Dave saw Al get up and walk over to Tom.
“You’re going back?” asked Al, disappointment coloring his question.
“Yes,” said Tom. “Someone who has seen Hoffstetter firsthand needs to warn Halcyon, and we have some unfinished business there. If you ever do come back to Halcyon secretly, maybe you’ll need friends on the inside.” They shook hands.
“You’ve been a good friend, Tom,” said Al.
Just then Glenn MacDonald walked up to Al and offered his hand. “I did you a great injustice, Al, by locking you up when you came to warn me. I’m sorry!”
Al smiled and shook his hand. “I’m glad that we survived the storm,” said Al. “I know you were under tremendous pressure after McTavish and Wilson disappeared.”
“I’m not going to make the same mistake twice,” said MacDonald. “We’re leaving this island and heading back to Halcyon. I have an inkling that not all of you are coming back with us. There are about forty-five of you, and we can’t easily manage all the longboats anyway with the few people we have left. Why don’t you take three longboats on your journey? Return them to Halcyon when, or if, you ever come back. I’m sure the fees will be reasonable.” MacDonald smiled and offered Al his hand again in farewell.
“They’re not going to like it!” said Al, shaking MacDonald’s hand vigorously.
“There are a lot of things about this unmitigated disaster that they’re not going to like back in Halcyon, but I think, in the final analysis, Hoffstetter’s treachery will outweigh them all. Anyway, I’m irreplaceable!” With that MacDonald and those going to New Jerusalem headed for the longboats.
An intense period of work ensued. A giant funeral pyre was constructed at the entrance to the underground tunnel. All the bodies, both human and ape¬man, were burned.
But an atmosphere of dread—that somehow Hoffstetter would cook up some new surprise—hung over all who remained. They worked tirelessly to load the boats and get ready to cast off as soon as possible.
MacDonald sent a group to gather all the surplus supplies, and to divide them equally among the longboats. He generously gave an extra load—intended for the City Point colony—to the new exiles.
Late in the afternoon, everything was set for their departure. Floyd, Al, and Dave had drawn Matthews a map to the headwaters of Botany Creek and warned him about the lupi. Matthews had gained two dozen followers who also wanted to make the attempt. Al and Floyd didn’t tell Matthews all they knew about the site of New Jerusalem, since they had promised to keep it secret, but it was clear that through his brother Jared, Matthews understood enough about the location to find the entrance to the valley on his own.
Dave, Floyd, and Al joined MacDonald on Headquarters Hill. He was looking intently toward Fort Linderhof. “They have that place crowded with ape¬men. I’m sure they’re planning something. No way are we going to spend another night here. We’re heading out right now, and I urge you guys to do the same,” said MacDonald.
“No need to tell us twice. We just came up to say goodbye before we shove off.” After shaking hands all around, the two groups parted ways, wishing each other Godspeed.
The most difficult parting for Dave was saying goodbye to Tom Chartrand and Dwight Larson, who both remained firm in their decision to return to Halcyon. They knew there was a possibility they could be linked to Al’s escape, but they were willing to take that chance.
The wind was out of the west as the boats set out. MacDonald’s boats rapidly moved downstream and disappeared. The three longboats moving upstream made slow progress. Nevertheless they worked vigorously to get as far away from Fort Linderhof as possible. The Hansa were not much use in rowing, since they were too small, but they were dispersed among the three boats to make sure they would all find their way to Torburg, even if they were separated during the night.
The moon was newly risen and was just beginning to wane. Traveling near the left bank, bright moonlight showed the trees on the shore clearly. After a time they came to a widening of the river dotted with many small islands. Dave remembered this geography from Granomer’s map and with the help of the Hansa, easily located the tributary they were seeking, even though it was hidden by an island and heavily wooded promontories.
They were well above Fort Linderhof, but the crew continued to row all night. Sometime before dawn they found themselves in a long lake. They anchored and slept in the boat until the sun rose, and then proceeded up the lake, which Hanomer identified as Lake Tor. Within an hour, Dave, who was in the lead longboat, saw a large island in the distance. The island was shaped like a boot with the toe pointing toward him. At the far end of the island, the top of the boot rose 2,000 feet above the water and ended in a flat snow-covered mesa. A creek cascaded down from the heights into the middle of the island, where the laces of the boot would have been, and emptied into Lake Tor.
So this is Torburg. I wonder why the Hansa have such bad memories of this place?
He did not have much time to wonder. Hanomer pointed to a location on the eastern shore of the lake, where Hansa from his village were camped. Dave’s longboat landed on a sandy beach beside the Hansa camp. As Dave climbed out of the boat, Hanomer’s wife came through the crowd and ran to meet her husband. Dave also greeted her, kneeling to clasp arms in the Hansa fashion.
Hanomer turned to Dave. “Friend Rokomer, I would like to move my people to the safety of the island as soon as possible. Since Meglir is on the move, he could surprise us here.”
“Of course,” said Dave. “We have three longboats, and we could move your whole village quickly.”
After Hanomer told the Hansa they were going to the island, there were signs of fear but no complaints. They spent the rest of that day transporting the Hansa and their supplies to the island.
Chapter 42 Another Dream
Dave found himself in his recurring nightmare. He was standing in a hospital room at the foot of a bed. On the bed in front of him he saw his own corpse, the lifeless eyes open and fixed on the ceiling. He and the corpse were bathed in a wonderful bright light. He knew this was all a sham. He knew how it would end. Still he walked down the hallway toward the light. Even as it filled him with expectation and delight as it had so many times before, his anger grew at the sham—the raised expectations of the delight of the mountains and his inability to get there. He cried out in anger and shook his fist in the air.
“I’m not going to even try for the mountain anymore. I’m not going to play your game anymore!” he shouted into the tunnel.
Who am I shouting at? I don’t even believe in God.
“If you’re there, can’t you make this dream end differently? Answer me!”
There was no answer. The silence was absolute. All he saw was the light.
Just as I thought.
He left the tunnel and emerged onto a broad heath bathed in even brighter sunlight. He looked down, and his limbs and body were made of glass, filled not with organs or bones, but with tendrils of brown smoke. As he looked across the heath, he saw others. Some were a deep gray color; others seemed more transparent than he. All were walking toward the light, which emanated, not from a sun in the sky, but from a mountain range far in the distance.
At first he was going to join the others, just to experience the early delight of the journey, even though he knew how it would end. But no, he had no chance. It was no use. Why play along with the sham? He started to look around.
Off to his right there was a wooded glen he had never seen before, since he had always directly climbed up onto the broad moor in his eagerness to head for the light. Out of desperation to make the dream end differently, Dave headed for the glen. He walked down a gentle slope through tall beeches, his favorite trees. He heard the sound of water gurgling merrily ahead of him. He came upon a glade, and in the midst of the glade he saw a pool in a round stone basin. At the opposite end of the stone basin was the statue of a lion, its head lifted in agony. In its upraised stone paw was an enormous thorn, and from the woun
ded paw sprang the spring that fed the pool. The liquid flowing into the pool was the color of Burgundy wine.
The head of the stone lion turned toward him, and the stone lips moved.
“What do you want, my son?” said the lion in a deep, sonorous voice.
“I want to get to the mountains,” said Dave, with a note of despair.
“But you cannot,” said the lion.
“Why can’t I?” asked Dave.
“Absolute Goodness is perilous and deadly. You cannot approach as you are, for the fire of the Goodness would destroy you.”
“Then what am I to do?
“Drink of the wine.”
Dave knelt down and drank the wine. He had enjoyed some wonderful wines before, but this surpassed them all. He looked at his body, and the stain of the wine had infused him, and now his dull brown was red.
Oh no! This has made things worse!
“You must bathe in the pool,” said the stone lion.
Dave wavered.
Oh, what does it matter anyway? Sooner or later I turn back and go to dig the pit.
He stepped over the rim, expecting to touch the bottom of the basin, but there was no bottom. He tried to grab the lip, but he had already overbalanced and plunged in, his hands slipping off the edge. He sank for several feet, then kicked his legs and broke the surface. He found some steps he had not seen before and climbed out. After he stepped out he looked at his body. He held up his hand. It shone with a light that made sunlight seem dull. His whole body shone. He turned to thank the lion, but only a stone statue stood before him.
He left the glade, climbed out of the glen and went to the heather. His body gave off so much light that the heather seemed to exist in twilight. Every once in a while he saw ghostlike figures. Approaching them, they fled in terror and agony at the light coming from his body.
He saw the mountains, and the delight of the mountains filled him with expectation. He walked to the mountains. He was going home.
Chapter 43 Eleytheria
The next weeks were spent organizing the homesteads. Hanomer’s village would be located on the low rising hills flanking the high mesa of Torburg, since this terrain was much like the hills of the village they had left. The Halcyonites settled on the flat land near the water’s edge. Here there was ample room for fields and gardens. Dave, Al, and Pam worked with some of the Hansa to construct cottages and verandas on the hillside, while other Hansa dug into the earth and rock to make their underground rooms.
Floyd set the Halcyonites to work right away, planting their gardens with the few seeds they had brought from Halcyon and others that the Hansa had given them. So urgent was Floyd’s desire to get their first crop in that they lived in tents until they could construct log cabins beside their garden plots.
Dave, Al, and Pam decided to build their small one¬room cottages at the base of the foothills on a wide stone terrace where the stream cascaded out of the foothills. In this space between the two villages, they could overlook the fields of the Halcyonites, but were only a few minutes walk from their Hansa friends. They shared a common cooking fire at the edge of a stone ledge that gave them a view of Lake Tor.
On one clear summer’s evening, when the garden plots were in and the cottages of the Hansa were complete, the island’s new inhabitants decided to have a feast. The Hansa had caught a very large fish, which was roasting over a fire pit in a glen formed by the rushing creek in the midst of the Hansa village. The whole island was invited, and everyone sat together late into the evening, laughing, telling stories, and singing. Although the outcasts from Halcyon knew few Hansa words, several of the Hansa were well enough versed in English to carry on conversations with them.
After everyone had eaten their fill, they all sat around the fire, some quietly conversing, others already dozing.
“What should we call this place?” Floyd asked.
Everyone looked at Al. “Why look at me?”
“The Hansa have their sages,” said Dave. “We have to have a sage as well, and you’re it.”
“I see. I’m no Granomer, but I suppose I should give it a shot. Give me a moment.”
They all waited impatiently for Al to speak.
“I think we should call this place Eleytheria, which is Greek for “freedom.” That’s what this place means to us all.”
There was a murmur of agreement.
“We need to have some kind of a leader,” said Floyd.
“You’ve been our leader until now. Why don’t you do it?” asked Dave.
“I have a gift for exploration,” said Floyd, “but I’m no good as a diplomat or as an administrator. How about Al?”
“We need someone who can represent both the Hansa and those of us from Halcyon,” Al said. “I think Dave would be the best man for the job.”
Eventually, both the human and Hansa populations of the island of Eleytheria agreed. In democratic elections, they chose Dave as the first mayor of their new community, and designated Al and Hanomer as deputy mayors.
__________
Mayor Schuster and Deputy Mayor Gleeson were relaxing at the mayoralty mansion, a much larger three¬roomed Hansa cottage built on the stone terrace overlooking the lower village. It had been symbolic of their newfound freedom that one of Dave’s first acts as mayor had been to marry Pam and Al.
“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we, Al?”
“Yes,” said Al. “I wouldn’t have believed it, but the Hansa are so industrious! Everyone has a cottage or a log cabin, and we even have the first crops from our garden plots. At first I was apprehensive that I would see Meglir’s army appearing on the shores of the lake, but since that hasn’t happened, I can hope that either he doesn’t know where we are, or we are too insignificant for him to care.”
Dave gulped down some more siph, a regular gift from Hanomer, then stretched himself out even more comfortably on his homemade deck chair.
“Still,” said Dave as he looked up at the high mesa of Torburg, “I won’t really feel safe until we reopen the fortress and supply it, so that we could sustain a long siege.”
“When are you going to do that?”
“I don’t know. Hanomer seems afraid of the place, and until now he’s refused to attempt it. I’ve let it go because we’ve had so much to do. I should talk to him again.”
Dave stared up the mountain slope as if hoping to unearth its secrets.
“Well, Meglir is a worry,” said Al. “Still, I feel happier and more content than I can remember feeling since the dislocation.”
“You and Pam seem very happy. When I first met her, I remember, she had this touch of sadness.”
“Do you remember,” said Al, “she started to change soon after we were on the river? I suppose being married is part of it, but somehow I think being away from Halcyon is an even bigger part of it.”
“Why is that, Al?” asked Dave. “What was so wrong about Halcyon?”
Al sipped thoughtfully on his tea. “Pam and I were talking about it only this morning. Although we felt the oppression of the place while we were there, we couldn’t put it into words until we got away from there and tasted freedom. You really don’t know how oppressive that place is until you escape it.” Al ran his hand through his hair and leaned forward.
“Halcyon has two major problems. First of all, Hoffstetter and his cronies believed that religion in general, or fundamentalism in particular, was the enemy and was responsible for tyranny and intolerance. By focusing on destroying their enemy, in their arrogance they were blind to their own ruthlessness. As soon as you believe anything to be true, you automatically must believe that contradictory views are false. Tyranny does not originate in a strong conviction of the truth but in an unwillingness to allow others the freedom to disagree.
“It begins with benign condescension. You’ve heard it expressed over a beer at the Student Union Building: ‘Those poor religious fundamentalists! If they only had our intellectual power and education, they’d throw off the shackles o
f their charlatan leaders and see the world as we see it!’ Next, one becomes convinced he must intervene in other people’s beliefs and lives for their own safety. ‘I must protect those who cannot protect themselves,’ such as children from their parents. By that point, one is already well on the road to tyranny.”
“But aren’t you saying that objective truth is the enemy?” asked Dave. “And doesn’t that lead to an even worse position, where everything becomes subjective?”
“Not at all! That is not where I am heading,” said Al. “I’m a Christian, and so I very much believe that some things are absolutely true and other things are absolutely false. I also believe that acting on that truth is incredibly important, and not acting on it is dangerous. I admit that might tempt me to take things into my own hands and impose my views on others.”
“So what keeps you from doing that?”
“Well, if I truly believe God allows men free will and the right to make their own decisions for good or for ill, then I won’t trample on that right to decide, no matter how high the stakes are. I know a lot of religious people disagree, believing that people need to be rescued whether they want to be or not. I just think that’s wrong and leads to dishonesty.
“It also leads to Halcyon’s second problem. As a theist, I can have a compelling conviction and still believe that others must be allowed the full, unfettered freedom to make up their own minds. Why? Because I believe they have an intrinsic value and so they have a right to choose for good or for ill.
“Materialists, in contrast, believe that human beings are no more than a collection of complex chemical reactions. If materialists believe in some kind of autonomy or intrinsic value, they obtained it somewhere else. It doesn’t come from within their philosophy—it can’t. They are the ones who tend toward tyranny, because they have no rational basis for allowing people complete freedom. Eventually some altruistic impulse that they experience will trump all other virtues, and they will manipulate others to that end, thinking they are doing good.
The Halcyon Dislocation Page 36