by Duane Alston
JALABY’S JOURNEY
By Duane Alston
Jalaby’s Journey
Copyright ©2017 Duane Alston
Cover design Copyright © 2017 Duane Alston
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the book Author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Dedicated to my parents, Elmer and Lois
I wish you were here.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1..............................................................5
Chapter 2.............................................................10
Chapter 3.............................................................13
Chapter 4.............................................................19
Chapter 5.............................................................23
Chapter 6.............................................................26
Chapter 7.............................................................32
Chapter 8.............................................................35
Chapter 9.............................................................39
Chapter 10............................................................44
Chapter 11............................................................48
Chapter 12............................................................53
Chapter 13............................................................56
Chapter 14............................................................62
Chapter 15............................................................67
Chapter 16............................................................73
Chapter 17............................................................78
Chapter 18............................................................83
Chapter 19............................................................89
Chapter 20............................................................93
Chapter 21............................................................99
Chapter 22...........................................................102
Chapter 23...........................................................106
Chapter 24...........................................................111
Chapter 25...........................................................115
Chapter 26...........................................................119
Chapter 27...........................................................124
Chapter 28...........................................................128
Chapter 29...........................................................133
Chapter 30...........................................................139
Chapter 31...........................................................143
Chapter 32...........................................................148
Chapter 33...........................................................152
Chapter 34...........................................................157
Chapter 35...........................................................162
Chapter 36...........................................................167
Chapter 1
Ten years after the great war, the winter seemed to hold its grip much longer on the village of Bridgetown, and all said the temperatures would continue shifting downward in the world of the Onan, according to Vera the eldest woman predictor. All the known people west of Crieton River had withdrawn into themselves and into their respective parts of the known land of Aeternie. The Onan, the Tera, the Basara, and the Urals, once having joined together to defeat the forces outside Aeternie, during the period of Crieton's Fog, now seemed to want no reminder of this, to the point of desiring total isolation. The Onan were now content to apply themselves to the basics of life: food, shelter, and warmth. The Onan village of Bridgetown was the home of Jalaby Stebon.
Jalaby looked a bit older than his nineteen years, probably since he was two inches shy of being six feet tall and was lean and strong for his age. His face was of medium complexion with a proportional nose and broad cheeks. It was often necessary for him to brush back his light brown hair from a fairly handsome face that seemed to always wear a thoughtful expression. Jalaby lived with his Uncle, Lindsay Stebon, on a farm just outside Bridgetown and very near the site of the final battle in the Great War. Jalaby knew of the Great War from tales that his Uncle told incessantly and in all of his nineteen years he had never grown tired of the stories. He sat now as he had for countless evenings after lessons and work, by the great hearth of Endless House, listening intently to the hundredth or more telling of the battle of Onan Tower. The only difference from the past was that for the last several years he, more often than not, would prod his Uncle for more details and question him unmercifully on every aspect he could imagine, to a degree that his Uncle would tire more quickly and shorten his tales, providing less and less details. This left their exchanges unfulfilling and very frustrating to Jalaby.
“I sense a restlessness in you Jalaby, yes quite a restlessness,” the Uncle stated quietly, as he sat back in his high-back rocker with royal blue embroidered cushions that now were dulled with age and use. His Uncle, once tall, lean, and fit, now bent when he walked and even slightly as he sat, as if always bending toward you to better hear. A long black pipe barely smoldered and dangled just outside his mouth, clutched by a wrinkled hand.
Jalaby didn't respond and sat silently, he knew what Uncle Lindsay meant. In his short life he had grown strong and fit, both physically and mentally, and now he was restless, but restless for what? Perhaps for something, anything besides what he had been doing for the last five years, working on the farm and taking lessons from the Wise Elders.
Suddenly Jalaby was aware of his Uncle's stare and the intent nature of his countenance, which had visibly seemed to wash away the years. There was a spark in those eyes he had never seen. The earnestness he now saw made Jalaby believe that perhaps he had been overly rude to the point of making his Uncle angry, which he had never seen, and was set to offer apologies when his Uncle spoke.
“It is time Jalaby, time to learn something of the past and of your Father and Mother.”
This was different. In all the times of tales and stories Uncle Lindsay rarely mentioned his Father and Mother, who he knew had been lost in the Great War. Jalaby was excitedly eager but held an exterior of seriousness and calm, quietly waiting for his Uncle's words.
“At the time of the Great War, I was a General in the Onan Army and...”
“A General! I never...” Jalaby went silent. His Uncle's eyes bore into him, smothering the words of his outburst.
“As I said, I was a General, your Father and Mother were both well, spies of sorts, I guess you could call them, they worked behind the lines. You recall my telling you of the Fog Warriors, who usually fought at night, silently moving from village to village, leaving a wake of destruction, death and misery. No one ever saw their faces, unless they fell by sword or bow, because of the heavy blue cloaks that fit head to toe with stripes on a red headband to denote rank. Aye, you recall I said they seemed to float not walk. When we did manage to kill them and right before they vaporized...”
Jalaby quickly raised his head, but his Uncle held up a hand and continued. “That's right, they vaporize. Gone, nothing left, but before that, the face could finally be seen. There was nothing there, no features, just skin, a pale white it was.” Unc
le Lindsay closed his eyes and put his head back as if to reminisce, then realizing he had drifted, bent forward again.
“Well the Warriors of the Fog would generally not forage for themselves and relied on the enslaved people of Onan to provide them food. The Warrior's numbers seem to grow as they took more and more Onan land and Onan resources. Your Father and Mother purposely put themselves in the path of these animals, along with a dozen others, to set up a chain of information gatherers, while working as slaves to feed the Warriors. They were the ones who found the one weakness needed to destroy these invaders and close the entrance to Crieton's Land forever.”
“The weakness, what was it?” Jalaby asked earnestly.
“It had to do with the consumption of liquid, any liquid. The Fog Warriors had an extreme need for anything liquid. I supposed ultimately and simply, it was found that their bodies needed great amounts of water. Water once was the most unimportant thing in the Onan world, as I have told you.” Uncle Lindsay paused and with a deep breath continued.
“The cure, that is to say, ridding ourselves of the Fog Warriors, was very devastating to Onan. Most all the water sources accessible to the Warriors were poisoned and even today, ten years later, the water at some sites is not fit to drink. It will take a long time to recover for those sites. The cure worked, but the cost was dear, your parents and many others were found out and executed,” Uncle Lindsay hesitated, looked thoughtful, and continued as Jalaby, with eyes fixed, sat attentively, holding his many questions for the proper time.
“Now comes a part that you may or may not choose to believe, but I am an old man and this must be done,” the Uncle stated, as if arguing with himself. “You are not the son of those known to you as your Father and Mother, Narish and Julie Stebon!”
“What!” Jalaby could not contain his response and spoke with a rush. “What are you talking about, it has always been known that I, that my...”
“Wait, Wait Jalaby, let me finish, let me give you the complete story, so that all may be revealed to you and you can choose to believe or not to believe it, I can do nothing more,” as he finished, Jalaby once again sat back to hear his Uncle. “I have a package that was given to me by Narish and Julie. I do not know what it contains but it may do much to explain what I cannot. I know this though; you were meant to travel to the edge of Onan and perhaps pass into Crieton's Land itself, for a purpose. I do not know the purpose of this journey, only that they thought there might be a possibility that it may be needed. I have deduced this from discussions with your Father and Mother, for I will always think of them as that, for they have cared for you much more than some parents I know. They were concerned about a journey that even ten years ago they knew you would make. It didn't make a lot of sense to me then, or now, but there it is,” Uncle Lindsay rose unsteadily to his feet. “Wait here Jalaby and I will bring the package.”
Jalaby sat and pondered these revelations. His strong determined face held only puzzlement as he wondered what it all meant. His strongest link to family all a lie? His Uncle not his Uncle? Except he didn't feel that way. He thought to himself, “I'm to go to the edge of Onan and perhaps into the Fog itself. That would mean crossing Crieton's Bridge that is on the edge of my own town of Bridgetown. Crossing the bridge is strictly forbidden by Onan law and punishable by death.” Jalaby's head spun with visions, questions, and thoughts of how a simple story session had changed his life so dramatically. He had no idea what to do about all this. Jalaby's Uncle had returned with “the package” as his Uncle had described it, but it looked like a hand satchel that had been bound with wrapping paper so that the handle was not available to use. That much Jalaby could see from the rips in the yellowing paper. His Uncle laid the bundle in front of Jalaby on the low table that sat between their chairs. It was also covered with their books and two empty cups that were once filled with tea.
“I will leave you now, for I was not told if I should know the contents.”
“No Uncle wait, I want you to stay. I feel I will need your help in determining what this all means and what to do,” Jalaby said with almost a plea.
“As you wish,” the Uncle nodded and lowered himself stiffly into his chair.
Jalaby hesitated slightly and then as if a race starter had given the command, commenced to rapidly unwrap the case. To Jalaby's surprise, the case was typical, just a worn leather hand case. There was no lock and Jalaby quickly unfastened the catches. The satchel held several items but what caught Jalaby's eye first, was a medium sized box bound in brown leather. Attached to the box with a clip was an envelope. Jalaby placed the box on his lap and looked at the envelope. Hand written on the front of the envelope were the words, “To our son.” Jalaby felt a sudden pang of sorrow mixed with the excitement he had felt upon opening the satchel. He opened the envelope and found a several page letter, which read as follows:
“Dear Son, if you are reading this letter then we did not make it through the war. It was our desire to be with you again, but it was not to be. We hope your journey through life so far has been happy and peaceful and that you are strong enough to understand and act on what we are about to impart to you.”
“Jalaby, you are not our natural son, although we have always felt as if you were. Your name is Jalaby Langmaster, of the House of Langton. For you to know what that means, I must go into a little history of Onan and of Crieton's Fog.”
“The area known as Crieton's Fog, which surrounds all the lands, such as Onan, which make up Aeternie, has not always been as we see it today, on the contrary, there was no Crieton's Fog. All the lands were open and all the people were as pleasant and friendly as you could find anywhere. The largest of the known lands at that time was Langton and often those who ruled Langton spoke as if they were the sole rulers of all the known worlds. This sometimes did not sit too well with the other smaller lands, but in general everything was quite peaceful. Something then occurred to change all that and as best anyone can tell, it started with Crieton Langmaster, your real father, who was the ruler of Langton during the Great War. As you are aware, Crieton is now blamed for all that Onan and the other lands have suffered. Based on what has occurred, I think you can see why it is imperative that you not let anyone know of your true identity. All the known lands contain many who will seek revenge and are just waiting for the chance to strike back at Crieton. Please don't take this information too much to heart, because although all the lands have named your Father as the principle in all that has occurred, no one truly knows this to be the case. When we were investigating this, all we found out was that the Fog Warriors did originate from the land of Langton. This vast land has been ruled for thousands of years by your relatives. That does not conclude that your family is a willing partner.”
“Now, how did you come to be where you are? I am sure you are wondering about that. Before the Great War had begun, many of the young girls and boys from Langton were sent to live in the other lands, such as Onan. The intent, as expressed by Langton, was that the youth of Langton's administrators needed to become familiar with the people in the lands outside Langton, so that as one of the ruling class, they could better serve all the lands. Those outside Langton had other ideas on the subject and considered them as nothing but spies and potential enslavers. On the whole most didn't see any harm and welcomed these bright young ones into their communities. You were one of these young ones and were only four years of age when you arrived. You were to stay with us on our farm for a one year period before moving to the next land. We had quite a time those first eight months and we very much enjoyed that time in our lives with you, it was perhaps the happiest we have ever been. Then the Great War came, with the endless attacks and our futile attempts to create an army to oppose the Fog Warriors. We tried desperately during this period to return you to Langton, but nothing was going between Onan and Langton, not even communications. It was like Langton never existed. We ran and fought with you by our sides for many years before having the sense to give you to your Uncle for safekeep
ing. So here we are, as slaves, but not slaves. We continue the fight by furnishing information to the Onan army in hopes that one day things will change. We don't know what the world will be like when you read this letter son, but if the world is torn apart and in fear of the Fog, then you as Jalaby Langmaster must journey through Langton to Castle Langmaster and do what you can to bring Onan and Langton back together as one.”
“Your mother wants me to mention that it is foretold that one of those who travels with you will be unique, will be of great help on your journey and will be different from the rest, so keep that in mind. Son, there is only one solid thing we can offer for your Journey. There is an old creature that may be around if you decide to make the journey to Langton. After you cross Crieton's Bridge, travel upstream to an old mill, some two days journey. There you should find a creature that no matter how long we tried, would never give us his name. Just tell him that Narish says, may the truth be known, and he will give you a map. The map will lead you to Stoneburst Settlement, where we believe you will find some answers to why Crieton's Fog came about. I only hope the years have not been too long and that he is around.” Jalaby noticed the word creature, not man, not woman, but creature. That in itself was unusual, since there were no thinking creatures other than men and women in the land of Onan.
“One last thing that may help. In the satchel there is a box containing a small white stone called the “Stone of Crieton” mounted with leather straps so you can carry it around your neck. We are not sure if it works or how it works but supposedly it will vibrate and change colors when sensing danger to the bearer of the stone. It cost many lives to secure this stone from Langton during the Great War but it proved not to be the salvation we dreamed of since it will only work if the bearer is a Langmaster descendant and not for the Onan army as a whole, but it may prove useful to you.”
“We miss that sweet innocent face and wish only the best for you in the future. We love you son and believe in our hearts that we truly are your parents. We have always lived with the motto 'Truth be Known' and wherever you journey, let that be your guide. In the end, the truth is all we have. Farewell for now and may we meet in the great beyond.” It was signed by both.
