Rising the following morning, the atmosphere was tight. Usually with sleep, burdens became easier, but Kifter’s troubles remained. ‘Another two infants!’ he thought, packing away. Shutting out their random pouches of laughter, idle chatter swung as if to tease him. Chiding himself for allowing the turmoil in the first place, there seemed to be no way around this. Quicker in wit and slight of hand than the best of them, but here, he felt inadequate for not controlling what was his territory. So unlike him, the previous turn’s miraculous episode was clearly affecting him. Determined to find a solution, he was not putting up with it.
Setting out, the early morning chill fired them into action. A blustery wind from the north was a sharp reminder of what terrible forces were soon to follow. Kifter’s ominous words echoed of another time and place, Bane dismissing them as oversensitive. The Freeloaver had not been evil, just angry. “It probably would not have actually killed us,” he had said, rejecting how close they had come to death.
Not sharing the same views, Hanor spent most of the morning trying to unravel the previous turn’s episode. Hard to pinpoint when that potent energy had ignited, recalling odd snippets but nothing more, why was it so hazy? Consumed by those remarkable powers, but confronting the Freeloaver without a care, rocked him. Registering those same powers in the creature, what had Brandor done to him?
“We will rest a while,” Kifter said, half-turn of the day arriving.
Pulling in beside a huge shrub with blooming lila flowers of pinks, yellows and reds, they added colour to the sour mood hanging over the group. Perfumed, the fragrance left a fierce headache if inhaled, choosing this site to ensure no irritating light-flies would bother them. Intermittent trees and more lila shrubs were scattered in every direction, this region a blessing to anyone on the move. If the sun were shining, a timeless world it would be.
Rolling shoulders and rubbing taut necks, the morning’s ride had been strenuous.
“Tarden… is how far?” Bane asked, massaging his lower back.
“Stop complaining,” Nole hissed. One wrong word could inflame the embittered Fife.
“Who is complaining?” Bane shrugged.
Frustrated, Kifter sighed. They knew where he and Hanor were going, how much more did they know?
Stepping away from the others, Hanor needed time to reflect, guilt marking his conscience. Nole and Bane’s presence was not helping, the latter especially. His parents would be distraught at Nole’s disappearance, and the sense of betrayal his brother still felt had to be dealt with. Projecting ahead to when reaching Tarden, the idea of facing Brandor with them in tow was unnerving. Convinced Kifter would be thinking the same, the Dai-laman would not tolerate stubborn boys who had no real desire to help in future troubles. Nole’s loyalties were understandable, but he doubted it would be enough.
Sitting down, needing a moment to collect himself, it was not long before he heard someone draw near. Guessing who, he was right when peering up.
“Can I sit down?” Nole asked, hesitant.
Motioning for his brother to do so, a long silence ensued as the two, who were once close, searched for a way to start. Staring across the scenic view, a couple of Fliryns swooped nearby before drawing close to where they sat. Hovering, they were the only creatures able to drink from the venomous lila flower. Suspecting they were invading the Fliryns’ territory, the two flew off to an adjacent bush to feed.
“I am so angry at you,” Nole broke the silence. Rich brown eyes expressed his pain.
“I know,” Hanor said, hurting for him. Sometimes, feelings spoke louder than a barrage of rage. Taking it for granted, he had abused their trust. Discarding it for this new challenge, the problem now was how to heal it.
Unsuspecting, Bane came around the bush but stopped on seeing the two. Sensibly stepping back, not wanting to interfere, he left them to begin the rebuilding process.
“Why?” asked Nole after a pause.
“I know I have let you down,” Hanor said, wanting to say more. Brandor, the lake, his training, the Freeloaver, he wanted to tell him everything, but something held him back. To do so would mean returning to the past, doing it out of loyalty rather than what was for the best. Brandor had not revealed all because he was not ready to handle it. He now felt the same with Nole. The unusual experiences he was having were beyond his brother’s ability to perceive.
“You have changed Hanor, you are no longer the brother I knew. All of this secrecy, these activities that do not make sense.” Turning, Nole looked straight at him. “Do I not mean anything to you anymore?”
“I am truly sorry.”
“Are you really, Hanor? If you were, you would not have done it this way.”
“It has all happened so quickly.”
“What has? Tell me. If you do not say…, how can I help?”
“It is not that simple.”
“Why not? What is so important that our relationship is discarded without a care?”
“It has not been discarded.”
“It looks that way.”
Sighing, Nole deserved an answer, a definitive response to wash away the anguish. But what could he say?
“Is it because of what happened by the lake?”
Forgetting it was his brother who had discovered him after the original encounter with Brandor, Hanor was saddened at the distress he must have suffered since.
“That look when I found you,” Nole pressed when no answer came. “That same glazed expression was there after confronting that creature. Later, I heard you humming. With everything that has happened, you were humming! It was the same at Manson, dancing and singing. This is the second time it has happened Hanor, do you deny that?”
Inner pressures prompted him to disclose as little as possible. Why was that necessary? This was his brother, someone he loved and trusted with his life, why?
“What has been happening to you?” Nole urged.
The plea stabbed his heart. “I do not understand what is going on.”
A flicker of alarm flashed in Hanor’s eyes. “Are you frightened to say?”
“It is not fear but... the unknown,” Hanor said. “Things have been happening Nole, weird things too peculiar to describe.”
“What… things?”
“Strange feelings, in here,” he said, placing a hand on his chest, careful in case those powers ignited into life again. “Indescribable energies are flowing right through me.”
“What do you mean… feelings and energies?”
“Sshh…,” Hanor hissed, wary that Kifter might hear. “They are difficult to describe, I cannot even explain it to myself.”
“Are they hot feelings… or cold? Do they hurt? How do they make you feel?”
“There is an overwhelming feeling of… life.”
“Life?”
“Yes, life. I cannot explain it any other way. The energies seem pure, natural, as if nothing can corrupt them.”
“So where do these feelings come from?”
“I am not sure.”
“Hanor!”
“I mean it. They seem to come and go. I do not know what triggers them. There is a peace that feels weird but very comforting.”
“So..., what has this old man by the lake got to do with it?”
Hesitating, determining if it would be betraying Brandor if he said anything, surely he could trust Nole? If he told him not to tell anyone, even Bane, he would do as asked. This was too much.
“The truth Hanor,” Nole warned.
Wanting to repurchase his brother’s trust, he had to give more, something final, for the time being anyhow. “Brandor was the one who first stimulated the change.”
“What do you mean… stimulated?”
“He placed a hand on my head, and it got hot. Then my heart changed and started beating smoothly, hence the feelings of peace.”
“Are we ready to move out?” Kifter called from the far side of the bush.
“Please,” Hanor beseeched his brother. “I do not know why, but you must not tell anyone about this. Bane would want to find out more, and I cannot give more. His tongue is too loose to keep secrets. If Kifter finds out, who knows what he might do. I am not sure how much he knows, but Brandor said it was to be kept secret. The enemy could be anywhere, including Manson. I did not deceive you Nole…, but circumstances moved so swiftly I barely had time to think. I am going to Tarden because Brandor said it is where I should go if I am to learn and be of any help. I thought I was the last person to be of any use, but he asked, so I am doing it. The more I understand, you will be the first to know.”
“We do not have an endless supply of time,” barked Kifter.
“Coming,” Hanor shouted, taking hold of Nole’s hand. “I am glad you are here but…. this is not a game, Nole. Rainer’s training showed me how serious it was, and I would die if I were to lose you.”
Gripping his hand, still not excusing him for what he had done, but a great weight shifted from Nole. Being together was what mattered. “You are not going anywhere without me. I still have questions, but for now, I trust you. As mad as this is, we are joined as one.”
Both stood and hugged, the bond already healing.
The relief of both young men was apparent to both Kifter and Bane when they returned from behind the enormous bush. Re-igniting their trust, throughout the rest of the turn, Bane kept urging for details, Nole telling him to be patient. Kifter too pulled in beside Hanor, needing to know what was shared. Still concerned about what took place with the Freeloaver, dissatisfied that Hanor had not disclosed any specifics, he reminded Hanor that this was not a trip of fun. Deciding to leave it until a more suitable time, the Fife could only but wait.
An uneventful ride was enough to settle moods. Lila plants no longer guided their path with colour and beauty, passing their haven well before nightfall. Riding into dusk, the group of four camped within a clump of trees, the turn exhausting for all.
Insisting Hanor build the fire and prepare the meal, stamping his authority on the situation, Kifter did not want anyone to get comfortable.
‘Like a punishment,’ Hanor thought, refusing to get rattled. Nole offered to help, but a firm ‘no’ from the Fife stressed his discontent. Setting the fire inside a ring of large stones left by previous travellers, an aroma of stew soon wafted high. Careful not to upset their guide, Nole and Bane dared to lay their mat beneath Kifter’s canopy. Refusing to get perturbed, the Fifanian said nothing.
Pieces of quaner soaked in stew to add substance satisfied appetites and helped moderate the atmosphere. Hesitant glances flickered like the fire, wary of what to say.
Sitting on a travel bag, Kifter stared into the fiery embers. Intrigued by what Hanor might have told Nole earlier, he enjoyed mysteries, but this was different. Something happened to Hanor, and he needed to know what.
“Do you know of any good tales?” Nole said, feeling brave. Peering across at the Fife, deciding friendship had to develop if this journey was to work, he waited, hoping the slim figure would accept his invitation.
Glaring across at the boy, probing his intentions, Kifter cursed. Was he to remain bitter for the rest of their short journey? Already electing to pay someone at the Cropping Village of Candal to take them back to Manson, there was no point in staying sullen. His enormous Hitorian friend, Hallen could always persuade them to leave if that failed. Expecting to meet him at Ag’s Ole, he had a canny way of encouraging people to do the right thing. The outlook did look promising.
A thin smile spread across his bronzed features. “Tales?” he said, succumbing to the temptation. “Now you know the way to my heart, for the one thing a Fife does well… is share the tales of his travels.”
Relieved, the three boys welcomed the Fife’s change of attitude.
“Let me think now,” Kifter said, mindful of getting too acquainted. “Yes, I know one you should like,” he said, voice lowering and eyes narrowing to increase the drama. “A few seasons ago, I was invited to Baltiar. My skills as a tracker had been requested by the Sages at Altor, who are devout, their ways attuned to The Sacred. So I knew my services would be highly rewarded. Explaining what they wanted, I left and rode to the legendary Roldamor Mountains. A place infamous for its dust storms, my target was to be found at the southern tip, an intolerable region even for the hardiest of travellers. On arriving, I searched but could not find what I was looking for. Tracks… yes, but nothing else.”
“What were you looking for?” Bane asked, the Fife pausing to draw them in.
“I will come to that shortly,” Kifter said, pressing on. “When first given the challenge, I suspected they had not told me everything, which proved to be true. A small animal, they said, was to be caught. Very rare and precious, “No harm was to come to it.” I was told the creature had four short interweaving horns, a long snout and was no higher than my knees. Oh yes…, it had no claws or huge teeth, and was not considered dangerous, just temperamental.
“Finding the tracks was the easy part. What riled me was fresh tracks kept appearing around my camp at night. Quite worrying you might understand. I tried staying awake all night, but the same thing happened. Fresh tracks, and without a sound made, they always ended up at the base of a nearby rock face.
I got annoyed. Tracks do not vanish into solid rock!” Absorbed by his tale, the three boys were hooked. “No matter how much I checked the immediate area, I could not find it. I was convinced the creature was following me, playing a game. I screamed at the rocks…more than once, challenging it to come out, but it never did.
Verging on giving up, but not really, for my reputation would not handle it, I decided to approach it differently. A bizarre notion, but I had nothing to lose.” Pausing again, anticipation rising in his audience, he continued. “As night closed in, I lit ten small fires in a huge circle, with a larger one at the centre, and set about preparing my meal. Adding extra spices and herbs, the aroma was very appetising. I left it simmering, the light breeze wafting everywhere. I dished half up and left the rest in the pot. It was odd, the notion of being watched felt unnatural. When finished, I lay down in the centre and feigned sleep, leaving the half-full pot to one side just in view. I was tired but determined to catch my prey. Time drifted, and the outside ring of fires eventually burned to smouldering ash, leaving only the larger central one alight. Lulling, it was hard to keep awake. Thinking my plan had failed, I was close to giving up. But then, peering through the cracks of my eyes, I could not believe it; the pot was twitching!”
Lowering his voice further, the three listeners leaned forward, captivated. “Alerting me to action, convinced the object of my hunt was right before me, even though invisible, I had to make a move before I missed my chance. I am quick, but to catch something I could not see from a lying down position was a challenge even for me. Accepting I had no choice but to go for it, a stroke of luck befell me. An unexpected noise snapped outside the camp. Trusting the sound had distracted it, I seized the moment. Leaping up and out with my arms ready to grasp anything, it was hardly efficiency at its best, but it did work. My hand struck the bony part of its lower leg. Gripping with all my strength, the high-pitched squeal did not deter me. Too fired up to worry, I grappled with the invisible creature. Dust was kicked into my face, needing two hands to hold on. Scrambling to avoid the fire, my muscles burned as the creature put up a brave fight.
Anyone passing would have laughed at me rolling around in the dirt. But then, quite unexpected, it transformed and became visible, flesh that I could see, or long golden-brown fur as was the case. Interwoven horns meant I had my catch. But would it settle, no. Determined to get away, our tussle was about to include a new factor.
Foolish, I thought I had the advantage, weight and strength the most obvious. But I was soon to discover it too had a surprise.” The memory tickled him even now. “I thought it was tiring, its stubby tail twitching. Before I knew what was happening, it squirted the foulest spray ever. Urghh!” He feigned sickness. “It was worse than rotten meat.” The three lads thought it hilarious. “But that was not the end of it, it squirted another three.” Fears and doubts washed away by the medicine of laughter, the Fife having to admit it was good to see.
“What happened next?” Nole asked, calming down.
“Well, it must have taken pity on me. Realising I was determined to endure the worst of what it could fire at me, what hope did it really have?”
“So what did it do?” pressed Bane, reservations about their guide easing.
“It lay down as if dead.”
“Dead!” all three exclaimed.
“As good as. It was not of course. Fortunately for me…, it just meant no more struggles.”
“Then what?” Hanor asked this time.
“I bagged it. Tying its paws without disturbance, it just lay there panting. Its large dark eyes kept watching me; very strange.”
“No more sprays then?”
“No.”
“How sad,” Hanor said.
“It stayed like that all the way back to Altor. Strapped in a bag to the side of my kyboe, head showing, it permitted me to do whatever I wanted.”
“So what did you do with it?” asked Nole.
“I handed it over.”
“What did they do with it?”
“Ahh…, to the Baltian people, it is a sacred animal. They have the utmost reverence for it, and still do. They sent me because the previous one had crossed over.”
“Crossed over?”
“To you and me… died. But to them, burnt on an alter in holy reverence and prayer. You see, the Baltian people believe these creatures live in a place between our world and the next, hence its invisibility. They believe it to be a link to the sacred Realm of the Soul, which is where we are supposed to go when we die, if you accept those beliefs that is. Balts have great difficulty catching one of these creatures. It can be quite traumatic for it and the hunter. Limiting what they told me meant I could only catch it if it was willed by The Sacred. To hunt with my eyes alone, I was told later, I would have failed. Remember the ring of fires, I had no idea why, I just did it. According to them, I was given a revelation to catch it. It seems a little hard to swallow, but they were in no doubt. There is only ever one alive, given by the holy for the holy. The fact I had my hands all over it in the dirt did not seem to bother them. It had to go through a cleansing ritual anyway.”
“What is it doing now?” Hanor asked.
“The Rymar, as it is called, is still at Altor.”
“What does it do?”
“It does not do anything. It is just a connection to The Sacred, a symbol of acceptance from The Greater Lives that reside over this planet. In catching it, unbeknown to me, I was training it to accept life in this world.”
“Sounds weird,” said Nole.
“Fascinating,” Hanor added.
“I thought you might like the tale,” Kifter said, his nagging doubts gone. Closer to his usual self, tale telling was a way to relax.
“Do you have any more to tell?” Nole invited.
“Not tonight,” Kifter said, thoughts returning to what was said between Hanor and his brother earlier. “Is there anything you would like to share?” he asked both boys.
Missing the Fife’s point, Nole described a trip they went on when Hanor got lost and fell into a bog. Hanor however, did not miss Kifter’s meaning.
“Anything else?” Kifter inquired