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"The Trining"


Chapter 1
AWAKENED TO SLEEP

By Jay Squires

Chapter One
 
 I opened an eye to the grass-tufted, sandy terrain slanting down to the glare of a scarlet sea. My other eye was scrunched against the ground. I ached and felt incredibly weak. Where am I? How did I get here? I tried to assess things. My shoes were wet, my trousers damp and I was shirtless. I had another thought, but my mind didn't want to experience it. Where did I come from? I felt suddenly adrift, alone. My heart raced at the thought of it.
 
My focus gathered on something else, something immediate: a soft pressure on my back prevented easy movement. It was fairly evenly spread from my shoulders to below my hips. I closed my good eye in concentration, straining to hear or feel the movement of breathing against my back. Nothing. As weak as I was, I felt I had a good chance, given the element of surprise, to overpower whatever it was by suddenly pushing up with a twist to the side. I'd give it a while, though. Get my bearings.
 
I watched a breeze raise occasional little puffs, as wispy as smoke, from the sandy surface. It was carried aloft for awhile then fell like mist back to the surface. My mind struggled with the image. I'd never seen nor heard anything like it before. Obviously, the deep redness of the sea was an illusion, some kind of refraction of the sun's rays, bouncing off algae.
 
On the sand next to my face, I saw movement: a creature the size of a thumb-knuckle, wobbled up on his two-jointed back legs, made a gurgling sound and extended a foreleg toward my nose. All better judgment vanished; howling, I pushed up violently from the sand. A sudden, excruciating pain attacked my right ribcage, but my terror awakened a power in me that muted the pain.  Scrambling to my knees, I arched my back, uncoiling unrealized strength in my thighs and hips and launched whatever hugged to my back over my head and shoulders and into a white fabric heap four or five feet away.
 
Not taking my eyes off it, I stood unsteadily, covering my now throbbing ribs with my left hand. From the midst of the mound of white fabric, I thought I heard a whimper, but higher pitched, more like a whinnying. I watched the mound curiously, but alert for any untoward lurching up from underneath.
 
"Listen, whoever you are under there, I don't know what your game is, but don't do anything stupid." I kept my eyes trained on the white pile until I experienced a puzzling vibration in the soil under my feet and before I could respond, felt a flurry of light blows to my back and just as I spun around I thought I saw the white fabric sucked into the sand.
 
My fist balled, I began a roundhouse swing and even before I saw the blurred image of my aggressor, I connected squarely on the jaw of a stunned and beautiful girl-child who was neither human nor beast. The physical act of delivering the punch caused me to yowl in pain and reach for the newly reopened wound on my ribcage. I put my hand over it and blood oozed through my fingers. My knees weakened, almost buckled. Kneeling down beside her and with the palm of my free arm flattened on the ground, I steadied myself. I tried to shake the dizziness from my head. I couldn't allow myself to lose consciousness. Think! Think! I had to keep my mind active. What gave me the injury?  How can I have such an injury and not remember getting it? Unless ...
 
I grimaced down at the almost-human-like thing. Unless she ambushed me, injured me so badly that the pain of it blotted out all memory of when I got to this strange place—how I got here. My first memory was opening my eyes, a few minutes ago and seeing the red sea.
 
This thing that I had flattened—she wouldn't be the only one here. She was young. There had to be mother and father somewhere. Or a husband. She could be married. Someone—I glanced at her—or something, would be out looking for her. I swept my gaze across the sand dunes that swelled, then dipped then rose again away from us toward the horizon off to my left. I looked back in the other direction toward the blood-red sea, and then down at whatever lay in front of me.
 
Whatever she was, she was unconscious, flat on her back, the lids of her enormous eyes (I guessed to be at least twice the size of the normal human eye), were three-quarters closed with gold irises that ricocheted like marbles in a pinball machine. Her white gown, amazingly unsullied for all it had been through, draped her body while one corner of it was still buried in the sand from which she and it had moments earlier apparently emerged.
 
I couldn't imagine a bald female could be attractive, but she was. The crown of her head was large and well formed with no discernible indentations or bumps. She had a broad forehead, seemingly the broader for having no eyebrows. Beneath the thin bridge of her nose, her nostrils flared, and that bizarre whimpering, whinnying sound I'd heard earlier came again from her parted, full cerulean lips.
 
Judging from her frame and the freshness of her features, I estimated her to be no more than seventeen years old. So… I co-cocked a child with a right hook! I studied the arms and legs that protruded from the fortuitously arrayed covering. Her limbs, while neither skinny nor fat, seemed to betray a natural musculature. It was no wonder I had tossed her off me so easily and her subsequent blows on my back were as gentle as rain.
 
I had little to fear of this child-creature. I knelt down and took a closer look at her facial features. Beneath her at-half-mast eyelids, her irises were slowing now from the original frantic bouncing and bobbing of earlier. She was taking in air through her flared nostrils and releasing it with now more muted whimpering.
 
While I watched this child, her eyes shot fully open. She gasped and, as I pulled away from her, she dug her heels into the sand and, pushing off with legs and arms, began scrabbling backwards like a crab, dragging the garment with her and all the while never taking her huge eyes off me. After about ten yards she seemed to get tangled in her cloth, her arms gave way and she fell to her back. Instantly she rolled over and got to her feet with difficulty, drawing the garment around her. With a horrified look, she turned and began to run, but after only twenty yards or so she stopped and bent over panting and gasping for air.
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” I shouted, pressing harder on my wound.  “Don’t be frightened.”


She slowly straightened up and turned to face me. I thought for a moment that she was considering my attempt at pacifying her. She stared at me. Then she suddenly spewed out what must have been a vicious invective with a torrent of words I'd never heard of, but whose intent I had no trouble imagining. "Pondria! Monster! Go back—leave my people alone!"
 
Go back!  I stared at her, open-mouthed. "I'd love to go back. If you'd just—" I took a breath, feeling my consciousness trying to slip away from me. —"just point me in the right direction …." Surely she could see I was not a threat to her … or anyone, for that matter!
 
But, she was a threat to me! Gathering her garment around her, clutching it with one hand at the throat, I knew at that moment, that she zealously accepted the transfer of power. She lowered her large, well-shaped head, and, like a battering ram, aimed it at my midsection as her legs churned through the sand toward me.
 
Her head didn't have a chance to find her target, though. Taking in a deep, readying breath, I made an awkward, staggering attempt at planting my feet just before I felt them, and then my consciousness, floating away from me.
#
 
The pungency of burning wood opened my eyes. I tried to raise my head, but couldn't. Simply turning it to the side failed. I was incredibly weak. My last memory was of a hard, white head hurtling toward me. When was that? It could have been minutes, hours, days ago. Since then, I had a sense of drifting in and out of awareness. At one point I seemed to be conscious of movement—my hips and my heels scraping against the ground. She had to have dragged me somewhere. My eyes were so heavy. Need … to keep … them open. Need to … but, I couldn't. I drifted back from awareness where it was easier.
#
 
My head was raising. There was pressure at the back of it. "Eat," I heard. I opened my mouth, but felt it sag to the side. Something warm was now on my tongue. I moved it to where my teeth were and chewed. It was tangy. Something else on my tongue. Salty. I chewed, enjoying the crunchiness that spread juice throughout my mouth. "Sleep now," the voice demanded and my head was lowered back to the ground.
 
How much later it now was, I had no idea, but, opening my eyes was no longer an impossible task. Moving the head or the rest of the body would be harder, I sensed, but not impossible. Five feet overhead, a rock surface curved like a dome. Was this a cave? I smelled salt in the air. Distantly, I heard waves. Closer to me, I heard the friendly snapping and crackling of a fire, felt its warmth on that side of me. With some difficulty I turned my head toward it. Blinking away the glare, I saw, not entirely distinct from the shadows flickering on the wall, the one who would have wholeheartedly dismembered me at some indeterminate time ago. The expression on her face didn't suggest any deviation from that plan, now. She gnawed something she held tightly in her palm, but never took her unblinking amber eyes off mine. I had so many questions to ask her, but, not sure I could move my head, I was in no position to arouse her ire.
 
I seemed to be mending, though. There was no scorching pain in my side. I felt for a bandage. Not only was there none … there was no trace of the wound either, or a scab. I ran my fingers over it. There wasn't even a ridge of a scar. Had I been out of it that long? I was still weak, but being on my back for an extended period would account for that. Maybe with a little more recuperation I'd be able to remember how I got here. How much of the strangeness of this place—not the least of which was my captor/nurse—was pure hallucination brought on by fever and infection from my injury. Was my wound also a hallucination? She had been so easy to overpower earlier. A few more days rest and I'd be able to easily defend myself. In fact, I'd be able to demand answers of her.
 
I brought my head back to the front and closed my eyes.
#
 
The heat from the fire woke me. I was amazed how easy it was to move my head and arms. Testing my limits I tried sitting up. My back and joints were stiff, but I managed it. I made a quarter turn to face her.
She stiffened, making a guttural sound like an animal and, in a flash, retrieved a long, gnarled spear she had apparently been hewing to a sharp point during all the long hours and days it took me to regain enough strength to attack her. Why hadn't she saved herself the trouble in the first place and simply let me die? She held the point just out of my reach, but trained on—and within a sudden lunge of—my bare chest. Her eyes never left me.
 
"You are recovered," she announced, but as her mouth shaped the delivery of the words I noticed that her words came just a fraction of an instant later than the movement of her lips. The effect was as jarring as watching a movie in which the audio was out of sync with the actor's mouth. And, there was something else. It was like she wasn't comfortable with the words she spoke, like she was translating each word as she uttered it.
 
She continued, throughout, to glare at me.
 
"Why am I recovered?" I asked. "Why'd you let me? Are you trying to fatten me up before you eat me?"
 
She cocked her head.
 
I lay back. "What's the matter? Cat's got your tongue?" My words definitely disturbed her. Gingerly, I rolled over to my side, facing her. "You don't understand a word I'm saying, do you?"
 
She smiled a very brief smile. "The tables say you will come among my people speaking words of our language but in a way we don't understand." Again, she was speaking in that puzzling, out-of-sync way. "Why would I eat you? And, the cat … why would a cat get my tongue? You are trying to confound me."
 
Clearly, my words, or how I used them, were troubling to her. And, now I knew why they troubled her. But, to improve my chance at surviving there were still many questions I needed the answers to. One thing I knew for sure: her imagination had endowed me with superhuman powers, powers to confound her people. To her, I was probably a superhuman, evil entity and it was her responsibility to destroy me. Why was it her sole responsibility? Where were her people? She'd been away from them for days, perhaps a week or more, yet no one had come to see if she was alright. Of course, I had been unconscious for most of that time. So, a lot could have happened that I wasn't aware of. For the time being, though, I had to be very circumspect in trying to get the answers I needed. It was too soon to test my strength or stamina against the sharp tip of a spear, however makeshift. I had to proceed cautiously.
 
"It's called slang," I ventured. "I'm not trying to confound you. It's just the way we talk."
 
"Why?" she asked, and I saw it was out of curiosity, not frustration. "I see your cat, but I don't see him getting a tongue. What will he do with a tongue?"
 
It was my turn to be frustrated, but I had to remember she was carrying the spear. There was something about the way she said: "I see your cat." She didn't mean: "I understand about the cat." I was sure of that. What she probably meant—and quite literally—was "I have the picture in my mind of a cat." I was confident that was a slip-up on her part.
 
"You say this person is going to come into your village, or town, or city and mix in with—"
 
"Mix in …" she repeated, and shook her head.
 
"You know, move among your people speaking the same language you speak—but… but …" and, I purposely trailed off.
 
"Yes! Yes, but in a way we don't understand."
 
I would test my idea. "So, he carrots English, like you. What could he radish that you wouldn't understand?" With each vagrant word I inserted, I concentrated on visualizing the vegetable. If I was right she would get the drift of the sentence contextually.
 
"What is this Eng-Glish?" she asked, after a glance at the ceiling.
 
I feigned a smile of condescension "Why, it's what you and I have been …" Here, I took on the body language of one who was searching for the right word, while I concentrated on the image I had substituted.
 
"We have been carroting this Eng-Glish?"
 
I smiled and nodded the affirmative, but energetically thought—"No!"
 
She scowled. This carroting … it is slang, isn't it? Kalushe! It's like the cat that gets my tongue." She grasped the spear, which she had been comfortable enough to leave resting in her lap for a while. She tightened her grip on it now. "Kalushe! You are confounding me. The Table said you would confound my people." She jabbed the spear at me, keeping it barely out of my reach. "Down!"
 
I deferred to the wisdom of her spear and rolled to my back.
 
Staring up at the ceiling, I wondered just what I had gained with my little charade. What I was sure of was that English was not her language. Furthermore, had my language been German, or French, that would be what she would have communicated with me in. If I were correct on both I'd have to conclude that she had the amazing ability to sponge up not only my words but also my thoughts, and somehow convert them to her own language symbols to understand them, then translate them back into English. That might explain her frustration over my use of slang. It slowed down or stopped the process of finding the corresponding symbol in her language. Even in the best of circumstances there was a definite lag time which accounted for the strange lack of synchronization between the spoken word and the lips that spoke them.
 
Moving my eyes more than my head, I was able to see her, sitting cross-legged on the other side of the fire. Her eyes were now closed, but her hand still gripped the spear lying across her lap and her body seemed poised in readiness. Bringing my gaze back to the ceiling, I listened to the sea drawing in like a deep breath over and around the unseen rocks below. And then like an exhale or a long sigh it withdrew. I found myself listening intently.
 
The sea, on some emotional level, was trying to tell me something. Why was I suddenly feeling a deep affinity with the sea?  When I first woke on the sand of this strange place, my trousers and my shoes were wet … so, I evidently had come from the sea. I was a good distance away from the surf, though. Had I fallen off a ship, somehow washed up to the shore and then stumbled or crawled as far from the water as I could before I passed out? That was the only thing that made any sense. It puzzled me that I had no shirt on when I woke.
 
"You can put it on now," she said, startling me.
 
Something landed in a soft heap beside me. I held up a gray polyester shirt, wrinkled, salt-stained, but wearable.
 
One more question to put with the others. Tomorrow I could begin again looking for answers.
 
 


Chapter 2
SOME ANSWERS ... MORE QUESTIONS

By Jay Squires

If you're just joining The Trining, well, you missed out on a lot that happened on the crimson red sea shore, where the protagonist awakens sans memory, and not too much more clothing.  His enemy is clinging to his back and there is a debilitating wound on his side.  He's able to throw the enemy off his back, flatten her with a right hook, but ends up passed out from his wound.  In her cave, he goes in and out of consciousness and ultimately discovers the wound is healed—but the enemy who succored him back to health reigns over him with a makeshift spear and considerable attitude.
 

Chapter Two
 
 "Up! We must go."
 
I opened my eyes to see her standing at my feet. She held the spear angled to the ground near my knee. I was hungry. I hadn't eaten since she put something in my mouth—how long had it been?—probably two or three days earlier. Awkwardly, I got to my feet and stood there reeling until I got my bearings. "I need to eat something."
 
Without a word, she moved to the other side of the now-smoldering fire pit, withdrew something hidden behind one of the stones that encircled it and returned to me.
 
"Here," she said, extending a brownish, porous object. It looked like what she had been gnawing on during one of my brief bouts of consciousness.
 
"What is it?" Cool to the touch, I brought it to my nose and sniffed it. It smelled damp, earthy.

"It will give you strength."
 
"Strength is good," I answered, "but meat strength—you know, something that will stick to my ribs."
 
Not surprisingly, this caused her to cock her head and her over-sized lids to blink. "Meat," she said, less -- I was sure -- as a question and more a flat enunciation to allow an extra microsecond for her mental Funk and Wagnalls to pluck the correct definition and dispatch it to her vocal chords, vibrating madly in anticipation of her answer: "My people do not eat flesh."
 
"But, my people do!" I told her, with more animation than I had expected or that prudence would intend.
 
She tightened her palm around her spear.
 
"How about fish?" I asked. I felt a glimmer of hope as we both waited for her words to be ready.
 
"No fish!" she said with finality in her voice and a fear in her eyes that told me it was more than a question of flesh. I took a moment before proceeding with the subject of breakfast. I wanted to tuck away in my bag of useful information the observation of how suddenly a fearful impulse caused her pupils to dilate and almost eclipse the entirety of her golden irises. I couldn't understand, now, precisely how this could be useful, but the fact that she evidently had no conscious control over it, being alert to it might give me an edge.
 
"Eggs," I offered as a kind of last ditch stand. It wasn't flesh.

I waited.
 
"Show me this egg," she finally said.
 
"I will look for one." But, I remade the observation that I hadn't seen any seagulls here—or any other bird, for that matter. I tried to remember other creatures who laid eggs. I was sure poultry would be out of the question. Wherever we were off to today, I would make it my constant vigil to find an egg to show her. As long as it was fresh and unfertile, I could build a good case for its contents not being flesh.
 
She nodded her head to the object I held. "Eat. We must go." Motioning me ahead of her, she stood behind with the spear pointed toward my back. "There," she indicated with her head, and I gnawed on the bland root-like object as we proceeded into the shadows beyond the fire pit at the back of the cave. "That way," she pointed with the tip of the spear. I followed the walls of the cave angling off to the left. The soft sand turned into rock clusters under my feet. I maneuvered them carefully, realizing how easy it would be to misstep and twist my ankle. I could hear her breathing behind me as I plodded on, my right hand using the cold cave wall as a guide through the darkness.
 
"It would be too much to hope for," I ventured, "that you'd have a flashlight."
 
She appeared to ignore me.
 
I continued to slide my hand along the face of the wall until I felt it curve to the right and at once a beam of light illuminated the opposing wall. A smaller tunnel snaked off in roughly the direction we had been going in, but the tip of her spear on my shoulder indicated I turn to the right. I followed the light with my eyes to its source, an opening at the far end leading to the outside. The cave walls narrowed until they converged at the fissure. The only way out. I glanced over my shoulder, only to feel the whack of the spear shank on my arm.

"Really!" I snarled. "What's your problem?"

The blow was actually delivered with so little power that there was no pain. But her intent was to keep me imbalanced and in my place. I was pretty sure I could overpower her, even though I wasn’t up to my full strength. But to what end? She was my only source of intelligence. As much as it offended me, I needed her.
 
We approached the opening. It was irregular in dimension, probably a foot and a half at its widest spot and a foot at its narrowest. Weeds grew in tangles up from the pebbles and rock clusters. I did some rudimentary calculations. If I could go through at all, it would have to be sideways … and there was the danger I might wedge myself in so snugly that I wouldn't be able to continue on or come back. If that happened even her spear would fail to urge me through.
 
"If this is the way you come and go," I offered, "why don't you go first so I can see how you do it?"
 
"Go," she said, simply.
 
"But, if I'm on the outside and you're still in here, how do you know I won't just take off?"
 
"You would die by yourself."
 
She was nothing if not confident of her position of dominance. It wouldn't hurt to let her keep that false sense of power until I was ready to make my move.
 
"Go!" she repeated.
 
I rolled my eyes, took a breath and edged my left hip into the chasm. I wanted my right arm free and facing the inside in case she got impatient and crazy with her spear. I maneuvered my left thigh at an angle toward the outside, and then pivoted my hip back and forth on its axis, feeling myself slipping, inch by inch toward the center. Next, I started inching my shoulder and chest in. Approaching panic, I pushed with all my strength toward the outside. Just as I feared, I was wedged in tightly. I tried pulling back toward the interior. Not a quarter inch, either way. My nose scraped against the wall as I turned helplessly to face her. "Can't breathe," I mouthed.
 
She laid the spear down and approached me. Each of my inhalations was shallower than the one before. She calmly rubbed her palms together, and then inserted her fingertips between my back and the wall.
 
"Breathe," she demanded.
 
"I—I can't!" With my words, my chest wall seemed to collapse more toward my spine.
 
"Yes, breathe," she said again.

I felt her hand sliding, easily now, in an up and down movement, from my waist to my shoulder blades. And, I could breathe.
 
She removed her hand. "Now, go through."
 
I seemed to be wearing the crevice like a loose garment now. It was uncanny. I easily rotated my head 180 degrees and looked out at the sunlit slope of land beyond the opening. And with a shimmying movement I was through.
 
She and her spear followed me effortlessly and she stood facing me. Her enormous eyes seemed to consider me, as for the first time.

"What is it?" I asked her.
 
She looked down as though studying something on the ground behind me, and then she looked up at me and for a moment I thought I saw her eyes begin to rim with tears. But with two blinks of those over-sized eyelids, they were dry. "You think," she began, "that I would let you trick me?"
 
I raised my shoulders, and then dropped them in a slow half-shrug, trying to figure out what she meant.
 
"You think you would make me believe you do not have Kunsin." Suddenly, before I could possibly react, she slapped my arm with the spear shank.
 
"Now, quit that!" I said, more loudly than the ineffectiveness of the blow warranted. "You have no reason to strike me. I don't know who you think I am, or what I've done wrong. You think I tricked you! Why would I trick you? And … how? I don't understand how I would trick you. I don't get what you're saying I did. What did I do?”
 
She stared at me without speaking.
 
"What is this Kunsin you're talking about?"
 
She corrected my pronunciation, but it sounded exactly the same.
 
I tried it again. "Kunsin."
 
"Kunsin," she said, and again, more loudly, "Kunsin!" as she brought the shank down toward my arm. This time I intercepted it and easily wrestled it away from her.

"I told you not to do that." I held it out of her reach.
 
Her once proud and defiant shoulders slumped as she stared at the ground. This time I had no doubt about her eyes filling. A few tears dropped to the ground before she sniffed and seemed to be getting her bearings. She got to her full height and threw her shoulders back. She looked steadily into my eyes, then, with a roll of hers, looked up and to the side, exposing her neck. "I am ready," she said. "I am ready, Pondria!"
 
"There you go again! Pondria!" It was my turn to feel empowered. Holding the spear above my head in both hands, with a shout I brought the shank of it down against the thigh of my right leg which I was simultaneously raising. I let out a yowl of pain as it rebounded off my thigh. Hoping she would take my outcry of pain as a sort of victory celebration, I flung the spear with all my might down the hillside and into the scrub brush. "Now, who is this Pondria you are calling me?" I almost finished it with "woman!" as a final display of power, but thought against it. I still needed some questions answered and that would be best handled if we weren't on a dominance/submission mode.
 
She brought her eyes back to mine and I saw in them a look of perplexity mixed with just a touch of relief. A trace of a smile crept into her lips as she glimpsed what I was not aware of at the time. I had been massaging the feeling back into my right thigh. I quickly withdrew my hand but it was too late. Her smile turned into an outright laugh … which must have been contagious since I began laughing too.
 
"So," I said, once I started to gain some control over myself. "I hope you're not disappointed I'm not this Pondria."
 
Her control was slower in coming as she was doubled over in laughter.
 
"It's good to see you laugh," I said. "It's good that we laughed together. I hope it means we can begin to trust each other. Do you think so?"
 
She straightened up, still grinning, but my words apparently caused her to compose herself rapidly. A troubled look replaced the smile. "The tables warn," she said, with a sigh, "that Pondria will move like sweet-tasting water among my people and my people will drink the water and find it refreshing to their spirit. And even while they want more of the sweet tasting water, a slow poison begins to creep into their spirit." Either I was getting used to her speech patterns or she no longer looked like she was doing an abysmal job of lip-syncing She stopped and seemed to be searching my eyes.
 
"You do want to believe me, don't you?" I asked her.
 
She was perfectly still for a long moment and then she nodded.
 
"If I were Pondria, and as evil as you say he is, wouldn't I have killed you when you asked me to?"
 
She didn't answer, but she seemed to be considering it.
 
"Oh! And, if I had all the Ku- Kun—"
 
"Kunsin," she assisted.
 
"Kunsin—if I had his Kunsin—which I'm guessing—what is it?—a kind of power?"
 
"It is. Power, yes … You would call it a mighty power!"
 
"A mighty power," I repeated. “Would you say it was a power strong enough for the great Pondria to break a spear across his mighty leg?"
 
Without warning her body convulsed again in laughter. She raised a supplicating hand. "No—no, don't!—no!" begging me not to make her laugh. And, then she totally gave into it, slumping to the ground.
 
"It wasn't that funny," I scolded her, but with a grin on my face.
 
"Yes, yes it was." She choked, recovered. "It was very funny."
 
I knelt beside her and put my hand lightly on her shoulder. "Okay, from your standpoint I guess it would have been."
 
As though she had for the first time become aware of the pressure of my hand, she glanced over at my arm, angling down to her and then up to my face. For a moment she looked confused and then she scrambled to her feet. "We must go."
 
"Sure," I acquiesced. "Where?"
 
"This way." Gathering her white gown about her, she traversed the narrow path that hugged the base of the mountain, inside which our cave was housed. I followed behind her. Not nearly as fleet-of-foot as she, once I almost took an embarrassing tumble off the hillside. I wouldn't likely have been hurt, but I was feeling a rather strong urge for redemption at this point. Depending on the pitch of my voice or the tangle of arms and legs when I fell, it might reside up there in her memory alongside the spear incident. There was only one spear incident. It deserved to stand alone and not be rivaled by another humiliation.
 
"You know, you saved my life twice," I said, watching the pathway for any loose rocks or vegetation that might trip me up, "so it would be nice if I knew the name of the person I owe my life to."
 
She didn't respond. Her coolness toward me confirmed my feeling that she had misinterpreted the hand I placed on her shoulder. I wasn't sure I could explain how it found its way there, either, only that it wasn't brought about by any romantic feelings toward her.
 
"I mean, what harm can there be in calling you by your name?"
 
Nothing.
 
"Then I'll name you myself. Last chance. No? Okay, let's see … you seem like a Norma to me. Norma? Sure, okay, I'll call you Norma."
 
She pointed to a place ahead where the path widened as though to accommodate a large boulder. There was still enough space to get around it—which we did—and on the other side there was a spacious opening into the mountainside. She turned and faced me with a brief smile. "The other way in," she said.
 
"You're saying I could have gone out this opening, Norma?" I tried to keep the edge out of my voice. "Instead of almost becoming a permanent part of the wall over there?"
 
"Pondria would have gone through easily."
 
"But, I'm not—oh! So you knew right then!"
 
"I didn't know."
 
"You thought Pondria would have gone so far as to die, wedged in the wall, just so he could deceive you and your people into believing he was not Pondria?"
 
She blinked.
 
"But, wait," I went on, "if Pondria was a dead hunk of meat stuck in that wall how could he confound your people into believing the water was fresh instead of poisoned?"
 
"I wanted to believe you were not Pondria, but Pondria would have used my wanting to believe against me, just as he would have used it against my people."
 
"But the thing with the spear and my leg … that made a believer out of you."
 
She made a snorting noise and a kind of hiccup and held back the hilarity with a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide open and pleading.
 
"Okay," I grinned. "And when you laughed so completely and uncontrollably, that was when I began to believe in you, too… in us … in us not being enemies. And that was when I put my hand on your shoulder back there. I didn't mean to confuse you."
 
"Axtilla," she said, so quickly it startled me.
 
"Axtilla?" I shook my head.
 
She tapped her upper chest with her palm. "Axtilla is my name."
 
"That's beautiful. Axtilla."
 
"What is your name?"
 
"I … don't know."
 
She brought her brows together. "Why?"
 
"I don't—I mean, I just don't know. I'm wondering why, too. Ever since the day I opened my eyes on the beach, I've been trying to remember my name. I don't remember it. I'm not even close to remembering it. What's more, I don't even remember where I came from. Isn't that strange? I don't know where I came from. I have no history. And yet ... I know wherever I came from, it's very different from your country, so that's a start, isn't it?"
 
I paused to see if any of this was registering with her. I could see it wasn't.
 
"Your ocean, for example, is deep red, not blue."
 
For just an instant, the word "ocean" seemed to make her shudder, but she recovered. "Why would it be blue?"
 
"Because that's its color." A rhyme popped into my mind. "In 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue."
 
"Your words make no sense," she said, clearly getting annoyed. "What is this Columbus?"
 
"He discovered America. Every school kid remembers the date by memorizing that little rhyme." I thought about what I just said. "Wait! Then, at least I know I came from America." I leaned against the boulder and looked past her into the cave. Would I have to wait for bits and pieces of my identity to pop into my mind, like the poem did?
 
"Where are we, Axtilla?" I asked her. "Where is this place?"
 
She stared at me, puzzled.
 
"And, where are all your people? You mentioned your people and yet I haven't seen any of them. You're young. Your parents must be worried about you — well, unless you're married. Are you married, Axtilla?" Each question seemed to strike her like individual blows and she now reeled under their cumulative impact. "I'm sorry, Axtilla ... did I say something? — Obviously I said something that upset you.”

She tried to recover. "I am fine," she said, straightening her slumped shoulders.
 
"Well, sure …" I assured her, "but—"
 
"I'm alone." She announced this with a stony finality.
 
Her demeanor warned me I was broaching sensitive ground; still, I had to ask. "But, your people …"
 
"I have no people!" she shot, like a bullet that was meant to curtail any further discussion.
 
I dodged the bullet. "But your parents, Axtilla."
 
"Dead."
 
"I'm sorry. But, there must be someone. Why is there no one here with you?"
 
"I told you, I am alone."
 
"But—”
 
"My people" — she looked up, through glassy eyes, as if searching for the right word—"My people — b-banished me here."
 

 

Author Notes Glorified appreciation for the luscious artwork provided by FanArt's GaliaG


Chapter 3
HIS TURN TO HEAL

By Jay Squires

 WHAT YOU MAY HAVE MISSED:  Mended now, our nameless protagonist and the spear-wielding young lady who holds him captive leave the cave through a crevice in the far wall.  He fears for his life after he gets wedged in and is unable to breathe, but using a strange magic in her hands, his captor is able to widen the chasm so he can slip through.  Thinking he is Pondria—who, according to her people's legend comes from the sea to beguile them with his words in preparation of defeating them—she had been testing him: if he were the true Pondria he would have used his kunsin (magic) to extricate himself.  Now she is truly confused!
 
In a critical moment of his captor's inattention he wrestles away her spear and instead of killing her (as she expects), he attempts to break the spear over his knee and fails; the clownish act of his hopping around, in pain, on one leg later draws them together.  He asks her name and she reluctantly gives it as Axtilla.  He admits he doesn't know his own name.  When he asks her where her people are, she stammers—in a moment of high emotion—that she is banished.
 
ENJOY THE CONTINUING ADVENTURE …
 

 Chapter Three
  
My people banished me here. Those words formed an uneasy loop in my brain as I followed her along the path's now slight decline toward the level ground of the mountain's base about a hundred yards ahead. I knew it was a sensitive subject, but it was important for me to broach it soon. Unless this was an Island, far from her home land, there would likely be guards patrolling the area. If I unknowingly wandered outside the parameters, I could be shot while out on something as innocent as a quest for the elusive eggs.
 
I was having a hard time wrapping my brain around what this sensitive, young woman could possibly have done to warrant banishment. No one got banished anymore! Banishment was for things like acts of treason. It was a last resort when a person's actions were a threat to the nation. How could she be a threat to her people? Later on, when we settled in for the evening, I'd get to the bottom of it with her. In the meantime, some lighter fare to talk to her about. Something like the reason for our leaving the cave today. I figured it would be scavenging for food, perhaps wood for the fire. Whatever it was, she hadn't planned it to be at a leisurely pace. She had an agenda that she didn't have a need to make me privy to and a time frame to complete it in.
 
We were approaching a bushy area that grew out from the hillside and across half the path. I was at the point of initiating some small talk about the possible availability of eggs in the bush, when I heard a hissing sound. She gasped, reached down for her ankle; losing her balance she fell into the brush, which collapsed in on her and she and it tumbled down the hillside.
 
"Axtilla!" I screamed, scrambling down the slope after her, bent over spider-like, trying to keep my balance while keeping my eye on her. What seemed like a full minute probably didn't take more than ten seconds before we both stopped our slide—she first and I a split second after—rather roughly against a hollowed-out tree trunk, lying across our path. It gave slightly against our impact, but held.
 
Getting to my knees, I began ripping off the brambles, leaves and branches in which she was entangled.  Soon I had her free. I laid her on her back. Her face and arms were scratched and bleeding. She was whimpering as she had after I knocked her unconscious. Also, her amber irises performed their comical dance, as they did then, bobbing beneath and ricocheting out from under her half-closed eyelids. I didn't have time to observe the phenomenon with anything but passing wonder, back then, because she regained consciousness.

Now there was time, but I had a more pressing concern than curiosity.
 
I tapped my fingers against her cheek. "Axtilla," I said. "Can you hear me?" As if on cue, she moaned. Her irises were still bouncing around, madly.
 
"Can you move your arms or legs? Can you hear me," I asked again. I remembered then the hissing sound and her grabbing for her ankle—it was her right ankle. Raising the bottom of her gown, which had wrapped itself around her leg, I examined that ankle, turning it one way and another until I found what I was looking for. On the outside, roughly an inch above the ankle bone, I saw two puncture holes. The skin was blanched in a quarter-sized circle around the holes. I didn't know about the wildlife in this area. But this looked like a snake bite and while I didn't remember ever knowing anything about first-aid it seemed fundamental that the poison needed to come out.
 
I searched the ground around me for anything sharp, sifting my hands through the loose dirt and leaves. The rocks were not plentiful and those I did find were small and rounded. I broke off a brittle branch from the trunk. At its break one side was jagged. It would have to do. There would be no way to sterilize it, but getting the poison out was more important now than potential infection.
 
Stretching out the surface between thumb and forefinger, I took a calming breath and drew the branch across the circle, opening a slit between the punctures. Bits of splintery material flaked off and I blew them from the fresh wound. I heard her in some far-off background whimpering like a puppy. Not knowing whether it was necessary or not, but having a memory from somewhere prompting me, I brought the branch across from a different angle, making an X across the circle; the puncture holes were where the two lines crossed. Bending over her leg, I put my mouth over the oozing wound and sucked until I tasted the bitter liquid on and around my tongue. It immediately began to numb. Careful not to let any of it trickle down my throat, I spat it onto the ground, bent over her ankle again and repeated the process. She continued to make her puppy sounds.
 
I lay down on my back beside her. Lifting her head, I cradled it between my shoulder and chest. I was ashamed I didn't know what the next step should be. If it had been a loss of blood I was sure I'd have had to apply a tourniquet, but where? In this case I could make a tourniquet from my shirt, but what if she needed an uninterrupted flow of blood to the wound. I’d make it worse. I lay my palm on her forehead and cheek, then on her arm. Her skin was warm, not clammy. Doesn't that mean she's not in shock?
 
Other matters pressed in on me. It would be dark in a few hours. And, with the darkness would be the cold. Assuming I could get us both up the hill and on the path, we were at least a mile from the warmth of the cave. I was still weak from my ordeal. Definitely not a hundred percent. There was no way I could drag her up the hillside, hoist her into my arms and trudge along that narrow path to the cave. No, I'd have to wait for her to come to. Suppose that didn't happen until after dark. I had to assume the worst and hope for the best. I'd have to plan for us to spend the night right here, pressed up against this log.
 
What had to be number one on the agenda was clearing an area for a fire and gathering enough wood for the night, and then—something that would be harder—finding the means to light it.
 
I'd check out Axtilla one last time. She moaned as I slipped my arm from under her and eased her head to the ground. Her breathing was regular. Moving down to her ankle, I reached out my hand, gingerly. Heat radiated from the wound I'd made. Was it my fear and dread coloring my judgment, or in just these few minutes had her ankle started swelling? That couldn't be a good sign. There was no water. The only other treatment I had heard of to combat infection was to cauterize the wound. Dry twigs were abundant. There would be dried parts of this hollowed-out log. I reached in it and broke off a chunk from the inner wall. This would do. Next, I'd have to find a couple of rocks. With a little luck, I'd be able to strike them together enough times that an eventual spark, landing in the kindling, would start smoldering. Then I would fan it into flame. A lot of ifs proceeded from a couple of rocks that I wasn't sure I could find.

My every instinct told me that something had to be done, though, and soon.
 
On my hands and knees, I ventured out away from the log, careful to not put my weight against a loose part of the terrain that might send me sliding and rolling all the way to the bottom. I noticed about twenty yards from me a small mound bulging out from the slope. It could be a root. But it could also be a rock. My legs were starting to feel the strain of keeping them tensed against losing my balance. Moving closer now, I extended an arm and brushed the leaves and other debris from the surface.
 
It was a rock—that was good! But it was larger than I'd hoped, and securely anchored in the hard soil. Not good …. With my fingers, I dug around the base of the side facing the down-slope. I leveraged myself as best I could and bending over it I rocked it back and forth. It seemed to be giving way a little. I dug deeper around the side of it and rocked it again. After about five minutes of rocking and digging, I was able to slide my hand down the back side of it and, with comparative ease, pluck it out.
 
I left it to retrieve on my return and continued on. The next discovery was far less dramatic and tiring. I was getting surer in my balance and was able to crawl at a faster pace to a fairly sizable bush concealing a ravine that snaked down the hillside to the bottom. On the wall of the ravine closest to me were three small rocks, there for the taking. Each was about the size of a grapefruit and half the size of the rock I'd spent precious time digging out.
 
With one gripped in each hand, I clomped like an exhausted Clydesdale, slamming one stone hoof and then the other into the soil, pulling myself forward, and then repeating the process, passing the larger rock on my way back to the log and Axtilla.
 
I leaned against the log and caught my breath. She hadn't moved since I left. Her chest was rapidly rising and falling. I didn't have to get any closer to see her ankle had swollen. Sweat beaded her forehead. Her irises still fluttered under her half-closed lids. I squeezed my eyes shut. Think! Think! There was no water. Nothing to clean the wound. Cauterizing it was the only alternative—if I had the guts to pull it off. A fire! I need to start a fire.
 
The sun was behind the mountain, whose cold shadow slipped down the hillside toward us. In about an hour it would be dusk; in three, darkness would make any moving about treacherous. I needed to get started. I gathered twigs, small pieces of bark and a handful of dried leaves. Clearing a space, I dug down through the loose dirt to the firmer soil beneath. In the center of the cleared area I crumbled some of the dried leaves, then broke up some of the twigs and put them loosely on top of the leaves.
 
Axtilla moaned and mumbled something. I shot a glance at her. "Hang in there, Axtilla," I whispered, staring at her a moment longer, before continuing the prep work. "We're gonna get you through this, you hear me?"

I held the rocks, tested their heft, and then brought them together smartly. Nothing. At an angle would be better. I tried that a few times, but the rocks were hard to control and my forearms began to tire. This could take some time. I didn't want my muscles to cramp up on me. Straddling the tinder-pile, I braced my left elbow against my inner knee, holding the rock a few inches from the pile. I brought the other one against it with a glancing blow. I clacked them together a second, then a third time. On the fourth pass a spark shot out but missed the pile. A start! I put the rocks down and shook my hands, wiggling the stiffness out of my fingers. I briefly massaged my lower back before retrieving the rocks and resumed my efforts to coax another spark from them.
 
It was getting dark now. I realized I had developed a muscle awareness of the placement of the rocks so I could crack them together most effectively in the growing darkness.
Axtilla moaned somewhere to my right; I felt so helpless. Sitting here bashing these rocks together was the only thing that made any sense. We needed fire to keep warm—crack!—and perhaps to keep wild animals away. I wasn't too sure—crack!—about cauterizing the wound. Would I even be man enough to do it?
 
In the midst of my helplessness and self-doubt I brought the rocks together and two blue sparks spit out onto the pile. I dropped the rocks and began fanning the tinder. Before I could see any evidence of a flame, a faint smell of smoke teased my nostrils. Then a tendril of flame rose from the crumbled leaves and wove through the twigs.

Other flames rose.

I gathered kindling from where I piled it nearby. There were some broken branches up to an inch in diameter, but most were smaller. When I turned back to feed the tinder, I noticed the leaves were glowing a pulsing red-orange. I gently laid some of the smaller branches onto the now fully engaged fire and went back for more. I knew when I added the generous chunks of bark from the decayed log that we had warmth, light and protection for the night. The bark was close to an inch thick, so I figured a dozen or so would get us through. I could always break more off the log as needed.
 
Time to attend to other matters. I could see by the fire light that the skin was stretched so tightly on Axtilla's ankle, swollen to half again its size, that it was ready to split like an over- ripe fruit. Her breathing was rapid and labored. The branch I used to perform the earlier surgery lay at her feet. I picked it up, examined it. The tip was black with dried blood. I thought of the X I had carved across the wound and smiled a grim smile. Did the good doctor's surgery spread a new poison in you, Axtilla? And, would my next bungling act finish you off? You were the great healer when I lay dying. And, that was when you thought I was your enemy. Now you are dying and I am about to do something that may speed up the process. Axtilla, I am so sorry!
 
I held the tip of the branch in the fire, pulling it out every minute or so to check its progress. After about five minutes it was ready—and my heart was in my throat! I took one more look at Axtilla's face … and dropped the branch. Her head was turned in my direction. She stared at me through huge wide-open eyes, amber irises perfectly still. Or, were those eyes really staring at me?
 
Extending a trembling hand to her neck, I placed two fingers against the cool, moist flesh.
 
"What are you doing?"
 
 


Chapter 4
KOJUTAKE

By Jay Squires

 
This is what you missed if you didn't read Chapter Three: The man (who at this point is nameless) and his former captor/healer, Axtilla, are out of the cave and on the trail that hugs the mountain. Something in a bush that extends out over the path bites her ankle and she tumbles down the hill with the man scrambling after her. The descent levels to a plateau and they thump to rest against a log. Axtilla is unconscious. The man carves an X over the bite and sucks out the poison and then, realizing it will soon be dark, goes looking for rocks he can use to start a fire. After quite an ordeal he gets the fire blazing—but not before he realizes that Axtilla is fading fast. Her ankle is swollen, she is still unconscious and moaning. Retrieving the stick he used to carve the X, he gets it red-hot so he can cauterize the wound. Trembling, he turns to her with the glowing stick. He drops the stick. Her head is turned toward him and her eyes are open, staring blankly!  As he reaches for the carotid artery to get her pulse, she asks: "What are you doing?"                                              And now ... Enjoy the new adventure!
 

 Chapter Four
 
 
I jerked back as though I'd been touched by a live electrical wire. "What am I doing?" I parroted, but an octave higher. In a more modulated voice I added, "I thought you were dead, Axtilla. I was checking to see if you had a pulse. It didn't seem too much to ask, at a time like that …"

With some difficulty, she had already pulled herself up to a nearly seated position against the log and she now cocked her head in puzzlement as though waiting to see how I would finish. Thinking I had a logical argument with a reasonable conclusion, I went on: "I mean, what were you doing, just lying there staring at me, Axtilla? And, couldn't you guess that when you spoke you'd be scaring the daylights out of me?"

She blinked.

Suddenly it dawned on me that hers wasn't the behavior of a person who, just a few minutes earlier, had been on her death bed. "Your ankle!" Her garment was pulled over it. "Let me see your ankle!"

Without a word she brought her fingers down and pulled the garment aside.

Nothing could prepare me for the miracle I saw. The ankle that I was just about to perform a second goofball surgery on bore no trace of her injury other than the pink X that I had so crudely carved there, like my initial on the trunk of a tree. "How?" I puzzled aloud. "It was so swollen it was about to burst. I was—I was getting the fire built so I could get that branch hot enough—"

"I know."

"What do you mean? You know what?"

She took a labored breath. "I knew what you were doing."

"No, you couldn't." I shook my head, vehemently. "You were unconscious."

"But, I knew. You crawled over there,"—she lifted a weak arm and pointed, then lowered it to the ground—"over there, where you dug up a big rock and then went farther; and you brought two rocks from there back to here."

"No! No, no!" I couldn't accept it. "I don't know what you did to fix your ankle. But, then I saw you do other things that didn't make any sense, either. Axtilla, your eyes were bouncing all over the place, like you were having a seizure. They were doing that before I went looking for the rocks and they were doing it when I came back. Are you saying you took some time off in the middle to watch me?"

"I never stopped watching you—Doctor X." At the look on my face, she raised a weak hand to cover her smile.
I stared at her. It would have been nice to have something to say.

The smile left her face. "Just know I would have died right there, and very soon, if you hadn't cut open the thrax's bite and sucked out the venom."

"Thrax?"

"Very deadly. You saved my life." She smiled, this time without covering her mouth. "Doctor. X." Closing her eyes, her head lolled to the side. She held that position, breathing slowly, regularly until I was sure she was asleep. Suddenly, her eyes opened, and she looked at me, adding, "Doctor X … Now, I have a name for you. Do you like your new name?"

I smiled. "There could be worse names. Now, go back to sleep."
#
Leaning back against the log, next to Axtilla, the fire blazing to our left, I listened to periodic, distant thunder. Each time the rumbling was punctuated by Axtilla's body uncoiling into a spasm, then going limp. She mumbled words I didn't understand, stopping when the rumbling stopped. The thunder, if that's what it was, was out over the ocean, far enough out that there wasn't any lightning associated with it. It was probably my imagination, or the haze brought about by the fire, but the faint contour of the mountain against the sky seemed to glow in a pulsing pale blue outline until the rumbling faded and the shape of the mountain disappeared in the background.

She mumbled something again. It sounded like Kojutake; then, her eyes snapped open. "We must go!"

"No," I protested. "You need to rest. I have a good fire going and lots of bark to feed it through the night."

"We must go!" she said, more determined. "We must go to the cave."

"Listen, you could hardly lift your arm a few minutes ago—and I'm too weak from whatever happened to me to help you."

Her eyes were in the direction of the mountain. She was trembling.

"What is it?" I asked. "Is it the thunder? Is that what's frightening you?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No! Not what you call thunder. I have not seen thunder, but we cannot be here when Kojutake arrives. We must go to the caves."

"But, what is this Kojutake? Or, is it a who? Who or what is this Kojutake?"

My not-too-carefully-concealed disdain for what smacked of ignorance or superstition apparently did not even penetrate her awareness. She stared unwaveringly toward the mountain until the next rumbling visibly possessed her. She shot to her feet, wrapping her gown around her in one fluid movement. Before I could reach out a hand to stop her, she was leaning into the incline, scrabbling up the hillside, now on all fours.

"Axtilla," I shouted after her. "This is madness. Come back." I was in pursuit, within a body-length behind her. She had no intention of coming back. In fact, if I should catch up to her I'd have a fight on my hands trying to keep her from dragging me in her wake. She was that determined to get to the path. What she didn't count on, though, was that the sandy topsoil covering the hard incline beneath didn't share her fear-borne zeal—nor did gravity's inflexible law. It took only one foothold for it to give beneath her. Her knee slammed into the hard, sliding surface, followed by her chest. By then it was too late. Her body began its descent and I, behind her, having nowhere to go, got swept into her slide as we both were propelled down the hillside to where it plateaued and we rolled the rest of the way to our starting place—the log.

"Well…" I said, dusting myself off.

She turned her smudged face to me and the tears started. Her body shuddered as she sank to the ground, buried her face in her hands and sobbed. I sat down beside her, my back pushed up against the log.
#
The thunder was getting closer and as it rumbled, Axtilla's body again stiffened, but then relaxed against my shoulder; we both stared up at the mountain's silhouette against the dancing pulses of powder- blue and silver developing on the other side.

Our shoulders had been touching ever since she stoically removed her hands from her face a few moments ago. She had taken a deep, but tattered breath, and scooted over next to me against the log.

It was as if her soul was in capitulation mode. She had been convinced that, without the protection of the cave, she was helpless against the powers that the Kojutake—whatever the Kojutake was—possessed. She had put all her hope for survival into the attempted climb up the hillside. When that failed, all hope that she could escape abandoned her. After a few moments of self-indulgence, she surrendered to her fate. The moment that happened, something strange seemed to envelope her. I had seen it before. When I wrestled the spear away from her, she at first panicked and then resolved to bare her neck to me. Had I not turned her tragedy to comic relief, she'd have prepared to go to her death with a kind of dignity in surrender. No, not a dignity in surrender, but a dignity in accepting her surrender.

"What I believe we have here," I ventured, "is the aurora borealis — the northern lights."

"How do you know this, Doctrex," she asked, running my new name together, "when you can't even remember where you came from?” She asked this while keeping her eyes turned toward the mountain.

I shrugged. "A good question. A mystery. But, it's tucked away somewhere in my memory. The aurora borealis does exist in my memory."

Without looking at me she said, "In the other person's memory."

Her words connected in an immediate and elemental way with something unwanted that tried to seep up into my consciousness while another force tried to push it down. "What—what other person?"

"The one who—" she cast a puzzled glance at me before looking back toward the mountain.

"Axtilla! What! The one who what?"

She took a breath, as if exasperated. "The one who died."

With her words, all thought stopped.

I found myself watching dumbly as isolated images and fragments of images tumbled willy-nilly through my mind.

A child, a boy, so serious, stoic, sadly devoid of humor, ageless and tragically heroic is at the center. He is the unmoving center—and sliding toward him, now, from the side, a young woman, mid-twenties, early thirties, fun-loving, beautiful; her image adheres, at one small point, to his image, causing hers to rock from side to side as though trying to work itself free.

I felt a sharp stab, palpable, a breath-taking stab of pain, watching it. As though I was the child. But, I was an observer. I was not an actor. I was part of the audience. I was powerless to control the images. I could only vacate the theater. But, for the moment I felt compelled to stay.

The image of the young lady breaks free and veers off, like a leaf or slip of paper borne away by the wind.

I felt violated and lonely with this departure. Who was she — my love? But, I was a child. Wait ... my mother? Why?—no! There was something sensual about—

The boy remains, visibly unchanged. But now his image is being attacked—no, not attacked, but unavoidably approached from all directions, above, below, from the side, in pairs, in larger groups, men, women, some images crumpled, some creased, torn or shredded——like photographs in various stages of disarray. Each image or group of images appears to swoop down, or slide or drift to him, one after the other, stay for indeterminate periods, then move away, some altered in appearance, some looking the same in leaving, some laughing some weeping. And one crumples in upon itself, forms a tight knot or ball until it simply disintegrates and falls like flakes to an unseen ground. The child is unmoved by all this.

I wanted to ruffle him, to shake him, to make him feel responsible for the consequences. What the consequences were I had no idea, but somehow the child was connected with the process and he was so uninvolved.

Then the images disappeared.

I must have been sleeping, dreaming. I opened my eyes to see Axtilla staring at me. When my eyes met hers she looked away, back up at the mountain. I followed her gaze. What had been glowing behind the mountain, leaving it in pulsing, silhouetted relief were now fingers of vaporous, powdery colors—silver to yellow to red.  They extended out then pulled back, and the rumbling had become a roar, deep like a lion's roar.  With the retreating of the fingers of light, even that softened.

"I remember it's called the aurora borealis. It's a beautiful light show, but it's harmless."

"In the world you don't remember it is harmless," she reproached. "But this is Kojutake. Kojutake exists. Tonight they will take us."

"They? Kojutake is a they?"

She ignored me. "You will want to think the Kojutake is only an illusion—just lights in the sky. To you it seems the right thing to do, to put this safe illusion—these lights in the sky—between you and the actual Kojutake. But seeing Kojutake for the power they are … you are going to find that is the right thing to do!" She paused and seemed to be looking inwardly and a smile twitched the corners of her mouth just before she went on. "And you need to always do the right thing, Doctrex, no matter how hard it is to do. You can't fight an illusion. Even though they will take us away, you must struggle with all you have to defeat the Kojutake. It is the right thing to do, you know …."

I felt the heat rising in me. "Axtilla, tell me … why does it feel like you're taunting me? And, this it's the right thing to do. Why do you keep saying that?"

"Don't you know, Doctrex?"

"If I knew, would I ask you?"

"Does it make you feel uncomfortable?"

I thought about it. It did make me feel uncomfortable. It was familiar, and in some strange way threatening. And, what was more unsettling was the feeling that she knew all about the life and the world I had forgotten … and she was merely teasing me with clues.
 
"Listen, Axtilla, if that really is Kojutake, as you think … and if it—they—are a threat to us, doesn't it make sense that we need to work together, that our life depends on our working together?"

She was staring at the mountain and appeared not to hear me.

"If they are as threatening as you say, why are you taking the time to play with my mind? How much do you know about me, about my life? Are you listening to me, Axtilla? Talk to me!"

While keeping her eyes fixed on the mountain, she said, "It would be better for you if you remember his past life yourself—"

"His!"

"—Yes, at the right time and in the amounts your mind can accept. I was taunting you. I was trying to gauge your strengths. But, you are right … we do need each other and we need each other's trust. I will talk with you."

"What do you mean by his past life?"

"Doctrex, the man whose life you want to remember is dead."

"Why would I want to remember another pers—I—I want to remember my … Oh, my God!"

"Yes, if it helps you to understand, then at one specific moment memory ended."

"No, Axtilla, I don't …"

"Of course you don't understand! How could you be dead and still be here and talking with me?"

"How did I—how did he die?"

She looked, searchingly, in my eyes and then down at her feet.

"Listen, Axtilla, I'm pretty sure there's nothing more you can say that will unhinge my mind." But, I felt compelled to add, "That doesn't mean that I completely buy what you're saying."

"He killed himself,” she said.
 

 
 

Author Notes I remain in awe of the gorgeous art of GaliaG


Chapter 5
THE TABLETS OF KYRN

By Jay Squires

First Time Visiting The Trining? In a nutshell, this is what happened in Chapter Four: The Amnesiac gets a name. Axtilla, weak but apparently healed, explains to the disbelieving amnesiac that she had been conscious the whole time. She describes everything he had done, including carving the X in her ankle and sucking out the poison. She dubs him Doctor X (which is later shortened to Doctrex).
 
A loud rumbling and a pulsating glow, out from behind the mountain, frightens Axtilla. Doctrex says it’s the aurora borealis—but she calls it Kojutake and tries to escape up the hillside in panic. He goes after her, but she loses her footing and both tumble back.
 
In the middle of a horrendous light show, she explains to Doctrex that he has no memory because his is the new body of a person who killed himself! AND NOW ... ENJOY THE ADVENTURE ....
 

 Chapter Five
 
A fist in the solar plexus couldn't have taken the breath out of me more completely. How tragically ironic! If I'm to believe her story, I so despised my life that I killed myself, only to find I'd bounced into another body, into another life. And I have a sense of belonging to this body so much that I have no memory of the other body. Bizarre! If true.

I don't know how long I sat there, absorbed in my thoughts. Finally, I asked, "Why here, Axtilla? Tell me, why did I end up here?"

"Many appeared here in the past. There will be many more in the future. You're asking why him? Here? Now?" She shrugged. "I don't know. There is a deciding intelligence. It is not a shared wisdom. I only know all who are deposited here are brothers to ones who died violent deaths. No one remembers everything from his brother; some remember more, some less. Some memories are sticky, others are slippery."

"So ..." I grappled for words. "So, Axtilla, you're saying the one who killed himself was my brother?"

"I’m trying to help you understand what is not otherwise easily understood. He was not actually your brother. It would be more correct to say you were really him, in consciousness, until the exact instant of his death. Why is it so hard to understand? Consciousness is not personal. Also, consciousness cannot die. It is the pure endless flow. When a vessel empties at death, the contents have to find another vessel."

"Or, what? Tell me that: what? What if there's no one around?"

Axtilla smiled a patient, non-judgmental, smile. "You think everything is framed in time and space, Doctrex?”

I stared at her a long moment. If my mouth wasn't actually open, in spirit it was. Who was this woman? Not fifteen minutes ago she was trembling and in tears. Then suddenly she became uncannily calm. These profoundly spiritual thoughts and words she just now expressed came out of the same mouth that, not too many days ago, spoke in monosyllables and with words out of sync with her lips. Was she of another world? It was like she was a vessel herself. Wisdom flowed into her and out through her mouth. Is she a goddess? I wondered.  Is that what she is: a goddess who can still fall prey to the bite of a very worldly predator?
 
"There's so much I’m curious to know, Axtilla. But there are things I must know if we're to keep from being destroyed by this Kojutake."
 
As though in response to hearing his, its or their name, something like a huge arm of the most awesome interplay of light and color shot a hundred yards out over the sloping hillside—swirling colors of blue and gold and red—attended by a terrifying, rolling roar. Then, as quickly, it withdrew its mighty arm and there was again a glowing nimbus of light framing the mountain.

"The aurora borealis?" Axtilla asked, softly.

"It's not the aurora borealis, I'll give you that. But, for being such a threat, did you see how the Kojutake turned tail when he came out and saw us?" Giving Axtilla a smile, I slapped one palm, a glancing blow off the other. "Just like that. Gotta hightail it back behind the mountain!"
I was hoping my antics broke the tension. I waited a few moments and then, I asked her, "How long do you figure before they pull out all their guns?"

She blinked three or four times, rapidly, probably waiting for the image to slip into her brain. "In your time … about an hour, maybe two hours."

I took a few large chunks of bark from the pile beside me and set them gently in the bed of the fire so they wouldn't release any embers.

"Care to answer a few more questions?" I asked.

"You are full of questions. Go ahead."

"I don't have much of a sense of the passage of time. I don't know how long I was unconscious—hours, days, or weeks—while I was recuperating, but, I'm thinking it was more than a week since I first woke up on the shore …"

"Okay, over a week,” she said, and paused..  “Why is that important?"
"During that time no one's come to check on you, Axtilla. I find that strange. Where are your people? If the Kojutake is a threat to us, why aren't they coming to take you away, to protect you?"

She looked away from me.

"You know what I think? I think there are just you and me. No others. I don't think there are any your people. You know?"

She still wouldn't look at me.

"That's important, Axtilla. Don't you think that's important? We need to be realistic. The Kojutake may be too powerful for the two of us. But, if we had your people—"

"My people banished me here." She turned back to me and I saw her eyes were filled with tears.

"I'm sorry, but I find that hard to believe! You'd have to have done something horrible to be banished. They wouldn't have banished you unless you were a threat to your people. What did you do that was so terrible?"

She was silent for better than a minute, her eyes closed.

"Axtilla—what?"

"I was the last one left—"

I laughed a short, bitter laugh. "Then, who banished you?"

"No, no, Doctrex!"  She held up a warning hand, her lips and jaw trembling, her eyes so tightly closed that her tears seeped through her lashes and onto her cheek. It took her a moment before she could speak. "Don't--don't be so quick to interrupt, please. You must be patient and let me unfold this in a way you will understand. I am the last in a group of the followers of the Encloy." She raised her hand. "Don't speak. Listen. In the beginning of our times, our people were savage and brutal. They lived for their bellies and their lusts. They existed on one plane without contact with any outside life; their destiny was to destroy themselves.

"It was out of this mass of ancestral decay that the Encloy had its beginning. Think of it as a dot of light in a spiritual darkness beyond belief. How it first came into existence … and more importantly, how it became aware that it existed for something other than death and destruction—that was the first miracle. How it sustained itself, sheltered its tiny light from the darkness, no one can even guess. What started as just one, and then two, grew to many hundred individual points of cohering light. When they became a presence to the darkness, they became a threat. They were forced into hiding."

"Wait, wait a minute. You're starting to speak metaphorically again. Darkness! Dots of light! It sounds a lot like the Book of Genesis. Okay, fast forward. Seriously! We don't have time. Who were these points of light? How were they different from the others in the darkness?"

She cleared her throat, obviously irritated by the interruption. "The points of light: they formed naturally into groups according to their talents and interests. Some were students of the world around them. They asked 'why' and 'why not' and cataloged how things happened according to a pattern. They were our first scientists. Others were comfortable numbering everything. They were perfectly content inside their mind where everything in their world was represented by a quantity."

I felt impatience rising in me. "Okay, mathematicians, I get it. And, I'm sorry, Axtilla, but this would be a beautiful story to tell around a campfire—if we didn't have the Kojutake breathing down our necks!"

Axtilla smiled. "Okay, for the moment I'll summarize the composition of the Encloy as the embodiment of all that was life affirming and upward yearning."

"Thank you—I think!"

"You're welcome, but don't underestimate the importance of the details we left out." She blinked several times, as though fast-forwarding a tape in her mind. "The Encloy reached a membership of over a thousand at its highest point, with fifty times more sympathizers in the general population.”

"So, over fifty-thousand supporters?"

"This covered several generations."

"Still … but out of how many total?"

"At the time of the Bining, the population numbered five-hundred thousand."

"The Bining!" If I were standing, I'd have been tapping my foot.

"I'm getting there. If the Dark Forces were single-minded in dedicating themselves to destroying the force of light, we'd have had no chance of surviving their strength in numbers. But--and this is important, Doctrex--they were no stronger than their sense of self. You know what I mean?"

"I—think so." I was starting again to feel a creeping impatience and I thought she perceived it.

"Just listen, Doctrex. If we survive Kojutake, this history lesson will be important to you. They lacked unity, you see. And, without unity they lacked leadership. They were as intent on killing each other as they were anyone outside their circle of brutality. Remember that."

I nodded, not really understanding how that information could be useful.

She adjusted her position against the log. "According to the Tablets of Kyrn—"

"Here we go again! You're throwing out the Tablets of Kyrn like I should know what it is!"

"Kyrn was the first source of light from which our people were delivered from darkness."

"That dot? That dot of light you were talking about?"

"Yes, Kyrn. If I may proceed, Doctrex, according to the Tablets of Kyrn, the Bining occurred five generations ago and ushered in the Preview of Enlightenment, the equivalent of your Anno Domini or A.D. It's the beginning date of our modern calendar."

"Okay, back to the Bining. You're giving me an information overload, Axtilla."

"The Tablets of Kyrn accurately predicted the exact occurrence of the Bining. To understand this you will begin to see why my people banished me."

Now we were getting somewhere. I needed to concentrate as never before.

"The Encloy made a concerted effort to prepare the supporters of the light for the Bining, but that would have required a level of faith that not many had." She studied my face, I think to gauge my understanding. Finally, she added, "The Bining was the alignment of one plane on another."

"Plane! What do you mean plane? Tell me you don't mean airplane."

She looked briefly puzzled, and then smiled. "No, a flat surface, a disk. In the interest of time, may I continue? The Bining took place in darkness. And, since it was completed over a period roughly equivalent to your month, it was a prolonged darkness that had a symbolic significance to the Encloy. The weaker members of those who supported the Encloy—those who wanted to believe, but didn't have the mental stamina that faith provided, drifted more away from the movement, away from the inner light. This was all foretold in the Tablets of Kyrn. The Tablets also prophesied the completion of the Bining."

"And, in the interest—"

"Yes, yes. After the month-long darkness of the Bining, when the light finally fell on our land again, the Encloy discovered the creatures of the darkness had totally disappeared. They had simply vanished, without a trace. Likewise—and sadly— those I mentioned whose faith was weak had been drawn into the Dark Forces. They, too, vanished. They did not get a further opportunity to develop their faith."  Her voice faltered. "That always saddened me."

"I understand."

Noticing the fire needed more fuel, I crawled over to the dwindling stack of bark, took two of the larger chunks, crawled back and placed them on the fire and then began my return. At that moment the ground shifted beneath me. I teetered and fell to my side, got back to my hands and knees, and shot a glance at Axtilla. She was on her stomach, reaching for something to grasp onto, to stabilize her, but she was like a rudderless ship being flung about in a storm. I opened my mouth to tell her I was coming when my words were swallowed up in a deafening, roaring wind that whirled and whipped around us and over us and was gone, along with the shaking of the earth.

By the time I got to her she was leaning back against the log, taking in deep gulps of air.

"Are you okay?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Kojutake!" she cried, pointing an unsteady finger at something behind and above me. Her breathing was labored. "L-look!"
 
 
 

Author Notes This chapter gives the reader some information vital to the understanding of the rest of the book. It gives me mixed feelings: I'm afraid those who enjoyed the action in the previous chapters might lose interest. But it lays the groundwork for some important action to follow.


Chapter 6
THE POMNOTS

By Jay Squires

My apology to those who haven't read chapter five of The Trining for this necessarily l-o-n-g summary. Please do take the time to read it. Then you can romp merrily through Chapter Six ….
 
Doctrex possesses an uneasy ownership of his new body. If Axtilla's words are true, he had killed himself and immediately his consciousness entered a new body on this plane.
 
The Kojutake light show begins with a long arm of swirling colors that comes toward them and then retreats. The light show intensifies. Whenever there is a lull, Axtilla gives him a history of her people beginning when there was only darkness (the dark force). Then a dot of light appears. She later describes the dot as Kyre, the author of the Tablets of Kyre that her people live by. Other dots of light appeared, representing science and mathematics and history. The sources of light had to hide themselves from the darkness (which felt threatened by them). They formed the Encloy. At its peak there were 50,000 members and supporters of the Encloy. A signal event called the Bining occurred five generations ago, when over thirty days of darkness all the members of darkness, as well as those who didn't have the faith to totally commit to the forces of light, were swept up into the Kojutake.
 
The history lesson is interrupted by a horrendous roaring and rumbling of the earth that knocks them over, then retreats. As they are recovering and he is attending to her, she points above and behind him, terrified, crying, "Kojutake!"
 

Chapter Six 
 
 I edged in beside her at the log and, dreading what she was urging me to look at, I slowly brought my eyes around to the left and up. "Oh, my God!" I gasped.
She swallowed. "We must take it all in, Doctrex," she said, her breathing shallow and rapid. "Our lives depend on—on remembering the lessons from all we see."

The thin, diaphanous membrane stretched out over us all the way to the mountain and off to the left of it, as far as I could see. On the other side of this membrane, where a sulfurous yellow fog drifted and swirled about, an enormous reddish-brown object throbbed against the sheath. The fog first enveloped it, and then released it. A flurry of blurred movement lunged toward this—this—it was a heart! In a fogless moment, the bear-sized former owner's carcass lay grotesquely on its side with gaping chest cavity. Whatever the attacking beasts were, they were first swallowed up by the fog and then disgorged from it. There had to be at least ten of them. And the fury of their mission was carried out in a soundless pantomime. They made another series of lunges, ripping into the heart, pulling away dripping shreds. The blood, dribbling down from the flesh, made tiny holes in the membrane and, continuing through, fell like scarlet rain to the ground where spumes of steam sizzled at their points of contact. I watched as the membrane instantly healed itself where the blood seeped through.

I only now remembered what she said. "How can I not take it all in, Axtilla?" I asked her, keeping my voice down. "Who are those—those—"

She held up a hand and we watched as one of them scooped up the last of the gelatinous heart and another the rear leg of the carcass, and lumbered into the yellow fog, the rest following. "We have some time while they are feeding. It's the Pomnot's highest aspiration, filling his belly. Another fact to tuck away."

"That's their name, Pomnot?"

"Pom, dark; not, force."

"Who are they, though?"

"The tablets tell us they are the advance guard, the disposables. They are the members of the Dark Force that were swept up during the bining to do the bidding of Kojutake."

"Wait! You said that was five generations ago. These wouldn't be the original—"

"It can be dangerous for you to compare everything that you see here with your former home as a frame of reference. There were no female Pomnots. Generation is in measurement of time only. Here there is no procreation, as you know it, among those of the Dark Force. There were no female Pomnots," she repeated emphatically.

"Well, that can't be!"

"But it can. It is as I say. You see how violent they are when they feed? They live off the wild beasts on their plane. And when the animal life isn't available, they kill and eat each other. You must watch them without judgment or criticism, watch and learn from them. They will be our first encounter."

"Do they know we're here? I mean now? Can they see us?"

"Of course they can."

"What's stopping them from tearing through that membrane and coming after us?"

"That's the first productive question you've asked. You saw what happened when the blood dripped through the skin …."

"Skin?"

"That's what it is. It's alive. It separates organisms. It heals itself."

"Okay. Which is what it did when the blood dripped through."

"The healing is rapid. It has to be, to keep the organisms from destroying each other."

"So it keeps the Dark Forces from invading you and your people."

"But, it doesn't judge; it's not moral. It just exists. It is. The skin is incredibly strong and dense, while at the same time flexible. Did you find it strange that with all the violence on that plane there was no sound at all? It was completely blocked from our plane."

I nodded but my mind was elsewhere. Something just didn't fit. There were some inconsistencies that needed to be addressed: just as soon as I could tie them together. Something with the soundlessness. Soundlessness … Sure!
 
"Axtilla," I said, gathering my thoughts. "Earlier, when I mentioned the aurora borealis—remember?"

She cocked her head. "When Kojutake first appeared from behind the mountain?"

"And, even before when we could see the glow around the mountain."

"Okay." She had a puzzling smile on her lips.

"It wasn't just the light show. There were loud, rumbling sounds along with it. How could the sound penetrate the skin, then, but not now?"

"Exactly," she said, getting excited. "Now we're on a constructive course. We need to keep exploring questions like this. Later, when we encounter the Dark Force, we mustn't let emotion rule our reason."

"So explain."

She was enjoying this, having fun with it. Or, with my lack of understanding of it!

"So, let's explore it, Doctrex. It's a key to so much. We don't have a lot of time, though, so please just listen." She closed her eyes as if to organize her thoughts, and while I stoked the fire she explained with some difficulty: "The skin, guarding the integrity of both planes—remember there is no good or bad to the skin—is always above us. High above us during the daylight hours, nearer at night. The light show, as you called it, was the first stages of Kojutake. It was completely silent to us. The rumbling and later the wind that almost blew us away … those were the forces on our plane. I think—though this isn't supported by the wisdom of the Tablets—I think it was a power display by the cognitive part of our plane … though the sound part of it would not be heard on the other side of the skin."

"So, the Pomnots can see us, but they can't hear us or penetrate the skin and hurt us." It was not a question, more of a statement of understanding on my part to which she apparently felt no need to respond. I imagined them looking down from their shroud of yellow fog and wondering about these two strange people, leaning against a log. I turned to her and gave her my most mischievous smile.  "So, you have complete confidence in the skin?"

She returned an incongruous smile. "I believe I made that clear to you."

"They can't touch us...."  Again, not a question; a statement of fact.

She addressed me with a tilted head.

Leaping to my feet and shaking my arms wildly toward the skin, I shrieked my best imitation of an Indian war cry. I danced around the fire, thrusting my fist at the Pomnots and whooping at the top of my lungs. Then, I adopted the demeanor of a Gorilla. Standing there, legs spread, I glared into the sulfurous fog, trying to catch sight of a Pomnot and began pounding my chest and hurling a voice that was somewhere between a Gorilla and Tarzan.

Axtilla must have thought I lost my mind. She stared at me, her jaw slack. Then, as I was watching her with a grin on my face, I saw her look of wonder change to one of horror. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a blur, and turned to see the membrane stretching to the breaking point toward me and the huge opening and closing jaws of a Pomnot pushing into it. I nearly fell into the fire trying to scramble back in retreat. Before I could pull completely out of danger, I felt the nudge of the Pomnot snout against my chest just as the membrane began to spring back to its starting position. It withdrew so rapidly that it slingshot the Pomnot into the yellow fog.

All this happened so unexpectedly that laughter bubbled out of Axtilla's throat and she bent over, holding her stomach. She was trying to say something through her laughter, but the words weren't cooperating. She kept trying and she touched her face, but it again overtook her.

I smiled and waited. When her words didn't come I started mine. "In the name of science, my dear Axtilla, I risked my life to test a theory--and what do I get for it? Laughter!"

It was true I was testing a theory. It wasn't true that I thought there would be any risk to my life. I wasn't being heroic. I just had to know how much of what we saw on the other side, which was on the surface terrifying, was of any real danger to us. Was it all smoke and mirrors? Illusion? The other lie was that I was miffed by her laughter. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Ever since I heard her hilarity over my bruised thigh, I craved to hear her irrepressible merriment again. It was so spontaneous and unguarded. But, I also remembered my interpretation of a tender moment, back then, urged me to put my hand on her, to touch her. The reaction was electric, and I didn't want to expose my vulnerability again, just yet.

I waited, still smiling.

She was about ready. She was able to sit up straight again, though she was struggling to keep her face serious. "I'm sorry,” she said, and then her mouth spread into a grin." But, but, you should have …" She started giggling again and recovered. "…should have seen your face!"

"Well, I'm aware that—"

"Oh, Doctrex, when the only thing protecting you was the skin—and still the Pomnot bumped up against you, where—" She nearly fell back into her mirth, but stopped short, "where was your theory-testing then?"

I had to agree with her that the scientific environment I set for the experiment might have been a little flawed.

"You were terrified! Weren't you?"

I grinned. "Well, a little, I suppose."

"But, you know what was funny, what really kept me going?"

I didn't.

"It was first watching the vicious beast propelled by the skin, flying through the air and into the fog. I was imagining the other Pomnots in there with him laughing like I was, until they could hardly breathe. How funny was his little experiment?"

"Well, I guess that just shows you there are clowns on both sides."

She glanced up just for a second, I thought to claim the meaning of clown. "Sometimes," she said, "being a clown is what we need."

We settled into a warm, comfortable silence. I wanted so much to touch her. I needed to go slowly. Slowly.

I tried to remember her words from just before I performed my antics. She was explaining to me her theory of how the cognitive powers of our plane exerted its brawn against the plane of the Kojutake. It was doing it on a monumental scale, just as I had done against the Pomnot and the Pomnot did against me.

There was still something troubling in her explanation I couldn't put my finger on.

Axtilla emerged from her silence. "Though the Tablets don't tell us about the need of one plane to exercise power over the other, what it does tell us—and it is what we must heed when we have our encounter—is that the gift of madness is given to anyone who finally enters the unsettling noise of the other plane."

"The gift?  Did you say gift?"

"Kyre was not without a sense of Irony."

"Or, he was being literal."

She blinked rapidly, but didn't comment. I thought about something she kept emphasizing. She said a number of times, when we encounter the Dark Force…

"Axtilla, tell me … Since the skin separates the integrity of the two planes, and it keeps those beasts from tearing through the skin to get us, and since we have no intention of going through and attacking them … what are we even worried about? It's just a light show after all. It's a play. Why don't we just sit back and enjoy it?"

"But, you don't understand, I don't have any choice: I have to go through to the other side!"
 
 
 
 


Chapter 7
The Portal

By Jay Squires

NEW TO THE TRINING?  You'll get a good feel for its entirety if you read the summaries from chapters two through five.  THIS WILL BEGIN THE SUMMARY FOR CHAPTER SIX:
 
Doctrex is horrified by the Kojutake that Axtilla has pointed to.  Stretched out above them is a membrane, a skin, and behind it huge creatures Axtilla identifies as Pomnots (Pom, Dark and Not, Force. The dripping blood from the heart of their prey penetrates the skin and the skin immediately heals itself.  The Pomnots conduct their murderous activities in pantomime.  There is no sound from the other side and the Pomnots can't hear them, either.  Doctrex has trouble believing this, so to test it Doctrex dances wildly around the fire screaming at them and shaking his fist.  When he turns to smile at Axtilla he sees her face transfixed with horror.  He turns to see the Pomnot stretching the skin to the breaking point and before he can escape the Pomnot's snout is pressed into his chest through the unbreaking skin.  The skin releases the Pomnot like a slingshot back into the sulfurous fog.  Axtilla is beside herself in laughter.
 
Once she settles down and they are in a serious mode she explains to Doctrex that she has to go to the other side, has to enter Kojutake.  She has no choice.
 
Chapter Seven

My eyes locked on hers. An increasingly familiar frustration rose in me. I couldn't believe this was coming from the same mouth that told me earlier we had to hurry to get back to the cave before dark. And, wasn't she driven by sheer panic when she made her attempted escape up the slippery hillside? I slowly shook my head, still scrutinizing her. "I can't believe what I'm hearing, Axtilla."

"Of course, you can't, Doctrex. It all happened so fast, and I didn't have the time to explain things to you in the proper order."

"Now we have even less time … and like it or not, I've kind of been a part of everything that's happened so far."

"That's true. You entered at a critical part of our history. You didn't ask for it, but you're here. The only chance that you, or anyone, will have for survival is if I go through to the other side."

"And, this revelation came to you just now?"

"I know you are angry and that's okay." She traced a small circle with a twig on the ground between us. "No it didn't suddenly come to me. I knew about it before I ever saw you lying on the shore. I knew about it since I was banished here. I fought it with everything I had. It was unfair. Why was I the only one to whom this horrible responsibility fell? I wouldn't do it! I would stay in my cave during periods of darkness and only go out during the daytime to gather food and fuel for the fire."

"Why was it left up to you in the first place?"

"For me to explain that, Doctrex ..." She took a deep breath. "... I must go back and pick up some threads I dropped earlier. We'll have to return to when the Bining occurred, about five generations ago—"

"Now—now wait! Don't even begin to tell me you were there then!"

She watched me struggling with the thought, the corners of her mouth twitched in anticipation of a smile she was able to check. "Why? What difference does it make, Doctrex?"

"Well … none, I suppose. It's just not possible, that's all."

"Okay, then … The Tablets of Kyre tell us that our ancestry stretched back over two-thousand years. They were all like the Pomnots you saw earlier. Probably more vicious. Certainly as much centered on themselves as now.

"Out of that violent, black morass, a point of the brightest light was introduced."

"And the light was called Kyre. And, it was good," I said, with all the pomp of an orator.

She shot me a glare.

"I'm sorry, Axtilla. But it seemed right out of our Old Testament."

She brought her eyes back to the front. "It is very important to my people. I suppose it's not important for you to see its power or its beauty." She took a deep breath and went on. "What is important, is that I finish the history and for you, as much as is possible, to let me finish it with few interruptions.”

"I understand." I stifled a grin. "I'm sorry."

"Remember, I told you I was the last in the line of the Encloy?"

"I do. Yes." I found myself responding as an enlisted man would to a General. It only lacked the "sir." I knew it was a sign my ego was being tromped on. I needed to show her the respect she deserved. She was, after all, in a position to help us both.

"And, you remember I explained how, over time, a growing number of the Dark Force came to recognize the force of light to be something worthwhile? And, how that group formed the third part of our population?"

"Yes, I remember."

"And, when the Bining came, some stayed and some went with the Pomnots over to the other side, depending on their strength of belief in the light?"

"Their faith."

She looked momentarily annoyed with my interruption, but responded: "It was more of the closeness in memory. Those of the three generations following the teachings of the light, almost to a person, stayed. The ones just introduced to it more than likely reverted. But, we have to remember we all came from the Pomnot stock.”

This was one more thing I found hard to swallow, but I didn't interrupt her.

"Desire, or faith, as you call it, was not enough to gain entrance to the Encloy. From its beginning the Encloy was made up of those with special skills. It is said in the Tablets that only Kyre possessed all the knowledge and skills."

"Oh, so he was—"

"Yes?"

"Nothing." I convinced myself that this small surrender was acceptable in the interests of time.

"But, since Kyre could not be everywhere at once …"

Well this was a departure! I shot her what I thought was a covert glance, but I kept my thoughts to myself.

"You're smiling," she said.

"I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"As the light separates from its source, its radiance diffuses. So, though each of the specialists was important to the whole, none was particularly brilliant by himself. But when all the specialists communed together, as long as there was a harmony among them, their combined brilliance dazzled the senses."

"That's beautiful," I said. "Was that your experience?"

"No." She paused for a long time and when I was about to ask if I’d said something that bothered her, she continued. "No, I never experienced the harmony. I was paraphrasing Kyre, from his Tablets. By the time my grandfather—my father's father—was admitted to the Encloy it already showed signs of inner disharmony. He told my father, and years later my father told me, there was taunting and bickering among the practitioners over which specialty was more valuable to our people. My grandfather was a peacemaker and a leader. And, since that was his specialty, he commanded considerable power and respect. He was a gentle man, and wise—and with patience and love he was able to restore some of the harmony. My father was next in succession when his father died. He needed to be voted in, but he had a natural charm and was loved and respected by nearly all. He was chosen after only one ballot."

"And, yet it seems like there's a world of meaning in your nearly all. Or, was I reading more into it than I should?"

"No, there was a small but vocal group of dissenters present when my grandfather and then my father took their leadership role."

"I think I see where this is going."

"No you don't, but go on."

"Did you have a brother?"

"No."

"So, when your father died, you were next in succession … you or your mother."

"My mother died giving birth to me. I was an only child."

"Well, as charming and intelligent as you are, I'm sure it took you more than one ballot to be chosen successor."

She looked down at the ground, smiling. Charm wouldn't be the reason they would reject her. I was certain of that.

"So … how many? The second, third, fourth ballot?"

She shook her head.

"What?"

"I was not chosen. It would have set too much of a precedent … just as you had so intelligently supposed."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not sure that I, or anyone else for that matter, could have provided the leadership the Encloy needed. It was perhaps doomed to dissolution. A point of light only exhibits its true brilliance when seen against the darkness. Who would have guessed that the beginning of the extinguishing of the light would occur the moment the Pomnots were taken to the other side? If you forget everything else I've said before, don't forget this. It's a key to everything."

I nodded.

My grandfather spent his life studying Kyre's prophesies.  By correlating this knowledge with a close observation of our people, he was the first to recognize the slow, paralyzing effect of a prolonged period without outward resistance. Peace reigned for generations. My people were well on the way to becoming physically and mentally debilitated through lack of exercise. A light without the contrast of darkness!"

"I see." I remembered lying on the beach. As weak as I was, how effortlessly I threw Axtilla off my back. And, later, how winded she got as she ran from me, ending up collapsed on the ground, gasping.

"Our destiny was clear, almost preordained. We would not be prepared for what the Tablets prophesied." She paused, staring into the sulfurous sky.
I thought she was drawing me out. If so, it worked. "What did the Tablets prophesy?"

"Only that, when the Trining occurred there would be a sudden, easy and complete translation of authority."

I glanced at her in time to see the tears form in the corners of her eyes. She was staring at the ground in front of her. Not blinking, the tears hung there.

"The words seem to have a lot of meaning for you," I said. "It's like you were reading from the Tablets."

"I know the Tablets by heart." Without a pause, she turned to me. "Did you understand the words, Doctrex?"

"It was eloquent. No, should I have?"

She was briefly irritated, but recovered. "I'd have thought you would ask about the Trining."

"Is that why you stopped when you finished that part?"

"I stopped because Kyre ends the tablets there. There is no more.”

"So, I'm guessing the Trining was the end as well?"

"Is—no. Will be—yes. The Trining hasn't happened yet. You need to know about the Trining, so once again try to abstain from the unimportant questions."

"Well!" I said, feigning taking offense at her words. Finally I smiled. "Okay, you got it!"

"Kyre described the Bining—not the Trining, but the original Bining—as 'a brief, incomplete lodging, with rapid departure. It could be no other.'"

I sighed. So many questions I promised not to ask! Was Kyre describing a conscious contact with the planet? What did he mean, 'it could be no other'?

"Had the Bining been a 'complete lodging and permanent', as the earliest members of the Encloy interpreted, in their Additions to the Tablets, our civilization would differ much from what it grew to be. There was much dispute over the types and degrees of difference."

"I'm sorry, Axtilla, but now I've got to ask a question. You might assume I already know the answer to my question and therefore never clear it up."

"Go on, Doctrex, but quickly."

"Yes. Incomplete lodging … rapid departure. Why does it sound like an intelligent encounter? Should it? Was it a spaceship? Do you even know what I mean by spaceship?"

"If you must interrupt with questions, Doctrex, you must only ask the pertinent ones. The only pertinent one you asked now was whether it was an intelligent encounter. The rest was irrelevant."

I felt the heat rising in my face. "Then, answer that one pertinent question, will you, Axtilla?"

“Sure. Only Kyre knew the composition of the Bining, whether it was intelligent or not. Once recorded in the Tablets and open to the speculation of the people of Encloy, and in light of the passing over of the Pomnots from our sphere to the other, the weight of opinion is that it was intelligently directed." She raised her hand as if to stop any additional question. "But we are wasting our time talking now about the Bining, except in respect to what it tells us about the Trining. The Trining will be, without question, intelligently directed."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because Kyre was very clear in his Tablets of the things that would come to pass before the Trining."

"As signs of its coming?"

"As its precedence."

"What do you mean?"

She took on a reflective demeanor. "You now know more about the Trining than any of my people. And, you are about to learn what only my father and I knew."

"I don't understand. Weren't the Tablets your people's spiritual documents?"

"For the people of the Encloy, yes. But, my grandfather made them—shall we say—less than accessible to the general membership when he became aware of the enemy within the Encloy. My father was party to this knowledge, of course, and shortly after Grandfather died my father had a dream. At first he thought it was his father commanding him, but he soon realized it was Kyre Himself. Kyre instructed Father to teach me the contents of the Tablets. I was in fact instructed to commit all seven Tablets to memory over a period of three years. Once Father was convinced that all were safely stored in my memory, he was to destroy the Tablets."

"What a terrible responsibility."

"What an honor to be so entrusted with my people's history."

"Did anyone ever discover this?"

"You. Now."

"Why me? Why now?"

"I will answer you that but first you need to know what only my father and I were given knowledge of. You must be given the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging on our plane. His name is Glnot Rhuether."

"Okay, but—"

"Say it, Glnot Rhuether."

I attempted it, did a poor job with the initial triple consonants. I tried it again.

"Better. Glnot … but more importantly, will you remember it?"

"I'll remember it, but I hope you're planning to tell me why it's going to be so important.

"You may not have to, but we can't take any chances. I must go over. I must confront Glnot Rhuether. My life has been entwined with yours for quite a while, as if a force stronger than either of us has been guiding our lives. If that is true then, for whatever reason, you might find yourself on the other side, too."

We were both silent for a spell. I considered her words. This force she mentioned—did she believe it was Kyre? Or, were we being Glnot Rhuether's puppets? Is that what she thought?

"Doctrex, I told you our sphere is a point of arrival for those intimately connected with a violent passing."

"A brother is what you said."

"Metaphorically, to help you with grasping the idea. Anyway …" She paused.

"Yes?"

"It's always been location specific."

"Meaning?"

"Your arrival was at a location never used by new arrivals before."

"Are you saying—it sounds a lot like you're saying—that I may not be of the recent dead?"

"Have you had any memory flashes—any at all—that might explain where you came from?"

"Why? How would that help?"

"Kyre said in the sixth Tablet that a stranger would come to my people from the sea, that he would speak in a tongue unknown to them, he would win their loyalty and by deceit would destroy us from within, all in preparation for the Trining. 'Pondria will move like sweet-tasting water among my people,' Kyre warned, 'and my people will drink the water and find it refreshing to their spirit. And even while they want more of the sweet tasting water, a slow poison will begin to creep into their spirit.'"

"I remembered it when you recited it the last time. Oh, Axtilla! I thought we'd grown beyond that. Remember? Pondria could easily have gotten himself out of where I had myself wedged in the cave wall. You told me that yourself. And, no one could doubt Pondria's thigh was more powerful than my puny one." I studied her expression, hoping for a trace of a smile. A steady, stern gaze returned mine.

Then, she stared down at a place beyond our feet and without looking back at me, brought her hand to rest on my forearm. Her eyes filled and overfilled, but she didn't turn them to me. "Doctrex, I want to believe that more than you know. Don't look at me. Please."

I found that same space beyond our feet and focused my gaze there, but I wanted, more than anything, to put my other hand on hers. Still, I resisted.

"I have told you more than my people know, Doctrex. Can you fathom that? The knowledge I have given you is treasonous. I could be put to death. If you are Pondria, I should be put to death."

I wanted to scream, to curse, to shout, to shriek: I am not Pondria! But I kept my silence.

"Do you know why I was banished? No, don't answer—I will tell you why I was banished. After my father died, I remained secluded in our home, alone. I was feeling almost—how can I say it—almost sacred. I had memorized the entirety of the tablets. I felt a closeness to Kyre that I'd never felt before. He seemed personal for the first time, not abstract. I had profound dreams that connected me with his voice, not his face, for no one has looked into the face of Kyre. But, Kyre gave me instructions in my dreams, and his voice was sweet and melodious and compelling. But, I didn't want to follow them. They frightened me and I wanted to count them as dreams only and not real. But, when I failed to follow them, Kyre came to me at night with a stronger, more urgent dream, one in which I could feel a kind of unfinished wrath.  It had to be finished … so I followed his instructions. With fear in my heart I went out among my people and gave them the message of Pondria's powers, his dreadful gifts.

"I spoke to my people one by one, in small groups, in larger gatherings. I made my presence in the Encloy, spoke before the assembly there, within which the factions of the Dark Force had gained a stronghold.

"To everyone who would listen, or pretended to listen, I told how their peace was not a true peace. With true peace there had to be constant vigilance that would guarantee its own perpetuation. Kyre's admonition about Pondria was met with laughter. They were laughing at Kyre. I persisted. The ones who weren't laughing—well they were laughing publicly, but taking it very seriously within the confines of the Encloy—were the force of darkness.

"I was brought before the Encloy's justice board where my faith was tested. When they found my belief in what I was telling everyone was unshakable, the board ordered my head shaved and banished me to the fourth quadrant—here where one month after my sojourn, I discovered Pondria, emerged from the sea, as Kyre foretold."

"I … am … not … Pondria!" I said, through clenched teeth, while managing to keep myself from shouting and still not looking at her.

At first, silence. And, then a huge exhale escaped her lips.

I swung my head in her direction.

Her eyes were closing, her head tilted toward me. Her mouth was slack.

"Axtilla! What is it? Are you—?"

"So—sleepy. Kyre wants me—"

"Wants you?"

"… wants me to sleep." Her eyes were fully closed. "…dream," she murmured.

I sat there quietly beside her, listening to her breathing, her head now on my shoulder. Resting my cheek against the crown of her head, I closed my eyes, too. After a while, I felt the faint flutter of her pulse against the side of my face; or was it my pulse up from the river vessels, crowding at my jaw? A fluttery feeling, like the teasing tickle of the foam above the gentle power of the deep-sucking tide, the swelling and releasing of her body into mine and mine back into hers. And, before releasing myself to that final, blissful annihilation, I remembered another brief tugging at my side, a slow ripping of the flesh and a remorseful separation. From what? What? Then a drawing downward into the sea and a forgetting.
 
#
 
"Help me! Help me, please!"

I reached out my dream hands through the churning water, felt it sliding obliquely from me, following its own chains, trailing graying flesh from its side. Already its eyes were open and staring, and its sea-grass hair, trailing past staring eyes, open mouth and slack shoulders, back toward me.

"Help me! Please, mister, pull me through."

Pull me through! A dream …Sea-grass stringing back toward me. My eyes snapped open and I remove my face from the weight against it. A warm dampness, now cooling, on my cheek, filled me with an unspeakable sorrow as I looked down on the head that, without the anchor of my cheek, was about to slide down my arm. I stalled its descent with my left hand, while I maneuvered my right arm behind her. Edging back, I gently guided her to a lying position on her side. I smiled down on her.

"Help me, sir. Please help me."

I whipped my head around to where the sound seemed to originate. The Kojutake was back with all its silent fury. The sky was a sulfurous blaze. But, if there was no sound to the Kojutake, where did the voice come from? Did I imagine it? Was it part of the dream that bled out into my waking?

"Here, sir, please, a little behind you. Look, please help me."

Twisting from the waist, I caught a glimpse, then scrambled to my knees and spun around fully to confirm what I had seen. Out past our log, where the ground began a sharper slope down from our plateau into the darkness, I saw the young girl, barely illuminated by the fire, hanging upside-down from her waist, half in our world and half in the Kojutake.

It has to be part of the dream.  I’ll wake up from this, too ….

I got to my feet, stiff from all my sitting, and moved toward her. She couldn't have been more than seven or eight. An odd mixture of fear and relief was in her face, or what little I could see of it, her bronze-colored hair hanging down very nearly to her finger tips.

"Please, before they find me. They will kill me. Please, pull me through."

I judged how far over the slope of the hill she hung. I knew if I stood just below her, reaching up, there was no way I could reach her down-stretched hands. She was about fifteen to twenty feet out past the log.

"Oh, hurry, sir!"

"I'm trying to figure my best way of reaching you, little girl. Try to be calm. I just need a second to figure this out.”

With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I quickly realized my only chance at reaching her would be by leaping through the air. Behind me, I had a runway of about ten yards before the hill began its sharp incline toward the mountain. If I could just develop enough speed I might be able to launch off the log. If I could grab her through my leap, my momentum should pull her down out of her imprisonment.

Very slowly and deliberately I explained this to her, adding, "Now my timing may be off, so when you see me leaping toward you, if I seem to miss my mark, do everything you can to grab onto me. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," she said, in a trembling voice.

"Let's do it, then," I said, with as much hope as I could muster—as much for me as for her. I counted off twenty-seven walking paces to the base of the incline. On a full run that would be about thirteen paces until I got to the log.

In my mind's eye I pictured a perfect right-footed launch off the log, a soaring through the air toward the child, a full-armed embrace as I passed within six inches of her and a half-pirouette as my body ripped her from her sheath within the other world and we both tumbled down the hill.

I took a step, stopped.

My heart was thrumping in my throat.

I can’t do this.  This is impossible!

“Please hurry, sir.” She sobbed. “Oh, hurry!”

Okay, okay… No more rehearsals. I began a slow loping, then gained speed, building to a sprint as I approached the log. I sprang with my left foot toward the log, perfectly timed so my right foot planted on the rough surface, while I simultaneously uncoiled my right thigh, pushing off the log, catapulting myself toward the girl, whose eyes were wide with fearful anticipation. As I rehearsed, within a blur of a second I was within a grasp of the little girl. My arms wrapped around her knees, precisely as I had envisioned.

Unlike my rehearsal, her down-hanging pipe-stem arms entwined my passing thighs, her tiny hands grasping my calves like a pair of vises. And, instead of my momentum ripping her from her imprisonment, I felt a slowing, a suspension, and then soundlessly, effortlessly, she dragged me up through the opening … into the Kojutake!
 
 


Chapter 8
LIFE WITHOUT AXTILLA?

By Jay Squires

 
IF YOU ARE JUST NOW JOINING THE ADVENTURE, This is what happened in Chapter Seven: It was a long, but seminal chapter; I hope you will be able to read it in its entirety:
 
In order to explain to Doctrex why it is her responsibility to go to the other side, Axtilla needs to give him more of the history of her people. Since the Bining, her people had become physically and morally soft. This was because of too much peace (light) without challenges (dark). A division had occurred within the Encloy. When her grandfather died her father took over as leader. He got direction from Kyre in his dreams that he was to have Axtilla memorize all the tablets, after which they were to be destroyed. She does this. She goes on to explain the Trining and how is was going to be a "sudden, easy and complete translation of authority." When her father died, she started having dreams where Kyre instructed her to tell the Encloy of the arrival of Pondria & the beginning of their decline in preparation for the Trining. She is ridiculed by some, feared by others. This is why she was banished. And, with the Trining looming before them, the only thing she can do is confront the leader of the Far north, Glnot Rhuether, and destroy him. Suddenly, she gets very sleepy and tells Doctrex Kyre is calling her.
 
While she sleeps, Doctrex hears the voice of a child in distress, crying for help. She his hanging upside down through a hole in the membrane and is begging him to pull her through. He takes as much of a run as he can and leaps toward her. As he grabs hold, she also grabs him by the calves and pulls him up and through, into Kojutake.
 
 
 

Chapter Eight

[KINDLY READ AUTHOR NOTES FIRST]
 
 She stood in front of me, smiling her child's smile. I stared at her for just a moment, until my eyes focused on what lay behind her. Even though part of me was aware she was still smiling at me, I took in everything around me in disbelief. Dime-sized pink flowers spread out across an entire meadow; they filled my nostrils with their delicate fragrance. Numberless oak trees left their inviting patchwork of shadows. I raised a hand to shield my eyes from the jarring glare of the sun. Where is the Kojutake? Where's the dirty, yellow fog, the Pomnots, the gory remnants of their kill? Where is anything I saw from down there?
 
I felt a sudden wrenching hollowness in my gut. Axtilla! Axtilla is dreaming her dreams down there. Or, has she already awakened and found me gone? What would she be thinking? That I ran away like a coward? That I abandoned her? She already has doubts, thinking I might be Pondria—and Pondria is the enemy of her people. Still …even in the midst of her doubt, she put her hand on my arm. And, while she was giving herself over to sleep—she was awake still, wasn't she—when she rested her head against my shoulder? Might she have even been aware of my cheek as it pressed against the crown of her head? On some level I'm sure she was. A feeling of nausea filled the hollowness.

"Why …?" That was all I could think to say to the child smiling up at me. She wore a pale yellow dress, loose at the waist, and little brown sandals. Her knees were stained by grass.

"You are sad," the child said, and for the moment she said it her smile was gone. But then it sprang back. "We can play."

"I don't want to play. I want to know who you are. And, where I am. This is not what I saw from down there. Where am I, little girl?"

She looked puzzled for a moment, and then the familiar smile returned. "You are here."

"Well, I don't want to be here! I want to be back … down there." I pointed, but there was no hole there—none!

"But it's ugly—dark and cold," she said . "The sun is so warm here." She seemed suddenly inspired. "I watched you and the other one when it was light. I watched you on the little path by the mountain, and when she fell and then when she was sick."

"Show me where you saw us. It has to be around here someplace.  Can you do that? I need to know if she's all right."

"Not now. It's dark there now."

"No, but wait! It was dark there a little while ago when you were hanging through the hole. But that didn't stop you. Where's the hole?"

She was stricken. "Oh! Please don't say anything about the hole. Tell me you won't."

"Ah-ha!" Now I had her. "Then, don't you think you'd better take me there right this very moment? You'd better find it, punch a hole big enough for me to fit in and push me through. Then, no one will be the wiser. No one will ever know."

She stared at me a moment, released two rapid-fire hiccups and then began sobbing, her face in her hands, her thin shoulders bobbing.

"No! You don't do that."

"I ju—jus—just wanted—" Another hiccup escaped.—"someone to play with. T-that's why I called you when you were down there."

“Nope,” I said, “huh-uh.”  I kept my eyes just above her head, flitting from one thing to another, while averting them from her.  “Now, come on, little girl!”

"Can we just play a little while? And-and then I'll push you through"

"Where are your brothers and sisters? You'd have more fun with someone your own age."

"I don't have any brothers or sisters I can play with."

I sighed. Axtilla would probably be searching the hillside for me by now. "Okay, listen to me, sweetheart. We'll play five minutes—ten minutes tops. You understand? Then we'll come back and you'll push me through the hole. You promise?"

She blinked her eyes and the smile returned.

"You promise?" I repeated.

She nodded, crinkling up her nose. "What shall we play? Do you know find out where I hide?

"You mean hide and seek?"

"See those trees?" There was a clump of three oak trees growing close together about a hundred yards away. "I'll hide there." She was evidently talking about another game. I was about to tell her I was supposed to hide my eyes and count to a hundred, but before I could get it out I saw her zipping across the meadow and down toward the trees. While she raced toward her destination, I dug with the toe of my shoe at a patch of pink flowers.   It had to be somewhere beneath these she had been hanging down; I stood, gawking at what was clearly an impossibility.

The little girl was at the trees, waving up at me.

"Sarisa … where are you Sarisa?"

The voice, a female voice, came from off to the right. I turned toward it. It sounded like it came from a copse of trees, about as far away in that direction as the little girl was in the other direction. Before I had a chance to gather my thoughts, the child was at my side, not even breathing hard.

"Mister, please don't tell her about the hole. She will be so disappointed in me."

"Maybe she should be. You might have been hurt."

"Please don't tell her. Here she comes. Hi, mommy."

I watched her mother gliding toward us down a slight decline, smiling a smile her daughter had mastered. She wore a pale yellow gown, of the same material as her daughter's, cinched at the waist with a woven black cord. She had on brown leather sandals.

"Your father will be home soon. We wouldn't want him to worry, would we?" She stopped in front of us, putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder, smiling all the while at me. I smiled back, but with a little less social finesse than she exhibited. She turned her glow back on her daughter. "Where are our manners, Sarisa? Are you going to introduce your friend?"

"My name's Doctrex," I said, intercepting Sarisa's discomfort.

"What an interesting name. It is not from around here, is it? Is it from the southern province?"

"Yes," I said, knowing full-well there was nothing I could answer to this that would not elicit the next question, 'Oh! What town or borough or village?' So I quickly added, "I've been a vagabond for years, traveling by foot here and there, working for my food and a place to lay my head. Today, I was resting a spell in this meadow, enjoying the sun and the fragrance of the flowers, when I saw your Sarisa. We hadn't even made introductions when we heard you calling her."

"My name is Metra," she said. I noticed all the while I spoke that she hadn't blinked or stopped smiling. She'd been waiting for a pause in my little lie to introduce herself.

"Well," I said, "It's nice to meet you, Metra." Suddenly, and without warning, my stomach gurgled, deep and long. I realized it had been about twelve hours since I had anything to eat; and that was a brief gnaw on a root.

"You must stay for dinner, Mr. Doctrex."

"It's just Doctrex," I corrected.

"It is such an interesting name, Doctrex. Are—"

"I accept," I interrupted, "if you're sure I won't be a bother."

To the little girl, I added, "Sarisa, I hope we'll be able to finish our game of find out where I hide before dark."

"Dark?" Metra puzzled. "It's not the season for dark. You must have been wandering down from the northern provinces." Something in the thought seemed to trouble her. She laid her arm across Sarisa's shoulder. "Come, my dear, let's show Doctrex the way to our house. Klasco will enjoy talking with you, Doctrex. With three females in the house he doesn't get much of a chance to talk."

I looked from Sarisa to her mother. "So, Sarisa has a sister?"

"Yes," she said, her face clouding a bit. "I should tell you Klea is not well. She doesn't leave the house." She urged Sarisa forward with her arm across her shoulder and she walked between us up the path toward the copse of trees. "Yes," she continued, "Klea was born six-weeks early and during the season of darkness."

"I see," I said, but of course I didn't. I waited for Metra to continue. "You'll probably wonder, though she is bedridden, how she is different from, say, Sarisa. She has no difficulty speaking. When she is a good child she sits up in her bed while we gather around her and she laughs and jokes and is caring of our feelings. When she is a naughty child, though, she has a vile temper, throws her food, and—and her voice even sounds different."

"Klea loves me," Sarisa said and then fell silent.

"Of course she does, my dear." her mother said, and stopped to give her daughter a little hug. We resumed walking. "And, we all love her very much, little sister." To me she added, "I'm sorry, Doctrex, for telling you more than you probably want to know … but we have so few visitors." She fell silent as we walked.

"No, Metra, it's good that you told me. Tell me this, though—these moods that she gets, does she have one more than another?"

"Oh, yes, she is a good child far more frequently than she is a naughty child."

"I see." Where were these questions coming from? I seemed compelled to ask them. I was vitally interested in her answers. I was eager to see Klea. "Do they come on her suddenly or do you gradually see a change coming over her?"

"More gradual than suddenly." She stopped and looked up at me, hopefully. "Are you a doctor?"

"No. I'm sorry. I'm asking too many questions."

"Oh, no, no, no! Please, Doctrex, your questions are helping me think in a different way." She started walking again. "It's not like one day she is one way and the next day she has changed."

"I see, but it could happen that way, couldn't it?"

"Well, yes—and it has. But, more often it's after we have had fun together as a family, playing games, or just talking. And, then, after a while one of us notices that she has grown silent."

"I see … and does it ever happen that she goes from happy and sociable gradually to silent and then back to happy? Or, does she always go from happy to silent to—naughty?"

"What an interesting question. I'll have to think about it." She did. "No, I'd have to say that when she's silent for long enough for us to notice it, she becomes naughty afterward."

I saw the cottage ahead just as she pointed it out to me. It was small, made, from all appearances, of white stone. The plot for the cottage had probably been cleared from the midst of a cluster of oak trees. The boughs were growing up against the thatched roof on either side of the cottage and I saw more of them to the rear. The carpet of pink flowers, which were present everywhere, went right up to their cottage, except where it had been evidently trimmed back from their cobblestone walk that led to the front door.

"What are these pink flowers," I asked Metra. "They seem to be everywhere."

"They're called Princess Tears; they grow only during the season of light."

I wanted to ask her more about them, but the door opened and the man I assumed to be Klasco occupied almost the entirety of the doorway. With a voice that matched his stature, he boomed, "Well, what have we here?" But no sooner had the words left his mouth than his face lit up with a broad grin beneath his untrimmed, brown mustache. His white shirt was rolled up above his tanned, muscular forearms. Here was a man not afraid of hard work. His heavy, scuffed work-boots supported my conjecture.

He thrust an open hand to me. "Name's Klasco. Klasco Braanz."

I accepted the hand that very nearly eclipsed mine. His grip was firm, but not boastful. "Pleased. My name's Doctrex." I saw he was waiting, his blazing smile fixed on me. "Just Doctrex."

"I've never heard the name before. Are you from the southern province?"

"I am … but—"

"Doctrex has been traveling up through the northern end," Metra told him. "He's an adventurer, dear. He's been traveling the northern provinces and works for food and a place to sleep. And then he's off again."

Klasco's smile was fully on his wife now, but his words were directed to me: "My dear Metra has done what she does best. I hope, Doctrex, you didn't have any secrets you were hoping to keep from her." He reached out his hand, now freed from mine, and placed it on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Of course," Metra smiled back at her husband, "I invited Doctrex to have dinner with us."

"Of course," he said, returning a full smile of his own.

Behind their smiles, they exchanged the briefest of glances that I assumed affirmed to him that Metra had discussed the issue of Klea with me and that I was all right with it. They had no way of knowing just how all right I was with it. I, myself, didn't know why I had such an interest in this mysterious child.

Klasco stepped aside so that Metra and Sarisa could go through first and once I entered he laid his arm, which felt as heavy as a shank of ham, across my shoulder, pausing long enough to close the door. "Our home is your home, Doctrex. It's small and modest, but there's love within these walls."

"That I can tell, sir." And I could. The house was immaculate. The hardwood floors glistened. A fresh bouquet of flowers was in a vase on the kitchen table; the fragrance filled the room. A black pot bubbled on the stove. I knew there was a bed to my right and to the rear, and that it was occupied, but I chose to keep my eyes averted from that direction until the introductions were completed. I didn't have long to wait.

"Doctrex, you've met our youngest daughter, Sarisa. Now, I'd like you to meet her older sister, Klea." I turned to see a beautiful young lady—not a child, as Metra's "naughty child" had led me to believe—perhaps fifteen or sixteen.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Klea."

She smiled and held out a hand, palm down.

I held it with both my hands, gently, until she withdrew it. I had the odd feeling she was expecting me to kiss her hand as a man might have done in an earlier time. Was she testing me? Was she playing me for a fool?
 
Klasco crossed in front of me to his daughter's bed, bent over and kissed her on the forehead.
 
"Hi, Daddy. I'm glad you are home now."

I thought that a strange thing to say, since he had been in the house with his daughter before he opened the door and invited us in. Why would she choose this moment to imply—what?—that he was not giving her the attention she needed?

He fluffed up the large pillows she was leaning against and then went behind her where he grasped her under her arms hoisted her to a better sitting position. "There, how's that? Would you like me to pull your bed closer to the table so you can eat with us? Or …" His voice trailed off.

"Of course she would want to eat dinner with the family. Wouldn't you dear?" Metra glanced at her husband, then back at Klea. "Doctrex is sharing dinner with us, Klea. It would be nice if we could all eat together. Don't you think it would be nice, dear?"

"Well, of course it would," said Klea. "That's what families do. Isn't that what families do, Doctrex?" She turned a full smile on me, but her eyes, with her brows lifted, were filled with hidden meaning. "Does your family eat their meals together?"

"Klea!" said both mother and father simultaneously, but less with censure than a kind of tired resignation.

Klea continued to smile at me. I smiled back. "I am an orphan, Klea. I have no parents."

"Everyone has parents."

"Yes, but I never knew them." I kept my smile and my voice steady. "It's easier to say I have no parents." I watched as Metra and Klasco drew together side by side, the top of her head at the level of his chest. As I was saying this I was feeling such a fraud. Of course I'm an orphan! It's not that I have no parents, I have no past! I'm cut off from everything in the past. And now—I felt a sudden rush of sorrow pour over me—now I've been cut off from one more link from my past. From Axtilla! You must remember me, Axtilla. Don't give up on me. Just a little longer and I'll be back with you.
 
"Darling," said Metra, "if you and Doctrex could roll the bed forward to the table, I'll bring the food from the stove."

As I was positioning myself at the side of the bed, I noticed that there were makeshift wooden wheels affixed to the legs of the bed frame. I pointed out their fine craftsmanship to Klasco. He was pleased, I could tell. Klea smiled down at me as her father and I guided her bed to the table.

Metra, hoisting the black pot from the stove, protected her hands from the searing heat with towels looped over the handles. She put the pot on the Iron trivet in the center of the table. Placing five large bowls around it, she retrieved oversized spoons, laying one beside each bowl. I felt myself salivating at the meaty smells of the steam wafting from the pot. She smiled at Klea as she turned to get the loaf of bread from the bin.

Klasco got the tray from where it was housed between the stove and the counter. He brought it to the table. Ladling some soup into the bowl, he went back to the pot for potatoes and carrots and a few chunks of meat. Putting the bowl on the tray, he glanced over at Klea who nodded. He cut the heel off the bread, setting it beside the bowl I assumed was his. Then he carved off a generous slice of bread and placed it on a folded cloth napkin, alongside the spoon. "Are you ready, my dear?"

Klea said she was and smoothed the blanket over her thighs. She received the tray, holding it at either end while she maneuvered her legs under the blanket until the tray rested securely on her lap.

Sarisa took her place at the table, staring sullenly at her bowl. She had seemed to sift into the background since we entered the house. This child who was so energetic before and so talkative now seemed to distance herself not only from me but from the rest of the family.

"Sarisa," her mother said, "don't you think it would be better to let our guest be seated first?"

"Yes, Mama," she said, getting up and scooting her chair back. She slipped behind it, her eyes downcast.

"Please don't make a fuss over me," I protested.

"Without manners," said Klasco, "we are little better than Pomnots."
 
INDEX
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shore of an alien land, without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Tablets of Kyre:  The spiritual teaching of the people of the Encloy (of which Axtilla is one).  Handed down from Kyre, they tell of the Bining and the Trining.
  • Bining:  Occurring five generations earlier, it was the alignment of one plane on another.  Kyre defined it as "a brief, incomplete lodging with rapid departure.  It could be no other."  Took place during 30 days of darkness and during that time all the Pomnots and those whose faith in the Encloy was not strong enough were drawn up into the Kojutake.
  • Trining:  A future event prophesied by Kyre as the "sudden, easy and complete translation of authority".  Pondria's arrival set the stage for this "overthrow".
  • Encloy:  The group of people known as the followers of the light.  Kyre, himself, was the original "point of light" in the darkness.  Others followed according to their specialties, with the one common denominator: they followed the light.
  • Kojutake:  1) the plane above the one where the Axtilla, Doctrex and the people of the Encloy exist.  The fierce Pomnots live there.  2) loosely speaking, the name of the impenetrable membrane that stretches out above them (high during the daytime, low at night), that separates one plane from the next.  3) the light-show that occurs every night.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Kyreans:  Another name for the people of the Encloy.  More general because it includes those who are not actually members of the Encloy.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
 
 
 

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. The previous chapter summary (which I consider essential) and the glossary comprise 704 words and appear to make a long chapter longer. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep that in mind.


Chapter 9
DOCTREX SPINS A YARN

By Jay Squires

NEW TO THE TRINING?  There are eight chapters with summaries at the beginning of each chapter, beginning with two and going through seven.  Now begins the summary for Chapter Eight: 
         Doctrex has been yanked into a new world by a child.  He is confused and angry over what has happened, but he is for the moment captivated by a land nothing like what he had seen through the membrane.  The sun is warm and glaring, trees are abundant and the ground is carpeted with pink flowers.  He tries to persuade the little girl to push him back through the opening, which had apparently disappeared.  She promises to do that after he plays with her.  She runs to hide.  Meanwhile, her mother comes.  Introduces herself as Metra and the little girl as Sarissa.  He is invited for dinner.  On the way to the cottage, she mentions her daughter Klea.  It's obvious she has some emotional problems and Doctrex questions Metra about them.  He becomes intrigued with Klea and is anxious to meet her.  Metra's husband, Klasco, meets them at the door.  Doctrex is welcomed warmly and they go inside.  As Metra Brings the stew pot to the table, he and Klasco pull Klea's bed nearby.  Palpable tension exists between Klea and Doctrex.

 
[Please Read the Author Notes First]

Chapter Nine

I whipped my head around. Thankfully, Klasco was looking at Sarisa so I figured I concealed my amazement from him. I glanced at Metra but she was heading for the cupboard for the glasses. Only Klea was watching me with something of a baffled smile.

"Doctrex," Klea began, "are you from the Southern Province?"

Metra turned and chuckled and Klea's eyes fell on her.

"Your mother's laughter," I explained, "is because you're the third person who's asked me that question, she being the first. I am originally from the southern province, but I haven't been there for some time. I've been traveling for so many years I call all and none of the provinces my home."

"Well put, Doctrex," said Klasco.

Klea, who seemed to be on the scent of something, said, "I don't know, Doctrex, you just seemed to have seen a ghost when Daddy mentioned the Pomnots. I'd have thought you'd been attacked by one."

"No, thank goodness!"

"What an interesting phrase," said Metra, as though she was trying to change the subject, "thank goodness." She stole a look at Klasco and then asked me if I would like to take a seat at the table.

I took the chair next to Sarisa. Metra sat to her left and Klasco took the chair beside mine, closest to the bed, I assumed so he could attend to Klea's needs.

"Still and all," Klea said, taking a spoonful of soup to her lips, blowing a ripple across the liquid, and holding the spoon poised at her mouth, "Still and all, Doctrex, I wonder, have you ever seen a Pomnot?"

I laughed, buying some time. I couldn't tell them about seeing the Pomnots ripping apart the creature during the Kojutake.

Klasco joined me in laughing. "You really shouldn't tease our guest, darling," he very gently chided her. "He's going to think we believe in them."

I turned to Klasco. What was he saying? That they were imaginary? Beyond him, I saw that Klea was studying me.

I laughed again. "Oh, I've been teased before, Klasco. A little teasing doesn't hurt anyone. I must tell you, though, I thought I encountered a Pomnot once …"

"You did?" little Sarisa asked, her eyes wide.

"Yes. You see, I was camping one night—"

"In the Northern Province?" Metra volunteered.

"Well, yes," I said, as if it were a given. "So I was sitting at the campfire when I heard a horrible ruckus out in the darkness behind me. Then, there was a groaning sound—a deep, mournful groaning." Everyone's eyes were on me and I was getting wrapped up in my own story. "So, I took one of the smaller logs from the fire and I ventured out into the darkness, holding it in front of me for light. I followed the sound of the deep groaning and a kind of a whisking sound, like someone pushing through the underbrush. By now I was so far from my campfire, it looked like a little coal in the distance, but I knew I had to continue on because if I didn't find the Pomnot now, it would certainly find me and devour me as I slept." I paused for effect. I noticed Klea returned the spoonful of soup back to the bowl.

"It was windy, with it blowing toward me, and the fire had gone out on the log I clutched, though there was enough of a coal to still give me some light. As it turned out, I didn't have much farther to go anyway."

"What do you mean?" Sarisa asked, short of breath.

"Just that, Sarisa. Not being able to move too fast, with the coal now almost extinguished, I inched my way forward. Off to my right, the groaning became more frighteningly loud. With my heart in my throat, and wanting to turn and run, I moved instead toward it."

"Suddenly," I said, and repeated it. "Suddenly … something plowed into my chest!"

"Oh!" cried Sarisa. "Was it the Pomnot?"

"I'll tell you what it was: the thing that plowed into my body was really something that I had plowed into. It was the trunk of a gigantic oak tree. I held the last of the coal up to the tree. Where two huge limbs crossed each other, rubbing together, they groaned in the wind. And it was the wind that carried that sound and also that of the rustling of leaves to me. The fearful mind is easily duped."

"Indeed it is," Klasco said.

At that point I realized they had been waiting for me to ladle soup into my bowl before they attended their own needs. I quickly filled my bowl, happy to see that two hearty chunks of meat were included with the vegetables and the broth. Klasco filled Sarisa's bowl, then Metra's, and finally his own.

Klea was eating her soup, but over the top of her raised spoon she was watching me.

"Please, Doctrex," said Metra, "enjoy your dinner. You must be famished with all your walking."

I took my first taste of the soup, savoring the rich broth on my palate. "I don't know when I've ever had anything taste so good."

Metra blushed. Klasco cut me a generous slice of bread and held it out to me on the end of the knife. I took it and bit off a piece. It was soft and yeasty. I didn't know if it would be poor manners to dip it in my soup, so I deferred until I saw Klasco do it and then I joined in. We ate our meal in silence, all but Klea enjoying a second helping. She continued her surveillance.

Metra and little Sarisa cleared the table, carting everything to the sink. Metra put a kettle of water on to boil, I assumed for the dishes.  Opening the door in the front of the stove with a towel, she shoved in one of the logs, stacked nearby.  She quickly closed the door against a vagrant spray of cinders and then tapped underfoot the ones that made it to the floor.

I brought my eyes from her to Klasco, who had his hands behind his head and was leaning back, tilting the chair precariously, the front legs three inches off the floor. "A bowlful of tobacco is nice after a meal. Would you care to join me outside?"

I told him I was not a smoker, but I would love to join him.

Klea interrupted our leaving with her words: "Daddy, I have a feeling Doctrex hadn't finished his story. It wasn't finished, was it?"

"I'm sure it was, darling," Klasco said. "He started by saying he thought he encountered a Pomnot and finished by describing his ordeal with the tree. Isn't that right, Doctrex?"

"Well, there is just a little more if you'd like to hear it."

Metra and Sarisa stopped what they were doing at the sink and turned toward me. A smile crinkled the corners of Klea's mouth.

"Well, if there's more, I, for one, want to hear it!" Klasco said, the front legs of his chair clicking back to the floor.

"Okay," I told them. "I did a good amount of chuckling at myself on my way back to the campfire. As I said, the fearful mind is easily duped. But, just being able to laugh at myself relieved me of much of that fear."

"Indeed!" Klasco said.

"But, when I got back to the campfire, my fear was revived!"

"What do you mean?" Metra, asked, laying a protective arm across Sarisa's shoulders.

"As I sat down by the campfire, I reached over for my rucksack. My activities had given me an appetite and I wanted a piece of the dried meat I had been hoarding for a time when my fortunes would be a bit leaner. My rucksack wasn't where I had left it. I crawled around looking for it. Had it simply disappeared I might have convinced myself I had left it at my last resting spot and just imagined I had seen it here. But, I had brought it with me and now saw it, some twenty feet away, opened and the contents scattered."

"But the meat was gone!" Klasco exclaimed in an anticipatory tone.

"Yes, as I expected."

"Probably one of the night animals."

"That was my thought."

"Don't keep us guessing, man!"

"I decided to wait until daylight to examine the evidence."

Klasco laughed, which I thought was curious, and then he looked at me as though he was expecting me to laugh, as well.

"So," he said, "it was the end of the dark cycle?"

"Yes," I told him, trying to regain the confidence his laughter had stolen. Then I remembered what Metra had said about the uneven day and night cycles."Of course it was. The change from dark to light and light to dark is a magical time and I try to always be a part of it. So I fed the fire and kept my vigil throughout the waning darkness. When the … light cycle commenced I carefully started to examine the surrounding area. I expected to see small paw prints. What I actually saw took my breath away." I waited until I saw them exchange glances and turn their eyes to mine before I continued: "You are a big man, Klasco, with much larger feet, I would imagine, than most, and yet the footprints I found could have held two of your feet in each one! The imprint of the great toe was as large as my fist."

"Do you think it was a Pomnot?" little Sarisa asked.

"I don't know, Sarisa, I've never seen one."

Klasco smiled at Sarisa. "I think, little sister, that is because the Pomnot does not really exist. But what does exist," he added, "is a pile of dishes you need to help your mother with while Doctrex and I go outside."

Metra and Sarisa turned to the dishes.

"Daddy," Klea said, "I shall probably be asleep when you come in, so if you don't mind I would like to ask Doctrex to clarify something for me. I'll not keep him long."

Klasco excused himself and left. She motioned for me. "Perhaps you can also push my bed back from the table while we talk."

I went to the foot of the bed and pushed it across the room and into the shadowy corner. She motioned me to her bedside. I glanced over to mother and child clinking the dishes at the sink, talking in soft tones.

"I was delighted by your story, Doctrex," she told me. And, in a subdued voice she added, "I said I wanted you to clarify something for me. Come here, please, this is meant for your ear only."

"I don't think—"

"Doctrex, I'm not going to bite you. Please …."

Reluctantly, I inclined my ear to her.

She brought her mouth so close I could feel the heat of her breath. "You are a fraud, Doctrex," she whispered. "I don't know how it's going to happen, but you will slip up and I shall expose you." Then, in her normal voice she said, "So, thank you so much for entertaining my family and me. I shall be looking forward to hearing more about your adventures."
 
#     #     #


 
GLOSSARY OF TERMS AND MAJOR CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shore of an alien land, without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Tablets of Kyre:  The spiritual teaching of the people of the Encloy (of which Axtilla is one).  Handed down from Kyre, they tell of the Bining and the Trining.
  • Bining:  Occurring five generations earlier, it was the alignment of one plane on another.  Kyre defined it as "a brief, incomplete lodging with rapid departure.  It could be no other."  Took place during 30 days of darkness and during that time all the Pomnots and those whose faith in the Encloy was not strong enough were drawn up into the Kojutake.
  • Trining:  A future event prophesied by Kyre as the "sudden, easy and complete translation of authority".  Pondria's arrival set the stage for this "overthrow".
  • Encloy:  The group of people known as the followers of the light.  Kyre, himself, was the original "point of light" in the darkness.  Others followed according to their specialties, with the one common denominator: they followed the light.
  • Kojutake:  1) the plane above the one where the Axtilla, Doctrex and the people of the Encloy exist.  The fierce Pomnots live there.  2) loosely speaking, the name of the impenetrable membrane that stretches out above them (high during the daytime, low at night), that separates one plane from the next.  3) the light-show that occurs every night.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Kyreans:  Another name for the people of the Encloy.  More general because it includes those who are not actually members of the Encloy.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco: The husband and father of the Braanz family.
  • Metra: Wife and mother of the Braanz family.
  • Sarissa: The youngest Braanz child.
  • Klea: The older Braanz child.
 











 

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. The previous chapter summary and the glossary comprise 611 words and appear to make a chapter longer. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep that in mind.


Chapter 10
THE PROPOSAL

By Jay Squires

NEW TO "THE TRINING"?  There are summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and going to Cha. 9.  Each summarizes the previous chapter.  What follows is a summary of Chapter 9: 

Doctrex is at the Braanz dinner table with Klasco, his wife Metra and their daughters, Sarisa and Klea.  Before they eat, Doctrex spins a tall tale about his encounter with what he thought was a Pomnot, but which turned out to be a tree groaning in the wind on a dark, dark night.  But after he seeks out this "Pomnot" and returns to his campfire he discovers his rucksack had been opened and the contents strewn.  And, then, at daybreak, he sees huge footprints.

Klea watches, suspiciously, as he tells his tale and before he joins Klasco outside for a smoke, she calls him over and whispers in his ear that he is a fraud.  She doesn't know how or when, but she promises to expose him.
 
 

Chapter Ten
 
 
The pungency of Klasco's tobacco, even though outside, attacked my senses. I stood off a bit to his side and out of the path the smoke was taking. He continued to blow plumes of the curious blue-gray smoke at an upward angle, I assumed to keep from offending me.

His face had a distant, somewhat troubled look—and now I wasn't even sure he knew I was there.

Klea's words had put me in a dark mood. I really wanted to be alone for a while, anyway, to sort out my feelings about this intelligent, outspoken young lady. I had spun a tall tale for sure, and I knew while I was creating my yarn that I was passing off my fiction as truth. But it was harmless fun; everyone seemed to enjoy hearing it, even Sarisa—especially Sarisa! Even if Klea had picked up on a serious inconsistency in my story that branded it for what it was, couldn't she still see it as simple entertainment? Why was she so intent on exposing me?

"Do you enjoy being an adventurer, Doctrex?" Klasco asked me with such unexpected abruptness that my self-indulged thoughts were jarred.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your adventures—do you enjoy them?"

I knew there was something behind his question. "I enjoyed adventuring more when I was young." I was beginning to feel fraudulent, now. But, how could I tell him—how could I tell anyone—there was no young. I had no history beyond waking on the shore; and, still I was hell-bent on inventing a person. And, I didn't like this bogus person so very much now. Perhaps Klea would be right to expose me.

I glanced over to see Klasco smiling at me.

"How old are you," he asked, "eight?"

I laughed. It was a spontaneous response to the ludicrous, but when I saw his smile turn to a puzzled expression I realized, to him, the question wasn't ludicrous.

"You can't be older," he said. "I'm eight D's, and I can't believe you're older than I."

My response had to be quick and justify my laughter. "I'm nine D's," I said, forcing a big smile. But, I was still baffled. He was not using years as a measurement of age. Then I connected. They were in their daytime cycle now. D must have stood for Day. I had to try to think it through. How many of our years were in a cycle? I took a quick glance at him: his hair, the lines around his eyes, the flesh under his chin. Klasco appeared to be about forty and he took me to be his age. I did some quick calculation: eight D's into forty equaled five. That would make five years equal one D. I told him I was nine D's old, which would mean I was trying to pass myself off as forty-five. My head was spinning. The whole thing was speculation! I had no way of really knowing; no way of testing my theory. Wait! Maybe I did.

"Klasco, you have a wonderful family. Little Sarisa … she's so bright. How old is she, about two D's?" In my estimation, she acted like a typical ten-year-old, give or take a year or two.
 
"One—until the dawn. You know, you don't look a whole D older than I, Doctrex."
 
"When I'm on an adventure, though, I feel like it." Just like that, we were back at the beginning of the conversation. I waited for Klasco to pick up the thread again. When he didn't, but, instead, stared out beyond the vast meadow, seemingly oblivious of my presence, and continued to draw in the smoke and release it, I thought I'd give the conversation a nudge. "Are you thinking of going on an adventure yourself, Klasco?"

He looked over at me, the expression of profound sadness on his face. "If voluntary conscription is an adventure, my friend, yes."

"Voluntary? Conscription? But, the two contradict each other, don't they?"

"Normally they do. Doctrex …" He paused to tap his pipe's bowl against the heel of his hand until the ember loosened and fell to the ground, where he stepped on it. "In your travels to the Northern Province you must have experienced the rumblings from the far north."

It seemed safe enough to pursue. "What do you mean by rumblings, Klasco?"

"You know how they are. They've always desired to expand their territories."

"Well, yes, that! But, you know how your perspective differs depending on where you are and who you hear it from. So, tell me from your perspective here."

"What you say is true. You've traveled widely. Ours is a village life. We're not as cosmopolitan in our outlook here."

"I really want to know, Klasco. What is the rumbling from the far north … from your perspective? Surely their power wouldn't extend—"

"Oh, but it would. It would! I was at the Counsel of Twelve meeting these last two days at Kabeez—"

"Kabeez." I needed another piece of information. "Kabeez. And how far is Kabeez from here?"

"Oh, I don't know, a hundred units, I'd say. Why?"

I tucked away the idea of units. Not miles. Not kilometers. Units. "I've heard of it, but never been there. That's all. So, you think the far north threatens to expand all the way to Kabeez?"

"I've no doubt of it. Under the previous regime the relationship between the far Northern Province and those to the south were strained but a kind of tender peace was maintained. But when Nimnz was overthrown and Glnot Rhuether took over control—"

I was sure Klasco heard my sharp intake of air. "You said Glnot Rhuether?"

"Ah, so you've heard of him."

"Yes. From here and there." My mind was racing.

"Then you've probably heard what a treacherous beast he is."

For the next several minutes I was aware of a kind of muffled talking in the background, but I was in the world of my own thoughts. Axtilla! You are determined to break through Kojutake and ultimately confront Glnot Rhuether I learned so much about you in so short a time but you never told me how you would break through. If only I could tell you to look for a little girl hanging through the barrier. She'll pull you into a world you wouldn't believe. Dear, dear Axtilla. Is there another gate to the far Northern Province? Was that another piece of the mystery you hadn't time to tell me of yet? Or, did Kyre instruct you in your dream? Both of our destinies are to confront Glnot Rhuether. Please, Axtilla, let me lead the way!

"… said the head was delivered to him on a stake."

"Who?" I hoped I hadn't missed anything pertinent. "I'm sorry, Klasco. One of the curses of being alone much of the time. I follow the trail of a thought until I'm lost to my environment. Please, tell me again about the head delivered on a stake."

"When word came to Glnot Rhuether that his troops had captured Nimnz, they were told to bring his head to him on the end of a stake. He wanted his people to know in an immediate and real way what his power was."

"Or, how demented … but, still, to think he would expand his—what?—his empire clear down—"

"Without a doubt, Doctrex, and we cannot begin to stand up against him. Our history tells us the middle to the southern provinces have had forty Ds of peace."

I calculated forty times five and came up with two-hundred years.

"With that much peace armies become ceremonial only. There is no professional army. The soldiers get weak. Borders go unprotected. And the people have no mind-set for conflict."

"I understand. It's all light, without the balance of darkness," Doctrex mused, aloud, thinking of Axtilla again, but without his thoughts carrying his attention aloft this time.

Klasco cocked his head. "Light without the balance of darkness. Why, yes. Exactly that." He put his hand on my right shoulder. "Promise me this, Doctrex. That you'll tell no one of our conversation. Especially not Metra or the children. I have a decision to make. I needed someone to talk with, someone who will understand.

"Nothing beyond us."

"Thank you, friend." He put his other hand on my unoccupied left shoulder, gave me a smile and them a squeeze before releasing them. "So … here's my dilemma—and what is forcing me into a decision: there is no professional army, no voluntary army. Our Council of Twelve decided, with the councils of the high-southern and the mid-northern in full-agreement, that we need to take an all-out stand against the far-north. And, soon, with the element of surprise being our best weapon."

"That makes sense."

"To you and to me … but it was a popular decision only in the general, theoretical sense. As soon as the ground rules were laid out there was considerable grumbling among the body of constituents of each of the Twelve in the Council. When it came time to say 'you and you and you must go,' the protesting began. 'But, I've got crops to plant or harvest!' 'I've got bad feet.' 'My back would give out.' Or, 'My boys are too young for battle.'  This last complaint was especially heart-rending."

"But you mentioned voluntary conscription."

"Yes, well …the Council agreed there should be some natural exemptions to conscription. There had to be a body of leadership on the home front. They would be the ones to strategize, to supervise the supplies and the training. The Council of Twelve was therefore exempt. Then came the elderly, the infirm, women and young children. I would have been doubly exempt, having a family of females who would be left without a protector."

"And, how did you feel about that, Klasco?"

"I think you know how I felt—how I feel—about it! I am conflicted. Part of me feels my life is no more important than a three-D boy who has his whole life before him. Another part of me feels the overwhelming need to protect my own wife and girls. On the other hand, if I voluntarily conscript, word would spread like wildfire. I could be in the far north a quarter-D, or even longer. Metra is still young and pretty. Klea can't protect herself. And then there's—" His voice caught—"there's Sarisa."

"That is a dilemma. And, also, your decision to go would be setting an unfavorable precedent for the others in the council. Had you thought of that?"

"Yes, I have." He rolled the pipe-stem back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. Opening his mouth as if to say something, he then closed it. He smiled at me, but didn't hold it for long. Clearing his throat, he spoke my name, looked away and then back. "Doctrex, I've only known you for a brief time. And yet I feel I couldn't know you better if you'd been my neighbor for a D or more."

"I'm flattered."

"Yes, but, well … I need to make a proposal, and—and you must feel free to accept or reject."

I thought I knew what he was going to ask. And, if I were right I'd have no option but to reject it.

"You've been an adventurer for a long time, Doctrex. You told me yourself that it's not as easy as it was when you were younger."

"Yes, but—"

"No, hear me out, my friend. Please …. I'm inviting you to take a half to a D off from your wanderings. Stay here on my property. Of course I would build you a room beside our house so you would have your privacy. You'd be able to take your meals in our house, though. And you'd earn enough credits for your work here so you'd be able to adventure in style upon my return."

I wanted to find out what his work was, but I was reluctant to ask, at this point, for fear of his taking it as an interest in his proposal. I rehearsed the word credits as a medium of exchange while I waited for him to continue.

"You would satisfy my need to perform my duty while freeing me of the fear for my family's safety." I think he saw the answer in my eyes and was quick to add: "I don't even want you to make a decision on this now. Maybe the counsel of sleep will help you arrive at a wiser decision than you would make now. So—"

"Klasco, I could sleep with this proposal for a D, but at the end of that time my answer would be the same. I must reject your offer."

His shoulders sagged. "Doctrex, please don't say no yet."

"I must."

"But, why?"

"Because I'm going in your place. You belong here. I don't."

"You can't be serious."

"I've never been more serious. Does the Counsel of Twelve know of your intentions?"

"I was planning to tell them tomorrow, after I'd persuaded you to accept my proposal."

"Instead, Klasco, you will introduce the Counsel to your brother."

He seemed to consider it for the first time. "I don't know …. What would be your reason for being here? Do you know anyone in the Village besides us? They never heard me mention my brother."

I thought about it a while. "Well, if my wife had died and I had no children and was distraught, you'd have invited me to spend some time with you and your family. Once here, I was a natural choice for your proposal. But, feeling I had nothing to live for anyway I begged you to let me replace you in battle."

Klasco studied me a long time without speaking. "And, what is your real reason for wanting to go to battle."

"I want to tell you. And, I promise I'll do it on our way to Kabeez. But, right now I am weary and to your wife I'm sure it's been a very long smoke." I stepped off the porch. "On our way to your cottage earlier, I saw an inviting cluster of trees with a brook nearby. I will sleep there. Tomorrow we can leave for Kabeez."

He protested that they had a mat and blankets and I could sleep on the floor, but I thought of Klea and held firm; we parted, agreeing to get an early start after breakfast.

 
Cast of Characters
 
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shore of an alien land, without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
 
 

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. The previous chapter summary and the glossary comprise 704 words and appear to make a long chapter longer. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep that in mind.


Chapter 11
TOWARD KABEEZ

By Jay Squires

NEW TO "THE TRINING" ADVENTURE?  There are summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and going to Cha. 9.  Each summarizes the previous chapter.  What follows is a summary of Chapter 10: 

With Klea’s words threatening disclosure of his fraudulence still ringing in his ears, Doctex goes out to join Klasco, who is having an after dinner smoke in front of the cottage.  Klasco makes a proposal for Doctrex to watch over his family while he is off to fight Glnot Rhuether in the Far Northern Province.  Doctrex refuses, but volunteers to take his place in the Army that would be leaving soon.  Klasco suggests they leave the next day for Kabeez where Doctrex, posing as his brother, would seek permission from the Council of Twelve.
 

Chapter Eleven
 
 
I woke after a fragmented and fitful sleep.  A feeling lingered with me that Axtilla had visited me, that she had come to deliver a message so vital, that not heeding it in its entirety would bring about something bad—something very bad.  My waking mind needed something specific, even for the direst of messages.  Yet, strangely it was only a feeling, however compelling.  It was not articulated.  Nor could I say with certainty that it was even she who had delivered it, for the moment I focused my attention on Axtilla I found myself looking into Klea's face.  And, every time either of their mouths was opened to deliver the urgency of the message … the language became foreign to me.

I woke sweating, and my joints ached from the tension.

At the bottom of the small ravine next to my encampment, a brook gurgled.  I made my way down the bank, removed my shirt and splashed the icy water on my chest, stomach and arms.  Scooping water into my palms, I threw it against my face.  Another scoop I poured over my hair and pushed my fingers through like a comb.

Feeling refreshed, I put my shirt back on, scaled the bank and headed toward the cottage. Klasco was already hitching up a gray and a chestnut mare to a wagon, speaking to them warmly like they were old friends and stroking their manes.  I was no expert, but I noticed immediately that these horses were different from any I'd ever seen.  Their faces were equine, with the elongated necks and flowing manes; but they seemed broader through the chest, while their backs sloped gradually to hindquarters that were decidedly smaller than any I'd seen before.

Klasco was so engrossed he didn't see me at first, but when he did, his face erupted into a grin.

"My friend, Doctrex, I trust you slept better than we.  Klea had a bad time of it.  And, the poor dear, when she is troubled we all have a bad sleep."

"I'm sorry.  Is she all right now?"  I wondered how much her parting words with me contributed to her bad time of it.  Judging from his cordial greeting, she evidently hadn't shared those words with them.

"She's sleeping now.  Everyone is sleeping, so I got us some bread, a bottle of wine and dried meat."  He climbed in and took the reins.  "They are beauties, eh?"

"Ah, yes, I was admiring them."

"They are older now, but when I got them they were of the finest crossan stock in Kabeez.

I made mental note.  That would be a word I'd likely be using again.  Making the association with croissant would help me to remember it.  "Yeah, they're definitely some beautiful crossans."

I went around the rear of the wagon, rather than take any chance of spooking them, and climbed aboard.  The seat had either been hand-sanded, polished and buffed smooth or it was worn smooth from years of riding.  Either way it should make for a more comfortable journey.  Klasco made a sound with his tongue that the crossans were familiar with and gave the reins a shake.  The chestnut snorted and they lumbered forward, tossing back those ubiquitous little pink and white flowers from under their hooves at each step.  Once they started moving, the crossans knew their route well.  They angled off to the right across the meadow until we arrived at a hard-packed dirt road.

We rode along without talking for the first few miles.  Klasco hummed a tune in a velvety baritone while I occupied my time noting how the oak tree clusters were thinning.  Before long, we came upon a field of rich black soil, whose perfectly symmetrical rows stretched away from us across who knew how many acres.  The raised mounds between the rows held small green clumps, about six inches apart.  After about a hundred yards, the distance between the clumps seemed to disappear as the rows grew closer together and all was replaced by a lush green carpet spread out over hill and valley clear to the horizon.
 
"So, this is the work you were going to have me take over?" I asked.

He interrupted his humming to grin at me. His words weren't necessary.

"No, Klasco."  I shook my head, smiling. "I’m more convinced than ever, this is where you belong."

"Perhaps, but will you tell me why you feel such a need to replace me in battle?"

"I will, my friend—at least I'll try."  I closed my eyes and struggled mightily with myself over where I should start.  Was there anyplace that would have him think I was anything but a madman?  And, yet I had to try.

"Klasco, do you ever awaken from a dream you know you had and something from it is tugging at your waking self to remember it—?"

"Of course."

"But wait.  That's not entirely what I mean.  So, you know you had this dream but you only remember, on waking, bits and disconnected pieces of it.  And, throughout the day, while you are out in your fields, or at dinner with your family, something you see or that someone says connects with a piece of the dream.  Like a little flash of light immediately swallowed by darkness."

"Yes, but we all—"

"Yes, yes, yes!" I found myself nearly shouting, and seeing the stunned expression on Klasco's face, I laid a hand on his shoulder.  "I'm sorry, but—but you know who you are:  I am Klasco Braanz.  I am 4 Ds old.  I remember my childhood, when I fell in love and married Metra.  I remember the birth of my children.  You know yourself so well that you can't imagine what it would be like not to know yourself.

"But, suppose one morning you wake up and there is no Klasco Braanz.  Moreover, you find yourself in a place you've never been before.  You do have that feeling of a dream, however, with an inner nudging that if you could just recapture it you would find your identity in it.  Now, there is a you in the sense that your eyes see you have a body, it has all the other working senses.  You have things you like and things you don't like.  You want meat to eat, for instance.  You don't want to eat roots or grass.  You feel pain, fear, and other emotions.  The only thing is … there is no Klasco Braanz.

"But, even though you have no identity you have a language and a shared history with others.  You know this because—"  I paused to take a deep breath.  "You know this because, while you have no identity, you know certain facts like how many inches there are in a foot."
He looked at me with a puzzled smile.

"Yes," I said, "and how many feet there are in a mile.  And, if you know how many miles it is from your cottage to Kabeez, you'd be able to tell me how many hours it will take to get there."

"Why are you talking like that?" he asked, still smiling, but the corners of his mouth showing a trace of irritation.  "What miles? What hours?"

"Exactly!" I said.  "You are feeling the same confusion I felt when I heard Ds, instead of years and units instead of miles and credits instead of dollars and cents."

"I still don't understand."

"Then, try this on for size, my friend."  I took in another lungful of air.  "I am a fraud.  I am an imposter.  I fooled you.  I fooled Metra.  Sarisa knows more than you can imagine.  I'll have to explain more about that later.  Only Klea saw through me.  Just before I came outside, she told me I was a fraud.  And, that when she was able to prove it she would expose me."  I watched as his expression changed.  "Oh, Klasco, don't be angry with Klea.  She was only trying to protect her family from someone she saw as vaguely threatening.  She is terribly bright and intuitive."

"I still don't understand any of this.  But, from what you are telling me about my family, I'm starting to get a little troubled—no!  Angry.  I don't like having things about my family kept from me."

"I understand why you would feel that way.  Please, try to be patient.  Soon you'll know everything.  I can't say for certain you'll believe me, but I'll have told you all I can tell you.  And, what you do after that will be up to you."

"Go on, then."

"Getting back to waking up not knowing who you are but with that feeling of having dreamed all of your actual life and having only bits and pieces coming back to you.  So, here you are.  You can understand the people around you and they can understand you.

"Not knowing what type of work you did in your other life, yet knowing you have to survive, you inquire about a sign in a bakery window about the owner needing an experienced baker.  You begin your life of fraud, keeping your eyes and ears open.  You soon discover that the methods of measurement are different from what you know.  Instead of teaspoons, tablespoons, and cups this baker is using—klibbles, klabbles and klungs."

Klasco smiled, but briefly, and it was replaced by a look of stern skepticism.

"One day, while making bread, you pick up a bag of wheat flour.  On the bag is a picture of a sheaf of wheat.  There suddenly flashes in your mind a wheat field at harvest, perhaps the sunlight glinting off the blade of a scythe.  It makes an important connection to you, but as quickly as it comes, it disappears."

Klasco sighed loudly.  "Is any of this going anywhere?"

"Not as well or as quickly as I'd hoped," I admitted.  "But, with that as background, I'll tell you as exactly as I can what happened to me.  Just know, my friend, however implausible, or impossible, it seems it is the truth as I see it.  First of all, let me start with my name:  It is not Doctrex.  At its proper moment in my story I'll tell you why that name was chosen and who gave it to me.
 
#
 
For the next hour, while the crossans plodded forward, their thick shoulders knotted and moving under their harnesses, I told of my birth about a month earlier as a baffled but fully functioning man.  I explained why I couldn't be sure how long ago it was because I was unconscious for a goodly amount of time, and almost died, owing to a birthing wound, or an injury that occurred in my previous life which I carried into my birth.  I noted by the set of his jaw and his stony stare, that his skepticism was not remedied by my tale.  I was determined, though, to tell him the truth as I knew it at the time and let the chips fall where they may. My narrative introduced him to the sea that was red, huge-eyed Axtilla who attacked me, tried to kill me, and, then brought me from the edge of death back to life in the cave by the sea.  And, in the process, her eyes took on more normal proportions, though they were still beautifully larger than most.  My throat started getting raspy and my eyes bleary as I talked about Axtilla, and I had to turn away from him for a moment to gather my emotions.
 
"There's no hiding the fact that I have feelings for this woman, Axtilla.  She's fighting a solitary battle against the ignorance of her people, and, if she has her way she's about to fight the battle of her life against Glnot Rhuether!"

"Glnot Rhuether!  You said you only heard of him from here and there."

"Yes, I did.  You have to understand I wasn't prepared to say any more than that when you dropped his name in our conversation so abruptly.  It caught me by surprise.  It was clashing with the fraudulent role I was playing.  I wasn't prepared to tell you then about Axtilla."  I paused, gathered my thoughts.  "Klasco, I promised I'd tell you the whole truth about me and leave it up to you to believe me or not.  But, I let my feelings push me ahead of myself.  Let me go back and do it in the order it happened."

He nodded and I continued with my story staying as closely as I could to the sequence of events.  I tried my best to eliminate conversations and actions that were incidental to the narrative, though they introduced subtle changes in our trust of each other, and for me, at least, my growing feelings of endearment.  At one point I explained Axtilla's early obsession with establishing me as a mythological Pondria, and Klasco stopped me.

"Say again?"

"Pondria?" I asked.

"Yes, tell me about Pondria."

"According to her people’s legend, Pondria would come to their country—their province—from the sea.  He supposedly was Glnot Rhuether's brother, and was washed up on the shore after being separated, somehow, from him.  Since Axtilla discovered me on the shore, she assumed my identity and immediately set out to kill me."

"I know of the legend.  It was part of the mythology of the Kyreans.

It was my turn to be amazed.  "Kyreans!"
 
"Yes.  All children are taught about it in school.  Sarisa could tell you more about it than I.  But, myth has it that the Kyreans were an ancient civilization, more than a thousand Ds ago."

Five thousand years ago?  "Where did the Kyreans get their name?"

He scratched his head.  "I'm no expert.  Sarisa or Klea could explain for sure what the myth says, but I believe Kyre was the original leader.  Either that or their god."

"And, do you know what finally happened to the Kyreans—that caused them to die out?

"I know what the myth tells us.  And, it's too obvious for the intelligent person not to see there is a strong parallel between the Kyreans and the people of our provinces.  In fact that was an integral part of our agenda at the Counsel of Twelve.  Our concern, as I mentioned before, was the physical, mental and spiritual weakness of our citizens.  We had been at peace for so many Ds, we'd lost the ability to flex our muscles—actually and figuratively.  Myth tells us that was precisely what happened to the Kyreans.  With no outside threat to their peace, they became weak, lazy, and then slothful.  When something from outside finally did attack them they were powerless against it."

"Does the myth tell what that outside force was?"

“It was as though the myth simply withered at that spot.  And the Dark Force descended upon them.  They were too weak to defend against it."

"Then, that's how it ended?—The myth?  That the Dark Force descended upon them?”

"Which is why the Counsel of Twelve took the final words of the Kyrean Myth to be so full of meaning for us.  The Dark Force is Glnot Rhuether and his army.  Attacking us from the North describes descending upon us."

I decided to take a chance.  "Or, it could be the Trining."  It was the first time I literally saw a person's mouth drop open.  His eyes grew large and his breathing rapid.

"Where did you hear of—that?"

"Trining?"

He thrust a warning open palm toward me.  "We do not talk about that!"

"But, why?"  I tried a smile.  It vanished when I saw his hand ball to a fist.  I held up my hands in the classic gesture of surrender.  "Okay …  Okay …"

His fist loosened, but he was back to his cold, suspicious stare.  "Who are you?  You're one of them, aren't you?  And, to think I invited you into our home."

"Klasco, you're only hurting yourself to believe that.  I don't even know who one of them is.  I can only assume you mean one of Glnot Rhuether's men, since they're who we've been talking about.  Listen, I'm telling you the truth when I say I don't know who I am.  But, I know who I'm not.  I’m asking you to take it on faith I'm not one of them.  I would pit my very life against them, or any other force, in order to get to Rhuether before Axtilla does.  Back when you trusted me enough to watch over your family while you were off to battle Glnot Rhuether, you told me you couldn't know me better than if you'd been my neighbor for a D or more."  I looked him straight in the eyes.  "I am that same person, Klasco."

He sighed.  "Of course you are, Doctrex."  He tugged the reins to the right and the crossans responded, opening their mouths against the bits.  A string of frothy slobber hung down from the Chestnut's mouth as the crossans pulled off the dirt road and into a hard patch of green, beside a brook.  The gray mare turned his great neck and head to look quizzically at his master.  "While the crossans rest, drink and eat we'll come to an understanding about … that word … and after we break bread and drink our wine, we can begin our journey again and you can finish your story."
 
*     *     *

Cast of Characters and Terms
 
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shore of an alien land, without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force.


 

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Cast of Characters and Terms. The previous chapter summary and the glossary comprise 704 words and appear to make a long chapter longer. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep that in mind.


Chapter 12
THE PAPPERING INCIDENT, ETC.

By Jay Squires

NEW TO “THE TRINING” ADVENTURE?  There are summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 10.  What follows is a summary of Cha. 11.

Doctrex takes on the daunting task of trying to explain to Klasco he has no memory of his past.  He goes through many mental gyrations to get his ideas across such as the remembering of only fragments of dreams.  Throughout all this, tensions rise.  At one point he explains that he is a fraud but that this is the only way he could survive.  He finally tells how Klasco's younger daughter knows more than she’s letting on and his older daughter wants to expose him (Doctrex) as a fraud.

Klasco’s temper flares when Doctrex inadvertently uses terms he’d learned from Axtilla, but which had different (and emotionally charged) meanings in the Provinces.

 
Chapter Twelve
 
[THE FIRST PART]
 
Klasco didn't let the crossans have their fill of water before he pulled them back from the brook.  "They won't know when to stop," he said.  He stroked their manes and spoke to them lovingly.  In a few moments he had the feed bags strapped to them and I watched their ears twitching merrily as they ate.

"And, now it's our turn," he said.  He uncorked the red wine and poured two cupsful, which he put on the seat between us, and replaced the bottle to the basket.  Then, unfolding an oilcloth, he removed two generous strips of jerked meat and handed me one.  He clamped one end of the other between his teeth while he refolded the cloth and returned it.  Finally, he held out the loaf of bread to me and leaned against the seat back; ripping off a chaw of jerky, he chewed it meditatively while he watched the crossans.

I tore off the end-piece of bread.  The outside crust was hard and unyielding to the touch but the inside was soft.  It had a pleasant, yeasty smell.  I pinched out some of the interior and put it in my mouth.  I was hungrier than I thought.  Holding the remaining loaf out to him, I took the cup of wine.

"A toast," I said.

He turned from the crossans to look at me.  "A toast?" he repeated, but sounding a little like a question, and extended his wine cup toward mine.

"To our new brotherhood," I said, and clinked it to his.

Just for an instant he looked stunned, and then he repeated, "Our new brotherhood, yes."

He followed my lead and we brought the cups to our lips.

The wine was warm and fruity.  It felt good going down.

I watched him take a drink and then another.  I had the feeling he was rehearsing something, planning the exact wording of what he wanted to say to me.  He took a final drink and set the cup down.

"Doctrex, I will be telling you something that must be kept only between us.  It came from the Counsel of Twelve.  The penalty for disclosure would be dire.

"Nothing will be heard from me."

"I believe you, Brother."  He drained his cup.  "I told you before, didn't I, that the enemy is among us?"

"Not in so many words.  I assumed they would be."

"In a Kabeez tavern, one of the regulars there, and quite popular with all the local Kabeezans because he was jovial and generous with his money, got very, very drunk one evening.  No one had seen him get that drunk before.  He was not his jovial self.  In fact he had become surly. When it was time for the tavern to close, three young Kabeezans escorted him home as a precaution against any robbers who might have tried to ambush him.  He complained that as drunk as he was he would have an easier time fighting off the robbers than his three, or five or ten protectors.  Especially since the robbers would also be Kabeezans."

"That's hardly a way for him to try to blend in with the Kabeezans.  Did they figure him, then, as an infiltrator?"

"If they didn't at that time it was because he was generally so likeable and, as I said, so free with his money."  He took a piece of bread in his mouth, and then spoke around it as he chewed.  "But as he continued to drink on the way to his cottage, he became sullen and homesick—if not patriotically so.  It was then that he used the code-word Trining in describing the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether's army against all the provinces.  He was described by one of the three escorts as appearing 'shocked' when he heard himself use the word, but afterwards he shrugged and then openly boasted about how devastating it would be for the Provinces when the Trining came.”

"So, was he arrested?"

"They planned on addressing the Counsel on the following day, which was the proper protocol, there being little in the way of law enforcement."

"But he was gone," I guessed.

"Like he was never there.  And, no one ever saw him again in Kabeez."

I downed the last large swallow from my cup.  My mind was swimming—not from the wine but from unanswered questions.  Axtilla and Klasco both used the word Trining, but Klasco's Trining, however devastating to the provinces, was small potatoes compared to Axtilla's metaphysical one.  The Trining was so powerful a force, she told me, it stilled Kyre's voice in the Tablets.  The Tablets ended with the Trining.  Was the Trining then a doomsday event?  The apocalypse?

"More wine?"

Klasco's words yanked me out of my thoughts.  "Not if I'm to be awake when we meet the council."

"That won't be until after one more sleeping."

What lengths he goes to just to avoid the use of night or tomorrow since one day seems to slide into the next with no darkness separating them!  It must be the wine.

"There is an inn about 20 units from here.  We can eat and sleep there, and then get an early start for Kabeez."

He removed the feedbags, gave the crossans leave to hang their long necks to the brook a while longer and then he hitched them back to the wagon.

"I think you have more to tell me," he said, pulling the reins to the left and guiding the crossans back to the dirt road.

"And, where did I end?"

"I stopped you as you were telling me how—what is her name?"

"Axtilla."

"You were telling me how Axtilla thought you were Pondria, the mythological brother to Glnot Rhuether."

"To her it was not mythological.  It was very real.  She tried to kill me after I had washed up on the shore of—"

"The shore?  So you were at the western shore of the Far South Province?"

"It will always remain a mystery to me ,” I went on, without answering him, “why a person who initially tried to kill me ended up taking me, unconscious, to her cave where she proceeded to mend my wound, to bring me back from the brink of death."

I could tell he wanted to interrupt me but he held his tongue.

"Once I was fully conscious—and remember this was after drifting in and out of consciousness for I don't know how long a time—we began to talk."  I struggled with explaining the phenomena of her speech patterning, or whatever it was.  "You see, her words seemed to come from a source separate from her mouth.  There was, at first, a lag between the word coming out of her mouth and the movement of her lips necessary to say the word."  I was about to give up.  "Do you have any idea what I mean?"

"Well, of course I do.  It's the way every child first learns to talk.  You know—how they papper?  The brain is working faster than the mouth, so the words come out and then the lips move."

I must have had a look of amazement on my face.  It wasn't how I’d observed any child saying its first words.  But, I didn't see any point of digressing any more.

"Soon, mind and body begin to synchronize."  Then he paused.  "What is curious, though, is that since she wasn't an infant, that means she did not speak Grossling?"

Grossling!  Papper!  The fact that Klasco and his family didn’t go through the same linguistic gyrations with me as Axtilla had meant there was a close relationship between English and their Grossling. One more conundrum to try to work out.

"Apparently she didn't, but she was certainly a fast learner," I said.

"It doesn't have anything to do with being a fast learner.  It's something that’s never forgotten."  He looked at me like he was explaining something that didn't need explanation.  "It's how the people from the Far Southern Provinces can understand the language of the people from the Far Northern Provinces.  You're doing it, yourself, Brother.  How do you think you understand Grossling?"  He stared at me again, and then smiled.  "See?  You understand?"

"I understand it's convenient you speak English."

"En-glish?" he repeated, and I could swear there was just a touch of pappering going on.

"Grossling," he said, with finality, but without anger.  "You can do it the easy way or the hard way, Brother.  You can learn your tables and conversions and not say anything until the numbers you wait for come into your head, or you can just say five miles or three tablespoons or one cup and be confident that your listener is pappering the conversions and tables for you—with this difference: he doesn't know he's doing it, either."  He smiled again and tapped his forehead.

“The language thing—I—I don't know.  I think we'll have some more to say on it later.  But let me go on with what happened with Axtilla and me.  After I was well enough to travel she decided we should leave the cave.  I don't think it was clearly expressed what we were leaving for.  It was probably for firewood or food, but that's not important.  Whatever it was she was anxious for us to get an early start so we would get back before dark."

"Dark!" Klasco said, unable to contain himself.  "How many Ds ago was this?"

"Klasco—my way, Brother, please!  There are some experiences your mind is not ready to process.  This is one of them.  Later, I think you’ll be able to accept the truth of it, although you may not ever understand it.”

He shook his head with exasperation.  "Go ahead. Talk."

*     *     *

 
CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
 
 

Author Notes THANK YOU KHarrison on FanArtReview.com for your hauntingly beautiful Picture.

NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. In the interest of space, I will keep only those names and terms that I've recently referred to, archiving the currently unused ones for possible use in a later chapter.


Chapter 12
THE TWO FACES OF KOJUTAKE

By Jay Squires

NEW TO “THE TRINING” ADVENTURE?  There are summaries beginning with Cha. 2, and continuing to Cha. 11.  What follows now is a summary of Cha. 12, (the first part).
          After a sometimes heated exchange over cultural differences, Doctrex and Klasco have lunch while the crossans rest, eat and drink.  The two make a very important toast to their brotherhood.  Klasco then explains the taboo usage of the word Trining as a secret code word used by the infiltrators of the Far North Province to refer to the onset of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on all the other Provinces.
          Doctrex proceeds to fill Klasco in on his history with Axtilla, with his ultimate goal to be able to describe being pulled from the plane below up to their plane by his little daughter, Sarisa.  Before Doctrex can proceed too far, however, he gets an unexpected lesson about how the people on the Kabeezan plane communicate.  It matches his earlier experiences with Axtilla and explains how everyone understands each other through a process called pappering.

Chapter Twelve
 
[THE LAST PART]
 
I continued with my narrative, studying his face for changes in expression, especially at the more incredulous parts.  This came soon enough when I described my being wedged in the opening of the cave wall, her disbelief that I could not dislodge myself, and then the ease with which she made the opening wider with a strange movement of her hands between my back and the wall of the cave.

"After I was able to slide the rest of the way through and outside the cave, and she followed me, she told me, tearfully, that she knew I was Pondria and was certain I was trying to deceive her into believing I didn't have Kunsin."

"Kunsin," he repeated.

"Yes, magical powers that Pondria was supposed to possess."

"Oh, yes, I remember.  All part of the myth.  I’d forgotten what it was called until you mentioned it."

"Myth to your people, maybe, just a story, a fiction—but to Axtilla it was very real.  And, since she had a spear she kept prodding me with, she had a way of making me feel the strength of her belief."

“Well put, Brother.”

I went on to tell him of the moment I wrestled away her spear and in a fit of masculine rage attempted to break it over my knee.  The corners of his mouth twitched as I described how it bruised the flesh above my kneecap, causing me to hop around like a howling madman.
With this he threw back his head and roared.

“Yes,” I said, “yes, like that!” I pointed at him, grinning.  That’s just how she did it, too.”

Then I described how I crouched beside the spot where she had dropped to her knees and was bent over laughing so hard she could scarcely breathe, and I joined in with her.

“Klasco, this was the first time we felt a closeness to each other—well, I probably more than she."

Those words said, I found myself staring at the carriage floor, waiting until I could speak again. Finally, I pressed the back of my hand to my nose.

I looked up to see him dangling a cloth napkin he'd taken from the basket.

“Thank you.”

“Doctrex, I can see you really …” He didn’t finish.  There was no need.

I nodded anyway, and swallowed.
 
He reached over, put his hand on my arm and gave it a small squeeze before releasing it.

Over the shoulders of the crossans, the dirt road rose as it stretched out before us and I had a kind of dreamy awareness of their lazily thumping hooves.

Where are you, Axtilla?  Has my disappearance convinced you I used my Kunsin while you were sleeping so I could vanish and join forces with my brother in the Far Northern Province?  Have you hardened your heart against me, Axtilla?

Somewhere—far back—I was becoming aware of a soft but deep sound competing with the crossan’s hooves, and it took me a moment longer to realize Klasco had been talking.

I gave my head a quick shake. "I'm sorry, Klasco."

"You were somewhere else."

"Oh, yes, I suppose I was."

"You were with her."

"Yes."

“You're okay, Brother?”

I told him I was; and, then I resumed filling him in on this history I had a deep urging not just to tell him, but have him understand, accept and embrace.

"We were on the path that began at the opening to the cave and wrapped around the mountain.  We’d begun a mission to do something or other, I don't know what, but the important thing was there was a—a togetherness that didn't exist before."  I stopped my narrative again, but feeling myself slipping back into an easier place in my private thoughts, I forced myself to go on. "We hadn't walked far when Axtilla let out a whelp and grabbed her ankle.  She had been bitten by something from a bush beside the path and, losing her balance in her pain, she tumbled down the hill, with me scrambling close behind.  The ground leveled out a spell before it continued its descent.  Happily a log lay across the small plateau and our now rolling bodies were stopped by it.  She was unconscious.  "

I noticed he was caught up in the drama of my narrative, much the way he was enrapt by my fictional account of the Pomnot encounter over the family's kitchen table.  He was watching the road, but every now and again he would give a little nod of understanding.

I continued on with how I lanced the snake bite by slicing an X across it, sucked out the poison and then how flooded with guilt I was about not knowing first aid. However, when I explained I had to interrupt caring for her while I scavenged for firewood, since it would soon be dark and it was inevitable we would be staying put for the night, Klasco give me a sidelong glance.

I held up a hand.  "You promised, Brother, you'd let me finish."

He nodded (I could see it was begrudgingly), and started watching the road ahead.

I continued on about managing to get a good fire going, and afterwards brought the tip of a branch to a red-hot coal.  “I was preparing to cauterize her injured ankle, you see, which was swelling, with the skin stretched to the breaking point.”

"Cauterize?" he interrupted, looking at me through a spreading grin—and then looked away.  "Sorry."

“So, you’ve heard of it?  Cauterizing?”

“Just now,” he said, and then smiling, added, “pappering.  The meaning wasn’t that clear, though, Brother.  Was it clear to you?”

“No, no it wasn’t.  It wasn’t clear at all.”  Then, I grinned back at him.  “I don't remember who I was before, Klasco, but I know I sure wasn't a doctor."

He laughed outright at my words.

"But, fortunately before I applied the coal to her ankle I decided to check her pulse.  You see, she was staring at me, unblinking.  To be honest with you—” I swallowed just thinking about it— “I thought she might be dead.  After I put my fingers on her neck, I almost fainted when I heard her ask me what I was doing."

Again, he laughed, almost doubling over in his seat.  "I'm sorry, Doctrex, but you do tell a good story."

"Perhaps, but it's a true story.  I'm afraid it's the next part that will stretch what you're prepared to believe to the breaking point.  I know it did me.  And, I don't know how to do it except to tell it to you as it happened to me.  Darkness is a part of it, Klasco.  And Axtilla's fear of it—well, not of darkness—but what happens during the darkness.  This was also why she wanted to get back to the cave before it got dark.  She was like a child, trembling in fright.  She kept repeating that Kojutake would soon arrive."

His head whipped toward me.  "Kojutake!"

"Yes,” I sighed. “I know. Part of your myth."

"No! Not a myth. Not a story. The afterlife, the Prevaluate!”

This I knew was significant, though I had no idea in what way. "So, when you die you go there?"

For a while. It's the Prevaluate. You know."

I shook my head, and he looked at me in the puzzled way I would look at someone who'd told me he'd never heard of heaven or hell.

"We're not of the same world, Klasco.  The sooner you accept that, the sooner—the sooner—I don't know what." 

And, I didn't.

"It's a place you go after you die," he started, "a place where you get measured by what your gifts and talents were that you had all your life compared to what you did with those gifts and talents.  And, whether you met adversity with courage or not.  That weighed most heavily. And, whether you were kind to strangers."

"Who kept score while you were alive?"

"Each one did, Brother.  You. Me. We all know."

"How about after you're dead?"

"You still know, but the lightness or heaviness actually decides.  Some never go."

I said, almost automatically: "How could that be?  They are either heavy or light."

"They are.  But, they don't know they are.  So they stay.  It's a bad, violent place and it’s good that those who know don't have to stay there long."

"The Pomnots," I said.

He smiled, but a confused smile, with his lips not fully committed to their own mirth.  "What do you mean?  The Pomnots, I already told you, are myth."  He sat there somehow threatened by my questions and my Pomnots suggestion, and smiled that strange, non-mirthful smile at me that was trying to tell me the subject had reached its limit.

I stopped short—but just for a moment.  This was too important a connection.  Unless I launched into it confidently there would be little likelihood that he would ever accept my explanation of how I got into his world.

Waiting until the disconcerting smile left his lips and he once again had his eyes fixed on the roadway beyond the backs of the crossans, I reminded him of the untidy fact that we were from different worlds.

"I don't mean our lives' experiences are different, but the physical world we live in is different."  I knew he thought I was referring to the world I claimed I inhabited with Axtilla (and, after all, he was only taking that on faith). It would have been foolhardy to try to conjure up in his imagination the world I knew I was really from.  How could I do that if I didn’t remember the part I played in that world?

The only way I was sure he was listening to me was the way his jaw knotted, released and knotted again.

"I realize you think I am mocking something that is important to you, Klasco.  I'm sorry if it seems like that, because I'm not.  I was as disbelieving of Axtilla's reality, which I thought was merely her myth, right up until I experienced its reality face to face.  So, please try to understand it from my—"

"Just get on with it," he said steadily, measuredly, and firmly, while not taking his eyes away from the road.

"The Kojutake that Axtilla was so terrified of, which I thought was nothing more than a myth she had not yet faced up to, scared the pants off me when I actually experienced it!"

He laughed at my hyperbole, though I was certain he hadn't wanted to.  "Scared your pants right off you, did it?"

I shared the laughter.  "I guess that is quite an image."  Then I continued, gingerly, "Do you think it will be too upsetting if I explain what I saw in Axtilla's Kojutake."

"I must tell you, Doctrex, Kojutake is something no one talks lightly about."

"But, that's the point, Klasco; yours and Axtilla’s Kojutake are not the same place."

"I know it's important for you to tell me about her—her place, brother, but I need some time away from it.  Over there is our lodging."  He nodded toward an imposing structure, partly eclipsed by a grove of trees I was amazed to see were not oaks.  He reined the crossans, whinnying and snorting off the roadway.
 
The wagon pulled up even with the trees and I got a good view of the inn. 

"What is it, about—I paused, doing the calculations—20 Ds old?"

"Yeah, I think you're right; it's about a hundred years old."  He smiled.

Heavy, wooden joists undergirded the sloping thatched roof and smaller, oiled beams formed the support for the windows and doors.  As we pulled closer, I marveled at the craftsmanship of the window shutters that closed to form a weather-resistant seal.  To the side of the Inn, a building half as tall, with thatched roof, shutter-less windows, and with very low, very wide doors, was secured by a metal beam crossing both.  Through the open windows I saw the backs and heads of what must have been fifty crossans.

Pulling up to the Inn's doorway, it opened to the blend of music and laughter.  A lad of about 3Ds emerged.  "Gentlemen," he said through the teeth of his constant smile, "Welcome to the Thorns and Goblets.  I am the stable boy.  I will feed, water and groom your beautiful, but tired, mares while you go in and enjoy the merriment."

"Thank you," said Klasco.  "And, how much do I pay for your services, young man."

"Oh, no," the lad grinned, "We'll settle when you come out."

"We will stay to eat and for a sleep. Shall I settle for the crossans with the Innkeeper, then?"

He came right up to our wagon and leaned toward us. "They will hide it in with the other charges and it will cost you more." He gently laid his hand on the Chestnut's flank. "A lovely lady, sir, deserving of the best care."

Klasco stifled a smile.

"Sir, for five fleckets I will take such good care of the ladies that they will beg you stay another sleep."

"Two fleckets," Klasco countered.

"Two fleckets, seven, sir?"

"Two and six.  Not a faern more."

"I like a man who bargains, sir.  Two and six it is."

Klasco withdrew a pouch from his pocket, and from it removed two coins of one size and several smaller ones and dropped them in the boy's hand.  He cinched up the pouch and returned it to his pocket.

The boy bowed.  "My name is Klynch.  Send for me if you need anything."

Klasco and I stepped down from the wagon.  The boy climbed up and took the reins.
"We'll get our rooms arranged and then go to the tavern for a tankard of ale.  I'm dry and thirsty.  How about you?"

I told him I was, but that I had no money.

"I know you don't," he said.  "But, what you are willing to do for my family and me no money can buy.  While you are with me there will be no more talk of money.  Is that understood, Brother?"

I smiled and nodded. We opened the heavy oak doors just as three burley fellows pushed past us, bumping Klasco's arm. He spun around. His jaw was set, his eyes ablaze.

I put my hand on his shoulder and told him in as peaceful a tone as I could muster, "We're outnumbered, brother, and I'm a bit outsized."

Reluctantly he nodded and turned back around. He entered first, but before I followed, I glanced back to see the three huddled together about thirty yards away, laughing. I pulled the door closed, but before it joined, with a click, to the other door, I saw the three of them through the crack, lumbering back to the Inn.
 
*     *     *
 
CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Kunsin: The magic that Pondria possessed.
  • Kojutake: In the provinces it is the afterlife.
  • Prevaluate: In the provinces, it is where you go just after you die, where you measure yourself to find out whether you will go to Kojutake
  • "D": In the Provinces, the equivalent of 5 years.
  • Fleckets and Faerns: Don't worry about it.  Just a kind of currency.
 
 

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. The previous chapter summary and the glossary comprise I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep that in mind.


Chapter 13
INTERLUDE IN THE THORNS AND GOBLETS

By Jay Squires

NEW TO “THE TRINING” ADVENTURE?  There are summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 12 (Pt. 1).  What follows is a summary of Cha. 12 (Pt. 2):

As their journey to Kabeez proceeds, both Doctrex and Klasco make the discovery that many of the concepts Axtilla had taught Doctrex on the plane below had entirely different (and often sinister) connotations in the provinces: Axtilla’s Pomnots were creatures in her people’s history from whom they evolved, while they were merely mythical creatures to the people of the provinces; Kojutake was a very real phenomena that Axtilla and her people feared after dark, but to the people of the provinces it was of the highest religious significance, not to be spoken lightly of.  The tension brought on by these volatile subjects kept Doctrex from his goal of explaining to Klasco how he ended up being dragged up onto this plane by Klasco’s own little daughter!
That would have to wait since they arrive at the night’s lodging.  As they enter the Inn, three exiting ruffians collide with Klasco, spinning him around.  Doctrex talks him down, but as they go inside, he sees the three heading back toward the inn.
 
Chapter Thirteen
 
I was of two minds whether I should tell Klasco about the three—at least tell him right now. I saw a side of him I'd not seen before, a violent, insuppressible and irrational side. Not a good combination in battle or when outnumbered in a tavern brawl. On the other hand, I didn't want to have him blindsided.

After what seemed interminable wandering through the labyrinth of hallways, we found the Innkeeper's station and secured our room. Then, on the way to the tavern I took a calming breath and told Klasco as conversationally as I could that we might have not seen the last of the three ruffians.

He kept his eyes averted from me. "I should not have let my passions overthrow my reason. I'm fortunate you were there to be a source of sound judgment and to keep me in check."

"But, will you be able to continue on keeping your passions under control if they confront us again in a similar way? Some people are just rude by nature and unrefined. I'll be the first to agree with you that their behavior was worthy of being—uh, corrected. But this is not our time to do it. We have an important mission after our sleep, and I know you agree that we can't sacrifice that mission for a brawl."

"You're right, Brother. Yours is the voice of reason. With your help we'll enjoy an uneventful tankard of ale—I can almost taste it on my lips—have a pleasant meal and then a restful sleep before we resume our journey to Kabeez."

We continued on in good spirits, tracing our earlier steps up and down the halls, following the growing sounds of laughter and voices lifted in not-too-melodious song until we came upon its source and pulled open the door.

The people in the room turned to look at us. We found a vacant table and sat down. I let my eyes roam. Of the twenty or so occupants I counted, only two were females. They wore soiled white aprons with large pockets in the front, so I figured they were tavern maids. That was confirmed when the younger, plumper of the two, caught sight of us and wove around the tables to get to ours.

"What'll you have, gentlemen?"

"I'll have a tankard of ale," Klasco said and waited for me to acknowledge, which I did with a nod, "and one for my friend."

She turned to leave when Klasco added: "And, where can we eat?"

She told us she'd return with the menus and our ale, and we could have our meal at our table. I watched her leave and then continued to look around the room. Four men, occupying the table nearest us, were intent on a rather noisy game of cards. One would toss a card to the center of the table, and then rap his knuckles on the surface in front of him. The one across from him rapped on the table, but didn't throw a card. Another muttered and swore and then everyone tossed their cards to the center. The two rappers were happier with their playing and began to laugh. One of the other two, a man with orange hair and bushy orange eyebrows, got up and left the room.

Four tables were occupied by lone drinkers. Three were actually drinking. One was passed out with his face pressed against the table top.

Beyond some empty tables, in a far, shadowed corner, two of the three men we had almost had a falling out with earlier sat with their ale, and one cradling a bowl, a substance from which he noisily ladled; not all found its target, splashing instead on the table.

The music we heard earlier had stopped when we entered the tavern and was just now on the verge of resuming. It would be performed by two young men, one playing a mandolin, and one a violin-type instrument; a man, slightly older than the other two, I recognized as the probable lead singer in the group. He smiled coquettishly, very intent on gathering every patron’s eye, ours included, before he began. He did that now by tapping out the tempo with his foot on the tavern floor, scanning his audience. The mandolin started and soon the violin made its entrance. The singer strolled between the two, smiling at the one and bobbing with the rhythm of the other, snapping his fingers. He was determined to build some sort of momentum, to raise it to a crescendo until the audience would be ready to burst if the singing didn't begin.

No one was bursting.

With a disappointment, that I believe I was the only one interested enough to detect, he began his song.

To my surprise, Klasco began humming the singer's words. I glanced at him out of the corners of my eyes and saw that he was nodding his head with the music. His eyes were closed. I wasn't prepared to hear him raise his voice and sing the words, almost trancelike:
 
I lift my eyes from the pink flowered meadows
From the rich brown soil the shoots push through
To the wisps of clouds nudged by fruited breeze
That carries my spirit home
To my beloved Kabeez.
 
He stood up and sang now with even more animation. The Tavern maid brought our ale and the two menus and I noticed she gave Klasco a troubled look. To me she whispered: "You might want to warn your friend that's not a popular song with everybody. Those that don't like it, hate it. And they won't take a high likin' to him singin' it."

I thanked her, and when she left my eyes skimmed past the table in the shadows. The third thug had joined the other two and all three were watching Klasco.
 
My Kabeez, my Kabeez
Our Province's soul
 
And with the last line of the song, I saw a glint and a blur and before I could focus on it I heard a clangor near the band. The music stopped. Klasco opened his eyes, emerging from his patriotic reverie and looked briefly confused. The tankard probably originated from the table where the four card players sat. The one with the orange hair got up with such fury that his chair fell back and clattered against the floor. He strode over to our table and stood glaring at Klasco. He was broad in the chest and shoulders, perhaps 5 years younger, but Klasco stood a few inches taller, and I had a hunch would be faster.

"Klevin is the name, sir, and I want to be the one to shove Beloved Kabeez back down your throat!"

Klasco looked at me and then smiled back at the man called Klevin. "I didn't know my singing would cause such pain."

"If I let the song finish, you'd be weeping like a woman by now." His card-playing friends chittered with laughter. "And, no one should weep over a Province Council who sends its children to battle for its pink flowered meadows and brown soil."

Did this Klevin recognize Klasco as one of the Council of Twelve? Or was "Council" used like "capital or "County Seat?" I put my hand on Klasco's shoulder. He turned to look at me, but while his attention was averted, Klevin grabbed the tankard on our table and just as Klasco was turning back, he flung its contents in his face. Klasco sputtered, the ale dripping from his face and his shirt-front plastered to him. The other three card players scrambled to their feet. I did the same, but my heart was pounding shamefully in my chest.

Klasco smiled weakly. Before the three could band with Klevin, Klasco's arms shot out and locked onto the front of his aggressor's shirt (and probably some of the flesh beneath it, the way he yelped in pain). In one fluid movement, he hoisted Klevin from the floor and onto the table, his knees banging onto it first, then his belly. From there Klasco grabbed the back of his collar with one hand, the seat of his pants with the other, and scraped him across the rest of the surface, dragging menus with him and overturning the other tankard. Kleven landed face-first on the floor with the rest of his body collapsing in a heap.

One of his buddies rounded my side of the table, so intent on getting to Klasco that he didn't see my fist which came from my side in a round-house, catching him on the hinge of his jaw just below the ear. It was a sucker punch, I knew, but it was delivered as cleanly as the one I landed on Axtilla's jaw that sent her eyes into pinball mode. His legs simply collapsed where they were and his body's momentum carried his torso forward to his belly, so he didn't look unlike Klevin.

The third and the fourth card player, as though by some unspoken agreement took a few steps back. I was feeling a little heady with power when I saw two others stomping toward us, their eyes afire with anger. One wielded a club, which resembled one of the chair legs and the other held a dagger at his side. To make matters worse, the three thugs came out of their shadowed corner, two of them with empty tankards, and were making their way toward us as well. The card players' confidence was renewed and they advanced. A quick tally came up with seven men all intent on making short work of us.

"Klasco?" was all I had time to say.

"Brother …" was his only response.
 
*     *     *

CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Kunsin: The magic that Pondria possessed.
  • Kojutake: In the provinces it is the afterlife.
  • Prevaluate: In the provinces, it is where you go just after you die, where you measure yourself to find out whether you will go to Kojutake
 
 
 

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 14
JUST A LITTLE TASTE OF WAR

By Jay Squires

NEW TO “THE TRINING” ADVENTURE?  There are summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 12 (Pt. 2).  What follows is a summary of Cha. 13
Thirsty for a tankard of ale, Doctrex and Klasco enter the Tavern.  Doctrex surveys the place, seeing card players, drinkers, and the three ruffians they had encountered earlier.  The band begins to play a song and, to Doctrex’s amazement Klasco starts humming and before long stands and sings loudly.  The song is My Kabeez, very patriotic, one the tavern maid whispers to Doctrex that many people hate passionately.  Sure enough, one of the card players stalks over to Klasco, threatening him.  Klasco pulls him across the table and subdues him.  Meanwhile one of his buddies rounds the table and Doctrex cold cocks him with a sucker punch.  Now, though, he counts seven more coming toward them, one with a club and another with a knife.  Included are the three toughs from earlier.
 
  Chapter Fourteen
 
 Klasco tipped the table on its side, erecting a barricade that would take our attackers about three seconds to go around.

The one with the club tried the direct approach, throwing his weight into it while he brought his club-wielding arm over the top.  The blow ricocheted harmlessly off the meaty part of Klasco's shoulder.  The man's momentum carried him forward, allowing Klasco to ram his fist into the exposed armpit.
 
I didn't see what happened after that since I was about to have my hands full.

The one with the knife chose me as his target.  Coming from another angle, the thug, who apparently wanted me more, was about a pace or two ahead of the other.  I balled my fist, immediately figuring my only strategy was to lambast the first to arrive, when the ruffian suddenly stopped, spun around and in just that instant stationed himself in front of me, blocking my view of the knife wielder as well as much of the light from that part of the room.  I heard a "huff" as of air leaving the lungs followed by a delay where nothing seemed to happen, and then he slumped to his knees and fell forward.

The man stood staring at his knife, his face twisted in disbelief, but only for a moment before the other thug rammed his shoulder into the man's side, carrying him ten feet across the room where both crashed to the floor, the thug on top.  He pounded his fist into the other's face again and again.

Meanwhile, the card players had completely withdrawn.  In the confusion, I had lost sight of the other one of the three troublemakers, but now saw he was helping Klasco with the club bearer who had not been so ready to surrender as the orange-haired Klevin.

I turned my attention to the one who had been stabbed and gently rolled him to his back.  He was breathing, grimacing in pain.  I ripped open his shirt.  He was bleeding heavily, but I traced it to its source.  The knife had penetrated his pectoral muscle, just above and to the outside of his nipple.  My guess was, from the angle it went in, that it glanced off the breastbone and lodged itself in the flesh alongside his ribcage.  I examined his side.  Sure enough, there was an exit point, a slit of about a half inch, oozing blood.

I looked up to see the tavern maid standing beside us, a tablecloth trailing down from her hands.  Her eyes were closed and her body jerking with a quiet sobbing.

"He'll be okay," I told her.  "Is there a doctor staying at the Inn?"

She shook her head.  With difficulty she told me she didn't think there was, but said she would check with the innkeeper.

"While you're doing that, have someone boil some water and tear one of these into four or six smaller pieces.  Leave this one with me.  Is it clean?"

She nodded and gave it to me.  Then I remembered.  "And I'll need some alcohol. 

She gave me a quizzical smile.

"Alcohol.  Some distilled spirits?"

"Ah, spirits.  Yes.

She left.  I put the tablecloth to my nose and sniffed it.  It smelled clean.  I pressed it to the wound.  He moaned.

The thug who had been slamming his fist into the one beneath him was now standing, looking down at him and rubbing his hand.  The other's face was bloodied and one eye was already swollen shut, but his stomach was rising and falling.

"Your friend's going to be okay," I hollered to him, afraid he might once again start working over his victim.

He turned vacant eyes to me.  Then he shook his head.  "Sheleck!" he cried out, and lumbered toward us.  "He hurt you."  His eyes pleaded with me.  "He's gon' be all right."

"Yes.  I'm sure," I told him.  I folded the cloth to a dry spot and again pressed it to the wound on his chest.  "The bleeding's slowing."  Then I remembered something else.  "Can you see if you can find some blankets or coats?  Something we can cover him with?"

"You a doctor?" he asked.

"No, but if he's in shock he should be kept warm."

"I'll go.  I'll get a blanket."  He looked around.  "Where's his brother?"

Klasco and the third miscreant who I assumed, now, was Sheleck's brother, had finished binding the hands of the two fallen combatants with what looked like strips of a tablecloth and turned toward me.  From the look on his face, this was his first discovery that his brother had fallen.  In his haste to get to us he collided with a chair and flung it, clattering to the side.  "Sheleck!"

"He'll be all right, Giln," the other said.  "Doctor, said he's all right.  I need to get some blankets, right, doctor?"

"I'm not a doctor," I explained again.  "But, please get that blanket."

"Zurn," the brother said, "Go get the blanket."  His voice was deep, a bit raspy.

"Yes, I need to get a blanket.  Or coats, right, doctor?"

"One or the other," I said, pressing another fresh part of the table cloth to the wound.

"Don't forget what you're going for, Zurn." Giln warned.

"I won't.  I'll get a blanket, or ... or a coat."  He left.

"He's a little dim," Giln said, under his breath.
 
Klasco looked at me with concern.  "Are you okay, Brother?"

"A little shaken." I gave a tilt of my head to Sheleck. "He took the knife for me, you know."

Giln shook his head.  "Not for you, friend.  He didn't know he was going to be stabbed."  He got down on his knees and bent over his brother, kissing him on the forehead.  Then he laid his cheek gently where his lips had been.  "He didn't know."

"But, he did it just the same.  And he did it while standing in front of me."

"He's not a hero.  He thought he could take him.  He'd tell you that himself."

I had a hunch it was time to retire the speculation.

"He's tough, though.  He'll be okay."

I agreed with him.  "The tip didn't get through the rib cage -- went off to the side."

"Yeah, Sheleck's a tough one."   In the silence that followed, though, I knew he was worried.

"You know," I said, "I couldn't help but think the three of you were joining forces with the others against us."

Klasco laughed. "After all, we didn't have a very cordial introduction at the door, as you were leaving and we were coming in."

"Ah, that," Giln said.  "We just enlisted and I guess we were feeling the need for a little action before the real thing."  He was silent a moment and a little reflective.  "I'll take that introduction now if you've a mind to.  He thrust out a hand that matched Klasco's in size. Klasco took it in his and introduced himself.  Giln turned to me.  "Don't bother, you've got your hands full.  My name's Giln Profue."

I introduced myself.

"And your surname?"

"Just Doctrex."

He looked suspiciously at me and then at Klasco.  "Just Doctrex?"

"That's it."

"Hmmm.  You know we'll never convince Zurn now that you're not a doctor."

We had a good laugh over that and then Klasco asked: "So, what made you decide to come to our aid after all?"

"You beat us to the punch.  Who do you think convinced the band to play My Kabeez?  It's not exactly what you'd call Tavern music, now is it?"

"Now that you mention it," Klasco chuckled.

"The three of us planned to sing it at first, but we had a fit of laughter, and by the time we got ourselves together we heard you singing it.  Loudly … and with love."  He sniffed. "We also love our Kabeez.  We had no idea there would be a knife or a club involved, but before they went after you, our plan had been to draw them to us by our singing. Then, since you were outnumbered, and we were the ones who started the whole thing ... and we were looking for action anyway, it was a natural."

"You said you enlisted," Klasco said.

"Yes, my brother and I don't have families -- no wives."  He cast a glance at Sheleck again, then back to Klasco.  "We have no one who depends on us and we would rather fight the Far Northern Province on their soil than on ours.  We planned it for over a quardo' D, building strength in our bodies, wrestling, fist fighting.  It was difficult because, over time, we had lost our fitness, and with it our confidence.  Gradually we got it all back and more."

"And Zurn?"

"Zurn is like our brother.  To us he is our brother.  He has no mother or father.  The people in our township liked him the way you would a dog or cat.  He wasn't lacking for food or the other necessities.  But they just didn't respect him.  And, a man's got to have respect.  He got that from my brother."

Klasco nodded, reflectively.

“Sheleck befriended him and, with my parents blessing, we ended up inviting him to live with us.  When we trained for the enlistment, he trained right along with us."

Klasco drew in his brows.  "How did you get him enlisted?"

"You mean …  No … well, we—he didn't get enlisted.  The Council representative argued that he didn't have the mind to follow instructions and others could die because of his lacking in sense."

I looked over at Klasco.  He said, "And, do you think they are wrong?"

Giln cleared his throat.  "Now's probably not the best time to answer that.  Where is Zurn?"

I noticed he was a little red-faced.

"Well …" said Klasco.  Their decision must have been difficult.  I hear they've been having trouble getting volunteers and have had to resort to conscripting boys as young as three D.  Perhaps they weren't aware of yours and Sheleck's closeness to him—that the three of you would be together, looking out for each other."

"We put our best argument forward, but the council representative—"

"Describe him."

Giln looked momentarily confused.  "Tall man, sun-reddened—"

"No hair."

"You know him?" Giln asked.

"Yes, he screens complaints and requests to find what is worthwhile for the Council to discuss.  Sometimes he is, um, shortsighted."  He rubbed his jaw.  It produced a sandpapery sound.  "Zurn must recognize his role as warrior.  I'm guessing he doesnt have any leadership ambitions?  He can take simple orders without being on the planning end of things, right?"

As though right on cue, the door opened, and Zurn entered with a blanket thrown over his shoulder.  A man was with him, carrying a bag.  "Another doctor," Zurn said.  "I had to wait for him to dress.  They woke him on account of Sheleck."

"Oh, there he is," said the doctor, a short, older man with a prominent belly.  He addressed me, sticking out his hand.  "Doctor Murger," he said.  "The young man told me you were here but lacked medical supplies."

"Yes, well, I'm afraid he might have misled you.  I'm not a doctor.  I'm only guessing about what to do."

"I see," the doctor said, moving in close and getting onto one knee with some difficulty.  I gave up control of the tablecloth and he lifted it from the wound.  "Ah, it appears just a flesh wound.  No coughing of blood, correct?  No issue from the mouth?"  He didn't wait for an answer.  Looking, as I had, at the rib cage just below the armpit, he announced, "Yes, the exit."  Turning to Zurn, he said, "We need the blankets, son."

"Yes, I brought the blankets, see Giln?  I remembered."  He held them out to the doctor who spread them over Sheleck's body; then he stepped back, watching the doctor with an expression of wonder.

"You did an admirable job, son," the doctor told me.  "Just an even direct pressure on the wound.  And the miss—the tavern maid said you had them boil some water, cut some cloths and get a bottle of spirits.  Very good.  We'll need to clean and bandage the wound.  I have something to prevent infection."  He reached into his bag.

"I'll see what's keeping the water, cloths and spirits" I told him.

"The water and cloths," he said.  Then he winked at me.  "The spirits we'll finish later.

Klasco and Giln laughed.  Zurn watched them, with a slight tilt of his head.  I knew he wanted to join in.

It saddened me a little.
 
*     *     *
 
CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
  • Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
  • Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Kunsin: The magic that Pondria possessed.
  • Kojutake: In the provinces it is the afterlife.
  • Prevaluate: In the provinces, it is where you go just after you die, where you measure yourself to find out whether you will go to Kojutake
 
 

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 15
KLASCO VISITS DISNEYLAND

By Jay Squires

 NEW TO “THE TRINING” ADVENTURE?  There are summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 13   What follows is a summary of Cha. 14:
A short but passionate fight ensues with the three they had encountered outside the tavern, siding with Doctrex and Klasco. During the battle one of the three is stabbed trying to protect Doctrex.  His buddy tackles the knife wielder, knocking him unconscious.  While Doctrex cares for the wounded man, (discovering his wound was superficial), he sends Zurn (the one who’d subdued the stabber), for blankets and to try to find a doctor.  Convinced that the wounded man (Sheleck) was going to be alright, his brother (Giln), who had been helping Klasco, explains the three were just having some fun before enlisting and that they had cooked up having the band play My Kabeez hoping to bring the fighting to them.  In the course of their conversation, Giln explains how his brother and he enlisted but Zurn was rejected because of his deficient intelligence.  Zurn arrives with the Doctor and the blankets.

Chapter Fifteen
Part 1
 
 
We said our goodbyes to Giln and Zurn, promising we would meet up with them on our return.  Sheleck was in Doctor Murger's room so an eye could be kept on him.  The doctor told Giln -- and Giln told us -- that Sheleck was now conscious and grumbling that he needed to be with his Brother and Zurn.  But the doctor stood his ground.  He said Sheleck didn't know how lucky he was that it was just a flesh wound, but his biggest danger now was infection:  "Lose a limb," the doctor said, "or lose a life.  Infection doesn't care which."

"So you will talk to the Council?" Giln asked in a low voice, glancing over to make sure Zurn wasn't listening.

"Yes," said Klasco.

They watched us, in silence, load the wagon and hitch the Gray and Chestnut to their respective places and then climb up to our seats.

"You think they will listen to you?"

"Yes, I think they will."

Zurn lifted a hand to the Chestnut's mane.  "It's soft," he said over his shoulder to whomever was listening.

Giln glanced over.  "Don't let him bite you."  Then to Klasco: "And, you'll be able to petition them to let your brother enlist in your place?  Seems that would be hard enough by itself."

"Not in my place.  I'm exempt.  I would be leaving a wife and two female children, one who's ill.  I need to petition them to let him enlist because he isn't from our province."  He smiled at me and I nodded, as to give his words credence.  "If he weren't my brother it would be out of the question."

Giln looked confused.

"I shouldn't say more. Glnot Rhuether's men or his sympathizers are everywhere."

"Ah … I see."

An awkward silence spread among us, suggesting the conversation had gone as far as it could, but with the unexpressed affinity that had formed in our encounter, there existed a void that somehow needed filling.

"Well," Klasco said, "If we want to get to Kabeez before the Council adjourns we must be going." 

We shook hands all around, Giln and Zurn stepped away from the wagon, and Klasco shook the reins.  The muscles on the crossans' hips bunched as they pulled against the weight of the wagon.  The large wheels made a quarter turn, crunching gravel, then another and another as the crossans lumbered forward.

Klasco's parting words to Giln were, "Be faithful.  We'll return with what you need."  And, before we were out of hearing, repeated, "Be faithful."
 
*     *     *
 
We rode for what, to me, was about a mile with each of us in his own thoughts before Klasco interrupted mine with a question that took me right back to the conversation we had been in earlier.

"Brother, are you going to tell me about your beloved's Kojutake and your encounter with it?"

I smiled.  "My mind will wander less if we call her Axtilla."

"Yes, if memory serves, you had just had your pants scared off you."

I chuckled at his attempt to get me flustered.  I figured it was his way of defusing what to him might otherwise be a volatile and forbidden subject.  "Klasco, Axtilla's Kojutake was very real—I mean very real—while at the same time being an illusion.  I wonder, Brother, whether this is anything within your frame of reference that you can even grasp.  Let's not even call it by the name that is so emotionally charged to you.  Let's call it, oh … Disneyland."

"Disneyland?"  He looked blankly at me.

"An amusement park where I came from," I said, knowing that would also not likely register.

He shrugged.

"What's strange to me is that I even know about Disneyland.  I have no memory of ever being there.  I—"

"So, this Disneyland was so real you could reach right out and touch it, but when you tried it was not real at all."

"Exactly!"  He was talking about Kojutake!  I was astounded that he grasped it so readily.  But, I needed to take him a little deeper.  "The Disneyland from my—my province was very large.  Imagine entering it through a gate and everything you left was as real as your crossans and the road and the fields we see, but once inside you find the rodents that might spook your crossans are now human-sized and walk on two legs and speak your language.  The boy rodent's name is Mickey Mouse, The girl rodent's Minnie Mouse.  There are bears that are twice the size of bears, a tiger named Tigger that walks on his hind legs.  Oh, Brother, there is so much more I could tell you about this Disneyland, so much more than the creatures.  But this is enough to explain about Axtilla's … Disneyland."  Then, I thought further about it.  "No, that's not true.  I have to say something more about it.  Children love these creatures.  Children the age of Sarisa go right up and hug them.  They do it because in some part of their minds they know the Creature is an illusion.  A real tiger would hurt them, but Tigger wouldn't."

"Right, Doctrex," he said to the road.  "Tell me about the Disneyland that you and Axtilla went into."

"Okay," I said.  "But it was more like standing outside the gates and looking through at all the wonders of Disneyland, inside.  Yes," I said, pleased with the way I put it, "that's kind of what it was.  We were leaning against the log; Axtilla was remarkably healed from her snake bite, but horrified about what she kept insisting would be our encounter with … with Disneyland.  It was starting to get dark and the thunder and lightning intensifying—you do know what thunder and lightning is, don't you?"

"I've never seen it, but people who have been to the Far Northern Province talk about flashes of light that turn the darkness into just what it is now.  And they say there was a horrible rumbling sound that came with the flash that was not like anything they'd ever heard before."

"You have an idea, then, about what we were experiencing.  Then, just as it was getting dark, something I would describe as a gigantic sheet spread out across the sky above our heads.  It was more than a sheet, though; it was more of a membrane, so incredibly thin you could see through it; and with regenerative powers—so that it could heal its own tears, punctures and wounds as they occurred.  Axtilla called it skin and that probably more accurately described the organic intelligence that seemed to infuse it."

I went on to tell him about the pomnots drifting in and out of a sulfurous fog as they devoured a fallen animal's heart, how it was entirely in pantomime and how the blood dripped through the membrane but before it could hit the ground the membrane had closed the puncture.  The only thing separating our plane from the plane of Disneyland was that thin membrane.

"According to Axtilla," I told him, "the Pomnots could see us as easily as we could see them.  And, while seeing them savagely attacking the heart and then each other froze my blood, she assured me they could not penetrate the membrane.  I found that hard to wrap my mind around, and so I prepared a test for the theory."

I described the antics I used to try to entice one of the Pomnots to attack me through the membrane, and how I was completely blindsided by the membrane being stretched to nearly the point of rupturing by the angry Pomnot, bent on retribution for my taunting.  Klasco’s eyes were huge and unblinking when I described the Pomnot-attached membrane bumping me just before it flung the creature back into the yellow fog.  His wide eyes peered over the palm that didn’t quite cover his spreading grin, and when I shared Axtilla's reaction to the stunned look on my face, I feared Klasco was going to tumble off his seat, so taken over was he by laughter.

"I'll swear, Doctrex you have—you have the gift of storytelling," he said once he was recovered.

"But, you think I'm just trying to entertain you as I did your family."

He appeared to consider it a moment before he asked: "If I told you that story what would you think?"

I started to take the direct approach and tell him I had been just entertaining his family then, but this time it was the truth.  But, the truth was even more farfetched than the fiction.  "I—I'd probably compliment you on your storytelling abilities," I admitted, "but, if you persisted in your need to convince me of the truth of it, and you had been truthful with me about every other thing, I think I would try very hard to suspend judgment."  I took a deep breath.  "Especially, Brother, if you told me that the whole structure of everything worthwhile I believed about you would collapse if I couldn't accept an even more difficult truth, then, yes, I think I would try very, very hard to believe."
*     *     *
CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
  • Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
  • Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Kunsin: The magic that Pondria possessed.
  • Kojutake: In the provinces it is the afterlife.
  • Prevaluate: In the provinces, it is where you go just after you die, where you measure yourself to find out whether you will go to Kojutake
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 15
DISILLUSIONMENT

By Jay Squires

Chapter Fifteen
Part 2
AT THE END OF PART 1:

I started to take the direct approach and tell him I had been just entertaining his family then, but this time it was the truth.  But, the truth was even more farfetched than the fiction.  "I—I'd probably compliment you on your storytelling abilities," I admitted, "but, if you persisted in your need to convince me of the truth of it, and you had been truthful with me about every other thing, I think I would try very hard to suspend judgment."  I took a deep breath.  "Especially, Brother, if you told me that the whole structure of everything worthwhile I believed about you would collapse if I couldn't accept an even more difficult truth, then, yes, I think I would try very, very hard to believe."
 
*     *     *
 
 "I think I told you before, Doctrex," he said, locking his eyes on mine, "I do not use the word Brother lightly.  From the moment we shook hands I felt a kinship with you—enough so, you'll recall, I asked you with complete confidence to watch over my family while I went off to fight in the Far Northern Province.  I won't say your story about you and Axtilla and—and, let's call it what it is—Kojutake aren't pushing my beliefs about as far as they're prepared to go…"  He paused and smiled.  "like the membrane and the flying Pomnot, but you are my Brother."

"Yes, Klasco, but—"

"You are my Brother.  And, just as I would for the rest of my family, I would lay my life down for you.  And as my Brother, if you feel the same, you would lay down your life for me!

"I would, Klasco.  We were proving that in the tavern.  Yet, you must be reminded, it is a Brotherhood based on lies!  I've already told you I was a fraud.  I wasn't an adventurer, at least not on your plane.  I —"

"Then tell me, man, where are you from?  You've been taking two steps toward answering it, and then three steps back from it."

"Just a short while before I met you, I was with Axtilla.  There had been a lull in the Kojutake activity and she had gotten very drowsy—so suddenly I knew it was trancelike.  I held her head cradled against my chest until she fell asleep.  I laid her on her side by the log.  You see, there was a voice I kept hearing, periodically, behind me.  It was pleading for help.  'Help me,' it said, in a very thin child's voice.  I squinted my eyes, peering down the hill, but not seeing her.  I heard it again, 'Please, sir, help me,' she said and I followed her voice.  She was hanging from her knees from what appeared to be a rupture in the membrane.  The sulfurous yellow fog was behind her, and I assumed the Pomnots were, too."

Klasco eyed me suspiciously.

I took a deep breath and rubbed the back of my hand across my lips.  "I knew I would not forgive myself if I didn't try to save the little girl.  Since she was hanging about—oh, what!—about fifteen paces out where the hill descended, so I had to plan my leap very carefully.  I would have only one chance.  I explained my plan to her and told her if I approached anywhere close to her, she was to reach out and grab whatever she could of my body."

I kept my eyes away from him, but I could hear his breathing, heavy, labored.

"I'll spare you the details of my leap except to say I started a good deal up the hill and raced down to the log that Axtilla was sleeping beside.  I launched off it and flew out over the descending hill toward her.  It was all pretty much a blur, but I knew I had a chance.  I didn't anticipate my height.  I thought I would reach her shoulder level, but instead I wrapped my arms around her thighs, just above her knees.  They remained anchored firmly to their source.  Under normal circumstances, they should have snapped like dry twigs, but there was nothing normal about the circumstances—or this little girl.  Instead, my momentum slowed slightly as her spindly legs swung out with me and I could feel her little hands clamping like vises onto each of my calves.  At that point there was no momentum.  I thought we were going to swing back together in the other direction, and then, without a sound, without an effort I felt myself being pulled up through and into what I thought would be the plane of Kojutake.  I don't know whether my eyes were closed against the horror of being torn to shreds by the Pomnots."

"Please …" I heard him say, but still I didn't look at him.

"When I opened my eyes I was looking down at your beautiful little Sarisa.  As much as I needed to ask her, my attention was drawn away to the green meadows, the groves of trees and the blazing sun.  It was unlike the plane I had been on, and certainly unlike Kojutake which we somehow slipped right past.  Then I looked back at the one whose intervention brought about the miracle.  I stared and all I could think to ask her was, 'Why?'  And, she told me in her charming little voice, 'You are sad.  We can play.'"

"How could you do this to me, Doctrex?" he said, his voice raspy.  I looked over at him.  With glassy eyes he added in a voice that broke: "Oh, Doctrex, I was prepared to—to accept anything you told me as a reasonable explanation as to how you got here.  You could have convinced me you had hand-to-hand battle with the Pomnot and he threw you all the way from Kojutake to here.  Or the mythical god Kyre, himself—I don't know—called you here—I could be made to believe that!  I'm that stupid, I guess, Doctrex.  You have the power to make me believe that Kyre called you here to destroy Glnot Rhuether."

I tried to say something, but he jabbed his forefinger so close to my face I had to pull back.
"No," he shouted, his lips trembling, "You won't interrupt.  I won't have you weave another story and win me with your words.  You've gone too far this time, Doctrex.  How could you do this to me?  How could you use my Sarisa as a cheap character in your lie?"

"You're asking me all these questions," I managed to squeeze in, "and won't—"

"Shut your mouth!  Fraud!  Traitor!  So Klea was right.  She knew in her heart that you were a fraud and she knew you were out to hurt us.  She just didn't know how.  But she was prepared to expose you before you had a chance.  You have betrayed us all, Doctrex.  To think I was very nearly begging you to look after my family while I was off to war.  To think I called you Brother!"

I felt physically ill.  "May I?" I asked in a voice that shocked me with its timidity.

He didn't answer.
 
"I would never hurt you, Klasco, and I would never hurt your family.  Someday the truth of this will come out.  I don't know when and I don't know how."

He sniffed and I could see his jaw muscles bouncing, but I went on.

“At first you won't want to accept it because it has magic in it that is unbelievable to you—would be unbelievable to any person—was unbelievable to me!  The difference is it happened to me.  The difference is that everything that has happened to me since I woke up on the shore with no identity has been unbelievable, has had magic in it.  This was just one more thing."  I paused and was surprised that he didn't jump in with more invective.

"I want to tell you just one more thing, and, if you will let me finish it I will get off the wagon and you'll never see me again.  Fair enough?  I will go on to the Far Northern Provinces because I need to find Glnot Rhuether before Axtilla does, but you won't have to pretend you're my Brother.  Will you let me finish?"

He didn't say anything.  He seemed emotionally depleted.

"When you do discover the truth of this it will probably come from the mouth of your Sarisa … Now please, let me finish.  When she tells you what she did and you are tempted to disbelieve her, remember she is an innocent child.  She gains nothing by lying.  Listen to her.  Have her take you to the place where—please, Klasco—I don't know what you'll find.  I just know she was going to take me back to that place after we played.  I was going to try to go through the opening myself so I could return to Axtilla.  But then Metra came looking for her.  The three of us went to your cottage, and you know the rest.  Be gentle with Sarisa when she tells you.  She'll probably be frightened because she knew she was disobeying you and Metra when she breached the opening.

“So if you'll pull over to the side of the road I'll get out.  Oh, and one last thing, Klasco, above all be gentle with yourself and know that if it were reversed I would be doing what you are, with probably less forbearance.  Now, you may pull over."

He did nothing to slow the crossans.  He stared impassively out over the fields to the right.
"And, I would ask that you point me toward the Northern Province."

He took a deep breath.  "It would be a waste of useful manpower," he said out of a vast, impervious silence.  "You have no provisions.  Alone you would perish.  Yet Kabeez needs you.  She has an army of weaklings and malcontents who will bolt at the first sign of resistance. The army needs leadership.  They need someone with a burning desire to confront Glnot Rhuether—and someone with the persuasive skills to transform the army of Kabeez into men with that same desire.

"You're not talking about me!"

"You don't love Kabeez, but you hate Glnot Rhuether more."

"I don't even know him!  I only know that he is a danger to Axtilla and she has the burning desire to confront him.  I must get to him first.

"To the Council, Doctrex, you must be a person with a passion to lead an army to destroy Glnot Rhuether and his men.  As my Brother, you came to me from the Far Southern Provinces because you heard there was a Kabeezan army and you would go to any end to enlist in it.  That is your lie.  I'm sure you can fill it with the necessary emotion."  He was again silent, still watching the fields to the right.

"Klasco..." I started.

He didn't wait for me to finish.  "This mission is far more important than our individual differences," he said.  "I shall also have to puff up the lie.  But, make no doubt about it, with the support of the Council and the army you will have your confrontation.  Without either there is no hope at all."

We fell into mutual silence.  Then, he pointed to a place where the road bent around the base of a hill.  "Just past there is the city of Kabeez."
 
*     *     *

CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
  • Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
  • Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Kunsin: The magic that Pondria possessed.
  • Kojutake: In the provinces it is the afterlife.
  • Prevaluate: In the provinces, it is where you go just after you die, where you measure yourself to find out whether you will go to Kojutake
  •  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 16
COUNCIL ORATORY

By Jay Squires


Chapter Sixteen
Part 2
 
 
THE ENDING OF PART 1: The council joined Gylo in laughing at my admission of human weakness.  When their laughter ended, their smiles and their eyes remained fixed on mine.  Klasco, too, was smiling but in a rather confounded way.  I was sure he wondered where in the world I was going with all this.  I wasn't sure myself—yet.  There was an isolated, dispassionate part of myself that was taking everything in.  I was waiting for an urging from it.  I could feel it coming on now.

 
*     *     *
 
"My real purpose, one would guess, was dawdling in the back of my mind while my brother and his family were doting on me."

I knew this would draw the Council out.

"Would you mind, Doctrex, bringing that dawdling purpose out in the open for us?" Gylo smiled.

"Oh, gentlemen, you don't know how much I want to tell you!  I know you’re busy.  I'm honored that you even invited me into your chambers today.  So, yes, I'm sorely tempted to lay it out in one simple sentence, and be done with it."  I paused to gauge their interest.  "But, gentlemen, if I did that without introducing you to just a little background, you would wonder that I bothered to tell you at all.  Rather, you would ask yourselves why I didn't just scrawl it on a sheet of paper and send it to you by way of a messenger."

"I understand exactly what the young man is saying," a stout, florid man exclaimed, breathing heavily, as though it were his last.

"Yes, we tend to hurry through everything, don't we?" Gylo agreed.  "We rush headlong to make our point, without realizing that our point could be made more cogently if we relaxed a little in framing it.  Please, Doctrex, take your time.  We are far less busy than you think."

"Thank you."  I glanced over to the water pitcher on a tray with three glasses around it.  "I'm wondering if I might help myself to a glass of water."

"How inhospitable of us!" Gylo said, blushing to the roots of his silver hair.

"Not at all," I assured him, but before I could reach for the pitcher another had snatched it off the tray, filling a goblet and nudging it across the table to me.  I thanked him and took a slow drink.  Then, holding the glass away from my face, I studied it.

"Gentlemen," I started, and set the goblet on the table, "the citizens of the Far South are represented, as are yours, by a council.  The council is appointed for life."  I watched the heads turn to Gylo.  He blinked but didn't say anything.  "I'm not being political.  I'm not judging.  I'm just making an observation.  Appointment for life can be excellent if the power is not centralist—that is if the council hasn't lost contact with its constituents."

I took a sip from the Goblet and put it back on the table, waiting for the words.  "Unfortunately that was not the case with the Council of the Far South.  There had been a mechanism in place that was designed to provide the Council with valuable feedback as to the spoken and unspoken needs of the constituents.  The various lesser bodies of service directly interacting with the citizenry—as my own did—were urged, in theory, to address concerns to the Council.  I say in theory because in actual practice doors of access were closed."

"Really!  That's interesting," Gylo said, thoughtfully.

"Now, as Chief Magistrate over a rather large geographical area, I observed regularly the physical and moral decline of those under my watch.  I've recognized, as I'm sure you have, gentlemen, that here is a close connection between physical and moral decline."  Heads were nodding.  That was good.  "Of course, I was too young to have witnessed, first hand, the disbanding of the militia.  But, there were many who were there and I interviewed a number of them.  It goes without saying, the money that goes into maintaining an active militia is considerable."

"Enormous," Gylo said.  "As we are discovering."

"So, when it was disbanded, there was an immediate surplus.  I'm told that much of the money was diverted to improvements—roads, recreational facilities, parks, beautification … all of which allowed for more jobs."

"That sounds laudable, Doctrex.  But, you said much of the money was diverted.  Where did the rest go?"

"Ah, gentlemen …" I said.  "I asked the same thing of those I interviewed.  You'll remember I told you ours was a centralist Council.  I was told it was winked at by many and accepted by most that there was a fair bit of nest-feathering going on.” 

"I see."

"Still, you may be wondering why I'm telling you this at all."

"Yes, do tell us, brother.  I'm even beginning to wonder myself," Klasco laughed, but he shared a quick glance at me that belied his laughter.

"Starting about a D ago, More than a few travelers, passing through or visiting Lumen, brought news of threats and chest-pounding of a cruel ruler in the Far Northern Province, the name of Glnot Rhuether.  It was rumored he was making ready for a campaign of conquest of all the provinces.  The word was that many of the provinces were reinstituting conscription, largely brought about through the leadership of your august Council of Twelve.  I'm telling you what I was hearing.  Yet, I also heard that most provinces were having a hard time of it, owing to the complacency the citizens had fallen into.  There was even a fear of rebellion, of overthrowing of the smaller council."

"Yes," Gylo said.  "We've heard of such discontent.  Go on."

"Well … because of my position as Chief Magistrate, my conscience wouldn't let me go any longer without bringing my observations and suggestions to the Council.  I used the proper protocol to get an audience with the Council, not on one, or two, but three occasions.  On the first two I was summarily rebuffed and by word passed down to their spokesman outside the chamber, was reminded that my position as Chief Magistrate did not provide me with insight into the affairs of the Council.  It seemed foolhardy, if not suicidal, to have the lawmakers and policymakers be in the dark about what was going on under their noses, so to speak.  Naively, perhaps, I believed that if the Council only knew the seriousness of the situation they would most surely take the right course of action to save the province.  On the occasion of my third attempt at presenting the matter to Council, I was relieved of my position as Chief Magistrate."

"That's unfortunate," said Gylo.  His eyes went from Klasco to me.  "And what did your brother think of this?"

"I didn't tell him."

"And, the reason you didn't tell him?"

"Yes," Klasco seconded.  "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Looking back at it, I should have," I said.  "Honestly, I'm afraid I misjudged your understanding, brother.  Before your colleagues, here, I offer you a public apology."

"But it doesn't explain why."

"I was afraid if I told you the entire story you would have been less than eager to bring me before your fellow Council members."

"I don't understand."

"We all know there is a brotherhood of professions.  Out of shared experiences there is, I'm sure, a brotherhood among artisans, and bakers and shoemakers.  I know there is a brotherhood of magistrates and other peacekeepers … and I would assume there is a brotherhood of Councils, as well."

"Assuming there is, Brother?"  His voice had an edge to it.

Well, don't you see … it may have appeared to you gentlemen that my only reason in coming here was to berate your brethren to the Far South.

Gylo looked first at me then at Klasco.  "Then, enlighten us as to your actual reason for being here."

I put the water glass to my lips, watching him over the rim.  "To petition the Council for my enlistment in the Kabeezan militia."

To a person, every face, but Klasco's, registered astonishment.

Gylo was smiling openly, as though he thought it was a joke, awaiting completion.  "In what capacity, Doctrex?"

I fixed my gaze, unblinking, on him.  "To fight side-by-side with other Kabeezan soldiers.  To push back the enemy.  To keep the Kabeezan soil safe."

Exchanging glances with the Council members, Gylo nodded, and then turned to me.  "Doctrex, if you would excuse the Council; you may wait out in the hallway.  It shouldn't take long.  Our receptionist will call you back in when we are ready.  Is that satisfactory?"

I said it was and, with another small bow, left the room.  The receptionist escorted me to the outside door and opened it for me.

"Thank you, Shamora," I said.

She seemed pleased that I remembered her name.
 
#
 
Out in the hallway I leaned against the wall and took in a few deep breaths.  I appraised my performance.  It was a performance!  I had been empowered, there was no doubt about it—but by whom? Or what?  I was being directed by an intelligence that was not my own.  It was too cogent to be denied.  I hoped it was Axtilla; that she was connecting with me from another dimension.  Nothing could surprise me about her powers.  She demonstrated healing powers, on me, most likely, though I had been unconscious, and certainly on herself.  She also had magical powers: with our first confrontation on the shore; she was facing me one moment and burrowing under the ground the next, ending up behind me.  Then, later, when I was hopelessly wedged in the narrow crevice , exiting the cave, there was the magical way she slid her hand between my back and the cave wall and with a mere movement of her hand up and down, was able to reduce the granite wall to powder, allowing me easy exit.  Her ability to learn the nuances of the English language within the course of about eight or nine hours was nothing short of supernatural.  Why would I not consider the feasibility of psychic communication?  Thought transference would be no more difficult than her other forms of magic.  I'm onto you, dear Axtilla.  The gig's up!  You might as well come right out and talk to me.  And, while you're at it, why not explain what you are trying to get me to do?

The door opened and I pulled away from the wall, standing erect.

"They will see you now, Mr. Braanz."  She held open the door.

"Thank you, Shamora."

All eyes were on me through the glass window as I crossed to the inside door, opened it and entered.  I took my place behind my chair.

"Have a seat," Gylo said.

I dipped my head slightly, and brought it back up, keeping my eyes all the while on Gylo.  I sat down.

"We have made a decision, Doctrex."

"I see."  

"We all concur that we don't want you side-by-side with the soldiers, even if you are protecting Kabeezan soil."

"I see," I said.  I turned my gaze to Klasco, briefly, to see him staring back at me stonily, and then back to Gylo.  "So you are rejecting my petition."

"Yes, I'm afraid we have to."

I stood up.  "Gentlemen," I said.

"No, please sit down, Doctrex.  We concur that it would be a tragic waste of experience and intelligence having you fight side-by-side with the soldiers."

I sat back down.

"We want you to lead the Kabeezan militia as their general."  He paused.  I kept my face unchanged in expression and waited to see if there was more.  "Do you accept our counter offer?  It's understandable if you want to consider it for a while?"

"I don't need to, gentlemen.  Your offer stunned me, momentarily, but I accept it."
 
*     *     *
CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
  • Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
  • Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Kunsin: The magic that Pondria possessed.
  • Kojutake: In the provinces it is the afterlife.
  • Prevaluate: In the provinces, it is where you go just after you die, where you measure yourself to find out whether you will go to Kojutake

Author Notes THANK YOU TO MARK TWAIN AND HIS FRIENDS FROM GOOGLE IMAGES

NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 16
REHEARSING THE LIE

By Jay Squires

 NEW TO “THE TRINING” ADVENTURE?  There are summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 14   What follows is a summary of Cha. 15  
PART 1: Doctrex lays the last of the groundwork necessary to explain to an unsuspecting Klasco how his little Sarisa was the one who had pulled him from the lower plane to theirs, completely bypassing Kojutake.  He starts by using an extended metaphor by comparing Axtilla’s Kojutake with Disneyland.  While Klasco compliments him on his marvelous story-telling skills, Doctrex tells him that Axtilla’s Kojutake is a true story and he needs to accept the truth of it in full if he is to accept the final huge truth.
PART 2: Klasco reaffirms their Brotherhood—that there is nothing that would change that.  When Doctrex completes the story in full, however, Klasco explosively disavows their allegiance.  Doctrex agrees to get off the wagon, but Klasco, while disgusted with Doctrex’s fraudulence, explains the needs of the province is greater than their personal differences.
 

  Chapter Sixteen

Part 1
 
 Our feet clacked down the highly polished floor of the first of several hallways that would take us to the chamber of the Council of Twelve.

"For the purpose of military protocol," Klasco whispered to me, "your surname is Braanz, the same as mine.  You have come from the Far Southern Province of Lumen.  I've been there.  It's very small.  It shouldn't draw any questions from the Council.  Use whatever powers of invention you need—you should have no trouble with that— but remember them.  You may speak with several members individually and they will compare notes later.  Then again, since you are my brother they may accept it on my authority.  I think that will be the case.  Now, tell me about yourself."

"I am Doctrex Braanz from Lumen.  You are my older brother."

He gave me a sidelong glance.  "Are you sure of that?  Well, okay, I am your older brother.
They know some of my history, not all.  My father died when I was young.  My mother raised me—us."

"Our father died when we were young.  Our mother raised us.  Okay.  Where?  Where did she raise us?"

"That's right.  In Klaarkin.  Mother remarried when I was three."

"That's three-D?" I asked, after multiplying three by five, and trying to act casual.

"Three-D, yes—of course!"  We turned down another hallway, lined on either side with marble-like busts of—I assumed—former Kabeezan dignitaries, sitting atop polished wooden pedestals.  "I didn't like my new father and left."

"When?"

"I don't know, three-d and a quardo probably."

I added a year to the fifteen.  "And, when would I have left for Lumen?"

"What do you think … about four D?"

"That's good.  We couldn't be expected to remember those things exactly."

We clacked along without talking.  Lumen, I rehearsed.  About four-d.  Klaarkin  Doctrex Braanz.

Rounding a hallway corner ahead and coming toward us at a fast clip was a tall man with a bald head, except for a fringe the size of an index finger just above his ears.  His face was ruddy, bordering on the red of one who held his breath too long.

"Mr. Braanz," he said, extending a hand.  They shook briefly, and then he looked over at me, appraisingly. 

"Britold," Klasco said, "meet my brother Doctrex Braanz.

"Ah-ha!  I'm happy to meet you, Mr. Braanz."

"Please call me Doctrex," I said, putting out my hand.

Klasco cleared his throat.

"Oh, I couldn't, Mr. Braanz."  He glanced over at Klasco and his face seemed to grow even redder.  "Well, I'd better be going."

"One thing, Britold.  You remember three brothers coming here to enlist?"

"Oh, yes, to find anyone to volunteer to enlist—but here were three volunteers!"

"Yes, Britold, but you only allowed two to enlist."

"That's true, but one was unfit to enlist."

"Britold, we are forced to conscript boys of three-D's.  He's as strong as any two of them.  And, while he might be slower at thinking he will stand beside his brothers and fight.  He will do everything they say, and without questioning.  They will be his mind."

Britold looked doubtful, but he said nothing.

"Did you present your decision to the Council, Britold?"

"No, Sir."

"His given name is Zurn."  He spelled it.  "Same surname as his brothers."  To me he added, "I don't remember the surname, do you?"

I shook my head.

"But, you have it in the enlistment logs, don't you?"

"Yes, sir.  I've forgotten it, too."  He looked momentarily unfocused.  "So you want me to ...?"

"You know where my box is, Britold?  I want Zurn's enlistment papers in my box before I leave today.  I'll take it to him on my way home."

"I'll attend to it right away, sir."  He shifted his eyes to me, smiling nervously.  "My pleasure, Mr. Braanz."  Turning on his heel, he left the way he came.

After he disappeared around the corner, we resumed walking.  At the end of the hall we turned in the opposite direction as Britold, proceeded a short distance and stopped at a great door, ornately carved out of rich, dark mahogany.

"Are we ready?" Klasco asked me.

Doctrex Braanz.  Lumen.  Klaarkin.  About four-d.  "Yes, I believe I am."
 
#
 
Klasco pushed open the door and I followed him into an entry room with the far wall constructed entirely of glass, except for a smaller door to the right.  Behind the window, seven men sat at a large rectangular table.  They were talking, but no words penetrated the glass.  An attractive woman sat behind a desk to the left as we entered.  She smiled at us.  "Mr. Braanz," she said.  "The Council convened a while ago.  Were they expecting you?"

"No, Shamora," he said.  "If you would kindly tell them I have some business to discuss with them.  Also, I would like to have my brother accompany me as a guest."

"Yes, sir," she said, standing and adjusting her dress so it fell evenly below her knees.  "I'll be only a moment."

By now the men had seen us.  A few were waving at Klasco and smiling.  But they were apparently observing protocol by having the receptionist explain our reason for being there without advance notice.

Klasco said to me while she was gone: "I forgot to mention you were the Chief Magistrate over Lumen's Police system."

"You mean Chief of Police?"

"I don't know Chief of Police.  You were the Chief Magistrate."

I added Chief Magistrate to my rehearsal.  "You forgot to mention it?  Thanks."

My sarcasm didn't penetrate his demeanor.  "You're welcome."

The receptionist returned, holding open the door.  "You may go in, now."

"Gentlemen," Klasco began, after we were seated, "I hope you'll forgive my barging into the chambers without giving due notice of intent."

"We need not rest on formality, dear friend," a distinguished older man with silver hair and trimmed, silver moustache, said.  His smile was easy and genuine.  "It's always an enjoyable interruption any time you visit."  There was jovial agreement around the table.  The older gentleman was quite obviously the group's leader.

"Thank you, High Count.  If I may be given leave to introduce my brother to you?"

"I'd have you introduce him to Gylo Typp, though, not High Count."

"As you wish," he said, visibly relaxing, "Gylo, Gentlemen, please meet my brother Doctrex Braanz.  Doctrex, these are the members of the Council of Twelve."

I stood, conscious of squaring my shoulders, as I imagined a Magistrate would.  Smiling, I offered a slight bow.  "I'm honored."  Something strange seemed to be happening to me.  I had planned on saying, "I'm pleased to meet you."  My mouth was ready to form the words when "I'm honored" came out instead.
 
Gylo appeared impressed, though, so it wasn't a bad substitution.  "Please—be seated, sir."  To Klasco he said, "I didn't know you had a brother."

"We left the nest at different times—I first and he later.  When he traveled to the Far South I lost contact with him for a while."

I nodded at the appropriate places.

"Where did you live in the Far South?" Gylo asked me.

I made sure I looked him steadily in eyes as I told him.  "A village by the name of Lumen."  I had planned on leaving it at that, but something in me continued, "Have you heard of it?"  He shook his head.  I glanced at the others.  No one's face registered recognition.

Klasco picked up on it.  "Doctrex is Chief Magistrate of the Lumen Police System, as well as the surrounding village seats."

Gylo laughed, showing white teeth.  "If I'm not mistaken, someone's mighty proud of his little brother."

It was Klasco's turn to laugh.  "Well, yes, I suppose I am, Gylo.  Here I am a lowly farmer and my brother protects the peace for—how many—seven village seats, and Lumen?"

"Eight … but, Brother, it's not one person who protects the peace.  Each village seat has its Vice Magistrate, all very capable, but also protective of their individual jurisdictions.  My job is to try to keep them from tripping over each other."

"Indeed!" Gylo said; while Klasco and others of the Council included me in talk of sundry matters, I noticed Gylo was indirectly studying me.

Klasco apparently noticed this as well, for when he had a chance to break away from the conversation with the others, he seized the moment by addressing Gylo:  "This brings me to the reason why my brother and I traveled to Kabeez and to the Council."

All eyes were now on him.

"And, what is that reason, Klasco?" Gylo asked.

"Doctrex didn't come to visit me out of a desire to reconnect with his brother."

I interrupted him with a laugh that sounded genuine enough.  A part of me that I was confused by and not liking too much, didn't want him to control such a vital statement of intent.  Words and thoughts were formulating in my mind.

"I don't think you give your lovely family's hospitality enough credit, brother.  Certainly, I had an important reason to be with you, but, don't underestimate my selfish desire, being a bachelor, to be coddled, to be spoiled by your family."

The Council joined Gylo in laughing at my admission of human weakness.  When their laughter ended, their smiles and their eyes remained fixed on mine.  Klasco, too, was smiling but in a rather confounded way.  I was sure he wondered where in the world I was going with all this.  I wasn't sure myself—yet.  There was an isolated, dispassionate part of myself that was taking everything in.  I was waiting for an urging from it.  I could feel it coming on now.
 
[PLEASE WATCH FOR THE 2ND PART OF CHAPTER SIXTEEN TO POST SOON]
 
 
CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
  • Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
  • Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Kunsin: The magic that Pondria possessed.
  • Kojutake: In the provinces it is the afterlife.
  • Prevaluate: In the provinces, it is where you go just after you die, where you measure yourself to find out whether you will go to Kojutake
 
 

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 17
ASSAULT ON PAPPERING

By Jay Squires

 NEW TO “THE TRINING” ADVENTURE?  There are summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 15   What follows is a summary of Cha. 16:
Part 1:  Doctrex and Klasco are in the hallway of the Chamber of Twelve.  They are rehearsing the fiction of their childhood and Doctrex’s move to the Southern Province when they encounter Britold, the one who had rejected Zurn.  Klasco orders him to have the enlistment papers ready and in his box when they leave.  They continue their rehearsal and just before they enter the chamber, Klasco “throws him some curves” which baffle him.  They are invited into the chamber and after introductions are made, the head of the Chamber, High Count Gylo Typp, inquires about Doctrex’s reason for wanting to address the Chamber.
Part 2:  What follows is a full-blown oratory that surprises Klasco, as well as Doctrex himself: It ends with his petition to join the Kabeezan army.  The Council is so impressed by the presentation that they ask him to go into the hallway to await their decision.  While he is in the hallway, he muses over how little control he had over what he said; how the words were magically put into his mouth, to be delivered at precisely the right moment.  He feels he was under Axtilla’s control the entire time. He returns to discover they rejected his petition to fight alongside the other soldiers.  Instead they said they wanted him to lead the army as general.
 
 
Chapter Seventeen
 
 
"Whether it's an audience of one, a family of four, or a council of twelve you play your role well, Doctrex."  Klasco had reins in hand and was waiting for me to climb into the wagon.

"I would like to take credit for it," I said, catching the undercurrent of his words.  I pulled myself up to the seat.  

"Don't be so modest.  You played them like—like a slunum."

"Like a what?"

"A slunum!" he growled.  "A slunum!"

I shook my head.

"You know, that musical instrument with so many strings it takes a couple of Ds to master.  A slunum.  The point is, you knew just what to say and what not to say, and you knew precisely when, and when not, to say it.  You were a symphony of control in there," he finished, dryly.

"And, I repeat, Klasco," I said, amazed at the iciness I injected into the syllables of his name, "I'd like to take credit for it, but I can't.  You know something, though? Speaking of what you call my ability at playing an audience like a slumun—"

"A slunum," he corrected, through his teeth.

"A slunum, then; but can't you see that you laid the foundation for it?

"No.  What do you mean?"

"What possible reason did you have in telling me just before we went in that I was Chief Magistrate?"

Klasco frowned and looked puzzled.

"And, when you finally introduced me it was not enough to just say I was Chief Magistrate, but you had to add in the surrounding seven village seats that I was presiding over.  What did you gain by enlarging on my stature before I even had a chance at describing my original fictional position?  Why did you do that, Klasco?"

He looked over at me, his face suddenly transformed, etched in shame.  "I don't know.  I really don't know."

I didn't want to let him off.  "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean I don't know!  It seemed to just pop into my mind and it was like I opened my mouth and the words simply came out."

"Say again."

"It just came to me and I said it.  Is that what you mean?"

"Just like I told you, 'I'd like to take credit for it, but I can't.'  It was the same thing with me.  It was like I was prompted with just about every word and gesture that came from me.  It was as though she didn't want to leave anything to chance."

"She?"

"Or he, or it."

"But you said she, Doctrex.

I smiled, and probably blushed.  "Yes, I did, didn't I?  Well, I guess I felt if I were going to be guided by someone from another dimension, I hoped it would be Axtilla."

"Well, you may be smitten by her, Brother, but the next time you talk with her will you tell her to stay out of my head?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For calling me Brother.  I missed it."

"Well, I didn't know I did."  He clicked his tongue and shook the reins.  The crossans began their slow clopping on Kabeez's cobblestone street.

"It sounded good just the same."

He drove on in silence.

"You know, Brother," I said, deciding it was time for me to dig into some of the subtler parts of Grossling, "we have a saying that I'm familiar with, and it's that you and I are in water up to our necks.  If we don't swim we're going to sink."

"I can see what it means, but not how it applies."

"Then let me tell you.  Since you helped me not just get into the Kabeezan militia, but be a leader over all the fighting men we can't afford to have anyone find out that I'm not who they think I am.  It can happen as quickly and easily as having me misspeak."

"Why should that happen?"

"Not that I would say anything that would disprove that we are brothers or that I was a Chief Magistrate.  Nothing like that.  Something even more direct."

"I'm confused."

"How about if I asked someone how many miles to the Far Northern Province?"

"From here," he said, a little smile playing with the corner of his mouth.  He pointed in a direction over his shoulder.  "Straight away I'd say about eight-hundred miles.  But, taking the roads it would be about two hundred and fifty miles farther.  So, a little over a thousand miles, Doctrex."

I just stared at him.

"Why do you insist on making it difficult?”  He shook his head  “You fully embrace the notion that your Axtilla can put words in your mouth from another dimension by using a magic you don't understand.  Yet you refuse to accept something that everyone you will ever talk to here knows as intimately as his breath, and that is pappering.  If it were Axtilla inside your brain in the Council of Twelve you were pappering her thoughts.  Don't make it so difficult!"

"But it doesn't make sense!"

"Well, of course it doesn't.  And it won't.  But I can tell you what happened when you asked me how many miles to the Far Northern Province.  You said miles but my mind heard Units.  I didn't do the reckoning of how many units in a mile, but a number for the straight away miles was there.  And since my thinking mind told me you won't be going straight away, but by the roads, a second number came to mind.  Which I told you."

"And, everyone does this?  Without thinking about it?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then why did I not automatically hear years instead of Ds when you guessed my age to be the same as yours, eight Ds."

"Because you didn't know you could papper.  And, therefore, you had your number mind turned on.  If instead of saying you were nine Ds old, you said you were forty five years old, my hearing mind would have heard nine Ds."  He had a recognition: "Ah, but this might help!  I would have heard nine Ds but with an accent that would tell me you were from another province."

"Okay," I said, "and yes it does help—I mean the accent part, but how would you answer me back?"

"I would say nine Ds but you would hear—oh, I see, Doctrex!  It is so natural to everyone on this plane, that I forgot you need to have faith you can papper."

"Now we are getting somewhere.  How do I get this faith?"

"I don't know.  But, I do know you'll come a long way toward understanding it if you always practice the first part.  Ask how many miles.  Watch the other's face when he answers.  I really believe you will someday find you are pappering."

"It seems far from me now, Brother, but I don't have a choice but try."

“Then, that’s what you should do.”

I thought about his words in the silence that followed.  Then, as I leaned back and closed my eyes against the glare of the ever-present sun, I followed the words as on a lazy track round and round my mind.  Then, that’s what you should do ….  Then, that’s what I—what I—Then, that’s—”  And like a ribbon, loosely winding round the tracks of my words, becoming part of my words, then replacing my words, the smooth ribbon of Klasco’s humming worked at softening all the corners of my awareness.

I let it.
 
#
 
“We are about at the inn.”

I shot up to a rigid sitting position.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, Brother.”

“I didn’t know I was so tired.”

“Your body knew.  It was good you listened.”  He turned to me and he slowly bobbed his head as in affirmation of his words.  “We will be there soon.  I will be continuing alone after we sleep.  You will resume with Sheleck, Giln and … the other," he faltered.

"Zurn," I said through a yawn.

"Yes.  I have his enlistment papers.  The four of you will continue on to the militia camp beyond Kabeez.  You are to ask for Commander Djars.  He will have been notified of your position by High Count Gylo Typp.  It's best—I’m sure you know—to refer to Gylo in that way.  You should have no problem at Camp Kabeez.  As a matter of fact you may have something of the status of a celebrity."

I had a troubling thought, and it must have shown on my face.

He smiled.  "Yes, I think I know what's on your mind.  You will be entering the camp with Sheleck, Giln and Zurn, but from that point on there shall be no socializing."

I nodded.  How could it be otherwise?

"You and the brothers and Zurn need to plan your journey over dinner tonight.  But, remember, make it easy on yourself and them, by not getting too close."

"I understand."

The crossans responded to Klasco's gentle guidance with the reins and pulled off on the road leading to the inn.

Klasco put his hand on my shoulder.  "I'm going to miss you, Brother," he said, and his eyes, I noticed, were a little glassy.  “I — I —"

He was having trouble finishing his thought.  I didn’t want to rush him.

“I don't know …” he started, his eyes batting.  “how you got to our province.  I don't know that I…” He erupted with a dry chuckle, “that I want to know.  But, I have grown fond of you.  As far as I am concerned, you are my brother.  When we—when you—defeat Glnot Rhuether and return to Kabeez I would be honored to share my land with you and help you build a cottage near us."

I put my hand on his.  "I am moved by your offer, Klasco.  I too feel a brotherhood with you.  I am prepared to lay down my life for Kabeez because you represent all that is good about Kabeez.  I don't know how I know it, but I will face Glnot Rhuether in battle and I believe Axtilla will be beside me.  If I survive, it will be because we survive and Glnot Rhuether will be defeated by our hands.  And, if that happens I must go where Axtilla goes.  Do you understand that?"

"I do, Brother.  Yes, I do."

The door to the inn opened and Sheleck, Giln and Zurn stood in the entrance, grinning.
 
*     *     *
 
CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
  • Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
  • Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Kunsin: The magic that Pondria possessed.
  • Kojutake: In the provinces it is the afterlife.
  • Prevaluate: In the provinces, it is where you go just after you die, where you measure yourself to find out whether you will go to Kojutake
  • Papper: In the provinces, the ability of one language being automatically translated into another so there is no reason for one to learn a foreign language.
  • Grossling:  The language of the provinces.

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 18
FOUR MEN AND A MISSION

By Jay Squires

 NEW TO “THE TRINING” ADVENTURE?  There are summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 16   What follows is a summary of Cha. 17:
The tensions still grave between Doctrex and Klasco, they each admit to the other that their odd behavior before the Council of Twelve seemed caused by an outside source.  The motives for Klasco’s stumbling blocks he put before Doctrex he admitted were inexplicable.  He would open his mouth and the words tumbled out.  The same with Doctrex.  His words were not his own.  Doctrex is convinced it was put in his head by Axtilla.  But, later, when Klasco tries to explain the phenomena of pappering to him and he can’t accept something that to him seems magical, Klasco reproves him by reminding him that he’s willing to accept Axtilla’s magically filling their minds and mouths with words, but not pappering.  Before they arrive back at the Tavern the tension has dissipated and their Brotherhood is renewed.
 

Chapter Eighteen
 
Giln stepped away from the other two and approached the wagon.  He smiled up at us and said, "We've been waiting.  The stable boy saw the dust lifting up from the road and as soon as he recognized your crossans, he ran into the tavern and alerted us."

As though recognizing she was the object of the stable boy's observation, the gray mare suddenly thrust her head in the air, shook her muscled neck and whinnied.
 
Zurn giggled with enjoyment from the doorway.  I saw that he wanted to race over to the crossan, but the way he kept glancing over at Giln, whose back was to him, he must have been warned ahead of time to stay back with Sheleck.  Zurn grinned at Sheleck, whose tan shirt was unbuttoned, exposing a white bandage the doctor must have wrapped a half-dozen times, or so, around his chest.  There was a dull, dark circle on the bandage near his left nipple.

"Was your journey productive?" Giln asked Klasco in a soft voice.

Klasco smiled.  "Productive of what?"

"Well … I mean …" he glanced furtively, left and right.

"We have the papers," Klasco said, keeping his voice down, too.

Giln's eyes filled.  He clasped his hands over his mouth and looked down.  His breath caught in his throat.  When he looked up his eyes were red and he pulled his fingers across his cheeks, wiping the wetness on his trousers.  He sniffed.  "Thank you, sir—Thank you.  I couldn't tell him.  I couldn't give him any hope."  In the brief silence that ensued, I thought he would weep again.  "It would break his heart to stay behind.  It would break mine and Sheleck's to leave him.  After all, he is our brother."

Klasco looked over at me and then back to Giln.  "We understand brotherhood."

Giln made some kind of movement of his hand behind his back.  Sheleck saw it and a full grin spread across his face.  They must have planned the signal.  Zurn was oblivious of it all, intent on watching every movement of the gray mare, who was just now nuzzling the Chestnut's nose.  He pointed and giggled again.
 
#
 
Klasco settled—after some good-natured dickering—on a fair amount to pay Klynch to board the crossans and he left to secure our room.  I accompanied the brothers and Zurn to have a drink at the Tavern.  I explained that Klasco had driven the wagon the entire journey and was looking forward to a nap before dinner.  Before all this, Klasco had told me he would make arrangements with the Innkeeper, who in turn would inform the tavern maidens that the tally for the drinks and any food was to be added to the room cost.

I knew it was his way of honoring our enlistment, in absentia, while allowing him rest from an emotionally draining day.

"I wish Klasco could be here with us," Giln said, as he pulled up a chair.  Sheleck agreed and sat down, with Zurn taking a chair between them.  We ordered ale and when Giln dug in his pocket to pay for it, the maiden shook her head.  "Mr. Braanz has taken care of it."

Seeing their confusion, I told them Braanz was Klasco's surname.  "So, you see, he is with us in spirit.  He is tired, though," I added, "and he must leave in the morning for the rest of the journey home.  Besides, he'll be meeting us for dinner."

"He is a good man, your brother."

I nodded.

"I like his crossans," Zurn said, as though that were a part of the conversation.

I decided to make it a part.  Since I would be commanding him, even indirectly, I figured it would be good to get to know more about him.  "Do you have a crossan, Zurn?"

"No."  The thought seemed to trouble him.  "They said I would forget to take care of it."

I shared glances with Giln and Sheleck.

Sheleck shook his head.  "They!  The people in the village.  That's why we took him away from them to live with us.  They filled his head with all kinds of nonsense.  Robbed him of his confidence.  Zurn, you would take better care of a crossan than any of them would.  You know why?  Because you love crossans.  You believe that, don't you?"

Zurn shrugged.  He was obviously feeling uncomfortable.  "I do love crossans," he said.

"And, they know that.  Crossans know that, don't they, Giln?"

"They sure do.  And, you take care of things you like and things you know like you.  You won't forget."

"Someday, you'll have your very own crossan, Zurn," Sheleck told him.  "And, you'll be able to show us all how well you can take care of it."

Zurn sat up, squared his shoulders.  "I will?" he said.

"You bet you will.  That's a promise."

Zurn leaned back in his chair, smiling.  I wondered if the unasked, unanswered question was running though his mind.  When?  When do I get my crossan?  But he continued smiling long after the conversation had ended for the brothers.

After a few swallows of ale around the table, I figured it was time to find out how I would fit into their plans by being a travel companion during our journey to the enlistment camp.  Soon enough they were going to find out I would be leading them into battle as their general.  The title of general didn't fit well with me yet.  I wasn't sure it ever would.  Where was the persona that had invaded my body at the Council and won me the position?  Where was the confidence, now, that she instilled me with then?  "Have you said your goodbyes to your family yet?  We’ll be gone a long time."

"Oh, yes," Sheleck said.  "It was a tearful time, but that’s now behind us."

"It was before we met you here," Giln added.

"Won't it be a hardship, not having you there?"

"Nothing like the hardship of having our Kabeez overrun by the savages from the Far Northern Province."  Giln's voice raised an octave in saying these words; Sheleck put his hand on his brother's forearm, patting it.

"We're gonna kill them right there, aren't we Sheleck?" Zurn said.

"You bet we are, brother!"

"I like us being brothers."

"You make a good team," I observed.

Giln raised a hand for the maiden who came over and retrieved his and Sheleck's tankards.  Zurn's seemed not to have been touched and mine was half full.  She returned moments later with three tankards, not bringing one for Zurn.  "Have you arranged for your journey to the enlistment camp?" I asked.

"Not entirely," Giln said.  "Klynch—you remember, the stable boy—he told us we should be able to hitch a ride on one of the wagons that come through here, usually every day on their way to Kabeez.  We figured we'd have to split up because of the size of the wagons and join together at the camp, but as it turned out yours was the only wagon so far.  Klynch is keeping a watch for us.  If one doesn't come before we sleep then my father will take us."

"I hope we don't have to ask him," Sheleck said.

"He’ll do it."

"But, I hope it doesn't come to that."

Giln turned to me.  "How will you be going?"

"I thought I would hitch a ride as well."

"If there is none other, then you will join us with my father.  Ah, but look!"  He pointed to the door where Klynch had entered.  "Let's see if the lad has good news for us.  Helooo Klynch!  Give us the good word."

Klynch approached the table at a fast clip.  "Kind sirs," he said, holding his chest with one hand and flattening his palm and the weight of that side of his body down on the tabletop as he huffed and caught his breath.  "Sorry, I was up on the roadway hoping to flag down a kind person, not planning to stay at the inn, just passing by us, but one who would welcome the company of you gentlemen."

"Oh!  And you found someone!"

"No, I'm afraid not.  From out on the road, though, I saw Mr. Braanz here at the inn, waving at me to get my attention.  I ran back to him at full speed."

"And, what did he want?" Giln and Sheleck asked at almost the same time.

"He wanted me to run an errand for him."

"Why are you telling us this?  What errand, man?" Sheleck asked with agitation lifting his voice a pitch.

"Ah," he smiled, "for that you'll need to come with me outside."

We all shared baffled looks, but got up from our table and followed him to the door.
 
*     *     *
 
CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
  • Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
  • Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: 1) According to The Book of Kyre it is “a sudden, easy and complete translation of authority.”  2) A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Kunsin: The magic that Pondria possessed.
  • Kojutake: In the provinces it is the afterlife.
  • Prevaluate: In the provinces, it is where you go just after you die, where you measure yourself to find out whether you will go to Kojutake
  • Papper: In the provinces, the ability of one language being automatically translated into another so there is no reason for one to learn a foreign language.
 
 

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 19
KLASCO'S BIG SURPRISE

By Jay Squires

NEW TO “THE TRINING” ADVENTURE?  There are summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 17   What follows is a summary of Cha. 18:
Doctrex and Klasco arrive back at the Inn.  The brothers and Zurn are waiting.  Giln comes forward and asks in a quiet voice about Zurn.  Klasco tells him he has Zurn’s papers.  An emotional scene follows.  By arrangement Klasco arranges their room while Doctrex takes the three into the tavern for a drink.  The brothers are touched that Klasco has paid for everything in advance; Klasco is resting before dinner, Doctrex explains.  They discuss the travel plans to Camp Kabeez.  Klynch, the stable boy has been trying to hail down a ride for them from a passing wagon, but if not successful, the brother’s father will take them in his wagon.  Klynch comes in, explaining he couldn’t secure a ride for them.  Klasco, he tells them wants to see them outside.  They follow him to the door.
 

Chapter Nineteen
 
 The glare from outside was dazzling, in contrast with the dimly lit tavern we had been in.  I shielded my eyes from the sun.  Standing at the bottom of the steps, one foot on the ground and the other on the first step, Klasco smiled up at us.  Klynch had gone behind him and was on a slow trot to the stables to our right.

"Sorry for the confusion, my friends.  I have a surprise for you, though.  I hope you enjoy it."

"I like surprises," said Zurn.  He had his hands clasped together in such a way that anyone seeing them thus would swear if he released them he would fly away out of sheer, joyful excitement.

"Then, I think you'll like this," Klasco said, and he motioned toward the stable.

Klynch emerged from the stable leading four crossans by their reins.

"What!  What!" the brothers exclaimed in unison while Zurn leaped the three feet off the porch and met Klynch and the crossans on a dead run.  He stopped just short of throwing his arms around the outside crossan's neck and turned to face us.

"Is it—" he began, then stopped and put his hand over his mouth as though he dared not finish the sentence out of a fear he would be wrong.

"Yes it is," said Klasco.  "Each of you has a crossan.  The saddles are in the stable. Gentlemen," he continued, "Do you mind if Zurn chooses his crossan first."

This was too much for Sheleck, who wept openly.  Giln put his arm around his brother's shoulders.  He was grinning and his eyes were glassy.  Zurn waivered, conflicted, a baffled smile on his face while he awaited their answer.

It was soon to come.  "Do it, yes!  Yes!"

That was all he needed.  Zurn went from one crossan to the next, looking up into their eyes, stroking the sides of their faces.  The last crossan, a glistening, black gelding, brought his head down to Zurn, who put his hands on either side right up next to the ears.  The crossan nudged Zurn's chest with his nose.  The choice was made.

Giln and Sheleck clapped and Zurn responded by blushing.  "You promised I would have a crossan and now I have one."  He was beaming.

"Now you can show any who doubted you," Sheleck said.  "That crossan is very lucky to have you taking care of it."

"Shall we draw straws to see who is the next to choose," asked Klasco.

"Let the brothers decide," I told him.  "They are all such beautiful animals.  I'll be happy with whatever one remains."

"In that case, I defer to my brother," said Sheleck.  "He is older and needs to choose one that is of a gentler disposition.  So—you first, Giln."

Giln gave his brother a playful jab in the arm.  "I'll show you gentler!  I choose the freckled one.  He seems spunky."

"In that case I—"  He looked to me.  "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all.  Choose."  I didn't want any of them to know that I had never been on a crossan before.
 
"I choose the other black one," he said.
 
"That leaves the sorrel to you, Doctrex," Klynch told me.  "She is the youngest and most spirited."

Wonderful, I thought.  Just what I need, spirit!  She reminded me of a younger version of Klasco's Chestnut mare, only this spunky one had a white patch running down from a spot between her ears to just above her flared nostrils.

"Giln and Sheleck, before you join Zurn and get to know your crossans, I—and, I'm sure I'm speaking for my brother—want to thank you for risking your lives to come to our aid.  And, afterwards I found that the three of you were planning to risk your lives again to aid our beloved Kabeez against the enemy from the north.  You are heroes in my mind, just as is my brother for volunteering to enlist in the Kabeezan militia even though his homeland is in the far south.  You are all heroes."

Klynch shouted, "Cheers for the heroes!"

Klasco joined him.  "Yes, cheers for the heroes!"

Giln's and Sheleck's faces were red to the roots of their hair and I'm sure I was blushing as well.  Only Zurn seemed oblivious to the cheering, so enrapt was he by his crossan.

"So, gentlemen," Klasco continued, "This is my small way of thanking you for your sacrifices.  You are giving me and all the citizens of Kabeez far more than we could possibly give you.  Thank you … and now you have some crossans that are anxious to get to know you."  The brothers thanked him with hand-shakes and embraces as they made their way toward the crossans.  I lagged a little behind.  I shook his hand and as I embraced him, I whispered in his ear, "Your mares were the closest I had ever been to a crossan."

He patted me on the back and whispered, "Then, you, especially, need to get to know your Sorrel."

I took a deep breath and moved gingerly toward my charge, who was the only one Klynch now held by the reins, the others being led away by the brothers and Zurn.  He handed the reins to me with a smile that said: you should be proud of this beauty, and he wandered off toward Zurn.  Reaching up my free hand to touch the face, the crossan suddenly threw back her head and snorted and began immediately to back up, until there was tension in the reins.  I moved toward her, slowly, making sounds I had heard Klasco make to soothe his crossans.  "There, there, there, there," I said, "shhhhhhh, shhhhhhh, that's a girl …. "

Klasco came over.  "You're doing fine," he said, softly enough that only I heard him.  "She's testing you.  I think she sensed your reluctance.  Just be gentle but firm and unwavering.  Consistent.  That's the trick.  Listen to her.  She may even teach you the faith you need for pappering."

She stopped moving backwards, but she looked down at me from her height, her eyes the color of warm fudge, were large rimmed in white.  Rather than reach again for her face, I laid my hand softly on her shoulder, feeling the muscles ripple under my palm, then relax as I gently massaged them.  I continued to say, "Shhhhhhhh, there, girl, there."  Then, she put her head down and let me stroke her neck.
 
"She's the most independent of the lot," said Klynch from his spot by Zurn's black gelding, "but now you've made her yours."

For a moment I felt a deep sense of pride, but then I wondered how long I could continue to deceive this spirited sorrel.  Soon you, too, will discover that I am a fraud.

 #
 
After dinner, which included generous toasting all around, and a sumptuous roast of some sort of animal, resting in a bed of baby potatoes, carrots and pearl onions, Klasco and I spent a few moments talking before we bedded down.

There was so much that needed to be heard and said.  So much more give and take needed for me to know him and for him to know me.  Yet it wasn't fair to dredge deep emotional subjects before he got the sleep he needed for his long journey home.

I chose a lighter subject.

"Brother," I said, "At the risk of being rude, how much did you pay Klynch to feed and board your mares?"

He looked over his shoulder from where he was bent over the bed, pulling back the covers.  "A credit," he said.

I could feel the confidence slipping out of me with the slumping of my shoulders.  That would have been about thirty-five dollars, which was about a third of the cost of our dinner.  And that sounded like a reasonable amount, but not what I remembered hearing at the time.

He laughed.  "But that wasn't what we bargained for.  We bargained for two and six, which is?" he challenged me.

"Two Fleckets and six Faern."  I waited but nothing came.  Then, I did the math and came up with about twenty-three dollars.

"The bargaining was a game.  He knew it and I knew it.  It's what two businessmen do.  Also, I knew if I gave him a credit he would take good care of me when I returned.  Which he did."

"Indeed he did," I said. "He got you the crossans, didn't he?"

"Three of them were uncollected debts.  Lodgers who left without paying for their room and the boarding of the crossans.  Your sorrel was foaled from a pregnant mare, left here by a tradesman who promised to return after his wares were sold.  He didn't return.  The mare died in foaling.  Klynch raised the sorrel, which is why—you probably noticed—he seemed so fond of her."

"About my crossan," I began.

"Sorry, I won't tell you how much I paid for her."

"No, not that. I mean, Brother, I don't know anything about a crossan."

"Mount it on the left," he said, climbing into bed and pulling the covers up to his chest.  He followed with a ten minute tutorial on swinging into the saddle and dismounting.  "Watch the brothers," he suggested.  "They seem to know what they're doing.  Get a feel for how tight the saddle straps are cinched on the underside.  I'll try to have Klynch explain it to you in private.  I know it's important to you that you don't appear too inexperienced to the brothers."

"It's crossed my mind," I admitted.

"Do they know you're going to be commanding them?"

"Not yet."

"I hope you don't wait until you get to the camp to tell them."

*     *     *
 
CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
  • Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
  • Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
  • Klynch: The stable boy at the Tavern
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: 1) According to The Book of Kyre it is “a sudden, easy and complete translation of authority.”  2) A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Kunsin: The magic that Pondria possessed.
  • Kojutake: In the provinces it is the afterlife.
  • Prevaluate: In the provinces, it is where you go just after you die, where you measure yourself to find out whether you will go to Kojutake
  • Papper: In the provinces, the ability of one language being automatically translated into another so there is no reason for one to learn a foreign language.

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 20
THE VISITOR

By Jay Squires

NEW TO “THE TRINING” ADVENTURE?  There are summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 18   What follows is a summary of Cha. 19:
When Doctrex, the Profue brothers and Zurn follow Klynch out of the tavern they find Klasco is waiting for them at the bottom of the steps.  He has a surprise for them.  Klynch leads four crossans out of the stable.  This is their surprise.  Each chooses his Crossan, with Zurn going first and Doctrex opting to take whichever one is remaining. Klynch tells Doctrex that his crossan is the youngest and most spirited.  Being the last to thank Klasco for his gift, as they embrace, he whispers in his ear he’s never been on a crossan.
 
After dinner, Klasco reassures Doctrex that he will alert Klynch of his inexperience and he will give Doctrex hands-on instruction before the brothers & Zurn come to the stable for their crossans.  Klasco again warns Doctrex not to put off telling the others about his rank and the necessary difference in their relationship at camp.

Chapter Twenty
 
A warm pressure on my lips.  My eyes snapped open.  Framed against the planked ceiling, Axtilla gazed down at me.  I made a muffled noise, but her hand pressed tighter against my mouth and her eyes warned me.  Rolling my head to the side, I saw that Klasco was asleep, curled on his side, facing me.  His mouth was open and with each intake of air his throat made a tiny popping sound.

Pulling her hand away, she smiled and motioned for me to follow her.  She turned her back to me allowing me to get out of bed and slip on my trousers. Then, I followed her to the door on tiptoes.  It was my heartbeat, though, that I was afraid would awaken Klasco.  She opened the door and we went out into the hallway.  Without taking my eyes off her, I closed the door gingerly, so as not to make a clicking sound, and stared at her, shaking my head.

"Axtilla, I don't know—how did you—"
 
She shushed me with two fingers across my lips and then, without warning, she fell into my arms, quietly sobbing.  I held her tightly to me until her breathing became more regular, with only occasional spasms.  "Oh my Doc—trex, my dear, dear Doctrex.  Why—why did you leave me?"

"Let's get away from the door, Axtilla," I told her, escorting her down the hall, my arm across her back and my hand gripping her arm, probably too tightly—so afraid was I of losing her again.  When we were far enough away, I spun her around and embraced her.  Tentatively I pressed my lips against hers.  Then I pulled back enough to look into her eyes, but she guided me back to her lips.  Her mouth opened to receive mine.  Her lips and tongue were hot.  Her breaths came short and rapid.  Her nostrils were like a furnace blast against my face.

"Yes!  Yes, Doctrex—but, no!"  She pulled back from me and shook her head frantically side to side.  "Why, why did you leave me?  Where were you when I woke?  I thought—"  Tears sprang to her eyes.  "I thought the Pomnots had taken you—had killed you!"

I told her of the voice I had heard as she fell asleep, of the child, hanging from something above and calling to me for help.  I went on to explain how I attempted to leap out and pull her down but how she, instead, latched onto me and effortlessly pulled me through to another place, the place where I now was—where—thank God—she now was!

"That was little Sarisa," she interrupted to tell me.

"Yes!  Yes, but how did—"

"It was she who pulled me up and through.  I had been searching for you from below, frantic, abandoned to my fate that I'd never see you again.  I saw her, the same as you did—hanging from something above—only she told me that you were with her daddy and that she would take me to you.  She explained what you had done and I repeated the process.  When I leaped up near her I felt her grip my arms and some power—it had to be magical power—dragged me up to her world."

"And, you met Metra and Klea!  Oh, Axtilla, what a blessing!  And Metra told you that Klasco and I—"

"Had gone to Kabeez."

"And you—and you—but how did you know to stop at the inn?"

"Darling, look at us," she laughed.  "With everything we have to do to make up for missed opportunities—"  She sprang back into my arms directing short, hot, staccato breaths along the side of my face.  "I've missed you so much, my precious Doctrex.  We need to leave these halls, my love.  We mustn't be seen.  Let's go.  We must go outside where we can find a place to be alone."  With that she grasped my hand and led me, half dragging me, down the hallway to the door leading outside.  She thrust open the door and we ran out into the darkness.

Darkness!

I looked at her, helplessly.

She grinned, but it elongated into a fiendish sneer.  Her mouth twisted at its corner into a grimace.  "Brother," she said, but her voice was deep, cavernous.  "Your journey is so slow.  How long must I wait for our reuniting?"

At that very moment I felt a tightening in my side. 

There was a growling next to me.  I turned my head in that direction.  Klasco snorted, and flopped with a knotting of covers to face the wall away from me.

Axtilla!  I moaned, and closing my eyes tightly, I felt the tears trailing from either corner of my eyes, down to my ears.
 
#
 
Klasco shook my shoulder.

I had been aware of his moving about the room for some time.  My back was to him, but I acknowledged him by raising my arm.

I could not go back to sleep since the dream, but lay there thinking of how cruel it had been.  Why would I have a dream so vivid that I could still feel the softness of Axtilla's skin, could inhale, at this very instant, the warm scent of her breath, could taste her sweet mouth?  Why?  To have it all evaporate to a wisp, a phantom!  Why?  Dreams could be useful.  I knew that, somehow.  But, why was I left with only this useless cruelty?

"I must leave soon," Klasco said in a voice just above a whisper.

I rolled to my back and sat up, trying a smile.  "The four of us will need to leave soon, too."  I got out of bed and slipped into my trousers.

"I have something for you," he said. 

"You are giving me so many things, Brother.  I shall repay someday."

"These are gifts and gifts are never repaid.  When you get to the camp you will be given clothing to wear.  And, from that moment on, as long as you are in the militia, your food and lodging will be supplied.  Also, you will be paid nicely.  But, since it will be a while before you receive your militia pay, you will need some credits for odds and ends.  From his pocket he took out some folded bills.  "This is also a gift, so I will hear no more about it.  Here are ten credits."

My math brain told me that ten credits were the equivalent of three hundred and fifty dollars! I tried to protest. 

"No!  No!  A gift," he said, adamantly.  "You and the brothers and Zurn may need some food in Kabeez before you go to the camp.  You will need oats for the crossans, perhaps boarding for them.  The other three may have some money, but they weren't expecting the cost of caring for their crossans.  They are doing Kabeez a great honor.  As are you!  So, you may help them with their shortages.  See?  You will be able to feel good about gifting them as well."

"Thank you, Brother."

He waved it off.  "We will say our goodbyes now.  While you are getting ready I'll be explaining to Klynch that he'll need to give you some private instruction on taking care of your crossan.  Go to him before you meet with the others."

I told him I would.

"Now, it's time to put formality aside."  He laid his hands on either side of my shoulder, giving them a squeeze.  "You are my Brother, truly.  I feel that part of me is going into battle with you—as you.  Don't be reckless!"

"Reckless?  That's a strange thing to say."

"Use the direction from your brain.  Use your powers of persuasion—even deception.  That is your strength."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I wasn't going to.  I'm not sure I should tell you."  He was studying me, looking from one eye to the other."

I laughed.  "Tell me what?"

He was silent a moment, staring in my eyes.  "I had a vision in my sleep, brother."

The remnant of my laugh froze to my lips.

"I envisioned that Glnot Rhuether, himself, was in our room.  He told me he was waiting for you."  He blinked rapidly, and I felt the grip on my shoulders momentarily tighten, then release.  "Yes … he said that."

"What else did he say, Brother?  Klasco, tell me, what else did he say?"

He sighed.  "He wants you to be reckless."

"That's what he said?"

"No, that's what I'm saying.” 

"Then, what did he say?"

"That he has your love—your Axtilla—there with him.  There … there is a marriage planned.  But, don't you see, he wants you to be reckless!"

"It was a dream, Klasco!  Just a dream."  But I felt a cold shiver invade my body.

"It's a vision," he said, summarily.  "But the vision was of Glnot Rhuether.  He told me about your Axtilla.  He wants you to be reckless!  You mustn't be reckless!”
 
*     *     *

A Cast of Characters
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
  • Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
  • Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
  • Klynch: The stable boy at the Tavern
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: 1) According to The Book of Kyre it is “a sudden, easy and complete translation of authority.”  2) A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Kunsin: The magic that Pondria possessed.
  • Kojutake: In the provinces it is the afterlife.
  • Prevaluate: In the provinces, it is where you go just after you die, where you measure yourself to find out whether you will go to Kojutake
  • Papper: In the provinces, the ability of one language being automatically translated into another so there is no reason for one to learn a foreign language.
 
 

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 21
THE MAGIC OF KLASCO'S VISION

By Jay Squires

NEW TO “THE TRINING” ADVENTURE?  You'll find summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 19   What follows is a summary of Cha. 20:
Doctrex opens his eyes to Axtilla’s fingers on his lips. She is leaning over him on the bed, urging him to be quiet. She guides him out of the room.  They kiss outside the door, in the hall.  He pulls her farther away and they embrace passionately.  Tearfully, she asked him why he left.  He explained how it happened.  She told him little Sarisa pulled her through the same way.  She told Axtilla that Doctrex was with her daddy in Kabeez. When he asks her how she knew to find him at the inn, she jokingly asks why they are wasting their time thus.  She wanted to take him outside where they could be alone.  She opens the door and they go out into the darkness.  Darkness!  He stared at her hopelessly.  Her smiled turns into a malevolent smirk.  He awakens in tears. 
In the morning Klasco tells him he needs to go.  He gives Doctrex money for the trip, tells him he made arrangements with Klynch to teach him the rudiments about his crossan.  Reluctantly he tells Doctrex about his vision that he had while sleeping.  Glnot Rhuether was trying to get him to be reckless.  He must do everything he can not to be.  Rhuether said in his vision that Axtilla was there with him and she was to be his bride.
 

Chapter Twenty-One
 
I got to the stables before the brothers Profue, but not before Zurn.

"I'm an early riser, but he was here to wake me up," said Klynch, "He had to take his crossan to exercise.  That was what he told me, and I reminded him that he'd get plenty of exercise on your journey today.  He just loves that crossan, though.  Zurn has such a gentle spirit."

I agreed.  And, then I asked if my brother had spoken to him.

He smiled mischievously.  "The way you were with your sorrel, I'd have taken you to be the most experienced of the lot.  You even tricked her into believing you were in control.  You must just be a natural.  Your brother tells me you've never even been on a crossan before.  Is that right?"

"Not that I remember."

He started chuckling as from a source of hidden knowledge.  "She'll be reminding you a time or two.  Yes, I believe she will."

He brought her to me from her stall.  Her ears twitched and she pulled back from the reins he guided her by and the pressure of the bit in her mouth.  But when she got to me she seemed to visibly relax and stretched her head out for me to pet.

"I can't believe what I'm seeing," he said, handing me the reins.  "Your brother's playing with me, isn't he?  You breed crossans, don't you?  No, no, you're a trainer.  That's what you are.  A trainer.  Were you planning to wait 'til I started to show you how to cinch on the saddle to laugh at me?"

"I assure you, Klynch, I'm as amazed as you are.  And, we don't have much time, so I would like it if you would show me just that.  How do you put on a saddle?  How tightly should I cinch it?  Right up to how I climb on the crossan, how I stop it or get it to turn left or right."

With a smile that seemed to say I'll play along with your little ruse he proceeded to show me how to swing the saddle up onto the sorrels back, adjusting the stirrups on either side, cinching up the girth straps so the saddle would be snug without the straps galling her.  "She has sensitive skin," he said, realizing now, I'm sure, that I was, indeed, a neophyte in the crossan business based on the intensity with which I was watching his movements.  "All it would take is a wrinkle of skin tightened under the girth to chafe and gall her over the course of a ride."

Klynch was in his element now.  He showed me how to mount from the left side, and in guiding her to the left or right, how to use the left or right rein while pushing forward the same leg, pressing it into the crossan's side.  How far forward or how much pressure I would apply, my crossan and I would have to learn together.  I gave him a quick look at those words.  He caught it and said, "Seriously, sir, she hasn't had much saddle experience and I have been her only rider.  She will learn quickly what you want her to do and she'll do everything she can to make you happy."  Then he laughed.  "But no matter how hard she'll try there's nothing she can do to keep your bottom from feeling like it will fall off at the end of the first day's riding.  I wish I could be there to see it!"

I gave him a withering look and he smiled.

"You'll see, sir."

"But, in the mean time I need to learn as much as I can as quickly as I can before the brothers arrive.  I've got a quick mind, Klynch, so just start in.  I don't know anything.  How do you get him to go? How do you stop him?  How do I keep from falling off when he goes too fast?  Tell me everything."

"Start with her, sir."

"What?

"She's a her."

"Ah," I chuckled. "I knew that. I just forgot. Tell me everything about her."

He started, and I shut up.  I had never known anyone who loved crossans as he did.  His eyes lit up and his whole body was filled with nervous energy as he answered not just my questions from the standpoint of the rider, but also what was going on in the mind of the crossan during the rider's command.  It was more important to bond with the crossan than to learn a lot of rote activities.  But, still, since bonding took time, he instructed me on the basics.

"And, have you named her?" he asked.

I told him I hadn't.

"You need to name her, sir, and she needs to hear it first from you.  That's why I never named her.  It's the owner's job.  The name's the invisible rein.  Now,” he indicated with a nod in the direction of the inn, "there come the brothers for their crossans."

I waited for their approach, stroking the mane of my nameless crossan.  I figured I should name her to help us bond, since he seemed to think it was so important.  I didn't understand the connection between a name and invisible rain.  I liked the thought of rain, though.  Then, I remembered the first thing Klynch said about her.  She was the most spirited of the lot!  I was getting close.  Spirit of the rain.  No, too long.  Spirited rain.  No, that said more about the rain than her characteristic spirit.  Rain Spirit!  That was it.  I said it aloud.  "Rain Spirit."  She threw back her head and whinnied.  "That's it, then, isn't it girl?"

"Doctrex," the brothers sang out in unison.  "Appears we caught you in the act of talking to your crossan," Giln said.

"I was just testing out her new name on her.  She seems to like it."

"What is it?" asked Sheleck.

"Rain Spirit."

"Oh," Sheleck said.

"Rain Spirit," Giln repeated.  "Hmmm."

"And, yours, Giln?"

"My crossan?  Freckles."

"Sheleck?"

"It was going to be Blackie, but Zurn got that."  He sounded disappointed.

"You could call him Mud since that's where he'll throw you," said Giln.

Sheleck growled and peppered his brother with pretend blows to the belly, which caused Giln to laugh uproariously.  "So, that's what it will be, then," Sheleck said, raising his hand.  "I officially dub my crossan Mud."

Klynch came out of the stalls guiding Freckles with his reins in one hand and Mud with his reins in the other.  Leaving Rain Spirit with Klynch, I excused myself and returned to my room with the brothers' agreement that we should meet in front of the inn as soon as they rounded up Zurn.
 
#
 
On the way back to my room my mind was occupied with my dream of Axtilla.  It had been so vivid that, when it finally crashed at my feet, I was as devastated as though it were real.  But, I still recognized it as a dream.  Klasco, on the other hand, refused the dream designation.  His was a vision, he insisted.  When I woke I was heartsick to find she was not with me, after all.  When Klasco woke, it was to a vision of reality.  And, whether I admitted it to myself or not, he had invested Glnot Rhuether with the power of magic over us.  I was letting part of it exert power over me, though I wanted to deny it.  I knew that Glnot Rhuether and Axtilla were mortal enemies in life.  It was absurd that they would marry.  She would die before agreeing to that.  Yet, here was Rhuether's magic working through me, now.  I was feeling a renewed sense of urgency.  I had to get to him before Axtilla—before she—but it was a dream, after all!  It wasn't a vision!

I went into the room and closed the door behind me.  I was sweating above my lip and felt weak in the joints.  "We have to go, without delay" I said aloud.  I was here to make a final check of the room, to make sure nothing was left behind, but even that seemed less important to me now than just getting on the road.  I noticed on the writing desk a credit bill, five Fleckets and twenty-five Faerns.  I was sure that leaving them was not an oversight on his part.  His generosity would be considered almost decadent to anyone other than the four of us new enlistees who experienced firsthand his overwhelming respect for our willingness to serve.  I pocketed the bill and the coins.  Taking one more glance around the room, I left.

We no longer had the luxury of time.  I knew I was being driven by the magic within me to come face-to-face with Glnot Rhuether before it was too late.  Ever since my separation from Axtilla, my need—right up until Klasco's vision—was to get to Rhuether before Axtilla did.  But, now, that peculiar, but powerful magic was working though me.

I needed to take control.
 
The time had come when the others needed to know of my rank over them.  Part of me dreaded that with every fiber in me.  Now we had an easy-going friendship among us.  I genuinely liked the brothers Profue.  And there was nothing not to endear one to Zurn.  There was a superficial, but warm, comfort and trust among the four of us.  That was fine for a time of drinking and carousing.  But, friendship and camaraderie were slow mediums for getting things done quickly and decisively.  Sheleck took a knife for me, but he would just as spontaneously deliver a flurry of baby punches to my belly if I told him I needed him to do something or other.  It was important for me to demand respect of them.  As any other leader would.  When I needed them to do something and do it now, there could be no time for teasing, or their even asking—especially their asking—"Brother, why?"

"Why, soldier?  Because, I command it!  That's why!"

Yes, I had to have a talk with them.

I pushed open the door to the outside.

The brothers Profue and Zurn sat mounted on their crossans as comfortable as any Texas Plains Cowboys would.  My crossan was reined to Giln's saddle horn.  She swung her long neck in an arc to look at me.
*     *     *
 
CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
  • Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
  • Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
  • Klynch: The stable boy at the Tavern
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: 1) According to The Book of Kyre it is “a sudden, easy and complete translation of authority.”  2) A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Kunsin: The magic that Pondria possessed.
  • Kojutake: In the provinces it is the afterlife.
  • Prevaluate: In the provinces, it is where you go just after you die, where you measure yourself to find out whether you will go to Kojutake
  • Papper: In the provinces, the ability of one language being automatically translated into another so there is no reason for one to learn a foreign language.
 
 

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 22
A COUPLE OF MOMENTS OF TRUTH

By Jay Squires

NEW TO “THE TRINING” ADVENTURE?  You'll find summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 20   What follows is a summary of Cha. 21:
Before the brothers get to the stable, Doctrex has a meeting with Klynch, the stable-boy.  Doctrex gets a basic lesson on saddling and riding his crossan. The most important thing, though, is bonding with his crossan.  Naming was one of the most important things. He goes on to explain the bonding of crossan and rider as an almost spiritual experience.  Just before the brothers arrive he names her Rain Spirit.  She responds well to it.  He and the Profue brothers share their crossans’ names.  Giln’s is Freckles and Sheleck’s is Mud.  They agree to meet at front of inn as soon as they find Zurn.

On his way to the room he reviews the dream about Axtilla and reaffirms his decision that, no matter what, his major mission was to get to Glnot Rhuether.  He knew he was under the urgent control of Rhuether’s magic.
 

Chapter Twenty-Two
 
I was surprised to see how easily I mounted Rain Spirit.  I remembered to talk sweetly to her while I bent forward and patted her neck.  I tested the stirrups as Klynch told me by gently standing in them to make sure I cleared the saddle in case she started to go to a full gallop.  "Take your time," Klynch had told me.  "Remember, she's just as nervous about you as you are about her.  It's just that she can sense your nerves.  Don't let her.  Relax." 

That was just what I was doing.  It was Rain Spirit and me for just that moment in time.  I was peripherally aware of the others' talking, but if they were talking about me I was oblivious of it.  "Oh, yes, you're a beautiful girl," I cooed.  "We're going to go on a ride today, yes.  You like your name, don't you?  Rain Spirit?  But you are a gentle rain, a gentle spirit, aren't you?… Yes you are."  I brushed back her mane and then glanced over at the others.  They were all staring at me, open-mouthed.

"You like to clear the journey with your crossan before you start?" Sheleck asked me.  He had a twinkle in his eye and I sensed he was hoping I would banter with him a while.  But, in light of my decision, I was afraid to start off wrong by acknowledging his remark, so I ignored it.

"You need to do that with Mud, brother.  He's dumb as a stick," said Giln.

Sheleck glanced from me to his brother and his mouth spread to a grin.  "He'd rather be dumb than embarrassed about having a name like Freckles."

"Don't you listen to Uncle Sheleck, my little beauty."

"Shall we go?" I asked abruptly.

Both sets of eyes turned to me.  "Yes," said Giln.  "It is a long way."

"And we should probably take it slow," Sheleck added, "until the crossans are used to our weight."  He got a smile on his face again.  "All except for Zurn.  I think you slept in that saddle, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't," Zurn said, concerned.

"I was just kidding, brother."

"Well, let's go," I said, making the sound through my teeth that I heard Klasco make; I led with the rein to the right.  She pulled her head in that direction and her neck and body followed as she ambled off toward the road.  "Easy, girl, that's my girl," I whispered.  I heard the lazy clomping of hooves behind me.

When we got to the main road and needed to bear right, I put tension in the right rein and slowly raised my right leg just a few inches until I felt her body's contact against my knee as she maneuvered to the right.  It was like magic to me!  I exalted inside and hoped she could sense my happiness.  "The idea," Klynch had told me, "is for the crossan and rider to be one.  Then it begins to be a response to the mere sound of your voice.  But from first day to that day don't expect all success and no failure.  Your crossan will struggle becoming one with you as well.  There will be testing on both sides."  But, Klynch clearly didn't know how seamlessly we were relating to each other.

Giln drew up next to me.  "I want to give Freckles a little exercise.  Do you want to join me?"

"I think we'll just continue like this for a while.  You go on ahead."

Giln took Freckles into a faster gait and then into a trot.  Soon Sheleck was passing me, too, and then Zurn, guiding their crossans into a trot and then a full gallop.  At first I was coughing with all the rising dust, but after a few moments they had advanced far enough ahead that I could breathe easily again.

But, I didn't like what I was feeling inside.  With this small act of letting them go on ahead, I had let the subtle and fickle reins of power pull away from me and toward them.  At the same time, I didn't like myself for feeling a need for control.  I had to remind myself how necessary it would be when we arrived at the camp and more so when I would be leading them and others in battle.  But, they were good people.  I didn't want to ever forget their intervention saved Klasco's and my life.  Sheleck took the knife that obviously was meant for me.  But, that was then.  Clearly, I was letting my emotions guide my reason.

I reached out my hand and laid it alongside Rain Spirit's neck.  "You understand, don't you, girl?  Are you ready to go a little faster?  I'm counting on you to teach me, girl."  I straightened up in the saddle and applied an even pressure to her sides with my feet.  At first she didn't respond.  I loosened the pressure, so she would have something to contrast against and, remembering the clucking sound I made initially to get her to move, I made the sound again just as I applied the pressure and she pushed off to a slow canter.  Initially, I was bouncing off the saddle with each jolt of her hoof striking the ground, but I remembered Klynch's advice to lift slightly from the saddle when her foreleg went forward into a canter, sitting down when it returned.  It worked, though it took a lot of concentration at first.  Before long, though, I was developing a rhythm in my rising and sitting, so I didn't need to watch her leg movement.  I let her go on a while longer before taking her into a trot.

"Are you ready to get some real exercise, young lady," I asked her in the gentle voice she was used to hearing from me.  As I spoke I pressed my heels in a little more firmly.  When she increased to a trot, and, later to a gallop without my command, I found myself more off the saddle than on it.  But still I was making sure my shoulders were squared and my chin tucked in, just like Klynch told me, and in this short period of time I was already starting to feel one with Rain Spirit.  It was a marvelous feeling.

The Brothers Profue and Zurn were now in sight.  Their crossans were ambling along, now, and, as I approached them all three turned in their saddles.

"Helooo," Giln greeted me.

I pulled back on the reins, but she only slowed a little.  "Whoa," I said while pulling back and down toward my hips with the reins.  "Whoa, girl!"  She slowed to a canter, and then stopped.  I was far enough ahead of them I didn't think they heard the outflow of air from my lungs.  I hoped they didn't see the look on my face as I passed them.  I bent forward and ran my fingers through her mane.  "We've got a few things to iron out, don't we, Rain?" I whispered.  "Like whoa means stop."

The three pulled up nearby, but Giln brought his crossan side-by-side with mine.

"There's a nice place about five units ahead," said Giln, "where you first see a stream.  We thought it would be a nice place to rest the crossans and let them drink.  Is that all right with you?"

I remembered Klasco's advice and repeated, "Five miles?"

I thought Giln frowned, but just briefly, and then he said, "Yes, is that all right?"

I told him it was.

"Yeah, I just thought I'd tell you in case we got separated again so you'd know where to look."

"I'm sure we'll find each other," I said.  "I need to say a few things when we get there."

"I see," he said.  "We all noticed you seemed to be acting a bit strange.  Are you sure you want to wait?"

"Yes, I think that would be best."

It was his turn to nod. 

The silence was heavy as we walked our crossans for a while; then Sheleck was the first to lead Mud to a trot and then a gallop.  Zurn followed.  Giln smiled over at me and then took Freckles off into a trot as well.

I patted Rain Spirit on the neck.  "Are you ready, girl?"  I made my clucking sound, but when I pressed my feet into her side I felt the insides of my thighs seize up.  I stood up on the stirrups to relieve the tension in my thighs.  This confused Rain and she started to trot but slipped back to an amble.  I was able to sit down in the saddle now.  "Let's try it again, Rain …."  This time I made the clucking sound only and she ambled forward.  Okay, let's go, girl," I said with a little more volume and lift to my voice and did my part by sitting up straight in the saddle, squaring my back.  She took off in a trot that graduated to a full gallop.  I lifted off the saddle and sat and lifted off again at the right times.  There was a rhythm and regularity in the lifting and falling of her lead leg, so I experienced for the second time the sublime feeling of oneness between Rain and me.

I was so into the moment that I lost track of how far we'd ridden.  Off to the right I saw the stream and in the shadows of an oak tree the three were lying on their sides, watching me.  I knew Giln had told them of our brief conversation.  "Whoa, whoa, Rain," I said and she slowed to an amble, and then stopped.  I dismounted, self-consciously, swinging my leg higher over the saddle than I needed before planting it on the ground.

The others, I noticed, had left the saddles on.  I loosened the cinch, though, making a mental note to tighten it before we left.  Klynch's warning ran through my mind.  "Don't let your crossan drink right away after she's been running and don't give her much unless you plan on resting her until it runs through her."

I went over and sat on the grass in front of the three who were considering me.  I cleared my throat.  I didn't know why I was making this so hard.  I just had to come out and say it.  "Giln, Sheleck, Zurn, I need to tell you something.  I've been putting it off for too long and you deserve to know now so you can adjust to it."

They stared at me, their expressions unchanging.

"If I've seemed kind of distant recently, it's because I didn't—gentlemen—I am going to be your commander."
*     *     *
CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
  • Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
  • Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
  • Klynch: The stable boy at the Tavern
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: 1) According to The Book of Kyre it is “a sudden, easy and complete translation of authority.”  2) A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Kunsin: The magic that Pondria possessed.
  • Kojutake: In the provinces it is the afterlife.
  • Prevaluate: In the provinces, it is where you go just after you die, where you measure yourself to find out whether you will go to Kojutake
  • Papper: In the provinces, the ability of one language being automatically translated into another so there is no reason for one to learn a foreign language.
 
 
 

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 23
A TRANSFER OF POWER

By Jay Squires

NEW TO “THE TRINING” ADVENTURE?  You'll find summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 21   What follows is a summary of Cha. 22  
Doctrex is distancing himself, emotionally, from the brothers Profue and Zurn.  He knows he has to tell them soon that he will be their commander.  They can discern his detachment.  Zurn senses that Doctrex is somehow mad at him.  Meanwhile, Doctrex has his hands full trying to learn to ride Rain Spirit.  The others go on ahead.  An almost spiritual bond occurs between Doctrex and Rain Spirit as he practices his skills.  He catches up with the three, but they are ready to go on ahead and wait for Doctrex near a stream, five miles hence.  Doctrex tells Giln he has something to tell the three of them when he gets there.  They leave.  He practices some more with Rain Spirit and when he arrives at the stream they are waiting.  He hems and haws a bit before he tells them his secret.

 Chapter Twenty-Three
 
 Giln had a crooked grin on his face as if to say, "I'm waiting—when's the punch line?" Sheleck broke his gaze at me and looked down at the grass, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"It starts at the camp, I said, "and then afterwards, on the way to the Far North, and while we're fighting there.  I needed to tell you now so you could prepare for it.  I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner."

"Is he saying," Zurn said to Sheleck, and, apparently thinking better of it, turned to me.  "Are you saying you're not still mad at me?"

"Oh, Zurn," I said, "I never was mad at you.  I was never mad at any of you, although I can see how you might think that.  It's just that we've grown close to each other over a very short period of time."  I turned my eyes to Sheleck.  "I mean, you can't get much closer than when a person saves your life.  I don't think I ever even said thank you, Sheleck."

"No, you'd have done the same for me."

"But, I didn't and you did.  And that makes all the difference."

"Well …" He shrugged and reddened.

"So, just let me say it, okay?  Sheleck, no matter how they'll want me to act toward you and talk to you—and I'm sure I'll have to yield to what I'll be told is the way to act and talk to people of lower rank—I want you to know—I want all three of you to know that there is truly a brotherhood among us.  I won't forget that you would have given your life for me that day."

"No I wouldn't.  Not if I knew I was going to take the knife."

"See," Giln said, "I told you.  You're trying to make him into a hero.  He won't let you."

“Well, no matter what you say, I won't forget it."

"And, you're not mad at me?" Zurn asked again.

I smiled over at him.  "No, I'm not.  But, when I get to the camp you might begin to think I'm mad at you all over again.  I probably won't be able to talk to you like I am now.  I'll let your brothers explain that to you later.  I think they can do a better job of it than I can."

"They're not really my brothers, you know.  But they look after me like a brother would."

"If they take care of you, they're your brothers."

"So," Giln said, "suppose we pass each other in the camp.  Does this mean you won't say 'hi Giln,' but you'll just salute me?”

"I'm afraid so.  But, I think you'll have to salute me first."

"Or, you won't salute me back?"

"No, or you'll be in trouble."

Giln smiled, but there was a trace of challenge in his eyes.

"It's just the way it is, Giln.  It's called the chain of command."

"So, if one of your betters—" Giln said this word with inflection— "meets you on the street, you'd have to make sure you're paying attention and salute him first."

"I think they call them superiors."

"Well!  That's even better than betters!  So, you have to make sure you salute your superior first."

"If there w—were a superior," I stammered.  "But, Kabeez has a very small army.  So, I've been told I'm him.  I am the superior.

"No one higher."  Giln said it as an emphatic statement.

"That's what I'm told."

"Well.  Okay, then."

"We'd better water our crossans," said Sheleck.  "We've still got a ways to go.”

"That's right," I said.

While I was sitting on the grass with my weight on my left hip and outer thigh and my lower legs angled to the right, I noticed a slight discomfort, a tightness, in the muscles of my buttocks.  Trying to ignore it, I rolled to a hands-and-knees position to push up to my feet.  That was when a massive cramp seized my buttocks and the backs of my thighs.  I let out a yelp and fell back to the ground, writhing, trying to stretch my legs out.

Zurn was the first to run to me.

"Are you okay, Doctrex, sir?"

Sheleck was right behind him.  He kneeled at my side.  I was trying to massage the pain out of the backs of my thighs.  He watched me in silence, and then looked over at Giln.

Both erupted in laughter.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Giln, the grin still on his face.  "Is it a cramp you have?"

I moaned, feeling the question didn't need answering.

Sheleck helped me to my feet.  With my arm across his shoulder he guided me, limping across the grass to the spot where I had Rain Spirit tethered to a low hanging limb of the tree.

"It's been a while since you've been on a crossan?" Sheleck asked me.

I took a breath.  "Forever," I said.

"What?" said Giln.  "I don't believe it!  With all due respect, sir, no one can get on a crossan like Rain Spirit and ride her like you did unless you'd been riding for years."

The cramp was fading.  "I was brand new at it."

Giln shook his head, not making eye contact.  "I'm sorry, sir.  I don't—"

"I guess I'm a quick learner.  And, I had a good teacher."

"I don't know …."  He went over to Freckles, removed his reins from the tree limb and walked him over to the stream.  "But, that would explain your butt cramps," he said over his shoulder."

I laughed.  "Klynch predicted it.  He told me he wished he could be here to see it."  I led Rain Spirit to the stream, beside Freckles.  The others followed with their crossans.  All four, side-by-side, tails twitching, necks hung down to the stream.

I remembered Klynch's injunction not to let her drink too much.  I pulled her back from the stream and while her head was turned, looking longingly at the other three crossans, I tightened her cinch, making sure there wasn't a fold of skin underneath.  I didn't want a grouchy sorrel under me for the duration of the journey.  I tested the give for the saddle.  Satisfied, I mounted her and turned to the others, still with their crossans at the stream.  "I suppose I'll leave, then.  If I get to Kabeez before you do, I'll wait for you at the outskirts."  I stayed a moment for their responce and then finally I made the clucking sound that Rain Spirit acted on, now, without any pressure to her side.

I estimated it was about an hour and a half before I arrived at the outskirts of Kabeez.  There was a low, stone wall that Klasco said went around the perimeter of the city, save this road that marked the entrance and the exit road at the other end of Kabeez.  The wall could never have been conceived as protection to the tender belly of the capital.  One could stand at the wall at the outside of the city and spit into it.  It raised the question in my mind of what its purpose was.  Even the lowly field mice could find easy access to Kabeez.  How easy it would be for an invasion.

I sat on the wall in a shaded spot near the roadway and considered what worldly use such a low wall would have.  Time and again, I was brought round to the same conclusion.  The wall must be symbolic of the physically and spiritually passive life of the citizens.  Given their vulnerability, was there any wonder that the Council of Twelve would conclude their only means of survival against Glnot Rhuether was to have their army engage the enemy in the Far Northern Province? 

Rain Spirit chewed the tender grasses that grew lusher next to the wall.  She was content. I let the reins drape across my lap.  After a quarter hour I was beginning to wonder what was keeping them.  We had made our way at a leisurely amble-trot-gallop, then reversing back to a trot and amble.  Not only was that keeping crossan and rider fresher, but it was also reinforcing in Rain's pliant memory the sound and timbre of my voice along with the slackness and tension of the reins and the pressure of my feet against her sides.  There was no reason, though, for their not being here by now.

I ran the words back through my mind of where I said I would wait for them.  There was one road, one entrance.  No room for misunderstanding there.

"What do you think, Rain, should we go back and see if we can find them?  It's not likely, but it's possible they could have been ambushed, right?"  Rain lifted her rich chocolate eyes to mine and blinked lazily.  I was about to ask her what that meant when I heard the hoof beats and looked to see the dust raising a little over a quarter mile away.  I could now make out the crossans and the faces of the riders.

As they approached, I raised my hand to wave.

Only Zurn returned the greeting.

*     *     *
 
CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
  • Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
  • Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
  • Klynch: The stable boy at the Tavern
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: 1) According to The Book of Kyre it is “a sudden, easy and complete translation of authority.”  2) A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Kunsin: The magic that Pondria possessed.
  • Kojutake: In the provinces it is the afterlife.
  • Prevaluate: In the provinces, it is where you go just after you die, where you measure yourself to find out whether you will go to Kojutake
  • Papper: In the provinces, the ability of one language being automatically translated into another so there is no reason for one to learn a foreign language.

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 24
THE VISIONS OF THE BROTHERS PROFUE

By Jay Squires

NEW TO “THE TRINING” ADVENTURE?  You'll find summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 22   What follows is a summary of Cha. 23:
Doctrex finally musters the courage to tell the brothers Profue and Zurn that he will be their commander at Camp Kabeez and during the battles that follow.  They are stunned and hurt by the news.  As Doctrex gets up to water Rain Spirit, he gets a massive cramp in his buttocks and thigh. The brothers laugh at the spectacle.  This leads to his admission that he had never ridden a crossan before.
 
Doctrex goes on ahead to wait for them at Kabeez.  While he waits, he speculates on the tiny wall the surrounds the city, not capable of keeping the enemy out.  As he is contemplating going back to look for them, he sees them coming toward him.  As he arrive only Zurn waves at him.


Chapter Twenty-Four
 
Pulling off the road, they dismounted next to the wall.

"I was beginning to wonder where you were," I said.

"We needed to talk—the three of us," Giln explained.

"We had to figure out what to do," Sheleck added.

"Well, not that, brother … we know what we have to do.  We enlisted to fight the enemy.  That doesn't change."

"True," said Sheleck, glancing at me and then away,  "but we didn't know that the one we figured would be fighting alongside us will, all of a sudden, be telling us when to fight and when not to."

"But, if not him, someone will be telling us."

The brothers fell silent.

"What is is," I said, filling their void.  "Nothing will change that.  The Council decided I was the best person to lead the army and I will do my best to live up to their expectations.  That means I will tell you who to fight and when.  And, where.  And I will tell all the rest of the soldiers who, when and where to fight.  That's the way it is.  Listen … you could have left back there and gone home.  The army is disorganized.  You'd soon be forgotten in the greater effort to defeat Glnot Rhuether.  But, the important thing is you didn't go home.  Your character and the cause you had committed to fight for were greater than the discomfort, or embarrassment, or whatever it is, of having a friend tell you what to do."

"All true," said Giln, "but we still had to hash it out.  We had to agree among ourselves so we'd have a single voice in the matter.  We also needed to take the time to explain to our brother here"—he put a hand on Zurn's shoulder and gave him a little squeeze—"what it means to have to accept someone's authority over him.  He didn't remember his father or mother—did you Zurn?"

Zurn shook his head.

"And, until Sheleck and I took him away from the villagers, he didn't know authority can come with love.  Sometimes we had to tell you what to do when it wasn't what you wanted to do, right brother?"

He nodded.

"But, you knew we did it because we loved you, right?"

Zurn beamed.

"And, I guess we all three need to remember that we'll have to make sacrifices in order to defeat Glnot Rhuether."

"If you don't mind an observation, Giln, when you say the name Glnot Rhuether your blood seems to stir."

"Yes, sir, it does.  I'm sure for my brother as well.  When we went to the upper academy we studied the Northern Province, which had a history of corruption, but nothing as corrupt as when Glnot Rhuether overthrew the ruling power and established his own.  I believe all the students at the Upper Academy were of one mind and heart that until Rhuether was destroyed there would be no peace without a lingering fear.  Now—I'm sure because we are going to battle him—Glnot Rhuether has even invaded me in my sleep."

I froze.  "What do you mean?"

"He came to me in a vision."

Sheleck let out a cry.  "Brother, he came to you?  When?"

"At the Inn, just before we left for Kabeez."

"To me too!  I should have told you.  I was afraid if you heard the contents of my vision you'd think I was weak."

"You both dreamt of Rhuether?"

Sheleck cocked his head.  "He came to me in a vision, sir."

"Will you tell me about the vision?" I asked.  My heart was starting to pound in my chest.

"He was arrogant, sir!  He said we were coming a thousand units only to have our severed heads ground to fertilizer and our bodies fed to the Pomnots!"

"The same, brother!  He said the same to me.  But, he also said that our leader's head—"

"Would be--would be served on a platter for his new bride."

"The same!" said Giln, his voice rising.  "The very same!  Those exact words!"  He shared a glance with Sheleck.  "I just didn't know then ..."

"No, we had no way..."

The brothers stood staring at each other, obviously amazed, but equally discomfited.

The combination of pounding heartbeat and rapid breathing kept me from saying anything at all for a moment.  Waiting for it to abate, I looked from the brothers to Zurn who was stroking Blackie's mane, the corners of Zurn's mouth upturned, his eyes perhaps inward on an internal landscape populated with pink and violet fluffs of clouds over a lush pasture where Blackie romped endlessly and he floated softly on his crossan's back.
 
#
 
We rented rooms at an inn on the road exiting Kabeez.  Boarding our crossans and giving them the extra attention they deserved, we unloaded our saddlebags to take to our rooms.  I read the uneasiness on the brothers' faces and was quick to let them know that the cost of caring for them until we got to the camp tomorrow was the last material gift that Klasco happily provided.  Their relief was instantaneous and exuberant. 

"Mr. Klasco is a nice man," Zurn announced.

"Klasco is his given name, brother," Sheleck corrected.  "I don't remember his surname, but he is a nice man.  You're right about that."

"Braanz—that's his surname," I said, "but he'd have been just as happy called Mr. Klasco."

"I'd like to see him again after we defeat Rhuether," Giln said.

"I'm sure he'll insist on it," I said.

"You are a nice man, too, Doctor, Sir," Zurn said.

I thanked him and glanced over to see Giln suppressing a smile behind tightened lips.  In spite of their acceptance and resolve, I sensed distance had grown between the three of them and me.

It saddened me and left me a little lonely.
 
#
 
After sleeping we gathered our gear, retrieved our crossans and made ready for the last leg of our journey to the Enlistment camp.  Sheleck estimated it was about twenty units from Kabeez, at a slightly greater incline than the part we'd already travelled.

I thought I'd test it again.  "Twenty miles, Sheleck?  We'd better get on the road, then.  An incline will slow our pace."

"You're right," said Giln.

It seemed bizarre to me that both brothers, on some level, heard miles and converted to units.  It was hard to believe I might someday develop the gift of pappering.  I was gaining a faith in their ability to papper.  It was a start.  Before this day I'd never have imagined developing a rapport with Rain Spirit.  Yet here I was, amazing the brothers Profue and even a seasoned stable boy like Klynch.  Klasco said my relationship with Rain Spirit might be the training ground for pappering.

*     *     *
 
CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pondria:  According to the Tablets of Kyre, he is the one who comes from the sea, to infiltrate the people of the Encloy, deceiving them with his language, setting them up to be destroyed by the Trining.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
  • Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
  • Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
  • Klynch: The stable boy at the Tavern
  • Kyreans:  According to Kabeezan Myth, a people who lived 5,000 years ago (1,000 D’s) who were ultimately destroyed by Glnot Rhuether and the Dark Force
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: 1) According to The Book of Kyre it is “a sudden, easy and complete translation of authority.”  2) A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Kunsin: The magic that Pondria possessed.
  • Kojutake: In the provinces it is the afterlife.
  • Prevaluate: In the provinces, it is where you go just after you die, where you measure yourself to find out whether you will go to Kojutake
  • Papper: In the provinces, the ability of one language being automatically translated into another so there is no reason for one to learn a foreign language.
 
 
 
 
 



 

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 25

By Jay Squires

Chapter Twenty-Five
 
The enlistment camp was not what I had expected.  Sitting well off the road, the camp's perimeter, at least what I could make out from the front, was marked by a variety of pine trees.  There was no fence or wall so that unauthorized entrance to, or exit from, the camp would be a simple matter.
We approached the uniformed soldier standing on a platform just outside the guardhouse.  The brothers Profue and Zurn were in the lead, while I held back to observe.  They handed him their papers which he studied one by one.  Placing the papers on a ledge which extended from the door of his guardhouse, he addressed them:
"You will dismount your crossans and walk along this road to the right to barracks number four, where you will receive your training instructions."
I waited, but sensing no one would ask, I did: "And, what of their crossans?"
He had to bend from the waist to look around Sheleck and see me; when he did, he cast me a look that seemed to challenge my impudence.  "What difference does it make?  Their saddles and gear will be brought to them.  They will be given other crossans, specially trained for battle."
"But, you haven't told me what becomes of these crossans.  Are they boarded and cared for until their return from battle?"
The guard's face reddened.  "Who are you, mister?"
"My name is Doctrex."
Instantly, the guard snapped to attention, saluting.  "Sir," he said, "C-Commander Djars is expecting you.  May I see—I mean do you have your papers sir?"
"Yes I do.  But, first tell me what becomes of the crossans.  This surely isn't the first time this has happened that a new soldier arrives on his own crossan.
"No, sir, it happens aplenty."
"And?"
"And?  And I contact a courier—and someone comes out with a crossan wagon.  He removes the saddle and the gear and brings them to the guard where they get returned to the soldier's barracks."  He stopped talking but continued to watch me.
I stared at him a while longer, until I saw him starting to squirm, and then held out my paper.  He had to go down the steps of the platform and walk between Blackie and Freckles to take it.  He made a slight bow to me, turned, went between them again, and ascended the platform.  He looked it over.  I noticed he was blinking rapidly.
"Here is what I want you to do," I told him.  "Keep the crossans here.  Do not make your call until I discuss the matter with Commander Djars.  Do you understand?"
"I do, sir.  Yes, sir."
"Giln, Sheleck, Zurn, do as this young man has instructed.  Everything will be fine.
They dismounted and made their way past the guard and to the road that curved to the right and would take them to their barracks.  As they walked Zurn looked back over his shoulder at Blackie.
I dismounted and looked up at the guard.  "Now, will you please direct me?"
"Sir … no, sir—you don't have to—I'll call Commander Djars.  You can ride your crossan to his quarters."
"But, I don't understand.  Won't they have a trained crossan for me as well, one that I'm supposed to exchange for this one?"
Clearly, the guard was flustered.  Then, he did something strange: he grinned, fatuously and shrugged.  "I won't call to have the crossans taken away.  I'll wait for further instructions on that.  And, in the meantime, I'll inform Commander Djars that you have arrived."
 
#
 
"Camp Commander is largely a titular position and without much actual power."
I nodded, trying to figure where Commander Djars was going with this, and afraid I knew: he was trying to lead me to a blank wall.  No one below his titled, but ineffectual, position would be able to do anything to resolve the problem.  "Well, it's wrong, Commander Djars.  We both know it's wrong.  Let's fix it."
He produced two snifters from a shelf behind his desk and poured brandy in first mine, then his.  He did this slowly and deliberately with a little smile turning up the corners of his mouth.  "I'm not sure you'd want your newly ranked position here, General Doctrex, linked to such controversy.  As a student of behavior—"
The commander droned on, but his last words: As a student of behavior… struck a chord that I couldn't connect with anything just then but I knew was vitally important … to something.
"—coming in from outside and not rising up the normal chain of command as they have had to do."  He extended the brandy to me and I took it without thanking him.
"The only important thing here is that it's wrong," I said taking a sip of its fruitiness.  "Let's not confuse that issue with anyone's petty jealousy and greed.  Who was the person who initiated this peculiar procedure?  And, how long has it been in effect?"
"Since before I was named commander.  I believe it was suggested by one of the training officers to the previous commander.  I'm sure he was immediately promoted.  General Doctrex, does it make any sense at all that a crossan trained in battle might be a better companion than an old, swayback plow crossan that carried him to the camp?"
"Yes it does, Commander.  It makes perfect sense.  But, I think it goes deeper than that.  Why shouldn't all new recruits or inductees be given with his letter an attached note that warns them of the drawbacks of arriving at the camp on the backs of their crossans.  Give them advance warning so a relative or friend can accompany them and take back the crossan.  What additional reason is there that such a letter doesn't accompany their papers?"
Commander Djars downed the rest of his brandy, set the snifter on the desk, turned and walked to the window that looked out to a courtyard.  He stood there thus, his arms behind him, looking very comfortable in this titular position.  I think he enjoyed knowing that he could stand in this way at the window, rocking heel-to-toe and being fairly certain that the other would wait for him to turn around with his answer.
"Can you think of a reason, Commander Djars?
He turned to me.  "I can think of a reason, General Doctrex, why those notes aren't attached to the letters of enlistment."
I waited for him to tell me and when he didn't, I asked him, again.
"Some of the recruits are mere children, General Doctrex.  They have a warm hearth and family at home.  Most are spoiled.  And, certainly they—and all the recruits, for that matter—have been conditioned by a society that encourages non-violence and passivity.  This first act they experience from the guard who reviews their papers is designed to give them a strong dose of Authoritarianism.  They understand immediately that their new lives are going to be polar opposites of their lives back home.  From the military viewpoint it's a good thing."
"And, from the human and moral standpoint it's not a good thing.  There are other, humane ways of teaching them the military way."
He shrugged.  "And someday, a humane and more nonviolent, passive military will adopt it.  But, for now—"
"What do they do with the crossans, Commander?  Just answer me that?"
"Understand, General Doctrex, the military cannot afford to care for them over an extended—"
"What do they do with them?"
"Let's just say many impoverished people would be going without food if it weren't for the crossan flesh.  And, may I add that when properly prepared it has become a delicacy for the more … privileged classes."
"Which leaves less for the impoverished.  My goodness, Commander, does the military inhumanity never end?"
Commander Djars merely smiled.
"We need to fix this."
"I'm afraid that would be impossible at this time."
"Then, I must add my crossan to the other three at the guardhouse and inform Klasco Braanz that his gifts to his four friends are to be slaughtered so the privileged classes and—if there is any remaining—the impoverished will have dinner tonight."  I watched the color in his face drain with the mention of Klasco Braanz.
"Of c-course," he stammered, "we shall make an exception in the case of the three crossans.  And … and yours was never in question, General."
"But, indeed it was, and is, Commander!  There will be no exceptions.  I will accept nothing less than the reversal of the current directive.  The slaughter of the recruit's crossans will desist at once."
The color came back into his face … and then kept coming until it was flaming red.  I thought he might be having a stroke or heart attack.  He was shaking.  Sitting down in his chair, he stared out the window.  His eyes started to tear.  "Yes, General, as of this moment there will be no more seizure of the crossans.  A request will go to the Council of Twelve to have the note be attached to the recruits' papers."
"I will take care of the second part, Commander.  Just make sure the first part in enforced."
"It will, General Doctrex."  He pushed a button and soon the door opened and a young man in military uniform entered.  Inside the door he snapped to attention and saluted.  We returned it.  "Is General Doctrex' quarters ready?
"Yes, sir," the soldier said.
"Then show him the way."  He turned to me.  "General Doctrex," he said with a little dip of his head.
"Commander Djars," I countered, but without the bow, and left with the young man.
 
 


Chapter 25
POWER CORRUPTS

By Jay Squires

NEW TO “THE TRINING” FANTASY ADVENTURE?  You'll find summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 23   What follows is a summary of Cha. 24 
Giln explains their lateness in meeting with Doctrex: The three needed to be of the same mind about the forced change in relationship between themselves and Doctrex.  They also needed to explain it to Zurn.  Giln tells Doctrex of his vision he had the same time Doctrex and Klasco had theirs.  Sheleck is amazed that he had the very same vision.  It was of Glnot Rhuether warning them that in their defeat their heads will be ground up for fertilizer and their bodies fed to the Pomnots.  He concluded that one of them would have his severed head delivered on a platter as a gift for Rhuether’s new Bride.  After spending the night at a Kabeezan inn, paid for by Klasco’s money, they proceeded to Camp Kabeez.
 
Chapter Twenty-Five
 
The enlistment camp was not what I had expected.  Sitting well off the road, the camp's perimeter, at least what I could make out from the front, was marked by a variety of pine trees.  There was no fence or wall so that unauthorized entrance to, or exit from, the camp would be a simple matter.

We approached the uniformed soldier standing on a platform just outside the guardhouse.  The brothers Profue and Zurn were in the lead, while I held back to observe.  They handed him their papers which he studied one by one.  Placing the papers on a ledge which extended from the door of his guardhouse, he addressed them:

"You will dismount your crossans and walk along this road to the right to barracks number four, where you will receive your training instructions."

I waited, but sensing no one would ask, I did: "And, what of their crossans?"

He had to bend from the waist to look around Sheleck and see me; when he did, he cast me a look that seemed to challenge my impudence.  "What difference does it make?  Their saddles and gear will be brought to them.  They will be given other crossans, specially trained for battle."

"But, you haven't told me what becomes of these crossans.  Are they boarded and cared for until their return from battle?"

The guard's face reddened.  "And, just who are you, mister?"

"My name is Doctrex."

Instantly, the guard snapped to attention, saluting.  "Sir," he said, "C-Commander Djars is expecting you.  May I see—I mean do you have your papers sir?"

"Yes I do.  But, first tell me what becomes of the crossans.  This surely isn't the first time this has happened that a new soldier arrives on his own crossan."

"No, sir, it happens aplenty."

"And?"

"And?  And I contact a courier—and someone comes out with a crossan wagon.  He removes the saddle and the gear and brings them to the guard where they get returned to the soldier's barracks."  He stopped talking but continued to watch me.

I stared at him a while longer, until I saw him starting to squirm, and then held out my paper.  He had to go down the steps of the platform and walk between Blackie and Freckles to take it.  He made a slight bow to me, turned, went between them again, and ascended the platform.  He looked it over.  I noticed he was blinking rapidly.

"Here is what I want you to do," I told him.  "Keep the crossans here.  Do not make your call until I discuss the matter with Commander Djars.  Do you understand?"

"I do, sir.  Yes, sir."

"Giln, Sheleck, Zurn, do as this young man has instructed.  Everything will be fine."

They dismounted and made their way past the guard and to the road that curved to the right and would take them to their barracks.  As they walked Zurn looked back over his shoulder at Blackie.

I dismounted and looked up at the guard.  "Now, will you please direct me?"

"Sir … no, sir—you don't have to—I'll call Commander Djars.  You can ride your crossan to his quarters."

"But, I don't understand.  Won't they have a trained crossan for me as well, one that I'm supposed to exchange for this one?"

Clearly, the guard was flustered.  Then, he did something strange: he grinned, fatuously and shrugged.  "I won't call to have the crossans taken away.  I'll wait for further instructions on that.  And, in the meantime, I'll inform Commander Djars that you have arrived."
 
#
 
"Camp Commander is largely a titular position and without much actual power."

I nodded, trying to figure where Commander Djars was going with this, and afraid I knew: he was trying to lead me to a blank wall.  No one below his titled, but ineffectual, position would be able to do anything to resolve the problem.  "Well, it's wrong, Commander Djars.  We both know it's wrong.  Let's fix it."

He produced two snifters from a shelf behind his desk and poured brandy in first mine, then his.  He did this slowly and deliberately with a little smile turning up the corners of his mouth.  "I'm not sure you'd want your newly ranked position here, General Doctrex, linked to such controversy.  As a student of behavior—"

The commander droned on, but his last words: As a student of behavior… struck a chord that I couldn't connect to anything just then but I knew was vitally important … to something.

"—coming in from outside and not rising up the normal chain of command as they have had to do."  He extended the brandy to me and I took it without thanking him.

"The only important thing here is that it's wrong," I said taking a sip of its fruitiness.  "Let's not confuse that issue with anyone's petty jealousy and greed.  Who was the person who initiated this peculiar procedure?  And, how long has it been in effect?"

"Since before I was named commander.  I believe it was suggested by one of the training officers to the previous commander.  I'm sure he was immediately promoted.  General Doctrex, does it make any sense at all that a crossan trained in battle might be a better companion than an old, swayback plow crossan that carried him to the camp?"

"Yes it does, Commander.  It makes perfect sense.  But, I think it goes deeper than that.  Why shouldn't all new recruits or inductees be given with his letter an attached note that warns them of the drawbacks of arriving at the camp on the backs of their crossans.  Give them advance warning so a relative or friend can accompany them and take back the crossan.  What additional reason is there that such a letter doesn't accompany their papers?"
Commander Djars downed the rest of his brandy, set the snifter on the desk, turned and walked to the window that looked out to a courtyard.  He stood there thus, his arms behind him, seeming very comfortable in this titular position.  I think he enjoyed knowing that he could stand in this way at the window, rocking heel-to-toe and being fairly certain that the other would wait for him to turn around with his answer.

"Can you think of a reason, Commander Djars?

He turned to me.  "I can think of a reason, General Doctrex, why those notes aren't attached to the letters of enlistment."

I waited for him to tell me and when he didn't, I asked him, again.

"Some of the recruits are mere children, General Doctrex.  They have a warm hearth and family at home.  Most are spoiled.  And, certainly they—and all the recruits, for that matter—have been conditioned by a society that encourages non-violence and passivity.  This first act they experience from the guard who reviews their papers is designed to give them a strong dose of Authoritarianism.  They understand immediately that their new lives are going to be polar opposites of their lives back home.  From the military viewpoint it's a good thing."

"And, from the human and moral standpoint it's not a good thing.  There are other, humane ways of teaching them the military way."

He shrugged.  "And someday, a humane and more nonviolent, passive military will adopt it.  But, for now—"

"What do they do with the crossans, Commander?  Just answer me that?"

"Understand, General Doctrex, the military cannot afford to care for them over an extended—"

"What do they do with them?"

"Let's just say many impoverished people would be going without food if it weren't for the crossan flesh.  And, may I add that when properly prepared it has become a delicacy for the more … privileged classes."

"Which leaves less for the impoverished.  My goodness, Commander, does the military inhumanity never end?"

Commander Djars merely smiled.

"We need to fix this."

"I'm afraid that would be impossible at this time."

"Then, I must add my crossan to the other three at the guardhouse and inform Klasco Braanz that his gifts to his four friends are to be slaughtered so the privileged classes and—if there is any remaining—the impoverished will have dinner tonight."  I watched the color in his face drain with the mention of Klasco Braanz.

"Of c-course," he stammered, "we shall make an exception in the case of the three crossans.  And … and yours was never in question, General."

"But, indeed it was, and is, Commander!  There will be no exceptions.  I will accept nothing less than the reversal of the current directive.  The slaughter of the recruit's crossans will desist at once."

The color came back into his face … and then kept coming until it was flaming red.  I thought he might be having a stroke or heart attack.  He was shaking.  Sitting down in his chair, he stared out the window.  His eyes started to tear.  "Yes, General, as of this moment there will be no more seizure of the crossans.  A request will go to the Council of Twelve to have the note be attached to the recruits' papers."

"I will take care of the second part, Commander.  Just make sure the first part is enforced."

"It will, General Doctrex."  He pushed a button and soon the door opened and a young man in military uniform entered.  Inside the door he snapped to attention and saluted.  We returned it.  "Is General Doctrex' quarters ready?"

"Yes, sir," the soldier said.

"Then show him the way."  Then the Commander turned to me.  "General Doctrex," he said with a little dip of his head.

"Commander Djars," I countered, but without the bow, and left with the young man.
 
*     *     *

CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Pomnots:  (Pom = Dark not = Force)  Formerly on the plane below, these ancestors of the people of the Encloy were drawn up to the Kojutake during the Bining's 30 days of darkness.  Fierce, living for their appetites, they are not above killing each other to satisfy their insatiable hunger.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
  • Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
  • Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: 1) According to The Book of Kyre it is “a sudden, easy and complete translation of authority.”  2) A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Kunsin: The magic that Pondria possessed.
  • Kojutake: In the provinces it is the afterlife.
  • Prevaluate: In the provinces, it is where you go just after you die, where you measure yourself to find out whether you will go to Kojutake
  • Papper: In the provinces, the ability of one language being automatically translated into another so there is no reason for one to learn a foreign language.
  • Commander Djars:  Commander of Camp Kabeez.  Doctrex’s nemesis while there.

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 26
THE PRUDENCE OF THE DILIGENT

By Jay Squires

NEW TO “THE TRINING” FANTASY ADVENTURE?  You'll find summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 24   What follows is a summary of Cha. 25 
Doctrex, the brothers Profue and Zurn arrive at Camp Kabeez.  The crossans are confiscated by the guard and the brothers walk to their barracks. Doctrex is allowed to keep his to ride to Commander Djars quarters.  He refuses and orders all the crossans to be kept until further notification.  Doctrex learns from Commander Djars of the slaughter of the recruits’ crossans to be used for feeding the poor and, most recently, the wealthy, who’d developed a taste for it.  Doctrex orders the practice to desist immediately and prepared to notify The Council of Twelve’s Gylo Typp.
 

Chapter Twenty-Six
 
The next day, I composed a long letter on military stationery to The Council of Twelve's High Count Gylo Typp. I addressed the problem of crossan slaughter and the cruel mental punishment exacted on the new recruits by having their crossans forcibly separated from them the moment they were ushered into the camp.  While I wasn't privy to knowing specifically, how the training officers conveyed the information to the recruits that they no longer owned their crossans, I was sure the signal moment of disclosure came with the return of their saddles and gear to them in their barracks.

I had to conclude it was designed to shock them into immediate compliance with the strict military rule.

I went on to explain from a more personal perspective that Klasco Braanz had gifted me, and three new enlistees, crossans, saddles and gear at no small expense.  He did this because he was so moved by the patriotic fervor exhibited by the three and how much they were willing to sacrifice for Kabeez.  I suspected I was gifted a crossan for being his brother.  We all grew quite attached to our crossans, I explained, and I was certain Gylo understood their dismay in having to leave their crossans and walk to their barracks.  Of course, the guard exempted me from the rule after he read my papers and allowed me to ride into the camp and to Commander Djar's quarters on Rain Spirit's back.

I, of course, refused this exemption.

The simple solution, I offered, was to include a "note of explanation" to the enlistment papers so each recruit would be forewarned.

I assured the High Count of my belief that the practices of the camp, especially the slaughter of the crossans and subsequent use of the meat, had never been brought to his attention or he would have stopped it immediately.

I implored him to right the matter expeditiously before one more innocent crossan was slaughtered to tickle the palate of the elite and feed the greed of the brokers of immorality.
 
#
 
I signed, sealed, and addressed the letter and gave it to the courier who assured me it would be delivered the following day.  His words were, "…in one waking."

After seven wakings I had not received an answer.

Already, scores of new recruits had arrived.  I had to make sure that Commander Djars had made good on his word that the practice had been discontinued.  All that I experienced over those seven wakings led me to believe he had given the order to the trainers.

It was about a mile and a half to the gymnasium where I was daily tutored on Far Northern Province geography.  I chose to “walk it” at a medium-fast clip, to allow me an extra measure of conditioning.  During one of those constitutionals I came upon two trainers, whom I recognized by their red hats; while they saluted it was without the crispness reserved for a superior officer they respected.

This was an intuitive judgment, but I would soon be affirming it.
 
#
 
"Tell me, Commander Djars, what was the response you got from the trainers?"

He was pouring us a drink and with the question he gave me a puzzled sidelong glance.  "What response would you expect there to be, General?  They were given orders.  They obeyed them.  They are adapting."

I took my drink from his hand.  "I see.  And, over the last seven days (I purposely chose days, and watched for his reaction.) how many recruits have arrived for training?"

He didn't question the use of days instead of wakings.  He went to his desk and ran his finger down a column on a paper there.  "Twenty-three.  Seventeen with crossans."

"And, where are those seventeen crossans?"

"They are corralled near the battle steeds, General, while we are awaiting word from the Council of Twelve as to how we are to get them home to the recruits' families.  It may be costly.  It is already an extra drain on our reserves for feeding them."

"But, it's an honorable expense."

"And, may I ask what the Council's decision was about the notes attached to the enlistment letters?"

"It will be done, Commander, because it is the right thing to do."

He took a sip and he smiled.  "No answer yet, eh, General Doctrex?  You don't suppose that the Council has—you know—developed a taste for crossan flesh?"

I downed what was left of my drink and waited for the burning to spread from my throat to my chest.  But, I managed to keep my eyes trained on his and my jaw firm.  "I think, Commander Djars, it would be best to say I didn't quite understand your words."  I smiled.  "Would you care to repeat them?"

He reached for my empty glass and returned them both to the bar.  "How have your studies been going, General?  I understand, though I've never been there, that the topography of the Far Northern Province can be treacherous, and, inasmuch as they are in their dark cycle it is icy and difficult for the soldier to endure."
 
"It's what I'm learning."

"And, yet you choose to lead some five-hundred men there.  I admire you for that, General."  He did not seem entirely insincere.  "You know," he continued, "about three hundred of those men have been training rigorously for over a quardo' D."  I made the quick translation to over a year.

"They've been training for over a year, Commander Djars?"

He referred again to the sheet on his desk.  "Only about a hundred men are currently being trained as recruits.  They have been here less than a quardo' Fi."
 
And, the three that I came with, and I, have been here a little over a week.

"Yes, eight wakings."

"I'm sure there's a point somewhere in there that's struggling to express itself, Commander.  Please tell me what it is."

He smiled at what I said.  "I haven't gotten there yet, General Doctrex.  If you'll permit me, in two fi quardo …"

Not quardo' Fi, which was a month, but two fi quardo, with fi quardo being a week.  So, two weeks.  I was getting better at this.  The computation was quick and I didn't lose the context of his sentence.

"… you will be graduating all the fighting men and readying them for the march."

"Tempus Fugit, eh Commander?"

"What?"

So much for pappering Latin.  "Time Flies.  So, we'll be graduating them in two weeks?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"A suggestion from a tired, old camp commander who's staying behind?”

I nodded but couldn't conceal my confusion.

"Align yourself with the more experienced soldiers.  They will be better prepared and better conditioned.  And, most of them higher ranked than the lesser experienced.  Also," he said, "they will be quite sensitive to any perceived, um, what would you say … favoritism?"

I thanked him for sharing his suggestion, and left.
 
#
 
Ten wakings after my initial post had gone, the courier arrived with two letters for me: one from the High Count which was simply return-addressed Gylo Typp but was sent to me with the full title of General Doctrex.  The second letter was from Klasco Braanz.  The return address was his home and he also used my full title as the addressee.

I opened Gylo Typp's letter first.  The order of opening was fortunate because—looking back at it later—had I opened Klasco's first, I might have left the other letter unopened.
 #
 
I smoothed the letter on my desk and bent over it, reading:
 
My dear Doctrex:
 
I hope this letter finds you well and adapting propitiously—other than the case in point—to military life.

Your assumption was correct.  I had no inkling that anything so horrible and immoral was taking place at the camp.  It is unacceptable and Commander Djars has been notified that the practice will desist at once.  [The last two words were underscored twice and I noticed a hole his pen had made at the end of the final underscore.]  "Furthermore, Doctrex, I assure you that we will make every effort to discover who first authorized such a despicable practice.  He will be duly and summarily punished.

As far as the practice of having crossans, trained for battle, and provided to each recruit, I'm sure you understand the importance of this.  This uniformity is so critical to the success of our mission that I would hope you also would choose not to take Rain Spirit into battle.  All four crossans (assuming you see the importance of my words above) will be boarded and well cared for at Kabeezan expense until your return. I suppose that someone with your insight into human behavior ...

… My eyes locked on the words, your insight into human behavior, and I could not immediately go on.  Something was nudging me, urging me to connect but with what?  A person involved with human behavior would be a psychologist or psychiatrist.  With that thought, an image flashed into my mind of world-weary man, perched behind a large, polished desk, chin resting on the balled fist of his right hand, whose arm extended out of the sleeve of a dark blue suit.  The fingers of the other hand drummed a beat on the desktop.  An expensive watch gleamed on the wrist of that arm.  He was staring across the desk at someone—I assumed someone—shrouded in shadow, and I was no longer looking at the image of this man, but rather looking out from his own eyes.

The moment I realized the incongruity of this, both images, both points of view, vanished and I was staring again down at the letter.

…with your insight into human behavior you will no doubt expect that there might be subtle (and perhaps not so subtle) repercussions as a result of being a part of this crackdown.  Make no doubt about it, word of your "confrontation" with Commander Djars has already filtered down to the people who are instrumental in making sure that nefarious practice runs smoothly.  As I said, we will find out who is responsible, but in the meantime it might be prudent to be diligent.

Let me say, in closing, how happy I am in knowing we made the right decision in choosing you.  Wishing you continued and ultimate success, I remain

Yours truly,

Gylo.
 
#
 
It might be prudent to be diligent.  Yes, I had strong feelings that I had not heard the last of this.  The source of income at least to a few people locally was suddenly and completely cut off.  Who knew how far and wide the practice went.  How many other camps between here and the Far Northern Provence were steeped in this evil greed and power?  It will definitely be prudent to be diligent!

I remembered the second letter, written by Klasco.  I picked it up and studied how it was addressed.  While the name and address were neatly penned, there was a kind of restless hurriedness to the script.  I didn't know why that should be unsettling, but for some reason it was.

I lifted the flap and withdrew the letter, flattening it on the desk.
 
CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
  • Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
  • Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: 1) According to The Book of Kyre it is “a sudden, easy and complete translation of authority.”  2) A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Papper: In the provinces, the ability of one language being automatically translated into another so there is no reason for one to learn a foreign language.
  • Commander Djars:  Commander of Camp Kabeez.  Doctrex’s nemesis while there.
  • Gylo Typp: High Count of The Council of Twelve.

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 27
KLASCO'S LETTER

By Jay Squires

NEW TO “THE TRINING” FANTASY ADVENTURE?  You'll find summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 25   What follows is a summary of Cha. 26:

Doctrex drafts a letter to High Count Gylo Typp of the Council of Twelve telling of immoral practices at Camp Kabeez.  He waits ten days to get an answer.  When it does arrive he finds there is another letter from Klasco.  He reads Gylo Typp’s letter first.  It assures him that all his demands were to be met, warns him against possible repercussions by those who would be affected, and advises him to be prudent.  He opens the letter from Klasco ....
 

Chapter Twenty-Seven (Part A)
 
 NOTE:  Part A is the 1st of 2 parts that together comprise the final chapter of Book I

 
My dear Brother Doctrex:
 
How I wish you were here right now, that I had my hands planted on your shoulders and was looking you directly in your eyes.  The news I have for you now I can hardly believe the truth of, though I was only once removed from seeing the proof of it with my own eyes.  By “once removed” I mean my wife, Metra, witnessed it.  And, it confirms everything you, my dear Brother, had been telling me from the beginning.

Be patient, though, while I let this unfold as it happened.  To do otherwise might allow my critical mind to scurry in and patch over what is unreasonable.  And so much of it is unreasonable.  See?  I must start at the beginning.

When I pulled my wagon to the front of our cottage, dear Metra raced through the door to meet me.  Even before hugging me, she spewed out all at once about the visions Sarisa had been having since we left [there it was again: visions!]  The visions left her crying fitfully over the voice she heard—voices instructing her on what she had to do.  After she was cried out, she became contrite that she hadn't told us what the voice had made her do earlier.

Metra coaxed the story out of her about how she had pulled you to our plane from the one below.  Of course she believed Sarisa to about the same degree as I believed you; but for her, she figured it was Sarisa's overactive imagination.  Many children Sarisa's age have imaginary playmates, I'm sure you know.  What troubled Metra though (and still troubles me) was the voice demanding her allegiance.  It was not unlike the voices Klea said she heard—and still hears.

The next sleep when she again had the vision with the same consequences as before, Metra decided to accompany Sarisa to the spot where she claimed this happened.  Amazingly, Metra saw with her own eyes the chasm and even peered down into it.  She saw the other plane in all its desolation and aridity.  But, she saw no person.  Sarisa kept insisting, though, that there was someone there.  She heard a voice.

I stood up, strode across the room.  I didn’t want to read the rest of the letter, afraid of what I might discover.  I was filled with foreboding.  But, I had to read it.  I had to know!  I went back.

At this point, you can imagine how frightened Metra was.  She told Sarisa to come home and turned to leave, assuming she—our heretofore, perfectly obedient daughter—would be at her heels.  Instead, Sarisa dove into the chasm and seemed to hang there, halfway between two planes.  Metra, hysterical, was now tugging on Sarisa's feet, but she might as well have been trying to pull a tree out of the ground.

All the while, Metra heard Sarisa talking to someone from below.  This continued for some time and by now Metra was exhausted and resigned herself to merely holding on to her daughter's feet in case the magic force should stop.

What happened next, Metra could not tell me about without trembling all over and her voice breaking.  Her little daughter, our precious little star, was suddenly propelled backwards out of the chasm, like a cork from a bottle, her skinny, twig-like arms extended down in front of her and her tiny fingers clasped tightly to a person, a young lady, nearly triple her weight.  Both flew up and in an arc out of the chasm, landing softly on the meadow grass behind a disbelieving Metra.  The young lady cast a stunned gaze at Sarisa, then at Metra.

The words swam on the page.  "Axtilla," I whispered, "you were there my precious Axtilla.  It wasn't a dream!"  But, something dark and sinuous had found inroads to my brief elation.  I could not face its image in my mind now.  I took in a breath, wiped my eyes and returned to the letter.

This will come as no surprise to you that the lady's name is Axtilla.  To hear Metra speak of her, Brother, she is a beautiful woman.  She is also a woman of mystery—I believe because she didn't know my Metra and feared possible reprisal if she spoke too freely.  Clearly, though, when Axtilla asked about a man who might have come through in the way she had, there was tenderness, a caring, in her voice—as perhaps only another woman would have perceived.

I dragged my hand across my eyes again.

She got directions for where we were headed—for Kabeez—but without regard for distances, she left with some bread and cheese and riding a crossan that Metra gave her, even though she confessed she might not be able to return it.

Though the chances are slim, how I pray she has found you by now.  One needs a woman like Axtilla to be waiting for him when he returns from battle.

Brother, if you were here now, I would put my hands on your shoulders, look you straight in the eyes and confess my regret and apologies for any of the doubts I had about you.  I know you already have forgiven me because that is your nature.  But, I need to make the apology to heal my soul.

I pray that this finds you well … and with Axtilla in your arms.
 
Your Brother,
 
Klasco.
 
#
 
I folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope.  Dropping it and the other envelope in the drawer of my writing desk, I turned the key and checked that it was locked.  I put the key in my pocket.

His last words kept travelling a sort of loop through my mind: "I pray that this finds you well … and with Axtilla in your arms.”

With Axtilla in your arms.

I stared out the window.
 
How unsuited I was for leading an army into battle!  The Kabeezans needed—and High Count Gylo Typp believed he had—a man of unswerving dedication to command an army through treacherous territory and over icy conditions, to face and defeat, the powerful and feared Glnot Rhuether! 

The fact was, either of the Profue brothers was much better material than I for the job.  They were dedicated.  They were driven.  They were passionate.  I merely possessed an uncanny ability to convince a group of influential strangers that I was indeed something I knew I was not.  I wasn’t even privy to the source of that ability.

From the beginning of my life on this plane I knew the chance was slim to none that I could get to Glnot Rhuether on my own.
 
Once in enemy territory, I needed a structure and knowledge that, by myself, I didn't possess.  And, with Klasco’s assistance that solution materialized.  I was content to be one of the enlistees of the Kabeezan military.  To be the leader of the army?  That was beyond my ken.

Once I began my story, and initiated the process of fabrication … I started to see the cumulative effects of my words on the Council.  I painted nothing less than the portrait of one who was invincible.

Then, I became persuaded by my own words.

I knew I wasn’t the one doing the convincing, but the words were coming from my mouth and my mannerisms supported them.

Only I knew, deep inside, the extent of my fraudulence.  Only I knew that nothing about me was unswerving.  Not a bone of my body nor hair on my head was totally dedicated to this monumental labor.
 
What would unswerve me?  What would rip me away from my supposed dedication?  I knew the answer in an instant:

Axtilla!

I would abandon ten-thousand soldiers in a heartbeat to race to the side of an endangered Axtilla.  Her wellbeing was my only real compass.  She was my greatest good.  And I would be her most unswerving and dedicated protector.

The safety of Kabeez, the caring for my troops—these were a distant second to my Axtilla!

I paced in front of the window, from one wall to the other, touching it absently, turning and pacing back, touching that wall and returning.  I repeated her name with each fall of my foot, “Axtilla … Axtilla …”

Like a madman I crossed the room, my mind ricocheting inwardly, a tornado of warring thoughts.  Where is she?  Klasco’s post was ten days old.  Where is Axtilla, now?  She should have been here by now.  Unless … wait!  What was I thinking?

Of course ... she didn’t know!
*     *     *
CAST OF CHARACTERS
  • Doctrex:  The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
  • Axtilla:  The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
  • Glnot Rhuether:  According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
  • Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
  • Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
  • Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
  • Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
  • Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
  • Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
  • Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
  • Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
  • Trining: 1) According to The Book of Kyre it is “a sudden, easy and complete translation of authority.”  2) A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
  • Papper: In the provinces, the ability of one language being automatically translated into another so there is no reason for one to learn a foreign language.
  • Commander Djars:  Commander of Camp Kabeez.  Doctrex’s nemesis while there.
  • Gylo Typp: High Count of The Council of Twelve. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Author Notes NOTE: Reluctantly, but at the request of many Fanstorians, I am including a Glossary of Characters and Terms. I trust the reader who measures his/her interest by the length of the "scanning bar" will keep in mind the space that list takes up.


Chapter 27
DISSOLUTION OF DOCTREX

By Jay Squires

NEW TO “THE TRINING” FANTASY ADVENTURE?  You'll find summaries beginning with Cha. 2 and continuing to Cha. 27   What follows is the concluding lines of Chapter 27 (Part A) :

The safety of Kabeez, the caring for my troops—these were a distant second to my Axtilla!

I paced in front of the window, from one wall to the other, touching it absently, turning and pacing back, touching that wall and returning.  I repeated her name with each fall of my foot, “Axtilla … Axtilla …”

Like a madman I crossed the room, my mind ricocheting inwardly, a tornado of warring thoughts.  Where is she?  Klasco’s post was ten days old.  Where is Axtilla, now?  She should have been here by now.  Unless … wait!  What was I thinking?

Of course ... she didn’t know!

END OF BOOK I
Chapter Twenty-Seven (Part B)
 
I returned to the writing desk, unlocked the drawer and withdrew Klasco’s letter. I ran my fingers across the lines of ornate script. For all his giddy enthusiasm, Klasco was short on facts. How long ago did Axtilla leave? More to the point, how much did Metra know about our reason for travelling to Kabeez?

My guess was: nothing. Klasco had been trying to protect her from his personal enlistment dilemma, and it was only the night before our journey that I came up with the solution of enlisting in his place. I doubted he even had a chance to tell her about that. Besides, he told me before we left that Klea had been a handful that night; and, we departed with the family still sleeping.

Metra probably figured her husband was simply being a good host. He was taking me to Kabeez, it being the only large city within a reasonable distance worthy of visiting. That he would take me to visit the Council of Twelve—and, unannounced at that—why would she have even entertained the thought?

All she’d have considered doing was simply to give Axtilla food, water, a crossan, and point her in the general direction we’d have taken.

I dropped the letter back in the drawer, locking it.

“So,” I sighed, “where are you, my love?”

I peered through the window, swept my gaze left to right. Was I expecting to see her ambling toward my quarters between the oaks, across the carpet of pink flowers? I closed my eyes a moment, summoning up her face. Smiling, I remembered its lovely contortion as the buffoonery of my dance robbed her of her senses and left her collapsed in insuppressible laughter.

I resumed my pacing, touching the wall, turning, heading back. A residue of her laughter still lingered and, grinning, I chanted her name every time my left foot struck the floor. “Axtilla … Axtilla … Axtilla.”

Soon, though, I found myself peering inward at another face, this time etched in stark, drawn contours—that gape-eyed panic I witnessed the very moment Kojutake stripped away her reason and revealed to me the soul of an unprotected, vulnerable child. This -- this was the Axtilla who needed me. This was the Axtilla I would protect at all costs.

“Yes!” came so suddenly, so unexpectedly, I whipped my head to the window to see who had said it. The glass gave back the reflection of a crazed man, eyes white-rimmed, hair mussed, jaw-line grim—a terrified man.

Why, though?  Why am I so afraid?

“Rhuether wants you to be reckless.” That was Klasco’s warning before he left the tavern for home.  That was the lesson he extracted from his vision.  Rhuether was trying to goad me into being reckless by boasting that Axtilla was with him. She was going to be his bride.

At that same sleeping, when Klasco had his vision, and I had dreamed of Axtilla with such poignancy I could feel, smell, even taste her … Glnot Rhuether, himself, appeared to the brothers in simultaneous visions. His message to them: that their quest would be futile, would lead to their inevitable death and their leader’s head would be served on a platter to Rhuether’s new bride.

The realization struck me.

Oh, Axtilla! You went straight away to Glnot Rhuether, didn’t you? You said it was your destiny to destroy him. So, you let your destiny lead you. But, how did he learn about me? Did he torture my name out of you?

He needs me to be reckless ….

I continued to pace, but the next wall I reached out to touch, I sagged against, instead. I could no longer stand. My legs wobbled, my breathing was fast and shallow.

I remembered Djars words: he told me the troops’ graduation would be in two weeks. How could I wait that long? Add a week for troop preparation, acquisition of food and medical supplies, assignment of their crossans.Our thousand-mile journey to Rhuether’s Palace in the Far Northern Province would not begin for nearly a month! And, it could take another month to get there.

No! I wouldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it.

Still leaning, my shoulder pressed against the wall, I buried my face in my hands. My breaths came in hot staccato blasts against my wrists. Removing my hands from my face, I shook them frantically and I took in a deep breath, let it out and gulped in another.

Get hold of yourself. You need to think!

Options flashed before my mind. Only one made sense, though. Rain Spirit was corralled with the other recruits’ crossans. As general, I needed no permission to take her for a ride. Yes, that was it. We’d go to Kabeez. I planned to visit there anyway, to have award medals designed. I figured I’d use them to honor soldiers’ valor during battle.

Thanks to Klasco’s generosity, I still had a wad of bills in my pocket. He wanted me to use the credits to purchase odds and ends until I received my military pay. Part of those credits I’d planned to use for the medals.

I took another breath.

Now, thanks be to you, Brother, I will use your generosity to subsidize nothing less than my desertion ….

Desertion!

It took just that aberrant thought for my eyes to fill, for the room to tilt and swim out of focus, and for me to be acutely conscious of myself, within my body, sliding the rest of the way down the wall and collapsing in a heap. And, with an outside awareness wholly apart from my own scrabbled thoughts, I recognized the general standing aside and watching with the stern objectivity of a judge as I sobbed. He continued to watch me with his head cocked in wonder as a kind of manic laughter bubbled out of me now, and tried to replace the sobbing.

While both these emotions vied for a while, neither took a stronghold.

The general puzzled over me as I curled to my side; he looked impatiently at my knees, tucked into my rib cage and we both listened intently, but separately, to the ebb and flow, to the sucking sounds of the tide that was my own ruptured breathing. For how long, I had no idea—was it a minute? An hour? There was no way of gauging it.

And, then, from somewhere outside of all time and space, a kind of peace washed over me. A stillness and tranquility filled me. I kept my eyes closed, afraid if I opened them the opiate of this peace would vaporize and there would be nothing to replace it but the confused dilemma of questions for which I had no answers.

As from a finite dot within the stillness, a word swelled to fill my mind:

Doctrex …

The sacred was in the voicing of those two syllables. My teeth chattered. I tried to say her name, but I couldn’t control my trembling lips; I pressed the back of my hand against my mouth.

This is not you, Doctrex.

The words settled over me like a chilling mist. The tone was gentle, but strangely accusatory. It left me shamed, but still feeling worthwhile.

This is the unchecked part of you he wants to control.

I knew who the he was.

You must keep the words of your Brother Klasco pressed to your heart. Rhuether wants you to be reckless. Rhuether needs you to be reckless!

What you require is the general. Don’t you see? You need the general’s cool head, his self-righteousness, his sense of structure, his power.

Why was she telling me this? I didn’t ask to be the general.

No, of course you didn’t. The general is the buffer between you and that perception of fraudulence you embrace so lovingly. Without the general, your own foolish courage, your rashness, your recklessness would get you killed. Without the general, you would be dancing around the campfire thrusting your defiance in the face of any Pomnot who would come near you.

I sensed with the long pause she left behind, that she was waiting for my reaction. The corners of my mouth twitched, but I didn’t give in to the ridiculous image.

Good! You won’t either. You’ve started to feel the general’s control. That’s why. This will surprise you, Doctrex, but the general needs you as much as you need him. He can be horribly stuffy and full of his own power. Your display of emotion, just now, embarrassed him—you know that, don’t you? That’s why he’s not down there with you. He knows you belong together, but he just couldn’t face his observation that you had lost control.

To you, the full impact of what Doctrex had almost done crashed over you and brought you to a new grounding. That grounding with reality is what the general lacks. He has only tradition and protocol.

Without you, the general and Commander Djars would be evenly matched in their fight over empty power and meaningless territory.

She stopped.

Silence filled the space between us. I wanted to open my eyes, to prove she was there, that I wasn’t losing my mind. But, I couldn’t bear the disappointment of another unfulfilled dream.

I’m not here, either, Doctrex. At least not in the way you want me here. Still, you’re not losing your mind. To have straddled your crossan with a wad of credits in your pocket and galloped off in pursuit of your own inglorious death … that would have been losing your mind! Your descent down the wall should have been your proof of that. That was your reintroduction to sanity. So, sit up. Turn toward my voice.

Her words were compelling. From my side, I pushed myself up to my hip and braced my weight against my straightened arm, but I still resisted turning around.

If it’s so important to see me, I’ll be here.  Turn around, Doctrex.

I straightened the rest of the way up, took in a quick gulp of air, and brought my legs around toward her voice.

My breath caught in my throat, along with any foolish words that would have otherwise tumbled out.  While just a few moments ago, I could not get myself to turn toward her, now I could not take my eyes off—not Axtilla, but whatever this luminous semblance of her was that hovered just off the floor and an arms-length away. I trained my gaze on where her face should be, and watched it tighten into a sharper definition, while the rest of her shimmered into the insubstantial.

It is best this way. I am in the spirit of Kyre.

“Why?” I found myself saying, amazed the question even found form.

Kyre needs you.

“How …” I gulped back the rest of the words to which I was afraid of hearing the answer. I finally I asked: “How about—Axtilla?”

Without warning, her face began to oscillate against the collision of my words, like the reflected image on the tranquil surface of a pool, scattering away from a handful of tossed pebbles. I watched helplessly as her features blended, then faded and drifted into the hovering undifferentiated rest of her.

Her silence invaded me.

Why would my words, challenging the depth of her feelings toward me, have so devastating an effect on her?

Out of the wispy aura that had become Axtilla, her words first faltered: Because … and then followed gently with: because Kyre’s needs and the needs of my people come first. A glowing outline of her face reappeared, and then fleshed out in contours of shadow and light.

I grappled with the question, not letting my mind hold it back: “And, how about after Kyre, and after your people—what are Axtilla’s  needs then?”

Doctrex, she said, wearily, having the question answered, or even the need to have the question answered—this is what feeds your recklessness.

“Tell me at least where you are.”

Her face dissolved again, and then returned.

Ask yourself if you truly want to know.

"Finding you has been my only pursuit from the moment I got yanked up onto this plane.” My jaw was seized with trembling. “Yes!” I said, far too loudly. “Yes, I want to know. Where are you?”

In the Palace of Qarnolt.

“Are you imprisoned there?”

I’m not imprisoned.

Something plummeted inside. I thought I would be ill. It passed, but then I struggled to keep myself from sobbing again. “So the rest of Klasco’s vision is true: you are Glnot Rhuether’s bride-to-be.”

Rhuether wants it to be so.

“Yes?”

I will not marry him.

“So, he will murder you?”

Kyre is with me.

I sighed. “Or imprison you?”

Perhaps.

I got to my feet. She shimmered away. It angered me. “Listen, Axtilla!”

Excellent! The general is back.

I felt a rising impatience with the way this was going. “On the night Klasco had his vision, the brothers—”

The brothers Profue had their own visit from Rhuether. Yes.

She wasn’t making this easy. “Then you know their separate visions were of a defeated Kabeezan Army.”

Yes, with their leader’s head brought on a platter as a gift for Rhuether’s new bride.

I sniffed. “I must say, you’re taking that mighty well!”

She giggled and for an instant her face transformed to a dazzling kaleidoscope of tinkling, colored lights.

That was the best of Doctrex and the General combined. Yes, Rhuether wants you to believe I will be his bride—and you indicated earlier you were fully capable of believing it. With her words the soft contours of her face returned. Only her golden eyes retained the brilliant sparkle. But, General Doctrex she said, emphasizing General. She directed her eyes to mine. You are made of sterner stuff.

“Kyre is with you,” I said, flatly.

Yes, he is.

“So … Kyre met you on the road to Kabeez.” I was beginning to feel an odd, unwarranted anger welling up in me, that I wanted to subdue, but couldn’t control the words it produced. “He simply whisked you off the back of your crossan, and wrapped you in some kind of veil of invisibility and ushered you off to the Palace of Qarnolt?” I added after a pause and an inward congratulatory smile: “Wait! Did he take the crossan as well? That belongs to the Braanz’s. That should be returned.”

What is your real question, General Doctrex?  She asked without a heartbeat of a pause. Her voice was gentle, forgiving.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Well … Okay, my real question: I want to know why Kyre can magically transport you to the Palace of Qarnolt while I have to creep along dragging an army behind me.”

Many things must first happen to the right people, with the right timing and in the right order. Kyre needed to get us first on Rhuether’s plane. You had to go initially. There was so much groundwork you had to lay. I followed at the precise moment my work was to begin.

“And, little Sarisa was there for both of us.”

Need you look any further for Kyre’s magic? And, yet Sarisa’s father just happened to be one of the members of the Council of Twelve. How fortuitous! Klasco might, instead, have been the village drunkard who just came home at night to beat his wife and children. Yes, I think a lot of forces were at work to get you in front of the Council of Twelve.

“I have to admit, I felt those forces working through me as I stood before the Council. I spoke words that weren’t my own, like—like—”

Like Kyre was within you, speaking through you ….

“Or, like Glnot Rhuether,” I interrupted. “He seems to have staked a claim to my thoughts, as well. Or, at least my dreams.”

He has his magic. That’s a certainty. You must listen very carefully to all the words you hear. You must learn to discern the true from the false. But, know this above all else …

Her final challenge, followed by silence, piqued my attention.

Know that Rhuether wants you to be alone and vulnerable—where you will be most reckless. You need the army, General Doctrex. Forces have directed you to the Army from the beginning. This is where Kyre needs you.

She drifted out for just a moment, and then returned.

And, now, General Doctrex …

There was finality in her voice. “Now?”

Yes.  Kyre’s words to me are that you must turn from me now, and go to the window. Close your eyes, once there.

“And, if I don’t?” I asked, with a trace of a challenge. “If I open them?” I was picturing a pillar of salt.

You will remember nothing of our meeting tonight, General Doctrex.  Its essence, the lessons you learned, will be forever a part of you, but you will not know whence they came. There will be no memory beyond your standing at the window, earlier, searching for Axtilla.

“Then, what was the purpose of any of this?”

What was what purpose, General Doctrex?

I turned around and shuffled toward the window. I was vaguely troubled that I just heard myself talking—talking to myself! I needed to get some sleep. I hadn’t been resting enough since I got here.

I briefly scanned the expanse of pink meadow, left to right.  Where are you?

My eyelids felt leaden.

I closed them.
 
 
 

Author Notes CAST OF CHARACTERS

Doctrex: The name Axtilla gave to the man who woke up on the shoure of an alien land without memory or identity.
Axtilla: The young lady who discovered the ailing man on the shore, brought him to health and then held him captive, certain he is Pondria.
Glnot Rhuether: According to Axtilla, the name of the dark entity who is destined to empower the lodging [the Trining] on their plane.
Klasco Braanz: Husband to Metra and father to Sarisa and Klea.
Metra Braanz: Wife to Klasco and mother to Sarisa and Klea
Sarisa Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's youngest daughter.
Klea Braanz: Klasco's and Metra's eldest daughter
Giln Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl.
Sheleck Profue: One of the three who helped Doctrex & Klasco in the Tavern Brawl & was stabbed.
Zurn: Intellectually challenged, Giln and Sheleck are watching out for him.
Crossans: They are similar to horses, but broader in the chest and sloping down to smaller haunches than horses.
Trining: 1) According to The Book of Kyre it is a sudden, easy and complete translation of authority. 2) A code word used by the enemies in the Far Northern Province marking the beginning of the all-out assault by Glnot Rhuether on the other provinces.
Papper: In the provinces, the ability of one language being automatically translated into another so there is no reason for one to learn a foreign language.
Commander Djars: Commander of Camp Kabeez. Doctrex's nemesis while there.
Gylo Typp: High Count of The Council of Twelve.
Kojutake: To Axtilla and the Kyreans, the frightening world on the other side of the membrane, occupied by Pomnots and the dark entity: Glnot Rhuether.

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