by James Garvey
I was up to the challenge, feeling bold. I walked right up to one of the creatures. It squinted and retreated into the shade of a large cedar. Not to be deterred, I advanced further and the green waif floated away. The wind rustled the trees and the creature and its brethren were gone.
“Nice try, sweetheart. No luck either, huh? They like to play. They’re never far away. I catch them in the corner of my eye just about every day. And they always appear when you need them. Once, when the crops were failing, they showed me a special substance in the soil that stopped the blight. They make me look to be quite the genius.”
“How do you talk with them?” In all my years of seeing them and thinking they were my special secret, here my mother knew about them all the time and could communicate with them. I was annoyed and impressed.
“They whisper in my mind. I see images, shapes, and sometimes words. Once they learn to trust you, they will start talking with you as well. You’re ready. You also will find that you can hear my thoughts and occasionally those of other people. The keeper's gift seems to include mind reading.”
With that proclamation, things got weirder for me. The weirdness continues to this day. I admit that the little creatures are helpful and that I indeed learned how to talk with them in my mind. They show me how the plants think. I can feel the water rising underneath the bark of the trees, the tender grass dripping with dew, and the light touch of a honeybee’s tongue. Still, I can hardly call the green things in the forest my friends. Unlike my mother, my life doesn’t completely revolve around the garden. I have questions and thoughts that grasp beyond the gardens, the village, and even the ruins of the cities I've never seen. I doubt the creatures understand how tired I feel or how angry Wenn and my father make me sometimes. They disappear as soon as I begin to ask the questions that plague me such as: “Who are you?” As for the mind reading, I never quite understood what mom meant by that. I've never heard anything but the green ones and my own voice in my head.
Another day harvesting seeds and clearing brush is nearing its end and I'm weary to the marrow once again. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me but the prospect of cooking a meal for Wenn and father is not looking good. They'll have to fend for themselves on stale bread and cold stew. They can take advantage of the harvest. I have a basket of fresh vegetables for them to eat. The peas are particularly sweet. I begin lumbering down the dirt path toward home when I hear steps behind me. Fear's not a feeling I understand or condone. I stop and turn. Theo’s standing there in the fading light, his shoulders broad and straight.
I set down my basket and put my hands on my hips. “Theo. I’m getting a little worried about you. It isn’t like you to stalk me or anyone for that matter.”
Theo chortles, then his face falls. “Amy. Serious now. I got this feeling that things are changing. You know I like to kid and play, but something is up this coming winter. I can feel, taste, a wrongness in the wind. It may sound funny. But I think it has to do with you.”
“By gods of the forest Theo. It’s a little early to be dipping into the shine. Shouldn’t you be out snaring rabbits in the grassland?” I have to admit, he’s making me feel a bit nervous, the look on his face uncharacteristically grim.
“I’m sure it’s silliness. But you wouldn’t mind a little company on the way home? Besides, I’ve some news for Wenn. There be opportunities to the south that might be profitable for us.”
“Profit, hmm?” I'm thankful that we aren’t lingering on the topic of danger and winter. “Did your friend Bets find another jewelry shop in the rubble of the city?“
“Sprouter, you know better than that. We don’t make hazardous trips for something as silly as rare metals or rocks. The ruins provide raw material for all the tools we use. And you never seem to complain when we bring some paper and pencils back with us.”
“Theo, you’re a terrible liar. I know how much you can benefit by providing a bauble to a passing merchant. And the white rocks are not only pretty but great for cutting glass. It’s just that there is so much risk around those old structures. You know what happened to Robison and Franks. They were messing around in one of those glass boxes rather than gathering iron. And in a wink the rest of the crew was pulling what was left of them out of shards of glass and rock. There are still shreds of them in that heap. We all have to rely on each other. There’s no room for selfishness. And for you to drag Wenn into this-”
“Gods alive. You’re not my mother. Quit your nagging. Bets and I are capable of protecting ourselves.” Theo’s grinning like a weasel. “And I just want to borrow a horse from Wenn. You can keep caring for him while we’re away.”
“You are getting no horse from us.”
“We’ll see what Wenn has to say about that.”
"It is my house, not Wenn's. I will have the final say, Theo. Be careful or you won't be getting that barley you so love for making ale."
The remainder of the trek is spent in silence.
We arrive at my home, a modest wooden building with a few rooms and a moss covered roof. My treasured apple trees line the path to the front door. The house has been a part of my mother’s family for generations. Wenn moved in with father and me when we married. The windows are dark and no smoke billows from the chimney. Wenn and father are either still in the shop or have stopped at Wagnet’s, the town pub and informal gathering place, for mead and shine before heading home. Theo bows to me and leaps into the street, heading toward Wagnet’s. I think he knows something that I don’t.
I gather some wood and conjure a small fire. I pop open a flask and pour the contents into a pewter cup, which I warm over the flames. The fumes of the drink engulf me and the cords of muscle in my back relax. The men can starve for all I care.
CHAPTER 3 – THE GOD
I drift to that placid night when the god appeared to me and father. The god loomed over us, even in the distance. I remember hearing a raspy whir before I could discern his physical features. The creature was flanked by six of the little green people. Father shifted and stared, so I was sure that I wasn’t hallucinating. Strangely, neither of us seemed to feel fear, but rather a mixture of comfort and curiosity at the sight.
“Hello, I’m Fromer,” the creature spoke in our tongue. He was at least twice as tall as me with thick, glossy black skin. His eyes were faceted, like those of a dragonfly, although his face was clearly like ours. A light emerald glow emanated from his body - the cool flame of a firefly. We waited anxiously for his next words. Strangely, he asked for tea. Before I turned to the house to brew a pot, it was clear that father could only see the god and not his emerald companions. The green people were sitting on the bench I’d just left, gazing at father with their heads tilted. Perhaps they were as curious about our reaction as we were about being confronted by a god walking out of the woods on such an otherwise ordinary night.
I quickly got the water to boil and headed back out to see the strange meeting. The god Fromer was perched on a tree stump with his chin in his hands. Father was guffawing. I’d never heard him laugh like that.
“Amy, my girl, come bring us the tea. Fromer here’s telling me a story about your granddad and your great uncle Aine. Turns out that they tried to steal a mule from Gringsville. They ended up being caught and forced to stand in the town square covered with manure and hay as punishment. Can you imagine? Your tight-laced, pain in the arse grandfather doing something like that?” He shook his head.
The stranger wore a buggy sort of bemused gaze on his face. He saw me with the pot and clapped his large hands in approval.
I poured the tea and shooed the green ones away. “Mister Fromer. Who are you? Where do you come from?”
Father interrupted, betraying his caution about being visited by a god. “Amy, don’t be rude to our guest here. I’m sure Fromer will be happy to tell us who he is in time.”
Our guest took a sip and chortled, a low rumbling in his chest. “Amy. I’m so very glad we finally meet. You can drop the formalities. I just go by the
name Fromer if you don’t mind. It’s going to be a bit hard for me to explain who I am or what I’m doing here.” He paused and let the steam from the tea draw toward his chest. I wondered why it was going down there rather than into his nostrils. “I suppose I’m a traveler of sorts. I’ve had the opportunity to see things the way they really are and I’ve been lucky enough to be able to move through time like you move from your house to your beloved gardens.”
“You live forever,” I concluded aloud. That seemed logical for a god, I thought.
“No, Amy, not exactly. I’ll expire at some point. But I’ve had the chance to watch you, your distant ancestors, and even your grandchildren in this wonderful place.”
“That’s impossible.” I wasn't impressed with a mortal god, although I was curious about all this talk of time travel.
Fromer grinned. “As impossible as a pea growing from a shriveled seed? Or a large black creature emerging from the woods? Amy, you know better than most.” He glanced at the green creatures milling about the yard - beings that my father could not see but were all too apparent to me.
“He’s a god, Amy. He can do those sorts of things,” my father said earnestly. “You can’t question these things. It’s beyond our understanding.”
I rolled my eyes in frustration. With time and effort, anything could be understood.
Fromer continued. “Back to my explanation. I've had a short time to watch snapshots – pictures – of your times since the end of the reign of humanity on earth. A close friend told me that the secret lies in your timeline here in your little village. You’d be quite impressed with the adversity your ancestors faced, especially during the early days. After sifting through it all, all the strands led to here at this time. So, here I am. This tea is excellent by the way.”
“Strands of time? You gods speak in riddles. Why do you describe time as strings?”
“Amy, it may be hard to imagine. But time and all this…” he opened his arms an impossible width, “are the same thing. Once upon a very, very long time ago, all of the earth below you and the stars above were squeezed into an impossibly small ball. The mass exploded and everything remained linked, no matter how far apart any bit is. Time, space, they depend on each other. I – I slipped through the cracks and exist outside that ball. You just live inside of it."
I pondered this notion. Teacher and her kin spoke of this lore to us – knowledge left to us by the ancient ones before they angered the gods. Earth was a ball of water and dirt in an enormous void called space. The stars, moons, and sun were all hanging in that emptiness, wandering through the emptiness. Still, it was difficult for me to believe that all of it was scrunched into a little wad. “When did this ball blow up making everything?”
Fromer was obviously pleased that his lesson generated interest. “A long, long time ago, Amy. About 15 billion complete changes of the seasons…years as I still think you call them. The problem facing all of us is that it all is still stretching out and the strings are getting thinner. Space's so very lonely. But it is life, like on this earth and other earths that make those strings have meaning. It was hard for me to see that single indelible fact before I began travelling. But it’s so clear now.”
Father chimed in, the explorer within him aroused. “There are other earths? I don’t even know what's beyond the mountain range, the broken cities, or the ocean. And you be telling me that there are other earths to explore?”
“Yes. And I've a secret to tell you both. You and your bloodline hold the key to reaching those places. We don’t have to be alone. We can be connected with each other.”
I was annoyed. “We aren’t alone Mister Fromer. Look around you. This village contains over 300 souls. And there are many more like it throughout the countryside. I bet we could round up thousands of folks in a few weeks.”
Fromer sipped his tea with a gentle slurp. Crickets chirped and a nighthawk whined. The green beings grew bored and walked back into the woods, their glow dimming as they retreated between the boughs. “What do you think happened to the ancient ones, as you call them? I think your elders say that they angered the gods and were whacked for their arrogance. I am not going to tell you what happened exactly. This is for you to learn on your own. However, the ancient ones were searching for places to go and looking in the wrong place. There were so many of them, and yet they were growing lonelier and greedier. You should embrace what you have here. Unfortunately, change, and great responsibility, is coming. The vacuum will eventually challenge you and your people again – much too soon.”
Fromer sat quietly, scratching the small patch of coal-tar hair on the top of his head. “Let me tell you a story about who I am and what brought me here. This may seem strange to you, but I was not born. I have no mother, father, or family. Rather, I was made on another earth – a planet – far away in the void beyond your sun and moon. Part of me is like you – human. The other part isn't of this earth, as you can clearly see.” He tapped on his breast, producing a hollow clack. “The other half of my body is of an alien race called the zenats. As you can already gather, that part’s quite different. For example, I breathe through my chest, not my mouth. I saw you noticing that, Amy. Very perceptive.”
He paused thoughtfully, while father and I stared, our tea cups untouched. He continued. “So, here I was starting my life already feeling quite alone. I was trained by both humans and zenats to do many things, except to have fun and to relax. Love escaped me, or so I thought.” He smiled sadly. “I was already quite old when I realized that it was time to move on. I found myself walking on a world of mirrors, chasing another version of myself when the door opened. You always have choices and I didn’t have to enter. A good friend convinced me that it was time to go. You’ll learn about this world soon enough. And you’ll find that another door has opened, here on earth.”
I squirmed in the bench. “What kind of vague story is that about mirrors and doors? And how can you not have a mother and father? That’s impossible. I’m assuming that you’re using the word door as some sort of metaphor? Teacher uses those all the time. I personally think they're attempts to skirt the truth about things that Teacher doesn’t quite understand.”
Fromer nearly spit out his tea as he giggled. “Very intuitive my dear Amy. Some of this is right on the tip of the arrow point. It should be pretty obvious that I’m withholding much of my experience. And I’m still learning, thankfully. It is so difficult for me to put this into terms you’d understand right now. If I started using words like quantum drive, particle physics, teleportation, terraforming, warps, computers, and so on, how would you feel?”
“I’d feel that you're an insane god.” I poured my cold tea on the damp ground.
“Perhaps I am. Here’s the deal for you and your father." His chiseled eyes penetrated my round ones. “Live your life as you always have. But be prepared that change is coming. By traveling along the timeline, I'll drop by from time to time to check in. But this will be your struggle. Mind you, they are approaching. And they are hungry.” He pointed at the sky, with its full, lighted moon and the billions of stars. His body light dimmed. “And there are others beyond all of this that are stirring as well. They are seeping out of the door, which you will soon learn much about.”
“What do you mean by beyond this?” Father asked.
“When I slipped through, I discovered – others. Impossible to define exactly. But very dangerous and jealous of life. They want to come here and extinguish life and the light it produces. Very evil, indeed.” Fromer hopped up and cleared his throat. “Enough of the dark talk. I will have to leave when the sun rises. Ansam, father of Amy, I would love to see your forge and some of your coveted blades. I've been known to wield a weapon every once in a while.”
We walked to father’s forge and then to the vast, rectangular storage building where he kept some of his best weapons. Fromer gravitated toward a large blade with a simple leather scabbard. Fromer looked at father. “Do you mind if I – “
�
�I’d be honored.”
Fromer gently lifted the blade, pulled it out, and then swung it lightly in the air against an invisible opponent. His movements were fluid and balanced. I was impressed. This god was made for war.
Light appeared on the horizon and Fromer appeared to recede. “I must go now.” He set down the sword.
Father shook his head, picking up the blade and handing it to our new friend. “Fromer you can’t go on without this. It was certainly fashioned for you. I didn’t realize it at the time. But you've got to have it.”
Fromer smiled, grabbed the weapon and its sheath, and leapt out the door. When I ran to the awning, he had vanished. The first beam of sunlight tickled the dew. “He’s gone father.”
“Oh, I’d reckon he’ll be back. Wait ‘til we tell the others in town about this.”
“Father, are you considering telling people? They'll never believe us. If you weren’t so valuable as a smith and me as the garden tender, they’d cast us out as touched or worse yet possessed. I’m not sure I believe what we just saw. How’d we convince others?”
“At the very least, you must tell Wenn, Amy. He’ll be your husband soon. As family, he’ll be mixed up in this at some time.”
Conflict boiled up within me. Wenn had been my choice. But, while Wenn served as an able successor to father’s post in town and as a future father to my children, I still felt separate from him. I had secrets that I wouldn’t share with anyone, including that man. Telling him about the god Fromer or whatever it was that we met didn’t feel right. For father, Wenn was a son, confidant, and unfortunately a drinking partner. I knew that there was no avoiding this revelation. If I didn’t do it, the shine in father would do it for me.
The next evening at supper, Wenn, father, and I were talking about routine matters of the day. The forge needed a new roof, the new group of students in the gardens was lazy, and fall was arriving earlier than usual. I suddenly heard myself talking. “Wenn, father and I have something to tell you. You’ll never believe it – and perhaps that’s best. Maybe we were imagining it ourselves.”
