Chapter 31

Dalfang sat quietly before the embered remains in his fireplace, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe.   Its long neck protruded down from his lips and ran across his beard to his chest level where he held it gently between his fingers.  With each drag, the tiny glowing knot in the pipe’s bowl burned brightly for a moment, followed by a stream of smoke issuing from the sage’s parted lips.  Thus expelled, the pungent fumes whirled upward, adding to the hazy cloud drifting in the semi-lit room.

Outside, the subdued sunlight distilled its way through the fog.  The sea drizzle had been in all day, covering the verdant ferns and high evergreens with a misty sheen.  Tears of expanding moisture stood on their leaves until they grew too heavy for the tender fronds.   Spilling off, the drops would fall to be absorbed by the mossy ground or be shattered like liquid glass against a stone.

Behind Dalfang, Bracken stirred from his nap.  He had been with the older man several days now and his strength was rapidly returning.  Even Dalfang was amazed when he thought of the grace and seeming providence that had kept the youth alive through his trial at Mount Shidow.  Many times Bracken had been near death, only to be mysteriously revived.  After his ordeal with Os it had taken him two days of struggle to reach the pool of Tibtem.  Its healing waters had bathed his wounds until gradually soundness began to return to his battered frame.  His last ration of food consumed, he had limped off toward the highway, reaching the comfort of Dalfang’s cabin several days later.  The solitary man had watched over his young friend, allowing him to rest and convalesce undisturbed by conversation.

By now, Bracken was himself again and talked much with Dalfang between his rests.  Awake now, he swung his feet from the cot on which he had been sleeping and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

Dalfang removed his pipe from his mouth and spoke.  "The rest has done you good. By tomorrow you’ll be as you were when I first met you, strong and healthy."   A section of smoldering wood broke free from the charred logs and spilled onto the hearth.  Dalfang kicked the embers back into the fireplace and turned his swivel chair around toward his patient.  Bracken took a relaxing breath and responded.

"My head seems to ache less each day," he observed, holding his forehead with his right hand and squinting his eyes dosed.  He stood and walked over to the chair beside Dalfang.  "Is there any of that hot broth left?  I’m hungry!"   The older man reached for the black pot hanging above the coals.  Pulling back its lid, he stared into it.

"Yes, there’s about a cupful left.  It’s still warm, I believe.  A little steam is rising from it."  Dalfang took a cup from the table beside him, filled it from the sooty cauldron and handed it to Bracken.

"Thank you," returned Bracken, gratefully sipping the fragrant stew.  "It tastes great."  Each sat quietly until the soup was consumed.  "While I was sleeping," began Bracken, again placing the mug in his lap, "I had another dream."  He shuddered a little as he recalled it.  "I was back in the Gem’s passage again being torn apart by Semie’s friends."

"I could tell," acknowledged the other, lighting his pipe again.  "Your sleep was quite fitful at times, but not nearly as bad as it was when you first arrived.   Those memories may be with you long after the bruises on your body heal."

Bracken pulled up his arm and examined the recovering scar on his wrist.  "Whenever I begin to think about what happened in the Mingus realm," he ventured staring into the nearly extinguished fire, "I find it impossible to believe that they really occurred. . . not believe I guess, just accept."  He shifted his weight, hoping to relieve some of the discomfort he still felt in his thighs.  "How is it possible that evil could exist in such an awesome realm?"

Dalfang stood and took several logs from the wood box on the side of the hearth and tossed them into the fireplace, stoking the old wood until he brought up the flame.  "I tried to warn you of what would happen, but you seemed too determined in your own quest to take time to understand what I was saying."  Now that the fire began to burn again, the cloaked man returned to his seat and to the pipe he had laid aside.   "I was once like you, eager and petulant. When I was younger, I traveled many realms and byways to learn what now I hold sacred."  The mentor filled and lit his deadened pipe, then leaned closer.  "Our race is seeking something of eternity.  But so often they miss the truth that lies within themselves.   There’s much good there.  It simply must be harnessed and then used to transform our world.  This power is like a stream whose waters can be turned to build or destroy.  Evil beings have turned it against you, now you must learn to turn it back."

Bracken leaned down, placing his cup on the hearth in front of him.  Looking into the ancient face across from him, he asked, "How did you come to discover these things?   I’ve seemed to wander right past such truths and never find them."

Dalfang smiled back toward the youth.  "Malchag has taught me these things.   I’ve grown old learning of its ways.  The quiet reflections of its beauty give understanding to the troubled mind.  The older man pondered momentarily, his eyes shining like polished stones in their deep-set sockets.  "I’ve also grown to respect Wiscim’s counsel.  I spent many an hour with him learning of the higher ways."

Bracken was a little surprised when his elder mentioned the leader of Malchag.  Even though Dimliss had told Bracken of Wiscim, he had tended to brush aside his importance in the flurry of his tour of the hidden world.  But now that he was being confronted with him again, a new hope awoke within him.  Perhaps he could learn what he had been seeking from the same one who had taught Dalfang.

Bracken leaned closer to question the old man.  "Wiscim’s the leader of Malchag?   He lives in the Knasir Mountains, does he not?"

Dalfang knocked the dead ashes from his pipe and slipped it back into its pouch.  "Yes, he does. And it’s a place well worth seeing. You can learn of this flow there, if you are willing."

Bracken stood up and turned his back to the fire.  It was nearly dark outside and the evening chill was increasing.  "After what I’ve been through, I’m willing to learn all I can.  Malchag is far more beautiful than anything I’ve found in the Mingus realm.  It seems to have an unaffected and simple quality to it.  I want to go back, and I would deeply desire to meet this leader, Wiscim."

Dalfang stood up beside Bracken and removed something from the mantle above the fire.   "I’m glad you’ve begun to notice the difference.  Os was never able to see this.  He was too fascinated with the pulsating allure of the Gem."   Bracken grimaced at the memory of the Mingus peddler.  "In Malchag, one is close to the flow.  In the soil and sky, the trees and the high mountains, lay an enchantment that leaves the soul refreshed and not drained."  Dalfang rubbed the object in his hand against the soft texture of his inner cloak, then handed it to Bracken.   The dull gloss of a metal cryptogram reflected the leaping flames of the fire.   "Tomorrow, you may go to Malchag.  Talay will show you the path to the Knasir Mountains and Wiscim’s palace."  Bracken stared down at the shining rectangle.   As he did, it seemed to warm his soul.

Dawn was at midflight, the bright sun of Malchag rising splendidly in the morning sky, as Bracken turned up the trail to Brish’s home.  Talay had met him at the entrance of Malchag and pointed the route to the first way station, which passed near their dwelling.   Bracken had decided to make a short stop and greet Brish before hiking on toward the mountains.  As he came over a rise, he could see that she was already up and working in her garden.  Bright green and yellow flowers bloomed in rows between elongated vegetables and stubby-looking herbs.

Brish saw Bracken first, looking up from the neatly kept plot.  "Bracken! It’s good to see you again."  Brish motioned for him to enter the arbor next to the flower rows.

"It’s good to see you as well," Bracken smiled back, taking the chair she offered him under the leaf-covered latticework.  The two sat around a table and began to nibble of the fruit that Brish had set out earlier.

"I’ve been busy since you left.  I’m just about to harvest my first crop."   Brish looked admiringly out at the plot she had labored over and then, leaning back in her chair, turned back to Bracken.  "I hope you are staying for dinner.   I’ve made some caila.  It’s delicious when fresh picked."

"That’s what you told me before," replied Bracken staring off in the opposite direction toward the far mountains.  "I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you.   I’m on my way to Wiscim’s palace."

"That’s a long journey," exclaimed Brish.  "You have to let me prepare you some dried fruit to take along."

"Thank you, I’d love it," replied Bracken.  Brish rose and slipped away toward the house.  A few minutes later she returned with the food neatly packed.  "So you’re going into the Knasir Mountains.  You will enjoy them. I’ve been there several times.  Hope to go back again soon.  I’ve never been to Wiscim’s palace, but perhaps next time I’ll stop there. . . . By the way, I’d almost forgotten, how was your trip back to Nerkush?"  Bracken’s face grew grim; he was a little reluctant to share all that had happened to him recently.   But he went ahead anyway.  Brish listened in sober attention.

When Bracken finished, Brish looked a little numbed by what her friend had related to her.   "I’m glad you’re here Bracken, and have seen through what Os was doing."  Brish reached out and touched Bracken’s shoulder looking into his eyes.  "Here in Malchag you are free and safe.  I’ve been so completely satisfied here, I’d almost forgotten about Nerkush."  Brish closed her arms around Bracken and held him gently for a moment.  "I hope you stay for good this time."

Bracken took the bag of fruit and began to stuff it in his pouch.  "I plan to, Brish," replied the wanderer, standing to his feet, smiling at her.  "Right now though, understanding everything that has happened to me is the first priority in my mind."   Bracken turned and looked off toward the mountains again.  "I’d better get going, before the day slips away."

Brish stood up too.  "I’ll walk with you to the top of the rise."

At the crest of a small knoll near her home, Brish hugged Bracken goodbye.  She watched as he moved rapidly away.