Once within the cave, the gaseous substance generated colors that swirled and danced all the way to the top of the statue’s head and the palms of her hands. It continued to collect above the six hands and head until all seven source lights came together in one stream. From there, the single flow of energy led directly up through the cave’s ceiling and into the bodies of Laraviea and the two men with her: Hortico, Spirit of strength, and Tilikum, Spirit of patience.
Soon a giant ring of colorful energy formed around the entire cave, encapsulating the four members within it. The giant orb grew to be larger than the cave itself and continued to grow. As the colorful energy light drifted from the center of the ring toward its exterior, the three voices began projecting through their thoughts in a poetic, lyrical delivery. With each phrase, the combination of male and female voices echoed…
“There is great work to be done. A necessary task. We call for support in removing all blocks and fears. We summon the power from within to lead and guide the creation of our liking.”
“Bring the wisdom of five centuries, and bridge the matter from six dimensions.” On this command, the women and their stags from within the Searching Trees offered their power to the demi-god Laraviea. It was a vision to watch their souls slowly begin to transition away from their bodies, streaming directly into the cave’s opening.
Laraviea instructed the spirits in the sky, “Send qualities of direct attention and ascension into focus, and release all vengeance!”
While these words gently filled the air, the earth’s rotation began to shift. Adding to the clockwise trajectory from its axis, the earth began a tilt from north to northwest, and then back up again before tilting north to northeast…and so on.
“There is no power great enough and it is called forth, now!” From within the trees, the women and their stags were completing the surrender of their spirits to the mountain; as this happened, their bodies transformed into beautiful, white statues while the stone exterior of the cave became engulfed in a pulsating, radiant glow.
Laraviea’s passion and desire was remarkable as she focused her eyes and stated her final request, “Let it be a desirous soul. A powerful presence for the kingdom to grant! And so… it is done!”
Only celestial spirits in the skies could see what happened next, as the earth spun wildly out of control in all directions. Across the globe on Zaundaurïn, the people worked hard to negotiate the new series of winds.
Here in the sacred Voltandria, the wind was kicking up, sweeping Laraviea’s hair up into a spiral. The energy that coated the three ceremonial leaders, Laraviea, Hortico and Tilikum, dissolved, and the ring above them broke off into five rays of colorful, beaming light. It took the source energy from all of Voltandria to fill these five rays, which left the sky a vacuous, empty black space… and the next phase of the creation process had now begun:
The power form the mountainside continued its stream while Laraviea spoke, “Let us have five protective rays, encapsulating every atom of its presence, and one to protect in a veil of white light, warding off danger and threats from the elements.”
Just then, a separate ray splintered off from a larger one and transformed into a thin sheet of white light that shot across the darkened sky and seas. The sea in turn responded with immediate waves of torment—they desperately begged to break through the white protective layer as it laid out before them. But the Great Rulers of the Universe would never respond to desperation.
The five colorful streaming rays expanded wildly across the blackened sky, frequently crossing over one another. They swirled and danced, racing their way up into the heavens until one reached up and, like a whip, plucked out of the sky the tiny star from the exploded supernova.
A TEMPORARY HOME
Within its new temporary home, this star had become a vibrant source energy pod that moved within the length of its streaming mother ray.
As it occupied this ray, the star soon discovered the freedom to leave and jump onto another wildly dancing streamer…and then, to another. There was no telling which streamer it would settle on, or if it had planned to make its way back to the original.
In an instant, the white energy pod picked one streamer and stuck with it, shining brightly within its new home. The remaining four streamers receded back a bit. The light-filled gemstone within its chosen ray then moved away from the source and toward the end of it, vulnerable in the open ocean air, and beckoning the length of the ray to expand further and further—across the sea and beyond. It was well on its way, and heading halfway around the globe to the land of Northern Zaundaurïn.
*****
In Zaundaurïn, Fenir Warbuckle and his company moved rapidly on horseback. They were heading to the furthest shore northbound. They had a long way to go, and most of them had no idea of what they were about to encounter or how it would impact the world and all its inhabitants for centuries to come.
A RACE THROUGH THE NIGHT
The endless trail of lighter-colored horses and riders made their way to Voltandria’s peak. There they developed a type of mechanical wing on each of their shoulders, launching them and their riders into a continued circling ascension up into the clouds.
“The intention is set!” Laraviea’s whisper was deliberate, and as it would appear, generated from a source that was worlds greater than she was. “Go now, with speed until it reaches the ends of the earth! Follow to protect!” she ordered.
On command, the train of Voltandrian horses shifted direction and began a rushing blaze across the white protective sheet that spanned the open seas. With miles of open air that stretched out across a calm sea, the energy pod could safely be spotted in the distance. The charging horses from the mountain powered on until the protectors caught up with their target. The moment they surrounded the bright light, keeping pace felt easy and natural.
*****
The intricate tapping of the horse hooves onto the protective sheet owned a cadence that was soothing. But from beneath the sheet, in the narrow space directly above the water’s surface, the delicate tapping echoed and sounded horrendous. And the longer it took to cross the globe, the riskier the passage was becoming. Soon enough, the hoarding nature of the ocean caught onto what was happening, and put up a frightful challenge.
As the energy pod and its sacred escorts tore off into the moonlit distance, each pounding gallop summoned an equally charged response from the confrontational waves below. One by one they reached up in repeated attempts to break through the white glassy sheet and stop the progression of the luminescent source pod from reaching its destination….
At times, individual waves were successful at throwing a horse and rider off balance, sending them over and crashing into the water. But just as soon as that pattern developed, something else began to happen that contradicted the hate-filled waves. Random areas of the sea water formed lightning bolts that shot straight up through the glass, shattering small areas and meeting the horses’ hooves with assistance—They forced the horse and rider into the air, surging them ahead by several paces at a time. It became apparent now that the Great Rulers were committed. There was no stopping what was supposed to happen next on the opposite end of the globe... and this team of equestrians were willing to receive any extra help they were given.
ACCEPTANCE
Heated breath from the galloping steeds of Zaundaurïn had intruded upon the cold northern air with mini-puffs of steam, and droplets of saliva that vaporized in an instant. The soldiers recruited from Cantroïne were committed to the task at hand and had been excited about braving the elements. This new level of cold and air activity, however, was wearing on them. The faces of many were twisting in the numbing cold; talking was hardly possible the further north they travelled.
CROSSING OVER
There appeared to be a couple hundred men and women, horses and wolfdogs ready to defend their land, and Runby Hobarts was impressed with the recruitment efforts coordinated by his friend and commander, Fenir Warbuckle. He delighted
in watching the way they responded to their commander’s instruction. And their commander was happy to be in the lead.
“Take your positions!” They had met the 45th parallel, roughly 200 yards east of the 120th meridian. “March single file up to the post. When the first arrives,” Warbuckle paused to be certain he had everyone’s attention, “…you’ll all face west. I’ll split the distance, and we’ll all cross the one-twenty together!”
They were planning to head directly west over the longitudinal coordinate that was said to be a type of portal. It would bring them through one of the final stops before battle. Here, they would be cloaked in whatever additional items were absolutely necessary for success, and nothing more. As an extra special gift from the Gods, all “treated” weapons provided here would come with a manifested “short-term” basic memory of how to use them; this feature would be silently running in the backgrounds of the soldiers’ minds, and then activated when they reached the next destination on their journey.
The earth continued its spin in all directions. The wind on the surface pushed toward the east, and then quickly shifted to the south. It pulled from the west, and then was quickly sent to the north. If the company members were going to thrive in these conditions, then understanding flexibility at a physiological level was absolutely essential and this uncharacteristic weather provided great practice for gaining such knowledge. As the company of 300 women and men on horses lined up, north to south, the blue jays on taller horses began circling and navigating the lineup—their movements elegant and intriguing. Warbuckle called everyone to attention, and then he led the way westward bound toward the “120.”
In no time, their trot quickly escalated into a canter. Warbuckle’s timing with the direction of the wind was of extreme importance. “On my command…,” he called out while in motion to both sides of where he was leading the line across the field. Keeping the pace to a canter, the line moved swiftly. The wolfdogs followed behind, and the blue jays on their horses, behind them. It was synchronicity at its finest and generated a feeling of peace that was shared among all individuals in this group, despite what they were preparing to do.
There was an unmistakable dynamic that existed among the ensemble, lined up side-by-side and marching across the plane in unison. The very moment the wind shifted back toward the west, the direction they were awaiting came quickly upon them. “Arms up!” Warbuckle ordered. The line sped up to a gallop and without a thought about it, each rider raised their right arm up to the sky. Then, 300 horses leapt up off the ground and crossed the invisible hurdle at the western 120. While in the air, it was as if they had become infused with a whole new suit of strength and power. The first part of their transformation was being configured.
As they crossed zones through the invisible hurdle, an unlit torch appeared in every soldier’s right hand. The electrical vibration that shot through their bodies was remarkable. It was as if they had all magically plucked out of the wind a new will to survive. For some of them, their gaunt expressions had become filled with life and color again. And when they landed on the west side of the 120th meridian, many were adorned in helmets and chest armor, and most were given weapons at their side.
Unable to contain the feeling that overtook them, they expressed an exuberant “Raaaahhhhhh!” It was an audible charge, in chorus! There was excitement and a sense of purpose that had been absent just moments prior. In an instant these people had become warriors on horses with a mission that was all too familiar to certain inhabitants of this land. Taking command of their horses, many began short sprints, from north to south, and back again while waiting for the remainder of the company to cross over.
Next in line were the wolfdogs. As they lunged toward the hurdle, they transformed mildly in size and strength, and gained a thicker coat to protect them in this significantly colder region. And then, as they landed on the western side of the meridian, the empowered canines bared their teeth, growled, and shook the icicles from their virgin thick coats before tearing off into the racing stampede of horses before them.
*****
The six human-sized blue jays on tall horses were the last to cross over. They pulled back far enough, reared their heads, and bolted toward the marker with a force of incomparable strength and speed. Their quick landing to the west of the meridian acted only as a springboard that launched them back up into the air, surpassing those before them in one fluid motion. The leap was grand and awe-inspiring. And to newbies of Warbuckle’s company, like Runby Hobarts and a few others, it was an unforgettable experience.
For the first time, we see that the blue jay appearance was merely a disguise for the human world. When these creatures on horses crossed through the invisible marker at the 120th meridian, they came out the other side as even taller, sleeker, extremely angelic, long-legged and luxuriously-winged Valkyries. And they were a thing of beauty—all six of them.
Where the top of blue jays’ heads had been was transformed by a powerful mask and helmet combination, sharp and pointed as it extended down past the eyes and nose, and then up beyond the blond crowns of the Valkyrie’s heads. The blue jays’ wings had become strong, toned arms. And where the tail dragged behind the over-sized hyacinth-blue vertebrate now rested a pair of wings, positioned at the center of the back, stretching the reach of the helmet, and to the full length of each Valkyrie’s body.
The dust kicked up in their wake as the Valkyries escaped into the open field. “Now, on!” Warbuckle commanded. “To Trickling!” The soldiers tore off behind the Valkyries, with the wolfdogs nipping at the ankles of horses that lagged in the cold. There was no stopping them, and the charge would not cease until they reached their next destination.
*****
With the six Valkyries far ahead of the company, they granted a special favor for Warbuckle, and partially illuminated the path, which helped the company navigate the rest of the way to Trickling Village. This subtle illumination in the dark night was just bright enough for the soldiers to keep pace, and take notice of where they were.
THE VILLAGE OF TRICKLING
The villagers of Trickling were known for building Swedish Torches, which were also called “Viking Torches.” These are not to be confused with the torches that the soldiers of Cantroïne were now bearing—the Swedish Viking torches had a different function altogether.
The typical Swedish Viking Torch stood about ten inches off the ground, was roughly six inches in diameter, and presented itself simply as a log that was quartered vertically and used for cooking. After a log was chopped into quarters lengthwise, it was pieced back together with a narrow space between the sections for the tinder and kindling to be packed into and then lit. Given this type of structure, the fire would burn the log from within, creating a heated stove on which to place kettles of water and such for boiling.
Considering that the logs used by the villagers of Trickling were from the fallen branches of the Searching Trees, these “torches” or campfires in this village were more like giant furnaces, which stood about 18-20 feet tall. And they were created for exactly that reason: to act as furnaces that would heat the area.
As far north as Trickling was, the air and land up there was almost always wet or damp and most definitely trapped the cold. It was reasonable for the inhabitants of this land to build such furnaces that would burn for sometimes a week at a time.
With an average radius of four feet, it took a lot of effort to build and maintain these fires. But, once they were up and running, they could be used as kilns for pottery and ovens for cooking—in addition to their primary function of keeping the area warm for the people, as the snow and ice directly around them melted.
AN EMPTIED VILLAGE
The winds fought for control of the varying sized flames that sparkled and danced within the Viking furnaces. When the three hundred soldiers on horseback arrived at the village, some were cloaked in the garments from this land that were donated to the company by travelers migrating through Cantroïne, during the earl
ier part of the wind storm.
The first thing about Trickling that the present company noticed was that it was emptied, just as Commander Warbuckle had noted it would be. Still, making mention of it had not prepared them for the eerie effect it would create when they arrived to see signs of life in the area with no villagers there for the proof; just five burning furnaces, some food rations, a few hides, and the relentless wind.
Where had the villagers of this land run off to? It appeared that they had left everything behind—even their food it would seem. The look on the faces of the wind-resistant soldiers from Cantroïne was of sympathy. And understandably so.
The colder wind made it more challenging for people to articulate consonants, and Runby was loud as he took the lead, “They’re safe…!” He pushed hard to shout over the weather to his nearby comrades. “I helped many of them… through our village, before we left…! They are in no danger…!”
Fenrir nodded in agreement, “Go on…!” His voice even louder than Runby’s, he addressed the group. Runby never took his eyes off the crowd. Consoling his company, Fenir continued, “A‘right… Here, look, no one is benefitting from anyone’s demise! Our friends are safe!”
The commander’s words began to register on the faces of his company. “They fled much further south of here, well beyond Cantroïne. They are not trained for what we do, and have shelter set up… as far south as the land extends!”
A few soldiers had come forward on their horses to scope out the area with the Swedish Viking Torches. These “furnaces” held awe and intrigue, and always captivated the attention of new observers. Simon Hollander, in his late teens, confident and sporting an archery set over his shoulder, rode in abruptly from further back in the crowd. A sinister look in his eyes, he repeatedly clenched and released a fist, periodically breathing warm air onto it in hopes of thawing it out. He focused on the fire coming from the Viking furnaces. He believed strongly that he had a matching fire of his own from within his soul and carried it externally in a cocky stance.
Tritania's Reign Page 4