Green Monk of Tremn, Book I: An Epic Journey of Mystery and Adventure (Coins of Amon-Ra Saga 1)

by NJ Bridgewater

  He handed him the map.

  “Farewell, Brother,” Ifunka could say no more.

  Taking the sword and sheathing it, he tied it to a leather belt which he strapped round his waist. He took a travelling cloak and covered his monastic habit and then put on a satchel. Wiffka hastily packed it with some supplies, including some coins he had acquired from generous and pious travellers who often donated money to the monasteries.

  Rushing out of the tvagshaff in order to find his friends, Ffen and Shem, he bumped into the former, who was pushing a small wheelbarrow laden with tools in order to do some gardening in the courtyard. When he saw Ifunka’s panic, he dropped it and grabbed his friend by the shoulders.

  “What’s wrong, Brother? What has happened?”

  “We must go, Ffen—straightaway. There’s no time to explain but Brother Ushwan has been kidnapped and taken to a hidden location at the heart of the forest. We need to find Shem and leave at once. If the Abbott finds what we’re up to, he’ll have us all silenced or killed. I’ve already spoken to Brother Wiffka but he’s not coming. Gather your things and meet me at the betv in twelve minutes. Let me find Shem.”

  With that, the boys separated and Ffen hurried off to get prepared while Ifunka ran the length and breadth of the monastery, until he found Shem sitting on a large rock next to the pond, watching some dish-ducks float pleasantly on the water, which glowed red with the light of the setting sun.

  “Shem! How now, Brother?”

  “Why do you disturb me, Ifunka? Leave me out of your adventures.”

  “How do you know it’s about an adventure?”

  “I saw you running about like a headless meb this evening. Save me from it all. I want peace.”

  “No, Shem, you must join us. Brother Ushwan is missing.”

  “Brother Ushwan?” This had piqued his interest.

  “Yes, Brother. He’s been abducted and the Abbott knows it. Stay if you must; but Ushwan’s life depends on us and our willingness to face danger and save him. These are the same villains who killed my aunt and uncle. Meet us by the betv when you’re ready—otherwise stay. We’ll go without you if we must.”

  Shem pondered this for a few moments.

  “I’ll go,” he said at last. “For Ushwan’s sake. Without him, I wouldn’t be a monk now.”

  “Hurry up, then. I’ll see you in a minute.”

  Ifunka headed back to the betv, where Ffen was already waiting with a satchel on his back full of ample supplies. Shem joined them some minutes later, carrying his own supplies.

  “Brother, it’s almost nightfall,” Ffen remarked. “How will we know our way?”

  “Torches! Let’s light torches,” Ifunka suggested.

  Shem had brought several which they lit using a small piece of flint and a metal file. The three boys, cold and scared, now readied themselves to step into the forest.

  “We must head southwest towards an area at the centre of the Shivka and Gaffga forests, where the bandits dwell. They must be a day ahead of us now so we might not catch up with them. However, we should reach their lair in less than a week by foot—perhaps.”

  “A week?” Ffen was shocked. “What of our warm beds and peaceful lives?”

  “We’ve left them behind, Ffen,” Ifunka explained. “I don’t think we shall return to them again. We know not what dangers we face now, nor what lies ahead. If not dead, we shall surely be changed.”

  “Then onward!” Ffen shouted. “Come what may! We shall not go softly to our deaths, nor quietly, but shall rush forth and embrace destiny with both hands.”

  The boys stepped into the forest which, even now, was so dark that they practically stumbled into one another and only avoided being thrashed by low-lying branches with great difficulty. They continued in this awkward manner for an hour or so, until they reached a small clearing where they set up camp for the night. They kindled a fire and set up a round, leather tent. Performing ablutions in a small stream nearby, they then said their prayers before going about preparing dinner.

  Ffen had packed a prodigious supply of weshgetv, i.e. travelling biscuits, hard twice-baked cakes of beshk-flour and sugar wrapped in thick brown paper to preserve them from the elements; this being enough to last them two weeks or more. He had also brought a frying pan and a good supply of zig-eggs, tins of lesh-beans and a large number of shkiff-rolls, these being round, thick and chewy whole-wheat rolls made of shkiff grain. They shared a tin of beans and had one fried egg each and a shkiff-roll. Ifunka explained the whole situation and the dangers they might face. He told them about the bandits who had killed his uncle and aunt and the patterns of abductions. The three then examined the map that Wiffka had given them by the fire’s light and worked out their route.

  “If we want to avoid detection, we should proceed through the forest and away from Habka Path. This should take us two days, as it is perhaps twelve tvinshaffs from the monastery. Another day should bring us to Habka Village where we can purchase some more bread, eggs and milk, perhaps even weapons, before continuing along Ffesh Path, which is but little used. It appears to lead across Tvag River and through a densely-forested valley which is not named on the map.”

  “There are reasons why things are not named, Ifunka,” Ffen interrupted. “We don’t know what might lie in that valley.”

  “It’s a risk we’ll just have to take as to avoid it would add several days or even a week onto our journey, and these days through the thickest and equally most uncharted parts of Ffushkar. That would be even more dangerous, in my humble opinion. Then we enter the interior region of the forest, which is a vast area; somewhere within, however, lies the hidden den of the bandits.”

  “That’s a long and perilous journey,” Ffen remarked. “What think you of our chances, Shem?”

  “I’ve come to save Brother Ushwan. I trust in the Great Spirit and that is all I can say.”

  “We need to set a guard lest we be taken by any wild beast in the night,” Ifunka suggested.

  “I’ll watch first, followed by Ifunka, Shem and then myself again before morning, three hours per shift.”

  “Very well,” Ifunka agreed.

  Shem kept silent. The two retired to bed while Ffen set up watch as he stoked the dying embers of the campfire in the midst of that lovely and eerie spot. As the hours passed and the embers breathed their last, Ffen drifted off to sleep. The forest buzzed with an abundance of life: thousands of insects hovering to and fro, fiff-bats fluttering through the cold night air feasting upon their prey, hish-wanderers (small blue marmot-like mammals which feed on worms) scuttering through the undergrowth, and a host of long-armed meish with their bright-green fur and white eyes swinging from branch to branch and chewing on the soft marrow of the zeff-tree with its sucrose-laden interior, thickly wrapped like bamboo. Meish are lemur-like creatures, of which more than sixty species can be found in the Great Forest of Ffushkar alone, with more than a hundred others scattered throughout the lush and verdant forests and mountains of Tremnad. Who can tell how many species abound throughout the islands and the undiscovered continents of Tremn? On this question, the encyclopaedias are silent. Unlike lemurs, the meish share the Tremna’ s photosynthetic skin and have long lives, extending to eighty or more years.

  Beyond these harmless creatures, however, the growls of distant beasts could be heard, the great predators of Tremn who stalk its forests at night. Of these, there are many varieties and species, some as small as foxes while other carnivorous mammals, reptiles and avians are ten feet tall or more and weigh several tonnes. It was in fear of such creatures as these that Ffen suggested a watch, but it was Ffen’s negligence that lay them open for attack. Thus it was that as the young man began to drift away to the realms of somnolence, he scarcely noticed the heavy breathing and deep growls of the yeshka as it approached unseen.

  Chapter VII.

  Beasts & Cutthroats


  It was not the growling which woke Ffen from his unfortunate slumbering, nor was it the crunching of leaves and snapping of twigs beneath the beast’s immense paws; even the wretched gush of saliva which spilled over its gnashing fangs and glooped down the thick hairs of its hirsute chin until globs of glaucous slime formed into puddles on the soil. Nay, it was the fetid breath—the loathsome, putrid, stinking retch-inducing odour which blasted through its deathsome jaws like a hot wind in the fiery desert; this it was that roused the neglectful monk from his somnolence, such that he leapt to his feet in terror and confusion as the visage of death looked him in the face with its greedy, flesh-devouring eyes which quivered with the pulsating blood-lust of the yeshka. A more hate-worthy, vile and altogether loathsome spectre of terror could hardly be imagined, its appearance causing the pen to slip and the narrator to falter.

  Feats of literate descriptions, however, were far from Ffen’s mind as he looked into the eyes of this mass of muscle and fur poised to make its kill and end his young and tender life. It stood a full fifteen feet high and thirty long with a thick, dark green coat of fur, four immense legs with razor-like claws, large, rotating alert ears, like those of a dog or wolf, a long snout, dagger-like, razor-sharp teeth, an arched back, muscular limbs and a firm posture. It was a mountain of fierceness and power, yet was capable of moving swift as the wind. Rarely did it attack the Tremna as it ordinarily keeps clear of the main paths and roads but rather stalks herds of nimble, tvung-deer, heavy ffentwash-bison, the sleek nimffish-gazelle and huge, lumbering zetveri-sloths which dig enormous warrens under the ground. How unfortunate then that one of these huge predators had set its sights upon the hapless monks who even now were blissfully unaware of the deadly peril they were about to face.

  As Ffen overcame his shock, he let out a blisteringly-sharp cry, loud enough to wake the trees—it certainly woke the two boys who leapt from their braksh-straw mattresses and rushed out of the tent. Ifunka had fortunately grabbed his sword in haste and leapt beside Ffen who was frozen with terror. Ifunka, being quick-witted and having fast reflexes, instantly swung the blade at the yeshka’s solid head. The blade grazed through its bushy mane and sliced through one of its teeth, cutting a sizeable gash through the roof of its mouth. The beast recoiled momentarily, letting loose as it did a blood-curdling howl—so loud and so piercing that each boy clutched his ears in agony and all the birds flew away from the forest and into the starry atmosphere above. Far from deterring the creature, the blow served to enrage it most profoundly, such that it swung its mighty paws, knocking Ffen and Ifunka clear off their feet and into the branches of a nearby kaptitv-tree. This served to remove them from immediate danger, knocking the wind out of both of them and leaving them in a state of panic and shock. Shem, however, remained in the beast’s path. It turned to him next and made ready to pounce, but Shem, with staff held firmly in hand, stood with fortitude and courage, unflinching in his poise. The beast leapt with agility and speed, its befanged mouth wide and fearsome, its teeth dripping with saliva born of a ravenous appetite and down it came upon him until it began to gurgle and choke, its great bulk quivered and it fell on its side, stone dead.

  Shem, who had been kneeling, stood up erect and signalled to the others to come down. They did, stupefied and amazed, wondering how this single, frail boy had vanquished the gigantic enemy. When they examined the creature, its blue tongue hanging and the side of its terrifying maws and tawny eyes wild with alarm, they noticed Shem’s staff lodged down its throat. As the beast had descended, Shem shoved the staff deep into its throat where it had become firmly stuck, suffocating the monster. Ifunka sliced open the neck, which spilled thick green blood upon the forest floor and removed the slimy yet intact staff.

  “Here, Shem, it’s a little bit slimy but otherwise okay,” Ifunka said as he handed it to him.

  “How did you do it, Shem?” Ffen asked. “That was extraordinary. If bards hear of our tale, they will sing of this. You’re a hero, Shem, a fabulous hero–Shem the yeshka-slayer.”

  “I simply had faith in the Great Spirit. Which is greater, the spirit of a wild and irrational monster or a true believer? The true believer is greater because he is protected by the Great Spirit.”

  “I think your faith could move mountains, Shem,” Ifunka remarked. “Does not the Tamitvar say as much?”

  “Even so,” Ffen agreed. “But what shall we do with this carcass?”

  “Leave it where it lies,” said Ifunka. “We can’t eat a predator such as this and we don’t have the means to skin it and dry the hide. Let’s just take a fang or two as keepsakes.”

  “How can we sleep now? We’ll have to move on through the night. We can walk at least six kobotv before daybreak, I reckon,” suggested Ffen.

  So they packed away their things, took several fangs and claws as trophies and plodded on through the dense forest—through the Stygian darkness and chill air until, at last, the sun returned from its night journey in the underworld and began to bathe the sky in a ruddy glow. By that time, the boys were so exhausted that they nearly collapsed--one and all—on the thick mossy forest floor. Ffen suggested that they rest, Ifunka and Shem heartily agreeing therewith, each one sitting down wherever he had been standing. The heavy backpacks had become terrible burdens; their shoulders burned and their calves were sore. They drifted off yet again into a deep sleep, this time uninterrupted by bird or beast until some hours must have passed before Ifunka awoke and sat up, leaning against a fallen tree, groaning as he did so. The dawn light strained itself to pierce through the thick forest canopy which stubbornly insisted on keeping its subjects within perpetual gloom. Ifunka woke the others for the kashroim prayer which, having completed it, they followed with a breakfast of yet more eggs and shkiff-rolls which they washed down with big gulps of water from their water skins. They set off immediately afterwards, continuing for several more hours until they discerned, in the distance, the figure of a man which, once observed, vanished straightaway, filling each boy with a tremendous feeling of dread and foreboding. As the hours passed, they caught yet more glimpses of the man until it appeared that they were being stalked by some elusive yet deadly being.

  “We’re being followed,” Ifunka observed. “So gird your loins and keep your staffs ready.”

  “Do you think they or it means to attack us?” asked Ffen.

  “Everything is possible in the depths of Ffushkar. All manner of wild men and beasts wander through its vastness.”

  They continued for another few hours until it was noon and they stopped again to pray before lunch. Lemurs rustled through the leaves and branches of the tall, zeff-trees. These were the tawny-furred gvuff-lemurs which feed on the white vung-insect grubs which can be found beneath the bark of the high boles. They were a pleasant species, gently humming and whirring but otherwise discreet in their lofty retreat. Leaping-snakes called wigwaffs, a non-poisonous but somewhat disturbing black serpent which lives high up in the trees, leaping from branch to branch and bole to bole in search of baby lemurs, birds and floating ffubish, a fluffy ball of fur with tiny blue eyes, little three-fingered paws and a stubby tale which inflates itself with helium, due to some unusual chemical process, and drifts through the forest canopy, feeding on ffug-flies, neon-yellow deff-ants and wibla-bugs which, like the ffubish, are round, floating creatures, insect-like but legless, with inflatable neon-green skin, pink eyes and sail-like scales on its back. The ffubish’s pursuit of wibla-bugs is exceedingly amusing as they bob up and down through the canopy until one overtakes the other, is eaten or becomes the prey of the nimble wigwaffs. These snakes, too, have their predators in the great food chain of Tremn. The forest canopy is host to a variety of birds of prey, such as the white gvain, whose curved, knife-like beak, red eyes, seven-foot wingspan and razor-sharp talons make it a formidable and fearsome predator. The subtle noises of every beast and creature, the wind rustling through the branches, the cracking of every twig and the crunching o
f every autumnal leaf set the boys on edge. The endless expanse played with their minds, turning every branch into an arm and every bole into a man until they half-suspected the trees themselves of infamy. Indeed, these silent watchers seemed hungry for their souls, their arms reaching out to snap the boys into their clutches. The gvuff-lemurs’ cries became a mocking laugh and the wigwaffs’ tongues hissed an ominous hiss, as if they too would descend from their lofty retreats to sup on monastic victuals.

  Suddenly, they became cognizant that they were being followed, with footsteps crunching the dry leaves as someone plodded along. Ifunka drew his sword slowly and whispered to the others to turn on three: one, two, three. They swivelled round, sword and staffs I hand, only to find a poor bedraggled old man with a tatty meb-woollen hat, scruffy hair and ragged clothes. He had a long, fat nose, beady brown eyes and a poky chin, stubby, fat fingers, short legs, and a knobbly tornish-wood cane, upon which he leant, quivering as he did so in a display of weakness and decrepitude. When he spoke, his voice croaked like a frog and a blob of saliva dribbled down his face.

  “Hesh,” he said. “Gish, gish my hearties! Whereunto go yow in hereum Ffushkar? Bish, bish, bodkins not be needing for to poke in my bosom so put down yow for to helpen this hereum hoary head.”

  “What manner of speech is this?” Ffen asked, turning to Ifunka, whom he regarded as an expert in such obscurities.

  “Forest folk,” Ifunka replied. “I’ve read that they’re uncouth and have their own words. Hesh must mean heika or ‘how now’ in their dialect—which of these two I’m not sure. No idea what gish or bish mean. Hearties, whereunto, bodkin and hoary are archaisms no longer used in our common speech. These folk are clearly frozen in time, using obscure, archaic or otherwise incorrect language.”