Long Days in Paradise - The First Book of the Shards of Heaven

by Amos T. Fairchild

Chapter 3 – Transition III

  Flies in amber, trapped they be,

  But other worlds they never see.

  I

  A drug induced dream, or one hell of a hallucination, Jorden thought, anything else left too many questions unanswered. He couldn't have spent the night away from home without somebody noticing something. He spent much of the afternoon in his room trying to make some sort of sense of it all, trying to place it all into some meaningful time-line, but failed miserably.

  Tsarin knew he'd be back; Jorden promised himself that he wouldn't. Yet again, just a few hours after leaving, he came back to the threshold of the dream, the gateway into fantasy. It was already late afternoon by then, the light poor in the shadow of the trees. A walk between the trees would again bring the flash and chill as it had done before, and again the wind would roar in his ears. He stepped forward and up from the stony bed of the creek, a hand on the left-most tree, and held his breath.

  The land about seemed to brighten marginally, the slightest of chills within, but if it were not for the far more obvious changes about him Jorden would hardly have noticed the transition. It looked like morning, or at least it had the feeling of such, and the pillars of the giants about him were clouded in mist, and heavy droplets of moisture crashed from the canopy above.

  It had been clear and dry a moment before.

  Jorden inhaled deeply, knowing that all was not well, his mind definitely not necessarily under his control. Tsarin had promised that she would explain, but there was little she could say that could settle him now, if she really existed. All that he needed was to be soothed by a figure he had created within his own mind.

  It was a dream, he knew, but the lines between reality and fantasy were ill-defined. Had the conversation with his mother that afternoon been experienced or merely dreamed, or did he simply fall into a vivid and lucid slumber each time he stepped into the woodland?

  At present he found that he was becoming wet, and the water that fell from above felt remarkably like water should. He was cold. Jorden shook his head and walked on toward the house, wondering what changes had come about since his last visit. He had surly forgotten much of its detailed structure and would have much to fabricate: rooms to redesign, a courtyard to landscape, new girls to have stroll upon the verandahs. Perhaps this time he would dream of four ponds, each filled with blue swans and...

  II

  The garden still had three ponds, the open verandah remained; indeed Jorden could find little that had changed. It was just a little wetter than the last time he had seen it, but at least the rain had now eased, almost stopped completely.

  He shrugged. It was a consistent dream at least.

  Tsarin met him on the stair. It was almost as if she was standing there waiting for him, knowing he would return quickly it seemed, although she was dressed in yet another robe. “I had begun to think that you would not return until the next cycle,” she said and smiled.

  Jorden said nothing in return, looking over the misty courtyard in thought. “Perhaps you will join me for a late breakfast,” Tsarin went on to ask. “Or perhaps you have already eaten?” Her words were soft and somehow consoling, the words of someone who knew more than she said.

  With a puff of breath, Jorden shook his head. “I don't think I've eaten since this dream started,” he said at last. “Whenever that was.”

  “I think that you will find it difficult to awaken,” she returned. “This may well be something of a dream, but it is not yours, I promise.”

  “That's easy for you to say.”

  Tsarin shrugged. “If it is a dream then at least stay until you wake, and we can eat and speak.”

  “I just want to know what the hell is going on,” Jorden groaned. “Either I'm going mad, or you're putting something funny in my orange juice.”

  The Kaedith placed a hand on his shoulder and walked him toward the shelter of the house. “In time I will tell all, and you will not believe. Surely then there is little urgency in me telling you.” She gestured toward the forest that surrounded. “You may simply see this house as a refuge for the present time, a place of rest that is far removed from the troubles of yourself and your own world.”

  “I don't really need a place of rest,” Jorden stated more firmly as they wandered within the house proper. “I just really want some answers.”

  “Breakfast, then answers.” Tsarin led on. “I'm hungry even if you are not.”

  “Answers first,” Jorden insisted. “When I was first in this house I met a young girl name Tsarin, and she was no kaedith then. Now there's this Kaedith Tsarin, renowned witch-doctor...”

  Tsarin shook her head as he spoke. “I was born kaedith,” she interrupted. “It is my order. One can no more become kaedith than one can become male if born female. We are born, not created. Then I was a simple kaedith novice, now I am Precinct Kaedith of Tucaar, just as was Mahanam before me.” The woman gestured toward the west, or what was essentially south to her frame of reference. Jorden knew it as toward the door into reality. “The Western Pacific Line that separates our worlds is a barrier I do not fully understand. It seems not to care greatly for measurements of time.”

  “Worlds!” Jorden snorted. “That's crap, lady...”

  “Please Jorden,” Tsarin interrupted again. “Breakfast. Then I will show you things that you cannot deny. You can then either doubt me or your sanity, the choice will be yours.”

  Jorden shook his head, but remained quiet, Tsarin hoping that the truth could be kept to a minimum. She had little desire to tell of more than was absolutely necessary, and had not been told enough to remain convincingly uncertain.

  III

  Breakfast was served on a covered way that overlooked the garden, the clouds above dissipating as they ate. Jorden couldn't gaze toward the naked sky as yet, and doubted that he wished to. A memory lingered that he wished to suppress.

  The meal was mostly fruit, but there were cold meats and fish amongst the somewhat generous servings. Some were fruits that he knew well, others more exotic, some completely alien to his experience. “Where's Perrin?” he asked, avoiding the issues plaguing his mind. He had noticed that it had been another girl who served breakfast, one of the many staff members, perhaps.

  Tsarin swallowed the piece of slightly reddish pineapple she had chewed. “She has left for Thagul, I believe,” the kaedith said absently, her own mind also upon other matters. “She began early and worked hard, her pledge completed sooner than most. Perhaps next cycle she will come again.”

  “Cycle?” Jorden murmured as he moved to sample a bright sapphire blue berry on his crystal plate.

  “A year to those of Beyond. I keep a large staff for only half of that period. The rest I spend within the village of Tucaar, this house abandoned.”

  To Jorden that seemed a strange practice, but it wasn't high on his list of priority questions, questions that the kaedith seemed in no mood to answer. “Toocarr,” he said awkwardly. “I don't think I've heard of it.” He ignored Tsarin's mention of other worlds, preferring to think that she still spoke metaphorically – social worlds within and beyond the commune. Only he knew it wasn't a commune, just a house that shouldn't be.

  “Of course not,” she said with no hint of surprise. “You have heard of it no more than you have heard of Thagul or Saljid, Ponomilo or Boston. Conversely I know little of the world beyond, only those places of importance which Hura has told of: Pyengana, your home; Tasmania, your precinct...”

  “I know Boston.”

  Tsarin shrugged. “There are names that exist both here and there, perhaps. You are not the first to have come within the Domain in the last thousand cycles.”

  Jorden ate another of the sweet blue berries, then sat back within the intricately hand-carved chair. Now to business. “Maybe you could explain this Domain of Hura Ghiana thing. I just walked here from home...”

  Tsarin stood suddenly, breakfast at an end it would seem. “If you are finished then I will show
you to where you can stay, that is if you wish to remain here with us. Of course you will move on to Tucaar as the cycle continues.” She noted the angry frown. “Then we will walk on to the village so that you may learn more of our land. Answers will soon come quicker than your questions, but they will prompt you to further questions.”

  He wondered if the kaedith, whatever race or breed they may have been, were always so evasive. “Why not,” he grumbled as he stood. He at least had time to play with now. “It will certainly be more fun than Bill's friends, I'm sure.” Friends that should have come the previous day, he reminded himself, only that had been today as well. Jorden tried to lock out logic.

  Logic kept knocking.

  Tsarin smiled, but it was not an easy smile, Jorden noticed. This was a woman who knew a lot more than she said. Then she led on to the stair that lowered them from the deck of the verandah surrounding the landscaped ponds to the neatly manicured lawns aside the path.

  They walked, this time away from the trees that led home, the house of Tsarin vanishing amongst the woods that soon rose around them. It was a broad smooth path some three paces wide at that point, the woods open and well cared for about it. A moment later they came upon another house amongst the trees, smaller than that of Tsarin's, yet spacious enough for a modest family.

  Tsarin moved into the clearing the house sat within, the lawns and gardens as immaculate as her own. Indeed by the way she confidently strode toward the blue and white abode Jorden guessed that it was also the property of the kaedith. “Nice,” he said, but then most places looked nice compared to where he was living.

  The kaedith nodded. “Then it is yours. I will have a staff appointed for you. A cook and someone who will clean...”

  “Whoa,” Jorden said as he backed slightly from the house, a hand raised in protest. “We've only talked a couple of times, and I'm not even sure about that. Then you want to give me a house. This is all really strange.” He shook his head and smiled – he couldn't help but smile. “You can see how strange it is, right?” Strange but tempting, if it weren't for the catch, and Jorden wasn't sure what the catch was. He just hoped it didn't involve his sanity.

  Tsarin nodded slowly, her words considered momentarily before she made them known. “Let us assume that this is your dream, as you have suggested, your paradise, perhaps.” The kaedith began to walk in a circle about the man. “Surely such a place should be as comfortable as I can make possible. There are many things that I cannot provide to which you are well used, yet there are other things that were previously a part only of your fantasy.” She held her arms outstretched. “I offer it all to you.”

  “If this were a dream,” Jorden returned uneasily, “there wouldn't be a problem.”

  IV

  Then there was the village.

  Jorden walked quietly away from the house, following in the shadow of the kaedith, trying to come to terms with the world about him and searching for a meaningful explanation. He wasn't successful as yet.

  He had glanced to the clearing sky as he had stood in the gardens of the house and again he had seen the odd sun floating in the off-white heavens. It was not the sun he knew, not the ball of plasma that warmed his home. It looked more like a flare that had been launched into the morning sky, its vapours boiling into space.

  Then the woods parted and the path vanished. It was replaced by a narrow lane that ran between two dark buildings, then they strode on to the street of the village.

  There were few others to be seen: an elderly woman on the landing of a small store, a man sitting on a wooded bench, a horse plodding slowly along the dusty roadway with a wagon-load of fruit in tow. It was not a village that would have been seen in Tasmania, Jorden knew that, yet where? And when? Paradoxes of space and time began to whirl within. He became dizzy with it before managing to calm himself.

  The village did exist, he was looking at it, and it was just a collection of rough wooden structures that belonged in a distant past. He knew that it would not be difficult to create a village that belonged within his history, it had been done many times in the past. There were plenty of tourist towns around the world that mimicked a time long forgotten, but such places were well known, not hidden such as this.

  And if it wasn't built to attract tourists, then why? “Tucaar?” Jorden asked feebly.

  Tsarin glanced to him and chuckled. “Chodor, an unshielded light-time outpost. Tucaar is a true village.” She walked him along the street until they came to an intersection. “This way leads to Tucaar and Thagul,” she said as she pointed to the left, then she pointed right. “And that leads to Koter and Woodworm and even Bowen, but that is near a million footfall for the road is far from straight and follows the coast for much of the way.”

  They did not turn left or right, but walked ahead onto the continuing street of the village. Jorden glanced to the tiny shops, shops that weren't really shops at all. They appeared more like open stalls that traded anything that was available, many dealing in a variety of articles, tools of the soil and clothing hung side by side. And there were knives and swords, Jorden noticed uneasily, and bows and spears – things not often seen in his own safe, secure world.

  The street did not go forever. It faded into a tiny track that climbed a meagre slope, a growing roar sounding in Jorden's ears. He tensed within. He hoped the sound was nothing more than the waves of a violent ocean crashing against rugged cliffs, yet even that presented it own problems. He lived over twenty kilometres from the nearest stretch of coastline. Imagination ran wild, a brief vision came into his mind of a perpetual landslide, then a boiling expanse of lava, then... then they came to the rocky crest of the rise.

  It was only the ocean. Only! Jorden walked out on the ledge of rock and peered into the roaring turbulence below. The cliff was some fifty metres high and it stretched in a great arc to his left and right, the green seas ahead vanishing into the white skies. Jorden sat back onto a large rock and stared at the expanse of water. It was too green.

  “Holy crap,” he said at last, then shook his head. This wasn't happening. “So where are the answers.” There weren't any answers, he knew that, only questions. Tsarin had told him that much in her own evasive manner.

  “Answers? This is my world, Jorden,” she said softly. “I am certain that the answers I seek are not those that worry you. I seek the future, the change of season, the times of rain, the perfection of my skills. I fear that you seek to put all you have seen within the bounds of your reality. It cannot be done.” She squatted nearby, flaring her robe about herself. “In your reality, this world cannot exist, and in mine nor can yours. For this is but one of the shattered worlds, a shard of dream that now boasts life, a life and reality brought to us by the coming of Hura. It is she that has somehow tied this land to your own.

  “But only Hura knows of such things, for she is oldest and wisest, and she knows but a tiny paragraph amongst a vast scroll.”

  “That's just rubbish,” Jorden thought aloud. “If there was this boundary that joined two worlds then people would be crossing it every day... we'd know about something like this. You can't say that I walked into another world!”

  Tsarin shook her head. “The line is merely a representation of transition points of minimum potential. There are also such lines upon your own world – lines that come near to the Domain, or another of the thousands of such shard worlds. The lines are weaknesses that sometimes fail. If there is a beast near to it when such happens then perhaps it will pass into our reality.

  “And such things happen, but they are rare,” she added. “And in such cases of chance the beast will often die, for the crossing is difficult without aid.” She paused to glance to the thoughtful gaze of Jorden Miles. “The lines of weakness can also be opened by force. Hura has learned of such and has opened the way from your world in many places in the hope of bringing new blood and greater knowledge to this land. You may well have walked though such to come to the House of Tsarin.”

&nb
sp; Jorden sat and respired, listening for his breath but failing to catch it amongst the roar of the waves. There was only one question left that needed to be answered, the rest could stay and live with the kaedith if they wished.

  “I only need to know one thing,” he said quietly, Tsarin nodding in return. “I've been feeling worse than ever since I came to this place, when I go home for too long, and I've blamed a lot of things. Lately I've been blaming you, thinking that you've been spiking my drinks with something.” He paused to think. “Well maybe you haven't. Maybe this world of yours does exist, and maybe it is hard to leave it without suffering some sort of withdrawal... and that's what it is, isn't it, withdrawal. I get sick from the lack of this place, not drugs at all.” He watched Tsarin nod. She was wearing a somewhat sombre expression, several creases forming on her brow. “I just need to know if I can survive back home. I felt like dying there for a while, and perhaps I would have, but if I can live through it, then I'm getting out of here.”

  “You would leave paradise?”

  Jorden nodded. “If it doesn't kill me.” He knew that he had to be crazy. He was crazy because he accepted this world as real, and he was even crazier to want to leave it. He felt better here than anywhere. Tsarin had offered him a place of his own and even people to look after him. But he couldn't just leave home like that.

  The kaedith herself was unsure. She could lie to him. She probably should lie to him. Yet it did not seem that he would be a great asset to the Domain. The ways of Hura were strange indeed.

  She thought hard. There was time, always time. “You probably would not die,” she told him eventually. “But you are not a well person, so nothing is certain. I would cease to exist in but a moment if I should pass through that portal to the Beyond, for I am of this dream, but you are not, you are still of the Beyond and remain within its power... for now. The longer you remain here, however, the more you become as one of the Domain, and the greater the risk there will be in returning.

  “But as for now you are not truly of this world and though you may feel such ill that you would long to die, you should not. Indeed Hura might even spare you such agony if she were here. Unfortunately she is not, and will not be for some time.”

  Jorden stood. “Then I should really be heading home, I think. I can't just leave home like this. But I can come and visit maybe.” He doubted that he would, however. He had answers enough, he was sure of that.

  Tsarin remained sitting; staring out upon the Sea of Challenge. She had been faced with something of a challenge and had failed, the young man would return to his own world despite her efforts. She had done all she could. What did it matter after all. This was just another Man. “Then go, Jorden Miles, return to what pathetic life you have...”

  That caught Jorden by surprise. “What the hell is that suppose to mean?”

  The kaedith remained at rest. “Farewell, Jorden Miles,” she said without emotion. “Go before it is too late.”

  Jorden stood a moment and thought to argue. But perhaps there was more to what she said than it appeared. Maybe it was better to go before it was too late.

  V

  Jorden almost trotted through the village, ignoring the inhabitants and their flimsy shops. It was harder to ignore the blue and white house. He wondered if he really could live in such a place instead of his crummy little room, wondered if he was passing up the greatest opportunity of his life. He doubted it. Nobody offered anything for free. They always expected something in return, and no matter how friendly and kind the kaedith seemed, he knew that she wanted something. He just didn't know what.

  He walked carefully past the house of the kaedith. It was quiet, none of the girls visible on the verandah or the garden he could just catch glimpses of. In fact the only sign of life was an overly large, black bat that was sweeping by overhead, an unsettling glimpse of the local wildlife. Jorden kept to the path, deciding to take the slightly longer route in preference to the short cut across the ridge, a short cut that meant coming closer to the house than he wished. Although it seemed that Tsarin was willing to let him go, he also knew that she seemed overly eager for him to stay. He didn't wish to meet any more determined opposition.

  But that was one thing in favour of the kaedith. She had tried to coax him in to remaining within her world, yet never did she attempt force. If he said that he was leaving, then those of the house had always politely said their farewells and let him go on his way. Tsarin had even shown him the short cut.

  Unfortunately, today was different.

  Jorden did not come to realize that until after he had passed the cellar door and came onto the path amongst the giant trees. Even Tsarin had not planned upon such action. She had not felt there was the need. Yet there she was, standing before the two small knotted trees that led home. She had come to that place by other means than Jorden had available, and although he was surprised by her presence, he was not truly concerned – not yet.

  Now she stood in thought. She had come to have one last attempt at changing the mind of the Male, to offer one last argument that may keep him within the Domain. But Tsarin found that she had no words to give, no argument or plea that could hope to alter the mind of Jorden Miles, an entity who could now think of little but a safe return to his previous life. He could perhaps be useful in her land...

  But why bother trying? she thought again. If it had not been for the odd visitation of Hura – and the speech that had centred on this young man, Jorden Miles – then she would not even have considered such a confrontation.

  Jorden approached slowly, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable. “That was quick,” he said softly, guessing that she knew of many short cuts. “Ah.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry if I seemed ungrateful up on the cliffs. You've all been as nice as anything to me. Perhaps...” He paused, rebuking himself within. Don't go too far Miles. “Perhaps I'll come back next weekend...” And then perhaps not.

  Tsarin shook her head. “I see within that you have no desire to return. You need not lie. You wish to control your own destiny and not have such comforts simply provided.”

  “I just don't know why you would want me here...”

  “I am sorry Jorden,” She said, and she indeed appeared genuine. “I really wish I also knew.” For a moment it seemed Tsarin would burst into tears, then she composed herself and smiled toward Jorden. “Perhaps I could offer you employment within my precinct, there are many things that must be done, and you might pay to board within the servants quarters. This will remain a paradise, but if it makes you feel more comfortable, then you can earn your place amongst it.”

  “That's nice of you but...”

  The kaedith shook her head. “There are no other options. You can stay in my home, or you can make your own way in the Domain which surrounds you... A world that is unknown to you!”

  Jorden paused to consider the words of the kaedith, glancing to the trees. A chill began to creep within his soul, a distinct fear of the present line of conversation. What she was saying sounded way to much like a threat. He cleared his throat, wondering if he should make a dash for the trees. It was only five good strides. “Look,” he put forth uneasily. “I just want to go home. My mother will go nuts if I don't get home. I've seen more weird stuff today than I really want to think about. I just want to get home for a while...”

  Tsarin shook her head again. “One day perhaps you will, but not today.” She stood almost within the portal itself, poised on the edge of oblivion, and reached up to touch the crystal. Jorden gazed on in something that sat between horror and wonder, the green shard glowing within her grasp.

  She pulled, the thread which had supported the crystal snapping easily. A low rumble echoed through the woods. Jorden wasn't sure about what was going on, but it didn't look good. He glanced again to the trees; they shimmered slightly. He shouted, and raced toward them.

  Tsarin held the crystal with both hands. It broke easily, the rain of green powder that it became drifting slowly towa
rd the forest floor. It was then a mixture of red and brown dust, then a flash of blue fire, the snap of thunder deafening.

  The trees vanished, and so did a substantial portion of the wood nearby. Jorden ran between two white posts that stood where the gateway had been. There was no creek, just more forest and more giant trees.

  He stopped and stood in something approaching shock.

  “My house is still your house,” the kaedith said quietly, and walked away.

  Jorden abused her momentarily, and ran off in search of reality.