by Shane Cogan
C H A P T E R 57
Food
Fareth stared at the wall, his eyes open and peering at the picture hanging on it, his wife and children’s staring back at him. ‘All over the planet, her works of art were seen by all our people, yet alone now this one speaks the most to me. Your work,’ he said slowly and standing. ‘Your telepathic art imprints were quite remarkable. Our tribal people. Yet, it was this one, the first of your series, that still catches my imagination the most. How long have I stood here under the dimmest of lights in the darkness - and yet again - staring this picture?’ he whispered as he moved closer to the picture. He blinked his thoughts away. While looking around, he saw that Vufus was asleep on the long bench, his head to the side and arms lapping over its sides. On his back, so his new treasure, the great book lay on his chest. Yet another long night spent, with both sets of eyes pouring over its contents. Fareth moved towards the sun now shining its rays across the floor. Another day. Another Atis day of unanswered questions. The sunlight filled the large white room, as he turned around to look at the boy. He walked over to him and gently prodded him.
‘We have much work do to. Daylight hours have arrived and we need all fourteen of them, before the terror of the dark period returns,’ Fareth said as the boy opened his eyes and rubbed his face. He forgot about the book, as it slid off him and hit the ground. Catching a corner of the bench and the old loose pages, having been turned over so many times over the years, seeping out of the side of the great book. Some coming out of their placing. Fareth bent over and picked them up and handed it back to Vufus. ‘Quite calm, Your Majesty for a man that the palace chatter says is mad and has abandoned his people,’ Vufus said muffled, in between yawning. ‘I need some food. I suppose you have still not eaten, Your Majesty?’ Vufus said. ‘Please, call me Fareth. I have told you such titles are irrelevant in this new world, or maybe not anymore…’ his words running into a fast speech. ‘No I am not hungry. We do not need such things as food in times of great peril and crisis. It’s a Tarracullan trait. Run along to the small kitchen. She is expecting you, as usual. Be as normal as possible. No side chats with any of the staff,’ he said as Vufus was already leaving the chamber and walking through the door. His Daara blood no doubt seeking its daily food and liquid ingestion.
There were jars of dried food stocked on the first shelf. Vufus grabbed a chair and climbed up. Each were labelled and dated. He looked around, but there was no one in the big kitchen. Best to go to the large kitchen, as there was no food in the smaller one. Why, I wonder, for such a large palace, food is so minimal? It was just stocked with drab oils and weird spices. I want freshly made food. He smiled as he reached his hand towards the lid. His fingers almost up on the jar. The chair under his feet creaked and wobbled. He leaned slightly forward and managed to grab the jar he wanted, just before the chair made a new noise. ‘Too late!’ he screamed out. Landing backwards, other jars followed him, their metallic sound pinging all around him as they landed and rolled over. He watched as some of the lids popped open, with their contents covering the hard surface. He glanced up and saw a larger one bounce off the bottom shelf. Move fast. Glass jars with stocked vegetables smashed onto the marble floor. Glass, water, food and its spices covered the kitchen floor. With the noise will come the kitchen staff. And with the staff will come shouts and screams.
A small kitchen help was hovering over Vufus as he opened his eyes, his back on the floor, his legs in the air. Yet, he was holding the jar tight to his chest. ‘Hungry, I see again,’ the small male said. He reached out a hand and Vufus obliged. He pulled him up to his feet. ‘You are the King’s boy,’ he said. ‘No idea what you mean. I am a palace orphan. Those things killed my family,’ he said pulling a face, stamping his feet on the ground, as various parts of the smashed glass made a noise on the floor. Seeing the damage on the floor, he surveyed the rest of the kitchen.
‘Well, King’s boy or not and we know you are, otherwise why would you come in here without permission? You need to help me clean this mess up,’ he said. His small head moving from side to side as he spoke each word at eye level to Vufus. Maybe, he is…Vufus stopped and nodded his head. He saw what the male was looking at, grabbed it and began to clean the floor. The kitchen help took the box and waited for Vufus to collect the glass and sweep it away. ‘That’s the wrong food you picked,’ he said as he glanced at the jar that Vufus had left on the large table in the centre of the kitchen. There were metal cutting objects hanging over the table. Vufus inspected where he was pointing. There were hooks for jars, large and small and cooking instruments stacked on each other, with the largest one at the stop. ‘No, it is not. Its chopped water fruit,’ he said as he went to lift the jar from the table. ‘Looks like it. But it’s actually minced and diced soil roots for preserving the food. If you eat that, you will be of no use to the King,’ he said with a wry smile, while still holding the box of broken glass and its contents and bending over. Vufus gave him a small grin.
‘Here. Hold this box. Let me get you some proper food,’ he said. He went towards the back of the kitchen and walked around the table. He looked at the large shelf, but walked to the next one and picked a large jar from it. Vufus was watching his every step. His stomach grumbled as the small man handed him the jar. Inside he could see large pieces of fruit that was preserved in the watery substance. He nodded his head up and down, when he handed him the jar. ‘So are we safe? What are you and the King working on?’ he said. ‘You really do ask a lot of questions for a kitchen hand,’ Vufus said eyeing him the whole time. ‘Don’t worry, we are safe. The King is alive and well I hear but…,’ Vufus said. Something is wrong here. His skin colour is odd and those eyes… The kitchen help was wandering around the large kitchen table. He was looking for something. He hesitated. Vufus’ eyes were on him as he reached for a knife. He pulled down a board and slowly began chopping a fruit into unequal pieces. He picked one up and ate it. He handed a piece to Vufus, with seeds still in it. The boy took it.
Vufus watched the kitchen help as he moved around the kitchen and towards the door. He turned to face Vufus. ‘Where is the King now, is he ok?’ he asked with a serious face, while munching at the fruit, its juices slipping down his face and mouth and some falling on the surface below, the yellow spots contrasting against the white marble. Vufus kept eating the fruit, while still holding the jar in this hand. His hand gripped it harder as he spoke. ‘I don’t know. But I hear he is well and fine,’ Vufus said. He walked around to the other side of the large table slowly. He counted the steps in his head, while he watched the kitchen help move to face the door, with his back to Vufus. The boy grabbed what he needed from the table counter top and swiftly moved it around to his back. The male spun around, and closed the door behind him with his open hands and walked towards where Vufus was. ‘Shall I make you some food?’ he said with his teeth slightly visible, showing off a stained brown colour. ‘Do you know where everything is?’ Vufus asked in a low tone.
The kitchen help spun around and caught Vufus with a sharp instrument, its glancing slice through the air finding its target. Vufus grabbed his shoulder, blood running down his arm. He was still holding the jar tightly to his chest with his other hand. Vufus was down on the floor crawling under the large table. On the floor, Vufus felt the male’s breath on his left shoulder, turned and jammed the jar straight into his face. It splattered with glass wedging itself into his face. He loosened his grip on the boy. They both fell and rolled, holding each other. They tossed and turned on the floor. Muffled words, crunching glass and screams filled the room. Vufus turned over on to his back under the table. He tried to wriggle free and saw him brushing his face. He can still see with his eyes, but his face is covered in bits of glass and blood. Break free now. He was sitting now on the boy’s chest. A knife in his left arm, his eyes focused on the boy. Vufus felt pieces of the broken glass on the floor under his hands. He tried to free his legs and get a kick on the man’s back. He moved his knees further up on each of
the boy’s hands. The male smiled down on him, his face and head shaking rapidly. He let out scream as he let go of the knife and swung at the boy’s neck. Vufus closed his eyes, and saw the flash of the metal blade. I cannot feel its sharp blow. He opened his eyes and saw a knife come crashing around, landing into the top of the man’s head. The knife came loose from his hand just as it reached Vufus’s neck. It fell from his hand. The man still laughing and bearing his teeth with a knife stuck into his head, staring at Vufus. Vufus saw a shadow over the kitchen intruder. I recognise him and his glowing face. ‘Samarth,’ Vufus shouted out. They both watched as the male on top of the boy changed into to a dark figure, and disintegrate falling into dust all around the boy. ‘You have returned. brother, a voice said behind them.’
Samarth picked the boy up from the ground. Holding him and spinning around, he caught his brother’s gaze. ‘Your head. What…?’ he asked. ‘Another time. You must have news. We have much to talk about, but I fear time is not on our side,’ Fareth said. Vufus was nestling his head into Samarth’s side. ‘Its fine. You can speak freely in front of the boy. We have learned and discussed much together, in your absence. And Kassobra, where is she?’ the King asked. Samarth moved a few steps closer to his brother. Embracing him, he said: ‘Our fate is now in her hands and the old Shamanic way and the creatures of the singing forest. We do not have much time. Come let us discuss it,’ Samarth said, with both hands on his brother’s shoulders. Fareth smiled and nodded, blinking his eyes. ‘But, dear brother, this new world of ours. What you and father have created will never be the same again. We will need to bring back some form of technology, but you know that,’ Samarth said. Fareth moved his head from side to side and held his brother closer. Hands on each other’s shoulders and eyes closed.
C H A P T E R 58
The Nasp
Tiuus pulled off the boots and saw the blisters were getting bigger and changing colour. ‘These boots and steps are causing severe pain. So close to the summit, he said, panting. He tied the boots in a knot and flung them over his shoulder, shuffling the bag onto his other shoulder. Reaching into his pocket, he gripped the silver blade and patted his stomach, tugging at the hair flowing from his chin. Tiuus smiled, breathing heavily. He heard a familiar flowing noise and walked towards it. No more attacks or strange creatures. In fact, silence and stillness. But I feel an uneasy presence around me. And a darker one above.
He sat, soaking his feet in a pool of water, the temperature making him groan and dipping them in and out. His mind drifted back to the palace and his last conversation with the prince. The mission and objectives were vague. It had started as an information gathering mission. The planet was unprepared for attacks and certainly not prepared for any wars or conflict. Yet my journey brought me untold attacks and challenges. His heart raced as he thought about the final the journey and whatever was waiting for him at the top of Glow Mountain. And it was waiting for me. But I have no idea what it is. But I feel its presence, its anger, its energy and its power with each and every step as I get closer. His feet glistened blue under the water and he pulled them out and stamped them on the ground.
Tiuus looked up towards the summit, sitting on a rock listening to the falling water as it crashed over some gleaming rocks. Close. The air is getting thinner and thinner. His panting shorter and faster. The early morning sunlight was not quite covering the giant mountain. ‘No Manith had climbed such a beast of rocks before, the Darra said. Nor anyone of this world,’ he panted. Only evil lies at the top. And only evil will win at the top, the Daara told me. Let them try it on me. His mind raced to the Naiads and the water kingdom. It had come at a cost; my mind now theirs. But their strength in numbers is in me now. He breathed in deep. The attack from the ice dogs had tested my physical strength and alertness. The demonic creatures had failed. Were they hers too? A test by the evil woman on the summit? He looked at his body, his hands, and his blistered feet. ‘These are my new skills and powers. But how and when to use them? Something was missing,’ he said shaking his hand, looking down at this feet and feeling the water flow around them. Remember what Samarth said. Your telepathic powers are growing but only use them to maximum effect, when essential. He pulled his feet from the cold water. He stood up and shook his body. The light was gaining and the darkness fading. I need to find shelter and rest. He remembered the old Darra man’s words. Mannu, knew these mountains better than anyone. Only travel during the blanket of darkness. The bee nectar inside you will protect you more at night. Use its strength and nocturnal energy. She has her day light watchers too and they are less frequent.
Tiuus walked to a break in the path and spotted a shelter with overhanging branches, thick with spikes and seeds. It would act as shelter in case of rain and the bright sunlight. He looked around again at his surroundings. He knelt down and placed his ear to the ground. He waited and counted to 20. Satisfied, he got up and went back to the temporary shelter. He kicked some leaves and dried debris from the area and made a pack. He rolled out the light canvas cover from his shoulder bag and kicked it flat. He collapsed on to it with a moan. His head still and his eyes closed. Tiuus fell asleep, holding the blade in this right hand, his mind and memories racing to form a dream. Maniths rarely dreamed, mother had told me. But lately, dreams are more frequent. He remembered the Daara’s words. There was a reason for this and to place trust in what they tell you. His hands held the knife tighter and his eyes closed moved rapidly. Tiuus could make out the image.
It was the same woman again. She appeared mystical and shone brighter. Older than me. Tiuus tried to reach out to her and ask her name. She never replies. Always the same thing. In every dream. She just stared at him and motioned for him to follow her. He followed her again. It’s the same plateau as in the last dream - barren and flat. She was trying to tell him something and pointing at him and all around. I cannot hear you, again. She is stopping at the same place, again. His body started to twitch and his eyes blinked more slowly. It was bright all around him. The woman was opening her mouth and trying to tell him something. She was waving her arms. Something was different in this dream. Looking around, he could see the terrain changing with her movement. Salt in the air. Her dress was waving in the breeze. Her long golden hair catching a beat to the breeze. But her face is sad. Always sad. Tiuus moved closer to her. He could see her skin was wrinkled and she moved her hands around more frantically. She ran at him, but he remained still and standing. His feet cemented into the soil. I can see your face clearly. The lines. The age. Your eyes. So familiar. Her hair dancing in the breeze, standing on its end. She came to his ear. Yet, it was a mere whisper: ‘Wake up, Tiuus.’
******
Kassobra reached out and touched the sides. Just darkness. The tunnel was straight, but dark and very damp. Drops of water fell on her head. Ice cold. How far am I underground. Has it been a full day? She had counted the hours in her head. There are never mistakes with my numbers. ‘We are close,’ she said. She dipped in the water and it made a splash. She pushed the side of the tunnel with its wood and heard a thud sound. The small boat hit the side of the tunnel. The metal hooks for the oars jangled a nose along its tunnel. Samarth had been clear. No lights. And at the end of the second full day, release the Nasp and he will find the meeting point. She looked into the dark for the Nasp and made out a shadow. It moved its nose and puffed at the air. He can always sense my thoughts and moods. The creature shuffled in the boat. She heard its claws grip the boat’s bottom and saw its frame move closer. He brushed its head against her hand slowly. She smiled. ‘It’s just you and I against the world,’ she whispered. The Nasp muttered low into her hand. He had a role to play too in the upcoming conflict. But is my own mind and spirit ready for the task ahead? With each stroke of the oar and splash of the boat’s front, she sensed only danger and evil ahead. The tunnel and its utter darkness all around us and the Nasp only contributed to this fear. And what was the meeting point, and who did Samarth speak about would be there? She splashed the
oar heavily into the water, hearing a longer echo. The Nasp let off a slow piercing sound. ‘Understood,’ she whispered. I hope he was now back at the palace with his brother. Is he also going mad? Snap out of it and focus on the mission ahead!
The boat hit a sharp object and let off an echo along the tunnel. Too loud, again. Kassobra counted again. She tried to force the boat to move with the oar. It was wedged up against something. Could this be the end of this part of the secret river? She whispered the Nasp’s name out. He responded and leapt from the boat. She could hear it sniff the air again and longer. The creature let out a low gurgling screech and then went silent. I can’t hear his sniffing. Crawling to the end of the boat, she reached out with her hands and grabbed the top of the boat, her feet touching the end. And felt the sides of the tunnel. Damp and cold. She left the oar beside her and crawled the rest of the way. ‘Nasp,’ she said quietly. No sound. ‘Nasp. Are you there?’ she asked, her tone getting louder. Silence. Where is he? Kassobra felt around in the dark for her bag. Where is the light? She heard Samarth’s final words echo again in her head. No light until he returns. I need to see what was blocking the boat. She heard a shuffle, and then a scratching sound. ‘Nasp,’ she said in a higher pitch. She jerked her hand back. ‘What was that?’ she said aloud. ‘I need to find the light,’ she mumbled. Kassobra grasped her small bag and pulled at the contents. She pushed the slide around in her hand. It flickered. Did I forget to charge it in the sun? It flickered again. And then the light in her hand sprung into life and revealed what was in front of her. ‘There you are,’ she said.