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 Inn,
ask for Tam and tell him you were sent by the Oracle.’
The Inn
was situated on the outskirts of the town.
He went in and took a seat at an empty bare trestle table, he observed
the wood had been darkened and smoothed by the hands of many patrons, of which
there were few today. He received
curious glances. Then a waitress entered
with bowls of steaming food and a basket of bread rolls. His nostrils twitched, it smelt good! He waited until she’d emptied her tray then
waved her over.
“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
