Finding The Soul Bridge (The Soul Fire Saga Book 1)

by Zax Vagen

  Jem was readying his pack and glanced up at where Kelvin was pointing. Just two hills away from their perspective was the shaman’s hut. It was barely visible at all, except for those who knew what to look for.

  “If we had left that place in good light we would have seen the short route.” said Jem.

  “That silly old man.” said Kelvin, “He sent us on a two day trek through mountain and jungle for what?”

  “Who said journeys inspire, destinations despair?” mumbled Thist through his own mouth full of grass.

  Kelvin contemplated the words for a minute. “I must say it was a nice adventure going the long way around, wasn’t it?”

  “That forest was a sight for sure!” said Jem. “Let’s go boys.”

  Thist tipped his hat up and looked at the horizon over the river. “There is more of the same forest on the other side of the river; if we had gone the short route we would have seen it anyway”.

  “Either way.” said Kelvin. “We cannot regain the time that we have lost. We can only look forward and try harder to concentrate on the way.”

  Jem kicked Thist on the buttock. “We must go, time for reflection is over.”

  Thist grabbed his gear and shouldered it high; they were going to wade through the river. Each boy had a grip on a short line that they would use to stabilize themselves. Only one person was to move at any given time, the other two would be the anchors. They took turns taking a step at a time making sure that they were firmly planted before giving the signal to the next person to move.

  As they moved they would prod the river bed with their staffs and find a hole, a boulder, loose rocks and sand. Sometimes the staff struck an eel, which would lash out with its tail and bite at the same time.

  The river was flowing more calmly in this area and keeping balanced was not difficult. All manner of fish were teaming in the water; minnows darted around in schools and salmon cruised lazily upstream. Perhaps the salmon were swimming fast but the pace at which they were gaining against the current was glacial. Some kretchin fish would be seen jumping out of the river and snatching at insects before disappearing with a splash. The water was clear and the sun reflected off the smooth surface and scattered on the white water.

  As they approached the centre of the river it became shallow until the trio stood ankle deep on a large pile of pebbles.

  Salmon were delicious, but hard to catch. It seemed that you could just reach out and grab them but when disturbed they could be gone in a flash.

  Kelvin had a bunch of fresh arrows. He had become adept at picking a small branch or a twig and flicking his knife across it, making quick work of the fletching art. It had become clear to the other two that Kelvin’s brush with the jaguar had made an impression on him. “These salmon are going to make a great meal,” said Kelvin.

  He tied the short line to the back of his longest arrow, making sure that it was secure. “One of you boys must hold the end of the fish line.” said Kelvin.

  Kelvin went down on his knees in the shallow water. He put the arrow head in the water on the steepest edge of the little island and gazed into the water waiting for a salmon to pass.

  “Hold the line tight,” said Kelvin, “the fish might fight back.”

  Jem and Thist both crouched close to Kelvin holding their packs and Kelvin’s pack above the water in a precarious balancing act.

  Kelvin loosed the arrow and missed. “Blast!” he exclaimed.

  The shot startled all the fish in the area. Several kretchin fish jumped out of the water at the same time. This caused a cascade of startled kretchin fish to jump out further down river.

  The other two were observing the spectacle. Kelvin drew back again, and fired another shot at the next salmon to pass by. “Missed again!” he exclaimed.

  Another wave of kretchin fish leapt from the river. Thist let out a giggle. Jem held back his laugh, biting his bottom lip and scrunching up his face. Kelvin flushed, he had become proud of his archery, but he came to the realization that a lucky shot or two in the beginning is what sets you up for failure in the end. No matter how good your tools are you still have to hone the skills to use them.

  Kelvin drew the line in. “What am I doing wrong?” He asked the other two.

  “Maybe the lanyard is messing with your trajectory” said Thist with a broad grin. “Try it one more time. Here comes a big one.”

  Kelvin took a deep breath, hunched down and concentrated. He loosed the arrow. “Missed!!” he shouted in anger.

  Thist burst out laughing as a volley of kretchin fish launched out of the water. He laughed loud, tears ran down his cheeks. “Try one more time” he squeaked almost dropping his bag.

  Jem was laughing more quietly than Thist, trying to hide his mirth from Kelvin, but he failed.

  Kelvin stood up, his wet trousers clinging to his legs. “I’m cold and wet and annoyed.”

  Thist, still laughing, managed to mouth “Just once more please.”

  “No.” said Kelvin. “Let’s cross this river and get to that tavern.”

  “No wait.” said Jem. “I have an idea, can we eat kretchin fish.”

  Kelvin shook his head, “You can eat them but if you think salmon are hard to catch then…” his voice trailed off.

  “Wait.” said Jem. “I think that the way water bends light is throwing out your aim. Remember those forest fowl that you shot in mid-flight? You made that look easy.”

  Kelvin raised his brows. “I’m listening.”

  “Shoulder your pack, draw an arrow but sling the line in a loose coil around the tip of the arrow and aim over the surface of the water.” said Jem. “When the kretchin fish jump, shoot one out of the air.”

  Kelvin took his pack. He notched an arrow and drew tight. Jem took the line and slung it in a long loose coil around the tip of the arrow. “This will help with the balance; the line will shoot out with the arrow.”

  Kelvin tensed, arched his back and breathed deeply. Jem gripped the line and Thist hit the surface of the water with his staff. Several kretchin fish leapt from the surface of the water. Kelvin loosed his arrow at a big one and hit it in the eye. Jem pulled the fish in. “Wow” said Jem, “This is a big one.”

  Thist nodded his head in approval, “That looks delicious, we should get three.”

  “You just want to laugh at the fish jumping out of the water.” scolded Kelvin as he re-notched the arrow.

  “It never gets old.” said Thist.

  28

  Thist lunged.

  The last step to get to the top of the peak was an effort but a personal victory. The boys had adopted a simple system of travelling; setting short goals for the day and then striving for them. The system worked well to motivate and expedite the travellers from within. For the last couple of days of travel Thist had been the straggler and today he had set himself the goal to be the first to arrive at each checkpoint. He may only have beaten the other two by a few minutes but it usually meant the longest rest. Many times when he had arrived at resting place exhausted, his companions were rested and ready to move on.

  Thist took the extra time to gaze over the horizon and enjoy the scenery. He was happy to be out of the noisy forest where the chatter of small birds had made his ears ring. He marvelled at how life seemed to crowd around an abundant water source and how barren and devoid of life it was where the ground was dry. On the one side of every mountain it was always lush and the other side was often a desolate waste land.

  Kelvin was next to arrive at the top of the mountain; he dropped his pack as soon as he came to the place where Thist was standing. They were exhausted. The trek up the slight incline was long and boring. The rule was rest at the top never at the bottom. Resting at the bottom of a hill before a long climb was a sure way to break your stride and often you never recovered your pace.

  Kelvin arched his back with both hands on his hips, “Come on Jem!” he shouted.

  Jem was just a hundred paces away from the top. The mountain was not steep but the l
ast leg of their journey from the river had been an arduous climb. The best way was to set a rhythmic pace as perfect as a drum beat, left foot, right foot, left foot. Jem’s face was red, the front of his tunic was drenched and fatigue was evident in his eyes. But he knew that he couldn’t break the rhythm until he reached the checkpoint or else he might collapse in a heap and have no motivation to get up.

  “Come on buddy.” encouraged Thist. “You can do it.”

  Jem reached the summit. “Why are we doing this? I miss my mom.”

  Kelvin patted Jem on the back, “It’s okay, just some traveller’s remorse.”

  Jem looked up at Kelvin. “It’s also fatigue, hunger and thirst, and if we don’t find shelter soon it’s going to be wet and cold as well.” said Jem. “Can you believe this infernal weather? Is it me or is raining more than usual on this journey?”

  The other two turned their heads from where they had come to where they were going.

  Kelvin raised his one eyebrow and smirked at Jem. “It doesn’t look like it’s going to rain.”

  Jem shook his head, “It’s going to rain. It always rains.”

  “The sky is clear Jem. You’re being silly.” said Thist, “Let’s eat, drink, rest and then move down.”

  It was common for a person with traveller’s remorse to see all kinds of adversity and miss the beauty along the way.

  Kelvin and Thist gathered some wood. Jem was happy to be on fire start duty as this meant using his hands in a sitting position. The small bushes that grew near the mountain top were long-lived and had many dry twigs and the odd dead bole or root could be quickly scavenged.

  They had clean salted kretchin fish from the river many miles back which tasted heavenly if smoked after lying up in salt for half a day. The boys were ravenous and ready to lay waste to their food stocks but a light meal was advisable if they were going to travel a long journey still.

  “How is your arm?” asked Thist with a mouthful of smoked kretchin fish.

  “Not bad at all,” said Kelvin, “I thought it would be inflamed and festering by now.”

  He slowly un-wrapped the bandage; it had only been on for a little over a day.

  “Dude, we’re eating,” said Jem who was the most squeamish of the three “can we please do our wound care after our meals, not during?”

  Kelvin glanced at Jem and kept on un-wrapping his arm, the bandage came clean off without sticking and revealed four parallel scars, fresh and healed.

  The three stared at the scars. “Dude, that looks funky,” said Jem just as shocked as the other two.

  “It looks like a sexy battle scar.” said Thist.

  “It looks healed.” said Kelvin. “What was in the poultice that you mixed, some of your magic tea?”

  Thist nodded, “It was tea and hum.”

  “That tea is awesome stuff,” said Kelvin “you should use it sparingly, how much do you have left?”

  “Still most of it,” said Thist impressed with himself, “I use that tiny spoon that the old man gave me.”

  Kelvin looked down at his arm while rubbing his other hand over the scar, “That is amazing.”

  “Kelvin, the jaguar slayer.” said Thist in a deep theatrical voice.

  “Thist the magic teaspoon whisperer” said Kelvin with a sly grin.

  “And Jem, the person you are with the thing that you do…” said Thist with a playful grin.

  Jem lifted his hand with one finger raised at Thist, a common gesture that had many vulgar meanings. “It’s okay, I’ll find my niche.”

  The boys laughed and enjoyed a light meal and a rest together.

  Jem was lying on the ground, his head on a stone. “So Kelvin, what’s next on the journey?” he said.

  Kelvin looked out over the horizon. “I remember, wait…there is one valley and one hill left to cross before we come to another plateau that ends in a very deep river gorge with two unassailable cliffs between.”

  Jem sat up, “How do we cross then? Is this a fool’s journey?”

  Kelvin was quiet for a while, “The secret to overcoming the impossible, is to overcome the impossible.”

  Thist rolled his eyes skyward and shook his head. “Say you are joking please.”

  “I’m not joking.” said Kelvin, sounding serious. “There is a tavern on the edge of the cliff, on our side. It is a small traveller’s haven and there should be some people there.”

  Thist’s eyes lit up. “For real?”

  “Yes, for real.” said Kelvin.

  “Are there tavern wenches?” said Thist.

  “The tavern owner’s daughters” said Kelvin.

  Thist was on his feet, pack on his back and blazing a trail.

  Jem still felt that he was on a fool’s journey but going to the tavern was sounding like a great idea to him too. They headed down hill into what seemed like friendly forest.

  The weather turned foul mere moments after they entered the tree line. The driving rain to the side of their faces had turned from annoying to painful as the rain drops turned to hail. The ice stones were tiny but plentiful. Jem shielded his eyes with his one hand while carrying his broken pack with the other. The rain had soaked the boys through, making their clothes and packs twice as heavy. As they trudged through the forest muck, the gaps in the trees gave them a hail beating followed by scant relief under the thinning forest canopy. As the hail increased in size, the leaves and twigs were being smashed, causing a rain of filthy wet debris that was sticky from the tree sap.

  “We need shelter” shouted Kelvin. His voice had the elevated tone of panic but was barely audible above the storm. “Just look for anything we can crouch under.” His words were still in his mouth as lightning flashed just ahead of them.

  Jem came close to the others to make himself heard, “We can’t shelter under tall trees in this lightning.”

  The urgency of Jem’s words was emphasized by another bolt of lightning to a tree just behind them. The tree erupted in a blinding light as it threw flaming splinters of its trunk and branches in all directions.

  The trio knew that the lightning spell would pass over in a moment but they needed to take care of their safety right away. Without speaking the three knew what to do from what they had heard from the village elders. They moved apart from each other, so that they could still see each other but avoid endangering the others if one got struck by lightning. Then they crouched with their packs on their heads and waited.

  Thist was wet, cold, stiff and cramping. He cradled a cup of warm tea in his hands.

  The boys had found shelter in the bole of a dead tree. There was enough space for them to crouch around a fire. They had struggled for an hour to light a fire with all the wet wood but Jem and Kelvin had persisted.

  Thist hadn’t expected to sleep at all but as he started to sip his tea he felt his soul become heavy. He had been exhausted before but this was a new kind of tired; cold, wet and travel weary, his body was working just to stay alive. The other two were huddling by the fire just as cold. Kelvin was nursing a black eye thanks to a glancing blow from a large hail stone. Their arms hurt from shielding their heads from the hail. Thist had hardly finished his drink before he passed into the underworld of restless dreams.

  29

  He was in the forest, lost and alone. It was cold; a light breeze blew soft snowflakes into his face. He turned his face away just to catch the swirling wind and snow in the face again. It was twilight and Thist couldn’t tell if the sun was rising or setting. He was nervous, even scared, and stood transfixed in place. “Jem, Kelvin” he called feebly. His voice didn’t echo. The sound was lost in the deep of the forest. Thist closed his eyes. “Where am I?”

  “You’re in the forest of despair”

  Thist opened his eyes. He knew he was dreaming but he knew he had some control.

  He took a deep breath and scanned his surroundings. He willed the snow away and it stopped.

  The air was cold but clearer, “Where are you?” he asked.

 
“You know I’m in your mind, you have control of most things here”

  “Most things?” said Thist. “What don’t I have control over in here?”

  “You have no control over who you are and no control over who I am.”

  “Who are you?” asked Thist.

  “Come into the light”

  Thist scanned for a brighter place in his vision. It appeared as he thought about it.

  Right in front of him was an old hunchbacked man, sitting in the mud by a fire. He approached the old man cautiously.

  The old man looked up. His face was a hazy image, his features were there but Thist couldn’t make out a distinct face.

  Thist startled, “Why don’t you people show your faces?”

  “We can control what we look like in your dreams, because we project what we look like to you.”

  “So, why don’t you let me see what you look like?”

  “We cannot remember what we look like.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Ray”

  A cold wind swept over them. And Thist shuddered.

  “You know,” said Ray. “You can have this dream wherever you like, it doesn’t have to be here in this forsaken forest. Just take us to a place where you feel comfortable.”

  Thist smiled, a warm feeling came over his skin and his dream changed colours as he saw fit. A warm fire-lit cabin materialized around him, with soft cushions on the floor.

  “That is strange.” said Ray looking around.

  “What?” asked Thist.

  “You don’t need shelter or warmth in your dreams, you don’t even need food or drink or air, you can be a god in your dreams but you make basic need instead.”

  Thist looked around the hut that he created and chuckled. "I guess I’m still new at bending my own dreams. I wish I could bend things in real life."

  “You can.” said Ray.

  “How?” asked Thist.

  “For most people it’s a simple thing, they can change things about their own life, it just takes a little work. But most people cannot control their own dreams.”