by B L Barkey
It was like so many things, all at once. It was like food after a hard day of work. It was like girls laughing around a campfire on a beach. It was beauty. It was treasure. It was thrilling and exhausting. And yet, at the same time, he could feel a new energy rising within him.
“I’m getting hungry,” he finally said, his stomach growling. They both laughed, then stretched their sore muscles.
“Mum said she’s making banana pie tonight,” Mikael mumbled with a sly smile, still staring off into the distance.
Ammon leapt up and took off down the trail. He knew he was being dramatic, but still. He really did love banana pie. Plus, Mikael was always faster when going downhill. Ammon would need the head start. The boys sprang down the mountain, releasing deep exhales in time with heavy footfalls. They had about another hour left of descent as the Sun relinquished the skies to the moon. The waxing moonlight would guide them through a different world, while the evening air would nourish them.
The night was far from over. Tonight was the annual celebration of the Wind Caves. At the excitement of all to come, chasing his brother down the mountain, Ammon thought, What a great night it will be.
Chapter VI
Interlude - The Master Levitian
They have found another?” Lyon asked.
“Sadly so,” said Torin. He was in suppressed human form, having stepped down from his glory to the physical realm.
“Which one?” asked Lyon.
“Wavelengths. Lightning and energy.”
“No…” Lyon whispered to the flower in his hand. It wilted from utter despair. “That is the Stone of Light. The first in the order of the Seven.”
“Yes. And it won’t be the last. They will be coming for you soon, though they have yet to locate your island. They desire yours most of all,” Torin said with slight amusement. “Cephas Island. The island of matter and rock. A good place to begin, though it may be their end.”
“So it’s really happening. It shouldn’t surprise me. It was written in the sky from the beginning. It’s just never felt this… real,” Lyon exhaled.
“Mmm. It’s the same for me,” Torin said.
Lyon nodded. Torin’s words gave him comfort.
“How are the children?” Torin asked, lacing his fingers together.
“Good. Very good. Several of them are promising, though none are for certain. It’s tough to find ones to bare such heavy burdens.”
“And the two brothers?”
“Very inquisitive. Insatiably adventurous. Two to keep our eyes on, for sure,” said Lyon.
“And the one?” Torin asked, his voice soft.
“We have some concerns with him. He is a wonderful person, incredibly intent. But… well, we have spoken of it before. He lacks certain experiences.”
“Oh?” Torin asked.
“I have discussed it with her recently. She who wields Matter, who would be his master, his Lehrer. She says he is suffering. They taunt him through dreams, as I’m sure you know. Morningstar is strong in that realm, now that he has the Stone of Voids.”
Torin nodded.
Lyon cleared his throat before continuing. “There are three things yet to be seen from him. First, we would like to see him feel a deeper love for another. Romance, it seems, even at the risk of losing it. Such feelings are powerful beyond comprehension.
“Second, we want to see if he can withstand a vortex. We all know the challenges he would undergo if she took him under her wings. Many desires would pull on his heart. He has yet to be tried in this way. We need to see if he can resist.
“Lastly. He lacks experience in facing true darkness. She knows it’s not his fault. Darkness has yet to return to our island. And once it does…,” he drifted off. “Even so, we want to see him face it and confront it at least once. She has high expectations to match our high hopes.”
Torin hummed his approval. “These are three great trials. Love. Temptation. Darkness. Each a vortex of their own.”
He grinned even wider. “We need the one to be daring. Brave. Free, but not reckless. Nigh a rule-breaker. A free-thinker. Balanced.”
“Mmm,” grumbled Lyon. “A fine line.”
“That it is,” said Torin, placing a hand on Lyon’s shoulder.
“To find the line is one thing. To choose a side is another. But to walk the line? To toe it, knowing the dangers inherent within? Now that is true strength.”
Lyon’s heart grew warm then as they stood in silence.
Torin ended the silence, all but breaking it, and instead reshaping it into meaning. “I would like to see which element of Creation he seeks most. Any guesses?”
“Oh yes. It’s perplexing, actually. He shows understanding and desire to grasp them all, though he lacks understanding of any Stone entirely. That usually comes with time. He is only eighteen, after all.”
“Hmm. Eight years he’s been at your Leviticum, learning the ways of the world. Eight. The number of balance. Also balanced in his understandings. Do you think maybe he could be the next?”
Lyon chuckled. “Torin, you would know better than me.”
Torin boomed with pleasant vibrations, lighting the room by igniting dust particles into sparks. “Indeed! But you know how I am. I enjoy being human from time to time.”
Torin stepped closer to Lyon and patted his shoulder. “You are the last island for a reason. You are very special to me, dear one. You will tread the right paths. I trust you.”
Lyon smirked. “Seeing as we are the last Horizon Island of the seven? I would daresay you have no other choice but to trust us.”
Torin’s eyes grew bright. “I would daresay you are right.”
Lyon turned and walked back from the window, leaving Torin to look at the vibrant, green valley, full of sunshine. The day was bright and growing.
Finally, Lyon asked the question which weighed heaviest on his heart. It had remained there for ten years, though he had tried to suppress it. “Torin, I must know. I’ve tried to ignore this desire, knowing it won’t change anything, that it might even worsen the pain. Yet now it seems more important than ever... How did Gwendolyn die?”
Torin folded his hands behind his back.
“They had found her island,” Torin said softly. “Darkness took root in the heart of one of their youth. They swept in, claiming the land and child for their own. In doing this, they drew close to your island. Knowing the importance of the Stone of Matter, Gwen led them away from you, instead of fleeing for her life. She died with valiant bravery. Fought to the very end.”
Lyon held back his tears. He had known the Wielder of the Void Stone. They had met during one of the Counsels of Light many years ago. He saw her every couple of years after that, fascinated by her beauty and intellect. She was his first love, before he had met his wife.
“And they for sure took her Creation Stone?” he asked, nudging his feelings aside.
Torin nodded. Lyon looked away.
“But remember,” said Torin, placing his hand on Lyon’s slumped shoulder. “She was Litiguh, a wielder. Wielders fuse their hearts with the Creation Stone, while the dark ones… They imprison the Stones, caging them in their own desires. Their hard hearts become a cell with no key. They imprison themselves, their only escape to be death. They are then ripped apart and forgotten by the Stone.”
He sniffed. “They call themselves wielders too, using our words and meanings in vain, as they always do. But they make mockery of it. They don’t wield the power. They imprison it. Abuse it.
“Light wielders befriend the spirit within the Creation Stone,” Torin continued. “In this way, wielders become unified in a nigh unbreakable way. They befriend the Stone. They understand it. They fall in love with it. All this to say, she will be a part of the Stone of Energy forever. She will be watching.”
The breeze picked up slightly. Lyon smiled. “They will all be watching him.”
“Yes, I believe they will,” Torin agreed. Another pause came and went before he continued. “Should they
need more guidance, they will find me in their study of the Stones, as well as in their experiential learning of life. It will guide them, as will… other things.”
“What other things?” Lyon asked.
Torin beamed.
“I am always calling to my creations, Lyon. Some days more than others. Just like the wind. But it’s always up to them, whether they want to listen, and how they will act upon it. Choice will always be yours, unless you choose to give this power away. It was a gift given unto you at the start of your mortal journey. That’s kind of the point,” Torin winked.
Lyon turned back, asking the greatest question of all. “Is there a chance we could fail?”
“Oh yes. All of your choices will culminate into one finale. Though I cannot tell you the chances of success, I will say this. There’s great chance of failure.”
Torin stepped closer to his son. “You will not fail. Proelum can do it.”
“What will you be doing?” Lyon asked.
“I’ll be around. I’ll place limits on myself, lest I get bored. I would say creators get especially bored, if we are complacent for too long. We must be challenged and given tools to succeed. We do poorly with idle hands. Boredom is my least favorite of all things.”
“Knowing you, it is still a favorite, though,” Lyon teased.
Torin laughed. Lyon joined him once more at the window.
“And so it begins,” said Lyon.
“I do love beginnings,” Torin said.
And they watched from the east. They looked over the island to Cloud Mountain. They watched the two brothers bounding through the trees, hoping the young boys would be strong enough for the coming trials.
Chapter VII
High Forest
Gravity pulled the brothers down the mountain trail. The moon was nearly full, rising far above the horizon before the Sun had vanished, hence seeming to break the laws of nature in its desire to beam down upon them. It floated above the distant Leviticum as a grey face, emanating the warmth of a small sun amidst the seeping brisk of the evening.
With the waves of cool night came the fireflies, as if summoned to light their path. Crickets played symphonies on their violin legs. Another insect, called a ‘thrum’, resembled the cricket, though it was thirty times larger and produced the deeper strum of a cello, often while thumping on the hollow branches where it burrowed and lived. Altogether surrounding them was a cacophony of light and sound that injected elation into the veins of even the weariest of souls.
Suddenly, there was movement in the bushes. A great rush of noise came, followed by a smiling brown-and-black face of slobber. It was Tobias, their family dog. He bounded around them with sheer bliss, his black ears flopping and white tail wagging to some unsung melody weaved into the wind instruments of the crickets and thrums. Tobias didn’t like Mirror Lake. He was petrified of it, scarred from his last experience, when one of the giant fish had rushed him. Ammon thought any of the three fish could swallow Tobias whole, though he didn’t think they would do such a thing. Still, he was fine with letting Tobias wander the outskirts far from the lake.
No matter the distance, Tobias would always find Ammon. The dog knew the island better than anyone. He would often run off with his girlfriend, sometimes disappearing for days. His girlfriend was a wolf, for whom Ammon harbored a great fondness. Her name was L'Nala, which meant ‘forever flower’.
Despite the beauty of his she-wolf, Tobias would always return from romping in the woods, desperate to see his master. Though he was the family dog, it was clear whom he was most loyal to.
It was actually quite entertaining. Anytime they would look back, Tobias was staring at Ammon. Even if his girlfriend had showed up, distracting him, he seemed to glare at Ammon, always watching. One time, Ammon had been in the house with Tobias outside in the yard. Ammon then ran from window to window, looking out at his pup. Every time, Tobias was already staring at him, as if in possession of some coveted super-vision.
Ammon scratched Tobias’s fluffy ears, causing him to groan with delight. They continued on, with Tobias protecting them from such serious threats as villainous squirrels and exploding acorn landmines.
Mikael passed Ammon again in the last mile of trail with Tobias right on his heels. The mountain spring appeared on their left as they veered over for a drink. The spring was replenished from both water below and a cascading waterfall of about fifty-feet high. The pool from the spring was wide, though it was only about six-feet deep, rising just above the heads of Ammon and Mikael.
They would often swim in this spring, to the chagrin of the elders. Most people loved to come down to the spring and meditate, drinking the fresh water. A grimy boy like himself swimming in a source of drinking water was discouraged.
After such dips in the spring, Ammon’s dirty blonde hair and tanned skin would feel pristine, even surreal, as if nature knew just how to care for his body. The spring water was special. Many accounts existed of people experiencing enlightened thoughts around the spring and its grove.
It granted them with fresh ideas for self-improvement. Ammon himself would drink the spring water both at the bottom and top of the trail. When he did this, he was never sore the next day. It was incredible, leading him to write inspired thoughts in his journal. It could have been the water, or the endorphins, or both that inspired these thoughts. But he chose to believe in the spring.
Holding onto his beliefs, he had looked for reasons as to why the spring water held rejuvenating qualities. The spring water spent its life coursing through different mediums of nature. It fell from the sky void of impurity, showering vivacious trees and tracing patterns in their bark. It then weaved into underground tunnels too small for ants, while collecting minerals and new stories.
Thus, each raindrop found its own path, sharing the same origin and destination, though by infinite paths. The water was then either evaporated or taken into another plant, animal, or human, to be used and recycled once more. This water had memories. It was alive, in a way. Water never forgets, he thought. He smiled. These were Father’s words.
The two brothers and Tobias picked up momentum, then climbed the stone staircase to High Forest. This is my last chance to beat Mikael to the top. He waited for Mikael to drop his guard, then doubled his pace. He felt weightless as he closed the gap. With little left to go, Ammon pulled up next to Mikael, who was smiling and breathing steady. He then sped up, keeping pace with Ammon.
They arced over the last step, and… It was a tie. “Next time,” Mikael said, shoving his brother while both gasped for air.
They entered the family of trees, brushing aside rebellious pine fingers reaching out from the trunks. There were thousands of these trees, all varying in size, color, and spread. They were close together, causing even Tobias to weave hither and thither. As they started the dance into the trees, Ammon sighed with relief.
He had always felt safe within High Forest. The trees were a barrier from the outside, consciously protecting their humans, with pinecone traps set beneath to capture any threats. Other pine trees could be found throughout the North Mounts, though none grew as lively as the ones in High Forest.
The trees ended almost in a line as they entered a small clearing. During the night, all houses were lit from the inside, whilst glistening from the outside as moonlight reflected from showered sap.
Each home was modest in size, blending into the surroundings. The beauty was in the individuality of each home. All had started with the same basic shape, with various extensions added over time. Some grew outward, constructing patios, balconies, or additional rooms. Others extended underground, creating insulated basements of one or more levels. Ammon’s best friend Bastion had the largest basement of them all, harboring his own elaborate zoo.
They strolled past the House of Iceland, which belonged to a rather remarkable Cephasonian family. Father Iceland was the leader of the Sector Guard. He would become their mentor, should they enter and pass the Trials. Guardian Iceland had one dau
ghter, Sadie, whom was the same age as Ammon. She was a stunning woman. So much so that Ammon often found himself thinking of her blonde hair and sassy smile.
Her father, on the other hand, was infamously intimidating. He would appear in High Forest at random intervals, yet never ceased to be watching all things. The trees, the wind, the sky. Your walk, your mood. He watched everything, and you could feel it. Only when Lady Iceland was beside him did he look somewhat relaxed. He clearly loved his wife with all his heart, which may have been why he worked so diligently to protect their island.
With all this, he seemed to have only one weakness. He was hopelessly smitten by his daughter since the very hour of her birth. He was there for her first breath, and for every other monumental moment. In between, however, he was at the Temple, working hard to protect them all. His consistent absence was difficult for her to accept, but she managed. Or so she had told Ammon.
Sadie and Ammon had grown up together. They had played in the mud, swam in shallow waters, built sand castles, dug sand holes, built blanket forts, and even kissed, all before the age of seven. Once the kissing began to light fires in their bellies, they spent less time together, though the shorter time was better for it. Less quantity, more quality.
Gradually, their hearts had laced together as they grew up. It was difficult for Ammon to put into words. Love seemed like an understatement. They were connected, laced together through experiences, memories, and attraction. And they kept it secret and sacred, even from each other.
After several more minutes of jogging, the boys approached their home. Next to it was a damp, wooden sign with the words ‘The Delkai Family’ carved into it. Ammon knew if he walked closer to it, he would see smaller letters etched into the bottom that read ‘plus one’. Bastion had carved it in eight years ago.
Their home was one that extended upwards. Father Delkai was obsessed with the cosmos. Any related topic of it sucked him in like a black hole. Mother teased him for building her a house with a staircase to the stars, often with a tone of endearment in her voice. They had three floors stretching towards the sky, a small basement for storage, and another cylinder that extended from the roof and supported the newest room at its peak.
