Pilgrimage

by Carl Purcell

  Then, at last, Roland coughed it all up and breathed deep on his own. He opened his eyes and pushed himself up. He was awake. He was alive.

  “You're alive!” Griffith shouted and threw his arms around Roland.

  “I am,” Roland remarked. He clenched his hands into fists and pointed his toes. His body was there, whole and working fine. He had been given another chance and he had never felt so good. “You saved me, didn't you?”

  “I did.” Griffith stood and pulled Roland up with him. “Just like you saved me. You saved us both. I don't know how you did it but I saw what was left of Pentdragon up the road.”

  “He's dead?” Roland asked.

  Griffith nodded.

  “Then it's almost over. How is Yasu doing on the town?”

  “I don't know. Oh! I haven't given her the ashes yet. Can you walk?”

  “I think so.” Roland took a step away from Griffith, finding balance on his own feet. “Whatever you did to me I feel better than I have in a long time. I feel...” Roland paused and thought of the right word “New. I feel new.”

  “Well, in a way, I guess you are. I'll tell you all about it, but first I have to get Master Yasu her ashes. I did all I could but it won't last if she can't kill this disease”

  “Go, then. I'll meet you back at the church.”

  “All right.” Griffith looked over Roland again. He couldn't contain his joy and excitement. For once, Roland understood his high spirits. The hardest battles were fought and won. Their enemies were defeated, the end was near. Griffith sprinted away.

  Roland watched him go, then turned and started back towards the church. Moments later, as Roland neared the doors of the chapel, Griffith re-joined him, glass jars in hand. They handed their bounty over to Yasu. Master Yasu took it without a word, set it down in front of her and continued to meditate. Griffith sat and waited for her to finish. Roland took a seat in the pews to watch. Time ticked on past and Master Yasu said nothing. The passing of the hour did nothing to calm the excited young Griffith.

  Roland flexed his new arm and examined the hairless patches on his body. He tried to figure out exactly what had happened to him in the blast and he closed his eyes. Had he been unconscious? How long was he gone? What had Griffith needed to do to him? He wanted to know and yet they didn't seem like questions that were important enough to ask. Whatever had happened, it was another chance for him to make right the wrongs of his past. He'd faced his death and seen what he needed to do.

  Now he could do it.

  He would be eternally grateful for that chance.

  “She's doing it!” Griffith exclaimed and pointed to the glass jar. Roland snapped to attention, letting his thoughts and questions drift away. He followed Griffith's finger to the jar. The black ashes in the jar turned brown and grew green tufts of grass and long roots. Griffith rushed to the door and flung them wide open. The whole of Gravesend was regrowing and filling with colour and life once again. Across the road he saw a car door open and a man drag himself out, rubbing his eyes and looking around in the light like he'd never seen the world before. Griffith turned back to Master Yasu and Roland.

  “The people are waking up. The town is back the way it was! The grass and leaves have regrown. What about near the Hotel?” He rushed over to Yasu and knelt down in front of her. “Master Yasu, the explosion had warped the town. Can we fix it?”

  “Is that what did that?” Roland asked.

  “Enough!” Master Yasu snapped. She stood up and lifted the tall glass jar. “Roland, go and empty this for me.”

  “Sure thing.” Roland took it from her and carried it to the door.

  “Everything is back to normal.” Yasu said. “It took me a long time but I eventually uncovered the disease and destroyed it. Then as you rebuilt Roland, I rebuilt Gravesend.”

  “You saw me doing that?” Griffith's voice was an awe-struck whisper

  “Of course!” Yasu lightly smacked him on the head. “I've known everything that was happening since you left the Church. I told you, the gofu let me see the town.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “I have also removed the disease from you and Roland.”

  “You did? Thank you! Thank you so much!”

  “It has been a pleasure.” Master Yasu bowed to him. Griffith bowed lower. Roland emptied the jar by the door, then returned to Griffith's side.

  “All done.” He handed her the empty jar. “And thanks for these beads. I think they saved my life a few times.”

  “More than you know.” She snatched the jar away from him. “Fighting that yamabushi was stupid. And blowing yourself up? If Griffith wasn't here, there'd be nothing left of you!”

  “Well, it was a good thing you were here, wasn't it?” Roland gave Griffith a pat on the arm and a thankful smile.

  “Baka,” Yasu muttered.

  “What now?” Griffith asked.

  “You take us home. We—”

  “Us?” Griffith interrupted.

  “Yes. Us.” She repeated.

  “Do you mean me? Will you accept me as your apprentice?”

  “One day I might get tired of living. If that happens, I'll need somebody to continue my work. That somebody should be a person full of kindness and full of courage.” Yasu explained. “You'll do fine.”

  “Courage and kindness? Griffith's got more of that than any sane man should.”

  Griffith nodded and smiled until his face hurt. “I do! And I won't disappoint you, Master Yasu! Whatever it takes, I'll do it. I'm your man!” Griffith said. He wanted to reach out and embrace both Master Yasu and Roland but he restrained himself.

  “Well, you can start by taking us home.”

  “All right. Let's go.” Griffith started towards the door. Yasu picked up her bag, fastened the drawstrings and made for the exit.

  Chapter 21

  Griffith made a point to drive east first, passing the Gravesend Hotel and the blast zone. Everything was as it should be, except for an empty lot that used to be somebody's home.

  “The blast teleported the building somewhere. I don't know where so I couldn't return it,” Master Yasu explained when Griffith asked. Roland laughed from his place in the back of the hearse. Master Yasu had also seen to it to destroy Pentdragon's body so the newly awakened residents of Gravesend would not have to question its sudden appearance. It was good thinking. If they were lucky, they'd never know what really happened to their town. In Roland's experience, it was best to leave the sorcerer world to the sorcerers.

  Griffith turned around at the end of Gravesend and drove west again until they were back in Salem and outside Master Yasu's home. She stepped out of the car and went straight to her door. Griffith let himself out, then opened the rear door for Roland to clamber out. Yasu bee-lined for her house and left her new apprentice and his friend alone. Roland stretched and dusted himself off. Griffith waited for him to finish. Then they just looked at each other, silently acknowledging that it was coming to an end. Roland took the prayer beads from around his neck and handed them to Griffith.

  “Give these to Yasu. They protected me from Pentdragon's spells. I think they even saved me from the blast. But I guess I don't need them any more.”

  “Sure.” Griffith said and took them. He stared at them for a long time, until Roland spoke again.

  “Say thanks to her for me.” Roland added.

  “I will.” Griffith nodded without looking up.

  “So uh...”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I guess that's that.”

  “I guess so.” Griffith offered a momentary weak smile, but turned back to the beads.

  “And thank you, Griffith.” Roland reached out and gave Griffith a slight, friendly pat on the arm.

  “Sure. No worries.” Griffith nodded.

  “It's been a crazy, wild ride. Right? I've seen and done things I didn't think were even possible. I jumped out of a flying house, I fought a monster, nearly died a few times.”

  Griffith stayed quiet.r />
  “I even rode in a hearse.” Roland tried to smile this time, lasting a little longer and then clearing his throat and acting like it never happened.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Griffith asked. “After Pentdragon, I mean.”

  Roland sighed. “Killing a man isn't how I wanted to start a new chapter in my life. But it was him or us. For once, fighting meant something, you know? Maybe all those other fights were just practice for that one.”

  “Caia would call it fate.”

  “She probably would.”

  “You think she's right?”

  “Kid.” The word was warm and sweet. “I just don't know. But if it isn't, where does that leave me?”

  “Where ever you want to be. You can still start again. You can do things differently, just like you said.”

  Roland shrugged. “I'll take your word for it.”

  Another long silence. Roland kept his eyes averted.

  “Where will you go?” Griffith asked.

  “Back to Sydney. There's some people I owe an apology.”

  “People you've decided not to forget?”

  Roland nodded and grunted quietly in answer.

  “I hope it works out for you.”

  “Me too.” Roland chuckled. He didn't believe for a second that Violet would take him back. He didn't know if he wanted her to. She'd married a different Roland, a Roland he hadn't been for a long time. He didn't imagine Violet even wanted to see him again, but she deserved an apology and maybe even an explanation. And he wanted to know if she was happy. He hoped that somehow, maybe, leaving her had been the right thing. She deserved more than he could ever be.

  “I'm sure they'll be glad to see you,” Griffith said.

  “We both know what sort of person I am, Griffith. Let's not kid ourselves.” Roland stepped back and leaned against the hearse. He folded his arms across his chest and looked up. The setting sun painted the sky a dazzling array of pinks. Soon it would be black and then orange with the sunrise, then blue, then pink again come sunset. That's just how it worked; the sky couldn't change or escape that cycle no matter what. Maybe that's just the way the world worked. Who can fight nature?

  “You know, Roland, I'm not sure you do know what sort of person you are. But I hope you find out soon.”

  “Me too.” Roland looked back to Griffith. “And I hope I'm the kind of person you think I am.” This time, when he smiled, it stuck.

  “Will you visit?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Will you keep in touch? You can send a letter.”

  “I don't know. I'm not very good at that sort of thing.”

  “Please.”

  “Sure. Sure, I'll write. Number seven, yeah? I'll remember.”

  “I'm glad. It's just going to be me and Master Yasu now. I could use a friend, even one a long way away.”

  “It's what you wanted, isn't it?”

  “Yeah.” Griffith answered and the tail of the word drifted away into thoughts. Then he smiled, too. “It is. It really is.”

  “Then your pilgrimage is over and your dreams are coming true. Master Griffith, the legendary sorcerer of Salem.”

  “I've got a long way to go.”

  “Yeah.” Roland turned his head and looked over his shoulder to the south. The highway ran all the way to the horizon from Salem. “So do I. But as far as legends go, it's not a bad start.”

  “You worried?”

  “Like you wouldn't believe.” Roland didn't stop smiling. “You know how they say you get butterflies in your stomach? I think I've got albatross.”

  “If anything happens, I'll be here.” Griffith put a hand on Roland's shoulder.

  “Don't worry about me.” He turned back to face his friend. “I'm stubborn. I never back down, even when I should. I'll find a way.”

  “I'm sorry I can't go with you. It seems unfair that you're starting your own journey and I'm just leaving you.”

  “Hey, that was the deal. I went with you to Salem, I helped you find your master and you're an apprentice again. There's no more diseases and no more sorcerers chasing you. Things will be so peaceful, you won't know what to do. Now go start living the dream.” Roland grasped Griffith's hand and pulled it from his shoulder; he shook it in both hands. Griffith returned the gesture.

  “Good-bye, Roland.”

  “I'll see you around, kid.” He let him go. Griffith walked the path to the door but stopped before going inside. He turned back to Roland and shouted: “I left something for you in the passenger seat.” Then he went inside.

  The sun was setting over Salem and disappearing behind Yasu's house. Roland watched until Griffith was inside and then just stared at the door for a little longer. When he was ready, he climbed into the hearse. He reached into the back from the driver's seat and pulled his backpack into the passenger seat. Beside it, just like Griffith said, was an envelope. Roland checked inside and found a handful of hundred dollar notes. His payment for a job well done.

  Well, mostly well done.

  Roland started the engine and while it warmed up, he turned on the radio and tuned it until he found the first station playing music. The sound was blue, with plenty of soul. That'd do. Roland turned the car around and left, leaving the town of Salem to fade away into the brilliant shades of sunset.

  Those who are free of resentful thoughts surely find peace.

  -Buddha

  Afterword: The Mythical Australia

  In the south of New South Wales, beyond Wollongong but before Canberra, is a place called Collector. The little town sits off the highway, away from the well travelled roads between major cities. One day, while travelling with my sister and brother-in-law, he had the notion it might be good material for a story. We departed from our planned drive and took a road off the highway, into one of the many forgotten towns of rural Australia. This was the first I'd ever heard of Collector or The Dreamer's Gate.

  The Dreamer's Gate is a abstract and gothic sculpted wall sitting by the side of the road in what was the creator's front yard. The sculpture is made of cement on a wire frame and has hands and faces sticking out at odd places. There's something that looks like a man in a bone shell that serves to highlight a very macabre skeletal motif.

  Up the road from The Dreamer's Gate, back towards the highway, is a pub called the Bushranger Hotel. It has a reputation for being haunted by a former owner. It's a nice little place with cream colour columns out the front and maroon window frames along the top. It looks like it's been renovated a few times, having extra pieces added to the original design.

  Australia, with the exception of a few capitals, is made of small towns like Collector or Salem. Even the places we call “cities” wouldn't register on a global scale. I spent much of my formative years living in and around a town not unlike Armidale.

  On innumerable drives across Australia's countryside I saw many small towns and rural communities. I have come to believe that it's in these little places, sprawled across the country, that mythology still lives and breathes.

  In what you could say is the reverse of Roland's travels, I moved out of the country into the city. A real city. Sydney, to be specific. Here in the city - amongst the skyscrapers, high rise apartments, sprawling factory complexes and two story suburban homes - it's easy to pretend that the world is a tame and well controlled place. But beyond the borders of our urban havens there is a wild place full of deep forests, endless fields, impassable deserts and mountain ranges that touch the sky. These are the places where Perseus fought Medusa and Frodo fled from the Nazgul. These places have existed, still exist and will always exist. They form the ancient, mythical reflection of our planet.

  Many of the places Roland and Griffith visit are real towns in rural New South Wales. But at the same time, they're not those places. The Red Lion Tavern exists in our world too, but there are no flyers for the Blair Hill Beast Nature Walk. There is no Master Yasu in the town of Salem on the New South Wales and Queensland border. There is no town of Sale
m in New South Wales at all (although I am led to believe there is a Salem in South Australia). All of this exists only in the fictional, mythical Australia.

  And here there be monsters! Or at least we like to think so. Like every country, Australia has a great array of mythical creatures said to hide in our deepest, darkest forests and just below the surface of the streams and lakes. Many of them come from the Aboriginal mythical cycle and have become engrained into the wider Australian psyche. Stories range from the Bunyip that hides in Billabongs to the elusive Lithgow Panther and that most dangerous of all Australian creatures: The drop bear.

  So you see, for me, this made Australia an obvious choice for the setting of a fantasy novel. When I set out writing “Pilgrimage” and my first novel “Sorceress' Blood” I set out with a mind to re-imagine the classic tales. Long journeys, tyrannical feudal lords, ancient evils lying in wait and blood-thirsty cults are not new to fantasy but so often they get stuck in an ancient world. And there's usually elves involved, too. Lots of elves. But for me, the modern world is just as fantastic and inspiring. We live in a marvellous and exciting time.

  Last I heard, The Dreamer's Gate was being demolished and the property sold. By the time you read this, it might be gone. But that's okay. You can tear down the gate but you can't destroy the dreamers or their dreams. It's imagination as much as the geography that fuels the mythical Australia and provides people like Roland and Griffith with their adventures. They're adventures that can only happen when you leave the city and get off the beaten path. Try it sometime. Who knows what you'll find?