Northern Reaches ~ 01 Wizomi’s Quest
By Len Morgan
[This is a continuation from Abbalar Tales ~ 24]
https://rlwg2020.blogspot.com/2021/01/abbalartales-24-revisionists-1-by-len.html
Wizomi stepped down from the arrival daise.
The Oracle ‘Mind
spoke’ to him:
‘The nearest town is due East it’s called Banks. The weather is inclement so you will need to don rough weather gear from the dresser.’
Suitably garbed, still retaining his hooded robe and staff, he headed towards the main door that bore a recessed palm print. He placed his hand in the print, and the door opened on a grey sky. A blustery gale pushed him out onto the barren plain. He checked his loadstone, raised his hood and visor, protection from the swirling dust, and headed East; along a well-travelled path.
The Oracle continued:
‘You will find a sailboard hidden in the copse to your left; it will speed your journey.’
He found the wheeled sailboard, hoisted its square sail, and grasped the guide ropes. Twenty miles on he could see Banks in the distance. There were parking spaces outside the town some occupied by similar wind driven vehicles tied to a hitching rail. He tied up and headed into town; along an uninspiring ‘dirt’ road.
He was disappointed. It wasn’t as he’d imagined a town in an advanced society would look. It was a shabby border town like so many he’d visited in the past.
‘That is how
it is intended to look outwardly. Go to the
The
“Young lady, the aroma of
your food is tempting, might I have a generous helping and a flagon of ale
please?”
She ignored him and went to another table instead; taking their orders first. He waited until they’d received their food.
“Waitress, can I please
order a meal?”
She ignored him and returned to the kitchens. He waited a while then wandered over to the bar. “Barkeep, I would speak with Tam.”
“That’s me, how can I help?”
“My name is Wizomi, I’m newly arrived from the Oracle and would like a room and victuals if you please.”
“Bett please serve this gentleman and show him to our best room.” He placed a tankard of ale on the counter. “It will be added to your bill sir.”
Wizomi returned to his
seat and quaffed his ale. Pretty soon
Bett returned with a bowl of mutton stew and dumplings. He wiped out his bowl with a Bread roll from
the basket that accompanied the meal.
Bett collected the empties.
“Thank you that was delicious Bett.”
“Can I show you to your room now?”
He smiled, stood and followed her to a clean room above the tavern.
.-…-.
He awoke with the first rays of the sun, a new day, bright and welcoming. He went downstairs where a committee of five waited to greet him. He was ushered to a vacant seat.
Without preamble he spoke, “I’m here to seek out the Revisionist sect.” He took out his letter of introduction from the Oracle. Nobody moved.
“Are you one of them?” Tam asked.
“I am not, but I am sympathetic to their cause, and I am seeking their assistance…”
“You won’t find them here; their sect is situated a hundred miles further East of Banks.”
“Then why was I sent
here…?”
‘You
will need a key,’
“Do you perhaps have said key?”
The group exchanged looks,
then Tam slid a token across the table.
“We will provide you with rations for your journey, return the sailboard, and provide you with transport for your onward journey.”
.-…-.
Wiz travelled by horse in an Easterly direction, towards a distant range of hills. After three days he arrived at a narrow pass. Casting his mind ahead he located an eagle in her eyrie high in a fissure on the cliff face. Her eyes were so sharp; it took him several moments to align his senses with hers. Through her eyes he saw a campsite, the embers still smoking. He saw the lookout on the cliff top signal to a group of five armed men spread out on either side of the cut; he’d been identified as a potential mark. There were no projectile weapons so he continued afoot, whilst identifying each adversary from the eagle’s eye viewpoint, allowing the horse to guide him.
A man stepped into his path and smiled. “Greetings friend, we work hard to ensure the pass remains open for travellers through all kinds of weather. So, I’m sure you would not think us unreasonable if we request a small tithe, a contribution, for travelling our highway?”
“That does not sound unreasonable, I’m sure you have a family to support. How much should I donate to your cause?”
“Well, you appear to be a reasonable traveller you’re obviously visiting our village, just a few miles ahead, so will not need that fine horse. And, shall we say half your goods!”
“It is possible you are correct, so tell me sir, what is the name of your dwelling?”
“Journeys End…”
“But, that is not my destination, so I will still require my mount…”
“It’s as far as you will go on this path my friend,” the man took the reins of his horse; it promptly took a step forward and stamped on his foot. “Aahh,” he yelled. Thinking he’d been attacked by Wizomi, two men appeared from either side. The horse reared up and pushed one man to the ground in a daze. The other raised his sword to strike Wiz, who used his stave like a spear aimed at the man’s solar plexus, and pushed him to the ground, spark out. He rubbed his hands together and a light appeared. He closed his eyes and clapped his hand. A blinding flash temporarily robbed the other two of their sight, and Wiz continued on his way.
That would have concluded the meeting had not the lookout signalled to two others a mile further on. Wiz was aware there might be others ahead but was caught unawares by a well aimed rock. Dazed and hogtied he was jostled by the gait of his horse, as he lay prone across its back.
At ‘Journeys End’, he was
dropped to the hard packed earth.
“What have we here,” a heavyset bearded man said removing the ropes.
“Thank you, sir.”
“He’s a tricky one Arturo, he blinded the main crew with some clever device, I had to brain him with a rock…”
“Show me his things Boxer,” his remaining provisions a short blade, a length of thin cowhide rope, a few silver and copper coins, his robe and a stave. “Aside from the horse, there’s nothing here worth fighting over. He poked Wiz with his foot. “Who are you and where are you bound!”
“My name is Wizomi, I’m seeking a group known as ‘the Revisionists’. I’m told they reside in these parts.”
“Really? So, what do you want with them. Are you worth anything to us by way of ransom?”
“I’m sure something could
be arranged to make it worth your while, if you convey me to them, what is your
price?” He’d taken care, with slight of
hand, to conceal the token on his person.
“We will permit you to keep your robe and stave. All else contributes to your passage. Do you have a map or indication where they reside, because we’re not aware of them.”
“There might be a stone or Oracle with a hand or palm print incised in it, do you know of such a place?”
“Boxer?”
“There are villages nearby, within twenty miles. We regularly trade…”
An elderly woman spoke out, “there is a gully back a ways with a flat rock we occasionally use as a table. It has a hand print on one side and a slit in the rock as deep as my blade would go…”
“I know the place,
Leisser. It’s less than a mile from here
I’ll take him there if the price is agreed. Arturo?”
“Ten Golden would be fair. Take him Boxer, don’t let him go until the bounty is paid, take four men with you.”
They made the journey in half an hour, Wiz gazed down at the stone, “This is it!” He placed his hand in the recessed palm. Nothing happened. He dropped the coin into the hole and disappeared. At the same moment, a purse of coins appeared on the table. Four men ran, leaving Boxer alone. Hesitantly he reached for the pouch.
‘I failed to make you aware that Leisser is a sensitive. Your bounty has been paid with interest. You may need to return this way,’
.-…-.
The atmosphere was warm, there was a faint scent of oil and roses in the air. A gentle purr from machinery, foreign to his ear. Gazing up at the source of blue light he recognized panels identical to those in the tunnels beneath Corvalen. He was in a kiosk, the air circulated like a tornado that disappeared into vents at the top of the walls on either side. A red light above the transparent door turned green, and the door slide open. He stepped out into a corridor.
‘Welcome Wizomi from Chinake, you are here to solicit our aid in repelling enemies of Abbalar. You will require devices appropriate to your current level of development.’
“That is so, what should I call you?”
‘I am an extension of the Oracle, you may call me O2.’
“So O2, where are the Revisionists?”
‘Not here,’ the silence dragged on…
“Will you direct me to the ‘Revisionists’ or, tell me where I might find them?” An arrow lit up on the path; he walked in that direction until he came to a fork where a second arrow pointed left. He followed until he reached a cave opening to the outside, a snow covered scene. As he stepped over the threshold the scene wavered and changed to a hot desert scene. He stepped out and turned around to see only the unforgiving desert behind, and around him.
“Which way do I go, he asked?” There was no reply. He looked carefully in all directions, but saw only the endless desert, under a cloudless sky. Then he looked to his left and saw in the sky, five dark pinpoints coming from Sun’ard. He looked away so as not to destroy his vision. He waited squinting briefly into the sun. The points were growing rapidly larger now they looked like birds. Within minutes he saw they were winged people. He planted his stave firmly in the powdery sand and waited, they began to glide towards him, he was obviously their target, he could employ a dazzel and seem to disappear, but they were here for him in response to his cry for help. They landed lightly running briefly to reduce speed then the wings folded, and they approached…
“Mr Wizomi, you will come with us.”
“Show me how?”
A young woman stepped forward, “Call me Ariel, I’m the lightest and have a tandem wing, put your stave on the bar, your hands through the loops and hold on. When I say go, we run…” Within moments they were airborne. He looked down they were flying faster than they had been running.
“How does this device work
Ariel? I’m of the weirding way, yet I
could not accomplish such a feat,” he had to shout to be heard.
“It’s technology beyond the ability of ‘Standards’,” she yelled into the wind. ‘Do you mind speak?’
‘Yes.’
‘The wing and our flight suits soak up the sunlight and turn it into energy.’
’That may be so, but what happens at night?’
‘The bar we are holding soaks up the energy and stores it; so that we can fly all night and still have energy to spare.’
‘But how is that done?’
‘I don’t know! You will have to
ask a tekkie when we get to home base…’
She pulled a string and a trapeze was released from the wing structure. ‘Sit on
the bar Wiz, it will relieve the strain on your arms. We are used to long flights and take them for
granted.’
Well before they landed Wiz was grateful for the perch.
They flew on for several hours then a rock formation appeared in the distance.
‘Almost there.’
(To be continued)
Copyright
Len Morgan
