The Departing – Chapter 10

*Scene 01* 2:42 (Storm Chaser)

The watcher had followed the women from a distance, observing them when they left the road and moved along the stream bed to an area of small hills.  As the storm crested the brow of the rise leading to the sea cliffs, he lost sight of them. From the appearance of the darkening clouds, and air turbulence, he knew the storm would soon be upon them.  The tall grasses along the small valley swirled and undulated like running waves, mimicking the real ones beyond the distant cliffs. The trees swayed and rocked, hissing and groaning against the harassment of the strengthening winds. Leaves unwound from the crowns of the treetops and streamed in a hurly-burly dervish dance, freckling the darkening sky. It was good they had the sense to seek shelter in the hills, he thought, as he turned his horse away from his distant trailing of them. The Storm Hawk had advised him to follow unseen, but not follow them into the inclement weather. It made sense that he too should seek someplace to ride out the coming storm. He might have turned back much earlier, had he not seen signs that some other party was converging on their location as well. He had his suspicions of what it might be, but the other party was cleverly keeping to only furtive movements, staying out of sight, and keeping low to the ground. For the past month or so, he and the other Lehi horsemen had been on high alert.  Their leader was right to be wary of anyone traveling to or coming from the eastern sea. They had suspended their night raids, as the Son of Xarm’s reach began to show more of a presence in the outer lands. The Xarmnian patrols had widened their tribute range to the seafront communities, and the rumor was they were looking for several fugitives. Offering rewards for any information leading to the apprehension of anyone attempting to barter with the collateral of a very large, mysterious pearl. Whoever it was that the Xarmnians were looking for, they deemed them such a threat that they had committed over two dozen soldiers to the search. They had extracted their planted spy from Xarm’s capital city. Had barely evaded a troop of Xarmnian field soldiers stationed outside the walls of the stone city, a half day’s ride from the outer communities. Something was happening to cause them to rouse their armies and stand alert.

*Scene 02* 7:55 (Vines)

Christie felt panic grasping to seize her mind and inject its fearful fangs. Every muscle in her legs and arms were tense and ready to run. But she held her ground. She had to know that what she was seeing was real. She pressed forward, working her way past the edge of the grotto towards the hillside cabin, closer to the frenzied tentacles waving and writhing in the wind. With each step, she grew slightly more emboldened. More certain that the twisting and turning was due solely to the gusting wind and not borne of muscular contraction and constriction. A few steps more and, at last, she knew what these flagellating things were. Vines. More specifically, the vines that had covered the front of the cabin and barred entry into its doorway. Perhaps the man had returned, she thought, but she knew she had to be sure. The lattice of twisted vines was rugged and had grown for many years.  Even winds such as these would not have easily unraveled such a twisted tangled mat. No, these would have been cut and would have occurred shortly after she and Laura had moved into the cruck house stable. Christie hesitated before crossing in front of the doorway.  It would not do for him to discover her lurking about in the storm and getting tangled upon his doorstep. And what if whoever cut the vine wasn’t the same person, they saw the other night? That was a strong possibility. If the man they’d witnessed inside only a few days before, knew a way to get in and out of the cabin avoiding the vine-covered threshold, why would he have thought it necessary to clear the outside doorway of the overgrowth before the storm? Surely such extensive growth could not have occurred in only a few days. No.  This clearing may have been done by someone else unfamiliar with the hidden ways into this bunker.  But who? She had to find out.  If she could get to the small window on the far end, she could at least see the glow of a fire in the hearth or of a candle upon the dusty panes. But first, she had to get past those waving vines. The streaming vines curled and whipped in the scouring winds, lashing out like entangled vipers, struggling to get free of their rooting to the hillside bungalow.  Christie moved tentatively forward trying hard to duck and dodge their twisting reach, but could find no clear way through without risking entanglement. Rain hissed and splashed, muddying the ground, and wild grasses. Lightning strobed through the thunderheads, causing the ground to pale and blur with water-washed brushstrokes. The powerful winds buffeted and pummeled her, popping her loose clothing. The gnarled net of vines twisted and flapped, its once cohesive blanket-weave sheared away from the door frame, the entangled mass rapidly fraying. Barbed limbs like blindly grasping tentacles swirled and writhed about her. The animated tangle was unraveling, combed out by the howling winds sweeping through the valley.  It was almost as if some hybrid sea and land creature had emerged bodily from the pages of some Lovercraftian nightmare in pursuit of her as she slogged forward. Wet sand grit, borne along by the gusts, scoured and spit at Christie, pushing against her body, threatening to drive her into the thorny embrace of the living nest peeling off the face of the house. She drunkenly brandished the dagger that she’d received as a parting gift of the Troll she subdued, parrying and slashing at the vines as they whipped about seizing at her arms and legs. Fighting her way through the living nest of vines, she cut loose the gnarled tendrils wrapping her arms, catching her legs, threatening to trip her up. Each severed limb she cleaved flew away writhing and twisting up into the ever-darkening sky. Thunder rumbled and rolled, bounding audibly across the echo chamber of the valley. She thought she could even hear the sound of swelling and heaving waves crashing along the rocky edges of the seashore beyond the edge of the hills ahead. But the furious cacophony was confused and erratic. She needed to get to the window. Someone was definitely inside the bungalow. These vines had been cut by someone and she could make out a faint glow peeking around the corner of the domicile, coming from either a lit candle or a small fire coaxed back into the fireplace. She did not know who the occupant might be, but if there was a chance of getting her and Laura some help and a better drier place to wait out the storm, she would need to make contact. But not without at first knowing who or what she might be dealing with. She had to, at least, catch sight of them, before committing herself to that decision. Finally freeing herself from the last of the vines she stepped into the clear. The bungalow appeared sun-bleached like a weathered bone under the overhead flash of the lightning, her dark sodden form casting weird curved shadows on its wall. She moved in quickly rounding the corner, yet ducking down, careful not to silhouette herself against the window. She knew there was a good chance that whoever was inside could well be peering out of this sole portal, curiously observing the storm. Maybe this was not such a good idea, she thought, breathing heavily, but she could not risk just knocking and introducing herself to this stranger without looking first. With a ragged breath, she moved just below the window and counted to three. She slowly turned to face the glowing pane and peeked into the corner pane for a brief few seconds. The sight made her feel even colder and more fearful than she already was. She stifled a scream, clamping her hand over her mouth, dropping immediately out of sight. Had they heard her?  Or even worse had they seen her? Her heart rate thundered over the storm. There would be no help from the occupants inside. Only more grave danger. She had to get back to Laura and the horses and fast. But she needed to go around the back of the hill. She could not risk passing in front of the doorway again. She started to peek around the front, just to get a sight of the flailing vines, to see if… Suddenly, she noticed the faint pale glow, outlining the edge of the corner. One of the occupants had opened the front door of the bungalow. They were coming outside into the storm. Were probably peering out at her, just below the sole window.

*Scene 03* 31:00 (Puzzles and Parts )

There was something I was missing.  Something that did not fit with what I expected I had been called back to The Stone for.  In the brief quiet, I turned back. I studied the glowing text which pulsed with energy and appeared to float into and out of the surface of Marker Stone in three-dimensional waves of letters and light. There was one part of the Eastward facing surface of The Marker that did change with each quest. I had mentioned it before. The lower passage.  The personal passage. Each time the words appeared there, they had revealed a clue to a mystery of which of the virtue stones those called from the Surface World were meant to find and carry. The passage was comforting, and a warmth surrounded me as I reread the mysterious inscription.  It was almost as if I could hear and sense the deep voice whispering those words to me in my ears as I read them.

Do not abandon Hope.  When the time is right, and Evil has had its season, the Truth of these words will be made manifest and will come to you to bring you Salvation from the wicked oppressors and powers unseen that rule and reign over these lands.  As it is written: Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. For by it the men of old gained approval. By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things which are visible. [Hebrews 11:1-3 NASB] Keep the Faith.  Though the darkness is deep, the morning is coming.

The stolen stone was my burden.  My penance.  My duty to help make right.  But the text did not make sense to me.  This text pointed to the Third Stone.  The Fidelis Stone.  Also known as The Faith Stone. “Do not abandon Hope.”  The Hope Stone was already committed to The Crown.  The First Stone Quest was completed far before I was even born.  The first stone’s placement was committed. “When the time is right.”  Seven year cycle.  Seven year multiple.  Seven being the number of the ordained days of the week. Seven being the number of The Divine.  Yet two cycles had passed in the intervening years, and our arrival converged with the third cycle of seven.  Three intervals.  Three being the number of the nature of God in His Oneness.  Three to reveal and possible fool those evil counterforces of this Mid-World into believing that the ages of the Stone Quests were ended. “Evil has had its season.” An allusion to the darkness of the intervening days that Begglar has revealed to me since I left here.  The violence and the treachery of… No. I could not exclude myself from it. My treachery and my shame lie in connection with the Stone of the Second Quest: The Cordis Stone or the Heart Stone. My being called back to the Mid-World only made sense to me if I was sent back to retrieve the Cordis Stone. I could not see beyond the obstacle of my guilt in connection to it.  The virtue stones must be placed in the crown in order.  The Hope Stone revealed the location of where the Fire Beast had taken the crown into the crag in the Wall of Stone.  The sleeping smoke of the Beasts exhalations could not obscure its blue shine for anyone looking to the far northern hills for it. The three verses in the Ancient Text came to mind.  The first two were from The King’s Vision, the Songs of the Climb.  The stairway songs given to King David as he pursued the mind of The One who sheparded him into his place as ruler over ancient Israel.

[[A Song of degrees.]] I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. [Psalm 121:1 KJV]

Hills of a great stone obstacle that must be ascended.  An impediment that must be surmounted.  An ascent that must be made with the help of the maker of heaven and earth so that our footing will be sure and firm in our climb.  With the commitment to the Stone Quests came not only the naming inscriptions upon the Marker Stone, but also the ability to be able to see the Praesporous Stone’s gleaming in the far horizon ahead.  Eyes to see.

[[A Song of degrees.]] Unto thee lift I up mine eyes, O thou that dwellest in the heavens. [Psalm 123:1 KJV]

The second verses pointed to the one who we serve and must follow, not just as those escaping the fires of judgment and the wrath to come, but as coming to know The One as Master and Lord.  This could only be gained by the journey ahead, as we walked and listened to direction.  To witness His guidance preserving us in the midst of danger.  To know and recognize the sound of our Shepherd’s voice as we navigate the paths of wolves and lions.  Ears to hear. Our journey was only beginning.  We could not see or hear beyond this point.  It was the reason why we each only saw The Marker Stone in its present form, but did not realize that there was a reality to it for which we were still not given the vision to see and experience fully.  I could feel this truth.  Sense it somehow, but I could not yet see it.  I had to renew my commitment to this new calling.  To surrender to it. The third came from Ezekial’s vision and transportation into The Mid-World, the place between The Surface World and Excavatia.  The metaphysical land upon which we now stood, a soul arrested between earth and the realization that a foretaste of that Heavenly realm could be touched while still drawing breath.

Then said he unto me, Son of man, lift up thine eyes now the way toward the north. So I lifted up mine eyes the way toward the north, and behold northward at the gate of the altar this image of jealousy in the entry. [Ezekiel 8:5 KJV]

Jealousy.  Pride of being.  Covetousness.  The nature of the slumbering Beast that had been its downfall and the very reason it could not soar over the Walls of Stone and forever steal the Crown of Dominion that had once been granted to the first man to walk upon The Surface World. And the last passage clearly was not to find the Heart.  Jeremiah, our leader in the prior quest had been given this personal verse:

A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh. [Ezekiel 36:26 KJV]

It is what led him to expect to find The Cordis Stone. “Love never fails,” I muttered to myself in a whisper, still unable to reconcile that with the painful reality that The Cordis Stone had not worked to subdue The Pan.  Caleb and I were so sure of it.  So certain of the “rightness” of our secret mission that we had no thought of it ever failing. That I was now being directed to find The Fidelis Stone made no sense to me unless the Cordis Stone had already been found and returned to the Crown. The Marker Stone was never wrong and held mysteries beyond anything I could fathom. Perhaps, Jeremiah had returned it.  Had, somehow, managed to retrieve it from The Pan, and had completed the Second Quest without me.  That was possible, though I did not sense that it was so.  A part of me knew that I could not move forward with those brought here with me and expect them to trust me without first admitting to my part in what had happened. Still, even if the Cordis Stone was restored to its honored place, there was no escaping what I must do.  I had to tell them all the truth. “Brian, it is time,” Begglar said quietly, reconnecting me back to the moment. “Yes!” I said, rather too harshly, and then softened my tone, “Of course. You are right.” “Where do I begin?” I said looking above to the illumined ceiling, to a small beam of light shining through a crevice somewhere up above.  To a place where one of The Stone’s seven engraved eyes looked outward to the east.  To the eastern sea and beyond it through the coils of time into The Surface World–the place where the golden light of this stone was most needed. “You all need to know what I did when I was last in the Mid-World.  My betrayal.”  I closed my eyes for a moment, then continued, “Knowing this will bring you to a crossroads in our journey together. You’ll have a decision to make. Whether to continue on with me or to return back to the Surface World and try to forget what has happened here.” “Why would you tell us this now?” “Because I cannot follow a call to lead you, while holding to deception to gain your trust.  I cannot hear what needs to be heard, if I don’t first tell what needs to be told.” One of the adult men, about my age or a little older said, “Nine dead?  That doesn’t leave us with much confidence in you, I if may say so.” “You may and how very well I know that.  But this quest is not something I came up with.  It is older than you can imagine.  A journey inscribed upon all of creation before the beginning of time.  It is a dangerous quest, but it didn’t have to be.  We all are partly to blame for that, but I digress.  You need to hear my story, before you decide.  As I said, this is the place for confession.” “Okay,” the man seated himself, folding his arms.  “We’re listening.” The others took their seats around me and Begglar hunched down, allowing the golden light to shine again upon the skulls in the wall. “There is a creature here that was once a man the same as I.  He is called ‘The Pan’, and if you are ever unfortunate enough to see it, you will understand more of the Greek myths than even the Greeks and Romans of our world did.  But, there is also a man that lives within these lands that you would have to meet to believe, but for now let’s just refer to him by his title.  He is called ‘The Walker’ for reasons I cannot get into at the moment.  When and if you meet him in this world, that title will be made clear.” “What does this Mister ‘Walker’ have to do with your story?” one asked. “Not mister Walker, ‘The Walker’,” I corrected. “So he speed walks. What’s the big deal?” another joked. “No.  This man is a man living outside of time itself.  A man who is ancient, yet shows not signs of age and still looks to be in the prime of his life.  He is older than any of the creatures here, except for…” I trailed off, not ready to bring the others I was thinking of into the discussion. “What did you do to him?” “Nothing. I…” “Tell them about Caleb,” Begglar came to my rescue. “Caleb,” I sighed, “Caleb was the younger brother of the leader of our quest.  He was also my friend.  Jeremiah had asked me to look after him, because Caleb was prone to getting into trouble.  He was a spirited fellow.  Reminded me of the brother I lost in my own life.  The very spitting image of him, as a matter of fact.” “Who is Jeremiah?” someone asked. “Jeremiah was the one called to be our leader.  He was fulfilling the role that I am called to now with you all.” Begglar opened his folded arm, palm facing upward in a slight sweeping motion, indicating that I should ‘get on with it.’ I nodded, taking the cue, “Caleb and I are the reason the quest to find and bring the Cordis Stone to the Crown failed.  Some of these buried bones are all that remain of the people I served with.  Their bones lie here because of what we did.  Their blood and their death might as well be on my hands as much as it is on the Xarmnians who butchered them.” The room was silent.  The eyes and faces of the listeners looked nervously from one to the other, but not a word was said.  Begglar watched me with re-folded arms, his expression solemn.  He knew how I felt–what secrets I carried–for we had spoken many times of it before I left the Mid-World, and he had decided to stay on. I took in a deeper breath and lifted my face to the others and began. “Caleb and Jeremiah had been having a running argument.  Caleb thought Jeremiah was being overly cautious in his approach to bearing The Cordis Stone.  Caleb wanted to use the Stone to charge into the darkness and fight the monsters and brutal dictators that were oppressing these lands, but Jeremiah wouldn’t hear of it.  Jeremiah kept The Cordis Stone with him at all times, wrapped in a cloak and tucked away in his pack.  He rarely took it out and became annoyed with us anytime we asked again to see it, to renew our faith in it.  Jeremiah was distrusting of us, and was especially annoyed by his brother’s boisterous enthusiam, which he felt was reckless.” I cleared my throat, and continued, “Well, one night in the northern country, we were bivouacked just outside of this forest area near the lake of Cascale.  We had been running a ship up the fjord and carrying supplies to the Resistance forces that were standing against the Xarmnian field troops.  The nearby forest was dark and creepy.  Not just gnarled and overgrown, but had the feel of death about it.  It was dense and ancient.  The trees were tall and thick, but blackened with fungi and spores.  Caleb had gone missing that afternoon and we were unsettled by his absence.  Jeremiah and some of the others had gone out to look for him, while we readied the gear and hunted for meat to continue our journey.” “So how did you betray them?” “I’m getting to that,” I assured the questioner.  “Well, I went to go retrieve a blade from the storebox near Jeremiah’s tent and was surprised to see Caleb there, beckoning me to come into the tent quietly and not alert anyone else.” “I went in and found Caleb had been rummaging through Jeremiah’s pack, and had found something and looked very pleased about his find.” “What’re you doing, I asked him, and he grinned and pulled a cloth back from covering what he’d been hiding.  ‘I’ve found it, and have located where ‘The Pan’ goes at night,…alone.” “What do you mean? We’ve been looking for you all afternoon.  Your brother is worried sick.  They think you went into that forest!” “I did!  And I found them.  The lair of The Pan and the places where he and the others reside.  It’s an old stone temple or something like it.  I have never seen anything quite like it before.  But there is a particular place within that The Pan goes to gaze into some mysterious pools.  It should be like a kind of garden, but it is creepy inside.  The trees seem dead, but some how they are not.  Their roots are tangled and run into these pools.  I don’t know what The Pan is looking for in them, but he seems to be talking to them or to something within them.  I don’t really know.  It is really weird.  I don’t hear anything coming from them, but the lapping of the water.  But The Pan kneels down by them and put’s his face down into the water.  I first thought he was drinking it, but I don’t hear him lapping it.  It is like he is looking deep into the water and seeing something only he can see.” “We saw him before.  He is blind. How can he be seeing anything?” “I don’t know, but he seems to be.  He moves to different sides of the pools, and his head turns constantly focused on the water.  It is almost as if he is some kind of trance or something.  He shows no awareness of anything outside of those pools when he is like that.” “So what are you proposing?  I asked him.  And he got real excited, and lifted up what he had found in Jeremiah’s sack.  To use this to bring him down in his own courtyard, and he held out The Cordis Stone to me.” “Oh no! No, no, no!  Jeremiah will never go for that.  I raised my hands in protest, but Caleb grabbed them and said, ‘Jeremiah doesn’t have to know.'” “‘What you mean lie to him?!  No.  Nothing like that. We will surprise him.  Just you and me.  Moving in faith to confront the enemy.  We can take him down with this!’  Again he held up The Cordis Stone to my eyes, and its red glow seemed to pulse within the stone.  Seeing doubt and uncertainty, Caleb continued, “This is The Cordis Stone.  The Heart Stone. The Love Stone.  Remember that verse in the Ancient Text that says, ‘Love never fails.’  Dontcha see?  He said, elated.  ‘We cannot fail, if we have this!’  Still I hesistated.  ‘I don’t know.’ and Caleb knuckled my forehead, saying, ‘O ye of little faith!’  C’mon.  Trust in The Stone.  It has never failed us before.  All we need is Love.  I countered, ‘That’s The Beatles, not scripture.’ To which he replied, ‘You want scripture?  Alright, I’ll give you scripture.  Remember 1 Samuel, chapter 14.  What Jonathan and his armor bearer did?  They alone attacked a garrison of Philistines, just they two alone and Jonathan did not ask permission from his father to do it.  They just went and The One protected them.  They had to climb up a rock chimney to get to it.  You and I only need to go secretly into a forest and wait for our opportunity.  We will defeat him.  You will see.  Have a little faith.” “What did you do?” “Well, it was hard to argue with his reasoning.  He seemed so sure of it.  I didn’t know how to counter what he was saying.  Perhaps, I thought my hesistancy was just my lack of faith, and I had to put the feelings that this was wrong aside and just go.  I then gave in and said, ‘What can I say?  You seem to have this all figured out.’  And he said, ‘Say what the armor bearer said to Jonathan. ‘Do what is in your heart.  You choose.  I’m right here with you whatever you decide.’  And so we did.  We followed Caleb’s heart.  We acted in what we believed was faith.  We were certain the plan could not fail.” “But it did,” Begglar said, rubbing his chin. “It did.  Caleb was taken and killed.  I managed to escape barely.  The Pan promised to hunt and kill everyone I cared about.  It was a reasoned plan and we thought we were doing what was right, but it ended in disaster. and I still am not fully certain why.  Only that in deceiving Jeremiah, we did something out from under authority.  I betrayed Jeremiah, and by failing to do things under authority I also failed everyone else in our company.  I did not stand firm or keep my word to keep Caleb out of mischief, and now Caleb is dead.  And The Pan has The Cordis Stone.  A stone that must be taken back from him and carried up into the far mountains, past the sleeping Beast and put back into The Crown where it belongs.  Only then can the final Stone Quest continue.” “How did the other eight die?” someone asked. Begglar interjected, “O’Brian was pursued out of that forest, by satyrs.  They came upon us by surprise.  Delane and Finian fell that night defending us.” “That accounts for three.” I interjected, “I only knew of the deaths of seven.  Begglar says there were nine.  That night we managed to flee to the ship anchored in the sound.  The water was ice cold.  The row boat was damaged.  Something underwater attacked it and we barely made it to the ship before the boat sank.  Our tents were ripped apart.  Much of our supplies still on the shore was lost, and taken by The Pan and his creatures of Half-Men.  He taunted us from the shoreline, raising The Cordis Stone in his monstrous hand and bellowing threats and laughter.  Beams of red light flashed out of it and came across the water, as we hastily set sail and weighed anchor.  The beams of light fell upon four of our company.  Men and women I had become close to in our journey.  Those whom I would have trusted with my life.  Begglar being one of them.” Begglar nodded, “And close we came to being found out.  The Pan and his company followed us along the shoreline as we set sail.  They were fast, those ones.  Went as far as they could, until the ground rose and made it too hard to keep us in sight.  All along the sound and across the water, we could hear The Beastie laughing at us.  It wasn’t until we got into the wider passage that we outran his threats.  That night, when O’Brian told us what he and Caleb had done, I thought Jeremiah was going to throw him overboard.  Give him a Jonah seat to what followed.  I had never seen the man so angry.  Gave you quite a clout in the mouth, I remember.” “My lip seemed to bleed forever,” I added, “but I deserved it.  He had trusted me, and I went against my better judgment.  Jeremiah could’ve done much worse.” “He might’ve if we hadn’t been attacked later that night,” Begglar offered. “Attacked?” “By a sea monster.  Leviathan.  We thought we had lost one more than night, but later we found her.  A friend of my wife’s.  A confidant, until later on, before she went missing.  Since she was not a Surface Worlder and not officially part of The Stone Quests, I doubt The Cordis Stone has anything to do with her disappearance, but I canna be sure, so I count her among the nine.” “When Jeremiah realized what had fallen into The Pan’s hands, he suggested that we all separate and going into hiding.  It was not clear how The Pan would use it.  Until later.  The Resistance took us into hiding, but the Stone led The Pan and others to us.  Two companies were slaughtered by The Pan and his beastlings.  Tamara fell in one of those raids.  Darden in another, in the town of Surrogate.  The Resistance couldn’t risk bring us anywhere near them anymore, for the Xarmnians learned that The Pan had a way of finding us.  It was only a matter of time before they rooted us out, so I went hermit.  Built a hillside cabin in Basia.  It was so remote that I thought The Pan could never find me.  Until one day they did.  They chained me to a rock and through me into the river.” I heard a gasp from the others.  And I nodded.  The cabin I first brought you to.  That was my cabin, but it has since been so overgrown with vines, it is nearly impossible to get back into. Cheryl shook her head, “No. It’s not possible.” But I only looked at her and said quietly, “With all you’ve seen so far, surely you are not so insistent on what is impossible and what is not.  In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not in Kansas any more.” “But how…?” she began, then halted. “Parallax,”  I said simply.  “It happens sometimes.  We are no longer in our own timeline.  Because we are each taken from our own Surface World history, there is sometimes a refraction caused by that displacement.  We can see into another’s past.  Especially if something triggers our memory.  You each saw into mine.  I was the man sitting by the fire…twenty-one years ago.” I let that one sink in.  It was a tough one to grasp.  It took me a while to get the concept into my arsenal of what was possible here in The Mid-World. “So that is why you didn’t let us check on him…I mean you.  This is so confusing,” Cheryl grasp her forehead. “Yes.  I wasn’t there.  If you have actually gotten into the cabin you would have found it in bad disrepair and infested with rats and everything covered in dust.  There was no point in trying.  I knew where I had kept a key to the strongbox, and I knew we could just as easily camp in the grotto, where I kept the buried firepit.  We needed supplies and not to waste anymore time there than was necessary.  I needed to get you all here before giving any more explanations.  I needed to do what my predecessor had done.” “When we first came from the sea, Jeremiah brought me and twelve others to this place.  This site of The Marker Stone.  He was drawn here.  This is truly where all of the prophesied quests are to begin.” “So how does this work?” one asked, “We give you our names and you somehow put them on this Stone?” “Not me.  The Marker Stone does it.  It is a covenant commitment.  Once you give your names to me in trust and goof faith, you become bound to the quest.  The Stone does it’s own marking.  No tool can cut upon The Stone without shattering into fragments.  No one adds to The Stone and no one can change its messages.” “We will need to think about this first.  When do you need to know?” “I am not the one who holds time here.  You each may do as you like.  Take time to discuss it among yourselves, as needed.  Pray about it.  You must do this of your own free will.  That’s how it works.  The only thing I can say is don’t wait too long.  The longer you wait, the less you will be inclined to be part of this.  I won’t lie to you.  There are hard days ahead of us.  Dangers that will put you through the fire to reveal what you really stand for and what your true level of commitment is to anything beyond yourself.  But you cannot serve two masters.  Either what you learn here will be allowed to change you, or to harden you into what you presently are.  There is no half commitments.” “Take one last look at The Stone.  Make your decision.  And then join us outside.” At that point, I too took another long look at the golden letters, and then turned to go. As we retreated from the ominous and portentous chamber where The Marker Stone stood with it immutable inscription I knew that, for some reason, it had felt right and proper to make my open and honest confession there in the light of its mysterious glow. For what it’s worth, it does feel better to lay the cold, hard, and ugly truth down before witnesses and allow them the choice to make their own decisions with no illusions. As for me, as long as I am able and at whatever the cost may be, my choice and way are set. I have no doubt that the way ahead will be difficult.  I may lose all of them at this point, but it didn’t matter. An old hymn and its words come back to me, and I find myself humming and quietly singing those words to myself as I emerge from the dark stone and bone-filled hill into the gray dawn.

Though none go with me, I still will follow

No turning back

No turning back

Begglar was the last to leave the Hill of Skulls’ dark tunnel, blinking in the light. He looked up at me, his eyes refocusing and adjusting to the graying sky and the strange sort of pinkish twilight bathing the ground and lands around us,….and smiled.

*Scene 04* 2:36 (What She Saw)

Christie was still shaking from the memory. The window had been dusty and occluded, but she could make out forms backlit by candlelight inside. Oddly positioned shapes. Squatty figures, with more girth than brawn. One moving in the background, apparently trying to get old kindling lit into the dusty fireplace, that most likely had not held a live ember in quite a while. But how could that be? she wondered. The man they had seen just the other night sat before a roaring blaze. The room appeared much cleaner then, but this place was filthy and covered in a thick layer of dust, which stirred at each of the figures’ furtive movements. How could a few nights have made such a difference? A black form lay sprawled out on the central tabletop. And the other figure had climbed up on the table and had taken what appeared to be fireplace tongs and was… She shuddered at the thought, peeling back the eyelids of what she now recognized to be the burned corpse similar in size to its present attendants, lying prostrate on the table. The one hovering over the body throttled the charred torso. Its face was contorted and wore an exaggerated rubbery expression that might appear almost comical in another context. Its occipital brow was bulbous, thick, and furrowed with large bushy eyebrows.  Its chin and lips were fatly exaggerated. Its mouth large and wide, fish-like. Most of its face was in shadow and turned away from the wavering candlelight. But with its tugging efforts, its lips pulled back, skinning an ugly set of large crooked teeth. She’d seen a similar visage recently, and it had stunned her enough to cause her to gasp at the realization. The pudgy, but more slender of the two, turned his head in time to bark a cry and point mewlingly at the window. She’d been spotted, and she attempted to duck down quickly, but not before she saw the larger one raise his ugly face out of its shadowy silhouette and stare towards her and through her with large black pools, swirling, and vibrating where his eyes should have been.

*Scene 05* 3:05 (Delving)

Two trolls huddled under the darkened doorway of the hillside cabin. The vines swayed and fluttered in the wind, some whipping back and forth. The stockier of the two, held out a large black blade, stained and sticky with old dried blood. “Shelberd, you idiot!” the armed troll growled and cuffed the other with a hard slap to the back of his head, “I told you not to open this door! Didn’t you know the wind would snuff the candles?” “I tell you, I saw a face. Lookin’ at us. Right there in that window,” the thinner of the two said. “Mebbe you did, an’ mebbee you didn’t. An mebbee you’ll be the one to go out in all this blowin’ and find out fer shore!” The other whimpered and shrank back from the doorway, but the other caught him by the cuff and held him. “Perhaps it was a reflection,” the hampered one whimpered, suddenly not nearly as certain of what he’d seen a few moments ago. “You’re a bumbling idiot!” “Please, Grum, all this is making me sick. Do you really have to cut off his eyelids? I can’t watch any more.” “He was my brother, not yours!” “Buh-buh-but, he’s dead. He stinks of the flames…and is crawling with…” “Shut up!” the larger troll gathered the shirt jacket of the smaller one into a fist and growled, “I have to be able to see into his eyes, and with the burning, I can’t look into much. You seen ‘em. They’re swollen shut.” He lifted the bloodied knife-blade in front of his captive associate’s widening and pleading eyes, “If I’m gonna delve, I need to be able to see into what he saw last. Who it was that done this to him, so we can hunt them down and make ‘em pay. So quit distracting me, or by The Pan, I’ll carve on your face with this poke and kick your saggy bum out for the night to bleed in the rain! So what’s it gonna be? You gonna stop snivelin’ and help me, or jump at faces in the glass?” “I’ll help. I’ll help,” the smaller troll whimpered. The larger glared at him for a second more, then released his shirt, “Now pull the door! Come back inside! Flint-spark the fire again and hold the candle steady, as I tell you! I may have to dig out an eye.”

*Scene 06* 9:31 (Follow to Lead)

Outside of the cairn hill, I took in the view of the distant horizon.  Storm clouds were building in the direction of the eastern sea.  A sight made more disturbing with the realization that I had, only just this morning, let both Christie and Laura ride right into it, heading back to the beach and oculus portal still turning there. Had I done everything I could to encourage and persuade Laura to stay?  How many more must die, because of my decisions and failing leadership? Aside from Laura and Christie, only Miray seemed favorably disposed towards me.  Begglar had reason to distrust my leadership, but after what I had revealed to the others standing before The Marker Stone, I could not be certain of even that.  Perhaps Begglar would still choose to follow, but perhaps not.  He had a family to think of.  And he knew my history and failings better than anyone.  Had I convinced him that, this time, things would be different? There was something relegated to the edge of my mind that was causing me to be confused.  Something I could not pinpoint, but it was attempting to undermine every move and decision I made.  I kept getting the flashes of an image of watching eyes gleaming out of a pit of darkness, but there was something asymmetrical about them.  An imbalance that looked upon me and through me.  Something about a coloring of ice blue frost and a vacuous blackness, like that of a deep hole where there is no apparent bottom visible.  Whatever had uncoiled its grip of oppression within my mind, as I confessed my sin by The Marker below, had returned when I emerged outside bringing fresh accusation and doubt. How could I inspire confidence in anyone, when I had no confidence in me?  The only thing I knew for sure was that The One had called me back here and that His Written Words were coming to me, even as they had come to Jeremiah when he had led us. I prayed quietly, “Ah Lord God, I cannot lead these you have brought here if they have no confidence in your calling me to this.  Have I made a mistake?  Show me what to do.” As the others emerged from the tunnel, blinking into the dimming daylight, Dominick and Begglar replaced the balanced stone and closed up the hidden passage beneath the hill.  In the quiet, we all assembled around the wagon. A few in the group glared daggers of distrust at me.  Some would not meet my gaze, but others nodded encouragingly. We were still sobered by the ancient words etched on the black stone marker hidden and buried inside.  And none could deny what the impact of those words must have had on the oppressed people willing to die for the hope portended in them. Martyrs to a hopeful belief that there had to be something more than a future of subservience to power mongers, and the inexorable crush of Xarmnian rule. Pondering such things made a failed quest giving rise to those hopes seem that much more abhorrent. And having one of those persons present who were directly responsible for such failure and now purporting to lead this group in another attempt to revive that mission seemed that much more unforgivable. Begglar, Nell, and Dominick joined us and climbed up into the bed of the wagon. Begglar addressed the group, “Well now that that is done, I will be sayin’ what needs to be said after.” And here he turned to me. “O’Brian, yer a well-meaning man.  True you have done a treacherous thing in yer past.  And it be also true that others may well have paid for it with their lives.  But it would be goin’ too far to say that their deaths should be solely laid upon your account.  Ye forget that I was there too in the same company.  That there were divisions sown among us, and there were others that may have tried what you and Caleb did if they had been given the opportunity.  Jeremiah was a man given to anger.  And many’s the time we had all secretly doubted that he was the best man for the task of leading.  But I seem to remember from the Ancient Text as well that The One did not always appoint ones who had the best skills for the task.” “Both King David and Saul were murderers.  Moses too.  St. Peter was a rough fisherman who often spoke without thinkin’.  Jacob was a trickster and deceiver.  Abraham lied to a king and said his wife was his sister to save his own skin.” “But despite all the failings of these rascals, one canna deny that The One called them to their places, and used them in spite of their shortcomings.” Here he pointed at me, and then looked at those assembled. “But the one thing each of these had going for them, is that they recognized that it was not their own personalities or abilities that qualified them to be called.  It was simply their willingness to be obedient to it, and to own up to their wrongs and admit that they could not do the task without the One giving them the ability to do it.” “You have done what I and, I am sure, many others here are loathed to do.  You have made yourself vulnerable to strangers.  You have exposed your guilt and taken ownership of it, even though it may risk what you are trying to do.  You’ve given us the truth, and permitted us to make our own free decisions with the pertinent facts.” “I will be the first to admit, to you and the others here, that I would not have chosen you to be the one to pick up where the last quest left off.  You would have been the last of my choices.  But my choice does not matter in the slightest.  The One calls who He wills to call, and gives to each the appointed tasks that He sees fit.  And I’ll not be the one second-guessing His choice in the matter.” “When you left, I knew that one day you would be back.  That The One was not finished with you, and that because He chose to bring you through, and break you down, He would be the one to raise you up again and humble you to learn the power of His great love to make you into what He needed you to be.” “So I and my family are all agreed.  We are with you, O’Brian.  Even to the death, if need be. And that is all I have to say in the matter.  So what say each of you?” After another moment of silence, one of the men, turned to me and asked, “O’Brian, can you give us a moment to discuss this among ourselves privately?  I don’t think we can truly speak freely with you standing here among us.” “Certainly,” I said, “Take all the time you need.” I knew Begglar could fill them in on any of the details of what Caleb and I had done, for I had told him all of it.  Caleb had died that day to give me a chance to escape The Pan and his murderous half-creatures.  I should not have run.  I should have fought and died before letting that thing get its hands on The Cordis Stone.  I was Jeremiah’s most trusted lieutenant.  He had every right to kill me for what I had done.  A part of me still wished he had. Miray wove through the crowd. I felt a small hand find mine and looked down to see Miray, grinning up at me, her red curls appearing a bright polished copper in the golden light. “I am glad I already told you my name,” she beamed, squeezing my hand. What I would have to say next, however, might not make her as glad. “I’ll go with you, Mister O’Brian.  Let’em talk. I wasn’t sure on the beach, but I am now.  You are the one I think will help me get my memory pictures back.” “What changed your mind?” “The Stone in the Hill with the bones.  I feel it.  It has forgiven you.  And then I could see it was you.”

I could not speak. Her simple child-like assurances undid me.

I desperately need what this little girl naturally possessed in abundance: simple, powerful, trusting faith.  The faith to lay the burden of my guilt down and leave it here.  To once and for all call it canceled and forgiven. But I still could not.  I deserved to be punished and rejected.  I deserved to be buried under that hill, among the dead with my jawbone removed. Begglar looked at me and nodded, “Go on, now.  We’ll fetch you both when we’re done.” Miray and I walked away from the group, circling the mound toward the western rise.  Giving others a chance to discuss my fate and role as a leader.  They waited until they were certain we were out of hearing before they began.

*Scene 07* 2:32 (Laura Alone)

Laura peered out of the stable, fearfully flinching at each boom of thunder and each etching flash of light, splintering through the howling sky under the constant hiss of the rain. Christie had only been gone ten to twenty minutes, but already it seemed like hours. She was terrified that perhaps something had happened to her, and worse thinking, that Christie had only come here because of her. She wondered if Christie had gotten lost in the storm. They had only been here a few nights ago, barely long enough to get any bearings in daylight, much less under the darkening cover of a storm. Her respiration was increasing. She was working herself up into a panic. The horses were sensing it too. She felt if she didn’t try to calm herself then they would bolt and run out into the storm, leaving her stranded. “Where is she?!” she said between short, rapid breaths. Pieces of the stable roof had been peeled back and the boards rattled as the winds intensified. The beams rocked from side to side and Laura feared that the structure might eventually collapse on both her and the two antsy horses. Already they were becoming more difficult to control. The mare that Christie had ridden pawed and stamped at the sideboards with her hooves. She broke one of the boards in the old trough at the front of the stall, upsetting a nest of rats that lived beneath it. Laura climbed up on the gate to avoid them as they scurried and squealed under the horses’ feet. She wasn’t fond of the rodents either. The mare backed into the other horse, almost pinning Laura’s leg against the wall of the pen, but she was able to raise it out of the way just barely in time.  Turning against each other, bouncing to stamp the rats, and balking at the tight quarters they almost took out the gate, but Laura was able to get hold of the other horses’ reins and keep her from rearing and kicking it down completely. “C’mon, girl. Steady now.” Laura squinted out at the angry sky and flashing thunder and lightning. A dark form emerged from out of the wind and wet, looking haggard and weaving against the strong gusts. Laura screamed. The figure rushed towards her, moving under the staccato strobe of the lightning, as Laura reached for her own dagger, getting ready to fend the attacker off.