Jadde - The Fragile Sanctuary (8 page)

‘I think it’s a message in dance; a
greeting.’ Malkrin muttered.

Before they could stop her, Seara ran
forward. Her hands palm flat before her in a gesture of submission and greeting.

The lunatic dancer swept about her as if
she were part of a rehearsed ritual. She stood still, palms extended as he
whirled around. Malkrin noticed the dancer’s eyes never left her face. Then the
man lowered his head and crouched at her feet. It was a sign for the rest of
the tribe to leave the trees.

Halle rushed forward to wrap his arms
around his daughter, Malkrin was only a step behind him.

‘It’s all right Sire,’ Halle turned to Malkrin,
‘these ivy people are welcoming.’

Malkrin held out his hands imitating Seara’s
relaxed approach. An elderly ivy-man met him and placed hands palm down over his
and the meeting was initiated. More Ivy people poured from the trees and
gathered around the three, gibbering excitedly in an unknown tongue. Seara now had
her hands locked with a girl of about her age. The girl began to show Seara how
to perform the greeting dance.

‘It’s a dance to honour and respect strangers,’
Seara exclaimed with pleasure.

Malkrin glanced suspiciously at the trees.
No one else lurked there. He put his instinctive caution to one side; and was ushered
to sit with three of the tribe’s elders at the tree edge. Halle joined him and
they listened in bemusement to the high pitched language. They attempted to
communicate with sign talk but received shrugs in return.

‘This is laborious Sire, let me try
something.’

Malkrin’s highsense felt Halle grasp a
gossamer flow emanating from the elder’s minds. He guessed his companion was caressing
the thoughts behind the twittering birdsong words. Halle’s eyes glazed and his
mouth hung open as his gift worked as it never had before. His eyes floated
from one elder to another as if separating or assigning their different thought
patterns. The ivy-people seemed to realise the need to jabber in continued
explanation. Malkrin suddenly realised he had created another small highsense
to observe Halle.

After a quarter of an hourglass Halle
suddenly looked to Malkrin.

‘They are a nomadic people called the
Skatheln, and are journeying to higher ground to see if they can enter the shroud
of ice. An important god lives there and they desire to gain her aid. They flee
a great scourge. The images I see are monstrous, as if crushed ant hills have spilled
demon insects bent on revenge. These people come from a distant forest teaming
with creatures, the lushness of which I can hardly describe. Bulwan the elder
has asked that we lead them along a legendary crystal path into the ice to beseech
their departed god to return. She has deserted them in their time of need. I believe
they think us also gods. It’s something to do with the way we think.’

‘They’re picking up on our highsense
abilities.’

‘I’m afraid so, but I can only use my voice
to talk back . . . Hold on, I’ve an idea.’

Halle’s eyes glassed again. Malkrin waited.
The ivy people fell silent and gazed into his eyes as if sinking into them. Eventually
Halle emerged from the faraway look. He took a deep breath as if he’d
concentrated so hard he had forgotten to breathe.

‘I wondered if I could project images of
where we come from to show we are not gods. It seems to have worked, Bulwan
projects sorrow that we are human. He now appears to think us sorcerers.’

‘Let him think that, it’ll keep them in awe
of us.’ Before Halle resumed his communication Malkrin quickly added, ‘show
them our quest and why we can’t return to guide them.’

Another quarter hourglass later the ivy-people
gave Malkrin a nod of understanding. Then as one they held out their palms;
then slowly raised them to their shoulders. Not knowing how to respond Malkrin
and Halle imitated them. It was the right thing to do and Bulwan smiled. The
whole gathering relaxed with the camaraderie of fellow refugees.

 Bulwan clapped his hands and a young boy
and two girls approached from amongst the trees holding wooden bowls of broth
laced with succulent leafs. Malkrin sniffed the warm mixture; it smelt of rich
herbs. He nodded to Halle and they sipped the liquid. Malkrin raised an eyebrow
– it was good. He took another sip. Excellent, a bit like the venison and
carrot broth that was Cabryce’s favourite. It filled him with energy; he felt
he could run all day.

The boy handed Seara a bowl. She stopped
the dance to sit with her father and devour the soup.

It was the strangest meal they had ever consumed.
Halle occasionally stopped eating to update them on the messages the ivy-people
were projecting. Occasionally they broke into their twittering tongue. But it
still made little sense, so Halle continued the mental communication.

‘The enemy they fear are called the
Archegrie who have emerged from deep within their legends. They are hell-born insects
with the faces of men and the icy souls of pitiless devils.’

Halle shivered, and something of the
intensity of Bulwan’s memories filtered like a cold wind into Malkrin’s mind. The
Archgry
were something from the holy scripts. Just a
name from a past long gone, but the word still contained an inbuilt fear for
all the Seconchane.

‘Do they mean the
Alchgry
, from
Jadde’s scriptures?’

‘The coincidence is surely too great.’

‘We must think more on this later. Continue
with him and find out more.’    

Halle nodded and submerged into the thought
stream.

Soon he re-emerged. ‘Their quest bears some
resemblance to the second tale of Jadde. The one the priests taught us in our
learning years,’ Halle spoke between mouthfuls of broth.

Without thinking Malkrin went through the
second scripture in his mind as if a priest was chanting it.

A man of good standing came to Cyprusnia. He
told of a great Goddess emerging from the mouth of a giant bird resting on the
shores of a mountain lake. The fabulous being then chanted spells to a blinking
eye on her wrist. He humbled himself before her and she smiled and wished him
peace. He dared ask her name. She smiled again and the name appeared in his
head. Jadde. His head throbbed with the power of the name. She had enchanted
him. Then Jadde ordered him to continue his journey. His legs obeyed although
he wanted to stay and question the Goddess further.

But he forced a backward glance and the
spell was broken.

He looked and saw Jadde walk into the lake
which had turned to liquid crystal. She walked down glass steps without causing
a ripple to stir the water. He ran over to aid her and looked down within the glittering
liquid. She had sunk below, walking glass steps to a realm where the lake was
held back by a great glass castle. He watched her lay down to sleep within the building
on a bed of emeralds and diamonds. He waited a day and a night at the water’s
edge peering in. The great bird behind him tired of waiting and took off with a
huge cry. It spread sand and dust over the man – but still he awaited her awakening.
He waited many days and nights. Finally he boldly placed a toe in the water,
daring to follow in rescue. The castle swam from him and he dared not follow.
And so he waited on the bank, and waited for its return. And waited: then died.

Now she still awaits someone to discover
her crystal castle, awaken her and return her to the people of Cyprusnia.

Malkrin swept back from the memory of the priest
reciting the script. He became aware that Halle, Seara and the ivy-people all
stared at him in wonder.

     ‘Well recited Sire,’ Halle praised.

     Seara looked from one awed ivy framed face
to another, ‘I think we all felt the tale within us.’

     ‘I just recited the scripture to
myself. I suppose, to see how it related to the ivy-peoples’ journey.’

     Bulwan came over to Malkrin and
stooped on one knee and twittered in his strange tongue.

     ‘He is asking for the third story,’
Halle explained.

     ‘We must thank Bulwan and ask
something of them before I recite the final account.’ Malkrin thought for a
long moment on the best exchange for the tale. ‘Ask Bulwan to describe their
gods and why they have deserted his tribe? There may be a clue to help our
understanding of the great Goddess.

     Halle thought the question, his eyes
closed in concentration. Bulwan twittered, and added gestures and signs as he
spoke. Finally the chief sat and looked around him; a lost look filled his
face.

     Halle related the images he had seen floating
through Bulwan’s mind. ‘The Skatheln’s gods appeared regularly at full moon to
their elders. They showed where the best game was to be hunted and when and
where to grow crops for the best yield. It seems the Skatheln relied heavily on
their gods advice and ‘a summoning’ was an eagerly awaited event for the whole
tribe. During the ceremony a ghostly apparition would float into their woodland
temple and speak. The whole tribe would listen intently as the gods instructed
the elders. They would then hunt and grow crops according to the divine word.
Apparently wheat, oats, apples and other strange fruit grew well, giving the
tribe plenty of food. Game congregated ready to be slaughtered, ensuring the people’s
bellies would be full, even in winter. All went well for untold lifetimes until
the last full moon ceremony. A god was instructing, and then suddenly finished
by adding an unheard of warning. The god warned of the dangers of approaching
Archegrie demons.

     Abruptly the god had shimmered and
vanished.

     The elders were horribly disturbed. Then
from behind a nearby mount, dark storm clouds appeared and a crackle of lightning
forked from the mountain setting nearby trees alight. It was a bad omen and the
tribe were mortified. They sacrificed lambs, cockerels and pigs to the gods and
implored them for further guidance. But the gods never returned. They tried a
valuable sacrifice; a young orphan child, to no avail. Then they sent their
gods another special gift. A child offered by fearful parents.

      But their gods stayed away, and for
the first time the Skatheln had to think for themselves. Decisions came hard to
them. But when the first demons were sighted they finally decided to search for
the missing gods in a distant domain. They hoped to persuade them to return and
to come to the tribe’s aid. Then from the lightning smashed mountain a horde of
Archegrie emerged. They run now before the evil tide.’

     ‘By Jadde – how long have they been
searching and running?’

     ‘Apparently for six full moons.’

     Malkrin looked at Bulwan, their gods
had indeed deserted them. He looked from one expectant tribesman to another. He
couldn’t help them find their gods, who he feared defeated by the Archegrie. But
he hoped the third tale of Jadde would give them some ideas and perhaps some hope.

     ‘I’ll tell them the third scripture,’
he stated simply. ‘It’s all we can offer them.’ Then he looked at Bulwan and thought
about the sacred script he remembered a pious priest reciting to a respectful boy
all those years ago.

       ‘
Jadde the silver robed Goddess
stood ten feet tall on a rock overseeing her adoring disciples. She opened her
arms encompassing them all and bent a small silver twig to her mouth. Her voice
boomed giant words through it. The people cowered again for the volume of her
revered voice had set a spell within them. She spoke these words.

     ‘I will entertain those of you who
have gained higher senses. Those who learn to rise above mere living. These
will be the people who will sit with me on the right and on the left of my
emerald throne. This will only happen when you have learnt to master the gifts
of the mind as I have demonstrated. Meanwhile you will thrive according to my
instructions and guard your lands against a return of the Archgry.’ The Goddess
held aloft the symbol of achievement, a golden sun. Then she continued, ‘let
this be the symbol for a talent gained. Let all aspire to achieve the status
this token implies. I will return when all have gained the knowledge and skills
to wear these high emblems. For now I bid you, my people, farewell.’

     The great Goddess shimmered and she floated
into the huge bird’s mouth. The bird closed its beak then swept up the mountain
to Tarn Lake. Here the bird changed into a fish and swam down to her palace.
There she waits to this day.’

Malkrin looked around the tribe, noting
they were concentrating intently on him.

     ‘Again, well told Sire,’ Halle whispered,
‘the words were even clearer in my head that time.’

     Bulwan spoke, and gradually his
birdsong speech sped up and grew louder as other members of the Skathen joined
in, sounding like a flock of starlings greeting sunset.

     Halle held fingers to his temples then
interpreted.

     ‘Bulwan and his elders’ thank you for
the third tale, he says it will give them much discussion over the evening
campfires.’

     Bulwan started chirping again, his
tone different to before.

     Halle took a deep breath, paused, then
said excitedly. ‘We may have a problem,’ his voice rose in urgency. ‘He says we
are being sought by strangers.’