I had heard tale of it but had always considered it an open lie told by bald faced liars. Few, if any, ever entered the outlands, fewer still lived to tell of it. Never having seen it for myself, I was of the opinion that such a thing could never exist.
Water. . . water for as far as the eye could see forming a line that could be nothing short of the world's edge. . . a place where creation itself had stopped. It churned endlessly as if it were trying to free itself of its own bulk. It rose and fell with massive rows that marched one by one to smash against the bottom of the hill upon which we stood. On that side the gentle slope we had climbed gave way to sharp clusters of rock outcroppings. At the very bottom the rocks we had searched the night before lay under several feet of water, disappearing under each massive row that crashed upon it only to then race away. The sound was tremendous. Again and again the waves beat upon the shore, one after the other.
"Do you hear them, Brother?" Bowen asked, turning a shoulder to peer over the edge.
I didn't—not at first, but as the water churned and roiled angrily below us. Each in turn lifted itself up higher and higher to become a new massive wave, becoming a mad frothing white at its top. One after the other raced to crash upon the rocks washing closer and closer to where we stood. Enormous amounts of water rose and fell with a deafening roar only to be replaced with another and another and another, seven in total, each more powerful than the one that preceded it. For a brief moment, laying under the sound of the water that raced across the rocks. . . a voice. . . a deep, menacing, unintelligible voice. It growled its anger, demanding the same thing over and over, punctuating its displeasure with the roar of more water and then the unthinkable. It suddenly shifted, becoming calm, placid, more fluid by comparison. Now the swells of water appeared to be half their size and power. Again I counted seven, each gently rushed to the rocks and in their parting a voice. This time it was clear—a woman's voice. It pleaded softly, sorrowfully, begging in heart wrenching tones. There were no open, discernable words, just an overwhelming sense of loss that pulled at me.
"What are they saying?" I asked, feeling the tension of this place.
"In my village, Brother, it is believed they cry for one who is lost to them," Bowen volunteered.
I don't know why but I looked to Grake for his explanation.
He looked to Bowen with his head bent and silently nodded his agreement.
"My people do not come to this place. The water does not welcome the Norha," he said in little more than a whisper, turning away.
I stood for a moment, thinking about what they said and listening to the voices in the water. Out where it appeared the world ended, the line of water where the sky came to rest, a massive storm rose, black and brooding. Flashes of lightning jumped from one immense cloud to another illuminating them from inside. Hundreds if not thousands of them had broken free, drifting overhead, heading for parts unknown. Each a giant, dark purple, cheerless castle that shifted and undulated endlessly with a flat, black underside that held the threat of rain.
"What's on the other side?" I asked.
"There is no other side. Many of the Kindred have tried. . . several times. No one who goes upon it ever comes home. There is something in the water that preys upon good men."
I believed it, simply based upon its enormous size and the way it moved. It churned with an appalling, endless hunger. You could smell it in the air.
"Brother," Bowen called, pointing. At the bottom of the hill heading our way was Pules and a good many of his kind numbering well over twenty, each armed with a club.
"Why are you here, Pules?" I asked, fearing I already knew the answer.
"We have come for the spear," he returned stiffly.
"We've already talked about this. You know it will only lock itself to the ground if I release it."
"True. . . as long as you live. If I take it from your dying hand it will pass willingly to me and the Ogin will remain the law," he said, signaling the others.
"Go home, Pules, before you do something you'll regret," I warned.
"I will only regret going home empty handed," he said. At that instant the same pale blue energy enveloped his hands as that of Cura’s. He stepped closer, readying himself for a fight.
"Then come for it," Bowen demanded, stepping in front of me, squaring his shoulders. What surprised me more was Grake as he moved to stand next to Bowen.
"Come," Grake said menacingly, waving them closer as he moved further down the hill.
Several of Pules’ men suddenly thought better of it, stepping back a little.
Suddenly the energy ball between his hands doubled in size and with a quick gesture he threw it in our direction. It exploded at our feet showering us with dirt and rock thrown high into the air.
Before I could react, Grake and Bowen charged them, diving into the middle of them with no self-regard. It didn't take long before they too swung a club as well. Even with that advantage, Pules began to throw energy ball after energy ball allowing his men to push them back up the hill.
I pounded the spear to the ground expecting a clap of thunder but got nothing in return. Panic filled me. I repeated the effort several times before Pules and the others were on top of us. Grake and Bowen all but stood over me in an effort to protect me until we had nowhere to go. In short order we stood at the edge, Pules and the others in front of us and the deafening waves behind us, when the ground under our feet gave way and we tumbled to the water below.
I was beaten repeatedly by the falling bodies of Grake and Bowen as we hurdled to the bottom. To my personal terror the spear got away from me, striking the water before we did.
I was bruised, beaten and disoriented. To be honest I didn't think of Bowen or Grake at all, just the spear. The water surged over us, throwing us repeatedly into the rocks and then suddenly withdrew, pulling with surprising power in an attempt to drag us into deeper water.
It was cold, salty, bitter to the taste, and it foamed madly. It was as if it had fingers and felt as though it were pulling at me, grabbing me in an effort to hold me under the water. I was certain, it wanted to drown me. I dove repeatedly, searching the rocks for the spear when two of Pules’ men fell on top of me, forcing the air out of me. It seemed to take forever for me to push my way to the surface, empty handed. Over the roar of the water I could hear the screams for help from Pules’ men as they were washed away. I was shocked at how fast they were pulled out into deeper water, screaming and floundering with every inch of it. As I turned to look at them the water rose high above them, blotting out the sky before crashing down on them with what I can only describe as malicious intent, driving them below the surface never to be seen again.
My heart pounded wildly as the water threatened to add me to their fate. It was as if it had taken on a life of its own, forcing me under time and time again. At the moment my foot touched the spear, I heard Grake. The Norha was being pulled into deeper water. It was as if he were being held in the grip of a huge fist that repeatedly dragged him under water despite his best efforts to the contrary. His expression spoke volumes. . . he was going to drown and he knew it.
I dove one last time for the spear and clutched it, knowing fully well that all of our lives depended on it. As I pulled it from the water the head began to glow a bright blue and the water released me, surging sluggishly around me.
"Grab it," I screamed stretching out as far as I could reach.
Grake flailed wildly in an attempt to grasp the extended spear. At the moment he flung his arm in its direction the water pulled him under. He had disappeared from sight. I was shaken to the core, not just by his disappearance but by the sudden dread of his absence.
For an instant Grake shot back to the surface, drawing a deep, panic-filled breath. His eyes instantly locked with mine.
"Grab it," I howled over the din of water. I tipped toed to the edge of the rocks doing everything I could to reach out to him as the water I stood in grew deeper, holding just at my chin.
The tip glowed brighter and brighter as he went under one last time. Only his hand remained visible and then it too sank beneath the water.
I plunged the spear wildly time and time again, hoping he would see the glow and reach for it. At the moment I was ready to give up I felt a fierce tug on the other end and then another. It was him. By the third tug he threatened to drag me off my perch and into the water alongside him.
The harder he pulled the more the spear resisted and we were in a stalemate. To my relief, Bowen was suddenly there and grabbed the spear with me. I had forgotten about him but was now thrilled for his help. He held the spear, swimming its length to reach Grake. Wrapping his arm around him, he pulled him closer to shore until he was able to fend for himself.
It took far longer than I would have liked but we eventually got out of the water, crawling back on solid ground.
Happily, Pules and the others were nowhere to be seen. Now lying on my back on solid ground I could hear the labored breathing of Grake and Bowen mix with mine. I watched the dark, massive clouds that drifted overhead and wondered where they were going. . . I wondered if all the clouds in the world had started from here. . . and then I heard it again. The voices from the water called to me. I thought I heard it call my name, beckoning me, begging me, pleading for my return to come back to the water.
"Well, that was fun. Let's not do that again," I quipped, trying to put it out of my mind.
"You are wise in saying so, Shalic," Grake choked between ragged breaths.
"I think we need to find Pules and settle this. All in favor?" I asked, weakly raising my hand.
Without a word the others did the same.
"Good, now give me a minute."
Tegon Maus was raised pretty much the same as everyone else... devoted mother, strict father and all the imaginary friends I could conjure.
The first thing I can remember writing was for my wife. For the life of me I can't remember what it was about... something about dust bunnies under the bed and monsters in my closet. It must have been pretty good because she married me shortly after that. I spent a good number of years chasing other dreams before I got back to writing.
It wasn't a deliberate conscious thought it was more of a stepping stone. It was the eighties, my wife and I had joined a dream interpret group and we were encouraged to write down our dreams as they occurred. "Be as detailed as you can," we were told.
I was thrilled. If there is one thing I enjoy it's making people believe me and I like to exaggerate. Not a big exaggeration or an outright lie mine you, just a little step out of sync, just enough so you couldn't be sure if it were true or not. When I write, I always write with the effort of "it could happen" very much in mind and nothing, I guarantee you, nothing, makes me happier.
http://www.tirpub.com/tmaus
Thanks for the post Nicole !! Greatly appreciated !
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