by Julian Cheek
They walked carefully down across the scattered rocks and boulders, mindful of any of them becoming loose under foot, occasionally having to evade the odd rouge wave as it crashed against the rocks near them. As they walked, Sam’s thoughts turned to his predicament. How did I land up here and where on earth is here anyway?
“This is not earth as you know it,” came the surprising thought back to him. “You are here because you must be here. You are here because we are here. You are here because you are The One, chosen by the Ethereals. And yet, I am at a loss as to why you remain!”
Babu continued stepping over the boulders until he reached the shingle beach beyond, where he sat down and started preening himself, all the while ensuring that eye contact was avoided…
He continued, exhaling loudly. “But we are Babu. We are assigned and joined with you and as such, we walk where we must, without question. Trusting and waiting, always waiting for our destiny to be realised. We yearn for the time that was and the time yet to come, but,” and with that, Babu turned to face Sam, as if at last resigned to ask what had been causing his distress. “But we fail to see right now where The One ends and Sam of the Shades begins! This mystery is beyond us.”
Sam, having just evaded one near disaster, was certainly not ready to have this other one hit him so forcefully and he responded in kind. “Babu, I have no idea what you are on about. You surely cannot suggest that the bloody earthquake had anything whatsoever to do with me!” As was rapidly becoming the norm to him in this weird place, he felt that everyone, including Babu now, was somehow expecting him to perform miracles in a place he knew nothing about, had never intended on visiting, and, more importantly, was, after all, just a bloody dream!
“You and we are one,” cut across his thoughts.
“So you keep reminding me!”
“Maunga-Atua and you are one also!”
Sam was completely lost in where this conversation was going. “Who the bloody hell is Munga toa?” he shouted.
“Not who,” Babu replied, “what.” And he looked out over the sea as he continued. “This place you see as just a dream world,” prompting Sam to look out over the ocean, “is our world. Maunga-Atua, the mountain of the gods, it exists as much as you do standing there. And, as Ngaire and Ma-aka and Pania, and Pip and all the others you have been in contact with, from when you arrived, through to when you can remember, and up till now, have all been telling you the same thing. You, Sam, are not here by some random chance. You are not here through some fanciful imagination concocting this place. No. You are here because you were chosen. The only one in all worlds and dimensions, in all times and perceptions, chosen, searched for, found, and brought here, for one purpose and one purpose only. To stop that which will destroy all. Sam, you and this place are as closely linked as you and us are. And one day, we hope and yearn, you will remember again, and Lord Elim will rue the day he ever thought to destroy you and stop the Anahim from pursuing freedom.”
Sam looked across at this strange creature in front of him. The same one who had scared the bejesus out of him when he first remembered this weird place. The same who came to his rescue when he was surrounded by those marauders in the tent. The same, he recalled, who somehow, managed to extricate an arrow from his chest and patch him up. The same, Sam thought to himself, who I have treated like absolute dirt for no reason other than he scares me and yet, he remains by my side. Whether by choice or by will, he is here, with me and I have somehow caused him great hurt. Great! Again with the stuff up, Sam.
Before he could continue further with this self-depreciation, Babu cut across him. “Sam, we are here not by instruction. We are here because, like so many, we see and we believe. We believe in you, Sam, and whilst we are unsure what happened when you tackled The Nameless One, you remain intrinsically you and, for that, we stay by your side. We are unlike all other Padme in that we can exist without melding with an individual, but with you, we chose to. Sam, we chose to. To be with you, through all weather. We chose you, as the Anahim chose you too.”
Sam knew, without doubt, at some deep level, that pure truth, and more, had been spoken. Babu, despite his creepy looks and googly eyes and talons that could rip the face off anyone, belonged to him. No! Not to him, he corrected himself, with him. Willingly. Constantly. To the end, whatever that might mean.
Sam turned away. It reminded him too much of David and he feared he was not ready or able to open up to anyone or anything again right now. The real fear, he knew, was that if he opened up to another, how would he cope if he had to lose that which was closest to his heart once more. How can you compare bloody Babu with David? he rebuked himself. But he knew that truth had been uttered and this time, from his heart. For some inexplicable reason, he, Sam, felt a complete and utterly unexpected “Oneness” with this strange creature, and it soothed his heart.
“Why do you keep calling yourself, We?” he asked Babu, trying to move away from the mix of emotions coursing through his mind.
“Is an egg one, or three?” Babu challenged. “Is the shell more important than the yolk? Or the yolk more important than the egg white?” Sam wondered where this was going. “All coexist together,” Babu continued. “None bigger than the other. All needing each other and yet it is called a singular, an egg. In a similar way, and this is difficult to explain easily, we are not just shell or yolk. What you perceive us to be here, this creature walking on the beach, is like the shell. When we communicate with you, we do not need the shell to be able to do so and indeed, being able to talk to you even if we were in the farthest reaches of the mountains of Kairaki, the sky eater and you were in the depths of the mighty Moana, the mother ocean, this shell would have no part in us being together in mind. This is like the yolk. And then there is the last, the egg white if you will. Sam, we don’t just communicate in words and thoughts. We don’t just physically walk side by side, we also are One. Do you know what I mean? You can already sense when I am in danger, in the same way I knew I needed to come to your aid when that coward, Napayshni of the Bjarke, attacked you in Ōmakere. You did not call, but I came. Being One, sometimes, even communication is not enough. The egg white. We all exist together. A family. Independent and inter dependant at the same time. We. But we are called a singular, Babu.”
Sam laughed inwardly at the simplicity and the sheer enormity of what he had just heard. It somehow gelled with him as nothing else in his life had done before. “I think I know what you mean,” he said. “I somehow know without knowing. And that, my dear friend, Babu, is as deep as I am prepared to go right now!” Sam found himself grinning as he looked at Babu who, with one shake of his tail, blinked knowingly and reassuringly at Sam and turned away again to continue their journey.
“What happened?” Sam asked as he limped along the beach, pointing up towards the top of the cliff face. “How did I finish up at the bottom of that hole and what happened to Baradin?” he grimaced as he thought of little Pit and his father, Niko. Were they alright? Safe?
“As you will come to realise,” Babu replied, “Maunga-Atua is being hit on a number of levels by The Nameless One. The Nephilim, under Lord Elim, have driven their disease throughout the world to bring destruction against the Ethereals.
“Until recently, this was usually against their people, as you have already witnessed, and before that, when you were powerful, they also attacked the very fabric of this place and the universe around it. You started to stop this advance before you were lost to the mist.” Babu looked again at Sam as he said this and Sam had no response to give. How could he when he had no recollection of anything that was supposed to have happened prior to when he was first aware of this place? Dream world though it was. Babu continued.
“It would appear that he has decided to attack the fabric once more, and the earthquake you experienced may well be only the start of his next chapter. You ran off when the first quake hit Baradin and then you disappeared into the large hole that had opened up in front of you. Luckily you didn’t see
it and so you were relaxed as you fell, but you still hit your head on the way down. We were lucky to find you alive!”
“And what of Pit, and Niko and the people of Baradin?” Sam asked. “Did any of them survive?”
“Of that, I do not know,” Babu replied. “Many dead, no doubt. Many more injured. The fishermen all disappeared and they are lost. As for the village, Baradin is a shell. There is great hurt there as in all places where the Nephilim are allowed to direct the Bjarke.” Again, Sam sensed that Babu was not saying what he was feeling, but he didn’t press him further. He wanted to get up to the village and see if he could help in some way. See if Pit was still alive.
Sam noticed now that the beach line ran back into an inlet, partly protected from the waves by a large sand bank, although this had been destroyed by the recent earthquake. And torn trees and huge boulders now lay haphazardly around, having been hurled from the top of the cliff above to smash into the ground around them. Sam noticed a few boats were in the inlet. Some overturned, others, strewn around the rocks and smashed to smithereens, timbers and spars mixed with torn sails and rigging and stillness greeted them as they approached.
“Be careful,” Babu warned. “We do not know what has happened in these parts. We sense much here, none of which is comforting! We are in a bad place.”
Passing the first few boats which had been hurled up onto the beach, Sam saw a few fishermen standing around a still form lying on the shingle. They were all swarthy and bearded and were lost in their silence and concentration as they gazed down at the form. As they approached, Sam saw that it was of a man. Face down. Still. Dressed like one of the fishermen. Blood oozed and caked around his head and his neck was bent backwards in an unnatural position, broken beyond repair.
One of the men noticed them drawing near and beckoned to the others, who looked up to see who was approaching. Babu’s scales along the ridge of his back suddenly extended and his tongue darted out, tasting the air.
One of the men on seeing Sam shouted out a warning. “Do not come any closer, Death Walker. Go and climb back into whatever hole you came from and leave us here to grieve for our comrade and brother. Come no closer so you do not see what you could have prevented.”
Sam heard exactly what the men meant him to!
“I do not understand,” he shouted in exasperation. “This has absolutely nothing to do with me.”
“This has everything to do with you!” shouted one. “You, the so called ‘Wielder’, wielded nothing to stop this quake. Nothing to stop the loss of life of our brother, Banner lying here.”
“And nothing…” shouted another, bending down to pick up a broken spar, “to stop Ōmakere and Baradin from being attacked and our children, mothers, wives, fathers, brothers being slaughtered, all for standing up for YOU! Arana, my father, would still be alive had you done what you said you were here to do.” And with that, first one, then a number of the men turned and started running towards Sam, spars, oars now held as clubs, raised in anger. Men in rage ran towards Sam with blood on their minds.
“Run!” screamed Babu and Sam saw that he had already tensed, his talons gripping the beach and his back leg muscles flexing, ready to spring at the first attacker who ventured nearer. But in that brief bubble of the moment when neither fight not flee registered with him, Sam did what most would do in the circumstance thinking their lives were about to come to a sticky end; he cowered down into himself, his arms reaching up to protect his head in defence, and his fingers found each other and interlocked…
A blinding flash of light exploded out and away from the tips of his fingers, hurtling outwards, picking up his would-be attackers and bodily throwing them every which way, their screams of rage and anger quickly overtaken by shock and terror as they briefly flew through the air until they were slammed into the rocks, their bodies impacting with wet, sickening crunches. And then their screaming stopped. Forever!
Sam, his eyes still tightly shut in terror expecting the first blow to land on him for one of the vicious looking oars, wondered what had happened and he slowly opened his eyes to see why the men’s cries had all been snuffed out. Around him stood not one of them. Instead he saw their twisted bodies tangled in amongst the rocks in various poses. None of them moving! He slowly got to his feet, gazing all around him in terror and fright. “What the…?” he said, with total confusion. “What just happened? Babu…? Babu?” Sam looked around him now, searching for Babu, the slow fear that he too might have finished in amongst the rocks filtering into his mind. But of Babu, there was no sign.
Sam walked over to the men to see if he could help them. First one, then the next, always looking out for Babu. But the men were far from saving. Sightless eyes and broken limbs were all that remained of the fishermen.
Sam bent over, gripping the nearest rocks, and threw up, his stomach retching at the sight that greeted him. He had to leave this place and seek help so, with eyes scanning everywhere for his Padme, he staggered out from the rocks and towards the distant tree line and hopefully, to help.
The smoking remains of a village greeted him with its stench as he finally emerged from the end of the tree line. Silence hanging over it like a blanket. Despite his emotional overload, he recognised the place immediately. Rudhjanda was a film set after all the explosions had gone off! The mist that was normally present was nowhere to be found. This, he put away for consideration at a later stage but, for now, he just stood and looked out over a world of calamity. Burnt trusses, steaming grasses that had been used for roofing, and twisted posts, stood like jagged sculptures in the landscape. Small tendrils of smoke still meandered amongst all the brokenness, wrapping the components into one scene of terror and despair. “Yes, I recognise this place,” he concluded. Distractedly, he rubbed his chest as if to feel for the barb from the arrow which had been fired at him from the bridge he observed across the dry river bed in front of him. A crack brought him back to attention and he quickly ducked, scanning to see if the same marauders as before were still there, but they appeared to have long since left this place. Only the noise of the slow settling of the roofs and walls as they succumbed to gravity and fell to the ground rumbled now and then through what was left of Rudhjanda. Over the whole village, like a sickening flag, the stench of the dead and dying pervaded his senses. He saw the bodies of the villagers, struck down as they worked in peace, now silent, bent and burnt. Arms outstretched in a final plea as if frozen in time. The words of the villagers coming back now to haunt him.
“Sam, help me.”
“Sam, if you had been here…”
“Sam.”
“Sam.”
“Wake up!”
Channel 5 News
“Wake up!”
Sam felt hands on him, shaking him roughly. The jolt made him jump with a start, immediately assuming that the marauders had come back to get him and had sneaked up without him being aware. “Don’t kill me!” exploded from his lips in automatic defence.
“What?” came the response. “Mate, I am not going to kill you, just get you to stand up before you get swamped.”
Sam opened his eyes in confusion. Where a second ago, smoke and destruction lay before him, now a wide expanse of beach and a tide too close for comfort assaulted his gaze. And a man leaning over him trying to get his attention.
“You need to move away, mate,” the man was saying. “Lucky I saw you asleep against the wall. If I hadn’t walked along here, the sea would have woken you up very shortly.” Sam looked groggily out from his vantage point and saw that indeed, the waves were crashing very close to where he sat so he pushed himself up quickly. His back went into spasm and he realised he must have been sleeping there for some time, for not only had the tide come in, but it was nearly dusk and the sun was low over the horizon.
Sandhaven greeted his weary eyes once more. He looked across at the man and grunted his thanks, then stumbled up and walked back down the boardwalk towards the town.
His back refused to ease up and he
sensed he had pulled something whilst sleeping there. Boy! he thought. I will need to see someone if my dreams continue to be so vivid! Looking at his watch, he noticed that it was already gone 7pm. The evening crowds were piling into the various seaside restaurants and amusement arcades and a few were enjoying their early evening jogs along the Esplanade. A dog or two running alongside them, barking occasionally at this new piece of entertainment, tails wagging and tongues hanging out as they disappeared off into the sunset. Sam, in a brief second of pure vision, experienced such a sense of peace, that he had to stop to savour it. He realised that here, of all places, no one was expecting anything of him. No one was telling him to do anything or go anywhere or be anyone. He was an island in a sea of people, and they just didn’t care. He loved the feeling of not having to explain his actions or his dress sense. He could just be himself and the people around him would not bat an eye lid.
With a new found spring in his step, Sam moved off from the boardwalk and walked towards the lights of Sandhaven, the last rays of the sun casting beams onto the fronds of the palm trees over him. In the process, they also washed the terrors of his dream into a mist of obscurity.
He enjoyed the anonymity of being able to walk along the pavement without being stopped and he was able to look around him without fear. A few kiosks were selling donner kebabs or burgers, attracting the odd couple or two, but, for now, Sam was not hungry. He just wanted to wander and not have to think or take any responsibility for a moment.
Sam slowly became aware that his fingers were tingling and that they had been flexing ever since he was woken. Looking down at them, he was shocked to see that they appeared to be blue and the tips seemed to glow with a deep cobalt intensity. “What on earth?” he began, bringing his hands quickly up towards his eyes to look more closely. Nothing! No blue fingers and no glowing digits, instead, a very real tingling as if they had been cramped and the blood was now slowly bringing life back to his extremities. Weird? he thought. He flexed his fingers experimentally and they did indeed feel as if cramp had set in, but slowly the sensation eased and he eventually dropped them to his side, aware that his breathing, for some reason, had increased in tempo. Parts of his dream filtered then into his mind and he looked again at his hands, remembering how he had cowered as the fishermen ran towards him with rage in their eyes. How his arms came up over his head and, “Yes, they did. They interlocked and then…”