Miller, Half-Orc

by J R Marshall

“We’ll not be disturbed, yet we are sheltered from the wind, and any rain that might come.”

  I remembered her words that practitioners in craft had sometimes been absent so long that their physical bodies suffered injury.

  “Surely you and I will not be absent too long?” I asked.

  “It’s a good habit to have; never assume, always be prepared, we talked many times about protecting your physical body.” She closed a shutter and locked the door by sliding a wooden peg through a hoop. “Just because I’m with you is no excuse.

  “Now Sandy will be waiting, but if he’s correct, your experience maybe different. Are you ready? I’ll go first.”

  Watching and no longer dreading the experience, I waited as Tam settled herself, touched the floor and closed her eyes, and waiting a moment longer I began my meditation.

  My mind drifted slowly, unaware of time, seeking Tam, searching for Sandy, slowly crossing the ocean of altered perceptions, aware of the strands of energy gently floating past, but still below.

  Concentrating more, I sought in sensual awareness for the earth song, listening yet barely hearing, struggling to descend, buoyed as a cork floating atop the ocean of perception, moving slowly, trying to gather speed, but meeting resistance.

  Tam’s mind reached out to mine, a muffled voice, the awareness of Sandy muted, unable to connect. She pulled me deeper; the connective forces so easily harvested seemed elusive.

  Down Tam drew me, her will pulling me deeper, enquiring as to my comfort, and I could faintly hear the earth song, like rain falling upon leaves, so faint.

  I wasn’t engulfed in the rapture, far from it, as Sandy’s thoughts came into my mind, distant, devoid of clarity, like trying to hear someone shouting across two fields. I was so disappointed and struggled trying to follow Tam, fighting the impedance, seeking greater synergy, for Sandy was requesting I break the meditation, and return to consciousness.

  Opening my eyes, I brushed the dirt from my hand and staring at the shed, gaps in the walls and roof reminding me of Joe’s barn, my misery less than a year before, I rose and unbolted the door for Sandy was outside, asking if I was present.

  “So now we know, and it is good for you,” said Sandy. He towered over me, there were no features on his face for his shape did not allow for smiles, frowns, or any expression, even my slight awareness of Sandy’s emotion was absent. There was no connection, nothing. “Tam needs to descend, she will be an hour or so.”

  “How do you know, and what is there that’s good?” For me there was nothing positive. “One day, I’m normal, then tossed around within a storm, and now barely able to meditate.” I felt thoroughly forlorn and diminished despite Sandy’s comments, conflicted in thought, this latest experience upsetting.

  Sitting on the headland, my thoughts such as they were, melancholic, despondent. For half an hour I tried to get Sandy to explain, but to no avail.

  “We will travel twice more before this day is spent,” and as he said that and before I could question him further, he gently merged once more into the ground.

  Lucky bastard! Sitting alone, I wondered if I had driven him away, probably.

  Time marched on and after two hours, longer than expected, Tam spoke, making me start for I sat outside watching the gulls wheeling overhead, the roar of the sea and the bitter wind distracting my miserable and melancholic mood, for the weather was fast deteriorating, no longer a mild and beautiful day.

  “It’s getting cold, I thought you might shelter whilst waiting for me?” Tam looked slightly up, for I was seated and the difference in height was not great.

  “Please come into the hut, and I’ll explain, it’s possibly interesting news, but we need to test a theory.” She walked ahead. “Sandy suggests that although you have a remarkable ability to sense him due to your affinity to the earth you are hampered by the proximity of water. Unexpectedly you are polarised in your ability to cope with the earth song, dependent upon where you are.” She looked at me, judging how I might react to this revelation. “That would explain your enhanced ability the farther away from Hedgetown’s marshes, or the sea at Gledrill.”

  Having a disability or benefit that was predictable, that was the most important aspect of her explanation, for my anxiety was heightened and augmented by my lack of understanding. Knowledge is everything.

  “So where is the farthest point from any body of water that you know, and please,” I almost implored her, such was my desire to remove ambiguity, to settle once and for all the cause of my differing experiences, “can you take me there?”

  “No,” and for a moment a shiver ran down my spine, “but Sandy can.” I must have shown my relief.

  “Will the driest place be best? For you saw how I struggled to control myself even within your castle.”

  “Don’t worry about that, but we must find your potential limit. After all, your strength and ability is finite. Craft doesn’t grow exponentially, there will be limits, even in the middle of a desert.”

  It wasn’t a desert, neither was it devoid of life, for even upon sand, there is water scarcely dozens of feet below the surface.

  “Where are we?” For I’d held Sandy’s great hand and Tam had allowed her power to be directed by the elemental, his knowledge forming the destination. Faithfully Tam had unquestioningly allowed Sandy free control, never doubting for a moment his loyalty, yet he could have cast us into solid rock.

  “I don’t know.”

  As Tam spoke, Sandy rumbled, “Five hundred and forty leagues from whence we were, on a mighty land mass, the largest in this world, and many miles from water, either as you judge distance on the ground or below.”

  And now I was fearful, not in dread fear, for as I’ve said before I am not easily intimidated, nor easily given to panic, yet this was it! If Tam and Sandy were correct, this would be the peak of my synergy with the earth, my greatest journey ever, immersed in the rapture.

  I could meditate as I stood, for were my feet not adjacent to the ground, but meditation is as much about preparation and familiarity, and I sat down, not observing my surroundings, the temperature warmer than earlier, the wind gentle.

  Tam would have none of it, and she rebuked me for my haste which I normally checked, but that day I was desperately eager to clarify my position.

  “I’ll not be your guard, Master Miller.” It was the first time she used the honorific, and she asked Sandy to check for animals and humanoids within a few miles.

  Sandy sank lower, and barely four minutes later rose, counselling no humanoids, but arachnids and snakes, plus several quadrupeds, small in nature. I wondered how he knew, a skill I had no comprehension of nor would know how to learn.

  Tam needed to rearrange her powers, so we watched over her as she meditated for an hour. I was bursting with impatience, but subject and in debt, which to friends was allowed.

  Upon returning Tam cast spells around the border of our non-existent camp, spending extra agonising minutes checking that no creature, never mind how small, could gain access and finally she paused, and looked at me.

  “So you want to see if Sandy’s hypothesis is confirmed?” And sitting, we both prepared for meditation. Sandy glided into the ground, and Tam gently reassuring me, closed her eyes.

  My heart beating quickly caused my meditation to take longer as I steadied my mind, breathing slowly and deeply; a minute passed before placing my hand on the ground, a trigger for connecting, so well practised over the years, I fell.

  Racing across the sea of altered perceptions, the ocean scintillating as it sped beneath, the music already audible, and falling like a stone, Tam clutching at me, her spirit flying alongside yet failing to arrest my descent, keeping up, but not grasping successfully.

  With power and immense experience, she sped closer, fleetingly steadying my fall but failing to secure a permanent connection and slipping from her grasp I continued my fall, accelerating faster. She drove ahead, diving down, protecting me from the shards of power, her energy shinning
in the darkness, despite my mind being aware of colours and sounds, a contradiction, yet it seems best at describing my experience.

  The rapture of music around me, in beautiful clarity, each instrument capable of being isolated. I could pinpoint every chord, the sounds of the earth, the sighing desert, the groan of grinding rocks deep in the bowels of the earth, all the senses harmonising.

  Sandy offered to help, for he was exalting in power, an elemental of the earth; he too was unencumbered by the absence of water, so that his mind shone like a beacon in the tumultuous music.

  Placing her mind in front of mine, and deflecting the shards of power, Tam finally steadied my fall, as the chorus throve and the trumpets brayed, slowly exerting her influence she and I slowed to that of a feather fall. The connecting energies of the earth floated harmlessly around.

  Sandy enveloped me, he and she, buoying me as I rejoiced at all I perceived, feeling each sound, tasting the music, all my senses combining, so that none stood alone, yet all complementary.

  How my mind rejoiced, triumphant in accurate knowledge, knowing that life, or more importantly, my life, was splendid.

  Tam and Sandy spoke to me clearly, without obfuscation; their chosen thoughts rang clear and true above the music, so I could hear every intended word.

  For they proposed to allow me to descend deeper, Sandy reassuring me that the voices were safe, for I could make out words, enquiring of me. I had been noticed.

  The shards of power now gentle mists of connective energies seemed different, more complex, and of a higher order, like fish deeper in the ocean, larger and pursued by fishermen risking their lives seeking the greater gain.

  Slowly we descended, and after a while I asked to be released, my mental acuity prepared to furnish its own break and control. Sandy agreed. Tam pressed ahead, always protective.

  Slowly, with a care I only expected from Tam, Sandy set me adrift, gently loosening his hold so that I fell, in freefall, yet the natural resistance was building and the experience was not wholly without control.

  I fought against the fall, almost stopping, before allowing myself to slip the break, exhausting my concentration, knowing the journey back might prove impossible.

  The connecting energies thinned, and before me I saw colours change, a purple hue formed, ‘eyes’ watching me, and observing Sandy, like sharks avoiding dolphins, ‘tales told by fishermen’, I also was observed, but initially left alone.

  The energies down here were intelligent, some malevolent, others benign, so many disinterested, but all aware.

  Visions played across my consciousness, some of the tiniest of energies, like shoals of fish, seeking to enquire, wanting my address but not in a physical way, studying my thoughts, others scurrying away, less than curious. But as I descended still deeper, my progress slowed; the small energies were replaced by more powerful wills, having greater strength, formidable intellects.

  Descending, a voice entered my head, and was thrust out by another; it started questioning, followed by a third, and increasing in number becoming intrusive, possibly similar to how demons might possess a man, some seeking to connect, others less genteel, and a few nasty, but all curious.

  Their minds focused on mine, fleeting questions, scarcely time to register, whilst some were persistent.

  “Will you come again?”

  “Who are your friends?”

  “How do you know a name you don’t recognise, and can’t pronounce?”

  “They will betray you, you’ll be forsaken!”

  “How will you get back?”

  “Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Why?”

  These creatures of energy and intelligence were of differing types. I hesitate to use ‘species’, for whilst a few repelled me, many were spirits of wind and fire or strange beings I couldn’t fathom and yet rarer still, of dreams which I found fascinating. Most though were like Sandy yet none had the intensity of his power. Occasionally one of greater strength would enquire directly with Sandy, I heard their thoughts.

  Always he would advise of my gift, the ability to connect, to hear the words they spoke, it was a warning against revealing secrets.

  Slowly natural resistance increased until I stopped falling, and floating in meditation I could enjoy the spectacle of a new world, probably within my dimension, but unreachable by all, save a handful skilled in craft. Tam would say later that maybe only ten people in the whole world could journey so deep in thought.

  “Yet descent is not power,” she would later caution, for I was young and needed protecting against vanity.

  There was a hierarchy here, an acquiescence to authority, and I wondered how that was maintained.

  “Tam, could you ascend from here? For I doubt even with my mind enhanced through panic, could I summon the strength. I think I would be trapped.”

  “We shan’t need to try.” Allowing a while longer, we were borne aloft, carried by Sandy, even Tam choosing to ride with him, enveloped, so that the difference was a man carried on horseback across several miles would arrive before his walking comrades. I was brought to wakefulness faster than I could ever fashion myself.

  Elated, I smiled for ten minutes, marvelling at my experience, being watched by my companions who talked privately, their minds as one, so I could not understand with accuracy what they said.

  Time passed, and I was allowed to contemplate, my thoughts becoming reconciled to my new potential, able to understand the implications and risks, to formulate a clear understanding until I eventually asked, “What would have happened if neither of you were present?”

  “You would have been unable to rise, and your body would either have died from malnutrition, or erosion, infracted upon by the coming winter,” said Tam, being herself careful to impress the risks of my synergy.

  “Or,” and Sandy’s voice rumbled, slowly uttering syllables, “you would have been driven insane, tormented in mind. Not everyone allows trespassers unhindered access.”

  “I trespassed?”

  “At shallower depth, it matters not,” Sandy spoke, “but deeper, you became a tolerated visitor, for a while, so yes, you trespassed.”

  “Once across the Ocean of Perceptions, your return is extremely difficult if unimpeded by natural resistance. You must be careful where you practise your craft, Miller! You must understand your peril.” Tam looked earnest. “Being cautious is essential for whilst you can learn greater mental acuity, greater control, you will never learn to recover from that depth. Would you jump from a wall if it were ten feet? But not one of a thousand. Think of it as a cliff, sheer, with death before you.”

  So now I knew, that my mind had tremendous potential.

  Sandy returned to the ground, wishing me good fortune, and unbeknownst travelled amongst his kin, sending word to fellow spirits of like mind, bidding that they offer aid and succour should chance encounter allow, for being like Tam of a wholesome nature he was considerate and honourable.

  Of this I knew nothing, only months later learning of it through third parties.

  Tam transported me back to Hedgetown, and offered to advance my training in craft, but having had my fill of tutelage I declined, determined to configure my own understanding based on failed experimentation. Nonetheless as a parting gift she left me a scroll, the second in my possession, yet different, and knowing what it contained I lifted her up in my arms and hugged her. A first for me.

  CHAPTER 11

  I bought a mule, a ten-week-old hunting hound, tent and winter provisions. Placing my mail, and helm along with most of my secondary purse in the care of the merchant, I paid for six months’ storage.

  With mule, hound, provisions, tent and three silver pieces I set out walking into the wilderness, east-north-east of Hedgetown away from the road to Cragtor, for I needed to be alone, distant from the marshes, yet not too far.

  Travelling perhaps eight miles, a mile or two beyond regular patrols, still considered under the influence of the town’s guard, yet in
practical terms far enough away to avoid people, I sought a place to stop on the edge of trees, a large deciduous wood, and fashioning a refuge, a tent with awning covered in foliage and invisible to any cursory glance, I made my camp as comfortable as possible.

  The mule, its use now superfluous, was slaughtered, and butchering the animal I hung its flesh on ropes to dry, although the hound ate well for a few days.

  Expecting to tarry into the heart of winter, I sought the hoof fungus and bone-dry rotten wood to replenish my tinder box, storing a large volume of surplus in cloth bags hung near the entrance, a few feet from the open fireplace. The fungus could carry an ember for a considerable time, whereas the rotten wood when powdered, crumbled as dust blown on the wind, was excellent fire-lighting material.

  There is a skill to storing large logs, stacked outside, so that the rain doesn’t soak the whole, and my time on Joe’s farm proved useful.

  My immediate surroundings were searched, for I needed to know which animals inhabited the area; an animal absent or an animal disturbed, a sound out of place, all would forewarn. I was at one with my habitat.

  The mule had carried casks of beer, weeks of dried rations, bandages, wax, and a plethora of miscellaneous items, including blankets and pots, bought cheaply, and unlikely to last, but there would be no returning, the equipment to be abandoned when the time was right.

  The tent was spread amongst poles cut from sycamore trees and bent and secured to the earth, resulting in a larger living area than some might imagine, and comfortable for ferns had been cut and dried above ground and placed layer upon layer. I would share my dwelling with ticks and fleas, but that was not unfamiliar to me.

  The hound who I named ‘Git’ learnt obedience, learning the hard way through several severe beatings, such that after five weeks he was trained. He never again resisted my will and accordingly was never struck again, well, at least not severely.

  Git paid close attention to every inflexion of my character, a click of a finger, a whistle, a nod of the head, never missing direction, constantly seeking my approval, watching his master until he came to anticipate my desire. He grew in companionship, and would remain loyal for many years and a guard during my meditations.