Cheilin Saga ~ 02

 Cheilin Saga ~ 02 Cheilin Horse Breeder 2

By Len Morgan

"Your grasp of the language is excellent Aldor," Wedex commended  "you will however need to be schooled in the etiquette and customs of my people.   Cheilin people are quite fastidious.   Make a wrong move, in public, and you’ll find yourself involved in a fight to the death."

"Wizomi knows the Cheilin Empire and should have carried out this mission but, he had to travel North on another equally important assignment.   So, the people of Cheilin will have to make do with me" said Aldor.   "I need some background knowledge of these people, in order to make them aware of the dangers they will soon be facing; they need to start preparing, immediately."

"You think the Empire is not aware of developments in other states beyond their borders?"

Aldor went silent, as Shamlei handed him a steaming bowl of soup.   Wedex broke off a hunk of fresh dark bread, handing the remainder of the loaf to Aldor.

'Orden, what makes you think the Empire needs help from us?'

'The Tylywoch are few in number.   The Bluttlanders outnumber them a thousand to one.  They cannot call on support from the twelve, and those living outside the Clan enclaves do not possess weapons nor are they trained in the martial arts.  Who else can they turn to?”

"Wedex, are you aware of what they will be facing?" Aldor asked.

"You have never been across those mountains, so what would you know?" Wedex said defensively.

"I have reliable information from an impeccable source.   There are close to two million trained and seasoned soldiers in Bluttland.   If the Tylywoch could muster 200,000 armed and seasoned troops, to defend their homeland, they would only be outnumbered ten to one."

Wedex's face turned pale.   "Intelligence would of course be dispensed on a need to know basis but I would guess the forces available are more likely to be counted in tens rather than hundreds of thousands, but of course this is all speculation.   I cannot conceive of a force that large being raised and mobilised.   The logistics…"

"They would live off the land, burning and pillaging as they went, like a plague of locusts.   You have been living here in the Kurdik states for a number of years.   You have, I assume, sent back information about us?   Indeed it may well be your principal reason for being here.   What would you estimate is our capability to wage war?   How many men would you say we could muster?" Aldor asked.

It was Wedex's turn to go silent.

"I reveal no secrets by telling you that Corvalen has a standing army of ten thousand men,” Aldor continued.   “But, they can call on twenty times that number in a state of emergency.   One in five men are called to train for this force which is tempered in the conflict, between Corvalen and Bycroft, in the disputed territories.   They train for two years then return to civil life but, if called they would be immediately available and ready to fight.   It is each mans responsibility to keep himself armed and in peak physical condition, ready and able to fight and die for the homeland.   There are twenty states, some larger and some smaller than Corvalen.   If you attack a single state, you attack them all; they would stand together as one.   All petty differences set aside for the duration of the conflict.   Existing disputes would be settled, after the conflict is over, reflecting each state's effectiveness and contribution during the emergency," said Aldor.    "If you do the calculations…"

"Two million," said Shamlei, "you could conquer the world with that many men."

"Should we fear Bluttland or the Kurdik States I wonder,” said Wedex.

"We are a third the size of Bluttland and half that of the Cheilin Empire," said Aldor.

"I always thought the Empire was prepared…" said Wedex.

"To be prepared, they need to increase the number of warriors trained and under arms.   This can only be accomplished from outside the clan system," Aldor said with conviction.

"What you say is true, the Clans will not unite but they will fight, individually, if they are attacked or their space is violated," Wedex confirmed.

"In which case, the Tylywoch are indeed Cheilin's only real hope of survival.   They must, in reality, become the 13^th Clan in order to police the lands that are not being administered by the other twelve.   If they can convince the Emperor there is a genuine threat from without, they will have a legitimate excuse to arm and train the fringe communities of the Empire.   This will absolve the Clans from providing costly defences outside of their own borders" said Aldor.

"But, there are no disputed lands on the Borders of our Empire."

"Neither is there a real dispute between Corvalen and Bycroft.   But, the forces of both states are honed on the lie.   Posturing and playing games could never train our forces for real combat" he said’

"The Tylywoch are the eyes and ears of the Empire.   Though small in number, they do not treat security lightly.   They have intelligence-gathering services in all states inside and outside the Empire.   They have always been highly secretive.   Their force was created by the first Emperor Daidan to ensure his personal safety and that of his subjects.   It is said that if an Emperor dies, from other than natural causes, the Tylywoch will be hunted down and put to the sword, every man woman and child would be put to death.   They do not recruit; membership is by birthright and their training starts with their first steps.   It is rumoured that one in five die training before they reach the age of ten," said Wedex.   "Before they speak with you, they would know what significant skills you bring to them.   What they would gain from your involvement and what you would gain from the association.   Before I commit myself to aiding you I would know how you will answer."

"Bluttland and Bedelacq represent the biggest threat we have ever faced.   If the Cheilin Empire falls, its resources will be utilised against the Huren, Meyam, and Kurdik nations, who could not then hold out long.   All freemen would become slaves.   You know me as a 'beast master' but, I am also a coordinator, I make things happen.   I turn dream into reality" said Aldor.

"You have climbed the mountain." said Wedex, grinning at the surprised look on his guests face.  "Eat and drink, I will tell you more and provide you with a written introduction and maps showing the secret passes through the Sabre Tooth Mountain range.   You will be advised to travel a'foot beyond the slopes of the foothills.   I will take you to that point then return with the horses.   Shamlei more wine for our guest, entertain him whilst I attend to a few pressing matters.   A warning, before we become too drunk to remember.   Never reveal your gift to anybody in the Cheilin Empire.   Heed my warning Aldor, and it will ultimately save your life".

Wedex departed leaving him to explore the large rambling wood and stone-built house.   There were two large glazed windows that distorted everything on the outside.   Exquisite leatherwork and burnished bronze tack hung on every wall, all the fittings handcrafted.   Shamlei entered the room silently, with a large carafe of fine red wine.   By the light of a flickering fire, it seemed that her hair had been spun from the same copper used to furnish the ornate leatherwork, at times it seemed to be aflame.

"We make our tack during the dark winter evenings and when the weather is particularly foul" she explained as though reading his mind.   A quick mind scan revealed otherwise.    However, she did not entirely trust him.   There were walls in place, in her mind, indicating basic mind control techniques, the ability to hide areas of her mind, and thoughts, she did not wish to share with him.   He had never consciously violated the privacy of another mind; so he withdrew before his presence was detected.

"It is very sophisticated work, you should be proud of it," he said with a warm smile.

"More wine?" she countered.

He held out his goblet and she poured, her eyes never leaving his.  

"Is your mother still here?" he asked.

"She remains in Cheilin, though I doubt she would acknowledge either of us.   My father was adjudged to be a vile aberration, because of his gift, and I was adjudged tainted by blood.  We were exiled forever from the lands of the 1^st Clan, under pain of death should we ever go back.   Mother was permitted to remain and the marriage was annulled, it was adjudged to have been flawed, which allowed her to remarry within the year.   We have not seen or heard from her in sixteen years, not since we crossed the range and settled here.   Father buys stock in many places and gathers wild horses from the foothills.   I run things here at the ranch whilst he is away with his men," she explained.

Wedex returned, handing him a sealed document, "What you are to do with this will become apparent when you arrive at your destination" he said.   Then, Spreading a map on the low table between them, he lit and trimmed a lamp, proceeding to explain the intricacies of the higher mountain passes; warning Aldor of the effects of the thin air he would encounter close to the summit.

"Once you are in those passes, your life is in your own hands.   There are some treacherous paths, where heavy rainfall can become a waterfall, or create slippery watercourses, causing the unwary to plunge hundreds of feet to their death.  Then there is always snow and ice on the peaks, each providing its own unique form of danger.   Ice may become thin and give way under your feet.   Just raising your voice can cause an avalanche that will bury you alive in an instant.   Then of course there are bands of brigands who eke out a living by preying on unsuspecting travellers, so be on your guard.

(to be continued)

Copyright Len Morgan

 NEW TIMES NOW

by Richard Banks          

                                

I was, my mother once told me, a reluctant baby in no hurry to leave the warmth and safety of her womb.  That may explain why I have always preferred a bath to a shower. Why rush what should be a pleasure, a chance to savour again that untroubled time before the uncertain transition to a strange and unknown world.

         Thirty-six years on, the good times have far outweighed the bad. I have been fortunate, unaffected by war, disease , or famine. My life has been unremarkable, often dull, but the quiet certainty to which I have become accustomed is something I value above everything else.

         Jenny is in the kitchen, the engine room she calls it, cooking dinner, her still slim figure almost hidden by the steam rising from several saucepans on the hob. It’s pasta night, as it is every Friday. What could be better than bucatini or spaghetti with a glass or two of Chianti? In our lounge/diner Lucy and Kate are examining the presents under the Christmas tree squeezing the ones with their names on, guessing what is hidden beneath the brightly coloured wrapping paper. When they were younger they would sometimes open a particularly intriguing parcel before attempting to reinstate its covering. Now they understand that the unwrapping of presents must wait until Christmas morning and never before the ringing of my alarm clock.

         They should be setting the table but as usual, they have forgotten, distracted by the lure of more interesting things. Jenny peers through the serving hatch and with feigned annoyance expresses surprise that nothing has been done. But within minutes everything is done, Lucy fetches the tablecloth from the linen cupboard and spreads it unevenly over the dining table while Kate takes spoons and forks from the cutlery drawer and, with studied concentration, places them on the tablecloth. She knows that the forks must always go on the left which is the same side as her writing hand. She is seven now, her sister six, babies no more. They sit up at the table as Jenny brings in their meals.

         Six o’clock tea is a good time, especially on a Friday, and this Friday is no ordinary Friday,  tomorrow is Christmas Day. Jenny raises her glass. “Bon Appetite,” she says and the girls do the same with their tumblers of lemonade. I smile but say nothing. Now is a time for eating, conversation is for later, but for once it is not long in coming.

         Kate clears her plate and discards her spoon with a clatter onto the center of her plate. “What is happening tomorrow?” she asks.

         Jenny explains for the seventh or eighth time that Father Christmas will come, as he always does, and that once she and Lucy are washed and dressed they will be allowed to open all their presents.

         “And then,” Jenny continues, “as a special treat we are all going with Uncle Ben to a lovely restaurant for Christmas lunch.”

         Kate pushes out her lips in sullen displeasure. “Why can’t we have dinner here?”

         She looks towards me as though seeking my intervention but since the ending of our marriage there is nothing I can do or say. This is her mother’s call and for a while, at least, she will decide what is best for herself and the girls. I am sad but wish no sadness for them. No, I must not be sad. It is Christmas Eve and once again I am able to share the warmth of their company in a friendly familiar place.

         Jenny wards off further discussion on the subject of Christmas lunch by saying that it has been booked, so of course they are going. They should be pleased that Uncle Ben has invited them to such a posh restaurant. She adds, somewhat unconvincingly, that there is no more food in the house and that if they don’t go to the restaurant they will have nothing to eat all day.

         “Is there no ice cream?” asks Lucy, her face a picture of despair.

         Jenny concedes that there might still be some ice cream left and departs to the kitchen to find it. She returns with dessert bowls, spoons, and a tub of Caramel Swirl. It is their favourite dessert and thoughts of Christmas lunch are temporarily forgotten. As they finish, Jenny turns on the television; a distraction is needed and instantly provided by a Christmas edition of the Simpsons. I watch it with the girls while Jenny clears the table and loads the dishwasher in the kitchen. She peers through the serving hatch and seeing them absorbed in the adventures of Bart and Lisa quietly makes a phone call on her mobile. I resist the temptation to move closer to the serving hatch and eavesdrop on the conversation taking place. There is no point, I know who she is talking to, and the words they are speaking I should not be hearing; better to watch the Simpsons with the two little girls sitting in front of me on the carpet. The program ends and Kate switches channels until she finds another cartoon. Jenny returns to the lounge and sits down beside me on the settee. She studies the TV guide and informs the girls that ‘Strictly’ will soon be starting and that once it is finished they must get ready for bed. Tonight is the final. For six weeks the various contestants have battled it out until only two couples remain. The presenter is not unlike Jenny; she is wearing a white dress. Automatically my eyes turn towards the photograph of our wedding on the wall above the fireplace, but it is gone replaced by one of her and the girls. The snapshot of me in the hall still remains but is seldom noticed. In time it too will disappear into the cupboard under the stairs, out of sight and largely out of mind.

         Am I angry? No. This is the way it has to be. What is done is done and can’t be undone. Memories that give no pleasure must be forgotten, discarded. Life is about today and tomorrow, never the past. Jenny knows this. Her future and that of the girls is uncertain but she is determined that through the choices she makes all will be well.

         Will one of those choices be Ben? Only time will tell. They have been dating for only three months, but if he were to propose what would she say? He is charming, reasonably good-looking, and apparently not short of money. Let’s hope there is more to him than that.

         ‘Strictly’ comes to a triumphant end and Jenny switches off the TV. Having quelled the usual protests she ushers the girls upstairs into the bathroom where they clean their teeth and change into their pyjamas. Once they would run back to me for hugs and kisses but now they go straight to their beds. Jenny reads them a story and they settle down beneath their duvets determined to fall asleep before Santa calls. She returns to the lounge and pours herself another glass of wine. She is pensive, lost in thought, she tries to read but turns only two pages of a chic lit novel. We sit in silence not wanting to turn on the television lest it disturbs the girls.

         We have much to say to each other, but nothing that can be spoken. I want to tell her that it’s OK, that I understand, life changes, so must she. Would she say the same to me? I think she would. So why do I linger? Is it that we never said goodbye or am I, yet again, the reluctant baby? One year after the accident that ended my life I should be away, but the warmth and comfort of much loved people in a familiar place has more attraction than the unknown place beyond.

         Jenny peers into the girls’ bedroom and finds them asleep. There are Christmas stockings to fill, clothes to be ironed, an extra present to wrap and label. At eleven thirty she turns off the lounge light and departs for bed. Tomorrow she will be woken by the sound of my alarm clock and the excited cries of our children. By then I will be gone. Where I am bound I don’t know, only that it is a new beginning, that death, like birth, is a part of life and that in life I may be born again. On Christmas Eve I am filled with hope.

 

Copyright Richard Banks

FOUR WALLS & IT'S SPORT!

 

FOUR WALLS - A SHORT HISTORY OF COVID

By Rosemary Clarke

Four walls
Oppressed
Not at
Your best
Same as
The rest
Put to
The test
Let be alone.

Closed up
At home
No more
To roam
Friends only phone.

Open
All doors
Freedom
Is yours!
Breathe and
Be free!
Happy we'll be!

 

IT'S SPORT!

By Rosemary Clarke

As a kid
Dad takes you to your first match.
Now at home
You kick balls not play catch.
Now you're grown
You still support your team.
Watch them go
Up the lead board of dreams.
Stay loyal!
Buy each piece of kit
They're royal
You don't like it when they're hit.
Feel so proud

You start to chant their song
In the crowd
Feeling nothing can go wrong.

Copyright Rosemary Clarke

 Ageing pt. 2.

By Natalie Hudson 

I look in the mirror

Is that a grey hair?

Oh no, it's a white one

Not much difference there

And wrinkles, a few now

Not deep, but a trace

Of time and experience

Etched on my face

It's getting much harder

To keep off the weight

So I have to be conscious

Of what's on my plate

I get out of bed 

Each day when I wake 

And all of my joints 

And my back start to ache

My bladder is not

What it used to be

I have to be quicker

When I need to wee

I can't drink as much 

As I guzzled before

The hangover lasts 

And my head hurts much more

But I feel more at ease

With the thoughts in my mind 

My morals, my ethics

I've not left behind 

So bring on the ageing 

Let's embrace the change

It's happening anyway

It's nothing too strange

 

Copyright Natalie Hudson

Abbalar Tales ~ 01 Cheilin Saga

 Cheilin Saga ~ 1 Cheilin Horse Breeder

By Len Morgan

"You’re not welcome here!" 

Aldor saw the unwavering bow, flexed and aimed directly at his torso.   The slightest relaxation of a sinew, in either index or forefinger, would see the heavy barbed shaft buried in his intestines.    It would be easier to turn and ride away, but he could not do that.   He rode instead to within spitting distance of the hard faced Cheilin horse breeder.   Resting easy in the saddle he conferred a friendly smile on the man, studiously avoiding sudden movements, whilst displaying a confidence he did not feel.  The man was perfectly within his rights to refuse access to his property and it was not unusual, in these parts, for a landowner to see off a trespasser at the point of a weapon.    Over the man’s shoulder, less than half a mile away, he could see ‘the Enchanters Woods' carpeting the foothills of the small mountain range he knew as Orden’s Pillars.  

   Orden would be watching his every move and chuckling with amusement, at his discomfort.   The two horses stood their ground; the eyes of their riders locked in a silent battle of wills.   Time passed, and neither chose to blink or look away.

 "You are a cruel evil man; you’re no longer welcome here on my property," the man repeated, "if you value your life you will leave now while you are still able."

Without visible reaction Aldor scanned his mind, discovering immediately why the man hated him so, and felt an overwhelming need to explain.   "My friends were in mortal danger; I needed to get to them as quickly as possible.   I pushed myself, and the horses both, beyond safe limits and regrettably one of them died.   I immediately eased up, on the surviving mare, changing her for two fresh mounts at the very next farm we chanced upon.   I even paid the farmer extra to return her to you when she was rested.   Do these mounts I have with me look distressed or ill-used?" he reasoned.   "My great sin was my inability to judge the stamina of the horses.   I cannot redress that error, but I can assure you it will never happen again."

He glowered at Aldor, through hooded eyes, and slowly the heavy horn bow relaxed.   "I cannot believe that you allowed it to happen once, a repetition would be inhuman.   Are you an animal?"  

Aldor shook his head, “no I am not, but I am loyal to my friends” he lowered his gaze in contrition; the man did not need to read thoughts to know the truth in those words, and with them, Aldor conceded the moral high ground.

Aldor continued his explanation, "three weeks ago, a man dubbed me 'beast master'.   Had I been aware of that ability two days earlier, your friends would not have suffered as they did and, the mare would be living still."

"Ragesh called it true then?   You killed his sons, but it was not your fault, he told me what happened and of his dreams."

"They were your friends?" Aldor asked his surprise self-evident.

"Hardly, they were thieves and murderers both.   Their father cannot explain why he allowed them to live unchallenged for so long, or why he could not summon the courage to kill them himself."

"Then…" Aldor began.

"Yes, a ‘beast master’ would indeed be aware of an animals suffering.   So, tell the chain of events that awakened your gift?" he said.

"For the last two hours, before it happened, I rode in a daze from lack of sleep.   Then, the horse stumbled and fell.   Her death cries were filled with anger and rage, at me for being the instrument of her passing.   All those emotions flowed into my mind at once; it was a shock to be scourged so, from deep within me, for unwitting wrongs.   Instantly my new senses were awakened as though they had always been there, but in a dormant state, waiting for that precise moment.   Then, after her death, I had to live with the constant brooding resentment of the survivor.   I rested and cared for her but she continued to sear my mind with accusations, every bit as painful as a branding iron.   No man has ever had cause to upbraid me so.”

"That is how it would be," the older man confirmed.    “Do you…" he hesitated, "do you also detect human emotions?"

"You…?"   Aldor started in surprise, and then stopped, leaving the words unspoken.

"Yes," he nodded.    "I birthed that mare, and trained her to give years of loyal unstinting service.   It was immediately evident to me that you possessed the gift, though you were unaware of it.   I should have checked before I sold them to you.   I should have said something; warned you.   She was accustomed to communicating with her rider, as she died she cried out to me also.   I experienced it just as you described but, her anger was aimed at me, she felt I had betrayed her.   I was incensed, momentarily blinded to what I had not done, I pursued you intent on you’re destruction.   For no other reason than to salve my own conscience because of what I had allowed you to do.   I set off riding hard, until I was forced to ease up, because my mount was beginning to flag, and that was when I met him; Ragesh.   His fire was hot, his stew aromatic, and he stood there as if he had been waiting for me; which of course he had.   He offered me a steaming bowl, which I accepted, without a word spoken.  Then at length, after washing up, we sat and drank a most delightful bottle of wine.   Only then did he speak, but it was as you would talk to a friend you had known for many years.   Talking with you now, I am better able to understand what he was telling me.   “Wedex” he said, “everything that transpires between Aldor yourself and me has happened, many times before, in my dreams.   Had you known what was to come you could not have changed the course of events not even the tiniest detail.”  He told me I should go home to my family and await your imminent return.   He also promised me I would learn to forgive."

"Can you find it in your heart to forgive me now?"   Aldor asked.

The man shook his head, "there is nothing for me to forgive, I was the guilty person."

"Nobody was to blame" said Aldor in a quiet voice, “Heed the words of Ragesh, he is an accomplished seer, he knew me well, long before I was born, you too I’ll be bound.”   He thought he detected tears on Wedex’s cheeks, and felt embarrassed, but the man turned away from him so he continued speaking, to allow the man to regain his composure.   "My friend Wizomi, whom I believe you know, was one of those in danger.   The other was a young woman who is very dear to me."   He offered Wizomi's letter of introduction and the letter of credit bearing the 'Sun and two Crescents' design.

The horse breeder shouldered his bow replacing the arrow in its quiver, then he took the documents and, after a cursory glance, handed them back.  

"Follow me,” he said “supper will soon be ready.   Do I call you Aldor?   My daughter will want to know," he explained.

"Aldor is the name I am known by, and you of course are Wedex."

"That is so, my daughter is called Shamlei.   What of your friends, did you arrive in time to help them?"

"Yes, the sacrifice was not in vain.   They are both well thank you, but the future was very uncertain at that point in time, had I not arrived when I did, history may well have taken a different course."

"Then, why have you returned so soon?"

"I have been told I am needed in the Cheilin Empire."    He went on to explain about the potential assault, by the fanatical followers of Bedelacq, from Bluttland in the East. 

"If, as I have been told, the twelve clans are constantly squabbling, and incapable of working together an alternative force must be assembled to protect your Empire from external attack.   I have been told there is a sect, known as the Tylywoch, capable of providing the nucleus of such a force.   Do you know of them?"

"Yes.   You need my help with this?" he asked.

"Yes...”

 

(To be continued)

 

Copyright Len Morgan

  Spring

By Jane Scoggins

 

Then gusts the blustery wind

Shaking confetti petals from the tree

And April turns to May

With blossoms for the sipping bee.

 

Copyright Jane Scoggins

Personal Well-being: 10

  Personal Well-being: How to relax

By Barefoot Medic

When I feel tense, or get muscle cramps, I recall the teachings of the comedian Bernie Winters who said he learned how to relax by watching his St.Bernard Schnorbitz: 

The dog stretched long and slow, tensing every muscle even neck face & scalp.  Then he relaxed each muscle slowly so he could tell the difference between tense and relaxed.

Bernie said he would lay on his back, close his eyes, tense every muscle for up to a minute, then slowly relax them:

"Feet feet go to sleep."  He would feel his toes and feet relax further.

"Calves calves fall in halves."  After a time his calves would begin to relax.

"Thighs thighs go to bye-byes."  He would wait patiently until his thighs relaxed.

"Pelvis pelvis make like Elvis!" 

"Tummy tummy flat like mummy"

"Chest chest take a rest."

Hands, lower arms, upper arms, neck, face, and brain; he had a rhyme for each.  As he lay there a mist would swirl in his closed eyes and he would try to see through it. 
Breathe in deeply to a count of ten, then exhale until it would be uncomfortable to continue.  Repeat five times...

At this point I invariably fall asleep; if not I will roll over onto my left side in the recovery position and drop off to sleep in minutes.

 I find it particularly helpful when my mind keeps running over the events of a busy day; what went right, what went wrong, what should I have said/done!?  

After ten to fifteen minutes my mind is clear, it's easy just so long as you don't think of a pink rhinoceros with a beach ball 😖...