Collaborative Poem

 

 Shisan – Cobblestone Path

 

Included is the collaborative poem discussed on Wednesday’s zoom.

I thought it could be of interest to the group to see yet another strand of poetry.

It would be helpful if all of this email could be put on the blog, as people can better understand the format etc.

 

I have sought permissions from the other writers for it to be published and all are happy to be included.

The poem has recently been published in “Presence”, Britain’s top haiku genre related journal.

 

I look forward to seeing the outcome.

Best wishes

Rob

Cobblestone Path (12 verse Shisan)

cobblestone path

a view of blossoms

with every step                                   mv

 

children play leapfrog

in the new grass                                 ms

 

winding down

with smooth jazz

and a bubble bath                               po

 

the last nut in place

on the cloudbusting machine              rk

 

she tells me

she’s a dominatrix

over ice cream sundaes                      mv

 

since the mastectomy

they’ve slept in separate rooms          po

 

plate boundaries

shifting along the fault lines

of the East-African Rift                       ms

 

the mutant crickets’ 

soundless wings                                 rk

 

moonlight 

has silvered

all the daytime colors                        ms

 

graffiti artists

share a cigarette                               mv

 

the Pope again

asks Michelangelo

when it will end                                 rk

 

a wedge of swans

above a withered field                      po

 

 

mv - Maureen Virchau (USA), ms - Mary Stevens (USA),  po - Polona Oblak (sabaki - Leader) (Slovenia), rk- Robert Kingston (uk)

 renku is a collaborative poem generally taken on when a group of poets meet. Formally named rengay, it as been around in Japan and China for hundreds of years.

Each poets can either take turns or the sabaki (leader) chooses from supplied verses.

Dependant on length of poem, they range between 12 and 36 generally, but can be upwards of a thousand verses. Each verse, be it three or two lines follows a table of events and must link to the previous verse, whilst shifting away from the previous. The events generally include at least one blossom or flower verse,  a moon verse, two love verses , with the rest being non seasonal verses. The opening verse is from where haiku originated. Separated out by Basho.

The poem is divided into 4 sections, with each section traditionally being written on one folded side of a piece of paper.

 

Shisan a significant occasion Kaoru Kubota - 1970's
The Shisan - 12 verses - A Description
The Shisan is a twelve verse sequence consisting of four movements of three verses each. The movements are treated as preface, development part one, development part two, and rapid close. To the extent that the four part division is taken to reflect that of the kasen, the shisan also lays claim to the topical and tonal characteristics of the jo-ha-kyu pacing paradigm. As with all formal renku the shisan starts with the season in which composition takes place. Unusually the seasons then appear in calendar order with one season featuring per movement. Typically spring and autumn will take a grouped pair of verses, whereas summer and winter are represented by a single verse apiece. However, for sequences begun in summer or winter, the wakiku would also be expected to take that season as the shisan invites a relatively conventional treatment. The majority of moon and blossom verses will be set against autumn and spring respectively - the order in which they appear, and the characteristics of the relevant movement, being dependent on the demands of the calendar. In more experimental sequences the blossom position may be treated as the more generic flower. In all cases, a pair of love verses will appear in one of the central movements, normally the one that does not feature moon or blossom.  The word shisan may be read in several ways. Primarily shi means four, and san means three. When written in kanji shi may read as tamawari - something bestowed - and san as bansankai - a formal meal. The suggestion is that participants are invited to a significant occasion - reflecting the expectation that all will respect the finer points of style.
side 1
	autumn		autumn	spring		spring		summer		winter
hokku	au mn		au	sp bl		sp [mn]		su		wi
wakiku	au		au	sp		sp [mn]		su/ns		wi/ns
daisan	ns		ns	ns		ns		ns		ns
side 2
4 short		ns/wi	wi/ns [mn]		ns/su lv	ns/su		ns		ns
5 long		wi/ns	ns/wi [mn]		su/ns lv	su/ns		au mn		sp bl
6 short		ns	ns		ns	ns		au		sp
side 3
7 long		ns/sp [bl]	ns/sp lv	ns/au [mn]			ns/au		ns	ns lv
8 short		sp	sp lv	au			au lv		wi/ns lv	su/ns lv
9 long		sp/ns [bl]	sp/ns	au/ns [mn]			au/ns lv		ns/wi lv	ns/su
side 4
10 short	ns lv		ns	ns		ns			ns	ns
11 long	su/ns lv		su/ns [fl]	wi/ns		wi/ns [fl]			sp bl	au mn
ageku	ns/su		ns/su [fl]	ns/wi		ns/wi [fl]			sp	au
Not s	su/ns - (wakiku only) - where the hokku is summer, wakiku may be non-season wi/ns - (wakiku only) - winter likewise sn/ns or ns/sn - (elsewhere) - whichever is selected first its counterpart is selected after ns - non-season (miscellaneous) position bl - blossom position [bl] - alternate blossom position (when season selected) - the choice is either/or [fl] - alternate flower position (when season selected) - the choice is either/or mn - moon position [mn] - alternate moon position (when season selected) - the choice is either/or lv - love position, indicative - love verses move as group

 From Robert Kingston

Hanging Tinsel

by Rosemary Clarke.

It's hard to hang up tinsel
it's hard to decorate
When you miss all
the goodies on your plate.
The way that she cooked dinner
when you were just a kid
The toys that used to spin and
the little things she did.
Like warming up your PJ’s
And stoking up the fire
The way that everything was good
When you were in the mire.
The way that she'd make Christmas time
the best there ever was
and everything else she did
and all of it because
she cared and she loved you
in every single way
it's hard to hang up tinsel
It's hard on Christmas Day.

For all those missing others this Christmas; bless you all.

Copyright Rosemary Clarke

Abbalar Tales ~ 20

 Abbalar Tales ~ 20 Corvalen

By Len Morgan 

They gathered some sacking from the upper shelf, as darkness, descended, seating themselves either side of the door.

"What did we discover?" Wizomi spoke his thoughts aloud.   "Five bottles of wine and one of vinegar, assorted sacking, and wooden shelves bolted to the walls.  A long narrow grill running beneath the shelving on the long side wall, which could just provide us with a means of escape, if we can remove it."

"Escape to what," Genna asked?

'Well friend WIZ, it's a pretty situation you find yourself in, and without any help from me, I might add.'

'Orden?   Are you aware of our situation?   Can you make any suggestions?'

'It would help if we knew whether the grill is painted and what it is made of.   Get me that information and I will assess your chances of removing it,'  Orden answered in Wizomi's mind.

'Try scraping it with a fingernail to see if it will peel is the metal soft or hard?.   If it is soft, try soaking bare metal with the vinegar and tell me what you observe.   It could possibly weaken the metal bond'   A new voice interposed.

'Aldor?   You made it!'

'Hello Wiz, I'm on my way, I should be with you in days…'

'I would advise against seeking us out, I suspect they are using us as bait to capture you,' Wizomi warned.

'I doubt anybody would recognise him anyway' said Orden.

Wizomi clambered under the lower shelf and began to scrape the metal until it was bare.

"Pass me the Vinegar," he said.   He poured the liquid onto the metal, 'its fizzing!'  He noted silently.

"Somebody is coming," Genna hissed.

From outside the cell, they heard a group of people approaching.

"Replace the sacks where they came from, quickly!" said Wiz, urgency in his voice.

They were barely seated, either side of the door, before the visitors, stopped outside.

"I don't care how thoroughly you searched them, I saw a light shining under that door.  I want the whole place searched again, thoroughly!" 

Further talk went unheard over the rattling of keys turning the rusty workings of the lock.   The door opened easily on well-oiled hinges and two overlarge figures stood silhouetted against the lanterns held by a third man who remained stationed outside.  

 "When I close the door, I want them thoroughly searched that means the cell also," he said, hanging one of the lanterns on a hook immediately inside.   The stockier, and younger of the two men carried a short but heavy cudgel, the other carried leg irons, with which he shackled them together whilst his partner began a systematic search of the cell.  

"They're kind of young, little more than kids.   About the same age as your twins, maybe a bit more," 'leg-irons' observed, inspecting them critically, whilst carrying out a thorough and efficient search.

"Anything?"   Lantern man called from the other side of the door.

"Nothing!" said leg-irons.

"What are you being held for?" asked Cudgel.

"I came here in search of the young lady here, why she was brung, only the bringer knows," Wizomi replied, "Mayhap you could find out for us?" He added hopefully.

"Don't hold your breath for an answer," leg-irons chuckled.

"Where are we?"   Genna asked, speaking for the first time since their arrival.

"We are here to get answers not to provide them," yelled lantern man more to warn his comrades, against giving something away, than to chide her.   "Have you found anything Harby?" he added.

"Not so far" Cudgel man answered, "open your mouth boy," he said to Wizomi, holding the lantern above and close to his face, "and you," he said to Genna bringing the lamp closer to her. "Hey she's a looker and no mistake," said leg-irons.  

"Eyes off Bodley, she's not fer the likes o you," Harby warned him.   He completed the search by running his fingers through their hair, "They're clean," he said, evidently satisfied, picking up the five bottles of wine he smiled.   "You won't mind if I take these will you," He said heading for the door, as Bodley unfastened the irons.

Harebelly kicked hard on the door and yelled, "OUT!"   He returned in moments to place two bowls of stew, on the floor, just inside the door together with half a loaf of black bread each.

 .-...-.

Aldor’s Return 

As he drew nearer, he felt excited, he was almost eager to set eyes on Corvalen once more.   After his strange meeting, he felt at peace - he had forgiven himself - and was now able to ride in and embrace his destiny having jettisoned all the emotional baggage he had accumulated, over many years.   He entered the fringes of the city, passing close to the 'Pochette Platzi'.   Recalling Genna's obsession with the place, remembering how her eyes lit up when she spoke of it.   To Aldor, it looked a little shabby, he smiled anyway.   But, who was holding them and where he thought.   He closed his eyes, 'Wiz?   Where are you?'   He asked.  

.-…-. 

As they slammed the cell door shut and turned the key, Wizomi cursed under his breath.   "Damn, Damn, I should have obtained some form of implement from one or other of them, but I was too slow," he chided himself.

"Something like this?" Genna asked, holding up a small folding knife.  "I liberated it from Harby's pocket while he was searching me.  That will teach him to keep his mind on the job," she said smugly.

They ate the stew and bread quickly, not knowing where their next meal might come from.    Then Wizomi clambered under the bottom shelf, and succeeded in bashing his head on its underside, dislodging it in the process; the shelf flew over his head and shoulders landing with a clatter at Genna's feet.   They laughed, spontaneously.

"It wasn't attached." She laughed, tugging hard at the second shelf, "sorry the others are firmly fixed."

Wizomi was soon ensconced, beneath the second shelf, busy scraping away the paint around the edges of the brickwork.   "That should do it," he said with satisfaction after half an hours work.  The paint proved to be more resilient than the mortar surrounding the grill.   Ten minutes later, he announced, "we need two cords eighteen or so inches in length.  We can use them to pull out the grill and hold it in place after we have gone.”

Genna took one of the sacks and proceeded to rip it along its warp. "Pass me that knife," she said.   Five minutes later she had plaited two basic but serviceable lengths of rope.  

Wizomi cursed a second time, "My fingers are too thick to lace the cords through the grill."

"Let me try," she said.   "Yes," she said on her third attempt "Done it!"

"Good.   All we have to do now is hold one end each and pull…"   Seconds later, he peered warily out, through the hole, into a long deserted corridor.

"It hasn't been that long since they fed us, I'd guess we could have five or six hours before they return."

"Do you want to wait to feed your face again, or shall we go wand-a-bout?" he asked.

In the corridor, he carefully replaced the grill so it would pass cursory inspection.   He stepped out the length of their cell, and found another identical grill and, others at regular intervals running in either direction.   Carefully he marked their cell before they headed off down the corridor.

"We need to discover where we are," Wizomi said.

"What difference will that make" she asked.

"Oh!   Believe me, it will make a difference,” he assured her.

As they travelled down the tunnel, they were struck by its repetitive nature, completely uniform, so that you could trick your mind into thinking you hadn't moved at all.  

"There has to be some difference," he said under his breath, trying hard to convince himself.

The corridor had a very slight but constant curve to the right, from Genna's point of view; she offered the observation for comment.

"It could be a coincidence, or it may prove to be a circular corridor but, just think how large a circle that would be," he said aloud.    "Genna, Walk ahead, and count your steps until I say stop." 

She began to walk "1, 2, 3, …… 826,  27,  28…"

"STOP!   She barely heard his distant yell.

She turned, but he was out of sight.   She walked towards the opposite wall.  On her second pace, he came into view, walking rapidly towards her.

"Incredible," he said, drawing a circle in the thin layer of dust on the floor, quartering and segmenting it. "Say that's 828 yards, I'd guess there would be 12 segments which would make it between 4 and 5 miles round…   The outer walls of the city would be roughly six miles round.  This could be a single tunnel inside the walls of Corvalen.   But it was not built recently, nobody could keep such a large construction project secret for long; this tunnel is close to twenty feet wide.   How could they dispose of such enormous quantities of soil, or indeed import the amount of rock and building materials required to build this?"   

"Have you seen the ceiling plates, thousands, it’s like daylight in here, and I know some pretty wonderful people, but none could even guess how to create such objects," she said.  

He shook his head falling to his knees.

"Wiz, I think we'd best move on, do you hear that sound…?"

(to be continued)

Copyright Len Morgan

 

 Haiga

by Robert Kingston

Survival

 Survival

by Rosemary Clarke

WE'RE WALKING

covid covid

AND TALKING

covid covid

WE'RE EATING

covid covid

AND MEETING

covid covid

WE'RE LAUGHING

covid covid

AND BATHING

covid covid

WE'RE RESTING

covid covid

AND TESTING

covid covid

WE'RE DATING

covid covid

CELEBRATING

covid covid

WE'RE PLAYING

covid covid

AND STAYING

covid covid

Safety depends on keeping Covid constantly in our minds whatever we do.

Stay safe.

Copyright Rosemarie Clarke 

 AWAKEN

By Peter Woodgate 

When darkness begins to gently fade away

and shadows, black before,

become a shade of grey,

we wonder, at each object,

stark against the racing dawn,

the clarity of life, as each day is born.

 

Why marvel at these works of art

they are but shadows,

whispers of the great inception,

salmon, struggling upstream

swimming in the wrong direction.

 

For night must fall, decay concealing,

but truth, as light, is all revealing.

Pray then to hear the gunshot blast

for if we feel the bullet in our heart,

redemption is long since past

and pain is just the start.

 

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate (first published 1984)  

Abbalar Tales ~ 19

 Abbalar Tales ~ 19 Return to Corvalen 2

By Len Morgan 

   Aldor awoke and returning to his room recovered his few belongings.   He found to his surprise that Orden had left him a newly forged and exquisitely finished weapon.    It was a broad sword with almost perfect balance.   He made some experimental passes and it seemed to anticipate his intent, dancing almost weightless in his hands.   Orden had equipped it with a holster that fitted his shoulders like a glove; allowing the blade to rest lightly on his back without moving, even when he was in motion - behaving as though it were part of him.  This was obviously the special project Orden had lavished so many hours on.    Beside it was a small skin purse containing 500 Okes, and a note which read: 

Please return this purse to my good friend Wizomi, its contents are to cover your expenses on the homeward journey, you should visit the kitchen before you depart, good fortune friend.  

In the small kitchen, Orden had laid on a feast that Aldor could not resist, after his days of fasting.   It took him an hour to eat his fill and to pack as much of what remained, as he could, to provision his journey.   Then having accepted the gifts he carefully covered Orden with his own cape, the one he had himself so recently discarded, and left the Jellonan sleeping peacefully.   Aldor felt humbled and proud to have known such a humane soul, but most of all privileged to call him a friend.   He was a few miles into his journey before his tears stopped flowing.

A few miles beyond 'the Enchanters Wood' he came upon a horse ranch, the last stopping point, on Wizomi's original list of safe houses.   He had intended leaving his horse there, but he was forced to modify his plan slightly because of Skaa.   This time he would stop off, to buy horses, and enquire about the mount Skaa had promised to stable on his behalf.

"What do I owe you for looking after my horse?" he asked.

"Nothing, the old one paid for a month and, said if you returned earlier I should give you the balance.   He was however lame on arrival and is not yet fully recovered."

"Then he should stay here with you, and I will purchase new mounts for my onward journey."   He gazed back at the mountains, "do those three have names friend?"  He enquired conversationally as the rancher wrote him a receipt.

"They are known locally as Ordens pillars, but I know not why.   Few would go much closer than we are standing now.   The woods surrounding them are very dense and most of the locals maintain they can find many better things to do than Climb Mountains."

"You are not from these parts?"

"No!   I am from the Cheilin Empire, just the other side of the Sabre Tooth Mountains.   On a fine day you can see them breaking the distant horizon, he said shielding his eyes with one hand and pointing due south."

"It seems to be a good day," Aldor said with a smile.

"Now those are real mountains, not 'bum boils' like these," he said gesturing contemptuously over his shoulder - towards 'Ordens pillars'.    "I have placed panniers on both horses; they should contain sufficient feed for two weeks, although these mares will be quite happy to browse if you’re not in too much of a hurry."

He thanked the man and rode away in a Nor-westerly direction.   He soon discovered he could ride all day and all night without apparent fatigue, stopping only to feed and water the horses.   He felt a deep sense of anxiety for Genna and Wizomi, and rode on hard into a second night.   He thought because he still felt fresh the horses would be able to match him.   His overriding need was to return to Mandrell as fast as possible.   He allowed his desire to outweigh his own good sense.   He became oblivious to the needs of his mounts both, unknown to him, were fast approaching exhaustion.

Without warning his mount stumbled and fell, on uneven ground, breaking a leg.   She cried out in pain and terror, all her fear and anger aimed in his direction.   The anguish she felt washed through his mind like a douche of ice water; followed by a stream of incandescent lava, at the very moment she expired.   Big though it had been, he had taxed her heart far beyond its limits.   The raw feelings and emotions were totally unexpected, hitting him like a hammer blow.   Suddenly, he realised what he had done.    His mind recoiled, with guilt, unwittingly moving into the mind of the survivor.  He found no forgiveness there.   Receiving instead, the full force of her deep resentment and anger at the burden he had, selfishly and unthinkingly, placed upon them both.   He started to remount, then felt her quiver beneath him, bringing home to him her true condition.   He knew then, that she too had been overtaxed, and the fault was his alone.   She had been ill-used and was badly in need of rest.   She would not otherwise last another ten miles.   He dismounted and they walked on, side by side, at an easy gait for a further two miles.   As they came within sight of a farmstead, she seemed slightly improved.   He was resolved to purchase new horses anyway and leave her to recover fully.

He was shaken and disturbed.   Nothing had prepared him for his first contact with the minds of other creatures, or the depths of feeling he discovered there.   That was only the beginning and was as nothing to the angry emotions stirred up in the mind of the farmer on seeing the state of the surviving mare.   He did not know there was a second, lying dead two miles down the road, yet he seriously considered refusing to sell mounts to Aldor.   But, when he observed Aldor looking to the needs of his horse - feeding, watering, and rubbing down - before even asking if he might purchase a hot meal for himself, the man had a change of heart.   He agreed to take the mare and return her to her previous owner on condition Aldor took two mounts in her place.   The horses viewed him with trepidation but, accepted his coaxing and soothing mind contact.

Two days away from Mandrell, he was more mindful of the needs of his mounts.   Although he himself seemed not to require sleep to anything like the same degree he had, prior to his conversion.   He now made regular stops to rest his mounts, pressing on as soon as their physical needs had been satisfied.   In addition, he regularly dipped into the clear shallow pools of their minds, to ensure they were happy, contented and experiencing no stress.   During one such foray, he discovered a sense of unease.   He checked the other mount and found that she too was very skittish.   He cast around using his mind like a net.   Something was there, something that was not to their liking.

A few yards further and they sidled to a halt, nickering nervously, despite the calming influence he was lavishing on their minds.   He could sense three men and their three companions – three large dogs - with common thoughts in their minds, fear and hatred for their handlers.   Scanning the minds of the men was not a pleasant act.   They were cruel and self-seeking; they believed it was their right to take what they desired without regard for the lives or feeling of others.   They were here to kill and rob innocent travellers.   They had been doing so for a number of years, to the chagrin of their parents.   It was plain to Aldor that reason would be wasted on them.   Instead, he centred on the hatred in the minds of their beasts.   He enhanced it just sufficiently, prior to the confrontation, to cause the animals to be difficult and unruly.   He dismounted as the three men stepped into his path, each struggling with an enormous dog on a chain leash, fighting to maintain control.   The horses reared up, backing away.   He made soothing noises, reinforcing them with calming thoughts.   They now stood passively as he carefully wrapped their reins in the gnarled branches of an ancient briar.   He turned to face his adversaries.   No words had yet passed between them.   He entered the minds, of each dog, in turn, planting final instructions.

"Should I appeal to your kindly natures?" he asked.  They didn't reply.   He felt sad.   Two large bull-like men, with piggy eyes, started slowly towards him their features twisted cruelly. 

"I really would like to prevent you from taking any action that you would later regret…" he said.

They grinned mirthlessly.   The third, a small man with rat-like features, and feral eyes smiled.  

"Such beautiful gifts you bring me, just the kind of friends I need to protect me on my long journey," said Aldor in a friendly voice.   "How much will they cost me?" 

The small man ignored him & launched into a well-rehearsed script, "You will place your purse and any valuables on the ground before you and walk back to your horses.   If you with-hold anything we will kill you.   If you try to escape we will kill you," he said.

"And, if I resist?" he asked.   There was no answer.   "Don’t  say anything - you will kill me!   Seems you are intent on killing me, one way or another, regardless of what I do,” he said.

"From your attitude, I will assume you do not wish to make this easy," said the little man.

"I think not," Aldor replied.  "But I will make one last offer to spare your lives if you just turn around and walk away."

"KILL!"   Was the little man's answer, and the dogs were released.  

Aldor smiled, as they turned immediately, attacking their handlers.   One of the big men fell heavily and his throat was ripped out before he could raise a hand to protect himself.  

His twin grabbed his attacker by the throat, despite being heavily savaged.   He jerked its head back and twisted viciously, snapping its neck like a twig.  

The little man struggled and kicked frantically, emitting a liquid gurgling scream.   He succeeded in drawing his dagger, stabbing the beast repeatedly in his death throes, soon man and dog lay still in a macabre embrace.   The surviving dog turned to avenge its dead brothers, but Aldor called him off.

The surviving man circled Aldor, drawing his sword, with a wary eye on the remaining dog.   It sat calmly on its haunches observing his discomfort, smelling his fear.   He gleaned all this from its mind and from that of his adversary.  The piggy eyed giant stood there holding his sword like a toothpick and sweating like an ox.

"Your family will be troubling no more hapless travellers," said Aldor reaching slowly over his right shoulder, to grasp the hilt of his sword.   He read murderous intent, in the man’s mind, long before the attack came.   "Murder?" he thought. One swift cut, he never stood a chance.  He wiped the tip of his sword on the heavy cloak his victim had been wearing.   That was it, he'd taken his first life.   He thought of all the things the man might have accomplished, the potential that had been cut off in its prime, tears blurred his vision.

Then he deliberately sheathing his sword, and wiped his eyes, "Come!” he called.

The dog followed as he walked towards the horses.   He turned and the dog came to him, at his mental command, the horses skittish and nervous, he calmed them and introduced the dog whilst petting it fondly.

"Well, what shall we call you?" he asked delving into its mind.   It had been known as 'Bdagg' but it became distinctly nervous when Aldor spoke the name.   "You need a new name," he said watching the big animal gambolling in a verge of large aromatic, late flowering, daisies.   Aldor realised suddenly this was probably the most freedom it had ever been given.   It was then he came to a decision, "Blossom!"   He smiled at his small joke but the dog came running, to the sound of his new name, as though he had never had another.   After a moment’s reflection he spoke, "Ladies, meet our new companion - Blossom!"

 He seemed perfectly happy with the name, and with his new friends, so Blossom it would be.   As he idly stroked the dog he entered its mind, hoping to discover something of his past.   Aldore winced at the cruelty he discovered had been inflicted on Blossom and his kennel mates.   He tried to discover more about the owners, without causing distress, by uncovering unwanted and painful memories.   He travelled slowly back to the dogs earlier years when suddenly he experienced great waves of sadness.   He found himself in a forest glade.   Two enormous dogs the image of Blossom and three tiny pups had been surrounded by a seven-man hunting party armed with bows and spears.   As he watched, the two large dogs were killed and the puppies chained, muzzled, and taken to the hunters' village.

Aldor felt sad, but he knew that packs of wild dogs were dangerous to humans and posed a real threat to isolated communities.   Culling their numbers in this way was therefore not uncommon.   Many hunters would have wiped out the whole pack, including the pups.   In this case, they had at least been afforded an opportunity to live.   What was less admirable was the use they had been put too.   The question was, should he visit their lair and exact retribution or, were these three simply rogues, and not representative of their community.   If so, they would not be missed.   If however, the community was rogue, they would follow and hunt him down, and then at least only the guilty would suffer.   This was after all not his country.

The decision came down to experience and therefore was not really difficult to make.   His priority was, helping his friends, who even now, were captives somewhere in Corvalen.   At the pace he could set, limited only by the speed of his horses, nobody would be capable of catching him.   He was, therefore, a little surprised when a man strolled into his camp, that Blossom recognised on sight.

"You will be joining me I hope?" said Aldor hospitably, proffering a steaming bowl of stew.

The figure stopped beside him, smiled and accepted, "Thank you, I will," he replied.

They sat and ate in silence.   His guest produced a fine bottle of wine and two tumblers.   They wiped out their bowls with rye bread and both had a second helping, washed down with the wine.   After eating their fill they lay back and rested against their packs, silent and content.

Finally, his visitor spoke, matter of fact, in a rather off-hand manner.   "You had a meeting today with two of my sons and their cousin.   You also briefly met the other two members of Blossom's litter…"

"Blossom?   But, how could you know?"

"My name is Ragesh.   You are the 'beast master', I have known of your coming all my life.   I have relived this day hundreds of times since I was a child, it was a recurring dream.   I came here to await your arrival, following the night of the dry storm."

"Ah!" said Aldor.

"They are all dead," said the man continuing.

"I'm sorry Ragesh," said Aldor, gazing down sadly.

"I know how it begins, but not how it ends…   I have killed you many times in my dreams, and at other times I have accepted their loss and gone my way, the ending is never the same, you have never once done harm to me.   When I think on it, I have come to terms with my loss, I am here simply to tell you - It was not your fault!   I know that you shed tears, after killing them, and that is more than I or their mother will do.   We have warned them countless times to mend their ways.   I particularly pleaded with them before coming here.   In the end, it was their choice to attack you," he added.   "You mourned their wasted potential but, just think on the potential of those they would have killed, in the future, had you not taken the action you did?"  

"Thank you for your kindness and understanding" Aldor replied.

"I came here because I wanted you to know, you acted correctly, you are blameless!" said Ragesh.   "Now I must go, I have kin to bury; Blossom will accompany me if you don't object."

"I would consider it to be his decision," Aldor replied, his mind touched briefly with Blossom’s mind the warmth of feeling he displayed, for Ragesh, was undeniable and overwhelming. 

 Aldor bid them both farewell, and watched until they eventually disappeared from sight.

(to be continued)

Copyright Len Morgan