Geth'n, arise for there is much to be done and it is to you these tasks have come.
Geth'n sat up suddenly on his cot, gasping, shocked from his sleep. He looked around his room in dismay. Jumping up, he stumbled from his bed.
He walked to a window, opened it and looked out, leaning forward to look in all directions. He saw no one. He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. There were no sounds outside his cottage.
He didn't understand. Someone called him. There was some great urgency; the voice seemed all too clear.
What was that about? Non, I had to be dreaming -- it doesn't make sense.
Now he felt uneasy, a dark foreboding crept into his thought; he shivered from the cold running through him. His clothing was drenched, but that wasn't the cause of this sudden iciness he felt. Shaking his head, hair flying, he pulled back into his room.
Lately, he often dreamed about a darkness sweeping across the land, destroying everything in its path. It was difficult for him to imagine what these dreams meant, if anything.
He had heard nothing of dark evil, or destruction to any part of the land. There were no rumors, nor tales, of any of this happening anywhere.
Only one thing. A great storm, maybe the greatest ever, had destroyed an entire fleet returning from Habeinland to Tariny, sweeping it all into the depths without a trace. No one was there to witness the sinking, but the fleet had not returned and there was no doubt the storm was more destructive than thought possible.
He and Pet'r, his lifelong friend, were attending the university in Larilla, just north of their home, Peetle.
Peetle was a quiet and sleepy village where fishermen and their families struggled to live comfortably. The boys wanted a bit more from life than this though they had labored hard for their families while growing into young men.
Pet'r, who lately seemed aimless and held a vague look in his eyes, had long wondered about the desolate wasteland north of the great mountains and, being a fisherman's son, the monstrous, storming sea on its shores.
Geth'n, a brilliant young man, was always more curious about the dark lands of the west and the stories of strange things that happened to men who wandered too closely.
He believed in the magical realms of wizardry and sorcery. He felt certain these things existed, but everyone in Peetle scoffed at him, except Pet'r.
What brought all of these variables into this world? Geth'n often wondered. Isn't there strong evidence magic is in the world? Isn't obvious this effected the dramatic changes documented in much we read?
He felt magic and mystery entwined; he thought Narhtrae a great land of the commonplace but with intrigues accepted as natural.
In his talks with Pet'r late at night, he questioned. Am I the first to notice a pattern in some of these things? Were there others who wondered too?
Now, Geth'n felt an overwhelming desire, a need to know more about these mysterious things. He realized he was pursuing something only intimated in what he had read thus far.
But often he ran across passages about a talisman purported to hold the souls of the gods buried deep within it; and of another which held demonic souls of the creatures of a darker world.
He became obsessed with knowing more about both. He couldn't erase the constant ramblings of his thoughts, especially his dreams. It began to show in his studies.
"Pet'r, I've got to do something about this. I can't sleep. I'm not able to concentrate on what I should. I can't get rid of these dreams I'm having. No, they're nightmares. Nothing makes sense." Geth'n talked earnestly to his friend one night, desperation in his tone and in his face, slapping another of the great books closed.
Pet'r looked at his friend askance, "I think you should go and discover more. And the only place I know you can do that would be Tariny -- the great university there," he said, gazing at the ceiling of the old building. "There are no guarantees you'll find the answers, but you've exhausted these." He laid his hand on one of the ancient volumes on the table.
"Pet'r, you're right. Would you consider going with me? You have an interest too," Geth'n asked, not actually expecting Pet'r to agree. "Maybe it's asking too much of our friendship, but I really need you to go with me if I'm to do this."
"Geth'n, you're like my brother. And you've not been very agreeable lately. You just seem anxious about everything I'd assumed your search has something to do with that. But,I have to admit feeling a longing to go somewhere, just for the adventure. If for no other reason than discovering great fun, let's take a sabbatical and go in search of your lost secrets," Pet'r answered slowly, looking off toward the ceiling of the library again, "You're right; we two fishermen need to swim upstream for a while and experience more than can be found here."
"What? Are you agreeing with me?" Geth'n questioned in amazement. "Aren't you concerned about losing our chance to get what we've always worked for?" Geth'n, remembering how often Pet'r was the calming factor whenever they talked about their future, was surprised by the answer.
Pet'r shrugged his shoulders and grinned at his friend. "No, not really,"
Pet'r looked directly at Geth'n now. "We've worked hard. We know what we must discover. Possibly I'm not as troubled as you are by my quest, but I believe there might be some force beyond us, beyond you particularly, causing our anxiety.”
“I believe some of this magic you talk about so much is becoming a part of us -- what we are and will be." He sat up and stretched his arms above his head. "Besides, we can always come back and finish this."
Geth'n had wanted to broach the subject for some time now, but he hesitated to do so. He knew he was going to pursue this dream, this nightmare, to find some answers but he hadn't expected his friend to relent so easily. Geth'n would've never insisted. Pet'r couldn't have given him a greater gift.
"Ah well, what is a better teacher than real life?" Pet'r laughed. "You know, my father always says that whenever he's questioning me about why I had to come to Larilla to school. I can imagine what he's going to say about this grand idea."
They both laughed aloud. A number of the others in the library turned to look at them with frowns of disapproval. One hissed at them and only caused them to laugh louder.
"I believe we must do this, my friend," Geth'n said softly to Pet'r. "It is time we embarked on a real adventure, as you said, and see what the world holds for us and determine if our world is in some sort of danger."
"Then let's get some rest," Pet'r said calmly. "I believe an adventure does indeed await us and we shouldn't be too tired." They laughed again.
Geth'n closed the great book in front of him slowly, placed his hand gently on the old cover, smiled and turned away.
Leaving the library, they went home, occasionally bursting into laughter again as they strolled along. They weren't in any hurry now.
Later that night, as he lay in the dark thinking about their journey, Geth'n felt a certain sense of relief. He still couldn't quite understand the strength of resolve he had in this quest.
The sad thing, and this troubled him, was there might not be any answers anywhere to the puzzles he had discovered in the ancient books of the small library in Larilla.
There was no direct answers about an object called the Ahar'n, only implications and a name for it. Geth'n had not discussed this part of his search with his friend; he didn't know why but there seemed to be something making him hold back that part of what he sensed.
He couldn't explain this concentration on one element because he didn't understand why he was driven to do so.
He arrived at home and, being so intensely immersed in thought, went straight to his sleeping quarters and lay down to think. But he could feel himself drifting away as soon as he lay down.
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He is standing, looking out over a broad plain, mountains jut starkly from the earth beyond. The ground is shrouded with a gray blanket of snow, or dust. He can't tell which.
Here and there a sickly tree begs, branches outstretched
toward the sky, a plea for life. There is thick, but shapeless, cover over the sky, moving slowly, slipping silently through the mountain peaks; there is an odd sameness in everything he can see.
Above him, the clouds, barely discernible in light shades of gray, flow gently but swiftly above him. There are no colors, he realizes. Everything is shaded in white, gray and black.
He begins to walk sluggishly toward the mountains he can see, in the distance where two ranges meet with a pass between. He feels he needs to reach the pass to escape. But, he can't tell whether he is moving or not.
He can see trees creeping, strangely, away from him. If he turns toward any of the small patches near him, they seem to move obliquely from him as though avoiding him.
The skies never change though they shift so the clouds are always flowing toward him.
He trudges on at a slow pace, not able to walk any faster. Looking through the mists flowing around him, he notices a small black patch breaking the surface ahead. He turns toward it and the whole scene spins in the opposite direction as though pivoting with his movement.
He stops and slowly moves his body back and forth, then stops when he feels he has the patch just ahead of him. He continues walking, trying to maintain a straight line.
As he nears the patch, he realizes there is a hole in the blanket and walks to it. Stopping, he looks down and notes someone, or something, has fallen from above, striking the ground and breaking through into a strange space below. The texture of the void in the opening is fluid, like the sky, and seems to always be flowing.
The ragged edge of the opening shows the impact and he decides the object was, in fact, human, but he sees no other sign of what it might be. Suddenly a face appears and an arm reaches toward the surface from below. The apparition floats away but returns again. He can't see who it is though he senses he should know.
He wants to help. He looks around him slowly. Every direction he turns he causes the landscape to spin about him in the opposite direction; it is dizzying to move. He can see no trace anyone has passed through the land; he sees no trace he has either.
That last bit of information puzzles him.
Turning back, he is surprised by the presence of Pet'r. He wasn't there a moment ago. Pet'r is standing without moving, looking into the gap in the surface.
Then Geth'n notices a young woman standing a short distance away. She is holding her hand out to him; her face implores him to see her, but she doesn't come nearer.
"Welcome, young Geth'n. Is this not a beautiful place?" A voice speaks softly; a sinister, but mellow, voice which seems to come from everywhere. "Do you not think so -- and this could be Aerolan, could it not? Ah, beautiful Aerolan." Strong, deep laughter rumbles across the empty land; it seems to flow over him but passes on. He almost falls forward into the abyss below the hole but rights himself somehow.
Standing and staring at the opening, he decides he must help, bends slowly and reaches his hand toward the broken surface. His hand disappears as he pushes it into the liquid to his wrist. The image from the other side reaches for his hand, but can't touch it.
Suddenly and mysteriously, there is a touch. A shudder passes through his body and he jerks his hand back quickly, looking at it and frowning.
There was no harm done, but his hand looks strangely different than it had; it seems withered or weakened somehow. He looks around again at the featureless terrain; he notices his companions have disappeared. He dizzily looks around in all directions but the others have truly gone.
Standing slowly upright, he looks for something else to put into the liquid. Not far from him lays a branch from one of the trees; he turns -- this time with his eyes closed – opens them, walks to and picks up the limb, closes his eyes, turns, reopens his eyes and walks back to the hole.
The image in the opening occasionally becomes more visible and then fades, as though the person below is leaping to reach the hole.
He begins to lower the branch into the hole slowly. The image disappears, as does the end of the branch. Nothing is happening.
Why doesn't the person take the branch? How did anybody else get here? Did he or she fall from the sky? What is the meaning here? I should be able to . . .
The branch suddenly is pulled violently into the fluid. He can't release it quickly enough. He feels himself being dragged toward the opening, yet he can't let go. He sees his hands, grasping the branch firmly, meet the surface and disappear. All his movement, his falling, his mouth opening to cry out seem extended in time. He wants to reach out and stop his fall, but he can't.
His face approaches the surface. As he reaches it, he tries to crane his head backward to avoid the entrance, but he feels himself plunging through and beyond . . .
---------------------------
Geth'n, screaming, slammed to the floor of his bedroom; he was falling in his dream. He quickly jumped up but stumbled backward and sat heavily to the floor.
Scrambling up again, he turned quickly to look around his room. He couldn't believe it; he was safe, but exhausted. He stumbled to his bed and fell across it, staring at the floor.
His hand hurt; he looked at it and something seemed wrong. He flexed it and it seemed to work correctly. He tried to pick up one of the books lying beside his bed, and it slid through his fingers. His hand was weaker. He looked at it again, turning it slowly and shook his head.
Why am I dreaming about such horrible things?
He rolled on his back, his eyes darting about the room looking for something wrong, something to explain what he had just experienced. It surely was a dream, an incredible nightmare.
But what about my hand? What is happening to me?
He sat up and stood beside the bed, turned and walked to the window. Darkness had fallen again. He was asleep all day -- and nothing was readied for the journey tomorrow.
I'll probably not get any more sleep tonight either. I leave tomorrow and I'm not ready. I'm not certain I can get ready.
He lay down again, rolling onto his back. A feeling of dread flowed over him, yet he also felt a need for haste. At this moment, he had his first doubts about his decision. He wasn't certain what he was doing, or what he needed to do. Something in the dream was a message.
From whom? Why?
Suddenly agitated, he began to rush around his room collecting his clothing and other gear. Tonight, I'll just refuse to sleep and dream again. I have to be ready by morning.
The night wore on. Geth'n placed everything in his pack, then removed it all. He chose some other items, discarded some and repacked. He would sit for a moment then redo everything. But as he worked, he pondered the wonder of his dream and decided there was a message.
A message of doom he felt he could not ignore.
Maybe it is destined for me to take this journey, maybe it should be.
He felt comforted by the admission. He calmed himself and packed the final time, certain he had chosen the correct items. Each item was uniquely what he felt he needed.
By dawn he had changed, Geth'n was in no great rush to depart nor was he concerned about his dreams; his journey was beginning at last.
He felt his mission was a good one, or certainly, the right one. He felt tired, but much calmer now. He had made his decision.
He knew he had justified this journey with vague explanations before last night. His friends, and particularly his parents, expressed their concerns with worried glances at him, but he knew now he had to go.
The dreams made that need real.
He also knew his life, and the answers to what he would do with it, lay ahead, not here in Peetle or in Larilla. He couldn't answer what the journey would bring, only that it had to be taken.
He and Pet'r left in the early afternoon and, though they were not aware, an old peddler watched as the two boys walked away from the village and disappeared over the first rise.
The old man then turned away and climbed slowly into his cart, flipped the reins at his oxen, and began to travel s
lowly toward Peetle. He looked over his shoulder in the direction the boys had taken.
"You shall rue the day you left this simple land, young Geth'n. You shall rue the day," he chuckled to himself, his eyes glowing momentarily.
He turned, flicked the reins again and rode away slowly, the cart swinging from side to side on the rough road, pots and pans clanking.
REBUFF