by Ivory Autumn
A strange glowing light appeared through the fog, until it brightened into a perfect shaft of concentrated light, only inches away from her.
“Ivory,” the voice called again, sounding sad. “Why don’t you come to me?”
Ivory whirled around in confusion. The voice was everywhere. The images, once they’d started, wouldn’t stop. She took an unsure step towards the light, but somehow, it didn’t feel right.
“I’m afraid,” Ivory whispered, trying to get a glimpse of the speaker.
“I only want to help you,” the voice sighed sweetly. “Is that wrong?”
The voice drifted through the air, sweeter than sugar and softer than melted butter. It sounded so nice, so very nice, like something that she could finally trust. It sounded like the calming waves of the sea lapping up onto the sand, like something out of a forgotten lullaby.
She took another step towards the light, straining her eyes to see through the fog. She heard a slight jangling and clinking, and then silence again. She shivered, her teeth chattered. A feeling of incredible coldness closed in around her as the icy fingers of the fog pricked her skin.
“Come closer to the light,” the hypnotic voice chanted, “and warm yourself.”
She was cold, she had to admit that. She walked steadily closer, closer, and closer, to the voice, and then abruptly stopped as a cold, icy breeze blew around her neck and shoulders.
“Good, good…” the velvety voice cooed. “Just a little closer and you will be warm and safe at last.”
The cold was getting more concentrated. She hugged herself to keep from freezing, and then took a step nearer to the voice.
“Good,” the voice chimed. “You are now on MY path!”
The light she had followed abruptly went black and a wash of icy wind hit her in the face. She cried out in fright as if she'd been awakened from a bad dream. Something was definitely not right. It was too cold, too dark. She turned to run, but it was too late.
A strong hand grasped her, and covered her mouth. She saw a flash of light and heard a clank of keys as something cold and heavy was placed around her neck. A confusing haze gradually fell over her mind, as a thick fog of despair like none she’d ever known clenched her heart.
“You are mine!” the velvety voice hissed. “MINE!”
~~~~
Chapter Fourteen
The Foglocker’s Path
Rhapsody got off his horse and held his staff aloft, looking around at the fog with indifference. The light the staff gave off in the thick fog was little more than the glow of a few fireflies trapped inside a bottle. “Perhaps I’ll try something different.” Rhapsody leaned forward, filled his lungs with air, as if he was getting ready to blow out a host of birthday candles. Then he let the air out of his lungs in one long breath. The fog parted, only for a second and then floated back around him.
“Pesky, pesky fog,” Rhapsody said, fanning the air. “Trying to blow fog away is like trying to carve a hole into water. Impossible!”
“What do we do now?” Andrew asked, looking hopelessly about them, seeing only fog swirling in every direction. “We’ll never find her in this.”
“It’s up to you now, Andrew,” Rhapsody murmured. “My talents and gifts only work so far. As for you, I can see much unexplored potential.”
Andrew shook his head. “How is it up to me?”
“Ivory found you once when you were in trouble. Isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, she did, but...”
“Then you must find her. Logically it’s only fair.”
“Everything isn’t always fair.”
“No, no, it’s not. But if you could find her, you’d do it. Right?”
“Yes, I would.”
“Then look about you, and tell me what you see.”
“Well, that’s easy. Fog.”
“No! No, NO!” Rhapsody snapped. “Don’t look at the fog, look past it---through it. Do whatever you did in the valley of the Chewthumps; see beyond this DRATTED FOG!”
“But I don’t know what I did. It just happened!”
Rhapsody’s eyes flamed. “But elves always know what they did---they always remember what gifts they've used and how they did it. ALWAYS!”
“Maybe I’m not an elf then, because, I don’t remember.”
“Not an elf? But of coarse you are! You just need to remember who you are, and then what you do will become easier.”
“Couldn't you just teach me how to use my gifts, since you seem to know so much about them?”
Rhapsody shook his head. “I’m terribly sorry, that I cannot do. Teaching such things cannot be done by me. It must be done by someone more certified in that field---such as yourself.”
“Myself?”
“Yes, yourself. You see, Andrew, no matter the gifts you possess, they are like any other talent. They must be developed, sharpened. You are like a kitten first opening its eyes; you must first learn to see and then learn to comprehend what you see. No teacher can do that for you. No one but you can open your eyes.”
“But, my eyes are open.”
“Perhaps you just don’t know how to see then. That makes all the difference. ALL THE DIFFERENCE!”
Andrew sighed in frustration. “Rhapsody, then I must be blind. Because I can’t see anything.”
“Andrew, you cannot see because you are focused on the fog around you. Try to see past the fog. TRY! Look past all the clutter in your mind. Focus on what it is you wish to see. Fog is only the sky hugging the earth, trying to comfort its fear of the darkness. You don’t need the comfort of the fog, Andrew. It’s useless. It only muddles the mind! True vision is seeing past the fog, and obstacles, to something much greater because you believe it is there. ”
Andrew closed his eyes while he listened to Rhapsody’s soft voice, trying, as Rhapsody said, to 'see through the fog.'
Rhapsody looked at Andrew expectantly. “Tell me, Andrew, do you see?”
“Yes…” Andrew murmured, after a long pause. “Yes…I do see something.”
Rhapsody’s face showed excitement. “Yes?”
“I see Talic!”
Rhapsody did not look amused. “Very funny. Try again.”
“Fine,” Andrew sighed, and stared blankly ahead, concentrating hard. After what seemed like forever, he started in the saddle, his eyes burning a vibrant green, like new leaves in springtime. He pointed to the far right. “Ivory’s that way. See that black earth, over there, how its color is different compared to the color of the dirt surrounding it? That’s the path she’s on.”
Rhapsody held up his glowing staff, and nodded. “Yes. I see it. How very curious. The earth looks black as coal. What else did you see, Andrew?”
Andrew shook his head. “It’s hard to say. Everything’s so murky, so confusing. Ivory is in trouble is all I know.”
“Then it’s best we get to her, and soon,” Rhapsody said, steering his horse onto the black path, with Talic, and Freddie riding behind them, on Flags.
The going was slow. The dark path was winding, and full of obstacles and fallen trees. The further they went, the deeper the path sunk into the ground. The path led down into a dipper- shaped valley. The longer they traveled the thicker and more musty and heavy the air became, like an old stuffy room that had never had a window opened in a thousand years.
Above them, Andrew could feel—more than see---the presence of the sun creeping over the hills. Morning, Andrew thought longingly. If only the blasted fog could remember that it was time for it to be leaving.
“Ugh,” Talic said. “It’s so stuffy, it’s hard to believe that we’re outdoors.”
“We’re not outdoors,” Rhapsody murmured. “We’re on the Foglocker's path; there’s no place more encompassed by invisible walls than here.”
Andrew looked up curiously. “The Foglocker’s path?”
Rhapsody nodded. “The Foglocker’s way is one of confinement, imprisonment, and captivity. Air is a source of freedom, so in this place, there is little
of any of that. Now take care and do as I say.” He put a finger to his lips and got off his horse, peering behind a low boulder atop a hill. “Quickly, Andrew, look to where I point and tell me what you see.”
The others got off their horses and looked to where Rhapsody was pointing. Descending the hill they could see the dark path, steadily spiraling downward until it became clouded over with dark patches of thick fog.
Talic couldn’t stand holding his breath any longer, and he let out a loud gust of air. “I don’t see anything. What are you looking at?”
Rhapsody leaned his back against a rock and sighed in exasperation. “HUSH!”
Rhapsody put a hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “Now, Andrew, look with those eyes of yours, and tell us what it is you see. Is Ivory down there?”
Andrew scanned the murky land, with squinted eyes. The hill was dotted with scruffy trees and briers. The fog floated in thick patchy clumps, revealing obscure bits of land, only to cover it back up.
Andrew shook his head. “I can’t do it again, Rhapsody. It’s so hard. The fog’s too thick. When I try too look, it feels like the sky is trying to crush me with its weight.”
“You must do it again!” Rhapsody thundered. “Or we’ll never find Ivory before we are trapped here ourselves. You must understand that the longer we stay in this land the harder it will be for us to get out of it.”
“Okay, I’ll try harder.” Andrew ran his fingers through his hair and concentrated hard, staring below him at the thick fog until his eyes watered and burned. He turned to tell Rhapsody that it wasn’t any use, when his eyes unexpectedly burned green and he saw through the thick fog as if he was traveling down a long mountain tunnel, until he saw a bumpy plain, sheltered on either side by low hills covered in jutting rocks.
Standing atop one of the low hills was a man. His long body gradually became visible through the parting fog. His face was scarred and wrinkled, like a bird-pecked pear. His clothes clung raggedly about him. Sewn into every inch of his ragged cloak were thick keys, of every shape and size, making it look like an iron cloak, probably considerably weighty, considering the metal sewn into it. Heavy chains grew out of the man’s scalp like iron hair braided together in strange looking knots. Attached to the strands of chains were locks and keys, like nightmarish Christmas tree ornaments. The man had a black shepherd’s crook in his hand, and embedded up and down the crook, were odd hooks. Attached to the hooks were hundreds of keys of various sizes, makes, and colors. When the man walked, the sound of the clanking locks, tinkling keys, and jangling chains could be heard.
The man abruptly turned, as if he saw Andrew staring at him. He smiled, showing off a mouthful of teeth, made up of sharp jagged keys that protruded from his mouth and gums in an unsightly fashion. The man’s hard stare made Andrew catch his breath and his chest burn. He tried to turn his eyes away from the man. But he couldn’t!
Just when Andrew thought he couldn’t stand it any longer, the man turned his gaze and raised his staff and shook it at a vast heard of black sheep on the hill behind him. All the sheep looked as thin as death, miserable and hungry. Each sheep had a heavy chain around its neck, with a weighty lock attached to the chain that weighed the sheep down as it walked, so it couldn’t look up.
The Foglocker turned his gaze back to Andrew. The gaze was so powerful that Andrew let out a painful gasp. The man’s fierce glare summoned him, called to him, and begged him to follow. Andrew shuddered and took a step forward, nearly toppling over the incline.
“No!” Rhapsody cried, placing his hands over Andrew’s eyes and pulling the boy back.
“Let me go!” Andrew shouted, struggling against Rhapsody. “Let…me…go?” His eyes no longer burned green, and he looked around him, confused and dazed.
“You’re okay, Andrew,” Rhapsody said. “The Foglocker cannot see you, here. You’re too far away. But when he is near, never gaze into his eyes. NEVER!”
“What does he want?” Andrew wondered, wiping his forehead.
“You, me, anyone and everyone.”
“But why?”
“Who’s to say why? He just does.”
Andrew looked troubled. “I saw black sheep, hundreds of them, following that man, the Foglocker. But I didn’t see Ivory.”
“It wasn’t sheep you saw, Andrew.”
“It wasn’t?”
“It was sheeple.”
“I don’t understand?”
Rhapsody leaned in closer, gazing at Freddie, Andrew, and Talic with serious eyes.
“You see, boys, all those who listen to the Foglocker’s voice, when he is near, are brought under his power. He leads those who follow him, onto paths that are uneven, and onto treacherous grounds. He leads many away from their good course, with his soft voice and honeyed words. He gives promises of better ground, and thus many are deceived by him and are taken. The promises he lures many away with are as simple as promises of warmth, food, shelter, and money. But all he offers is the illusion of such things. Nothing he promises is real. His lies are hidden in this fog, where he preys upon the vulnerable who see his illusions as real. Someday, when good is restored to the earth, his fog will lift, and so his lies will be revealed and truth restored. But for now, this land, this terrible place, is where many a wanderer has come to the end of his journey. Thus is the dreary way of the Foglocker, and his miserable followers. His joy is their misery and his life is spent luring wanderers to his fold.”
Andrew looked warily below them at the mist. “Do you think Ivory is with him then? Like those other sheeple.”
Rhapsody nodded. “Yes, I’m certain of it. Andrew you must lead us through this fog, into that miserable valley.”
Andrew hesitated. “But, if Ivory is chained like those other poor beings, how do we unlock her?”
Rhapsody let out a bitter laugh. “The key to her freedom is in her hands.”
“If it’s in her hands, then why doesn’t she free herself?”
“Many a prisoner holds the key to his freedom. But the power for him to put the key into the lock, and turn it, is not---unless they know that the key is in their hands, and that there is
someone to help them lift it to the lock. Now lead on, Andrew. Every moment we squander, the harder it will be for Ivory to become free.”
Andrew sighed, remembering the awful eyes of the Foglocker. “Alright, let’s go.”
The travelers left their horses on the top of the hill, behind a low bolder, and then trekked onward down the path, closer to the Foglocker. Nearing the bottom, the fog momentarily lifted, and they all paused, taking in the sad view.
“Unbelievable, Freddie murmured, peering from behind a shrub at the black beings Andrew had thought were sheep. They dotted the hill like black mold on a dry crust of bread. The poor sheeple were standing on all fours, like dogs. Their skin was coated in dark black mud, and their clothes were ragged. Their eyes were dark in an eternal message of misery.
Rhapsody pointed to a prostrate form amid the crowd of black beings. “Look and behold what the Foglocker has done to Ivory. He has taken her captive, and used her own fear of being forsaken to bind her in chains.”
At his words, a terrible moaning filled the air as the Foglocker let out a loud cry, and shook his key-covered cane. “Follow! Follow!”
“No one look into his eyes!” Rhapsody commanded. “No one!”
~~~~
Chapter Fifteen
Breaking Bonds
Ivory sat on her haunches, feeling cold and miserable. The chain with the heavy lock bolted to it dug uncomfortably into her neck, making it a most painful to look up.
Every time she tried to raise her head, the chain around her neck would pull her like a magnet toward the Foglocker. When he summoned, she had no choice but to follow. She stumbled blindly over rocks and sticks, tripping through the mud, and wallowing through it like an animal. The mud seeped into her skin, like a poisonous dye, causing her countenance to grow dark.
She cried out as she fell, scraping her
knee across a jagged rock. She could see the blood from the gash mixing with the dark mud. She wondered if she would be obliterated until nothing but oily black mud remained. She sobbed, and closed her eyes, trying to shut out the mesmerizing whisperings of the Foglocker that urged her to keep following him. The voice rose up from the ground, filled the empty shadows, drenched the air with a suffocating heaviness, echoed off rocks, and rolled over the lonely hills, in a never-ending chant. She had an awful feeling that she'd die in this place, away from her friends, away from everything she loved. She doubled over crying, her body racked with sobs of the hopeless.
A warm hand touched her back, and she stiffened, her body going rigid. Against her will, a gentle finger tipped her mud-covered face up. Through a blur of her own tears, she saw Andrew, like the face of a boyish angel. He had a concerned look on his face, his wavy brown hair hung down over his forehead. His blue eyes looked at her with such sadness that she felt a sudden hunger to comfort him.
“Ivory?” he asked, trying to smile. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, Andrew,” she sobbed, shaking uncontrollably and clutching him as if she’d never let go. “Why, oh why are you here?”
Andrew wrapped his arms around her. “That’s a silly question. Why wouldn’t I be here? Everything is going to be okay, Ivory. We don't have much time. Rhapsody can't distract the Foglocker for long, he...” Andrew was stopped mid-sentence, as the voice of the Foglocker howled through the air, like a moaning wind through a cracked pane of glass. “Follow! Followwww.”