Time Odyssey: The Soul's Memory; Part I, Dreamtime

by J. F. Weckesser

  “I know it is asking a lot,” said Ropl Du Meh. “Parting with a son for the remainder of his childhood is more than difficult. I only want you to consider it, in Edak’s best interests.” 

  Ogra and Rehm stared at each other beseechingly, then Ogra looked longingly at Edak. “I would miss him terribly if he were gone,” she finally said. “If I couldn’t see him every fortnight as now, what would I do? Yet, what kind of life can we give such a special child?” 

  Klad had changed the string’s design now and was ready for Edak to take it, but he sat ignored, for the older boy saw only the drama at the hearth. 

  “Edak,” said Rehm. 

  Edak stood quickly. 

  “What are your thoughts now?” 

  Edak wanted to scream, to answer, “I don’t know! I can’t think! Choose for me!” But he was a boy of Mu, a child of high culture and self-control. He answered with the good manners of his country. “Mother, Father, I would always be happy near you, in this house. But I yearn for knowledge, too.” His anguished eyes roamed the dirt floor, as if the answer were written there. “I’m so confused,” he said. “I must ask you to decide for me.” 

  Faraway sounds of flutes and shells broke the silence inside the stone walls. Edak stood stiffly before them and wondered if it would be a blessing for his heart to stop beating now, ending this misery. After what seemed like a day and a night, Rehm said softly, “My boy must go. There is nothing we can give him here.” 

  Edak wanted to dance with joy and scream in pain the rest of the evening. While the adults discussed travel arrangements, financing and the boy’s new school, Edak sat quietly on his mat, his back resting on the wall, sadly drinking in the sight of his beloved family. 

  He was to leave in a week.

  Ropl Du Meh stayed the night, as it was nearly dark by the time the plans were completed. Nighttime in Mu was always dangerous for young and old alike. The large animals gave no concern for the age of their meat. 

  * *

  The next day, Edak walked down to the temple with his teacher to share a few last words. The night had been long and sleepless. “How will I know what to do, how to act in Atlan?” he asked. “Their culture is so different than ours.” 

  Ropl Du Meh put his arm paternally around Edak’s shoulder. “Do not let such minor concerns worry you. They will work out. You will like your teacher, I am sure. Seratl Ti is renowned as a top educator.” He saw the fretful look in Edak’s face and patted the back of his head. “Don’t be ashamed even for a moment to be yourself. Didn’t Trami fit in with us when he was here? Pureblooded Atlantean, yet he was no different, really, than the rest of us. Some of his mannerisms were different than ours, but that was all. Simply mannerisms.”

  He looked into Edak’s face. “Remember that always, Edak. We may look different, wear our clothes and hair differently, eat different foods and embrace different politics and religions. Yet we are the same where it matters.” 

  The smell of fresh bread emanated from the marketplace they neared. “We all want to love and be loved,” he continued, “to have friends and be accepted, and to use our talents. Especially keep in mind, we all have the same Life Energy flowing through us, and that is our common gift from the Great Force.” 

  Edak studied his mentor’s face as he went about the marketplace buying melons, fish and bread, for it wasn’t likely he would see him again for many years. “It would be so much easier if you would go with me, to explain the new land to me,” he said, hoping desperately that there might be a way. 

  They left the merchants’ stalls, a bundle of foodstuff wrapped in palm leaves under Ropl Du Meh’s arm. “I know, Edak, I know. Life is difficult at times. But you must do this alone.”

  “I’ll write you often of my new life,” said Edak. “Will you keep me informed of yours and of the other students?” 

  “Of course. In fact, your life abroad will give my boys good reading, writing and geography lessons.”

  They reached the temple and fell into an awkward silence. Wind blew Edak’s hair around his shoulders and into his face. He didn’t notice, but stared hard at his teacher. “I’ll miss you very much,” he stressed.

  “As I will miss you, my friend. More than you know.” 

  They embraced for a long moment. Then Ropl Du Meh pulled away and said, “Let’s not linger anymore. The pain of parting is great, and we must get on with our lives. I hold you in my heart as a father does his child. Go now. You have so much before you. Farewell.” 

  “Farewell,” said Edak, his throat cramping. He turned and walked home, oblivious to the noise of the merchants, the laughter of children and the bleating of goats. Only the memories of a childhood now gone played before him.

  * *

  Seven days came and went in a blur. He packed his meager belongings—a fresh tunic, an extra thong to fasten his braid, and a few toiletries—in a sack, then looked around his home one last time. He had to remember every stone, every piece of pottery, every bit of space of the hut where he was born. When he was lonely, he planned to pretend he was lying on his own comforting mat, with Mother at the hearth. 

  “Come now, son,” said Rehm softly. “The ship is probably at port now.” 

  Klad, Edak, Ogra and Rehm slowly walked down the path to the river. All communities of Mu were built on a waterway, for there were no roads through the wilderness. As this village was situated at the river’s mouth at the Murian Bay, merchant ships came in from the ocean, making this a sea-trading port. Edak had often come down to watch his father at work, loading and unloading the big ships. He dreamed of one day climbing aboard and seeing where they went. Now that he was about to embark, he was miserable. 

  Noise and confusion rang out everywhere on the dock as people from all parts of the world went about their work. Deep-brown, nearly black men from Kush toted baskets of melons and dates, sesame and castor oils. They wore short tunics of gauze, which allowed the wind to cool them from sweltering rays. Light-pink men from Uruk, covered nearly completely—usually with blue and white ankle-length robes—brought barley and wheat for food, flax for linen. Their hair always seemed so strange to Edak—all colors, ranging from black to brown to red, yellow and white, and it grew profusely all over their bodies—including their faces. And blue eyes that seemed almost frightening. One could actually watch their pupils grow larger and smaller.

  Yellow-hued people from Hwai Do wore short loose pants of colorful design. They were bare-chested and their muscles strained and rippled while they worked. They brought in silk and pepper. And of course, all about were Atlantean and East Mayran red people, but mostly brown people from Mu and Og. Edak never tired of seeing such contrasts all in one place. The din of strange tongues rose up in loud cacophony. 

  Yet today, Edak gave no notice. His heart tore with pain and he sank into feelings of dread and grieving. “That is an Atlantean ship,” said Rehm, pointing. “That must be the one.” 

  Edak stared at the vessel, the biggest and sleekest in port. His stomach tightened. “It must be, then,” he said quietly. He looked hard at his family. His lower lip trembled.

  Klad started to cry. “I’ll miss you, Edak,” he sobbed, and held his brother tightly around the waist. “Will you remember me?” 

  It was hard to speak with such a tight throat. “Klad, you are such joy in my life. That memory will live forever in my heart.” He squatted down so as to hold Klad closer to him. “When I see you again, you’ll be nearly a man. I’ll miss you every day.” 

  He stood and saw his father’s strained face. Rehm took a gold medallion out from under his tunic and slipped it up over his head. This was the insignia of the land of Mu—a round, golden disk with a ruby in the center. It was Rehm’s most treasured possession, an heirloom he wore only on the most high feast days. Why is he wearing it today? Why did he take it off? 

  Rehm stepped over to Edak and solemnly placed it around his neck. Edak was stunned. 

  “The disk is the sun,
” said Rehm. “It symbolizes the Great Force of the universe, the Light. The ruby is the rose—your soul, opening to radiate the Light.”

  He held Edak’s cheeks in his hands. “It is yours now—to remind you of who you are. When you feel lonely, place your hand on it and think of our love for you.” 

  Edak clasped this most precious of possessions with both hands. 

  Rehm laid his hands on the boy’s shoulders, his voice thick. “Learn all you can of the world, my son. But never forget where you have come from or the high ideals of your people. I want right now to cling to you, to hold you and keep you here with us. But it is best that you go. I would never forgive myself if I insisted that you stay, just to appease a father’s love.”

  He hugged Edak hard. “Go,” he whispered. “Grow, and know how much we love you.” 

  Ogra kissed and hugged her son over and over. Then, her face wet and red, she said, “You are such a good boy. I will miss you always, my son, until the day you return. Be safe. Do well.” 

  Edak tried to linger over each moment, to make it last forever. He soaked in the warmth of his mother’s arms for the last time. The pain was almost more than he could bear. “Mother, Father,” he cried. “I will do my best, for you. You will be in my mind and heart always.” 

  And he left his mother’s grasp. 

  * * * *

  Chapter 7

  “Boy!” bellowed a gruff voice. “We’re leaving now!” Edak’s eyes shot up to the ship. Over the rail a grizzled, middle-aged man glared fiercely down at the family. A dirty brown robe hung loosely on him, accentuating a thatch of shoulder-length gray hair. “We’re tired of waiting for you!” he snarled. “Get aboard or stay there!” 

  This was the captain.

  Edak grabbed his sack and scrambled up the wooden ramp to the ship, fearful yet strangely relieved that he didn’t have to linger any longer with his family. He couldn’t bear to see them so distraught.

  He made his way to the rail and bleakly watched the ship’s crew take up the ramp and set sail. Rehm and Ogra waved and Klad ran up and down the dock calling out inaudible messages. Edak waved forlornly and watched them as they disappeared from sight around the bend. 

  He heaved a sigh, resolving that he would not allow himself to think of them anymore. He would explore the new surroundings and ignore the pain in his heart. He looked around at the activity all about. The gentle rolling beneath his feet made him nervous. It didn’t feel safe. The Atlantean spoken all about was coarser than taught at Ropl Du Meh’s school. Yet he knew he could—he must—adjust. 

  The vessel was a cargo freighter, not a passenger ship. It carried spices and wool into Mu and fruits and incense back to Atlan. Rehm and Ogra could only afford the boy’s schooling but not enough for the comfortable quarters of a liner. Rehm had met the captain of this vessel while working at the docks not long before. After assuring himself this was an honest person, Rehm had talked him into boarding Edak for the trip, in exchange for odd jobs on the way. 

  It was not to be an easy time, for the captain was not a likable man. His leathery face was gnarled by the weather and an angry scowl. A missing front tooth gave him a nearly demented appearance and disheveled hair made him look half-wild. His voice sounded like a log being dragged through gravel. 

  “Boy, the first thing you can do is run to the galley and fetch me a pot of tea!” 

  Edak would soon learn that the captain spoke no softer than a yell. And though he was familiar with the Atlantean language, this dialect was coarse. He cringed at the sound. “Yes, sir. And where is the galley?” 

  The captain glared at him, his eyes black narrow slits; then he stomped off, stiff leather sandals echoing slaps through the planks. “Ask one of the men!” he roared. “Don’t bother me! Just bring me tea!” He pushed through a doorway and yelled, “In my room here!” The door slammed behind him. 

  Edak had never been spoken to harshly in his life and he was frightened. He dropped his belongings where he stood and left at a full run, stopping at the first man he saw—a large, black hulk stooped over a pile of canvas. “Excuse me. Could you tell me where I can find the galley?” 

  The sailor looked up from repairing a sail and scratched his short black beard of tight curls. He stood up, a giant of a man with enormous arms and shoulders, which made the knee-length white tunic he was wearing look almost comically small. Edak hoped he was friendlier than the captain. 

  “Oh ho! And what do we have here?” he asked in a voice deeper than Rehm’s. “Looks like a little ship rat up from the bilge.” The man threw his head back and laughed robustly. 

  Edak stood small and insignificant, though he was nearly as tall as the man. “Please, sir. I am earning my keep and passage to Atlan by doing odd jobs for the captain. Right now he is asking for tea, and he does not seem to be a patient man. Do you know the way to the galley?”

  The big man chuckled, his black eyes dancing. “It’s true. Captain Ragna is somewhat lacking in humor,” he said. “As for the galley, I know the way. I will even take you there. Come.” 

  Edak joined him, glad to have a companion. As he followed, Edak observed this odd person, so different than the people he was used to seeing. The man’s dark arms were like tree trunks and he lumbered almost like a bear. Yet he didn’t seem to have a bit of fat on him. Clearly, this man was strong. Sweat glistened down his dark body. “I am Tuli from Kush,” he said. “And who might you be, little ship rat?” 

  “I am Edak from Mu. I am to finish my education in Atlan, in the province of Aryaz in the city of the same name.” 

  Tuli studied the slender lad, so completely opposite himself. “So, we have a scholar with us. Good for you. You won’t have to break your back to have bread on your table.” He slapped Edak good-naturedly on the shoulder. “Though I wouldn’t give up travel and adventures for all the food and comforts in the world. A sailor’s life can be a happy lot.”

  Edak liked this coarse hulk. “How did you come to be a sailor, Tuli, sir?”

  “You needn’t call me ‘sir.’ I’m a regular man like everyone else. Save your ‘sirs’ for the captain. As for being a sailor, well, it seems I didn’t have much of a choice. The only life I could have in my village would be as a farmer, or a herder of cattle. Neither was to my liking. Herding cattle would have been too boring, and can you see me, Tuli, tilling the soil?” Again he laughed. “Never! 

  “No, sailing was really the only choice for me. And here I am, happy and free. My home is nowhere, but my home is everywhere. I belong to no woman, yet I belong to every woman.” A bellow of laughter roared up from his lungs. Edak smiled but didn’t understand. 

  Halfway down the steep narrow stairs, a blast of strange cooking smells bombarded their nostrils. Near a tiled oven enclosed by a stone wall stood a skinny small-boned man, mixing something in a bowl. “Seri!” said Tuli loudly. “We have a ship rat on board and he wants tea. His name is Edak.” 

  Seri gave a sideways glance over at Edak but didn’t smile or speak. He was a black man, probably from Kush, but wasn’t as dark-skinned as Tuli. Certainly he didn’t have his joy for life. 

  “It’s for the captain,” Edak said quietly, after he had waited long enough for Seri to reply. 

  “Hmp. Okay. Stand out of the way and I’ll fix it,” said Seri. Edak noticed that his teeth looked rotten and he wondered if they hurt him. 

  “Well, I’ve got work to do,” said Tuli, ascending the stairs. “I’ll let you two get acquainted.” He began to whistle and walked off, and when Seri returned to his chore and Tuli’s melody echoed and faded, Edak felt uncomfortable and very alone. 

  He stood near the steps so he wouldn’t bother Seri, who prepared the tea, poured it in a clay carafe and covered it with an upended cup. He put it on a tray, added some bread and handed it all to Edak. “Hurry with this to Ragna. He doesn’t like to wait.” 

  How well Edak knew that. He thanked Seri and scurried up the steps. He thought he might see Tuli
on the way back but he wasn’t in sight. At the captain’s door he knocked twice, took a deep breath, then entered with the refreshments. His hands shook and he concentrated on holding the tray tightly, lest he spill it. “Sir, your tea is here, along with some bread.” He smiled slightly. Perhaps Captain Ragna would find favor with him. 

  Ragna was seated at his table and didn’t look up from the maps he was studying. “Good! It’s about time! Now I want you to make this room neat and clean, then go out and mend sails so the sailors are free for men’s work! One of the men will show you how!” 

  It was clear Ragna didn’t like Edak, and he had no plan as to how he could change that. So he set about his tasks as quickly as possible, hoping he would get used to his chores and that the trip to Atlan would soon be over. He had so wanted to enjoy the sights along the coast and sea. No chance of that now, he realized, for he would forever be stooped in labor. 

  It wasn’t long before Ragna’s room was as clean as he could make it and he hurried out to the place he had seen Tuli mending sails, hoping he would be there to teach him.

  He was heartened to find Tuli there. He looked up at Edak’s approach. “Ah, ship rat! You’ve returned.” 

  “Yes sir...I mean Tuli. The captain wants me to mend sails so you’ll be free for men’s work. Uh...could you teach me how?” 

  “Of course. Very simple. Here is the thread, here is the needle, here is the leather palm guard, here are the patches. And over here,” he said, pointing to a large heap of canvas, “are the sails. Watch closely while I put this patch on.” 

  Edak watched every move of Tuli’s thick, strong hands. It didn’t seem too hard. Fold the worn edges to the inside, put a patch slightly larger than the hole on one side, jab the needle through the cloth with the leather-protected palm of the hand, and stitch around the edges, repeating with a patch on the other side. 

  “Now,” said Tuli, standing, “you do it and I’ll watch you.” 

  Edak’s long, slender fingers didn’t make stitches as fine as Tuli’s and he stuck himself repeatedly; but soon, with a glow of accomplishment, he had the first patch on. He looked at Tuli hopefully.