All Living : A Seedvision Saga (9781621473923) (42 page)

The path up the mountain was not an easy one. Kole had been up there before to sit and look out at the plain that spread before it. Jorel had accompanied Kole on a few occasions and he had labored up the slope. Upon reaching the pinnacle Jorel, out of breath, had flatly commented, “You want to throw yourself off of this?”

But Kole had only laughed, and truth be told he was a bit leery of doing that. For years he had worked to perfect his air-glider. He had not wanted to perform this particular test before he was ready. But now he had utmost faith in his design. He had flown it on numerous runs, making minor adjustments to the wings, the harness, and the controls. He had dreamed of this day, planned for it for years, but had continued to put it off until now.

Life had a way of intimating itself into the daily affairs of a man. He had come here for solitude and had found it. He had taken years to build his home and acquire what belongings he had. He had buried his mother and father, been present at Cain’s death and Kesitah’s. He had lost his friend Chavvah and a number of his brothers and sisters. Over the centuries he had developed many projects: the running water in his home, his boats, his experiments with clay and metals, his animals and his crops. Spare moments seemed few and far between, even for a man as unburdened with immediate family obligations as Kole was. His boyhood dream of flying had not materialized overnight, and over time it had seen many manifestations.

From the start Kole had thought that it was simply a matter of wings and feathers. This proved to be a dramatic miscalculation. He had used animal bladders and later animal skins sewn together to make kites and later full-scale models of large bags filled with hot air that he hoped would carry him into the sky. But the results had left him wanting. He had no good way to keep the air in the balloons hot enough to maintain lift.

Using oils from plants and animal fats, he had come up with several hotly burning fuels that, although they burned hot, were insufficient to heat the trapped air fast enough to keep him aloft. He had experimented with glass and mirrors, angled to catch the rays of the sun, hoping they could be used to direct the sun’s warmth into the airbag, but to little avail. Also the skins had a tendency to slowly leak.

Kole’s next endeavor was to create a type of glue that would seal the bag, make it airtight. Pitch and tar had proved too heavy. Using the natural materials available to him he had ground nuts and berries, bones and stones, leathers and feathers, glass and grass, beads and seeds; trying to achieve a paste that would have the effect that he desired.

Eventually he had traveled, looking for useful oddities that might prove to be what he needed. He had met others whose ideas intrigued him: woven cloth from plant fibers, from animal fur and hair, oddly enough from the excretions of particular types of worms. He had discovered interesting attributes with certain types of tree saps, soils, and sea life.

He had taken all these ideas home with him to be poked and probed, seen, sniffed, and sung to. He had heated them up, cooled them down, spun them around, and buried them in the ground. He had measured, weighed, and combined. He had observed their reactions to a plethora of stimuli and selected the most useful of them for his purposes. And finally, today, he was sure he had the combination just right.

Kole continued to climb the fickle side of the mountain. Years ago he had taken the time to carve a sort of stair into the slope and attached guide ropes into the rock along the steeper areas, more for Jorel’s benefit than his own, but burdened down now with his roll of glider parts, he found himself using them periodically as well.

The day had advanced well along, but a quick glance at the sun told Kole he was right on schedule. The air was breezy and light, the sun warm on his face. A profusion of mountain flowers filled the air with the heady scent of nose-twister, sweetbrier and pimpernels. Birds flew back and forth from secret nooks and rookeries in the rocks, encouraging Kole with their cheery twitters to hurry and join them in the air.

Kole balanced his load of glider parts and pieces, wrapped in a thick hide, on his left shoulder as he climbed. The path was severe but walkable, and Kole enjoyed the out-of-breath feeling that came from the exercise. This close to the heavens, he felt a closeness to his Creator, one of physical proximity that mirrored his spiritual bond, much like the lake below mirrored the mountain he was climbing.

Too often, Kole had witnessed, human beings were satisfied with artificial substitutes; a high mountain, a grove of trees, stones images, wooden idols, places and things that gave them a glimpse of the holy without ever truly seeking to attain it; finding a broad, well-traveled road paved by their fallible ancestors instead of putting forth the effort to follow the narrow, winding path that God had marked for them through the wilderness of sin.

Almost as if mankind were a crocodile, a creature of both land and water, human beings swim in a sea of both physical and spiritual, yet rarely glimpse the greater of the two, so content are they with their immediate surroundings. Kole was glad that, among other things, he had taken the time that morning to kneel before his Creator and ask for a blessing upon today’s endeavor.

Before he knew it, he had reached his anticipated jump site. His thoughts had so sure-footedly meandered amongst the crags and crevices of his imagination that he had barely registered the last few hundred feet of his climb. Now he stood on a grassy slope, two-thirds of the way up the mountain, mentally preparing himself to leap off the raw edge of the cliff with nothing more than a few sticks and some cloth to prevent his demise. He silently prayed again that God would be with him, but he knew that he was defying natural laws that the Creator had established. He could not hope that God would send angels to cushion his fall after voluntarily throwing himself off the mountain. Perhaps, but that would be God’s choice and was not a realistic allowance.

Kole set his bundle and pack down on the grass and began to untie the leather straps holding it together. He set aside the lengths of bamboo that would make up the frame and supporting struts and unrolled the extraordinarily light and amazingly smooth cloth that he had had commissioned to be woven especially for this project. Amazing how the Creator can lead you to find just what you need.

On his journeys, while Kole had been exploring the world, he had met two blind sisters; rare, remarkable women. They lived in a small fishing village on the shore of a large inland sea with their brother. They had invited Kole to stay with them for a few days, and after he had accepted, he discovered a home away from home.

Their brother had an uncanny knack for construction. His innovative loom designs enabled them to produce some of the finest fabrics that Kole had ever encountered. Kole had given them his specifications, and in exchange for one hundred sheep and ten mules they had produced a work of art.

Dyed a deep blue color with lines of purple woven through it in geometric patterns, the sisters had created for Kole a textile of such rich complexity, durability, and craftsmanship that Kole still marveled every time he looked at it. Kole had then spent many hours applying layer upon thin layer of a special sealing compound, which he had perfected, to the cloth, made from a mixture of plant oils and wax that when dried created a sleek, invisible, wind-resistant barrier.

He slid the slender bamboo rods through loops of fabric on the windward, or leading, edge of the wings and attached them to a bamboo framework with small pegs. Each peg had a hole bored through the exposed ends and Kole pressed angular wooden pins through these to prevent the pegs from slipping.

Kole drove two tapered spikes of wood into the ground and attached the fabric wings to them with hemp ropes to prevent the glider from being lifted up by the wind like a kite and carried away before Kole was ready.

Sitting down cross-legged on the ground, Kole then began to piece together sections of the frame and the top post. He inserted pre-cut poles of bamboo through the sewn loops of material and secured them with the pegs, then wrapped them tightly with damp animal sinew. As the air flowed over the sinew it would dry, making the separation of the connections by accident nearly impossible.

He slid the bamboo rods through the center holes of two wooden spheres that would act as wheels, positioning them evenly between stabilizing pegs. He then proceeded to fashion the triangular control bar that he would hang on to during his flight and affixed a comfortable leather harness that would secure him to the glider in the unlikely event that his hands slipped. The control bar would give him limited maneuverability and the bulk of his steering and guidance would come from weight shift and leg position.

Kole used a combination of lightweight braided rope and sinew as rigging to attach his control bar to his frame, sail, props, and top post. He stood up and stretched, visually performing a safety inspection of his small craft, double-checking all of his knots and connections, confirming there were no tears or frayed areas on the wings, examining for uniform tension on his bamboo rods, and plucking each brace and cable to verify that they were harmonically sound.

Kole then opened a pouch he had brought with him and poured into his hand a tangled ball of stickseeds and burrs. He had carefully gathered them earlier in the week and now rubbed them on the inside of his leggings. The hooks, or teeth, of the ragweed and goose grass seeds clung annoyingly to his clothing but would help him to keep his legs tightly together while in flight without the added risk or need to tie them.

When all seemed to be in readiness, Kole said a quick but fervent prayer for his personal success and safety. It never hurt to have a moral support. The wind had picked up a bit and that seemed a good indication to Kole that it was time to go. The day was clear and the air crisp and refreshing. Kole strapped himself into his harness and adjusted the straps, cinching them in places and loosening them in others. He put his backpack on and secured it. Inside were a couple changes of clothes, some tools, food, and tradables. Kole wasn’t sure how far he would be able to fly today, but he planned on going as far as he could, due east, and it would probably be several days or weeks time to journey on foot home again. Having a few items to barter with people wouldn’t hurt.

Untying the tethers with a quick flick of his wrists, Kole picked up the weight of the hang glider and felt the wind’s eager tug on his sail. He found a comfortable balance point with his gloved hands and only then realized how sweaty his palms were inside the doeskin. He didn’t feel nervous, but anyone not excited about a chance to fly should not be flying.

This is it,
Kole thought. He made one last quick inspection: wings, cables, knots, wind speed and direction, clear approach, visibility, grip, two fists of distance between his chest and the control bar, equipment. Everything was in perfect order. Kole started walking down the slope.

The craft seemed heavy even though Kole had done everything he could think of to minimize the weight. The wind gusted and the glider tried to get out ahead of him. Kole picked up his pace and began to jog.
No down wind,
he thought. I can deal with anything but a down wind. He felt the lift of the wind under the wings already and a bright smile dawned across his face. His pace increased and twice he had to hop as the sail literally lifted him off the grass.

His runway was about a hundred yards long, sloping downhill to the edge of the cliff.
This is it,
Kole thought again. No turning back now. He quickly flexed his fingers, sensing that he had been gripping the control bar too tightly. Again the craft leaped ahead of him and Kole was running, sprinting full out as fast as his legs could go. He had to keep up with the craft or it would nose down into the grass and send him tumbling. Tied to it, as he was, a strong burst of air at that wrong time, and he would spin head over heels off the side of the mountain.

He ran a bit bow-legged too so that the burrs and stickweed seeds along the inseam of his pants would not prematurely catch the opposite leg and interrupt his timing, again possibly causing him to trip and roll the remainder of the way down the hill, then plunge to his demise. Just another one of the many enemies of today’s success.