympus said, “this place is not so much where he died as where our spiritual leaders reaffirmed their belief in him. When my people and yours came to war in the old home, we had abandoned Democritus. Those of us who traveled here made a new kingdom in the shadow of this mountain. What you probably read was that this was the place where Democitus death lead to greatness.”
“Translations are bound to throw up some problems,” Tha'lif said, as she ran for a few strides to catch up to the faster centaur.
“It may seem odd to you to hear this, but we believe that the majority of Democritus work happened after he died."
“After!” La'ingif exclaimed.
Tha'lif shot La'ingif a fiery glance, “it's a different religion.”
Apparently oblivious to La'ingif's words, Olympus continued, “our afterlife, is divided in to several realms. We believe that when you die your deeds determine your place in the afterlife. We believe, as I believe you do, in reincarnation. This for us takes place ten days after death, the intervening time spent in one of the realms.”
Tha'lif hung on his every world. The climb, which might have be otherwise tiring, tricky in places, seemed to pass more easily. Cassy and La'ingif were somewhat interested, they however spent their time engaged in small talk.
“The realms are varied. The lowest level in a volcanic place – only through toil can one leave this realm of fire. The highest of the realms is the Grand Halls of Kankorr'loth. Here we eat drink and are merry, for soon we are reborn”
“There is no such place in elf beliefs,” Tha'lif said, taking advantage of a brief pause as Olympus galloped up a small rise, “the reincarnation is formless – intermingling of form and thought. It is said that some have been able to delay their reincarnation so as to be in the right place at the right time. Why the ten days?”
“Opportunity.”
“Opportunity?”
“To gain in the afterlife what one did not manage in life. If you have committed great acts of evil you will find yourself in the fire prison. If you work hard you can escape the torments and the hardships. The closer to Kankorr'loth you are at the end of the ten days the better your new life. Those who live a good life, arrive in Kankorr'loth are normally content to make merry for those ten days. However Democitus was different. He spent only a day in those grand halls. With the other nine days he headed down through the realms to the realm of fire. He helped the damed in their struggle, taught them and in the process they achieved a better state of mind – a better new life.
“Is their someone among your current people who was Democitus?”
“Not for a while,” Olympus said, “we believe he has chosen not to reincarnate. He is perhaps, as you said some elves were able to do, waiting, for the right time. In the meanwhile he will over come the demons and fight for those who need it the most.
The group stopped for a moment. The landscape stretchering out around them. Such a shame it would be if the manticores came here, blighting the landscape.
“Tell me of your people,” Olympus said, “what belief system do you hold?”
“Nothing quite so,” Tha'lif searched for the right word, “elaborate.” She stopped for a moment as they came to a large rock blocking the path. Olyampus backed away from it and took it at a run. Just before reaching it he jumped, sailing through the air and landing atop the rock. He held his arms over the edge and helped each of the elves up.
“Thank you,” Tha'lif said, “where was I? Oh yes, out beliefs focus more on the hear and now.”
“What do you mean?”
“We do not have an afterlife, not as such. There is life after life but not what you would call an afterlife. There are no specific deity for instance, or prophet as you know it.”
Olympus listened with interest, he was pledged to protect the mountain like
the other guardians, like his mother before him, and her father before that, every generation since his people first arrived in this land. Then when he became a father his child, once they came of age would continue the tradition. The job of guardian was often a solitary one – so any story fascinated him. He would listen intently no matter who he accompanied; those who climbed the mountain because it was there, worshipers on pilgrimage or a group of elves written down in prophecy.
“A rebirth,” Tha'lif's words were slower now as she tried to speak simply without being confusing or misleading, “is not, in our beliefs, controlled by a force. It is one owns being that helps to determine where one is reborn. Sorry into what form someone is reborn – there are some of us who can guide their rebirth however.”
“But,” Olympus said, trying to keep his questions diplomatic and friendly, “how are you to know what is good without a point of reference?”
Tha'lif nodded accepting his point. “We have commentaries, people have written much literature on the subject. These writings are however not infallible. Everyone can make mistakes and each teacher has his or her own ideas of right and wrong. I suppose if there is one cornerstone rule, belief it would be the idea of doing for others as you would have dome to you.”
“We have a smiler central philosophy. May I ask the name of your teacher?”
“Thrin of El'Ingrth.”
They came to a ridge overlooking a lake. It was one of four on the mountain. The lake was calm and the wind blew across the water making small waves. Another centaur stood by it, over the far side as the group approached. Olympus trotted over to great him.
“What food do we have?” asked La'ingif.
“Birch's people were most generous,” Cassy said opening the pack, “we've fruits and berries. Plenty for us after a big dwarf meal.” Cassy passed them a few fruits and a handful of berries on plates. They sat nibbling quietly enjoying the chance to just sit, even if it would only be for a short while. As magic would not work on the mountain they drank from bottles they had brought, rather than being able to simply conjure the water.
Once they were replete they rose, ready to continue. Olympus came back over, the centaur he'd been talking to headed off to another part of the mountain. Cassy tossed him a small juicy purple fruit and while he ate they walked on.
“Why do you seek the spirits at this time?” Olympus asked.
The elves exchanged a few meaningful looks, as they tried to communicate whether it was all right to say anything. Deciding that it was Tha'lif explained. She told him about the discovery of the scroll, its message and briefly the sequence of events that had lead to being here now. Olympus seemed personally skeptical that the spirits would help, nevertheless there was the prophecy, it seemed unlikely that that would have been written if the elves were destined to fail.
The terrain of the mountain seemed to fluctuate greatly. It went up, down and had areas where it was almost flat. For a while the group only briefly talked as they helped each other over the more difficult areas of the climb.
“Here we are,” Olympus declared spreading his arms wide. They now stood looking down at another beautiful lake. This one had still waters that looked like you could walk on it. Despite the stillness it still seemed to glisten and made the elves feel more at home. It was water and trees that where the thing of elf desire. They stood for only a moment before deciding how best to head down to the lake. It truth, rejecting scrabbling down on their backs, their really was only one way down. They walked up a gentle slope and then the path wound down to the lake side.
“Beautiful,” Cassy declared.
“It is,” Olympus said simply.
Sitting by the lake Cassy opened her pack. She looked at its contents for a moment as if in deep thought, pulled out a bottle of water and took a swig. La'ingif thought he might go for a swim. He approached the water and dipped his hands into it, it was very cold.
“Where are the spirits,” La'ingif asked, coming back from the water's edge.
“Up their,” Olympus said pointing. He pointed further around the lakeside, high up the cliff face that framed the lake on three sides. They could see a cave.
“How can we reach it?” La'ingifs voice was a varied mix of emotions, worried that their was no way and they would fail but also thinking that there might be a way, only he was too scared.”
“I think it is supposed to be difficult,” Tha'lif said.
“I can think of no way to reach that cave without magic,” Laingif said.
However La'ingif was wrong in his assertion. It was simply the case that elves did not know how to work without magic – it was that integral to their very being. As it turned out the lack of magic was not the obstacle that it might first have appeared. Elves still understood that materials had a strength of their own, a climber would use ropes – yet he wouldn't dream of climbing without a protective shield.
The magic of the pixies was on a far subtler lever. This was to the degree that they could bypass that which prevented magic from working on the mountain. The others hadn't yet noticed that Cassy was ready for this eventuality. Putting the bottle of water back she pulled from each of their bags a thick brown rope.
“They gave us these,” Cassy said, “they have a strength of their own. In a way it is alive.”
“So are our staffs,” Tha'lif said, “they can do nothing here.”
Cassy was about to respond but realized she actually didn't have an explanation. They had tried their staff of course but they had seem drowsy. Being on the mountain had indeed effected them. It was however Olympus that offered an explanation.
“You can only defend against that which you know.”
“I'm sorry?”
“A fortress is well defended. The moat prevents heavily armed forces from crossing to it and the high walls make it difficult to fire arrows. However I'm sure with powerful magic you could demolish the walls.”
“You're saying,” Cassy said, “that pixie magic works differently to our magic?”
“Yes.”
Cassy nodded in understanding and walked to just below the cave. She placed two of the ropes on the ground and swirled the third like a lasso, then threw it at the cliff face. As it approached the ends of the rope splayed out like a claw and embedded into the rock. Cassy took the other two ropes, one at a time, and did the same.
The three ropes were now embedded in the cliff face. La'ingif came and stood next to Cassy looking up at the three ropes, he didn't like where this was going. Cassy on the other hand had a smile on her face as she approached the rock face. Taking one of the ropes in both her hands and her feat on the cliff she climbed hand over hand up the side. She breathed deeply from the exertion, as she neared the top she pushed off and was able to swing herself into the cave.
“Come on,” she called. Her voice was exhilarated, she was slightly out of breath but her tone sounded more like she was inviting them to join her in lovely warm water – rather than to climb a cliff face. Tha'lif took a deep breath as she approached the cliff face, she was sure that she wouldn't be able to climb as well as Cassy had. Tha'lif used two of the ropes, a hand on each to slowly pull herself up, it took a while longer but soon she two reached the cave.
“You can do it,” Cassy and Tha'lif said in unison to La'ingif, who stood at the bottom looking most unsure. In time he said, “I'm not sure I can do this.” His words were barely out of his mouth before the three roped converged on his position. The first rapped itself around his middle and with the others help he was lifted up.
“Wow,” he said as his feat touched down.
“Not so bad was it?” Tha'lif said, kissing on the cheek.
“No,” he said, still rather unnerved.
“Good luck,” Olympus called from below.
“I thought people coming here was rare.” said La'ingif.
“People visiting the spirits is rare,” Tha'lif corrected, “but I imagine that there are frequent centaur visits, on pilgrimage.”
As they continued up the mountain it was a fairly easy star. After the first steep ridge they came upon a sign post. The letters where all straight edged, not a curved line among them, in stark contrast to their own script, which hardly had a straight line.
“That's Norkeish,” Cassy said in recognition, “best to find out what it says.”
“No need,” Tha'lif said, she pushed Cassy's staff back.
“You can read it?” La'ingif asked.
“I can.”
“You never cease to amaze me.”
Tha'lif smiled at the compliment and read the sign allowed, “It says, 'Travelers welcome to the mountain of Democritus. You are welcome to climb here. Let it be known that what is on this mountain stays on the mountain. There are guardians here who will help, should you need it. Enjoy your climb.'”
“That's all!”
“What were you expecting?”
“I don't know,” La'ingf said, “beware those who pass this way.”
“That implies violence. This place is holy,” a voice came from the trees, and a centaur
emerged. His unicorn-like back was a dark brown it blended into a lighter brown at his torso. He carried a quarterstaff.
“I am Guardian Olympus.”
“I'm Cassy, this is La'ingif and Tha'lif.”
The centaur slapped his left shoulder with his right fist and bowed his head, in salute. Cassy returned the gesture, albeit with slightly less force.
“Why are you here?” Olympus asked, “I mean no disrespect by the question but I should like to know.”
Cassy decided to tell the truth, “to meet the spirits.” It seemed as if the silence was somehow meaningful, the centaur's face became serious.
“Then the prophecy has come true,” he said, “our seers said that one day three elves would come to speak to the, spirits as you call them. We know of the threat posed by the manticores. Now that they have reached this land we must unite. All that makes them dangerous, means that they cannot touch this mountain. Most magic does not work here.”
“I speak from personal experience when I say the manticores are still dangerous,” La'ingif said, “they do not need magic.”
“I suppose not,” Olympus conceded, “at least it makes for a more even battle. A warrior does not shy away from an uneven fight, but it is better to win the war than to go prematurely to the Great Banquet. I will be your guide if you will have me.”
“We would welcome your help,” Cassy said.
Olympus showed the way with his outstretched arm and he and the elves headed up the mountain. The quad walked in silence for while, taking in the scenery of blue sky, white thin clouds and green mountain.
Before long they began to talk. Olympus told the story of the prophet for whom the mountain was name, Democritus.
“Democritus died 1442 yeas ago,” Olympus said, “we mark our time by his death. So we are currently in 1442. He is remembered as being the greatest of us, kind, thoughtful and always whiling to help others. Some say he never truly existed, that's all right. Even if it is just a fable, the idea remains powerful.”
“I'm a little confused,” Tha'lif said, “If he died that long ago then it was before any of us came to this land. How is it then that this place was named as the place he died?”
“I fear that you may have read a mistranslation,” Olympus said, “this place is not so much where he died as where our spiritual leaders reaffirmed their belief in him. When my people and yours came to war in the old home, we had abandoned Democritus. Those of us who traveled here made a new kingdom in the shadow of this mountain. What you probably read was that this was the place where Democitus death lead to greatness.”
“Translations are bound to throw up some problems,” Tha'lif said, as she ran for a few strides to catch up to the faster centaur.
“It may seem odd to you to hear this, but we believe that the majority of Democritus work happened after he died."
“After!” La'ingif exclaimed.
Tha'lif shot La'ingif a fiery glance, “it's a different religion.”
Apparently oblivious to La'ingif's words, Olympus continued, “our afterlife, is divided in to several realms. We believe that when you die your deeds determine your place in the afterlife. We believe, as I believe you do, in reincarnation. This for us takes place ten days after death, the intervening time spent in one of the realms.”
Tha'lif hung on his every world. The climb, which might have be otherwise tiring, tricky in places, seemed to pass more easily. Cassy and La'ingif were somewhat interested, they however spent their time engaged in small talk.
“The realms are varied. The lowest level in a volcanic place – only through toil can one leave this realm of fire. The highest of the realms is the Grand Halls of Kankorr'loth. Here we eat drink and are merry, for soon we are reborn”
“There is no such place in elf beliefs,” Tha'lif said, taking advantage of a brief pause as Olympus galloped up a small rise, “the reincarnation is formless – intermingling of form and thought. It is said that some have been able to delay their reincarnation so as to be in the right place at the right time. Why the ten days?”
“Opportunity.”
“Opportunity?”
“To gain in the afterlife what one did not manage in life. If you have committed great acts of evil you will find yourself in the fire prison. If you work hard you can escape the torments and the hardships. The closer to Kankorr'loth you are at the end of the ten days the better your new life. Those who live a good life, arrive in Kankorr'loth are normally content to make merry for those ten days. However Democitus was different. He spent only a day in those grand halls. With the other nine days he headed down through the realms to the realm of fire. He helped the damed in their struggle, taught them and in the process they achieved a better state of mind – a better new life.
“Is their someone among your current people who was Democitus?”
“Not for a while,” Olympus said, “we believe he has chosen not to reincarnate. He is perhaps, as you said some elves were able to do, waiting, for the right time. In the meanwhile he will over come the demons and fight for those who need it the most.
The group stopped for a moment. The landscape stretchering out around them. Such a shame it would be if the manticores came here, blighting the landscape.
“Tell me of your people,” Olympus said, “what belief system do you hold?”
“Nothing quite so,” Tha'lif searched for the right word, “elaborate.” She stopped for a moment as they came to a large rock blocking the path. Olyampus backed away from it and took it at a run. Just before reaching it he jumped, sailing through the air and landing atop the rock. He held his arms over the edge and helped each of the elves up.
“Thank you,” Tha'lif said, “where was I? Oh yes, out beliefs focus more on the hear and now.”
“What do you mean?”
“We do not have an afterlife, not as such. There is life after life but not what you would call an afterlife. There are no specific deity for instance, or prophet as you know it.”
Olympus listened with interest, he was pledged to protect the mountain like
the other guardians, like his mother before him, and her father before that, every generation since his people first arrived in this land. Then when he became a father his child, once they came of age would continue the tradition. The job of guardian was often a solitary one – so any story fascinated him. He would listen intently no matter who he accompanied; those who climbed the mountain because it was there, worshipers on pilgrimage or a group of elves written down in prophecy.
“A rebirth,” Tha'lif's words were slower now as she tried to speak simply without being confusing or misleading, “is not, in our beliefs, controlled by a force. It is one owns being that helps to determine where one is reborn. Sorry into what form someone is reborn – there are some of us who can guide their rebirth however.”
“But,” Olympus said, trying to keep his questions diplomatic and friendly, “how are you to know what is good without a point of reference?”
Tha'lif nodded accepting his point. “We have commentaries, people have written much literature on the subject. These writings are however not infallible. Everyone can make mistakes and each teacher has his or her own ideas of right and wrong. I suppose if there is one cornerstone rule, belief it would be the idea of doing for others as you would have dome to you.”
“We have a smiler central philosophy. May I ask the name of your teacher?”
“Thrin of El'Ingrth.”
They came to a ridge overlooking a lake. It was one of four on the mountain. The lake was calm and the wind blew across the water making small waves. Another centaur stood by it, over the far side as the group approached. Olympus trotted over to great him.
“What food do we have?” asked La'ingif.
“Birch's people were most generous,” Cassy said opening the pack, “we've fruits and berries. Plenty for us after a big dwarf meal.” Cassy passed them a few fruits and a handful of berries on plates. They sat nibbling quietly enjoying the chance to just sit, even if it would only be for a short while. As magic would not work on the mountain they drank from bottles they had brought, rather than being able to simply conjure the water.
Once they were replete they rose, ready to continue. Olympus came back over, the centaur he'd been talking to headed off to another part of the mountain. Cassy tossed him a small juicy purple fruit and while he ate they walked on.
“Why do you seek the spirits at this time?” Olympus asked.
The elves exchanged a few meaningful looks, as they tried to communicate whether it was all right to say anything. Deciding that it was Tha'lif explained. She told him about the discovery of the scroll, its message and briefly the sequence of events that had lead to being here now. Olympus seemed personally skeptical that the spirits would help, nevertheless there was the prophecy, it seemed unlikely that that would have been written if the elves were destined to fail.
The terrain of the mountain seemed to fluctuate greatly. It went up, down and had areas where it was almost flat. For a while the group only briefly talked as they helped each other over the more difficult areas of the climb.
“Here we are,” Olympus declared spreading his arms wide. They now stood looking down at another beautiful lake. This one had still waters that looked like you could walk on it. Despite the stillness it still seemed to glisten and made the elves feel more at home. It was water and trees that where the thing of elf desire. They stood for only a moment before deciding how best to head down to the lake. It truth, rejecting scrabbling down on their backs, their really was only one way down. They walked up a gentle slope and then the path wound down to the lake side.
“Beautiful,” Cassy declared.
“It is,” Olympus said simply.
Sitting by the lake Cassy opened her pack. She looked at its contents for a moment as if in deep thought, pulled out a bottle of water and took a swig. La'ingif thought he might go for a swim. He approached the water and dipped his hands into it, it was very cold.
“Where are the spirits,” La'ingif asked, coming back from the water's edge.
“Up their,” Olympus said pointing. He pointed further around the lakeside, high up the cliff face that framed the lake on three sides. They could see a cave.
“How can we reach it?” La'ingifs voice was a varied mix of emotions, worried that their was no way and they would fail but also thinking that there might be a way, only he was too scared.”
“I think it is supposed to be difficult,” Tha'lif said.
“I can think of no way to reach that cave without magic,” Laingif said.
However La'ingif was wrong in his assertion. It was simply the case that elves did not know how to work without magic – it was that integral to their very being. As it turned out the lack of magic was not the obstacle that it might first have appeared. Elves still understood that materials had a strength of their own, a climber would use ropes – yet he wouldn't dream of climbing without a protective shield.
The magic of the pixies was on a far subtler lever. This was to the degree that they could bypass that which prevented magic from working on the mountain. The others hadn't yet noticed that Cassy was ready for this eventuality. Putting the bottle of water back she pulled from each of their bags a thick brown rope.
“They gave us these,” Cassy said, “they have a strength of their own. In a way it is alive.”
“So are our staffs,” Tha'lif said, “they can do nothing here.”
Cassy was about to respond but realized she actually didn't have an explanation. They had tried their staff of course but they had seem drowsy. Being on the mountain had indeed effected them. It was however Olympus that offered an explanation.
“You can only defend against that which you know.”
“I'm sorry?”
“A fortress is well defended. The moat prevents heavily armed forces from crossing to it and the high walls make it difficult to fire arrows. However I'm sure with powerful magic you could demolish the walls.”
“You're saying,” Cassy said, “that pixie magic works differently to our magic?”
“Yes.”
Cassy nodded in understanding and walked to just below the cave. She placed two of the ropes on the ground and swirled the third like a lasso, then threw it at the cliff face. As it approached the ends of the rope splayed out like a claw and embedded into the rock. Cassy took the other two ropes, one at a time, and did the same.
The three ropes were now embedded in the cliff face. La'ingif came and stood next to Cassy looking up at the three ropes, he didn't like where this was going. Cassy on the other hand had a smile on her face as she approached the rock face. Taking one of the ropes in both her hands and her feat on the cliff she climbed hand over hand up the side. She breathed deeply from the exertion, as she neared the top she pushed off and was able to swing herself into the cave.
“Come on,” she called. Her voice was exhilarated, she was slightly out of breath but her tone sounded more like she was inviting them to join her in lovely warm water – rather than to climb a cliff face. Tha'lif took a deep breath as she approached the cliff face, she was sure that she wouldn't be able to climb as well as Cassy had. Tha'lif used two of the ropes, a hand on each to slowly pull herself up, it took a while longer but soon she two reached the cave.
“You can do it,” Cassy and Tha'lif said in unison to La'ingif, who stood at the bottom looking most unsure. In time he said, “I'm not sure I can do this.” His words were barely out of his mouth before the three roped converged on his position. The first rapped itself around his middle and with the others help he was lifted up.
“Wow,” he said as his feat touched down.
“Not so bad was it?” Tha'lif said, kissing on the cheek.
“No,” he said, still rather unnerved.
“Good luck,” Olympus called from below.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
