Tales Of Grimea Read online

  As days went on, the man learned not only to probe farther, but also discern his surroundings whilst moving. That made it possible to hunt animals better. The first time he did it, his skill was used against a red tailed four footer. It was tiny and weak, but with time the two footer was able to expand and find better prey and avoid predators, like those larger than trees or more dangerous than even the Muahugh’ha. Feeling lighter, knowing when and where obstacles may show up, made all the difference. The fourth time, he was a able to run and climb, barely touching branches with the tips of his arms and feet before swinging off and leaping, pushing off as if he were walking vertically on trunks. A huge tree came up, but the man was prepared and leapt high, landing against it with most of his upper body, but keeping his knees supple. He held there for a second, suspended by speed, and before he could slip down he leapt vertically, towards another branch. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the immediate surroundings. A ripple moved towards him, fast, and the man knew that if he moved his arms forward it would swoop down to compensate. He put his palm in the correct spot and a large bird of prey flew right into it. It had a menacing beak, black and white feathers, and dangerous talons. The man smiled at his dinner.

  That day, the two footers looked upon him with shock. No one caught that type of bird like that. Sometimes they were found, perhaps even trapped by a genius, but never caught. The man basked in it for a while, and then went to the family he knew, giving them the bird and gesturing that with that, his debt towards them has been paid in full. The father agreed.

  Day after day the two footer hunted, finding better pray and understanding the lake within him better. There were slight differences in the ripples, telling him exactly what he was sensing and its conditions. The ripple of a river fish was different from that of a lean beating crawler or a sighing slitherer. Everything felt different and yet exactly the same. It made hunting much easier for the two footer and freed him to think of other things.

  It is incredible to behold what people could achieve when they weren’t desperately fighting for survival. The two footer realized that his new sense worked on some principle different than climbing or understanding. There was something within him, a stamina of sorts. Moreover, he realized that the lake within him was the same one he saw from above in his mind’s eye, and that the ripples were reflections upon his own senses. His senses depended on the size of the lake, as well as intricacy of what he felt. If he stretched himself thin, he could feel farther, but with less detail. At distance, it was difficult to tell an injured bird from a leaping climber.

  The two footer was fascinated with his senses, and so sought to develop them. He began to store food, and when he had enough for a week he went to his cave. It was not deep nor bright. There were no animals and no wood, just leaves for him to sleep on. It faced the sun’s rise to wake him up when time came, and it was high to protect him from predators. Most importantly, this small hole in the mountain was his home. On one side, its right wall curved to allow him a seating space, and that was where the two footer went.

  He sat, making himself comfortable. He allowed his eyes to close and his breath to slow, then realized that the children would not allow him to work in peace. He needed another spot, and so tied up his storage of food in vines, making a small bag for it. He took it deep into the jungle, to a giant tree he knew of. The tree’s bark had seen many years, and so had mingled with the death-green. Only, he understood that the death green had nature and life within, small enough not to be noticed but important all the same. The man came to this tree because it had a hold in its trunk, allowing him to sit inside, hidden from everything. There were enough pieces of bark to cover him from predators, and the mossy seat was comfortable.

  The man sat, watching the sun set beyond his mountain home. The light entered his eyes but stopped at his nose. This was how he would tell time when a day passed. Once more, the man allowed his consciousness to almost fade, closing his eyes and slowing his breath. He became the lake and sensed innumerable ripples all about. Wonder filled him at the euphoria of life, and he could hear many voices, chattering together as one. He saw them from above with his body as the center. He could see about as far as he could run for a few heartbeats. Slowly he focused on that feeling, allowing himself to push the boundaries whilst not rushing things. More than anything, he focused on the pleasant sensation of being one with himself.

  His senses travelled, and every time the ripples became faint he would stop, savoring the sounds of a beating heart or a bloomed flower’s scent being lifted high into a cloudless sky by a red eyed bird. He saw the smallest of things and the largest of the mountain sized animals, those with skins like leather or hair longer than a man. Whenever the fatigue left him, he would continue expanding his senses until suddenly, he felt a two footer. He was used to how different two footers were from the rest of existence. There was somehow more complexity to them, whilst betraying no higher importance. Then the feeling came again, later, and the man realized he was sensing his home, where the caves were. Children danced and men laughed and women ran races against one another. Meanwhile a fluttering betrayed the ripples of butterflies. He pushed further.

  The two footer had never seen any bodies of water larger than his jungle’s river. You can imagine then his gasp of wonder at finding his sight stopped by an incredibly ancient presence vaster, it seemed, than a dream spanning a thousand nights. The presence was filled with different types of animals the two footer had never encountered, having never been away from the jungle ringed by mountains. He could also feel other predators on the land between mountain and ocean, bigger still than the ones back home. Two footers, however, he could not sense. Instinctively, he was glad to that none of these predators roamed his lands.

  If you walked along the river in the direction to your left when facing the sun, you would, in the two footer’s jungle, find two or three spots of land surrounded by water. This, the two footer discovered, was how most land was. There was mostly water, and he, his jungle, and everything around were one island. Smaller islands headed in a direction, then two large ones, far from one another but connected by a long thin strip. Far below him, down enough that it somehow became up again, was one last island. Four there were, in this… place they inhabited. The two footer had no concept of planets, but surmised that everyone lived on a ball. By this time, he had eaten a few times, but had stopped for nothing else. The sun rose when he found his strength waning and he stopped to rest his mind and self, and his eyes stung both with light and revelation, although these two things were sometimes one and the same. There was too much to know. Everyone lived on islands surrounded by water, on a ball? His head hurt with the number of new beings he’d felt. By the end of his day’s out of body adventure, he could only sense beings larger than reality, like the lizards that flew or the fish that walked or the two footers made of tree. Once more, he was glad to not have any in their jungle, for he sensed there was no way to hunt these things.

  When his rest was over, the two footer readied himself to feel once more. It was now high morning, and he’d thought a few things through. Instead of feeling just all around, he sent his senses in an orb around him from the get go. It was coming to his attention that under was not quite always under, and as with many new revelations he took this one with wonder and a change of thought. When he passed the globe, this time, he could feel smaller things as well. Realizing that his senses were growing, the two footer gently pushed on through, and was surprised to feel little resistance. It was as if the space he probed was devoid of anything. He thought for a few seconds that he’d reached the end of the world, and so spent a few minutes basking in the world and in himself. Then, when caution’s grip loosened, the man pushed on further, until he reached white rock. Then he moved on and felt more rock, and more, then something akin to the red tongues which were sometimes left behind when lightning smashed its foot against the ground. There were no living things to touch, and yet the man was not disheartened, for he was the lake and could feel all around him. With a deep breath he moved on, sensing himself moving slowly. He spun slowly, and yet was still. He moved not, and yet at the same time hurtled through the void, as he could tell by his distance from the rocks. It was only when night fell that he realized that he’d felt moon and stars. It was a revelation of wonder, for he’d always assumed that the moon and stars hid during daylight. Things were proving different indeed. That night, he did not sleep or push on, but rather chose to pull back his probe until he could sense even the smallest insects again. It was that sense of unity in being the lake that brought him comfort through the night.

  When the sun rose on the third day, the two footer had reached inner peace. He pushed through, going farther into the void beyond his world than he’d ever dared. He became sure that there was no living thing outside his void, and so stretched himself thin, taking a stroll. Thus, he was shocked in the same sense as being dowsed by cold water when his sensed something. Immense beings, beyond his understanding. They walked between the stars gently, through paths known only to them.

  Hmm? Remarked a voice in his mind, strange and echoing. The man was so stunned that he said nothing, and the voice repeated its sound. There was a sense of question, and the two footer assumed he was being contacted. The being was so large that he felt an urge he’d never had before. He tried to contact it, focus on it, and enter it. Pain blossomed in him and the two footer retreated.

  Gently, the being touched him and the two footer almost felt himself snap in half. It pulled back hastily, and he realized that it had only tried to communicate. A sense of disappointment came through, and he felt guilty for not being able to speak with it. There were almost a hundred of them, and he sensed them talk to one another. He felt jealous and lonely, so tried once more to communicate with the star walkers with their long strides, despite the pain. His attempts bordered on desperation, for he wanted more than anything to speak with them and be like them. He wanted to be one with these amazing beings, as he was one with the jungle. He needed their contact. He could tell that the attempts were killing him, and that he would never be able to step out of his body again. Still he tried, until finally he snapped. The pain was too much to handle and he almost blacked out, but was grabbed by someone.

  The being he was trying to contact took him gently, preserving his mind, keeping him safe and trying to tell him things too big for his primitive mind to understand. When it released him, he was sucked back into his own body, which he knew would become his trap forever more. With a gasp, he awoke in the inside of a burning tree, with the sun setting, and knew that he would never be able to feel again. He tried, to great pain. He knew that he’d set the tree on fire, but knew not how.

  The two footer went back to his cave, haunted by what he’d tried and seen. Only two pieces of information were gleaned from the star walkers, these mighty god figures. The first was the understanding that what he’d done, how he felt, was part of something larger. There were no specifics. All he knew was that living things were able to learn how to use something deep inside. The second piece of information was how the star walkers crossed great distances. In his cave, he used blood to draw a symbol: Two curves mirroring one another, almost touching. In their tails three dots sat, and at their heads triangles waited. The holes of void met inside and created the pathways for these great beings using the dots and triangles.

  The two footer was sure that with time, the knowledge gleaned from them would prove useful. He knew that if the thing within him weren’t broken, he would be able to use it to great effect after his revelation, but there was no use crying over what was. He would make sure the others understand and keep the knowledge going until it became of better use. Time after time he drew the symbol, filling the walls of his cave. Time after time he repeated the revelation of magical wonders depending on inner strength and vitality, knowing that there was a world far beyond him, and a path that only he could walk.

  Survival:

  Year: 801 post Kerallus. 251 Pre Adventus

  Claudis made her way outside of the nice, small home, savoring the scent of cooking pudding mingled with early spring flowers. She walked along the path to her small herb garden, making sure not to step over daffodils as she dead. The flowers seemed to look up at the woman in appreciation.

  She hummed in a soothing manner as she cut small snippets of sage, thornswash and Heldibliss. Scissors snipped and the purple flower fell to her hands with a solemn sigh. She offered a prayer to Til, god of nature and forests, for the boon. It was said that offering such prayers gave the plants incentive to release more flavor. She walked slowly back, where a beautiful man sat by a fireplace, knife in hand. She frowned. “Markus Demask Dernagen, what do you think you’re doing?”

  He looked up at her. As they sometimes did, the curves of his facial features took her by surprise and Claudis felt out of breath. His nose was slightly overlarge, and his messy hair often found its way into places hair had no reason to be, such as imperfect ears. Still, the sun’s rays kissed his lips through a nearby window, and somehow he seemed to light up their little living room. “Why do you need to know?” he asked confidently. This was the voice people didn’t often hear, mostly because he was too polite. With her, things were different.

  “Because you might be trying to make me another wooden ring.”

  “Maybe I am.” At that, the woman rolled her eyes. Her husband, for all of his good qualities, was not a craftsman. Woodwork didn’t come naturally to him, as was evident by the green bandage wrapped around his left thumb. Unfortunately, he could be as headstrong as a Gost. Just as the troll like things head-butted rocks to get at the water within, Markus liked to tackle challenges. Seeing her worried glance, he invited her over to him. When she came to check his hands for further injury, however, the man instead cupped her face with a hand. “Look into my eyes. I know what we talked about.”

  “So you know I didn’t really mean what I’d said about back then.”

  “Of course. I also know that if it were easy, you’d be more than happy to get a handcrafted wooden ring. You just don’t want me to get hurt.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve been through battlefields and this,” he showed her his thumb, “Is the injury I carry with the most pride. For you, I’d lose arms and legs. Let me make you happy and I will fly over a solemn moon in my dreams.” Now really, when he put things like that, there was little to be said. She let him continue fiddling with the knife, surprised to see how far he’d gotten.

  Hours later, when Sol was finished pulling the sun back to its resting spot, Claudis and Markus sat down to have their dinner. She had brewed them a thornwash tea, and he had in turn brought out cheeses and breads. As she sat at the table, the dark haired woman saw a circle of relatively well-shaved ashwood. It was almost as white as his skin, spotted with a tiny red dot here and there, and obviously a few sizes too large. A simple chain had been passed through, and it hunched upon the table, average and unassuming. Little did that small ornament know that it was the best ring that had ever been made. Her impossible miracle smiled, and she smiled to him in turn, saying nothing. Words were too difficult to summon at that moment.

  A knock came from their kitchen door, and after exchanging puzzled glances she went to answer. A little boy stood there, all freckles and energy. A part of her lamented not having one of her own, but luck had its way of taking and giving things. “Hello, Jareny!” she announced loudly.

  “Evening, Mrs. Dernagen,” the child answered, fidgeting. He was polite as usual, but she could sense his urgency. “I’m sorry to bother you, but Ma asks if you have any of that burlen honey left. Da fancies some and we ran out a week ago.” She informed him loudly that she did, thus saving herself of explaining to her husband. After slight hesitation, she bade the child wait and went to take her ring with its chain from the table, placing the now necklace over her head and around her neck. She mouthed, “Thank you,” and her husband lit up. Then Claudis told little Jareny to go inside and get himself some cheese while she fetched the honey.

  Claudis’ well-worn leather shoes thumped against dirt for a few seconds, then she turned left into grass, making sure to walk carefully. Night was relatively safe in this part of Veld. They didn’t even keep their Regalians hidden, for they were part of the fair kingdom and people were civilized. Still, one could hardly explain that to a snake or a belg just sitting there, waiting for a bite with impossible patience. She walked with eyes peeled under the moon’s solemn grace, silently asking Hydra for luck as was customary until she reached the small wooden structure they used for a secondary storage. The small room was wide enough for her to stand within and spin, so long as the tall woman kept both arms firmly at her side. Shelves lined the thing, stacked high with all sorts of things they’d chosen to keep. Both the man and his wife were hoarders at heart, and despite trying to keep that embarrassing fact to themselves it showed now and then. There was a small ladder on the dusty floor to help reach the higher things, and Claudis unfurled it in the tight space, breathing musty air through her mouth. She stepped on the first step, moves on shakily onto the second, then felt a small wiggle beneath her. The ladder didn’t sit right on the ground. She went up one more step and suddenly, Claudis felt her world turn sideways, then heard a thud.