© Copyright 2018 by Nicholas James Bridgewater
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Introduction (to the Kindle edition)
Congratulations for downloading Green Monk of Tremn, Book 2:
The Rise of Plant Man, Lord of War, Conquest and Revenge!
The story continues…
Ifunka and Shem are deep within the depths of Ffushkar—a vast forest spanning the western provinces of the Old Central Kingdom of Tremn. Surrounded by enemies, chased and pursued by the savage ‘clay men’ who live beneath the ground, followed by the terrible, ghost-like shan, and attacked by worm-like monsters which burst from the soil and devour their prey, Ifunka and his companion must continue their long and perilous journey to save their friend from his impending doom.
This is a story of hidden kingdoms, terrible rituals, deception and intrigue, and the rise of a new, powerful and vicious conqueror, known simply as ‘Plant Man’. Who is this new warrior-king, and what does he seek? Where is Ifunka and Shem’s friend located, and will they find him before he meets his doom? All of these questions and much more are answered in this latest volume of the ‘Green Monk of Tremn Trilogy’.
Green Monk of Tremn is a three-part adventure which forms the first volume of the Coins of Amon-Ra series. This is Part II of that adventure.
As a special thank you for downloading this book, we would like to give you a FREE GIFT (in PDF format) with several great extras, including a table showing the Tremni & Vocatae runic script, a map of Tremnad, Tremni numbers, some Tremni phrases, and the transcript to NJ Bridgewater’s video in Tremni (Speaking an Alien Language!!!). We hope you enjoy it!
CLICK HERE FOR YOUR FREE GIFT!
Dedication & Acknowledgments
To my wife, Grace, without whose support this book could not have been written.
In addition, I would like to thank my mother, Carolyn, who helped to edit this book, and to my son, Jalál, whose constant love inspires me.
I would also like to thank my father, Leslie, for inspiring me to think for myself and express my thoughts and ideas through art and writing.
Map of the Continent of Tremnad
on the Planet Tremn
Table of Contents
Introduction (to the Kindle edition)
Dedication & Acknowledgments
Map of the Continent of Tremnad on the Planet Tremn
Chapter XIII. The Shan
Chapter XIV. Worm Grove
Chapter XV. rva
Chapter XVI. House of Slaughter
Chapter XVII. Khanshaff
Chapter XVIII. The Sage
Chapter XIX. Plant Man
Chapter XX. The Purge
Chapter XXI. Banners Raised!
Chapter XXII. The Forest March
Chapter XXIII. The Siege of Ffantplain
Chapter XXIV. The Hidden Heir
Thanks!
Preview Of ‘Green Monk of Tremn, Book III: Kings, Queens and Thrones’
Other Books by the Author
About the Author
Chapter XIII.
The Shan
A vast field, a never-ending plain stretched out in all directions, eternally, from endless horizon to endless horizon, rich with a verdant luxuriance the like of which no man had ever seen, radiant and effulgent with an otherworldly light which shone from an unseen source, illuminating with its splendour all created things equally, as if everything reflected that same light with perfect and complete refulgence. As he looked at his hands and his body, he found them to be as luminous as everything else.
“Where am I?” he asked aloud, but his lips did not move.
The words simply entered the air, if it could be called air, and echoed in the immensity of space. Time seemed to be still—unmoving—as the flow of time itself pertains to the physical world and Ifunka was somewhere else entirely. No time, then, could have passed between the question and answer, or perhaps it was an eternity, as stillness and motion, the immediate and the eternal, were one and the same in this place without place.
“Tae vam (thou knowest),” came the reply, which seemed to be in Vocatae, but whether it were utterance or thought, Ifunka could not surmise.
“Vanitom vamso (how do I know)?”
“Taesiv vamediph oucau zepaic le, oucau zepai taesiv le cub (within thee is the knowledge of all things and all things are within thee).”
“Celphic mimra le, saup, pheum cub sipha hrhidva cel oucau siphic ademia (this is the mimra, then—the universal field which embraces all of the physical universe).”
“Hrheu cub naves (yea and nay).”
“Naves (nay)?”
“Celphic vaniut le celtemtae ucre hreudia ahrhaphelast, amenaxast—anauxogast (this is a way thou canst perceive it with the senses, a symbol—a metaphor).”
“Phel taeleso (who art thou)?”
“Enra levon cel enin cub eninva, tae anaux, avium methuratiph, pheum cub gehrhatiph, caquolatap, iaphasgesiamvon (I am a being who watches, who sees, like thee created, yet wiser, stronger, dispassionate, far-reaching).”
“Aman, saup (a god, then)?”
“Naves, avium sapie denor aphseiae (nay, but a man of another kind).”
“Vatom itiph leso (why am I here)?”
“Enra initov phesphatom tae naph. Caemye raquost; saquetemtae sup, temtae lisiocra—saquetemtae quost, taihrhon oninva denparum. Cacansa Vabacim ralisarum, ca taicim. Oninvathie canonarum tae Tuint exodcon arn (I come only to warn thee. There is a treasure; if thou find it, give it away—if thou keep it, lose thy way. Trust in the Great Spirit, not in thyself. Keep to the Path or the Cursed One shall lead thee)!”
“Ifunka!” a voice seemed to intrude on this peaceful realm. It was Shem; he awoke. Morning. Shem leaned over him. The sun shone over the treetops, birds chirped, the air was crisp yet steadily warming. The smell of roast wiro enticed his nostrils.
“Breakfast is ready,” said Shem.
“I’ve missed kashroim!”
“I couldn’t wake you; anyway, in illness or situations of urgent need, we’re exempt from the obligatory prayers.”
As he sat up to enjoy a wonderful, hot, steaming breakfast, Ifunka’s mind overflowed with images of his night-vision. Who was the speaker, that being which claimed to be a man—albeit a powerful man? He wanted to disclose every detail to Shem yet, however vivid it appeared in his mind, he could not transfer that vision into the medium of syllables and sounds. However much he tried, the words evaded him, until he felt entirely defeated and dejected. What was this impenetrable wall which stopped his tongue? He kept silent and ate with great concentration. Shem, the usually introverted one, noticed his unusual behaviour and queried him.
“What’s wrong, brother?”
“What’s wrong? Everything’s wrong,” he replied, breaking his silence. “I don’t know what to say. I’m troubled. I think there’s a greater purpose to what we’re doing but the path is fraught with danger.”
“We have faced many perils already.”
“Not of that nature—I mean perils of choice—snares of the mind, moral rectitude. Shal
l we keep to the Path which our Lord has laid out for us, or shall we fall into the trap of Afflish, the Accursed One?”
“Do not fear, brother,” Shem reassured him, placing his hand on Ifunka’s shoulder. “We’re in this together. We’ll keep each other on the path.”
“I hope so” said Ifunka, but his words were not filled with confidence.
“Ifunka... keep strong. Tvem was right. The mimra surrounds us, embraces us. Its energies flow through us. Indeed, we have been led along this path.”
Ifunka did not respond. He lifted his gaze unto the lofty clouds above, glorious white and transcendent, which floated gently through the light-blue morning sky. His eyes looked up at a physical sky, yet his soul longed for another horizon, an unending horizon stretching on through boundless eternity. The light of the sun, ancient Vukt, brilliant and luminous as it was, paled like evanescent mist before the deathless glow which radiated from a matrix of reality that was radiant in and of its own essence. ‘Yet was this not a parable, a mere representation of something which is immaterial, indescribable and unfathomable?’ he wondered. But there was something even greater that this: Ganka, the realm of Paradise. So exalted must that place be, if the mimra be only a coil of reality binding this lesser kingdom in all its fastness! Shem observed him closely, seeming to discern an ethereal light on his cheeks and brow, as if he were, even now, reflecting light from a hidden source. He did not speak, however, and turned his attention to the more pressing matter of the ailing ffentbaff. As if divining his intention, Ifunka turned and asked:
“The ffentbaff—how is it?”
“Gadffash—he is well. The fire warmed him and he is lying by that grove of trees just there—” he pointed to a small circle of trees a few okshas away. There the gargantuan beast of burden sat in contentment, on all fours, with bulbous hairy belly brushing up against the surrounding tree trunks. It flicked its ears to repel some pesky ffug-flies which fed on its sweat and flecks of dead skin.
“Gadffash? You gave it a name?”
“Why not? We are to rely upon it for transportation and protection. I’d rather know who or what that is which we rely upon.”
“Gadffash it is then. A suitable name.”
They made ready, saddled the beast and mounted it.
“Which direction?” asked Shem.
“We continue southwest. A day or two, I think, and we’ll reach our goal. Then, do or die, we shall meet our fate.”
They spurred Gadffash on; he moved swiftly through the forest for three hours or more, until they stopped to rest in a small clearing circled by a ring of large stones, called keffe akffostavt (‘keeper-stones’), placed there by ancient peoples long before pen touched paper and history took its shape.
“We can wait here for a little while, but we shouldn’t tarry long,” said Ifunka.
“I’ve read about these places,” said Shem. “The stones form protective circles—at least in the superstitions of the ancients. There are forest sprites, evil beings which can shape-shift or vanish at will. They lead wayfarers astray and devour their spirits.”
“The shan? Yes, but they are mere myths and legends—figments of the imagination.”
“Perhaps they refer to the hitvah—the clay men.”
“No, those are a separate legend, and we’ve seen those with our very eyes. They are living men who have strayed from the path of righteousness and become like animals, shorn of reason or morality. I pity them—creatures of passion and violence that they are. The shan are another thing altogether, a superstition.”
“Let’s sit for a while.”
They both rested, leaning on the large yet perfectly smooth stones until they drifted off to sleep. The ffentbaff, who was tied to one of these, merely rested on all fours whilst flicking ffug-flies with its ears and tail, occasionally grunting and snorting as he listed.
As he slept, Ifunka seemed to enter the mimra once more. He was in the same plain and heard the same voice which had spoken to him before.
“Oninvathie canonarum (keep to the path),” it said.
“Phel tae leso (who art thou)?” asked Ifunka.
“Taetom isicmon (I have told thee),” it replied. “Enra enin cub idolad, quirb enratae naphvon cub. Enhrhon quiasra idolemcra (I watch and listen, and now I warn thee. Heed my counsel).”
“Ves taehrhon iedi leso (what is thy name)?”
“Arret banpeic cub weseictae rumiadvon, dohrhitae sueva quatoric lamavon, enu wese ca pheum cuctap aquan ca van cub (thou clingest to the world of syllables and sounds, even when thou art standing on the plain of eternity, where sound does not exist and time has no meaning).”
“Saup, enra liphcra dea (let me go then).”
“Enamcra! Cei wasiaint le (watch out! Ye are surrounded).”
When he awoke, it was already evening and the sun had begun to set. ‘How is that possible?’ he wondered. ‘Have we slept all day?’
“Shem!” he called.
Shem awoke with a start.
“It’s evening! How have we slept so long?”
“I don’t know. Even Gadffash is still sleeping.”
The ffentbaff was, it appeared, in a deep sleep, its eyes closed fast, its great chest heaving with every intake of breath and shrinking with every mighty exhalation.
“Perhaps it is the influence of the keffe akvostavt. We should make haste; we’ve lost a lot of time.”
As they got their supplies together, Shem froze. Ifunka looked at him in wonder. Shem was stiff as a stone, his eyes wide with fear. Turning, Ifunka espied the cause—a set of eyes, glowing white, stared at them through the darkness.
“What is that?”
“Don’t speak,” whispered Shem. “It’s one of them...”
“What shall we do?” asked Ifunka, his heart pounding fiercely. “We can’t surely stay here.”
“What choice do we have? This stone circle should protect us. If we leave it, those things shall surely get us. To be devoured by the shan is a fate worse than death.”
“So, what then? Wait here? No, we can’t.”
He took out his dagger and aimed it at the nefarious eyes. With one, well-aimed blow, he sent the dagger squarely at the creature’s temple. The dagger hummed through the night air as it spun—the eyes vanished and a thump could be discerned, as if something had fallen. Yet, what guarantee was there that this was not some trick pulled by the shan to appear as if it had been struck? They waited several minutes but the eyes did not rematerialize.
“What think you, Shem? Subterfuge?”
“We should stay—just to be safe.”
“We’re already days behind where we should be. Brother Ushwan is probably dead. But we must hope that he lives. We must go on—as fast as we can—these shan be damned!”
“The eyes are gone—perhaps you’re right.”
They poised themselves to flee.
“Now!” cried Ifunka and they sped off into the forest vastness.
They continued on for ages, bruising and cutting their hands and arms on the tree branches and twigs as they ran on, puffing and panting, thrusting their battered bodies through the pitch blackness of the night; yet there was no pursuit, at least none that either could discern, so Ifunka called for them to halt.
“Shem! Let’s rest.”
They fell on their knees, so exhausted were they. Their ffentbaff, Gadffash, whom they had forgotten, must have wandered away from the clearing by then. They had forgotten even to look for him, so terrified were they of the elusive white eyes. As they turned to look from whence they had come, two eyes became visible, bright but not radiant, as if possessed of some self-contained light, ethereal yet maleficent, fixed like jewels hanging on some ebony-black tapestry suspended by the dark forces of night and death. Ifunka and Shem froze, as if overcome by the inevitability of their own deaths—having been propelled by fate, or the Great S
pirit, to the final point of their journey. The lights remained stationary—fixed—and almost lifeless. His heartbeat boomed loudly in the silence of the night as Ifunka contemplated the death that might overcome him. Shem was transfixed, as if mesmerized by the eyes’ frightful duality. The standoff continued and waxed on, until Ifunka felt his nerve dissolving and hopelessness overwhelming him.
“If we turn,” he whispered. “It will catch us; if we run, it will catch us. What shall we do?”
“Trust in the Great Spirit,” Shem urged. “He has preserved us thus far. Why would he abandon us now?”
“Every beginning has an end—every journey has a termination. At any moment, the curtain may drop.”
“Fight or flight—there are only two options. We cannot fight this thing, so let’s run.”
“Agreed.”
They turned and ran again. This time, a palpable sense of dread surrounded them, as if all hope and light had been sucked out of them. Evil, in all its vacuous turbidity, its cold indifference, embraced them like clouds of blackest oil infusing briny depths. Like shoals of hapless fish, they drowned in its terrible progression. An ice-cold hand wrapped around the nape of Shem’s neck and he froze. Ifunka turned round only to find his friend enmeshed in a swarm of pure white figures, naked yet foul in their inhuman gauntness and elongated features. They wrapped their frigid arms and legs around him, as if to ravage their foe before imbibing his innermost essence. They were silent in their slow yet unnatural movements, their terrifying earnestness. Shem could neither scream nor flee, so firmly was he locked within their overpowering embrace.
“Shem!!!” Ifunka screamed, his voice carrying far and wide throughout the forest.
Yet the shan were unmoving, unconcerned, save in the completion of their current act of predation. Then, in a moment of clarity, as Ifunka remembered his monastic training, a verse from the Tamitvar came to his mind—a verse renowned for its beauty as much for its potency, Yonff Poltiffog (‘the Verse of Radiance’), which is half in Tremni and half in Vocatae:
The Rise of Plant Man, Lord of War, Conquest and Revenge: Green Monk of Tremn, Part II (Coins of Amon-Ra Book 2) Page 1
