Tylywoch ~ 26

Tylywoch ~ 26  The Search & Some History 

 By Len Morgan

His eyes opened, with a start, clouds obscured the sun.   A solitary Tylywoch (crow) sounded its presence.   It was much later in the day! He'd planned to be on the opposite slope of this stark hillside before nightfall.   He resigned himself now to spending a second night in the foothills.   What happened?   Had he fallen asleep he wondered, aware of the persistent caw above him, he gazed up.   As his eyes fixed on the source of his sudden awakening his vision blurred, he was looking down on himself as if seeing through the eyes of the bird.

Off to his left, he saw two figures closing on his position under cover of rock spurs and scrub.   To his right he spotted two more, under cover, waiting.   Behind him the sheer face fifteen feet high and the cave mouth.   Facing him was a narrow gully bordered with loose boulders and jagged spurs jutting up like rotten teeth.   The figures were stalking him; he blinked and found himself back on solid ground.   If he acted quickly, he would be out of sight of both groups.   He darted across the narrow hunter's track into the gully heading for the tallest outcrop.   He turned to look back, glimpsing a darting figure disappear behind one of the many boulders.   He realised too late, it was a blind gully he continued along it as far as he could in the hope of finding a defensible position.   One moment his path was clear the next it was blocked by a young woman dressed in soft tanned leather; mountain clothes.   He walked directly towards her, but she wasn't phased, she did not step aside.   Instead, she drew a sword from a shoulder scabbard.    She was slight but well balanced, juggling the blade adeptly from hand to hand, displaying a confidence and familiarity with the weapon that made him instantly wary.   Turning away from her he saw two young men, also clad in leather, barring his retreat back along the gully.   He hadn't heard them and was visibly surprised and irritated by their close proximity.   They smiled in obvious amusement.   Each held a long bow, levelled at his chest, their bowstrings were slackened but he had the impression they could lose a shaft much faster than he could cover the intervening ten yards.

His eyes narrowed.   He was angry with himself, for not being alert, he shouldn't have allowed it to happen.   He sensibly turned his anger on them for stalking him with such disregard.   He slowly drew his dark blade and backed towards the nearest spur of rock to protect his rear.   He smiled without mirth and stood waiting for the inevitable attack.   Though three to one were formidable odds, he thought immortality would surely tip the odds in his favour. 

"I hope I will not have to kill you all to teach you the error of this action," they looked at each other and smiled, "you're young and potentially have long lives ahead of you, look the other way whilst I continue my journey in peace."   They smiled in amusement but didn't reply.   "I have not yet killed, and I don't particularly want to start now…" 

"Shut up!" said the young woman "You're burbling…   If we'd wanted you dead, we'd be burying you now not talking."

A fourth man appeared from behind a rock, "Jax, isn't it?   Master swordsmith late of Hartwell?"   He drew his sword. "If you can make blades half as fine as does Terrek, we have sore need of your services." 

Jax smiled as he viewed the sword in the hand of the man who knew so much about him.   "If your measure is the blade you are holding, it was made by me." He replied, "the pommel design is uniquely mine.   How many swords do you require?"

"Thousands!" was the reply.

Jax laughed, "It would take me fifteen years to produce that many even if I had the inclination, which I don't…"

"Terrek said you're a fair swordsman, and that you might be difficult, we do not wish to fight.  We would hate to cause you injury, but the West needs your help and if that is what is needed to persuade you then so be it..." He said pointedly with a shrug and an easy smile. 

"So what is the big emergency?" 

"The Bluttland forces is massing at Tain point on the far shore of the Stalbech.   They plan to take advantage of the political unrest they have stirred up in the Cheilin Empire; now verging on civil war.   They intend to strike out across the water and establish a bridgehead from which to launch an offensive into the heart of the empire.   The Clans will defend their home territories but will not release troops to defend the crossing point.   That job falls by default to the 13^th Clan; the Tylywoch.   It has for many years been our policy to train all non-Clan peoples to use weapons.   We have the manpower but only one in three can be armed from our existing store of weapons.   All smiths in the empire are being coerced into forging swords, amongst them Terrek, who suggested that you may have ideas to speed up the production.   Are you his son?" 

"Why do you ask?"

"You both have the same characteristics, blue eyes and pale hair." 

"Yes we are related, and yes assuming you speak true, I know of a place. Somebody who could produce blanks, that we can finish in a fraction of the time, but the price…" 

"Finance you can leave to us, we only require your skill." 

"And, how would they be transported?  But that is not my problem, I am on my way to the Eternal City…" 

"You would be well advised to postpone your trip at this time, can it not wait until the Empire is safe, we urgently need your services, and we will pay handsomely…"

"It is not a question of money." 

"Ah!  An affair of the heart perhaps?" said the young woman with a knowing smile that irritated him, because she'd gone straight for the heart. 

"How long do we have?" asked Jax ignoring the question and the ensuing smiles.

"Approximately two weeks, mayhap a month at most…"

"A month?   You jest with me, it's not nearly enough time, and where will they need to be delivered?" 

"They are needed at fort Stokk thirty miles North East of the 4^th Clan border in the East.   It's a hundred miles from their proposed landing sites, if the Blutt try taking Stokk they will be overextended and we will crush them.   Yet it's within two days forced march." 

"Why not simply prevent their landing?" Jax asked.

"Oh believe me we will try, but there are over three hundred miles of wild coastline to be defended along the Stalbech.   The terrain is difficult to traverse rapidly or defend in depth with the forces at our disposal.   They have priests and priestesses able to communicate over long distances.   If a beachhead is established, they will all be heading in that direction, in minutes, to consolidate the position.  We are so unprepared, and we will be outnumbered ten to one.   Possibly, with hostile Clans at our backs."

"Who!" asked Jax incredulously.

"Certainly the 9^th Clan, and possibly others they may have turned.  It will depend on the depth of infiltration that has taken place.   If we pull forces from key positions to throw them back, other areas will be left unguarded.   So, eventually, we will have to concede..."

"You may as well surrender now with that attitude," his anger evident, "do you think I'm going to labour long and hard to produce superior weapons to hand over to our enemies?    You might as well surrender now and save me the effort, honestly what is the point?" he shook his head turning away in exasperation.

"Believe me we will not surrender or retreat one step, they will have to kill us all.   I'm just presenting you with the reality of our situation.   We need a miracle!   But of course, you can't help us, you're too busy chasing after a pretty young woman eh?" 

"One miracle coming up," he said under his breath.   

.-...-.

Jax closed his eyes and pictured Terrek's forge. 

"I see you have made a start brother," he spoke to Terrek, mind to mind. 

"It seems we have a dilemma which cannot be resolved without the aid of Orden." Terrek thought.

"Can we reach him?" Jax asked.

"You already have."  Orden joined the conversation.

"If you can supply us with blanks, we can finish them.   But, we will need others to furnish them.   Also, carriers to transport and deliver your blanks to Hartwell and the finished swords to Stokk" Jax continued. 

"There are people in Hartwell who can fit guards and grips, transport is a job for the Tylywoch," Aldor joined the conversation. 

"Aldor?"

"You have spoken with Aldor before?" Orden asked.

"No," Jax replied.   "I've heard the name somewhere." 

"Yes," thought Aldor.  Jax may well be here today thanks to prompt action taken by Tylywoch on a lonely mountain track near to Sudoren, the place he calls home.  

.-...-.

   Sixteen years ago, we found a young woman in an advanced state of pregnancy who had been viciously beaten, raped, and left for dead.   She was taken to the Inn at Sudoren by two warriors whilst Malik and I followed her attackers.   We made contact, as I recall, late mid-morning on the second day of our pursuit.   There were a dozen of them, and they were not common criminals.   A fact we had suspected since we first saw the tracks left by their horses.   If they rode at all, common criminals would ride hardy mountain ponies short stocky and unshod.   These men rode thoroughbred horses with long stride patterns and steel-shod hooves, 'not common mounts for use in the mountains' said Aldor.   They were liveried professional soldiers, with due respect, so we followed them until nightfall when they made camp.   They had been disguised, now they threw off their nondescript civilian clothing.   We watched a man, who having checked the path for pursuit, entered the camp and stripped off his over shirt, adding it to the blazing fire.

"That’s Kurdik royal house livery." Whispered Malik.  "Obviously there has been a cull in one of their Royal houses.   A leader has died, and the firstborn has decided to rid himself of his rivals, he is killing his father's wives and children to ensure his clean succession to the throne.   Are we to let them get away with this?" 

Aldor smiled inwardly, Malik never minced words he was fiery and passionate about upholding the law.   His view was that, if you allow one transgression to pass, even from outside the Empire, the floodgates would open.  The Kurdik guards were obviously contemptuous of local law and customs, and completely unconcerned with possible pursuit, or they would have kept going at full speed until they were across the border. 

The Tylywoch way is not to simply rush in hot-blooded, but to employ stealth and minimise the potential risk to themselves.   They did not glorify killing or consider it a way of life, it was at times simply a necessity.   They therefore refused to recognise or subscribe to any rules of chivalry governing the conduct of conflict…   At the end of the day, dead is dead!   All they concern themselves with is accomplishing their goal! 

The sensible path was simply to slit their throats whilst they slept, but where was the gain in that?  Neither the wrongdoers nor their masters would learn anything from it.   Two hours before dawn they silenced the three guards.   Then, moved swiftly through the camp decapitating every other warrior, and placing his head between his legs.   Seven died.  The four remaining, would have bad dreams for the rest of their lives.   The notes written in Kurdik and pinned to the survivors' chests read:

Cheilin justice is swift, for criminals, and those who pay them.   Tell your master to check under his bed in future, before falling asleep, or he may never wake up!

On their return to Sudoren, they entered the common room at the inn, in silence, and the occupants knew by their demeanour that justice had been done. 

.-...-.

"How fares the woman?" Aldor enquired.

The inn-keep shook his head. 

Aldor slumped into one of the many trestle benches, his elbows on his knees, allowing his head to fall into his hands as he contemplated the spotless scrubbed board floor. 

"There were a dozen after that one defenceless woman, we allowed four to go free as a warning to their master, not to use Cheilin as their personal killing ground."

The inn-keep nodded without reply.   Somewhere in the inn complex a baby cried.   

"At least the child survived," Aldor observed. 

"My wife has organised his feeding, she is quite taken with him, she named him Jax..." 

" A fine name," said Aldor "Mistress Karpe is a good woman.   Does she plan to keep him?" 

The inn-keep nodded again. 

"I thought as much.   Do the people of Sudoren know how to keep a secret?"

"Not all know when to be silent if that's what you mean?" 

"Under the circumstances, it would be expedient to invent a different scenario to explain his acquisition," Aldor said pointedly. 

"Why!   He was abandoned, left on the kitchen stoop." The inn-keep said grinning mischievously. 

.-...-.

They were introduced and exchanged news, Aldor quickly explained to Jax how the Tylywoch and the quads worked.   "The group you are currently with are 'Fire quad' led by Bran the controller, Galein the young woman is a healer, whilst Uvlan and Plavin are warriors."

  "She didn't look as if she was planning to heal me!" said Jax ruefully, "quite the reverse." He smiled inwardly. 

                                              .-...-.

"Are you OK?" she enquired in a concerned voice. 

"Thank you yes Galein.   How long was I absent?" He asked.

"You mumbled something about needing a miracle, then you went stiff for about a minute, how did you know my name?" 

"Aldor.   You are Fire quad Bran, Galein, Uvlan, & Plavin." 

"He's Uvlan, I'm Plavin (the handsome one)," said the shorter warrior completely unfazed. 

"Well let's get back to Hartwell, Others will soon be arriving, some with wagons, to transport non-existent weapons, and others to furnish blades when Terrek and I have finished them.  Others will be bringing us blanks, as we speak, look lively we only have weeks to get ready for the party."   He smiled and clapped Bran on the shoulder. 

"You heard the man, let’s get moving," Bran echoed. 

(To be continued)

                                                                                    Copyright Len Morgan 

 DESTINY

Peter Woodgate

Malcolm was dreaming, he felt soft kisses all over his face and arms.

He woke up, opened his eyes, and stared at the ceiling. Bloody fan has been left on again, he thought, what a waste of electricity. I’ve told her so many times, “it won’t cool you down, it just moves warm air around the room.”

Malcolm glanced left, his wife was fast asleep, and, for a moment, he thought about turning it off. “Better not, I’d probably wake her up

 in the process and that would be a disaster.”

He continued to stare at the ceiling and his mind wandered as the soft hum and movement of the blades drew him up and through the pulsating fan.

In a flash, he was jettisoned from Earth and past the moon, “I must be travelling at the speed of light” he gasped as the planet Mars loomed in front of him.

Malcolm had always been interested in astronomy and, on favourable nights, (usually when it was cold and the sky was clear), you would find him, with his telescope, out in the garden.

 It was since his retirement, some 30 years previous that he had put all his energy into keeping himself busy, unfortunately, as the years flew by, he found his body could not keep up with his brain.

He was frustrated and grumpy, “who said retirement was bliss” he would repeat to himself, “bloody idiots. Was I put on this Earth simply to play my part in ensuring that the human race would continue. No, there is a bloody big Universe out there and I would like some answers, I refuse to lay down and act like an 80-year-old is expected to.

So, here he was, rushing towards Mars at the speed of light, Then, he was past the Red Planet hurtling towards the asteroid belt playing “dodge the rock” before passing through on his way to the “gas giants” of Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune. He was gaining speed as he passed the sad looking demoted Pluto.

Once, when discovered, was crowned as a minor planet but now reduced to satellite status and pushed aside by the recently discovered mystery planet nine.

Malcolm could hardly believe his eyes as he burst through the Milky Way and, grateful he had not been sucked in by a Black Hole, made his way past areas where stars are born, these are given the names Crab and Horsehead Nebulas. His head was now in a spin as he encountered Pulsars Supernovas and distant galaxies of all shapes and sizes.

But why, he’s thinking, what is it all for? Perhaps it is to teach me that I am unable to explain what has been displayed before me. The sheer size and beauty

Of the canvas stretched out for all to see, yet, unexplainable.

It appears, perhaps, I should be resigned to accepting my fate and trust what I am unable to alter.

 

Malcolm was awake again and opened his eyes, the fan was still on, it had all been a dream. A dream perhaps yet a warning, did he need to alter his thinking?

Suddenly a voice broke his thoughts. Happy Birthday Darling, I’ll go and make a cup of tea and you can come down and open your present.

Still feeling rather bemused by his recent dreams Malcom trudged downstairs and was greeted, in the lounge, by a rather large and heavy box, no doubt from Amazon. Was he ecstatic as his present was unpacked? Well, yes and no.

The negative thought was “another bloody assembly Job” the positive “it was a fire pit.” Malcolm had often remarked on how lovely it would be to have a fire outside whilst drinking a pint or two in the colder autumn evenings.

“Well, what do you think about that then,” his wife smiled whilst handing him a cup of tea. “Ah, that’s great,” Malcolm replied whilst juggling thoughts within his head. The present, on the face of it, would appear a truly thoughtful gift, even though he did not relish the assembly.

However, Malcolm's mind was on the march again.

Conversely could this be an attempt, by his wife, to give him a taste of his destiny.

What do you think?

Copyright Peter Woodgate  

 

Personal Wellbeing ~ 22

 Daily Body Maintenance Routine (for 60+)

 The Barefoot Medic

I’m not a smart arse!  I just know that because I exercise each organ, muscle, & sinew daily my health will be as good as it can be, at 77.  I’ve exercised this way daily since 2012 (10 years) and I'm confident that I will still be doing it at 90 (if I live that long).

 

It’s really not an arduous routine, my aim is to work as many muscles and organs as I can, daily. 

 The axiom is: 'If you don't use it you lose it!'  

If you wish to join me you will need to put aside ten minutes (10) daily; the time it takes to make and drink a cuppa…

Even better news, you don't have to do it all at once, you can spread it through the day.  It's like car maintenance, check that everything works, on a daily basis.  You only have one body, so look after it!

In addition, you will need to take the dog for a walk, daily.  Walking is an excellent form of exercise; leave the car at home!

"Never lay if you can sit!  Never sit if you can stand!  Never stand if you can walk!  Never walk if you can run!  But, do everything in moderation..."

 

.-…-.

 

 1:  I do 20 Faux push-ups resting my hands on the kitchen sink feet 2 feet away (you can do 10, or less of these) don’t over-exert!  This is not exercising as such, just body maintenance.  Some you can do some you cannot; do what you can…

 

 2:  Then 20 leg stretches hands on the kitchen sink bend at the knees then straighten (you can do 10, or less) don’t over-exert!

 

 3:  Then 20 arm raises (alternate arms); include 10 with clenched fists (do what you can)

 

 4:  Then 20 side arm stretches include 10 with clenched fists (dwycan).

 

 5:  Then 20 shoulder taps (bend arms to touch shoulders), 10 with clenched fists (dwycan)

 

 6:  Legs apart 10 alternate arms reach down to your knees stretching at the waist to either side (dwycan).

 

 7:  Feet together repeat 6: above.  Reach down to your knees, clenched fists, stretching your waist to alternate sides (dwycan).

 

 8:  Feet together, do tummy rolls 10 clockwise, then 10 the opposite way.

 

 9:  Bend your knees and place your hands on them and roll them 10 times clockwise, then 10 the opposite way.

 

10:  Then 10 times raise straight arms from your side, touching above your head, then down, finishing behind your back.

 

11:  Then 10 times roll arms slowly (forward butterfly stroke, straight elbows) 5 with clenched fists.

 

12:  Then 10 times roll arms slowly (reverse butterfly motion, straight elbows) 5 with clenched fists.

 

13:  Stand 18 inches from a wall, arms by your side, and bend slowly back at the waist until your head touches the wall (to a count of 10).

 

14:  Turn and place hands on the wall, bent elbows, your feet should remain in contact with the floor.  Shake your legs (thighs & calves) to a count of 10.

 

15:  10 times: Swivel at the waist whilst throwing arms from side to side in a swatting/punching motion.

 

16:  10 times: Swivel at the waist whilst punching your elbows behind you (side to side) at shoulder height alternately ~ left then right ~ with clenched fists.

 

17:  10 times: hands behind back (supporting) bend forward at waist 45 degrees or as near as possible straight knees (down~up, down~up).

 

18:  10 times: Legs 3ft apart, turn to face left, lean forward (weight over the left knee) bend & flex knee to the count.

 

19:  10 times: Legs 3ft apart, turn to face right, lean forward (weight over the right knee) bend & flex knee to the count.

 

20:  10 times: Feet apart twist upper body while slapping chest with one hand and lower back with the other simultaneously.

 

21:  10 times: feet together Repeat the above accentuating hip swivel.

 

22:  10 times: legs straight and 2 feet apart, stretching down towards left foot, then to the front, then right foot, then between your legs. Then repeat to (1 hippo~pota~mi, 2 hippopotami), up to… 10.  (you should not be trying to touch the ground or your toes) this is stretching your back, calves, and thigh muscles.

 

23:  Stand on your left leg, raise your right leg, and stretch your toes towards the floor to a count of 5.  Then toes to the ceiling to a 5 count. 

 

24:  Then twirl your foot clockwise to a count of 5. Then repeat counter clockwise to a count of 5.  Kick your raised leg to the side as high as you can then down. 

 

25:  (REPEAT) above standing on your right leg.  (Did I say you can use a hand for support?  Or, fix your eyes on a point called spotting?).

 

26:  Spine Stretch: Stand feet together, raise your hands above your head to count of 3, stretch up on tiptoes to a count of 7 then lower your arms to your side to a count of 10.

27:  (REPEAT)

 

28: 10 count slowly windmill arms to the front; in opposite directions clench fists 5.  (Deep Breath on each count ending with a sharp exhale of breath)

 

29:  (REPEAT) above in opposite direction.

 

30:  Same as above but fast inhale to a count of 5, then clench fists and exhale to a count of 5.

 

31:  (REPEAT) above in opposite direction.

 

32:  20 count: link hand in fireman’s grip, (like Charles Atlas) pull in opposite directions while raising hands above your head (to count 5) then slowly lower to the front (count 5), down to waist (count 5) back to chest (Count 5).

 

33:  20 count: hand together in praying position & push palms together, raise above your head (count 5) then slowly lower to the front (count 5), down to waist (count 5) back to chest (Count 5).

 

34:  10 count: link fingers and rock hands thumbs up, forward, and back.

 

35:  10 count: praying position raise arms so palms separate, then push fingertips together and push hands away from your body to the count.

 

36:  Flex left wrist down to a count of 5, then up to a count of five.

 

37:  Repeat the wrist flexes on your right hand.

 

38:  10 count: Hands by your side palms facing back, shake hands, and arms flapping at the wrists.

 

39:  10 count: Hands by your side palms facing your legs, shake hands and arms flapping at the wrist while raising them slowly to shoulder height then slowly lowering them).

 

40:  Legs together Hands on calves, nod head (x5), shake head (x5), role head clockwise (x5), role head counter clock (x5), rock head on shoulders L/R (x5), push the head back (x5).

(If doing this makes you feel giddy it may help if you close your eyes.)

 

41:  10 count: Hand above your head and shake them (Jazz Hands). 

 

42:  10 count: Hand above your head and wriggle your fingers fast.

 

That concludes your 10-minute body maintenance. It's taken considerably longer to write it all down so I can fully understand it.  But feel free to ask questions if you are unsure about any of the routines...

Live long & prosper…

 The Barefoot Medic

 

 This was my effort to capture the moment. Feel free to share.

A Personal Farewell 

By Rob Kingston

 

Today I’ve lost a special friend, 

not one I’ve met, nor seen up close,

 

though a dear friend she was.

 

She was my guidance, our holy light,

 

she had no fear through fire and flight 

She remains my light till due days slight

 

a monarch 

so colourful till the end

reaching for the stars

 

RIP My queen

 

Tylywoch ~ 25

 Tylywoch ~ 25  Jax Seeking Bianne

By Len Morgan

   Jax felt genuine sadness at leaving Hartwell, for almost a third of his life it had been his home.   He knew and loved its inhabitants.   It's uniquely eclectic population gathered from all over Abbalar, all drawn into a melting pot of religions, traditions, languages, and cuisine.  There are communities and enclaves within the city representing every nation in existence; it was indeed, Abbalar in microcosm. 

He left, intent on crossing the Sabre Tooth Mountains into Cheilin, and heading for the Eternal City, where he expected to locate Bianne.   He had it all worked out in his mind.   He would profess his love and they would move to a place where they could settle in peace to work on and develop a new centre for scientific learning that would prove so important in overcoming the Karaxen menace.   He would set up his own forge and take on apprentices then maybe some talented students, men of learning, would help him to build an academia through which he could pass on the knowledge.   There had to be some like minded people out there eager to learn and build for the future.   As for himself and Bianne, their life would be idyllic to the end of their days.   They would have children…?   Grow old together…?   No!   That was a fantasy they could do neither he knew, his desires were so simple yet unattainable, they would be denied.

On that first night in the Meyam foothills, he roasted a brace of hares he'd snared earlier in the day.   He seasoned them with a little of the salt Terrek had so thoughtfully packed for him together with tea, sugar, rich fruit cake, bread flour, nuts, tinder, and flint.   The food turned regularly on its spit smelt appetising, the aroma carried far beyond his simple campfire.  

"Hello the camp!" a voice called as he sat in quiet contemplation.   "We are three tired travellers with bread bacon and beans to share, can we approach?"

"Come forth and be recognised," Jax replied.

Three brothers entered the circle of the fire's glow.   The eldest opened his pack and set out cooking utensils.   The other two added their contributions; one had a wineskin and beakers.   The smell of bacon filled the glade, and soon they were eating, drinking, swapping stories, and news.   The brothers told him of the assassination of the Cheilin Empress and rumours of incursions by the people of Bluttland in the West.   He'd always thought them to be insular people who kept themselves to themselves, but their behaviour in Hartwell was obviously not characteristic of their race.    One of the brothers produced a flute and began to play.   The evening finished with singing and wild cavorting around the dying embers.   Finally with warm friendly feelings inside him, thanks to the generous helpings of good red wine, he finally pulled up his blanket and instantly fell into a dreamless sleep. 

The brothers were up at daybreak despite their previous night's drinking.   They broke their fast with the remains of the previous evening’s meal and when it was gone they bid him farewell and good fortune, sentiments he returned with vigorous handshakes and smiles.   They headed towards Hartwell, and he in the opposite direction towards the mountains, despite the dire warnings of trouble ahead.  

 An hour later, he heard the baying of wolves on the scent of prey.   Several hours later and a thousand feet higher he heard them again, closer this time, suddenly he felt disorientated and the disconcerting feeling of being watched.   As he climbed still higher the landscape changed becoming more desolate and open he could see for miles in any direction, and there was little fear of being observed closely without seeing the watcher, yet the feeling persisted.   He travelled on until midday when he stopped to eat.   The feeling was still with him a source of irritation.   He searched carefully in all directions but saw nothing, the baying was repeated it could have been closer but the wind plays tricks with sounds on these bare mountain slopes.   Suddenly his hackles rose, he dropped and rolled by instinct as a shadow fell on him.   He felt foolish when he looked up to see a dark cloud, scudding across the sun, above him.  

.-…-. 

Herra the Shewolf, tasted the air, pinpointing the proximity of a potential meal.   The brood watched hungrily, all faces attentive, their appellant eyes fixed on her.   Two short yelps and a howl came from below she conveyed an answer, in Shevix speak, providing information on the speed and direction of the quarry, to the hunters.   She held the high ground, with the two-legged creature in clear view.   He was a good size, grey pelt pink skinned with a brown coat.   She noted he was carrying a spiky stabber at his side, They could be fatal, he would be a tricky one to overcome.   She cautioned them to be wary of the stabber; it would not know Shevix speak she thought.   The hunt leader acknowledged her intelligence.   She gazed back at her three expectant cubs, asking them to be patient.   She heard the Alpha calling for further directions.   They had lost the prey, she looked and tasted the air but there was no sight or scent of it, that one quick glance had cost them, dear.   She searched for some time but could not relocate it.  

Jax lowered his gaze, and spied a small cave. He decided to rest there and observe for a while without being seen.   He slid in and settled down to wait, disturbing a hare as he did so, had he been a little faster it would have made a fine evening meal.    He heard the wolves, call and answer, again.  He watched but, fifteen minutes later, all he had observed was the wind rustling the heads of dry grasses and swift scudding rain clouds.  

Herra found the scent of a lone stag and hoped it was not in peak condition, they urgently needed a kill.   She gave cry as she spotted the beast, a wiley old one with wide branching antlers, she knew he would probably be too swift for them. 

 Jax closed his eyes and instantly felt the sensation of being hunted.   He felt exhilarated and triumphant.    Experiencing the breeze rushing past his face and through his pelt as he ran at high speed, effortlessly covering the ground.   He glanced back to see the squat shapes of his pursuers, their eyes like glowing coals, getting ever closer.   He had intentionally slowed to encourage them to redouble their efforts and use up their energy reserves.   As they closed in he simply sped up again leaving them in his wake.   He was aware that even if the seven had caught him, he would probably still have triumphed; hoof and horn are formidable weapons.   Only extreme hunger would drive wolves to chase a healthy stag.   Fortunate were they, not to catch him. 

An hour later while Jax slept in his refuge, Herra sat watching her cubs tear strips of flesh from the carcass of the hare that by its misfortune chanced across her path while she was searching for the two-legged creature.   She had grabbed it by its scruff and deftly threw it into the air breaking its neck.   She knew from experience it was dead before it landed, but the cubs pounced on it acting out a mock kill, copying the actions of the pack.   She waited patiently for them to eat their fill so that she also could eat.   Thanks to brother Hare they would survive to hunt another day.

(To be continued)

 

By Len Morgan

The Joy of being 80

 By Sis Unsworth

  I’ve reached my 80^th Birthday, so now I’m officially old,

  wisdom comes with age they say, that’s what I’m frequently   told.

  I’m not sure it’s true in my case, but I nod and say I agree,

  80 does have its advantages, well it did seem that way to me.

  I don’t have to go out to work now, I can stay in bed if I  

   choose,

  and 80 is now the new 60, I heard it one day on the news.

  I’ve lived 3 score years and 20, it seems a long time to some,

  I have lived through some bad times, thankfully I have also had fun.

  But times are getting hard now, with inflation running so high

  and fuel bills through the winter, they say may go through the sky.

  The Government may try to help me, now that I’m 80 years old,

  more money since my birthday, so I won’t go hungry or cold.

  They gave me a rise in my pension, which doesn’t seem to make sense.

  The extra I get now I’m 80, is a whole 25 pence! 

  Copyright Sis Unsworth

MOON STRUCK

 THE MOON 

 by Richard Banks

No one can quite explain why the moon is so important to Simon, why it fascinates and troubles him in equal measure. His mother will tell you that it started on a stiflingly hot summer’s evening in the early years of the First Republic when he was put to bed in a Moses Basket on the verandah of grandfather’s Highgate villa. The sun had set and, in the gathering darkness, a west wind gently stirred the Florida palms at the bottom of the garden. While this was greeted with weary sighs of relief from the fifteen adults and children there gathered, the most recent addition to the family Caine was still too hot to be consoled. Bent on tearful protest the child had no intention of stopping until he saw a rising moon, larger and brighter than any moon had a right to be. And, while no one knew why this should be, there was no doubting the evidence of many eyes. 

         What Simon saw and thought that evening we may never know; at fourteen months he was unable to say. Many years later he thinks he remembers but having been told the story of the big moon so many times he can not be sure whether his memories belong to himself or the story tellers. His subsequent recollections, however, are definitely his. There are many, too many to count. They are the consequence, indeed the reward of over forty years of moon gazing. 

         Each image he carries in his head. Every feature of every image is as precise as the moment he saw it. He could download them into a Mindstore but there is an intimacy about his seeing which he feels should go no further than himself. There are mysteries in its light, secrets that one day will be known only to himself. He must look and learn, look and learn, but unexpectedly his learning came in the listening. 

         In the silence of a long winter’s night, he received the revelation that gave voice to what he had previously only seen. At first, he was unsure whether he had heard anything at all, the sound was faint, scarcely audible, fading into silence before returning for a few moments more. Instinctively he knew that the moon was speaking, this was what he wanted to believe but that the scientist within him could only accept if there was proof. There must, he reasoned, be a correlation between the shimmering variations in the moon’s radiance and the sounds he was hearing. Would one give clarity to the other or would their interaction only give rise to an additional level of complexity? He wasn’t sure. Who could be? He only knew that his own memory bank was unequal to the task ahead. He needed the help of technology to survey sound and vision, to process the data passing through it and find the correlations, if not the meanings, of what was being said. The machines, however, would only take him so far, only he possessed the empathy that could transform knowledge into understanding. For now that empathy told him only that something was wrong, that the message he was receiving was a desperate cry for help. Was the Moon in danger, about to tumble from the sky?  

         There were men on the moon, mainly miners drilling deeper and deeper into its cratered surface. Were they also to perish? If so, they had only themselves to blame. What right had they to be there, to defile and exploit what should be honoured and revered! 

         The first men on the moon gave hope of better things. They came in awe as if to hallowed ground. Had they, on landing, found a collection box they would gladly have paid for the few bags of rock and soil they departed with. They came to learn, not exploit. The miners, however, had no altruism, no souls to fill, no motive for being there but to dig deeper and deeper for the minerals that made them wealthy and their employers more powerful than any nation state. Free from the tiresome regulation of life on earth they dug ever closer to the beating heart of the moon, suspecting nothing, knowing nothing, hearing only the relentless progress of their drills. 

         But Simon did hear the Moon and, one day, would understand everything it said. For now, the machines he had purchased were processing the data that flowed through them every moment of the day. Far from being an endlessly repeated SOS the message being transmitted was complex and structured in a way that suggested its purpose was to inform and direct.

         Was he the only recipient? If so he dare not fail.

         The first word was deciphered in less than a month, ten more in the following week, simple words, a few less so, then the first sentence, short and cryptic referring to an action hidden in a complexity of bewildering detail. This was no ‘message in a bottle’ cry for help to be answered by whoever intercepted it, this was one side of a long conversation between Moon and planet Earth. While the Earth’s transmissions could neither be heard or seen they could sometimes be inferred from the Moon’s own signals. Otherwise the Earth’s contribution to the great matter being discussed was received and understood solely by the entity to which it had been sent. Only the miners might have heard the Earth, but, as the Earth well knew, they were too busy drilling. 

         The unexpected discovery that the Moon was not seeking the help of himself or any other member of the human race undermined every good intention with which Simon had armed himself. It transformed him from a potential saviour to an eavesdropper afraid of what he might hear. The Moon and Earth had secrets to share, secrets that neither party had sought to make known to mankind. If Simon continued to listen what would be his function? If this was a game of sides could he be loyal to both? Paralysed by indecision he allowed the machines to continue their work, slowly but steadily deciphering the Moon’s transmissions, revealing frequent references to air and earth and the changing of both. Was this the solution to global warming? In time everything would be clear and he would know what to do. Until then he must keep a watching brief. He must look and learn, look and learn.                                                                 

                                            *****

The Moon, tired, and irritated at the incessant drilling of the miners, puts aside its primary task to examine an oscillation in its signal that is traced to a listening device on a part of the planet’s surface much settled by the dominant species. The knowledge that mankind is listening and might already be aware of the intentions of Moon and Earth raises serious concerns that would be more serious had the detection of other receivers indicated the involvement of national Governments. As of now only one, or a few human beings, have been listening, and not for long. Even so, this is a situation that can not be allowed to continue. Mankind is dangerous and surprisingly able. None of them must know of what is to come.

         The Moon considers its options and selects one painful to itself. Tearing from its body a boulder the size of a space truck it is tossed clear of the Moon’s atmosphere and aimed at Earth where, on impact, it destroys not only the receiving station but most of London. The rest of the world will be left untouched until the designated day when the co-ordinated onslaught of fire, earthquake and volcano will render the planet devoid of life for many millions of years. 

         This will be the fourth epoch of living beings to perish. It has lasted longer than the others, too long. It will be followed by a closed down world, a time for Moon and Earth to rest in fallow sleep before waking to nurture the beginning of new life. 

         Will the age that follows be better than those preceding it? The Moon thinks not, but knows that it will be different, fascinatingly different, unpredictable and imperfect like those before. In time it too will promise much, achieve much, before becoming unfit for any good purpose. When hope has vanished and there is only despair it too will be destroyed so that the Planet can live. 

         But that is yet to come. For now, it is the living things presently on Earth that must be swept away, along with the few thousand men on the Moon who without supplies from Earth will perish within months. There can be no sympathy for man, for what he has become. Touched by genius each one is tainted by demons that burrow deep within.     

         The Moon looks down, sees all, knows all, and says a sad goodbye to those who gently moon gaze. They, at least, deserve a better fate.

 

The End.

 

Copyright Richard Banks