by Zax Vagen
The apparition darted left and right close to his face “No.” An element of surprise was present in the voice. “The stone will shine on its own if there is a soul in it no matter what, if the stone no longer shines then it is empty, the soul has moved out.”
The apparition moved away, Thist called after it, “Wait, how does a soul leave the stone?”
“No more questions.” said the apparition as it floated away.
Thist felt a jab in his side, he shifted to get more comfortable and the jab became a sharp stab. Thist woke up with pain shooting into his side. He opened his eyes and moved his hand to his where he felt the sharpness and discovered the knife that was on the lanyard, it was there all along. He grabbed the knife and started cutting the rope harness and freed himself.
“What a day.”
Thist freed himself from the rope harness and climbed up the last bit of sloped rocky cliff-top. His whole body was still exhausted from the crawl across the rope and he was shaky, weak and still clumsy from slumber. Thist banged his right knee on a sharp rock just hard enough to wake him up completely.
Thist swore and rubbed his knee with his right hand while clinging to the outcrop with his left. The ground was moist from the ever present mist.
He reached the old pillar where the grapple had snagged, sat down on a rocky outcrop and observed the sunrise. The sun lit the edge of the horizon with a shimmering strip of bright yellow, gaining purchase in the sky and lighting the world. He absently rubbed his banged up knee and nodded at the sunrise. “A new life starts today, I promise.”
Thist’s words were not yet cold when he heard the familiar chirp of a lorikeet.
He turned his head to the right and saw the lorikeet execute a soft landing on his right shoulder. “This is going to be a good day.” He smiled at the lorikeet. “Hello chirpy. You either escaped, or someone set you free.”
Thist was so elated to see his favourite lorikeet that his heart raced with too many emotions at once to process any at all. He was grateful for the company as he would be alone on this side of the raging river, at least for a while.
“Let’s do our chores shall we.” said Thist settling into a conversation with his bird.
The lorikeet chirped back every time Thist spoke, giving him a sense that someone was listening. He had raised the lorikeet by hand from a hatchling and was surprised how attached the bird had become to him and he to it.
He followed the rope bridge to where it was anchored with the grapple between the wedges in the rock. As he approached he saw that the grapple had split its eye open. Only the knot was snagged, just a slight vibration in the rope would have been enough to unsettle it causing him to plummet to the bottom of the raging river. A chill ran down Thist’s spine. “Now I understand why the guys drew straws for going first.”
“Chirp!”
“Let’s tie this off properly and the second one that I brought.” said Thist.
“Chirp!”
Thist laboured to put tension on the rope. It was a heavy burden that pulled itself under its own weight across the canyon. The second rope was slung onto the first making it heavier. The instruction from Jem was to tie them securely on this side at least three yards apart. The two ropes, spaced a short distance apart with ties in between, would make for a more stable crossing and start the foundation for the new rope bridge.
“How is everyone back at town?” asked Thist.
“Chirp!”
Thist sat down on a flat outcrop and stared across to the far side. “The other two are probably still sleeping.”
“Chirp!”
How is Tayah? Did she look after you well?”
“Chirp!”
“How did she feel after we left?”
“Cheap!”
Thist looked up at the far horizon, a deep longing for home gripped his heart and he missed Tayah now more than ever. “I didn’t know it before but I guess now I do. Only when you are away and alone do you figure out who you truly love.”
“Chirp!”
“You showing up didn’t help.”
“Chirp!”
Thist sighed, “Your advice is utterly poor.”
“Chirp!”
Thist looked at the lorikeet and listened inwardly. He could hear the faint chatter of voices like a crowd in the distance, they had become like white noise. It sounded like the flow of a stream or the wind in the trees, something had settled them. “I wonder what caused a soul stone to go dull. How can the soul leave, what causes that?”
The lorikeet darted up to a higher rock and sang a cheerful morning song at the sunrise. Thist listened and drank in the beautiful sound, and took a moment to enjoy the beauty around him; the mist over the canyon, the red and orange of the sunrise, the landscapes of forest, the jagged mountains and valleys rising and falling in the distance.
The smell of early morning was punctuated by the smell of oiled rope, wet clothes and a waft of camp fires.
Thist, now curious about the smell of fire, climbed a little higher to see over the outcrops and jutting rocks. Just a few hundred yards away was a makeshift village of tents and bevy shacks. The people in the shack village were just stirring. Some breakfast fires were being stoked out of the smouldering campfires and a couple of women were carrying water. He didn’t know if the group was friendly or not so he ducked his head behind a rock and headed back to the rope bridge.
He looked over to the far side and could barely see Jem standing on the edge peering back at him. He stood up and made large waving arm signals. He watched as Jem signalled to Kelvin and pointed back at him. If Jem was trying to tell him something then the message was lost in translation. “Oh well, I hope they hurry up.” said Thist as he scratched his chafe wounds.
42
Jem and Kelvin had watched Thist’s painful attempt at crossing the canyon the day before and had decide to do things differently. They would attempt the crossing both at the same time. That way they could help each other if the harnesses or trailers got snagged. The other problem that they had was how to get harnessed in if you were the last guy, and staying two more days in the haunted tavern could drive the last guy mad.
Jem had devised a cunning plan to take a resting platform along. It was just a small wooden deck supported by ropes and slung from the incomplete rope bridge.
Kelvin was helping Jem load the rope bridge with all their equipment. The bridge wasn’t much of a bridge yet, just two very long thick ropes strung across the canyon and pulled tight.
“At least it would be a little stable.” said Jem.
“Compared to what?” asked Kelvin.
“Compared to what Thist had to do.” said Jem as he shook his head and bore his teeth in a gritting gesture. “I’m glad I didn’t get the short straw.”
“I wonder how he is doing.” said Kelvin. “I think the harness chafed him hard.”
“Well, he made it alright.” said Jem. “I’m just dreading my turn.”
“The three of us both.” said Kelvin.
“You mean the two of us both.” said Jem. “Thist has already crossed.”
Kelvin shot Jem a frown. “You know what I mean!”
Jem whistled a monotonous tune to try and distract himself from the coming task of crossing. He and Kelvin knew that they had to start as soon as possible to make the best of all the daylight.
Jem tied Kelvin into the harness and showed him the two ropes that he had fashioned to tie off for safety. “Always keep one tied no matter what, we may have to climb over each other from time to time, or help each other tow the load.”
“Plus,” said Kelvin, “we are going to have to rest every so often on your mobile deck.”
Jem nodded at his contraption. “I call it the under slung canyon bridge ferry, it’s going to be popular one day.”
Kelvin scrutinized the assembly of planks and ropes and shook his head. “No it’s not.”
Jem drew a deep breath for courage. “Let’s get to it, we’re burning daylight.”
r /> The two boys were fully kitted and attached for safety. They crawled onto the rope bridge, hanging from the harnesses, pushing and pulling themselves and their cargo along. At first they were a little clumsy until they had worked out a rhythm. They tried to keep their minds occupied during the mundane task of moving forward at a snail’s pace.
“Any boring task is easier if you have good company.” said Kelvin
“Then I feel sorry for Thist during his crossing,” winced Jem. “He was alone.”
“No.” Kelvin chuckled as he heaved himself forward. “He had his voices.”
“Did you see how sick he got near the middle?” said Jem.
“Shut up Jem,” scolded Kelvin “you’re making me queasy…but keep talking, I need the distraction.”
Jem stopped moving for a moment and looked down. He felt nauseous as he became aware of how the rope swayed in the light breeze. He closed his eyes and gripped the rope. In his mind Jem transported himself to his childhood days. His mother would push him on a swing and he would laugh and insist on more. He matched the image of himself swinging from the small rope swing to the feeling of his body swaying to and fro.
“Come on Jem,” shouted Kelvin, “you’re holding me up, remember we are tied together.”
Jem raised his arms from their free hanging position and pulled himself forward. Hanging upside down he looked back at the progress they had made and his heart sank. They had covered only about twenty paces. His arms were tired and his neck hurt from supporting the hanging weight of his head for so long. “This is going to take the whole day, isn’t it Kelvin?”
“Pace up Jem,” said Kelvin. “The only way out is through.”
As the day waxed on Jem became more fatigued and Kelvin more insistent that they just keep moving on. At midday Kelvin suggested that they stop and try to climb into the under slung platform for a rest and a snack. It was harder to do as everything bounced and swayed. They eventually managed to get into a less uncomfortable position on the platform and had a chance to stretch their arms and legs and hold their heads upright.
They ate a light meal of fruit and water for energy as a heavy packed meal of leftovers would have made them feel lethargic. Being hungry but slightly fed always made them feel motivated.
Jem adjusted the knots and ropes to give them the comfort that a change in position could give, and started to climb back into canyon crossing mode. He scanned the far horizon and breathed in the cool air. “Kelvin.”
“What?”
“We have a situation.”
“What now?” Kelvin had not seen what Jem had seen.
“The weather is going to spoil our crossing in less than an hour.”
No sooner had Jem spoken than a gust of wind buffeted them. The ever present mist roiled in swirls and coiling eddies. The ropes creaked as they swayed and stretched.
Kelvin’s face flushed at the prospect of having to do the rest of the journey over the rope bridge in a howling storm. “Let’s just ditch everything that we don’t need and climb for our lives.” said Kelvin in a panic.
They had also packed sacks with gold coins from the cellar chest, berry wine, berries, clothes that they had scavenged from the old tavern and all their other stuff.
“We cannot ditch everything, surely.” protested Jem.
“At least leave the platform and make an effort to cover ground quickly.” said Kelvin.
“I have an idea.” said Jem. “Let’s leave everything here and just take the trailing rope with us. When we get to the other side we can just pull it all in.”
“Let’s do that.” said Kelvin.
The two boys heaved at their weight, forcing themselves into a steady rhythm. Kelvin kept on battering Jem with motivation and scare tactics. “The wind isn’t going to get weaker Jem. Pace up Jem. Try harder Jem.”
Kelvin wasn’t going to admit anything but the fear of heights, motion sickness, and all of his own inner monsters were starting to take their toll.
A cold wind could be heard echoing through the canyon from far away. The sound was loud and running ahead of itself, hailing its imminent arrival. The gust whooshed as it stirred the mist from the canyon. Kelvin looked at the approaching wind with horror. It could be seen approaching like a dust cloud on a desert. His skin broke out in hives and goose bumps and his throat disobeyed his command of silence and let out a wail of terror as tears flooded his eyes.
Jem turned to Kelvin who was a stricken figure and watched as his friend was consumed by fear. “Kelvin, Kelvin, look into my eyes! Kelvin!”
Kelvin turned to Jem and Jem saw that the pupils of his eyes were dilated like black holes in his face.
43
Thist sat on the edge of the cliff, his feet dangling over the edge. He had found a shallow cave which was just an overhang of jutting rocks. The cavity was barely deep enough for him and his belongings. From his new sheltered vantage point Thist could hide from the strange group of people who seemed to mill around the shanty village just beyond the rocky outcrops. Thist watched his two friends and travel companions as they struggled with themselves and the gear. They had abandoned the strange platform-like contraption in the centre of the rope bridge and had progressed only ten yards on. He found the physical exchanges between the two boys comical; Jem was fighting the balance of the ropes to try to make good eye contact with Kelvin, who was trying to scream his own head off. It was either pain or terror or a combination of both, but not joy. Thist thought of his own experience while crossing, then nodded in sympathy and mouthed a few words of encouragement to Kelvin. “You better grow yourself a new set or your soul will be snapped in half.”
Thist watched as Jem leaned forward to Kelvin and slapped him on the cheek three times. A faint echoing sound of Jem’s voice could be heard as he shouted into Kelvin’s face, “Look at my eyes.”
The wind had come up in buffeting gusts hitting the duo as they tried to make the short journey of three hundred paces. It was probably only three thousand paces to the bottom of the canyon but the slightest fear of heights would give generously to exaggeration. Thist squinted at them as he watched Jem lean towards his distressed friend and wrap his shirt around Kelvin’s face. Kelvin could not protest as he could not let go of the ropes.
Thist shuffled himself into a comfortable spot inside his cave and lounged over his bags. He cupped his hands around his eyes to shield from the sand that was blowing in from the cliff top and from the glaring light that reflected off the mist.
The two friends on the rope were moving along again like upside down inchworms on a wash line. It bobbed and whipped as the wind tugged at it. Jem pulled himself along a few times and then turned to call back encouragement to his friend.
“That’s clever Jem.” said Thist as he realized what Jem had done to Kelvin. “You blind folded him.”
The technique of blindfolding a terrified person was difficult to do but worked well if you could pull it off. Thist remembered that it was called the ‘reft’ technique and was a useful skill for self-calming. It was first implemented to calm a fear stricken animal by throwing a dark cloth over its head. The local healer had tried it once in the tavern on a man who had become hysterical when a snake had startled him. When the tavern tea towel was thrown at him, it had covered his face and the man sank to his knees in a kneeling position. All the other tavern patrons thought that it was a party trick and laughed loudly, not realizing that the snake was still amongst them.
The wind, which had been picking up its pace, had become frigid. Thist wrapped himself in a blanket and rocked back and forth to try to warm himself. The foolish canyon crossing was a monumental undertaking in the best of circumstances. But the poor quality of equipment, lack of experience and treacherous weather was taking its toll on all three of them. He was alone and bored which made the voices chatter a little louder. There wasn’t anything he could do, but wait. He lay back, rested his head and started to doze.
Thist stood at the edge of the raging river. He was sta
nding on the river bank with his back hard up against the cliff. He could feel the jagged edges of rock protruding into his back. He stood bare foot on a sliver of sand, his feet just touching the edge of the water. It was calm just a few inches from him, but became a torrent of violent rapids just beyond an arm’s length away. Torrents of foaming white water gushed from the rocks and an ever present thunder rolled as the noise from the powerful river clapped and echoed.
Thist stood in awe as he stared at the impossible size of the river. The deafening sound faded and became background noise. He listened and looked, drinking in the spectacle. Far on the horizon of the water, Thist could hear a large angelic choir singing a heavenly song in perfect harmony. The song echoed between the two cliffs that encapsulated the river. The echoes served to multiply the choir voices and the raging white water harmonized with the song like a giant symphony. He stood in silence, his mouth hanging open and tears streaming down his face. He knew that he was dreaming but could not bring himself to take control of such a beautiful spectacle. He let it flow over him and consume him.
As the sound of the choir voices came closer he could see a host of apparitions floating above the water. They all wore long lace gowns that covered their feet. They had long golden hair but their faces were hazy and unrecognizable as individual, but he recognized them for what they were. They were the lost souls, a whole choir full.
It was the first time that he had met with more than one lost soul in a dream and tried to make sense of the significance. He raised his right hand and waved at them as they passed and then applauded. The choir seemed as if they were going to ignore Thist and float by, oblivious. As they levelled with him, they took up places on the far bank and sang directly at him. The energy of their voices impacted him physically and soaked his soul. He could not understand a word of the language and decided that it was the tongue of angels that was saturating him. He did not resist, he let the song devour him. Tears of soul weeping streamed down his cheeks and dripped from his chin and joined the raging river. As his tears struck the river they glowed for a moment and for every tear that joined the river one face on the choir singers became visible to him.