Brankin Huoh

  The world swayed back and forth in front of Tagan’s eyes in concert with the wagon's lurching movement. He sat silently as his father, Kenok, kept a watchful gaze over the pair of horses pulling their carriage through the deep mud. Tagan watched with fascination as the horses’ muscle-bound legs flexed and strained in powerful cadence, steam rising from their backs as they toiled. Above, the sky was still full of the low, dark clouds that had brought the rain that had been falling for the last several days, as if God were trying the wash the land clean of man and beast alike. Rain landed on his face in icy drops and Tagan closed his eyes to savor the connection with nature. He was relishing the purity and majesty when the familiar feeling slunk across his senses as if someone were pulling back a blind. As usual it started with his muscles going rigid; his eyes open wide like he was trying to see the entirety of the world all at once. Deep inside his brain a tingling started. It was faint at first, like an annoying itch, but it quickly ratcheted up in intensity to where it felt as if his whole brain was vibrating like a beehive; as if someone had rung a gong and his brain was trying to synchronize to the frequency. Then he would hear a crackling noise, like a piece of paper being crumpled into a ball. When that happened, the visions would start.

  Akin to the curtains being drawn during a theatre production, a fantastic world would appear overlaid on top of the real world, geographically meshing with where he was. Sometimes if Tagan were inside, the other world was outside and vice versa but most of the time this other world overlaid perfectly the real world he lived in. There were beings in this other world as well but they didn’t take any notice of him and went about their business. They weren’t frightening beings. Rather they were grand and majestic and inspired reverence. Their clothes shimmered in the golden light that seemed to radiate from the land itself and would change hue as they turned and strode about. They were tall and graceful and walked with a lightness that belied their size, as if they were trying to be as delicate as they could of the land on which they trod. The men were lean but powerful in appearance, their hair worn shoulder length, curtaining oval faces with high cheekbones, pointy noses and slanting eyes. The women wore long flowing robes, waist length hair held in long ponytails or curling around them, bouncy and alive as they walked. Where the men were strong and commanding the women were beautiful. They had a radiance about them that made it hard to pull your eyes away. You wanted to curl up in their laps while they sang sweet soft melodies to you. It was raining in this world as well as in his, Tagan noticed, unsure if he had ever stopped to consider the weather in this world before. The rain there was different, though. It was light and cheery, the trees and plants reaching up broad and wide to grab every bit of it they could. The rain didn’t stop the people there from their tasks and they went merrily about their way seeming to enjoy it as another perk of living here.

  This land was exactly opposite of Brankin Huoh, where Tagan lived. Everything here was beautiful and proportionally balanced with colors so vivid they almost hurt his eyes. Calm and serene, everything seemed to radiate with peace and Tagan longed to stay there as long as he could.

  These visions were nothing new to Tagan. They had been part of his life as far back as he could remember. So much so that Tagan assumed that everybody had them, that they were quite natural. That was until he mentioned the visions to his mother, Sequil. She had come in from the garden and found Tagan seemingly paralyzed, staring vacantly into space. When she grabbed and shook him, Tagan came back to his senses. When Sequil asked him what he had been doing, he asked if she thought it was as beautiful as he did.

  “Is what as beautiful?” Sequil asked, her head whipping back and forth trying to spot what Tagan was referring to.

  “The other world and the other people. It’s so fantastic, don’t you think?” Tagan’s voice was soft and lilting as if he were speaking to Sequil from the other world. “How come it’s so different from where we live?”

  “Tagan, what are you talking about?” Sequil’s voice rose sharply. “What other world? There is only our world where we live here in Brankin Huoh.”

  “But I can see it sometimes, the other world. Don't you?” Tagan was confused at his mother’s reaction.

  “Are you sick?” Sequil asked, dropping the carrots she had picked in the garden on the floor and launching them to Tagan’s forehead to check his temperature.

  “No mom, I feel fine. I don’t understand why you can’t see it.”

  Sequil scooped him up, carrying him toward his bed and screaming, “Kenok, Kenok, come quickly. Something is wrong with Tagan.”

  Tagan lay still in his mother’s arms trying to figure out what the problem was. As Sequil placed him in bed and was pulling the covers over him, his dad, Kenok, raced in from where he had been chopping wood, the axe still in his hand, sweat rolling down his face.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded in his booming voice.

  “It’s Tagan. He’s seeing things. Things that aren’t there.” Tears streamed down Sequil’s pale cheeks. She wrung her delicate hands as she stepped from foot to foot.

  Kenok looked at Tagan and leaned his axe against the end of the bed. He sat down next to his son and felt his head with one of his big, meaty hands. “What’s going on, boy?” he asked gruffly. “What are you seeing?”

  Tagan didn’t see what all the fuss was about and so he described what he could see in detail. The people, the vivid colors and the way everything, even the land itself, was infused with an unexplainable, vibrant energy.

  “You see!” Sequil screeched as she paced back and forth next to them. “We need to get the healer, Kenok.”

  At this point Kenok got up and gently steered a hysterical Sequil into the other room. Tagan heard faint snippets of their conversation and he understood they feared he had either contracted the Trelyai virus or that he was possessed. He didn't know what either of those things meant but it sounded serious. In the end, Kenok rode into town to fetch the healer.

  Tagan spent the next three days in bed as the healer had him drink strange medicinal brews that made him sleepy or shaky or both at once. As he suffered through the effects of the medicine, the healer and his assistant said many prayers over him, finally pronouncing him cured on the afternoon of the third day.

  Sequil was overjoyed and hugged him and squeezed him and kissed him for several minutes. Kenok only looked at him sternly and went outside to tend to chores. Tagan wasn’t sure, but he thought he could hear his dad say a small prayer of thanks as he left the room.

  The visions never stopped though. Tagan tried to suppress them but they would force their way into his mind anyway. He tried to ignore them, but that just made them more intense, like something was trying to get his attention and he would see what they wanted to show him whether he liked it or not. Over time Tagan learned that the best way to deal with the visions was to access them when and where he chose to and try and gain control over them. That way he could make sure he was out of his parent’s eyesight when they occurred and he could get through them and move on. He also discovered that he could control the duration and intensity of the visions to a small degree and that made them easier to cope with. He couldn’t get over the feeling of being different though; the feeling that something was wrong with him. That, more than anything, haunted him. To feel that what he was seeing was so real, but to know that nobody else could see it made him an outcast as far as he was concerned. He didn’t want a repeat of his first experience with the healer so he kept this abnormality as his little secret.

  This time, as Tagan watched the beings go about their business, he noticed that one among them was walking towards him. This had happened before, persons had walked toward him but never with the intent that this one displayed. Past occurrences ended as close encounters as the person walking toward him would turn away at the last second or walk right by him altogether as if Tagan were invisible. This time it seemed clear that whoever was walking toward him knew that Tagan was there and wanted to engage him.
r />   Tagan looked to either side of him in the hopes that there was something there that was garnering this person’s attention but found nothing. He was uncomfortable in this other world for the first time, wishing he could go back to his world. He willed this with all his might, squirming with the strain as he tried to let go, to break the connection to the vision.

  As the male got to within about twenty feet of him, he stopped and stared right in Tagan’s direction. This had never happened before. Tagan felt nervous, like he was guilty of something. He cringed, waiting for the worst to come. The man smiled, wide and friendly, his white teeth gleaming as he opened his mouth as if to speak.

  Tagan was trembling. He didn’t know what to do, where to go. He had never ventured around this world before, preferring to stay put where he had incarnated and take it all in. Now the urge to run was screaming at him from some part of his brain. He wanted to try but he wasn’t sure if his legs would listen or not. And, where would he run even if his legs did work?

  “Tagan,” Kenok barked.

  Tagan started, like he had been splashed with ice cold water, and the vision died as if the plug had been pulled. He was back in his world once again, chugging along with Kenok in their carriage as they headed home. Tagan spun his head around and found his father’s watchful gaze now scrutinizing him.

  “Is there something wrong, boy?” Kenok’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I called your name three times.”

  Tagan felt drained and transparent like part of him was still in the other world. He was still trembling but he pushed the memory aside and tried to calm down. Several deep breaths in and out as silent as he could make them helped his racing heart slow to a near normal pulse. He couldn’t let his guard down now and allow Kenok to find out he was having the visions still.

  “Sorry, Father. I was just looking at the clouds, thinking about the rain,” he replied, managing a feeble smile. “I didn’t hear you over the noise of the carriage.”

  Kenok eyed Tagan, his already narrowed eyes crinkled even more at the corners making it seem as if he looked with enough intensity he could see what was going in Tagan’s mind. He had the feeling that there was more to the story than Tagan was letting on but decided to let it slide. It wasn’t the first time of late that Tagan’s attention had seemed to be off in another place and he made a mental note to talk to him about it when they were back home. He had larger concerns at the moment. Kenok was a farmer, like his father and his father before, going back for generations. It was all he knew. It was all he was allowed to know. He was powerfully built, with thick arms and legs, hands calloused from years of hard labor. This was the first time that Tagan had come along on one of his trips to sell the surplus harvest. Kenok’s concern was with the year’s small harvest. He had not made as much gold as in years past. After paying the taxes and road tolls he would have little left to buy other supplies needed around the house, let alone the seed he would need for the next harvest. He would need to make another trip to the black market. He tried hard to not to think about what might happen if he were to be raided before he arrived back to the city. Last he heard was that the Citadel’s law enforcers were keeping the roads safe, but that didn’t mean a few of the nastier lawmen weren’t above a little shakedown of their own. Kenok tightened his grip on the reins as these thoughts swirled like a dust storm around his brain. They were close to home now.

  The carriage rattled and creaked as it crested the hill. Kenok pulled back hard on the reins and the horses came to stop and stood patiently chomping their bits. Kenok and Tagan both scanned the road ahead as the sounds of the forest reached their ears, a pleasant change from the ruckus of the cart. In front of them the hill sloped gently into a shallow valley. Across the valley tall, jagged mountains ran along the horizon, craggy and sharp, pointing high into the sky. A waterfall issued from between two peaks, draining from an unseen alpine lake, forming a cloud of mist as it plummeted into the Jaswulder River. The waters surged from the basin and drifted through the valley, like a giant snake, flowing in long turns and curves.

  Beside the waterfall, about halfway up the mountain slope, stood the Citadel of Lozan, named after its current sitting ruler. Even in the daylight it shone brilliantly white, like a jewel set against the grey backdrop of Brankin Huoh. Roads from the Citadel ran in complex switchbacks through three separate walled defensive rings hewn from mountain rock, making the Citadel an imposing and near impenetrable fortress.

  Tagan’s eyes followed a fourth wall. This one ran for miles, surrounding the city proper of Brankin Huoh. The wall had been built over many years by prisoners under the command of the Citadel, supposedly ‘for the citizen’s protection’ but its size and breadth made it seem like the entire city was being imprisoned.

  Even from here Tagan and Kenok could see the city was alive with activity. People moved in steady streams through the streets To Tagan and Kenok it looked like a beehive, mad with activity.

  Kenok shifted on the carriage’s bench, snapped the reins and readied himself for the final hurdle necessary whenever one was returning to Brankin Huoh. The horses resumed pulling, the carriage lurched forward and they eased down the hill and trundled along the road.

  Tagan savored the sights and smells as they rolled through farm country. He wished they could go straight home but he knew they had to enter the city and pick up more supplies. Of course there was also the issue of expected taxes to be paid on their sale. If they went to the city first they could avoid the extra fines and likely jail time for not paying punctually. His dad was quiet and focused as they approached the gate to the city. Tagan knew this was a difficult part of the trip and left his dad alone with his thoughts.

  The guardhouse door opened as they approached the gates to the city and a large man emerged and swaggered toward them, hailing them with an arm in air. A second man, smaller and more businesslike, trailed behind the first.

  Kenok groaned and rolled his eyes once he noticed who it was. Will my luck change any time soon?

  “Stop it there, Kenok.” Yeldan walked toward them, stiff and rigid. It was if there was a board down the back of his uniform. He looked over the carriage with the scrutiny of a jeweler, eyeing Kenok, Tagan, the horses and everything else he could set his cruel eyes on from beneath the brim of his hat. His official lawman garb, which consisted of a red tunic with a large black L on the front, stretched tightly over his muscled body. Pants were tucked into knee-high leather boots, held up by a belt, on which his sword hung.

  “Where are you coming from?” Yeldan knew full well where Kenok had been. It was Yeldan who had inspected Kenok’s carriage when they left the city several days ago, making sure to inventory every item on board, right down to the clothes Kenok and Tagan had been wearing.

  “I was selling surplus wheat at Sliryal Bend.” Kenok made sure to keep his voice as even as possible. The lawmen were professional for the most part but some of them, like Yeldan, looked for any excuse to step outside the established rules. He would jump on anything; a muscle twitch or a voice fluctuation would lead to extra hassle, which really meant extra money going to the Citadel in the form of taxation.

  “Hmmmm.” Yeldan scowled at Kenok, one eyebrow raised, waiting. “Then you have your taxes ready?”

  “I have the fifty percent that Lozan demands.” Kenok handed over a jingling bag.

  Yeldan took the bag, weighing it momentarily in his hand as if his arm was able to measure the amount of coins within, and then handed it to his backup to take to the guardhouse and add to the rest of the taxes collected that day.

  “I noticed your wheel is gouging up the road a bit there Kenok.” Yeldan’s voice was had risen a bit and a small smile played at the corners of his mouth as he gestured at the unblemished cobblestone road behind the carriage. “You know that type of thing isn’t tolerated in Brankin Huoh. We have an image to maintain, you know. Can’t have your cheap carriage wheels chewing up the road now, can we?”

  Kenok knew where this was going and
already had a second smaller bag of gold and silver coins ready at his side.

  “I didn’t notice Yeldan. I apologize for the transgression.” Kenok leaned out of the carriage and looked back over the road like he was assessing what Yeldan was referring to and offered the second bag. He made sure to keep his hand closed firmly around it so that nobody else could see. Not that any of the other guards watching were above taking bribes. It was so that Yeldan wouldn’t have to share the wealth with anybody else. That would make Yeldan very unhappy and he would be absolutely ruthless to deal with next time.

  Yeldan leaned in closer, like he was trying to listen to what Kenok was saying, then took the bag and slid it into his waist belt without inspection.

  “Okay then, try and have those wheels fixed up or it’s jail next time.” Yeldan stepped back from the carriage. “Let them through,” he bellowed at the guard house.

  The gates slowly swung apart revealing the city proper. Kenok snapped the reins and the horses marched in. Tagan looked back at Yeldan to see him staring as the carriage passed, his eyes hard and cruel. Noticing Tagan looking at him, his face slid into a wicked smile and Tagan quickly looked away.

  Chapter 7