by Zax Vagen
Thist was a little disappointed and willed the hair from her body. He encountered resistance and the hair kept her body covered.
“Wow.” said Thist as he gazed at her beauty, “What is your name?”
“I am Nea-aylah. This is a dream Thist.” said Nea-aylah, as gorgeous as the song of the river.
“I know.” said Thist.
“But I am real” said Nea-aylah, “Please respect me as if I was living.”
“Do you still feel?” asked Thist “Are you still sensitive to the ill whims of people?”
“We have emotions; fear mostly, remorse and sorrow too.”
Nea-aylah’s figure was flawless but her face was obscured like frosted glass. Thist remembered that a previous lost soul had told him that they could not remember their own faces.
“How long has it been for your people in the soul stones?” asked Thist
“I know not how long.” said Nea-aylah.
“What can you tell me of your people?” asked Thist.
“We were a beautiful tribe, our women were attractive and our men were kind, gentle and wise.”
“Were the men not attractive?”
Nea-aylah looked down and giggled bashfully. “Yes they were. You are handsome too.” said Nea-aylah.
Thist looked deep into Nea-aylah’s face, he thought he saw a shy smile but was unsure.
“Will I ever see what your faces look like?” asked Thist.
“It will likely corrupt you if you do.” said Nea-aylah.
“And if it does not?” asked Thist.
Nea-aylah looked down and then back up to Thist. “Beware what you wish for. We were banished from the world by the cruel and jealous druid and his reasons were unreasonable and his judgment was corrupted.”
“What was his downfall?” asked Thist.
“He fell in love with us.” said Nea-aylah. “And then he tried to rule us but we were a free spirited people. He tried to domesticate and sophisticate us but we were not meant for that life. Some of our village folk asked him to leave and never return. They cast a spell to ward him off from the village and he lost his mind. He wanted to destroy the village and kill everyone in it but his love for us was unique and he could not. His love turned to anguish and in our absence it turned into madness. We were locked in soul stones and cast into water where our voices became dull.”
“That is incredible.” said Thist. “Tell me what I can do to help your people to find the light of life again.”
“I know the answer to this but I cannot tell you, we are bound by the spell, but if you find that a stone loses its lustre then the soul has been freed from it, that is all I can say.”
“One of the stones has lost its shine, is that soul freed?”
“Yes,” said Nea-aylah, “but free from the stone can also mean ‘dead.’”
Thist’s skin crawled, “How does that happen?”
Nea-aylah looked down again. “When one loses the last shred of hope.” she sobbed.
“So does every soul die when the stone turns dull?”
“No.” said Nea-aylah abruptly. “The one that went dull in your little pouch has been freed.”
“How,” asked Thist, “How did I do it?”
Nea-aylah backed away, “I cannot tell you, I am bound by the spell. I must go and you must wake.”
“No wait!” protested Thist.
Nea-aylah started to fade into the water. “Just know this Thist, you and your friends will try to cross this gorge tomorrow and if by accident you should lose us in this river then we will be gone forever and we will never return.”
Nea-aylah’s figure shimmered into the water and was just about to fade when she burst from the river and grabbed Thist by the shoulders and shook him. “Wake up Thist.”
Thist bolted upright in his bed. He was fully awake. The sun shone through the dirty window, burning his face.
He was disorientated and could not remember where he was or how he got there. The bed was filthy, there was dust everywhere, his body was covered in dust and he sneezed. He walked to the door, put his hand on the door knob and started to turn it. The floor boards creaked under his feet. He paused. Then he remembered, in the tavern by the gorge. The raging river in the gorge was loud, and he wondered how long he had slept. He gauged the sun was just rising now and they had arrived well after sunrise so he had slept the whole day and the whole night.
His stomach grumbled. He shivered from the cold and he rubbed his arms to warm them. He took the clothes from the coat and hat stand and was dressed in an instant. Then he picked up the coat and hat stand and readied for a death blow. He flung the door open and startled all the carrion birds that had returned to roost for the night. The squawks and clatters and flapping were so loud and so frightening that he slammed the door and stood with his back to the closed door. He sneezed again from all the dust that had been lofted by the hurricane of wing flaps in the passage.
Thist listened. He heard Jem curse, then he heard Kelvin curse. He opened his door and looked into the passage.
Jem stood at the door to his room, eyes wide, and Kelvin stood by the door of his room with a drawn bow.
“Everything alright?” asked Thist.
Kelvin drew his bow tight and loosed an arrow out of the far window sending it whistling down the passage.
Then he laughed loudly. “I’ve never slept that well in my life before.”
Jem nodded. “Fatigue is the best mattress.”
Thist nodded back at Jem, “Then I guess hunger is the best cook, because…” he pointed at his stomach. “…damn.”
Kelvin nodded, “It’s early morning, yet I feel fresh and rested. Let’s get our morning chores sorted and then we can get out of here, this place gives me the creeps.”
Thist got the wood burning stove working while Jem rummaged through the pantry.
There were a lot of stale supplies there; rotten flour full of weevil husks, a pile of dead potato plants, with shrivelled leaves and stalks. The remnants of fruit which rotted and caused their own seed to germinate only to let the plants die of thirst on the dusty floor.
There were dried fruit preserves which looked fine and some jars of honey, jam and one large jar of hum. There was a barrel of ale that looked like it could be just perfect for a warm night and a group of village friends.
Kelvin went hunting. He didn’t think he could get anything of great use as carrion birds were diseased and eating them was forbidden for health reasons.
Jem stubbed his toe on a loose floor board causing it to bleed from the nail. He swore and held his injured toe as if trying to press away the pain. He looked at the floorboard willing it to answer for its transgression. To his astonishment he saw that it was the lifted corner on a trapdoor, possibly to a cellar. His mind raced as he thought what treasures there could be down there in this abandoned building. He decided to keep it to himself until after they had eaten and had gathered their strength.
Thist had found some spices and other liquid treasures in the bar, some sealed bottles and some unsealed. It wasn’t obvious if the tavern was attacked by something or someone but it was never raided or ransacked. Everything was in order except for the dead bartender whose body they had removed to the outside as it was too disturbing for Thist to try to cook or even think where there was a skeleton.
Kelvin came in by the broken door with a smile. He had two fat fowls and a hare in his hand. “Meaty breakfast boys, this place is rich with small game, we could live well here if we just had some regular customers.”
Thist prepared a hearty broth for the trio while Jem poured over his castle blueprints. Each boy had a jug of ale from the cask which turned out to be mature and refreshing. Kelvin had found some carpentry tools in a back room and had set up a fletching production line over three tavern tables. He was making arrows quickly and with great precision. The task consumed his focus so that it seemed only moments before Thist announced the meal to be ready.
Jem had agonized over the four large
scrolls of plans with little success until it dawned on him that the drawings were in a code. Each page had to be folded to make triangle shapes and each triangular folded page was a piece in a four piece puzzle. Once he had put it together and studied the complete puzzle for some time, the shape of the castle became clear. The code in the folds of the scrolls was intricate. Changing the faces of the triangles revealed different aspects of the castle. One orientation was for the whole macro size, another was for the main assembly hall the other seemed to be the letter of instruction to the stone masters. Jem was intrigued.
The meal had been exceptional and Jem and Kelvin thanked Thist for his effort.
“You guys are being soppy.” said Thist. “It was a team effort.”
Jem lazed back in his chair, “Indeed it was. Now, what is the game plan from here on Kelvin?”
Kelvin placed his ale jug down on the table and blew out a long breath. “We have a problem. The rope bridge is damaged beyond repair and there is no crossing the river without it.”
A light flashed across Jem’s vision as his relaxed, jovial mood changed to angry denial. “You have led us far from home on a wild goose chase only to despair.”
Kelvin became defensive. “This journey was your idea Jem, I followed your whim and you know it.”
Jem gulped his ale. “Let’s go and look at this rope bridge.”
Thist was quiet. He was still reminiscing over the dream he had had of Nea-aylah and the river, he knew that they would cross the river.
Kelvin grabbed his ale jug and gulped the last of it. “Drink up Thist, let’s go and look at this rope bridge.” He said.
Jem was the first to leave the tavern. He stormed along the path that wended its way just a few hundred yards to the bridge. The path was a maze, winding between wind sculpted rock statues and overgrown by small shrubs. Kelvin was confident that there were no large predators here but had his bow ready as a growing habit.
Thist exited the tavern and gave a loud burp.
Jem shook his head in anger at Thist’s insolence and stormed on. He stood at the edge of the cliff where the long expanse rope bridge should have been. “This is bad.” said Jem.
Thist came up to where Jem stood and gave a long whistle. “That is going to be a problem.”
Kelvin kept his distance from the edge of the cliff. “Do you think we can fix it?”
“Now I know what happened to the barmaid.” said Jem. “She drank herself to death after the bridge failed.”
“Why didn’t they fix it?” asked Kelvin.
Jem shook his head, “This was probably a massive undertaking the first time, but the maintenance on the bridge would have been simple once it was in place. Getting the first ropes across is the biggest challenge. Then it takes a brave soul to cross a bridge that is made of only one rope.”
“If we had the ropes then we could make the bridge over, at least in part, so that we could cross.” said Kelvin.
Thist stood with his arms folded looking down at the drop to oblivion. “Kelvin, you are insane.” said Thist.
“No.” said Kelvin. “We have come this far, we should at least see what ideas we can come up with.”
Jem shook his head as he looked at down into the canyon. The cliffs were very wide apart and the depth was both awe and terror inspiring. “Kelvin, you are in denial of the truth that faces us here.” said Jem.
Kelvin looked at the gorge. The raging river could be heard clearly and even a light spray of water made it up the sides with a cool draft. He looked to the far end and cleared his mind of the distraction of the dizzying height. In the distance he could see two stone pillars very close together and from them hung the broken remnants of the old rope bridge.
“So close” he whispered. The noise of the raging river was too great for the other two to hear what he mumbled to himself. He studied the edge of the far cliff and then looked beyond to where he wanted to be.
“Jem! Thist!” said Kelvin. “Look over the horizon of the far cliff, what can you make out there?”
Jem had been distracted by the dangers right in front of him and the disappointment of imminent failure that he did not notice the commotion on the far side.
“There seems to be a camp, with at least three plumes of camp fire smoke not right on the edge of the cliff but beyond.” said Jem.
“There are people there.” said Thist.
“They want to come here and we want to go there.” said Jem. He sat down on a ledge on the stone pillar and put his chin on his hand and caressed his lips, a sure sign that he was thinking. “There is a cellar in the tavern, that we didn’t explore yet, did you see anything out back Kelvin?”
Kelvin nodded, “It seems that there is a workshop of sorts, nice tools, very dusty, and there are some old tarps, could be something interesting under them.”
“There is a wagon on the side where I went to get firewood.” said Thist “Looks derelict but we might find some stuff, you know?”
“Change of plans.” announced Jem. “Let’s see what we can find in the old tavern and see if we can build a new bridge.”
Kelvin nodded his approval to Jem’s attitude. “Why the change of heart?”
Jem looked at Kelvin, “It is simple, we have come this far, we are here now, if we turn back now then we have failed. At least we can have an adventure with what we have. Try to build a bridge in the meantime and we might still succeed. Either way, we have to try to move forward despite impossible odds. Failure may court us, but it’s not failure until we give in to it.”
Thist nodded. “I agree with that.”
Kelvin drank in Jem’s words. “How can we fail? Let’s go and check out the wagon with fresh eyes. You coming?”
Jem and Kelvin followed Thist around the side of the tavern to where the old wagon was. It was a strange looking wagon with five wheels, and a lot of dusty planks loaded in the centre load bed. The planks looked all shapes and sizes but were strangely packed together in a neat configuration; some were tied and some were bolted together. As soon as Kelvin tried to move one he found it snagged to another. Thist and Jem tried to help Kelvin move the heavy beams off the load bed for a frustrating minute before Jem noticed what was going on. “They are all connected. And these large long ones seem to be bolted to the load bed.”
The three boys brushed some more of the dust off and noticed that it was a contraption of unknown origin.
“This isn’t a wagon.” said Kelvin “It’s a construction crane.”
Jem shot an inquisitive stare at Kelvin. “A construction crane?”
“Whoever built this was crazy.” said Thist. “You need a crane to hoist it.”
“Or a horse and capstan.” said Jem.
“How are you going to look after horses here?” asked Thist.
“Let’s leave this for now and go and see the workshop.” suggested Jem.
Kelvin led the way around to the far end of the building; they found an old orchard of num-num berries. It wasn’t a big orchard, just four rows wide and six deep. The berry shrubs were planted in neat rows and the wet mountain air had done them well for their health. The bright red berries hung thick and heavy on the branches. The sweet white milk from the skin would normally ward off the ignorant but they were good to eat. The boys made a quick detour to the plantation and gorged themselves on num-num berries.
“They aren’t called num-num for nothing.” said Jem.
Thist scoffed several at once, the juice soaking his face with its stickiness and turning it stark white. Jem looked Thist and said. “You are white.”
Thist ignored Jem’s comment saying. “They should be called ‘Nom Nom’ berries! I wonder why, of all things, they would plant this here?”
“Wine.” said Kelvin.
“Yes.” said Jem. “This is what royal berry wine is made of. Do you remember back at the village we used to get a bottle every summer and everyone had a quarter of a cap full?”
“I do.” said Thist. “We went crazy for it and then o
ne day it was announced that it had become unavailable. I think it was made at this tavern.”
Jem looked at Kelvin for a second and spat out a mouthful of berry pulp and tried to speak but his tongue stuck to his palate. After an effort to speak a few times he could only laugh. Kelvin and to Thist laughed openly at Jem’s awkwardness as it was comical and spectacular.
Thist tried to pass fair comment on what was transpiring but the same fate befell him and the trio laughed even more.
Kelvin had no trouble speaking as he had only had one handful. “Too much of these berries will put you guys in a sticky situation.” he said.
The boys laughed heartily.
“What I was going to say.” started Jem as he cleared his throat. “I am now very curious to scout the cellar, I’m sure there is berry wine in there. But first the workshop. Lead the way Kelvin.”
A slight fog hung over the area. It was like a magical aura of power, an effect created by the raging river that thundered in the distance.
Kelvin pulled Jem’s sleeve to steer him in the right direction “Pay attention, the thorns on these bushes are a menace.”
It took only a minute to get to the workshop, an equally derelict building that had been sturdy in its hay-day but on which its twilight sun had set.
The door had fallen off a long time ago and was missing. The inside was dusty and ivy had crept over everything twice and then died. The tools were rusty and blunt and the tarps had fish moth holes poked into every part of it.
Kelvin pulled on a tarp which ripped and sent a cloud of black dust into everyone’s faces. Thist’s face was mostly covered in num-num berry sap which instantly turned black as the dust clung to it.
“You are black.” said Jem.
Thist said nothing as he stared back at Jem while shaking his head. Kelvin waved the dust cloud to try and dissipate it. “Look here fellow adventurers; this is the jackpot if ever I saw one.”
“Num-num berry wine!” exclaimed Thist.
“No you idiot.” said Kelvin. “It is a massive pile of oiled bridge rope.”
Thist rolled his eyes, the whites contrasting to the blackness of his face.