by Zax Vagen
Jem startled at the sound of the whip, his foot slipping a little. He was drunk himself, arms flailing to his side and back. A boom of laughter erupted from the crowd. Jem pitched forward and then far back as he tried to steady himself. He shuffled his feet forward on the rope and flailed his arms. He was now clear of any safety and would surely plunge to his death if he lost his footing.
The bar tender came out to see what was going on. Jem glimpsed the look in his eye; it was shock, horror, disbelief but overall it was desperation. There was nothing that he could do. The crowd was large, strong, drunk, unruly, and disobedient. And there were no lawman nearby. The barman went back inside. The jeers continued and Jem shuffled farther out onto the rope.
Kelvin puffed his cigar, shuffled the cards and dealt. He had amassed a wealth in front of him and was determined to win the last cent from his gambling opponents. He had never smoked before. It tasted terrible, gave him a headache and made his cloths stink, but in the situation it made him look astute and formidable. The cigar also gave him something to fidget with while he gambled, hiding his ‘tell’. He sat in the high-back chair like a king with a mass of coins, rings and ‘I-owe-you’ notes in front of him. He had a glass of wine in his left hand which he swirled as he considered his own hand. The bartender came in from outside and addressed Kelvin. “Your friend is walking the rope like a madman. He is going to kill himself. I think you should go and help him.”
“No!” said Kelvin without looking up. “My friend doesn’t need my help to kill himself. He is perfectly capable of succeeding at that on his own.”
The bartender shook his head and gritted his teeth.
Thist floated on a cloud. He had become more accustomed to controlling his dreams. With the effect of the tea it was only for him to think where he wanted to be before he fell asleep and his dream would come to him. He didn’t want to interact with anyone in his dreams. He just wanted rest. While he was resting some dreams would cause him distress and when he woke up he would feel exhausted.
His legs were crossed and his arms folded behind his head like a pillow. He chewed on the end of a long stalk of grass and pondered the world around him. A figure appeared next to him. He looked at her. She was slender and young but her face was hazy and he couldn’t make out the features to see what she looked like. She wore a white dress, clean and bright. She put her hand on his chest and rubbed gently. “Just sleep.” she said to him. He could see her hands. The skin was bright and pure like silk.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Skylah, don’t you remember?”
“I cannot see your faces; they are obscured.”
Skylah looked down and away for a moment, “We cannot remember what we look like.” said Skylah as she rubbed Thist’s chest. “Just sleep.”
“I am sleeping, that is why I am dreaming.”
“If you dream that you are sleeping then you will have the most peaceful sleep”
“Do I then have to wake in my dreams before I can wake up from sleeping?”
“Shhhh.”
Thist closed his eyes and rolled his head to one side, a contented smile on his face.
The cloud that he lay on dissipated from the softest substance he had ever lain on to cold water droplets. He tried to ignore the wet and told himself to love it.
The cloud condensed into more and more water puddles until the puddles joined together and flowed into each other. He looked at his imaginary cloud mattress and willed it back to dry and comfortable, but the wetness grew and the cold overtook his body.
He looked to where Skylah had been sitting but she was gone, and suddenly he was under water. He didn’t know which way was up. He gasped for breath and choked on a mouthful of water.
“I’m dreaming.” he shouted.
“Then wake up” came a stern voice, it was garbled from being under water.
“Skylah!” shouted Thist.
“Wake up, wake up you dumb ass.” said the voice again.
“Kelvin? Kelvin is that you?” sputtered Thist. “Come into the light.”
“Open your eyes Thist!!” shouted Kelvin.
Thist opened his eyes to find himself lying on a water soaked bed in a dusty room. He was dumbstruck and had no idea where he was. Water streamed down his face as it flowed from his wet hair. Kelvin and Jem stood by his bed, each holding an empty water bucket.
Kelvin held up his bucket for Thist to examine. “This was the second load of water, it took four bucketfuls to wake you. Where were you in your dreams?”
Jem shook a finger in the air to accentuate his point. “Wherever you go when you are sleeping, I want to go there some day.”
Thist was still disorientated, “I was dreaming that I was sleeping peacefully. Why did you wake me?”
Kelvin dropped his bucket. “The sun is high, time to make hay.”
Thist sloshed out of his bed. He was a little stiff from lying in one position. He staggered down stairs in his wet clothes. The sun shone through the front windows casting long morning shadows in the lobby. Hot beer bread waited on the table outside. Jem had made some from scraps he found in the pantry. It was good with olive oil and num-num berry jam.
Thist was ravenous and dug into the bread. Kelvin and Jem were considering the new happenings that morning. Across the canyon on the other side, a group of strangers had gathered by the edge of the cliff. It looked as if some of them were trying to signal them by waving a cloth.
“Whatever could they be meaning by that signal?” asked Thist.
“I don’t know.” said Jem. “A welcoming committee is the last thing that I was expecting.”
Kelvin finished chewing on a piece of beer bread. “We have a problem. We have to sling a large grapple over to that side with a bridge rope attached to it and the landing area is covered with people.”
“We have to send them a message.” said Jem “I can sketch some clear-meaning instructions for them in pictures. Can you send it across on an arrow?”
Kelvin nodded, “Can you make me one of those extra special arrows Thist?”
“Sure thing.” said Thist with an overfull mouth as he choked down his bread. “Just give me five minutes.”
Thist returned with one arrow sooner than Jem could finish his note, his eyes were bloodshot. “I can only make one, so make it count.”
“Is it the same as the last one” asked Kelvin.
“No, this one has extra special power.”
“Pray tell?” asked Kelvin.
“It can only be fired through a bow by you.” said Thist, “Anyone else who holds it to a bow will get burned.”
Kelvin looked perturbed, “Why did you do that?”
“I just thought that giving ammunition to the enemy is bad enough.” explained Thist. “We shouldn’t give them free super weapons, don’t you think?”
Kelvin considered the idea and nodded, “Jem, are you ready?” he shouted.
Jem sauntered up with a note in his hand, “Have a look at this.”
Kelvin studied the instruction. “Not bad, if they can’t understand that then they are stupid.” He wrapped the note around the back of the arrow and tied it with some thin twine.
Jem watched Kelvin as he drew his bow, paying no attention to where the arrow was going to go. Kelvin was frozen in an archer’s stance and inhaled deeply. He concentrated on the pillar on the far side of the canyon. As he exhaled, his eyes narrowed and his focus became acute. He loosed. The arrow sliced the air, making the note flutter in the wind that rushed over it. The arrow arced high and then tipped down in mid-flight and screamed at its target. The arrow hit its mark so accurately that it sliced the flight off the back of the last arrow that Kelvin had fired the night before.
The trio watched the commotion on the far side of the canyon. Most of the people had thought that they were being fired upon by enemies. None of them had ever seen an arrow travel so far or emit a blue light as it flew. For a long while no one seemed to retrieve the note in the arrow.
/> “What is wrong with these people?” asked Thist.
Kelvin shouldered his bow. “I don’t think that they know there is a note on the arrow. I hope they find it soon.”
Kelvin, Thist and Jem gathered around the table with bread, olive oil, and jam and watched as the crowd moved. The thundering noise from the raging river drowned out any sound that the crowd could possibly make. The distance was too great to make out any distinguishing characteristics; they all just looked like clothed figures.
After a long wait, a figure clothed in a black robe approached the pillar and tugged on the arrow. Then he removed the note from the arrow and moved away leaving the arrow stuck in the pillar.
“What does the note say.” asked Thist.
“It’s just pictures.” said Jem, “The first is the edge of the cliff with a crowd on it. The second picture is without the crowd. The third picture is a flying bridge going across the canyon. And the forth is of happy faces together.”
“That is nice.” said Thist, “Oh look, the crowd is moving away. I’m going to prepare the shot for you. Just give me ten minutes.”
“Five minutes,” said Kelvin, “You can do it in five.”
“No.” shouted Thist. “I’m doing the rope as well.”
Jem nodded, “Good man.”
Kelvin and Jem sat on the veranda chairs. Jem was intrigued by Thist’s new found skill. “What do you think of Thist’s new skill as a…what do you call it? ...mage?” asked Jem.
“He was always such a lost boy.” said Kelvin “He didn’t know what he wanted to do, and didn’t know where he wanted to be.”
“Aren’t we all like that at some point in our lives?” asked Jem.
“Do you remember how lost he was in the caddels?”
“Yes,” said Jem. “Did you ever think that you would become that good with the bow?”
“No.” said Kelvin, “I think it is in the bow. It is magic, and with the arrows that Thist imbues, I feel like I am cheating, and I think that the bow is becoming better than me. Odd thought I guess.”
“I can improve your bow as well.” said Jem.
Kelvin rocked back in his wicker chair, his right foot was raised and he bounced his leg as he scrutinized Jem. “How are you going to improve the most awesome bow that has ever been wrought?”
“I was thinking about the way you shoot your bow and I noticed that you only have one arrow loaded at any time. What I am thinking is to make a bow that you can reload faster than you can move your hand.” Jem grinned, he knew exactly what was going on inside his own head and he knew that no one else had the slightest clue what his next contraption would look like.
Kelvin watched the odd commotion on the far side of the canyon as he considered the implications of a rapid fire war bow. The far side of the canyon was almost clear of people and all they needed to do now was wind up the trebuchet and wait for Thist to finish what he was conjuring.
Thist was on his knees in the dirt. His hands trembled as he chanted. He stroked the old iron grapple that was chosen for the final shot. Thist covered the grapple in a layer of tea that he had brewed, his eyes shut. He finished the chant and opened his eyes and a white glow shone from them. He closed off with a long quiet blow as if he was trying to cool down a plate of hot stew.
Thist wiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm and stayed on his knees while he tried to catch his breath. He was exhausted and a little dizzy. “This is going to be a good one.” He reached for the remainder of the tea and drank it all. He stood up slowly pushing his hand against his knee to help himself up. He staggered forward two steps and fell forward onto his face.
Thist blew water out of his mouth. He was sitting on the edge of a small pool. The cold waterfall plunging right next to him was so close that his hair and face were getting soaked. His clothes were wet and his legs were still dangling in the water. He scanned the surroundings; it was the same waterfall where they had first found the diamonds. He felt for his pack where he had stashed the pouch full of diamonds, they were nowhere. He was anxious, as he looked around for Jem and Kelvin. Then he remembered. “Kelvin was never there from the start.”
“It’s okay,” said a voice.
Thist looked around, there was an old man sitting on a rock. His long grey hair was very thin, white and draped long over his cheeks. He held a staff in both of his hands and it seemed that he was leaning on it heavily.
Thist looked at him for a while, dazed and confused. Then he noticed the figure’s face was obscured. “Why am I dreaming” asked Thist
“You must be asleep.” said the old man.
“Why am I asleep? I’m supposed to be helping my friends.”
“Maybe you were tired.” said the old man.
“No, I was well rested,” said Thist.
“No.” said the old man. “You cannot truly sleep if you are not tired, and you cannot truly dream if you are not asleep. You are dreaming so you must be tired.”
“That sounds very clever.” said Thist “who are you?”
“I am the wise man. I can tell that something is amiss with you and that I have been summoned by your soul to guide you.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” said Thist as he wondered what could be amiss within himself.
“Oh, it is part of yourself that you have become so used to that you no longer question it.”
The wise man spoke in riddles but Thist tried to make sense of it.
“There is one thing that has ailed me for many years.” said Thist.
The wise man said nothing as Thist struggled to verbalize his feelings.
“I see recurring visions.” said Thist.
“Of what?” asked the wise man.
“Of things that go on around me, they seem connected.”
“Give me an example, will you?”
“I see the same number in things several times over in one day,” continued Thist. “Then I hear the same word several times on another day. Then on another day I might meet several people of the same name. Why, what is that?”
“Those are the omens that guide you, you should be wary of them.” said the wise man. “As long as you see these odd reoccurrences then you will know. The omens are with you.”
“But they seem to have no meaning and yet they persist. It has become a bad joke to me. What is happening? What is the meaning of these omens?”
“The omens are guiding you to a place,” continued the wise man. “Go where they take you.”
“They don’t seem to be taking me anywhere. They just seem to be there, at every corner and at every turn.”
“You misunderstand what an omen is,” explained the wise man. “It does not appear of its own will. It is something ordinary that was always there to start with. An omen is the manifestation of your own interpretation of what an ordinary thing means to you.”
Thist seemed disorientated, tired, slow and confused. He rubbed his face with his hands. He tried to control the dream and make himself not tired, but he couldn’t.
“Why am I dreaming and sleeping? I was…” Thist’s voice trailed off, he couldn’t remember what he was doing before he fell asleep.
The wise man stood up and started to walk across the water, shuffling with his hands on the staff in front of him. “I was like you when I was young.”
Thist looked at the wise man; he squinted in the sunlight that was penetrating the clouds behind the wise man’s head. “In what way were you like me?”
“Full of fire, your soul is like a thousand suns.”
“How is it different from the souls of others?” asked Thist.
“Not at all different, everyone’s soul is like a thousand suns, but the omens guide the fortunate few. If you are seeing them and you question them, then they will lead you on like a teasing lure.”
The wise old man shuffled over to the centre of the pool in front of the waterfall and started to stir the water with his staff; the water obeyed the movement of the staff rather than be stirred by it.
“What are you doing.” asked Thist.
Suddenly all the water leapt up and hit Thist in the face knocking him over.
Thist opened his eyes. He was covered in mud and was soaked to bone. Jem and Kelvin were trying to help him to his feet but he seemed to be fighting with something.
“Just relax buddy,” said Jem, “it’s just me and Kelvin.”
Thist looked around. He was confused, delirious and weak. His eyes were bloodshot and he mumbled incoherently.
Kelvin and Jem braced him on their arms and carried him a few yards to the tavern veranda and plopped him into a tattered armchair. His head lolled to one side and he let out a long groan.
Kelvin wiped his hands and brushed off the mud from his arms. He looked displeased with the whole situation. “We have to get this dumb ass over the raging river canyon on a rope bridge that is made entirely out of one or two pieces of rope.”
Jem looked at Thist in his disabled state. “He just faints. I wonder if he is ill or what.”
Jem cradled Thist’s face in one hand as he raised his head to a more comfortable position. Thist opened his eyes for a moment.
“Kelvin,” called Jem, “Do you remember the other times that Thist did some mage-like upgrades to your arrows?”
“Yes,” said Kelvin.
“Did you notice how tired he was and how red his eyes were?” said Jem.
“Yes,” said Kelvin. “I noticed that, and that it’s worse this time.”
Jem watched Thist as he started to snore, “I just think that he overdid it.”
“And there is something about that tea.” said Kelvin “I had the weirdest dream last night. I dreamed we were here in this wretched tavern in its heyday and you were drunk and trying to cross the bridge by tightrope walking and I was gambling.”
Jem looked perplexed as he saddled his mouth onto one cupped hand. He listened to the story as Kelvin told it verbatim to how he remembered his own dream. Then he interrupted Kelvin. “…and the tavern keep was exacerbated and helpless as he tried to help and serve everyone but nobody listened or intervened.”