Helga- Out of Hedgelands

by Rick Johnson

  “It may not be a bad situation for some...” Bad Bone replied. He was about to go on with an angry complaint about the treatment he had received, but thinking better of it, continued in another vein. “...and the table certainly takes my attention, if it pleases your ladyship.”

  “I hope you have brought appetite with you?” asked his host.

  “If it pleases my lady,” Bad Bone replied, “I swear I have not eaten in a long time. I know not how long I have been here.”

  “A bath seems to sharpen a creature’s appetite,” the Jay observed. “You may eat as much as you like.” Bad Bone attacked the food hungrily.

  “You could get along very well here, visitor,” the Jay repeated. “You have done well. The Keeper of the Light is pleased. She feels that our blessed settlement has found a new citizen today, if he might wish a change...” She paused, seeing the question in Bad Bone’s eyes. “Yes, it is still today. You may be assured that you slept only a couple of hours. You have overcome our defenses with courage and perseverance. You have won our respect!”

  “Overcome your defenses?” Bad Bone asked.

  “Yes. Did you not feel more challenged, and perhaps more frightened, than ever before? Did you not feel the strongest desire you have ever felt to run away in terror? Were you not near to screaming at the torments you encountered? Did you not need more strength and courage than you realized you had?”

  The powerful Lynx looked at the Jay with a flash of understanding on his face.

  “Yes,” the Jay smiled, “what you experienced was our defensive system.” She gazed at him with admiration. “Few visitors ever visit our settlement. We are too remote. It is too dangerous to reach us. Only the very best climbers can come. Some, such as you, are sent by the High One on missions. Others have heard of our blessed community and wish to join it. Most, as you saw, are High Peaks Worthies who come to test themselves against the Desperate Ridges. Each is an arrogant fool. Each considers himself to be the most courageous climber that ever lived. Their pride inspires them to test themselves against the Desperate Ridges. Only a few ever reach our blessed place. We do not need a great defensive force. However, we deeply value our privacy, and do not wish to be disturbed. We do not want visitors loitering about uselessly. So, we do not welcome visitors warmly, as you noticed.” Leaning back in her chair, the Keeper of the Light turned her penetrating glance on Bad Bone.

  “You came here like most visitors, convinced that you were extraordinarily courageous. You thought that no one could beat you at anything. All visitors who come here believe that they are strong and brave. But...they have never had to face themselves as their own worst enemy! That is our defense! We make each visitor battle themselves. We want only the most worthy visitors to stay. Only those who can overcome themselves. Most fail in this test. You, however, have done well.”

  Bad Bone sat quietly, considering what the Jay had said. He now understood what had happened to him, except for one thing. “If it pleases your ladyship,” Bad Bone asked, “who were the furred creatures standing in line behind the inn?”

  “Ah,” the Jay replied, “those are the creatures who are afraid to face themselves. They failed in the first trial and desired to run away, but found they had nowhere to run. Realizing that they could not overcome themselves, they gave way before the fear and weakness that lived within them. Although they climbed up here full of prideful assurance, they no longer have the courage and confidence to climb back down. These contemptible beasts now wait at the back of the inn for scraps from this table each day. They are no trouble to us. They think only of the deliverer they hope will come and rescue them. Such is the nature of most furred creatures,” she concluded contemptuously.

  Bad Bone looked at the Jay with horror.

  “No, no,” she laughed. “They are not prisoners. They might leave anytime they wish. But they await some bold creature to rescue them. Alas, there are few such creatures among the furred ones. But, there are the rare ones...Someday, a truly heroic climber will come to our settlement and overcome our defenses. He will receive our offer to stay with contempt and desire to lead these poor, frightened fools back down the mountain to their old life below. Perhaps you are that peerless climber...perhaps not. We shall see. You may have a delightful life here in our blessed settlement, or you may lead the poor fools back down the mountain. Or, you may decide to leave them as they are. We shall see. We shall see.”

  A Fateful Day Dawns

  On Clear Water’s Day, the greatest festival of the year, Hedgies rose early and put on their finest clothes. As soon as royal watchers saw the first beam of sunlight over the eastern mountains, a great chorus of trumpets sounded, announcing the start of the festival. Even before that, however, there was little sleeping for anyone. The night before Clear Water’s Day wee beasts hardly slept a wink:

  “Hurry up, Mama! All the Squint Buns will be gone before we even get a chance at them!”

  “Now you just hold your ladle, you little whiff! The sun’s not even up yet! There’s no Squint Buns to be had yet—so you just hold your ladle and wait a bit.” And so it went in many homes long before dawn.

  Even if some creature managed to sleep through the trumpets, he would surely be wakened by the ringing of every bell and chime in the realm which followed. In any case, once the sun peeked over the eastern mountains, and the trumpets sounded, and the bells rang, every creature poured into the streets. For the next twenty-four hours, every avenue thronged with revelers. Homes and public houses echoed with laughter and song. Dancing, contests of wile and strength, games, and carnivals continued around the clock. Rotter Wine and Frog’s Belch Ale flowed freely. And wee beasts devoured small, sweet Squint Bread Buns—a holiday favorite—by the wagonload.

  Work was suspended and Hedgies barely slept. Grabbing naps now and then, eating on the run, barely stopping to change clothes, no one wanted to miss a single moment of the great annual party. Every street was garlanded with bright lights and spectacular streamers.

  After the first rays of the sun shone over the eastern mountains, the trumpets and bells called attention to the critical moment when the first rays of morning sun touched the tip of Clear Water Peak. This eagerly anticipated moment—coming 20 minutes after the first sound of trumpets—was marked as archers sent a volley of a thousand flaming arrows in a grand arc high over the town. The volley of arrows signaled the start of a great procession.

  From every corner of every village and town, Hedgies thronged to attend the solemn ‘First Touch’ ceremony held in the village High Seat. Every town had such town halls, crowned by a soaring pinnacle of stone. At the precise moment the sun’s disk first touched the top of Clear Water Peak at sunrise, the archers’ volley of arrows signaled it was time to gather.

  From all parts of town the various clans of Hedgies came, rank upon rank, becoming one mighty procession flowing into the High Seat. Coming out from their houses, flooding down the side streets and alleyways into many broad, straight avenues radiating out from the High Seat like the spokes of a wheel. By rank and class the Hedgies chose their particular avenue and made their way to the High Seat.

  Innumerable colorful banners hung from every window, happy cart vendors threw fruit from their carts, and here and there wee beasts clung to the branches of trees calling out the names of friends as they passed. As more and more beasts joined the processions streaming toward the High Seat, they were crushed tightly into a richly pungent throng. Strong smells of sweat and breath mixed with odors of perfumed fur, smoldering herbs, and flaming pine oil torches. The intense energy of the different clan processions took on different forms as they moved down their distinctive avenues. Singing and sing-song howling, drums, rattles, bells, clapping and stomping—each procession found its own rhythm.

  When the clan processions reached the High Seat, each entered one of the arched entrances that ringed the huge oval building. According to tradition, the first to enter were the Sky Elk, the personal representatives of the High One. Decked o
ut in their ornately embroidered gold and scarlet robes, they matched the huge hall set lavishly with dazzling gold and scarlet tiles. Keepers of the stories of the Ancient Heroes and scholars of the heavens, the Sky Elk triumphantly raised their long ceremonial telescopes in sign of rank as they entered the hall. Hedgies tossed strips of colored cloth or string across the long telescopes as the Sky Elk passed, showing honor to these favorites of the High One. Following the Sky Elk came a long train of dignitaries: Glazier Dogs, Stone Ducks, Climbing Lynx, and so on from the highest classes down to the lowest ones.

  As the Sky Elk passed through the great entrance doorway, guards on each side of the doorway dropped to one knee as a sign of respect for the High One, the king whose word was law. Appointed by the ‘First One and the Last One’ to rule over the Mountain Tops, the line of High Ones stretched into the misty past. By virtue of his rule over the Mountain Tops, the High One was believed to be the very mouthpiece of the Ancient Heroes. The High One, as King of all Hedgeland, appointed Keepers of the Light who ruled each class according to their work. From this principle of rank, the whole of Hedgie society was ordered.

  The clan entrances led into a system of corkscrew ramps. The spiraling ramps allowed huge crowds to enter the High Haven quickly, while keeping the clans separated from each other by rank. Ascending in a series of long winding curves the ramps twined around and around without ever meeting. Walls of translucent stone lined the entrance ramps. Intricate images carved into the stone pulsed with weird, undulating patterns of light. Torchlight behind the translucent stone sent flashing tendrils of light that seemed to make the images move like living things.

  As the grand procession filed into the “Thousand Tiers Hall,” the cavernous center of the High Seat, the corkscrew entrance ramps fed the Hedgie clans into their particular level of seating. Each clan was accorded a seat of honor and distinction above the next lower in rank. Sloping steeply downward and away from the center of the Hall, the tiers of seats circled the center like a gigantic inverted cone. From the very center of the cone there rose a cylindrical stone stairway leading to a platform just below the top of the dome.

  Among the first dignitaries to enter the High Seat were individuals being accorded special honors. At the very head of the order of dignitaries was a Glazier Dog by the name of FoRoar-2036. Head held high with pride, he marched smartly into the High Seat, receiving honors for his recent history-making completion of the sacred climb.

  FoRoar loved the pageantry of the ‘First Touch’ ceremonies—the pungent smell of incense, the brightly-colored tunics worn by differing clans, the stirring music from the gigantic choir, and the solemn chanting of the Keepers of the Light. He reveled in every bit of the pomp and pageantry. Not to a small extent, he was also pleased to be surrounded by the most distinguished and powerful creatures of the Hedgelands. He had brought the highest honor on himself and his clan. In one of the seating areas reserved for honored guests, his mother wept with pride. His sacrifice for the homeland had been worth it.

  FoRoar-2036 let his eyes play across the magnificent translucent carvings that covered the walls of the entrance concourse as he entered the High Seat. The carvings flickered in weird, undulating patterns of light. Yet, whatever the pattern, the carvings captured every bit of light as if it were flame—seeming to pulse with life before FoRoar’s sight. His heart beat more rapidly. All the heroic scenes in the majestic story of the Hedgies were recorded in these masterpieces.

  Each told of the great events and famous heroes in the days when the world was young.

  Foremost in FoRoar’s mind today was the carving honoring Clear Water. It showed Clear Water coming at a time when the creatures were dying from a terrible, unknown disease. An intricate design portrayed Clear Water as a visionary healer who saw that travelers were carrying disease into the Hedgelands. Images depicted him turning travelers away and not letting them come again. The picture-story also showed how he taught the creatures that they must be clean and keep their food and water pure. Creatures were shown rejoicing and celebrating Clear Water’s teachings.

  To prevent deadly diseases from ever again being brought in from outside, travel was forbidden. A great hedgewall—the Forever End—was planted, and for over a thousand years, it was extended, year-by-year. Trunks and branches of hedge trees were carefully woven together as they grew. It became a ‘living wall’ impossible to penetrate. The great Hedge ran for thousands of miles—a vast enclosure surrounding the Hedgelands. Once it was completed, travel beyond the Hedge almost completely ceased. FoRoar-2036 honored the work of the forefathers who had so wisely protected the creatures.

  “Hear and listen, all Hedgelanders! Hear and listen!” The cry of the Sky Elk herald brought FoRoar-2036 out of his reflections. The ceremony was about to begin.

  “Today,” the herald went on, “we mark a beautiful milestone in the sun’s walk through the heavens. As the sun touches Clear Water Peak, that Ancient Hero’s spirit is at home on earth, reminding us of his teachings. Through this annual renewal, the world again is given the gift of rebirth. As the sun moves through all the ‘First Touch’ Days, each of the gifts of creation is renewed.”

  FoRoar’s devotion to his homeland deepened as he considered the great history of the Hedgie creatures. “Oh, Ancient Heroes, I feel small and unworthy as I consider the glory of your gifts! Long live the Hedgelands!” he sighed, as love for his homeland surged through him. It was a very heady feeling.

  FoRoar-2036 was lost in such thoughts for a time, as he tuned out the well-known words of the herald. Then a great blare of trumpets jarred him back to attention. The herald had finished his speech and the Keepers of the Light, representing all ranks, chanted the ancient verse of loyalty to the High One. Kneeling in front of all those assembled, the Keepers of the Light affirmed their loyalty to the High One:

  When lofty First One, king of the Mountains,

  and Last One, king of the Creatures,

  Who rules all that is, Gave the Mountain Tops

  to the firstborn of the High One, He made Great Peace,

  When the Mountains quit their shaking,

  and the Creatures stood and spoke it was so.

  When in the midst of the Mountains the creatures

  became One in the High One’s Law,

  The First One and the Last One

  made Mountains and Creatures one,

  So the High One rules,

  As long as the sun touches the High One’s realm,

  He enlightens the Creatures.

  What Light we have is from Him,

  and any Light we find,

  We keep solely by His grace.

  When the chanting was complete, the Sky Elk’s Keeper of the Light rose to read the High One’s annual Royal Proclamation.

  A hush fell over the vast hall. All eyes were fixed on the Sky Elk’s Keeper of the Light as he slowly and majestically mounted to the high speaker’s platform. No one spoke. Once the Keeper of the Light had begun his climb to the place of honor, it was considered an insult against the High One to speak before the High One’s proclamation had been read. The high platform was silhouetted from above by a large starburst of deep red glass tiles illuminated by the only opening to outside light. Unlike the undulating multicolored shimmer of the torchlit entrance ramps, the platform—and whoever stood there—was surrounded by a blazing red glow. Hidden lenses set in the wall behind the starburst collected sunlight and sent fiery shafts of light radiating outward along the fingers of the starburst. The cone arrangement of the tiers of seats placed every beast in a position to look up at the platform—silhouetting the speaker on the platform in the red starburst. It was a stunning sight.

  As the Keeper of the Light ascended toward the platform, an organ—used only on this annual occasion—began playing. The high curving ceiling of the High Seat amplified the organ notes into an astonishing musical thunder. The sound rose to an eerie roar as the Keeper of the Light reached the platform. It rattled candleholders, shook do
ors, and every beast present felt the vibration in his or her chest. The overall effect of music, pageantry, crowding, and light was both mesmerizing and terrifying.

  This year there was a special feeling of mystery in the air that had never been present before. Whispers and mutterings said the High One’s proclamation would be like no other year. Confused and conflicting rumors flew that for the first time in Hedgelands history, the High One had recalled his proclamation! In the days since the unheard of attack by the rebellious Wood Cow, the High One had been silent. Rumors said that Fropperdaft VIII was preparing some great and drastic punishment for the Wood Cows. But there had been no message or sign of any kind from the royal sovereign. The rumor that the annual proclamation had been recalled was ominous.

  By the custom of ages, Weasel Couriers delivered the High One’s proclamation to the Keepers of the Light in every village several days in advance of Clear Water’s Day. This allowed the Keepers of the Light to know what the proclamation contained and be prepared to implement its message. As always, Weasel Couriers had delivered the proclamation to each Keeper of the Light. But, three days after the proclamation was delivered, the unprecedented attack by the rebel Wood Cow occurred.

  The unprecedented attack shocked and alarmed Fropperdaft to his very core. Such rebellion could not be condoned. The Wood Cows had always been problems for the High Ones. Long ago, the Wood Cows first got into trouble with the High Ones because of their great love for trees. Trouble and hard feelings arose between Wood Cows and the High Ones because the Wood Cows defended trees from rude treatment or abuse. Most Hedgies considered things growing from the earth to be unclean and contemptible. Since trees had the deepest roots into the earth, they were treated the worst. But Wood Cows, from time immemorial, had refused to burn wood in fires. And they built with wood as if it were a holy act. Wood Cows always invited a tree to become a chair or a table or a building. They would never simply go out and cut a tree down. This was a deep affront to the teachings of the High Ones, but it was not the worst of the Wood Cow offenses.