Plain of the Fourteen Pillars - Book 1

by T K Foster

Silence.

  Around this silence a light breeze blew quietly, it rustled the bushes that obscured what appeared to be the only opening through the rocks which created an enclosure atop the cliff face. It was a wide space, scattered with many boulders and shrubs, but it was one particular shrub that had caught their full attention.

  The plant which grew before them between two rocks was indeed a sage, with its square, woody stems opening out to a mass of velvety grey-green leaves and a mixture of pink and white flowers sprouting above the lot. It was apparently more than 18250 days old, or so Briar reckoned, which in comparison to other shrubs of its type did indeed make it seem quite old.

  “You better be joking,” Barret said angrily and smacked Briar across the head with his forehand.

  Briar lurched forward on his feet, then turned awkwardly and launched himself at Barret who easily caught him by the shoulders and forced him backwards again.

  “You rotten little snake,” Barret yelled, “What’d you expect we’d think, the bush would burst into flames and start talking to us?”

  “No. It was just a joke.”

  “Stupid joke. Long way to come for just a stupid joke.”

  “But I thought it would be funny.”

  “Up yours pig boy, joke’s on you now. Roll your sleeves up.”

  Barret rolled his sleeves up like the Irish lout wannabe he wanted to be and made a dash for Briar who had, in hindsight, already started to run away.

  In the background Billy stood quietly staring at the sage bush. He felt robbed, and so was torn between the ideas of watching Barret tear Briar apart, or stopping Barret from tearing Briar apart. In the end it was the latter that won the day.

  “Would you two just give it a rest,” he said loudly but without emotion. “Who’s really losing out here, huh? Me. That’s right. So stop your slapping and get over yourselves.”

  “Yay Billy, you tell them,” Cetra cheered in support.

  Barret and Briar stopped in their tracks and sluggishly rejoined the group, their heads held low so as to avoid looking at each other.

  “Where do we go from here?” Billy now asked expectantly.

  “Yeah, pig-face, what were your plans after this?”

  Briar shrugged.

  “You idiot,” Barret chided.

  “Why do we not just go to the next town?” Cetra suggested.

  “Good idea,” Billy agreed.

  “What about you Cetra, can you feel the place?”

  “What place, Barret?”

  “The place with the pillars?”

  “No.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s the place he’s talking about?” Rod whispered into her ear.

  “A happy place. You would probably find a lot of cheese there.”

  Thus they were all in agreement; they would make their way to the next town and from there on, who knew?

  “We should rest first,” Briar suggested.

  “Lazy....”

  “Great idea,” Billy said, quickly intercepting Barret’s foul tongue. “I’m pretty worn out after that climb.”

  Cetra moved a bit closer to the edge of the cliff and sat on a rock facing out; she and Rod could be heard chatting softly in the background. The three boys verily dropped where they stood, Billy and Briar leant against a rock each while Barret laid flat on his back with his hands tucked behind his head.

  “I think I’m a bit hungry,” Barret mumbled, wincing at the brightness of the sun.

  “Should’ve cut the ears off the burros before they left,” Briar said.

  “That’s gross.”

  “Have you ever had them?”

  “No, and I don’t intend on trying neither.”

  “They’re nice crisped over a fire.”

  Barret gagged, “You’re disgusting.”

  Billy sat back with his eyes closed and listened without interest. He was tired and fed up and simply wanted to go home, but he was now even one step quite further away from that very idea. When he opened his eyes again his two companions were quiet; Barret appeared to have fallen asleep and Briar was staring in the direction of the opening near the bushes.

  To Billy’s left was the old sage bush, still moving slightly with the breeze.

  In a bid to get Briar’s attention, Billy waved a hand at the sage and posed the question, “So what’s it do?”

  Briar turned quickly and with a dribble of saliva in the corner of his mouth said, “It makes a mean Burtle Stew.”

  “Oh, do I really want to know?”

  “Fermented beetroot and turtle,” Briar continued excitedly and licked his lips, “Yum.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN