The Adventures of Tremain & Christopher BoxSet

by Terry Marchion

  “Please, tell me about it.” He put his hand over hers. She smiled a little at that, glancing behind her shoulder at Dorin. He was still fishing, his attention fully on the lake.

  “When I was little, I ran away.” She started. “I wanted to see the lake at night, but got lost. I walked for a long time through the trees. I remember coming to a place where the trees opened up and I could see the mountains and hills in the moonlight. I didn’t see the lake at all and was going to look and see if it was just over the hill. I walked away from the trees and it wasn’t there, then just like that, it was! It was so big, I couldn’t see the end of it no matter where I looked. I was so scared! I remember screaming and running back through the trees. The next thing I remember was being in my own bed, my mother sitting next to me.” Her eyes were as large as saucers as she told her story. Christopher could imagine how scared she must have been.

  “Then what happened?”

  She swallowed.

  “The Ka-tahn came to me and told me not to run away anymore.” Her eyes took on a mischievous gleam. “But I did. I wanted to see it again before the ceremony.” She stood up and wiped the dirt and small stones from her seat. “So after chores, I would walk in different directions. Everywhere I went, the wall appeared. Sometimes I walked longer, sometimes shorter, but every time, the Godswall stopped me.”

  Christopher stood up and looked away from the lake.

  “I’d love to see this wall myself.” He said softly. Tika shook her head.

  “You can’t. Not unless you go after chores and nobody catches you. The only people allowed to see the wall are the Mehdi witches. They go to talk to the Gods.” As she spoke, she pointed behind her, into the trees. Looking over her shoulder, Christopher caught her meaning.

  “The wall is that way, I guess?” She nodded almost imperceptibly, so Dorin, who was walking back to them, fish in hand, wouldn’t see. Christopher picked his pack back up and started walking over to the trees. Dorin stopped him.

  “Where are you going?”

  Christopher hopped from one foot to the other.

  “Well . . . what do you think? I need to . . . you know . . .” and nodded his head to the trees. Dorin sneered and let out a bark of a laugh.

  “Go ahead. We’re heading back soon.” Christopher walked to the trees.

  As he walked deeper into the forest, he turned back, but couldn’t see the others. Good. Tika said the Godswall was this way and he intended to see it for himself. He did need to relieve himself, that part wasn’t a ruse. He found a rather thick tree and did just that then kept walking. The others talked about a wall as if it were something frightening. He couldn’t remember any stories or reading anything about a wall that kept everyone penned in. Certainly, nothing like that existed on New Earth. But if they weren’t on New Earth, where were they? Once he saw the wall with his own eyes, he might be able to start figuring this whole thing out . . . with his uncle’s help, of course.

  The trees grew thicker, as if they were trying to impede his way. He stopped walking and listened. It was so quiet. Not a bird could be heard in the branches above him. There was no wind. He scratched his head and looked over his shoulder. He could almost feel like someone was watching him. He shook his head and kept walking, albeit more slowly. His mind was just playing tricks on him because it was so quiet. He suddenly found himself at the tree line. He could see the hill gently cresting and sloping down and away. Beyond, he could see more trees and forest with a mountain range in the far distance. Clouds drifted among the mountaintops. Altogether, it was breathtaking.

  He turned his attention back to the trees. They had just stopped at almost a clean break, which just didn’t seem natural to Christopher. He turned and looked down the line of trees. They faded into the distance, in almost a straight line. Very curious indeed. He turned in the opposite direction. The trees did the exact same thing. Definitely not natural. But why? He took two more steps away from the trees and was about to take a third when the view before him shimmered and abruptly changed.

  Gone was the sloping hill, the forest stretching into the distance, the drifting clouds and the far off mountain range. He took a deep breath, arms slack at his sides and stared at the Godswall.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Tremain woke with the sunrise. He sat up and stretched. The sleep had done him some good. He felt refreshed and ready to tackle the mounting problem of where they were and what had to be fixed.

  Running his hands through his thick hair, he watched his nephew sleeping. He smiled a little, remembering him as a young boy. Always eager to help, always curious. Some things hadn’t changed, but the boy had grown up, hadn’t he? Sitting back down, he started rummaging through his pockets, looking for some paper or something to write on. He had a plan in mind, but thought if they split up, they might accomplish more apart than together. He had a feeling that time was slipping away from them.

  Time.

  He stifled a snort of disgust at the way his mind worked. Time was something they had very little of anyway, thanks to him.

  Finding an old scratch paper in his lab coat pockets and a nub of a pencil, he quickly scribbled out a note to Christopher and placed it on the table. He left the cabin, quietly closing the door-flap behind him. Walking into the square, he saw a little girl struggling with a tray full of containers, some of which were steaming. Seeing him, she gave a little start of surprise.

  “Oh! I was coming to bring these to you and the other one.” She stammered. A huge smile came over Tremain’s face as he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, taking in the aromas.

  “My dear, this is exactly what the doctor ordered.” He sat down next to the smoldering embers of the center fire and patted a rock next to him. “Come and sit for a little. Christopher is still sleeping so I don’t think he’ll mind.”

  She sat next to Tremain, who surveyed the variety of foods briefly before snatching up a bowl. Smacking his lips as he finished the contents, he took a long look at the girl. She couldn’t have been more than nine or ten years old and she stared at him, wide eyed, her mouth hanging open. Smiling he asked,

  “Do I need to wipe my mouth again?”

  She closed her mouth, blinked a few times, and then looked away.

  “Everyone was talking about you strangers yesterday.”

  “And?”

  “And you look the same as everyone. I thought you’d look . . . different.”

  Tremain chuckled a little.

  “Just because we’re strangers, doesn’t mean we are strange.” He gave her a wink. “We’re the same people. Christopher and I just come from a . . . different place than this.”

  Hearing a sound behind him, he turned to see the Ka-tahn leaving his home. He stood up. “Better take the rest to my nephew now, my dear. Thank you for my breakfast.” He patted her gently on the head as she took the tray and walked down the path to the other huts. Tremain turned to the Ka-tahn, who was reaching the square. Other men were coming over, some carrying armloads of wood. The old man shuffled over, walking staff in hand, to Tremain, who waited patiently.

  “Are we well met this morning?” His steely eyes piercing in their gaze.

  “I slept very well, thank you.” Tremain indicated the village. “I thought I would learn more about your people today.”

  The Ka-tahn nodded.

  “That is good. I wish to learn more about yours too.” He smiled at the younger man. Tremain shuffled his feet a little and cleared his throat.

  “Ah, yes . . . I’m not sure what I can really say about my people . . .” he trailed off, putting his hand on the back of his neck as he thought, distracted by some women laying out garlands of fragrant flowers. Some were carrying huge cooking pots to the central fire. Tremain looked over at the Ka-tahn, his eyes asking the question for him. The old man, leaning on his staff, nodded towards the women.

  “They prepare for the coming of age ceremony.” He paused for a moment. “Each year, the children who have reached the age of adult
hood take the pilgrimage to the Godswall.” He sighed. “There they see what the Gods show them. Some come back,” He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “Many do not. They are taken by the Gods.”

  Tremain’s eyebrows shot up.

  “W-what do you mean? They are taken?”

  The Ka-tahn looked up at Tremain, the years weighing heavily on him.

  “The Gods see fit to take many of our children, just coming of age. Each year, our numbers decline. It is a blessing to the family to be so recognized by the Gods, but it is also very hard. To lose so many at once is very difficult for the family but also for our tribe.” He straightened and shuffled towards the women arranging the garlands. “But who are we to question the will of the Gods?”

  There were six hand woven garlands in all, each one beautiful. The flowers were exquisitely arranged, each color combination bright and vivid. Tremain was taken with the artistry.

  “These are very lovely” He murmured to the women as he walked past, who smiled and bowed their heads, happy to have been noticed. They walked on, deeper into the village. Tremain noticed all the buildings were similar in size, with few exceptions. Each had similar construction too. The Ka-tahn, noticing Tremain’s interest, pointed at some of the buildings.

  “They are quite comfortable. The Anhj do a very good job keeping things maintained too. That one there,” He pointed his staff at a larger hut, “was built when I was a small boy. It still housed two families up until a year ago.” Tremain, his curiosity piqued, turned to the old man.

  “What happened then?” The Ka-tahn stopped and a weary sadness filled his face.

  “The two children who lived there were of the same age. They took their pilgrimage. Both were taken by the Gods.” His shoulders stooped and he sighed. “When it was apparent their children were not coming back, the parents took their own pilgrimage.” His eyes were piercing as he looked at Tremain. “They were taken as well. One was a prominent Anhj. His loss was very difficult for us.” He shook his head and moved on. Tremain, who had paused in astonishment, quickly jogged back up to keep pace with the Ka-tahn. His mind was reeling from the news. This was totally alien to what knew of his own past. Where had they ended up?

  They walked a little further into the village, when the old man stopped at one of the huts. He turned to Tremain and pointed at the door.

  “Inside is one of our teachers. He will be able to answer all your questions about our people and our history.” He knocked. A younger man opened the door, his eyes questioning. When he saw the Ka-tahn, he quickly smiled and opened the door wider, beckoning the visitors to enter.

  “Ka-tahn!” He moved aside to let them pass the threshold. “How nice it is to see you today.” His gaze turned to Tremain, his eyes getting huge when he realized who Tremain was. “And one of the strangers too!” He shut the door and led them through the small entryway into a larger room. Tremain realized he was mistaken about the simplicity of the huts. This was considerably larger than the one where he and Christopher had spent the night. In the sitting room, an older man sat, sipping from a container of water. He attempted to stand when he saw the Ka-tahn, who promptly motioned him to stay seated.

  “Please, old friend, don’t bother yourself. We are too old to be so formal.” He moved to a cushion and sat down heavily, leaning his staff against the wall. Tremain moved to the chair offered to him by the younger man, who then busied himself pouring water for the newcomers, bustling around as if he was an old housewife. The Ka-tahn chuckled to himself. He motioned to Tremain. “This is one of the strangers. He asks about our people. I thought you would be more than eager to answer his questions.” The man nodded solemnly, his eyes never leaving Tremain’s.

  “What would you wish to know?” The old man asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper. His rheumy eyes looking at Tremain with interest. Tremain cleared his throat.

  “Well . . . ah . . .” He glanced at the Ka-tahn. “I understand your people came to this land and are kept here by your Godswall.”

  The old man nodded.

  “But you had to come from somewhere else first?” He held his hands out, questioning. The old man looked over to his friend before answering. He played with his container of water while he spoke.

  “There was a time of hardship. That much was known to my father and his father before him. The stories weren’t told to me before they both went to the Gods.” He cleared his throat slowly and loudly. Tremain swallowed hard, trying not to grimace. “There were many more of us in those days. What came before that, I don’t know.”

  The younger man stammered out an agreement, startling Tremain, who hadn’t realized he had sat next to him.

  “Sneaky, aren’t you?” He murmured. The younger man seemed not to notice.

  “Father, tell him about your own coming of age pilgrimage.”

  The old man shook his head.

  “No, that is not a story for strangers.”

  The Ka-tahn patted his friend on the forearm, comforting him.

  “It is ok, Jermin. I don’t think it will do any harm.”

  Jermin nodded, gathering his thoughts.

  “As you wish. I took my pilgrimage alone.” He started. “Others went in pairs, but I was more timid in those days and hung back. I was the last to venture out.” He cleared his throat again, took another sip or two of water, and then stared at the cup as he dredged up the memories. “I remember the path to the Godswall was silent. Too quiet for my imagination, which was the worst part. I conjured up so many things to be scared about.” He chuckled about his younger self. “But I kept walking. Soon, the trees parted and the wall appeared out of nowhere.” He looked up as if reliving the moment. “There it was, everywhere I looked.” He pointed out in front of himself, directly at Tremain. “And right in front of me was the portal.” He wrung his hands at the memory. “Oh, I was so scared. I approached the portal slowly, not sure what I was to do. I took my garland and placed with the others that had been laid there before mine.” He raised his trembling hands into the air. “As I stood, the portal opened to me.” His eyes were unfocused, the memory of that time overpowering him. “It opened to me.” He nodded to Tremain, reinforcing his statement. “It was so dark I could not see past the entry. I tried to enter, but my feet wouldn’t move. I was too frightened. There was a sound like none I had ever heard. I looked around me, trying to see what had made that sound, but when I looked back, the portal had started to close. I was missing my chance to visit with the Gods! My feet remembered how to move then and I leaped forward, but it was too late.” He dropped his hands down to the table and sighed heavily. “I waited there, hoping the portal would open again, but it did not.” He bowed his head in his shame. “I walked back to the village, where my family was happy to see me return. When I told them my story, they took me to the Ka-tahn,” He placed his gnarled hand on the Ka-tahn’s shoulder, “your father. You hadn’t yet returned from your own pilgrimage.” He patted his friend’s shoulder. “He told me the Gods must have made the noise to keep me from entering, knowing I had a greater purpose.” He looked up at Tremain, his eyes bright with pride. “I became a teacher. I feel that was a most gratifying purpose.”

  Tremain sat in silence for a while, absorbing the story. It was fantastic, to be sure, but what was this wall? He sat straighter as he formulated his next question.

  “Does anyone know what the wall is?” The others stared back at him. Apparently, nobody had ever thought about it before. Jermin’s son motioned as if he was going to speak, but stayed silent, looking down. Tremain looked to Jermin, then the Ka-tahn, who finally spoke.

  “It is the Godswall and is unknown to us. The Gods wish us to remain in their garden and show the wall when we venture too far.” He raised his hands off the table. “Why they wish us to stay, I can’t tell. Who are we . . .”

  “ . . . to question the will of the Gods.” Tremain finished for him. “Yes, I think I’ve heard that a time or two before.” He cleared his throat, his irritation buil
ding. “It seems to me you all have given up a very important thing here.” The Ka-tahn’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, amused at the stranger’s words.

  “What would that be?”

  “Curiosity!” Tremain stood up and slapped the table with both hands, making Jermin’s son jump. “I hear about a mysterious wall that appears out of nowhere and I want to know what it is. You all just accept it as the Gods’ will and go on.” He stood up straight, ran his hands through his hair and dropped them to his sides. “I don’t understand why you are content to be . . . penned in like livestock rather than explore.” He looked to the Ka-tahn. “That is the human spirit I know.” He turned towards the door, which opened to admit a wizened old woman.

  She shuffled into the room, helped by a younger girl. Her hair was pure white and was all tousled and tangled. What Tremain could see of her wrap was wrinkled, the rest was covered by a knit shawl that wrapped around her shoulders and down her back. Her face was thin, her nose long and crooked, but her eyes were clear and bright. Tremain thought she was the very picture that inspired witches. She cackled as she saw Tremain standing there, mouth agape.

  “Ha. So this is the stranger.” She came to him and stared up into his eyes. Tremain stood there, not sure what he should do. She nodded, then made her way to a free cushion and sat down, sighing as she did so. “I am not impressed.”

  The Ka-tahn, indicated the old woman. The young girl who had assisted her had slipped out the door once she was situated.

  “This is Marla. She’s Mehdi.”

  She nodded in recognition of the introduction, her eyes never leaving Tremain. He shifted a little, glanced from Marla to the Ka-tahn and back again. He held his hands out.

  “And?” he sat back down, folding his hands in front of him. “Forgive me, that wasn’t very gentlemanly. From what I understand, the Mehdi . . . commune with the Gods?”

  Marla stuck her chin up, her eyes still ablaze.

  “This is truth. The Mehdi interpret the will of the Gods.”