Leaving Hanor asleep, Coreema left her Stay and headed for the Gathering Ring. With so much to consider, this was too important to discuss using mind-waves alone. Her brethren had witnessed the scenario too, and their tense thoughts now mirrored her own. Encountering that mysterious Presence at the end of Hanor’s remembrance was disturbing. Vital he knew nothing of what they had seen, but what had they seen exactly? Who was he really? Influencing him like a child, but he had achieved the miraculous.
Needing to investigate the restored powers of the Boverns after their forebears had rendered them docile creatures of the water long ago, they had anticipated evil at work. Expecting someone of great power in the vicinity, discovering Hanor’s group sleeping instead had left too many questions unanswered. Revealing their heart-glow to tempt Hanor into the Whirlwind of Sorrow, the vortex and gateway to their invisible realm, those incredible forces should have loosened his mind enough to scrutinise his past. Gleaning nothing to explain why the Boverns’ powers had returned, the fact he had somehow ended up in their realm had cut to the heart of her people.
Sitting in a large ring numbering sixty, the gathered Elders of the Lani Folk waited, constraining their demands for answers. Mental images at the centre of the ring charged their words and thoughts to a deeper level. Sitting on the grass close to where Hanor had first entered, when Coreema arrived, a round of voices sought to be heard.
“Where do we begin?” Yarma Torna opened, motioning for Coreema to sit beside him. Raising a hand to quieten everyone, their plans had not foreseen this. “This latest event is astonishing, and the possibilities more so.”
Gathered here, the other Folk, the Mani, Runa, Seema and Pasi Clans would be most displeased at not being part of these proceedings, but this demanded clear heads and a quick solution. Long-term plans did not include the other Clans either, so caution was necessary.
“You all saw the Presence and felt its power. What was that Presence and why can we not detect it now? When Coreema tried to take Hanor back to the bridge, it is clear the Presence did not want that to happen. We would normally associate such a Presence with the Sacred, but our new arrival has seeded many doubts. We cannot detect dark forces at work, only power and great intelligence, yet the mystery remains.”
Waiting for the central area to fill with images and colour to support any incoming views, it was an ability the other Clans had not developed yet either. A higher form of emotion, the images added dimension to their discussions.
“I sense the Sacred,” Yalno said, breaking the silence, a few others agreeing. The rushing forth of a radiant star filled the centre space before them.
“But why would a boy be the focal point for something so majestic?” Eama asked. An Elder of the Clan, her words always held weight.
“We have strived for an age to experience a mystery such as this,” Morn said. “Rewards in the past have usually reflected our efforts. This is no different.” The image in front of a golden dawn reinforced his meaning.
“Life in The Freelands is changing,” Mali said, nearby. “Especially now the vengeful One is remaking his claim. His wounds run deep, but our Lore says opportunities must be given to both the good and evil forces in this world.”
“I did not detect evil in that Presence,” Tamo noted.
“Only power of a higher kind…, a detached sort, capable of anything,” Eama said.
“Coreema was at least permitted to take him back to their camp.”
The centre now showed the whole scene, the powerful Presence unmistakable.
“But what if it is not the Sacred?” Yarma Torna tried another line of enquiry.
“Then a disturbing force is in our midst,” Morn said, alarming everyone.
Reacting to that last comment, the central area went blank, and a protective screen of power rose in its place. Linking mentally together, everyone turned, inspecting the glade for any potential foe. Convinced control of Yarmoria was theirs alone, the thought of something listening in rattled even the faithful. Scanning everywhere possible, nothing was detectable. An unsettled atmosphere remained thereafter.
“We must proceed as if such a Presence is not here,” Torna prompted. “There is little we can do about it anyway.”
Fliryns formed at the centre, inviting freedom of thought to return.
“Why did the Presence stop us from going to the bridge?” Mali restarted the discussion.
“Were the Sacred stopping us or... Hanor?”
“A good point,” Torna said, perceiving it to be a step in the right direction.
“Is this a blessing or a warning then?” Coreema posed, a streak of red shooting to the heavens reinforcing her qualms.
“A warning against what?”
“The plans we have set before us have generated much debate and variance. Is there something in those plans we have overlooked?”
Disgruntled murmurs swept the ring, anxious old arguments were about to resurface. Not everyone was convinced it was the right path, and Hanor’s arrival gave some hope that another way could be found.
“Delicate affairs lie before us,” Coreema continued, getting back to the problem of Hanor. “Inducing another memory recall before he is ready is ill advised, as tempting as it is. The Presence has shaken us enough to be cautious. Hanor is fragile; you have seen how easily I move him. Is it acceptable to the Sacred what we are attempting to do?”
The point was seized upon by Mali. “If we agree that they are involved, then we must move forward carefully. He is a simple young man, nothing more. The Sacred have used this opportunity to bless us, revealing their holiness like never before.”
“That does not explain the Bovern.”
An image of the bridge with triumphant folk on both sides filled the centre, a timely reminder of the work fought for in times past.
“That I cannot explain,” Mali conceded.
“Could it be the vengeful One?” Pina asked. “We did not detect his evil, but his influence reaches far.”
As always, when discussing Gorl-darl, thunderous clouds churned before them.
“Every possibility has to be considered,” Yarma Torna said, careful not to upset the proceedings any further. “When here in ancient times, taken in to heal his wounds by our compassionate ancestors, it is said how bitter he was towards his enemies. But their love for all things enabled them to see past his intent, even though he was determined to destroy those who had nearly killed him. Invited into their lives, we of the Lani Clan are a result of that love, his distant offspring. His blood is in us, and we share similar passions for knowledge and power. However, we differ because we seek to do the Sacred’s bidding to enhance our lives…, not destroy it. We also have the blood of the Yarmi Folk, the other four Clans of which we have now surpassed. This gives us an edge over our dark forefather, who verges on madness. But in such darkness great danger lies, for we now know how strong he has become. Even when he came without form to show us the suffering of our ancestors at the great Tomb of Tarkon, his might was clear. We have set plans that come into contact with that evil, but by walking the higher path, we cannot be drawn to either side of the coming battle.
As far as our new arrival is concerned, I think the Sacred have revealed this for a reason. There is purpose behind all that they do, and they often leave a trail of mystery behind. I detect not the vengeful One’s hand, but will not dismiss it entirely. We will probe our new guest, but he is still worthy of respect. I leave him in the hands of Coreema, so approach him only with her approval. This has been a blessing as much as a sharp awakening for all of us, so let us learn all we can, and not disrupt the opportunity to grow ever closer.”
“Yea… to the Unseen,” they answered in unison.
Exhausted, Bane sighed, the turn’s ride had been hard. Checking Hanor’s panting Kyboe close by, the animal strolled across to a bush for nourishment, no doubt missing Hanor’s affections. Walking over, he stroked its neck, the pungent odour of an extensive run matching his own. Forgetting how long it was since his last soak in a hot tub, he was not brave enough to guess when the next one might be.
“You miss him too,” he said, rubbing its ear. “We will find him,” he promised, unnerved that he could be wrong.
Timely, Nole’s Kyboe joined them to feed, the upset immediate. Curbing the rising grief, he had still not come to terms with the loss. Missing them both, the future looked stark, scary even. A changing landscape through the turn had done little to lift his spirits either, colour and life returning. Leaving the decay behind, it felt as though the desolation had claimed part of him too. Thick yellow leaved bushes were good for their Kyboes, but did little to brighten the drabness of his inner world. Wiping a tear, the upset was deep.
“You have been asleep since yester-turn,” Coreema said to Hanor, the young man stretching into life.
Dazed, Hanor took a while to gain his bearings. Comforted when gazing across at her, she came over and sat next to him. Running a soft hand over his brow, he was powerless in her presence.
“How do you feel?” she asked, fascinated by him. Utterly in her hands, and yet, there was something they were clearly missing.
Cool and fresh, the morning was bright. “I am… well,” Hanor managed, taking stock of where he was. “There are questions I want to ask but… I cannot think of anything specific.” Glancing around, a void seemed to encapsulate the treetop chamber, blocking his senses. She was all he could wish for, but something was not as it should be. A pulse of warmth filled his being, caressing his will to let go of the doubts.
“Is there anything I can get you?” she asked, unsure how soon she should start probing for what was hidden. If he was in the hands of the Sacred, then she too was in an honoured position. Praying for guidance on the matter so as not to undermine their purpose, nothing stirred in her heart, interpreting it as a sign to proceed but with care.
“I am a little hungry,” Hanor admitted, not wishing to be intrusive.
Returning from the bush, she handed him a plate of varied fruit and roots along with a small bowl of chilled water. Watching him eat, Hanor was just happy to be in her company. Captivating, even the expanded shape of her head was not unattractive. Unable to think of anyone to compare her with, the fact he could not did not bother him. When finished, she took the plate and returned it to the leaved wall for its removal.
“Today…, I will show you our home and explain what life is like here,” she said, turning back to him. “I will do my best to answer any questions.”
Spindly branches retracted with the plate; there was no shocking reaction from Hanor this time. “Is there somewhere… I can freshen up before we do?” he asked, implying his weathered clothes.
“This place tends to most needs, for it is a living creature of its own accord. We are blessed to live like this.”
Trying to recall how he used to live was difficult, fuzziness blocking any clarity. Again, concerns dissipated, Coreema motioning towards his left. “How wonderful,” he said. Two huge leaves interlinking like hands made a shallow recess for a small pool of water. Without asking, a light purple garb similar to Coreema’s lifted up as if from a storehouse below. “Amazing,” he said, getting used to the movements.
Spending the turn together, Coreema was careful of the affect she was having on Hanor. Respect grew as they walked and talked, he being the delicate flower in her hands. ‘How can someone so weak be so blessed?’ she thought, monitoring him by one of the many small pools populating Yarmoria.
“All of this… does not seem right,” Hanor said, reaching down and dipping his fingers into the dark liquid. Ripples disturbing his reflection were a subtle reminder that he had lost a valuable part of himself.
“It can be a dreamy place,” she said, bending down beside him. Easing back on her mental manipulations, if they were to get answers, he needed freedom to think.
“I do not mean it like that,” he returned, doubtful, his reflection forming again. “It is like these are not my eyes.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are questions I want to ask but cannot put any real meaning to them.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Yes,… and no,” he said, looking up, trying to conceal his feelings for her. “Something inside is trying to be heard, as if suppressed.”
“And what do you think this something wants to know?”
Scratching his head, “Who I was before.” He stopped, relieved, as if the question had been yearning to escape since first arriving.
“Before you came here you mean?” she asked, preparing herself. Numerous times she had retracted her control over him, but this was by far the furthest.
“Yes,” he said, a chain slipping from around his imprisoned mind.
“What can you remember?” Allowing the memory of when they were in her Stay to return, Coreema knew the risk, keeping his emotions under control.
Standing back at the camp in the darkness, Hanor’s recollections were again vivid. Three sleeping figures were familiar but held no meaning. “I do not understand,” he said, disheartened. “I know these people but… why was I with them?”
“Take your time,” Coreema said, watchful, sensitive to his needs. Tempted to take him back to the bridge, but a sharp impression within warned her, Yarma Torna tuning into this exchange. He was right, but the thought of finding out more or experiencing the Sacred again was strong. Refraining, it was for Hanor to remember when he was ready.
Something clicked in Hanor, turning to face her. “You are seeing what I am!”
Unexpected, his insight startled her. Quick to reassure him there was nothing to be frightened of, “You are right, Hanor. I said before there was much to show you, things which at first you would have trouble dealing with. Do you remember this?”
“Er..., kind of.”
“And some of what I have shown you today has taught you what?”
Frowning, “I do not know.”
Determined not to re-impose her control, they had to grant him more independence. “All of what you see here is joined, interwoven, similar to the cupped leaves earlier. This oneness and unity is real and very much a part of our lives. The longer you stay here, the stronger your bond will become. The fact you have realised that I can see some of your past indicates this is true, does it not?”
He shrugged, it did seem reasonable.
“It is nothing to be fearful of, although initially it can be very unusual, and for some, uncomfortable.”
“Can you read all my thoughts?” he asked, in case she could read his feelings for her.
Admitting his whole character was quite delightful, a liking she would have deemed unnecessary, she put his qualms to rest. “No Hanor, I cannot.”
Relieved, “That is good,” he said, staring back into the pool. More himself, but far from free, he felt he was getting stronger.
“We of the Lani Clan do know each others’ thoughts and feelings intimately,” she continued. He deserved to know more, hoping trust could open the door to his past.
“You mean nothing is private?” Oblivious to his own history, he suspected there were parts of his past he would want to keep quiet.
“Everything is open,” she laughed, respecting his doubts. Pleased the situation was easing back in her favour, “There are many benefits from this sort of relationship. I told you we do not live as others do, this is because our course is on a higher path. We overcame the lower parts of our nature long ago, with all of its dark secrets and selfish ambitions. We live as a community, where the whole is greater than the individual. There is much freedom in this, more than you can imagine.”
Hanor remained doubtful. “Where is the mystery of surprise?” His thoughts were definitely clearing.
“But that creates suffering and loneliness. To live for the whole is most rewarding.”
“So how many of my thoughts can you read?”
“I do not see your thoughts individually, I see them as a collection. If you were thinking about your companions at that camp, I would see the camp, and could tell if you were happy or sad, but I cannot see every detail.” Still opting for openness, he looked far from convinced. “Life exists far beyond the limitations of our world, Hanor, with its hasty thoughts and feelings. Have you heard of the Realms of the Soul?”
Straining, but then recognition flashed. Upon his first arrival, he had supposed Yarmoria itself was that fabled place. “Yes…, although I am not sure what it is.”
“Well, there are reasons why life moves forward as it does, full of mystery and wonder. Have you heard of the Sacred?”
Another flare of insight, he nodded.
“The two exist at a higher state of reality than we do. But their world is not based on fear, death and hardship, but on life, creativity and love. Do you not see… the Sacred?”
A flickering memory of an old man in a room talking to him about mysteries shot across his vision. Unable to recall what was said, he pondered the question, dipping his hand into the cool water as he did. Who or what were the Sacred? Glancing up at the enchanted surroundings, lush trees and thick-berried bushes concealed much about this mysterious world. With the odd person walking across the glade, there was no sign of what she asked. “No…, I do not see them.”
“Do you feel Them?”
A strange question, but inner promptings directed his attention. Looking within, he closed his eyes. Doubts subsiding, he followed what seemed to be natural.
To his pleasant surprise, a wonderful peace surfaced, filling his whole body. Breathtaking, the fullness felt warm and tender, washing away qualms with a sweep of its soothing touch. A glow emanated all about him, the calm wonderful. Coreema radiated the same aura too. As quickly as it had come, it dissipated, leaving a void behind.
“Words are inadequate to describe it,” she said, approving. “Would you not want everyone to experience that peace?”
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