by Chris Ward
He stumbled over a bundle which lay on the floor by the front entrance.
How strange he thought, I am sure that was not there before.
A huge explosion from outside distracted him and for a moment the earth and house trembled. Rema thought the end had come but it did not and once more he turned to the bundle. It was tightly bound and in a moment he knew he could not waste time opening it up, but there was an old and faded note fastened to it which read quite simply,
Rema when the end seems upon you take this for you will have need of it. R.B.
He felt the hair on his neck stand on end as he recognised the initials. He shook his head. This is magic he thought and yet this seems to be the time of the end.
Rema had no further chance to think upon this strange intervention for a desperate call came clearly to him.
‘Rema, help me now!’
‘Andes,’ he replied recognising the voice immediately. ‘Andes, I am here, I am coming.’
He raced out into a world falling apart and saw Andes struggling up the steep path with his kindpa limp upon his shoulders. In a moment he was there at Andes’ side and helping the last few steps. They stumbled into the house and placed the unconscious figure on the floor. Andes slumped in a giant heap weeping, and so powerful was his emotion that he could not speak for some time so Rema turned his attention to the poor man, but knew immediately that he was beyond help. He looked at Andes and knew too that his dear friend understood; it was too late.
‘I could not leave him,’ Andes sobbed, ‘my kindma fell, the gases were too much and she is too tall and I could not carry them both. My kindpa, my dear Wulf, he just stopped breathing and I carried him, but I know he is gone. I just could not leave them both.’ The giant man put his hands to his head and cried. Rema wept at the sight and felt the loss keenly for he had grown up in their home; Wulf and Vilma Blomberg were like his family. The tall and graciously powerful Vilma through whose line the Edenwhood blood has passed to Andes, and the gentle Wulf whose music and poetry had filled the lives of so many. Both gone.
‘I am sorry Andes it is beyond understanding. Beyond belief that this has come to pass.’
‘The world is ending Rema,’ said Andes through sobs of deep pain, ‘what do we do now?’
‘We must leave, and we must do it now Andes, at the very least your Fryn waits, and she must not lose you.’
These words had the desired effect for at the mention of Fryn’s name Andes managed to get some hold on what was happening although his words did not reflect this.
‘I must bury them Rema, I’ll not leave them lying here like this. I must bring my kindma here and we must bury them...’
Rema sprang to his poor friend and knelt before him. He grasped the giant’s arms, shaking them as powerfully as he could.
‘Andes if we do that we all die, and Fryn will never see you again. We cannot stay another moment; this whole place might disappear in a moment.’ Andes looked blankly trying to follow Rema’s reasoning. He went to protest but Rema would not allow it. ‘Your parents want to you to live; now get up and follow me. Now!’ And then the giant man understood and obeyed, pausing only to lay the gentlest of kisses upon his kindpa’s brow.
Both men stood on the path in front of the old house, awestruck as they looked down on the scene below. The great lake was as before, a churning mess of mud and debris which burnt and disappeared, and then flung high, caught alight and flamed some more. Great explosions of mud continued and the orange-yellow glow of molten rock lay heavy on the far shore. Every now and then a glowing rock was flung high into the sky where it slowly fell to ground within the crater, upon a house or field where it lay in its own evil light and added to the doom.
‘Look,’ said Rema pointing, ‘there are a few escaping up the path to the rim.’ They watched and soon realised that these few were doomed, for this path, the main road into the town climbed only to the lowest point on the rim and the crater was filling with deadly gases which must surely spill over at that point. Sure enough the air below seemed to shimmer as the sulphurous air became thicker and climbed to reach those few. Within a moment they were overtaken, falling to the ground in an agony of violent paroxysms.
‘How can we escape their fate?’ whispered Andes fearfully.
‘If we stay high we will be safe for a time,’ replied Rema, ‘for the gases will spill over at the lowest point and down into the valleys beyond. But we must now flee for the mountain might yet explode and that will be our end.’
Even as he spoke the lake of fiery mud and molten rock began to rise. They watched in thrall as it slowly rose from the lake to consume all that had once stood near the shore, and still it came, filling the crater and moving relentlessly upward. A great wave of heat suddenly hit them like a horse-kick to the head.
‘It is coming Andes, run with me now!’ cried Rema.
And so they did, with death on their heels they raced toward the tunnel higher up in the rim, and pausing only briefly to glimpse the boiling mass spill over the lower rim into the valley below, they embraced the cooler air outside the crater, before rushing on to finally come to rest by the great cairn of rocks which marked the grave of a mighty man.
At that moment Rema realised he was carrying not just his few possessions, but the bundle which had so recently and mysteriously appeared before him.
As he gratefully sucked in the clean air he whispered into the night.
‘I don’t understand all this Rema Bowman, you who lie here on this trembling mountain, but I feel that you will have some great influence in my life hereafter.’
Andes cast him a strange look but then they were off once more, keeping high and circling the rim until they found the place where a rocky ridge joined the old volcano to the even mightier slopes of the Algehorn, and so they passed on to safety. They did not stop to rest until from high above they could see down to The Safeness, which had disappeared forever into a mighty glowing lake of molten rock and mud, which by now had filled the crater spilling out and down the far slopes and into the forest beyond where fierce fires were burning out of control. A huge column of billowing smoke rose above it all to the heavens, where high up a wind suddenly whipped it northwards far out over the frozen forests and empty lands where strange beasts and magic still ruled. There was lightning in the column and every now and then it lit up like a beacon, marking the destruction of all that lay beneath.
For a long time the two friends sat staring in dumb grief and disbelief. In the end it was Rema who spoke, as the awesome display finally begun to fade a little in the approaching dawn.
‘It is not the end of the world,’ whispered Rema, ‘just our world.’
‘But an end all the same,’ replied Andes quietly. ‘An end all the same.’ And the great giant wept unashamedly.
They continued to sit then, staring down at the remains of their world, and remembered; so many memoires that they became all jumbled and prevented any speech. It was a long time before Rema Bowman spoke once more, and when he did he was a different man.
‘We did not die Andes,’ he spoke gently but with such deep conviction that Andes was greatly moved. ‘We should have died, but we did not, and now we must honour those who did. Now we must truly live.’
As the sun lit the top of the Algehorn, Rema and Andes walked away, keeping high on the slopes until they found a well worn hunting path travelling south and a little east which skirted the most difficult terrain, all the time bringing them closer to the main road which ran between The Safeness and Highton. They walked in silence mostly, wondering many things. Andes felt a cold hard hand upon his heart for he could not reconcile the leaving of his home whilst the bodies of his beloved parents lay unburied. Once he would have been exhilarated to have walked such a path, today he felt it a cold and foreign place and all he wanted was to hold his Fryn and weep.
Rema knew he was different but could not understand how it had come about. In such a short space he had lost so much and yet there was now a f
eeling that a door had been flung open before him. He had always wanted to see more of Revelyn and visit distant places, and now so many questions began to eat at his mind.
Why had this all this come about? Why had this safe place been destroyed? Why was he still alive when so many others, good people all, had died? How could they who had been so lost in the depths of the boiling lake be now walking free? What is happening to the land?
There must answers to all this, he thought.
Rema looked down upon the strange bundle which he carried and wondered, and the more he looked the more he wondered and vowed that before he was done he would have answers to these questions even if he spent his life in the search.
Rema and Andes encountered the road to Highton just before the noon and stumbled upon a sad scene. Small groups of people who had escaped during the night by scrambling over the rim in different places were now walking together in shock. Many were burnt and most were cut and bruised or had been affected by the gases. Everyone had lost someone and a deep grief which dulled their senses united them all. Rema and Andes gave help where they were able, but it was a sad and desperate throng which stumbled into Highton two days later having lost several to their injuries along the way.
It was a hard time for everyone. Rema embraced his parents and told them of the loss but felt unable to describe the measure of it. Andes just sat upon the ground and allowed the beautiful Fryn to hold him while he wept. It was the same for the others whilst the kindly townsfolk took care of several orphans and sought to aid the wounded. Rema and Andes did not speak of their miraculous escape fearing that some might resent their strange luck when so many had perished. A few of those who had walked the road spoke of being saved by hearing the Danger Bell but Rema did not volunteer his role in this and Andes also did not speak of it. Strangely a rumour soon circulated that the bell had rung all by itself as though the town facing a most desperate situation had tried to save its own.
Rema found shelter with a friend of his kindpa, a large quiet man by the name of Josia Beringa and his portly wife Bess. They had lost a son some years before and they gladly offered his room. It was warm and comfortable, and they did not press him about the disaster for which Rema was grateful as he did not wish to speak on it. But his mind was ever active and for three days he did not sleep until the generous and motherly Bess made him a strange drink which took away an anxiety he did not know he had, and then he managed to find some peace in sleep although his dreams were full of things which upon waking he could not remember, and in truth was glad he could not.
A week after the disaster they received the news that all within the crater was lost. Nothing remained. Fires had raged right to the very highest part of the rim and great tremors had rent the earth so that no building was left standing. A survivor, aptly named Johnny Quickfoot the son of the baker, had returned against all advice and reported on the scene. Several times he had almost been overcome by gases and he told of the huge smoke column still reaching to the sky above the molten lake. His kindma, a wordsmith of extraordinary skill flayed him for his foolishness for he had gone off without a word and she had suffered much in his absence, having lost her husband to the disaster; but he was young and impulsive, and in the end they were all grateful for his words.
And so Rema knew that was all gone, whilst within his heart the burning question why, remained to drive him on.
Chapter 3
‘You are a good son,’ said Refr to Rema when it was revealed that he had brought the large bag of gold which was all the savings the family had.
‘It was heavy enough but small to carry,’ replied Rema, ‘At least we can pay our way...’
‘More than that,’ his kindpa interrupted, ‘there is enough here to start again. We can build bows here in Highton, and we are closer to those who want them. The Safeness was unsurpassable in beauty but it was remote, we will do well here.’ He paused. ‘You didn’t by any chance...’ Rema smiled, for he had anticipated the next question. He reached into his bag and placed a small book upon the table which stood between them. Refr immediately snatched it up and held it to his heart.
‘Well done Rema, my book! It has all the calculations I need, for glues and oil and plans for bows and how to work the strings. I cannot remember them all. This is worth more than the gold. Well done son.’ He reached over and grasped Rema’s hands with tears in his eyes. ‘We will do well together you and me, here in Highton.’
Rema felt his spirits lift a little then but he mourned for the mountains and knew it would not be the same, and he knew his gentle kindma, Salli would not do well. His kindpa was a businessman and an optimist. If he could build bows it would not matter where, but his Kindma was more joined to the land, to the place of her birth and life. Rema had watched her, and he saw her quiet anguish, as though her heart was cut out, and thrown away forthe eagles to feast upon. He had tried to comfort her but his words had fallen to the ground unheard.
‘Refr,’ he whispered to his Kindpa whilst their hands still made a bond. ‘Salli needs you now, more than all the bows in Revelyn. She has lost more than either of us. She had more friends than you, she was more connected to others, and she has lost them all. Think on this Kindpa.’ He was surprised to hear his own words on this, and Refr too was suddenly struck by the wisdom of his son.
‘You are right of course my boy,’ he replied, but Rema saw in his eyes only plans for his beloved bows.
Despite the underlying grief, life went on. Within two full moons Refr and Rema had rented a small cottage and secured suitable premises in which to build their bows. There were ample supplies of the right timbers close by in the forest and soon Rema fell into the simple familiar rhythms to which he was accustomed. Andes found work in the town’s small forge, for his great strength and skill with iron brought in more business than had ever before crossed the threshold of old Smyg Simthson’s doorway. The blacksmith was a cunning man and knew he was going to do well from this new association, and besides, as he repeatedly told all who would listen, and many others who would not, in the drinking house...
‘Young Fryn is my niece so I can keep an eye on things if you know what I mean,’ and he would tap his nose and wink a bleary eye and chuckle into his ale; and oft’ times he did this quite happily even when he was quite alone.
But Rema was restless, and at night he would lie and think about all the questions which filled his head and for which he had no answers.
And then came more news.
A lone rider appeared one day and spoke with the town elder who called a meeting, by the ringing of the Danger Bell. Three rings was the sign for such a meeting and all must attend. It was the way in the Highland towns, although Highton had not had such a meeting for a very long time.
He is a sad figure thought Rema as he sat with the others in the restless crowd looking upon the rider, for he brings sad news.
When the elder stood to speak it was apparent that he too was struck by the solemnity of the situation. He was a man of many words and could hold a crowd well entertained with wisdom and humour but on this occasion he said little.
‘My friends,’ said the elder, ‘this day we have received more bad news.’ And that was all. The elder sat quickly and looked at floor. A murmur rippled through the crowd, and all eyes were upon the sad rider as he had quickly become known.
He was not a tall man, but his thin and wiry build meant he was of a stature ideally suited to spending long hours in the saddle. His eyes were of the deepest blue and he stood before them all in silence and gazed about, some thought to choose his words, others that he was a great showman and knew how to play a crowd.
‘Greetings citizens of Highton...’ he said after a suitable time, in a strong and compelling voice. Rema immediately thought he is well chosen to speak to others; any would want to hear what he has to say.
‘...my name is Simon. I am from the east. I have been sent by the great Council of the Highlands. I am a rider.’
He paused then to al
low the seriousness of this announcement to sink in and Rema felt a murmur run through the crowd. They had all heard of such men, riders who were sent out by the Great Council to the far flung towns; but only when the most serious news needed to be carried; like war or calamity. Rema wondered then which of these it would be.
‘I come bearing news of Farview.’ The rider let the words hang in the air. All knew of Farview, their great town, indeed a city almost, where the Great Council sat and most of the population of the Highlands lived. Many in Highton had travelled there and knew it well or had relatives there; sons and daughters...
‘My news of Farview is of great calamity.’ The crowd became instantly attentive.
‘It my duty to inform you on authority of the Great Council...’here the sad rider paused and added in his own commentary, ‘or what is left of the great Council... that on the last full moon a mighty earthquake shook the land of the eastern highlands...’ a gasp from some in the crowd... ‘And a great portion of the eastern escarpment on which the town was built fell away.’ He paused and let the crowd deal with that much and prepare for what many knew must come. After a moment he continued.
‘Almost all of Farview fell with it. The town is lost.’
For a moment there was a stunned silence, then a great cry went up from several in the crowd and others stood and demanded answers to questions, none of which could be heard above the noise. It fell to the town elder to bring order once more and then the rider continued, having stood sadly and patiently all the while.
‘I have given your town elder a list of those who survived. It is not a long list and I am afraid that if someone is not on this list then they are dead.’ The sad rider shook his head, and for the first time seemed deeply moved by his own words, and Rema, sitting close by the front of the crowd heard him add in whisper... ‘As are all my family.’
