Time Odyssey: The Soul's Memory; Part I, Dreamtime

by J. F. Weckesser

Edak regained some composure. “Now we wait, grow more grass, then look for little animals.”

  * *

  Moons passed and Edak grew more golden marshgrass. When Ogra asked why he was raising more of the cursed plant, he explained this was a different variety, a better one, and that was why he was growing a larger plot of it. He still raised herbs for healing, but he spent his spare time clearing more suitable land, planting more of the hybrid grass. 

  When it was harvested, he and Klad again trekked into the forest with their bundles. Though they met no animals, they saw boar tracks. 

  As they had hoped, tiny tracks ran with the large ones—obviously babies, yet the hooves were about half-smaller than they should be. 

  He saved all of the seed now, planting in new fields and sending some to other communities. 

  After two years the forest seemed a bit quieter at night, a little less dangerous. Though he and Klad still ventured into the green terror, it didn’t seem as perilous.

  This was the hoped-for proof. More grass, greater quantities must be grown. The animal problem could be solved! 

  * * * *

  Chapter 14

  Queen Califia wiped her brow with the back of her plump hand. She took a deep breath and sighed. It was hot today, hotter than usual even for Mu, even for midsummer, and here in the sun it was its worst. Califia usually took a nap in the shade of her lodge during the torrid afternoons, but she’d been troubled of late and took her anguish to her favorite spot, the garden. 

  She glanced at the sun and her eyebrows arched in surprise. She’d been out here a full two hands. She sighed again. Was she wasting time here or accomplishing her duty during such thought sessions? It didn’t matter, for she needed to be here and that was that. 

  A flowery odor wafted through the air and she filled her lungs, letting the aroma delight her olfactory senses. How she loved this area behind the small palace. This was her special place, a haven where she could wander and sit and lose herself among floral friends. 

  Ginger was in bloom now and she especially loved its rich fragrance. She bent her thick frame over to bury her nose in a blossom, then closed her eyes to inhale. Ah, such ecstasy from this simple plant! She paused, then straightened up to caress the leaf lightly with her plump fingers, as she unconsciously did with each plant she passed. Every species was beautiful, each in its own way, and she loved them all. 

  Today her thoughts were of marshgrass and a twenty-two-year-old man called Edak. For nearly two years she had been receiving accounts which he sent to her of this remarkable plant. Each letter intrigued her more than the last, until finally she had sent a runner to beg for a visitation. That was two days ago, and the messenger Gedran had not yet returned. 

  Edak’s village stood a day’s journey down the river on foot. Gedran had armed himself with torches to frighten away any animal; also he wore strings of shells that clattered with each footfall to give any beast plenty of warning of his approach. Still, she worried for his safety, as she always did, until his return.

  She sat on a wooden bench in the shade of a large oleander and wiped her sweaty palms on her deep pink robe. Then she rubbed the tip of one thumbnail across the flat of the other and pondered. A small blossom fell from her head and she tucked it back into one of her thick braids, which were adorned with other flowers and shells. Then she resumed the absentminded thumb play in her lap. 

  Edak and his golden marshgrass, she mused. Might he really have the answer? She thought of his letters. He had written of the land he cleared, land no one wanted because of its location near the forest. There he planted his seed. 

  He talked of large animal tracks and signs of grazing, and of fish or milk, or goats that had died—anything Edak could obtain that a meat eater might feed upon. These he mixed with marshgrass and left as deep in the woods as he dared to go, hoping the carnivores would eat and be affected. And indeed they did eat, and their offspring were dwarfs. 

  What a brave deed, and selfless, too. She must meet this man, for perhaps he could make great changes in the land—in the world!

  A light breeze blew and for a moment she was cooled slightly. She yawned. The air was so still in her lodge. Would her attendant Thedar think her daft if she dozed out here? She looked around. He wasn’t here. This was his time also for rest. 

  She protruded her lower lip and exhaled a bit to blow a breeze up on her face. Then looking down at the bench she occupied, she surrendered. If I look the fool, she decided, then so be it. I’ll only rest a short while. 

  She lay her head on the wood plank and drew her ample legs up, cradling her head in her soft arm. It was comfortable enough, and soon she drifted off, dreaming of flowers and birds and ocean waves, and a faceless young man named Edak. 

  “Gracious Queen.” A tall, lean, balding man knelt at the bench and gently patted Califia’s hand. A golden ring held his graying hair at the nape. Around his neck hung the gold medallion of Mu, which shone bright against his lavender tunic. “Gedran has returned,” he continued softly. “He brings with him The Healer.” 

  Califia’s eyelids fluttered and she awoke. “Thank you, Thedar,” she said groggily. She rubbed her eyes and stretched. “Please, bring them here to the garden.” 

  Thedar left and returned shortly. Behind him followed Gedran, muscular and agile, the shells on his brown tunic chattering with each step. A few paces behind walked Edak, shy, hesitant, yet curious. His eyes found Califia, then glanced away lest she think him rude, then swept across the expanse of the garden, appreciating the beauty all about. A new light-brown tunic hung on his thin frame and his medallion had been polished to brilliance, all in honor of this visit. 

  Thedar and Gedran stood before the queen, who now sat regally on the bench, the few hairs that had strayed during the nap tucked into place and her robe straightened and proper. 

  Gedran placed his hands on opposite shoulders and bowed low. “Gracious Queen, I bring you Edak.” 

  Edak, standing behind the two escorts, stepped forward and bowed like Gedran. “Gracious Queen.” 

  Califia smiled. “Edak,” she said softly, her voice gentle like the rest of her. “How nice that we meet at last. Please, share this bench with me. I have read your letters with such interest. Although you are only twenty-two, you are like an old friend.” 

  Edak flushed slightly. “True, I am young, but I have not felt like a child in many years.” He found a place on the edge of the bench and sat. 

  Califia nodded. “Some people mature long before their bodies reach adulthood. This seems to be true of those with a special purpose.” 

  “A purpose? Perhaps; perhaps not. I merely work at what I am drawn most to.” He squirmed ever so slightly, sitting so close to the royal figure.” 

  Thedar and Gedran awkwardly lingered nearby, awaiting direction. Califia noticed her oversight. “Oh, dear assistants! I did not mean for your inconvenience. Gedran, you must be weary and quite hungry from your journey. Thedar, please see that he is fed and made comfortable, and bring refreshments for our guest...and of course, Thedar, yourself.”

  Thedar smiled and bowed as before. “Yes, Gracious Queen. With pleasure.” He left with Gedran. 

  Califia and Edak sat quietly and listened to the rhythmic rattle and clatter of Gedran’s shells fading off, until both men had entered the service lodge and the door was shut.

  Califia looked at Edak. “Was it an imposition, that I asked you here?”

  Edak smiled nervously. “No, no imposition. It is an honor to be your guest.” 

  “Then please, relax. I want you to be comfortable. Tell me about you and your family first, then your work and then the marshgrass.” 

  Edak relaxed slightly. “My family is well. I live with my mother and younger brother. My father died when I was a lad. Mother earns a living by making pottery for trade and selling goat milk. My brother Klad is sixteen and much different than myself. He is quite robust in body and spirit, whereas it is my mind that
is most active.” He smiled. “I never saw Klad so bedazzled as when Gedran appeared, running down our lane. Here was adventure and excitement, two things Klad most craves.”

  Califia laughed, then asked, “And what is it you crave most, Edak? What is dearest to your heart?” 

  Edak searched his thoughts. He remembered how fraught with worry Ogra was when she realized what her sons were doing, venturing into the woods with the marshgrass bait. Finally, Edak had sat with her while she formed a bowl of clay, and explained what they had been doing for moons. 

  Ogra continued to work the bowl, yet her expression revealed her concern. For a while she didn’t speak. At last she stopped, wiped her hands and looked hard into Edak’s eyes. “Edak, I cannot stop you, for you are a grown man. And, I understand why you do this. How could I forbid such noble action? Yet, I must implore that you allow no harm to come to yourself or to Klad. You are my sons, all that I have. If Klad or you were gone, I don’t know how I could take another breath. Klad is but of sixteen years and has never regarded danger as anything but fun. Please, Edak, keep this in mind. Keep him out of harm’s way, and certainly yourself.” 

  “Mother, of course. Klad is my brother, my only sibling. He is as dear to me as you.” He took her hand. “Try not to worry. We desire life as much as you want us to live.” 

  All the while Edak eased Ogra’s fears, yet he knew it was Klad who had protected Edak, for it was he himself who became too terrified to think or act coherently in moments of danger. 

  Ogra said no more, but went back to her work. Edak got up and gently placed his hand on her cheek, his lips resting atop her head. He imagined her thoughts. She knew her boys well. She also knew this needed to be done. There would be no more talk of these things. A mother must simply wait and hope. 

  Edak emerged from this flash of memory as Thedar quietly came out with a pitcher of tea he had prepared. He pulled a small stand over and placed the setting before them. The only sound besides a few birds’ twitters and a light breeze was of the hot liquid being poured into two ceramic cups, which Thedar placed before them. 

  He quietly left the garden and Califia cupped the steaming vessel with her hands to smell the herbal aroma. “You will like this, I think. It is rose and lemon grass.” 

  Edak inhaled the pungent steam and discovered he was no longer nervous before Califia. Thedar returned with a tray of food: grapes, guavas, mangoes and roasted breadfruit. To one side lay strips of smoked fish. All this he placed beside the pitcher.

  “Thank you, Thedar,” said Califia. “This is wonderful.” Thedar smiled, bowed and exited.

  “What is dearest to my heart?” said Edak at last. “My family, of course, but also my work. I enjoy helping others, with herbs, and with the sacred Energy. Yet my experiments intrigue me more and more.” 

  Califia gazed at Edak, waiting for more, but realized after a short while that this humble man did not ramble. “Please eat, for you’ve had a long journey. And tell me about your experiments as you do.” 

  Edak picked a small cluster of green grapes. “Well, as I have said on the letters, I have been testing golden marshgrass on animals and I have found it stunts their growth.” 

  “Does this grass cause any suffering at all?” 

  “No, Gracious Queen, not any that I can ascertain. Of course, I cannot watch the wild beasts closely, but I am in close contact with our goats daily. They frolic and play happily, every bit as healthy as their peers. They differ in size only.”

  Califia picked a slice of mango off the tray and took a small bite. “The offspring of your new goats—what size are they?”

  “So far, in two years, there have been no offspring. The ‘miniatures,’ as I prefer to call them, seem to be barren.” 

  Califia stopped eating, her eyebrows arched. “Barren! Do you realize what that could mean?” 

  Edak smiled, unable to hide his enthusiasm. “Yes, Gracious Queen, I surely do. If it is as I suspect—as I hope—we might be able to eliminate the great beasts altogether. Within the life span of one animal, perhaps eight to 10 years at the longest, all targeted creatures might be gone from the Earth forever.” 

  Califia swallowed the rest of the mango she had been chewing and pondered aloud. “It is a very big world. Yet, would not the other countries so threatened by these creatures be equally as willing to help? Of course!” She looked at Edak. “This is good news—such good news! Tell me how we may help.”

  Edak had hoped for such a request. “If you wish, Gracious Queen, I could send you seed from the marshgrass. Perhaps some of your subjects would consent to grow it and place it where the dangerous animals will find it.”

  Califia thought a moment. “That will work, but what of the carnivores, the most dangerous of all?” “

  “I have only started testing with them, putting the grass in animal carcasses and bowls of milk. I’ve yet to observe the results. I am hopeful.” 

  Califia smiled. “I am, too.” She clasped her hands together. “I am thrilled to think we may be the ones to make the world safer for everyone. You are honorable, Edak. Very honorable.” 

  Edak sipped his tea and basked shyly in Califia’s praise. He thought of the immense task before him. Yet, how much easier his burden now seemed, for Queen Califia herself accepted and approved of it, and even wants to help!

  He eagerly awaited the trip home in the morning to continue his work. 

  * * * *

  Chapter 15

  Midday sun beat mercilessly down on the swampland. It filtered through the trees and heated Edak’s back; yet the bottoms of his feet were cool and damp from the soft spongy floor of the fen and he ignored the sun’s rays. Here, where the golden marshgrass grew best, he pulled weeds, unmindful of the brown stain covering his legs up to his knees from the hidden holes of rotting vegetation. In fact, he enjoyed it a bit, for it reminded him of his childhood when he happily stepped into mud puddles, feeling the warm ooze seep between his toes. A breeze blew softly and he noticed the oleanders swaying, their pink blossoms attracting several bright orange butterflies the size of a man’s head. He wondered why oleanders are so poisonous to humans, yet safe for other species.

  Ogra’s voice from the house startled him. “Edak, you have visitors!” 

  He stood erect and arched his back to get a kink out. He looked toward the house and squinted. Did he recognize the man and woman who stood with Ogra? No, they were unfamiliar to him. 

  He hurried up the hill and greeted them with arms outstretched, sensing tenseness and distress in their expressions. “I am Edak. Welcome to my family home.” 

  “I am Singor,” said the tall gaunt woman with sunken eyes. “This is my brother Dradok.” The man seemed in the same condition of poor health.  Singor clasped arms with Edak, then waited while Edak greeted Dradok. 

  “Please pardon our intrusion,” said Dradok. “I assure you, we would not have taken you from your work without good cause.” 

  “It is no trouble,” said Edak, opening the door. “Come in out of the heat and we will talk in comfort.”

  Ogra was gathering tinder at the hearth as they entered. “Good woman,” said Singor, “do not trouble yourself to make a fire for tea. The day is warm and we would be grateful merely for water.” 

  Ogra smiled. “It is no trouble at all. But a fire would not cool us from the sun, would it? She gathered cups and filled them with water from the clay jug at the door.

  Dradok emptied the cup immediately. “Thank you. The walk was long—and the road dusty.” He smiled at Ogra and handed the cup to her, his eyes begging for a refill, then turned to Edak. “We are desperately in need of a healer and were told you are the best. Are you for hire?” 

  Edak’s face flushed and he swallowed the water in his mouth. “Thank you for the compliment. I share my knowledge of herbs and healing, but no, I am not for hire. What I do, I do in service. There is no set fee. You may pay me what you think I am worth, or nothing at all if you are without fun
ds. The Source has always taken care of my needs, one way or another. How may I help you?” 

  Dradok’s expression was saturnine and he clasped and unclasped his sinewy hands as he spoke. “A fever has come to our house. A fortnight ago my sister and I were taken by it. Bad at first, it gradually ebbed. We are still regaining our strength. Yet our mother took the fever four days ago and has not come out of it. She talks strangely and refuses to take food or water.” 

  He stopped wringing his hands, and looked hard into Edak’s face. “We are so worried for her,” he beseeched. “Can you help?”

  Edak put his cup down. “Let us go to her now and see what can be done.” 

  Visibly relieved, they thanked Ogra for her kindness. 

  “I don’t know when I’ll return, Mother,” said Edak. 

  Ogra smiled, a hint of pride in her eyes. “Do what needs to be done. Klad and I are fine.” 

  Singor fastened her veil about her face as she stepped outside, exposing only her eyes. The sun was harsh and she and Dradok squinted from the brightness. The light didn’t bother Edak much, but he hadn’t been sick and was used to working outdoors. As they walked, he questioned them about their mother. “Has she perspired at all?” “Does she drink any liquids?” “Has she vomited?” “Had loose stool?” “Does she wheeze?” “Have you felt or listened to her heartbeat?” “Does it seem particularly rapid or slow?”

  Near the river, Edak stopped at a large willow. He studied it for a moment, then broke off a branch. “Remember this type of tree,” he instructed, “so you can use it in the future.” 

  In the heart of town near the marketplace, amid noisy confusion and smells of stalls, donkeys and children, sat Singor’s and Dradok’s small hut. 

  Dradok opened the heavy wooden door and they stepped in. The moist, fetid smell of sickness assaulted his nostrils. He paused for his eyes to accustom themselves to the subdued light. 

  Near the middle of the room next to the hearth he made out the tiny form of an older woman, shrunken with dehydration and lack of food, thrashing and muttering incoherently on her mat. Hair disheveled, she rolled her fevered head from side to side. An older man crouched by the mat, face wrinkled with deep worry. He attempted to keep a damp cloth atop her brow.