A fantasy short story

A Forbidden Land
Copyright © 2006 Philip Raymond Sadler

----A cloud broke overhead. Rain pelted the dunes until the water ran in rivulets, quenching the extreme thirst of the hot sands.
----A man squatted beside a rock, sheltered from the howling wind which attempted to lash him with the large, heavy drops. He tried not to shiver. It was two days since he ventured into the desert, and, as the oracle predicted, he had been followed by wind and rain. Things he could do without. He had water enough to cross, and food was easy to find. Any stray Leaser would serve as a meal. The desert would be teaming with them, due to the rains. The sand would quickly be saturated and the usually dormant Hasier flowers would be springing up with their legendary swiftness.
----The oracle said his trip was doomed, and it looked like it. Most of his race would have turned back when the first raindrops fell, but he was unlike them. Nothing could sway him from exploring the forbidden land beyond the mountains.
----The mountains. They cut across the horizon, just after the deserts terminus. They were big and, some said, impassable. He would find out soon, for he would be there in a few days. He squinted at the sky. The rain had slackened to a fine mist and the clouds were beginning to churn about. Almost, he thought, like the beginning at a wind spiral. They could cause so much destruction, and, if he could not stay ahead of it, it would force him to give up his venture. To turn back now, would be a heartbreak.
----He stood and the mist, driven by the hard wind, stung his face and chest. His breech cloth threatened to tear free and he pulled the cord, binding it tighter about him. He picked up the animal skin water bag and stepped around the rock, into the full force of the wind.
----The mist blinded him and he had to shelter his eyes with a hand and look at the wet, mushy sand to make sure of his footing. There was a danger of sinkholes, and the deadly Harmerans lived in their tunnels. They could kill twenty of his race with one sting of their tendrils. There was only one way to kill them. He shuddered at that unpleasant thought and bent into the wind.
----It was difficult to walk, for the wind was an almost solid wall holding him back. He looked again to the tortured sky and the ugly purple clouds were swirling in a definite spiral. They were directly overhead and, in a matter of minutes, maybe seconds, the wind would whirl about him and suck him into the vortex.
----He clutched the water skin to his chest and tried to run into the wind. He put all his energy into it, but could make only a few hundred yards. The sand behind was suddenly sucked up and began to spin. Small rocks showered from the wind funnel. One struck him in the back, causing him to stumble and fall. He crawled on all fours as the churning sand reached week fingers toward him. He found a rock and slumped behind it, holding his arms around it as best he could. It served as a fair anchor. The sand blasted against him as the wind whirl sped past. His refuge shook and the tips of his fingernails were abraded by the stone as the vortex tore at him.
----Thunder crashed somewhere and the wind spiral danced away, leaving him buried in the wet sand. He lay there for some time to make sure the wind had quieted. Spirals were known to double back. He relaxed his fingers from the stone. They were numb and stiff. He worked them open and closed with some difficultly and, heaving himself to his hands and knees, shook the wet, clinging sand from his body.
----The air was as still as death and the heat of the sun breaking through the slate gray clouds, was creeping back. A good sign, he thought. He searched for his water skin and found it a few yards away, lying with the stopper out. He snatched it up and jambed the wooden stopper into its mouth. Half the water had spilled.
---Crossing the desert wouldn't be as easy as he hoped, but he would still be able to make it. He looked at the brightening sun and started after the storm. As an after effect of the rain, and the heating of the sun, the flowers were already beginning to stick up their green shoots. A few had bloomed already, a record for them, and were reaching up towards the yellow source of all life.
---The mountains echoed and re-echoed with the turbulence of the storm and the wind shocked sand created a haze in the distance. He paused and took a small drink from the skin. Two days more travel would bring him to the base of the mountains. Once there, he should find water. Perhaps a good clear stream or pond. He sat on the boulder and watched the storm pass over the mountains. The Spiral seemed to batter itself into a breeze against the tallest peaks and the purple clouds of rain began to disperse. A few tongues of lightning flashed brilliantly against the snow capped peaks, and thunder echoed faintly from beyond them.
----Like him, the storm was probing into the forbidden land, but the mountain seemed not to hinder it. He could see, high in the blighted sky, the clouds as they twisted into a circle. The spiral had reformed on the other side and renewed its assault on the land. It quickly moved out of sight beyond the barrier.
----He snapped the stopper into the water skin and wiped at the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. He would have to find somewhere to stay until the sun passed over. The heat of the mid day sun was almost unbearable. He began searching the sand for a group of rocks or something he could use to prepare a makeshift shelter.
----He found a large, flat boulder and began digging a shallow pit beneath it. He gouged at the sand with both hands as the heat baked his shoulders and back. He dug out an adequate pit and shoved the water skin in. He climbed on top of the rock and jumped up and down on it as hard as he could to test it for sturdiness. It held and he leaped down and crawled into the cool, shadowy pit.
----He pillowed his head with the water bag and closed his eyes to wait out the sun. He awakened some time later to faint scratchings. The sun was down entirely, and a harsh, cold wind was crawling its way across the sand. He lifted his head and concentrated on the scratching sounds. They were coming from below him, at the base of the rock. Something was tunneling under the stone. The sounds grew louder and he could feel the sand at his feet, moving, falling down. A wide tunnel formed. It was dark for a moment, then there was a white flash. He drew his knees to his chest just as a needle tipped tentacle shot at his feet. It missed by inches, and he scrambled from the pit. He grabbed the water skin, and the tentacle struck the wooden stopper, spewing yellow poison onto the sand. He jerked the skin into the moonlight and rubbed the stopper against the sand to cleanse it of the poison. The scraping continued for a moment and a sensory tentacle poked out from under the boulder. He fingered through the sand and found a head-sized rock. He hurled it as hard as he could at the tentacle. The Harmeran screamed and the tentacle writhed and was still. He threw a handful of sand at it. It did not react. He had crushed it free of the Harmeran.
----When the pain left the Harmeran, it would leap from the tunnel and attack him. He would have to be a long way away before this. The Harmeran could track him without the sensory arm. He picked up the water skin and, with a last look toward the tunnel and the whimpering Harmeran, trotted toward the rising moon. It was full and bright. It mirrored from a vast expanse of rock in the distance and lighted the sand, casting thousands of shadows.
----The air was bitter cold and the tiny flowers were lying huddled close to the ground for warmth. He held the slightly warm water bag to his chest and quickened his pace. He hadn't reckoned on the sudden cold of the desert night and hadn't brought along one of the cloaks. Cloaks were hard to come by, unless you owned one of the thread animals. There was nothing he could do about it now.
----The moon continued its journey as his tired feet sank silently into the sand. It was unlikely he would be followed by the Harmeran. They didn't usually stray too far from their tunnels. He slowed to a brisk walk and sniffed the air. A slight, bitterly cold wind was stirring and along with it came the scent of Leasers. He suddenly felt the hunger gnawing at his stomach. If he were lucky, he might be able to catch one or two of them.
----He slowed to a creeping walk and cast about the sand with his eyes. The sickly sweet odor of the leasers grew overpowering and he was soon gasping for breath. He topped a dune and stopped cold. Slightly below him and in the very near distance, hundreds of the small, red and brown Leasers milled about blindly, crawling over each other. He sank to the sand and sat watching the disorder. They had been driven crazy with the excess of water.
----He walked down to the seething edge of the Leasers and saw a pond was obscured by them. They fought to soak their scaly bodies in the water and to drink until they could drink no more, and then come to the top, drunken and crazy with the water.
----He found two that had been killed in the general milling about and took then up to the sand dune where he had left the water skin, and went about looking for a stone to use as a cutting edge. He had lost his knife on the first night and hadn't been able to fashion another. He found a round, flat, stone, thinner on one side then the other. He pulled another, bigger, smoother stone up to the water skin and, laying the Leasers on the stone, chopped off their heads, legs, and tails. He skinned then and, after gutting them, freed the yellowish meat from the bones. He buried the remains in the sand and wiped his hands on the sides of the rock. He used a small portion of the drinking water to moisten the meat. He ate the raw meat, wishing for a cooking fire, and took a drink of water.
----The sweet meat filled his grouchy stomach and quieted its rumblings. He stretched contentedly, picked up the water skin, and began walking towards the moon. He skirted the milling Leasers and trotted quickly away from them. The air grew clearer and he remembered the cold.
----The great shining surface of rock was drawing nearer and the moon sailed almost over his head. He sat on a stone and strained his eyes. The ghostly shimmering rock surface shot moonlight back at him and he almost wished he were back with the race. He sighed. No one had mentioned a large expanse of stone in this direction. The wise men hadn't spoken of it, only the sands and rocks, and small boulders.
----Perhaps it was as he thought. No one had ever ventured here before. They had all been too afraid of the unknown. They made up tales of what was here and beyond in order to frighten others from exploring. They did not wish to find out. Superstition was a bad disease of the race. It had always been so. Long ago, when others had tried to disprove the superstitions, they had been either killed or cast out of the living place. No one had ever gone to the mountains and come back. Even the elders had not actually crossed the desert as they said.
----He had been disillusioned before he left the living place. Two of his people had disproved one of the superstitions and had shaken the race. He had seen it. They made a fire other than the sacred Temple fire. They used two rocks and caused some dry leaves to flame by a spark produced. It had disillusioned him, and now, that disillusionment was almost complete. Now that he found the elders had lied, he had little faith in what they said. He would ignore all the superstitions and try to find out what was truth.
----He shivered in the cold and began walking. The mountains were nearer and he figured he should reach them by late afternoon the next day. The air was icy cold and his breath sent clouds of vapor into the night. His feet were cold and numb, and the water skin seemed to soak up the heat of his body.
----He quickened his pace to a trot, hoping to warm himself a little and to bring life back into his feet. The moon passed behind him and he ran on as the dawn broke to his left.
----His feet had long since come to painful life, and he had stopped several times to rub the stiff soreness from his legs. The sun peeked over the sand in the horizon and the warmth of its first rays chased the chill of the night away. He came to an abrupt stop and sank tiredly to the sand. He took a drink from the nearly exhausted supply of water and looked toward the mountains. They were still far away, but before the day was over, he would reach their feet. He changed his gaze to his left to the shining stone surface. He had strayed from his course after the moon had set and had run a few degrees to his right. He'd have to make up for that. A straight line is the shortest distance between two houses provided there isn't a mountain between them. He scratched his blond head. Which of the wise men had told him that? They all looked so much alike, it was hard to tell them apart. Names seemed useless when you saw them in a group. Unless they answered when their name was called, you would never find the right one just by looking.
----It was most probably the long bushy beards they wore. And the eye patch. They all wore one over their right eye. He had asked one of the wise men why. He told him it was to protect the race from the one thing which made them unlike the others and, to some extent, holy. It was to cover their eye of truth and power.
----It was rumored that just by lifting the patch and looking at a person, he could tell if the person were speaking the truth and thinking in the right manner. If he weren't, the eye would burn him to cinders. This could be avoided if the person were to change his ways and respect the superstitions. He laughed. When Kobob and Barikan had made the other fire, the wise men had not lifted their eye patches to blast them. They did not charge treason and unholiness but proclaimed it a day of eternal celebration for the great ones who provided the eternal fire had blessed the race with the power to produce the holy light at will. He hadn't believed them. For some reason, their gesture had appeared as a move of desperation. A gambit in hopes of not losing the following of the people. The others had accepted it, even Hobob and Barikan, but he had rejected their explanation. It seemed false.
----He shook his head tiredly. It was almost as if his brain worked of its own. It rejected all things automatically that seemed false without his consciously thinking. A resolution just seemed to appear as if a picture had been painted inside his skull. Each conclusion erased the the prior picture and painted another. It was something he did not understand and sometimes he felt afraid, but he was also proud and thankful. He felt different from the others. Not better, just different. Different in a better way. He also felt sorrow for them because they did not have his amazing gift.
----The sun had risen higher and he realized he had to continue. He sipped at the remaining water, stoppered the bag's month, and assumed a fast walk. He had hopes of getting there before midday now that he had seen the progress he had made during the night. Daylight somehow seemed to uncover pleasant surprises. He sighed and began trotting along the sand, toward the light reflecting stone expanse he had discovered.
----As the sun reached one third of its travels, he came to the glassy smooth stone. It mirrored the sun's rays, but not so it hurt his eyes, as yet. He moved slowly across the slippery surface to avoid falling.
The rock returned his reflection and he watched it as he walked. He began to count his steps to pass the time, and did not immediately detect the scraping of scales behind him. He reached one hundred before it charged. He heard the swishing noise the tentacle made as it sliced through the hot air and, spinning around and almost falling, blocked the deadly needle with the water skin. He faced the Harmeran as it slid toward him with tiny, clawed legs. It slammed the tentacle at him again, and he narrowly blocked it.
----He backed up quickly. Wounding the Harmeran must have driven it crazy to cause it to brave the sun and venture from the sand. But, even before the sun could bake it to death, it would have killed and digested him and returned to it's lair.
----He blocked another crashing blow and glanced quickly ever his shoulder. He would have a fighting chance if he could find a high rock to climb on. He ducked his head as the beast struck again. The rock behind him was perfectly smooth for as far as he could see. It seemed to run on to meet the mountain. If he did not do something fast, he would be dead.
----There was only one option. He dodged another attack of the poisonous tentacle and pulled the wooden stopper from the water skin. It wasn't sharp, but if he could rupture the Harmeran's heart through its stomach lining before the digesting fluids were spit upon him, he would be able to kill it. It would have to be fast. He stood where he was, waiting for the next attack.
----The Harmeran moved its long, worm-shaped body forward. Its mouth was open, sure of its kill. He heaved the water skin at the tentacle as it struck, knocking it aside, and leaped, foot first, into the Harmeran's foul smelling mouth. He slid down into the stomach and began frantically pounding against the lining, trying to find the heart. He felt around the wall as the juices began to trickle into the cavity. They flowed toward his feet. He ran his hand along the slimy lining in desperation. The juices burned the soles of his feet. He felt a beating under his palm and jammed the stopper down as hard as he could. He felt the heart burst under his pounding. The Harmeran gave a convulsive shudder and was still. He scrambled up the throat and into the spongy mouth. He hooked the stopper in his waist rope and, placing his hands on the halves of the huge mouth, heaved. He strained until he could strain no more. He kicked at the tiny teeth in desperation and the jaws sprang open. He threw himself out and lay on the smooth rock, sobbing. His feet burned like they were on fire.
----He dragged himself to the water skin and poured its meager contents over his burning feet. The acids washed off and the sting lessened somewhat. He jammed the stopper back into the skin's mouth and sat glaring at the dead Harmeran. It lay with its mouth open. Its tiny eyes were frozen wide with shock.
----Killing a Harmeran from the inside was one thing the elders had said that was true. He caught his breath and, pulling it up to him, examined the bottom of his right foot. It was red and raw, but not too bad. It would be painful walking over the hot rock, but he could bear it, would have to bear it. He stood and winced as the heat of the rock added to the pain of the acid burns. He began to walk.
----He picked the water skin up and clutched it in both hands. He would have to find water now. It was a must. He stopped thinking about the Harmeran and concentrated on counting his footsteps. The sun climbed until it was over his head.
----The mountains were huge before him. He had not reached the base yet, but scattered hunks of rock lay on the smooth stone. He sank onto one of these and inspected his feet. The shade, afforded by an outcropping of rock above him, helped to lessen the pain in them. He moved closer to the sheer rock wall and touched his feet to it. The stone was cool and the relief brought tears.
----Now all he had to do was find water. Not a simple task. He began walking along the towering rocks to his left. He stepped from the expanse of rock into the cool, moist sand and went on a few yards where he found a small recess. It was maybe twenty feet wide, and ten high. It looked like it had been scooped out of the solid rock cliffs by a giant hand. A small clear pool lay there. It was fed by a stream of water which spouted from the rock. An almost perfectly round tunnel-like opening served as the stream's mouth.
----He sank onto the rocky shore and lowered his face into the water and drank. He filled the water skin and then dumped his aching feet into the water. He waded into it and splashed off the sand and sweat. He fell backwards and lay looking at the rock ceiling.
----When he was a child, he used to go swimming every day in a huge pond by the living place. He and the other boys used to try and out do each other by seeing which one could hold his breath the longest. He was the champ for three years until he became sixteen periods and been christened a man. After that, all he could do was watch as his younger friends frolicked in the water. The pond was reserved only for the young and the very old. Becoming a man was hard. It was cruel.
----He startled as one of the Leasers splashed into the pool and began swimming around him. He scooped some water at it, causing it to dive for the bottom, and laughed as it tried to run along it. It soon gave up and swam to the top where it floated with its legs and long tail trailing out from it.
----He touched it on the nose and it snapped at his finger. He jerked his hand back and waded to shore. The Leaser luxuriated in the intoxicating water, jumping in and out as a fish sometimes does. It would probably never leave the pond, not even for mating.
----He gathered up his water skin and, after chunking a pebble at the floating Leaser, began to walk along the high rocky cliffs of the mountains. There didn't seem to be a way up the side as yet. Ha walked until he found a narrow jutting rock. He stopped beneath its shadow and looked out at the desert. The dunes seemed to be shifting before his eyes and he knew there was a very hard wind blowing across it. A sandstorm.
----He resumed his walk. Near nightfall, he came to a narrow separation between two of the mountains and stepped into its shadowy interior. The split went back for a few feet and seemed to continue up past the tops of the mountains. There was a thick layer of moss growing on the ground. He sank down to this and decided to spend the night there. He pulled some of the moss up and tossed it lazily at one of the rock walls. He scratched his head and his eyes widened.
----There was a recess there, carved, almost like a deliberately placed step. He got up and went over to it. He found another a few inches higher and another. They continued until they were almost out of sight. He swayed with dizziness as he looked up at the top of the cleft. It was almost straight up. It would be impossible to carve steps while climbing. They probably went only a few feet and then stopped. He placed his toes into the first grooves and began climbing. After he had gone several yards, he came back down and fastened the water skin to the waist rope of his loin cloth. He'd climb as far as the steps would take him. If they stopped half way, all he would have wasted would be a little time. He had plenty of that.
----He stretched sore stiffness from his limbs and began the climb. He moved as rapidly as he could, making sure of his footing, and was soon a few dozen feet above the rocks. He paused to look down. He clawed at his hand holds and fought dizziness. The ground was far, far below. Too far for the time and distance he had climbed. He held on as best he could and closed his eyes.
----Something was wrong. It was impossible for the ground to have fallen away with such quickness and distance. As he was now, it was at least four thousand leaders from the ground. He should have been no more than one hundred. He was confused. He was almost afraid to continue his climb.
----He remembered when he was a boy and had climbed to the top of a very big tree. He bad shouted at the other boys as he climbed, telling them they were just afraid and it was really easy. But when he reached the top and looked down, the wind began swaying the tree, and he froze, clinging to his perch. He suddenly became deathly afraid to move, and to climb down. Afraid, now that he realized the great height, that he would miss his footing and plunge to his death. He bad cried until his father came and helped him down by riding him on his back. He bad been ashamed for a long time after that and his friends made fun of him whenever they saw him in the forest.
----Here he was again, frozen high above the ground, wishing he had never climbed the tree. He opened his eyes and looked up. He had to do one of either, up or down. The top of the cliff was still far above, but it seemed to be a more welcomed home than the distant ground. If he did go up, and there was no way over the top, if the steps stopped a few yards from it, he would not have the courage to go down again. He realized that now. He would probably slip in his haste to get down.
----He squeezed his eyes closed, and began the climb to that offered sanctuary. He moved very slowly, feeling his way. He opened his eyes after a short while and looked at the gray rock as it passed on its destination to earth.
----He glanced up. The top was getting closer, but very slowly. Almost too slowly. He looked again at the rock wall. He was afraid to look down, afraid of what he might see, or what he might not see.
----The steps ended suddenly and he found himself at a ledge looking into the mouth of a huge, dark cave. He pulled himself onto the ledge and sat against a wall of the cave. He untied his water skin and took a long drink. He was tired and hungry, and it was impossible to hope to find a Leaser up here.
----He set his jaw, and lying on his stomach, hung his head over the ledge. The whole mountain seemed to swim in circles as he looked down into nothing. The darkness was complete, yet something shone below. Something incredibly tiny and bright, so, so, far below. He pushed himself back from the edge and lay on the cold rock until he quieted his shudders. He hadn't really been aware of his fear of heights. He hadn't known it was this strong. He sat up. It was almost pitch black, as the other towering cliff blocked off all light. He rubbed his eyes.
----Maybe it wasn't the fear of heights, maybe it wasn't so bad. It might be the strangeness of what was happening. Distances didn't leap up and down so wildly. It wasn't normal. Maybe it was fear of the unknown. No shame that. Even the bravest and most intelligent men were afraid of the unknown. Afraid of some threat it might hold for them. He shuddered again and picked up his water skin. He stood and stepped into the cave's yawning mouth. It was dark here. Too dark. It made him uncomfortable. He stopped after a few feet and waited until his eyes became adjusted to the oppressive lack of light.
----He could barely make out the shapes of rocks which lay on the cave floor. As he walked, he found the floor was as smooth as the shining expanse of rock in the desert. It was slippery, and he was forced to walk slowly, planting his feet firmly and holding his free hand out.
----He came to a sudden stop. What if he became lost and knew no way out? This cave could go down into the very bowels of the mountain chain. He stood in the dark in indecision. Would it suit his purpose to die without seeing beyond the mountains? What good seeing beyond, and then dying without telling the race what he had seen? He shrugged and began walking. His mind knew the answers before asked.
----He grew tired and sat on the cold stone floor. As far as he could tell, the tunnel was level and could cut all the way through the whole chain until it came to the far end. He would be no closer to the forbidden land than when he started. There hadn't been any branchings of the tunnel as yet. Of course, he couldn't see very much, but it was reasonable to assume a large opening in the rock wall would seem lighter than the shapes of the tunnel. This was his hope.
----His eyes seemed to be getting extremely used to the dark, for a faint hint of light appeared to ghost the tunnel. If not that, then there was a light coming from somewhere ahead. This bothered him, but he tried not to think about it.
----He lay the water skin on the floor and rested his head on it. He might as well sleep now, when his body was tired, than to wait until his mind grew fuzzy. He pulled himself into a ball and screwed his eyes shut. The darkness seemed to close in upon him. He forgot his surroundings and thought of his living place and the race.
----The trapped feeling continued throughout the night. He moved restlessly in his sleep, wanting to run somewhere, and he mumbled fitfully. His words echoed far down the tunnel.
----When he awakened, he was walking with the water skin clutched to his chest. The light was just bright enough so he could see his hand. The air in the tunnel was warn and moist, moving towards him like a slow, gentle breeze. He halted and took a drink.
----This was the first time he had walked in his sleep, and it gave him an unpleasant feeling. He could have gone the opposite direction and fallen off the ledge. Why didn't he? He recapped the skin and continued. The light grew brighter but he could not see the usual outline of another opening. The light just seemed to be there, hanging in the air. He looked over his shoulder. The light rayed out behind him for a few yards, and then fell off suddenly, to let the smothering darkness crowd in. His neck hair prickled. The light was following him as he walked. How? It was something he just couldn't understand. It was not possible.
----He shook off the feeling. Light could not kill him, even if it did follow his every step, and the darkness was more apt to hurt him. It seemed cold and hard, and he was glad the light protected him.
----He wasn't afraid of ordinary darkness, but this darkness was different, thicker somehow. Colder. He wasn't sure what it was, but his neck prickled when he thought about his sleep bout.
----He had suffered a nightmare. Had toppled from a huge pedestal and fallen and fallen and fallen, and had never hit the bottom. He fell in that frightening darkness, reaching for hands that offered help, but never quite touching them, spinning slowly head over heels. He had seen pitying faces that wanted to help, but could not. He had found himself walking and his mind had somehow connected this with his dream. He left it alone. It was saying things he did not understand. Using words never spoken by the race. Telling him concepts unbelievable and as impossible as the light which followed him through the darkness. He left his mind alone and focused his eyes on the receding darkness ahead. His mind whispered to itself and he shrugged uncomfortably.
----The darkness dissolved, as his cone of light pushed slightly ahead, and a branch in the main tunnel showed itself. He stopped. It was leading to his right, in the direction of the forbidden land. He moved toward it.
A harsh, blue spiral of fire sprang out of nowhere. It moved towards him, pushing him away from the side tunnel, warning him not to enter. He ran along the main tunnel for a few yards, and looked back. The flame still hung there, guarding the other tunnel's entrance. It seemed to pulsate now, in an almost friendly way. He wiped the sweat beads from his forehead and felt the sting on his hand where the fire had burned it. He pressed it against the cool side of the water skin and walked quickly away from the pulsating spiral until he could see it no more.
----It frightened him; a creature of fire. A guard for the tunnel for other creatures? His mind added to his fear and confusion. How could fire live? He looked at his hand, it had stopped burning and seemed all right. And who could control it? His mind told him things, and he pushed them away, not wanting to understand, not wanting to be confused. A little at a time. He would consider just small parts of what his free thinking mind whispered to him. Just bits and pieces.
----He unstoppered the skin and took a long, hard drink. He washed it around in his mouth and swallowed it slowly. He would have to conserve it if he were going to wander around the tunnel. He would have to turn back after half was gone and return to the ledge. If there were no water in the tunnel, in spite of his fear, he would have to climb down the mountain and gather more. A thing, he told himself bitterly, he should have thought of before climbing to the cliff. He should have sat down and planned on a long trip, laying in supplies of water and meat.
----He jammed the stopper back into the bag's mouth and continued. He counted his footsteps, cutting down the monotony of the gray rock walls filing past, and recited fables or poems he learned from the wise men.
Each boy had to learn the great fables of the race and the dozens of superstitions they held before he could be called a man. They were all long and hard and they sometimes could not be learned by all the people. Those who could not learn them were commanded to hunt and fish for the race and to clean the homes from all rodents, an unsavory task. They seem duller than the rest, and they seem not to mind the work. One of the elders had said they had been damaged during birth and the Power had not been able to help them recover. He pitied them and wished they could be helped, but the elders said no. His mind said, “Perhaps, some of them, perhaps,” and went on to more important things.
----The light around him had grown as bright as the noon sunlight and seemed to illuminate a larger distance along the tunnel. It felt as warm as the sun's rays and made him stop worrying about everything. He hummed a tune and watched the tunnel ahead.
----The light stopped. So did he. The tunnel lighted itself for some distance ahead and he could see another branching. This time, there were two, one to the left and one to the right. He approached the one at his left and a flaming spiral leaped at him. He drew back hastily and stepped toward the branch to his right. He stepped through it. No fire protested. He stepped back out and moved toward the main tunnel. It was instantly blocked by a second spiral of flame. He was not to go any further in that direction. He took to the open tunnel to his right with some misgiving.
----This tunnel was smaller than the main one, and it was lighted by a glow of its own. There was no darkness here, nothing cold to stop him and slip its slimy fingers about him and finger him into fear. The light was warm and friendly. He hummed a happy tune as he walked down the echoing passageway. His humming came back at bit weirdly. It sounded louder, harsher, as if it came from another person. He laughed nervously. It rifled back at him and died to eerie silence. He smiled to himself. It had been the normal kind of echo. The other had been so, too, but he had been nervous and it had fooled his ears.
----"Eat," his mind said. He didn't heed it. He couldn't. He had no food.
----He came to a part of the tunnel which was cut square and smooth. There were large, triangle shaped recesses carved into both walls at regular intervals. He inspected one and saw that smaller, perfect circles were cut into the centers of each triangle. Each circle had a square in its center and each square contained two looping oblongs, one crossing the middle of the other, causing four even projections. There was a dot in the center of each pair of oblongs and it glowed green. He touched gentle fingers against one. It vibrated against his fingers and he felt a faint warmth. He pressed his palm over it and the oblongs began to spin, slowly at first, then faster until they were just a blur. It could not happen unless the stone itself were moving. It wasn't, only the oblongs spun. He removed his palm and the oblongs slowed and gradually stopped. He scratched his head in puzzlement, and moved down the passage.
----He came to a smooth stone wall. There was no doorway and he could not find another side tunnel. He turned and started back along the carvings. As he reached the last one, a flaming spiral leaped from nowhere and flared in his face, blinding him temporarily. He stumbled backwards and fell to the floor. He rubbed his eyes and saw nothing but blue fire dancing in his head. He held them closed until the fires dwindled to two small blue dots that floated before him. He sat up and looked sullenly at the hovering fire. He was trapped now, with no way out. It looked as though the spirals were nothing but weird animals luring their prey into traps and then killing them.
----Would he be burned to death? He stood and retrieved the water skin. As he took a small drink, the fire guard drifted toward him. He stoppered the skin and moved backwards. He touched the end of the tunnel with his back and stopped. He had gone as far as he could, but the fire was still advancing. He held the water skin up to protect himself. The pulsating guard moved round to his left. It jumped toward him and he leaped backwards and came up hard against the side wall. The skin was knocked from his hands and he threw his am up to protect his face from the fire. It stopped just a few feet from him and floated there.
----He looked about. He tried to dodge back down the tunnel, but another spiral appeared and cut off his retreat. He sank back into the corner and looked up at the two guards.
----"What now?" he asked. "What do you want me to do?" He pointed to the water skin a few feet distant. "May I get that? I promise I won't run." He moved forward, but the fires hung as they were, motionless. He drew back from their heat and looked about the tunnel. He was leaning against one of the carved triangles. The small green dot was humming softly and the light was pulsating in rhythm with the blue spirals. He looked from one to the other. He pressed his palm against the green dot and the oblongs began to spin.
----There was a sucking noise and the end of the tunnel began to slid aside slowly. It moved across the width of the wall and seemed to vanish.
----He could see total darkness inside. He leaped under the first fire guard, grasped the water skin, and retreated into the darkness as the other guard rushed close to him. He held out a hand to protect himself and the hair was singed. The guard hung in the doorway until the other joined it, and the door began to slide shut. He made three attempts to dive under them, but was caught each time by one of them and forced back. He stood in the darkness helplessly until the door slid into place and left him in silence.
----He placed his right hand against the wall and began to follow it along. He was hoping to find another triangle. It was impossible to see and each step he took shook his balance and he felt as if he were continually on the verge of falling. He stopped and the unpleasant feeling ceased. When he started again, it was stronger. He wished his personal light had followed him into this place. He had gone more than three hundred leaders and had not as yet meet with a corner. His footsteps echoed loud and seemed to linger longer than usual. He stopped his blind inspection and sat on the floor. He took a sip from the water skin and closed his eyes. They were beginning to hurt from his efforts to see through the darkness. He pressed his palms against them and sighed.
----There was a movement in the darkness, something he sensed rather than saw, and a soft greenish light illuminated the cavernous room. He sat with his month open; speechless.
----The chamber was huge. Its floor stretched so far into the distance, the walls looked indistinct. The ceiling, if it had one, was so high, it couldn't be seen. In the center, sat a towering green, rock pyramid. Its sides rose to dizzying heights, until its sharp pinnacle was almost invisible. He stood, unsteadily, hooked the water skin onto his rope belt, and walked the long distance to the gleaming pyramid. It towered above him, dwarfing him, and it seemed to sway, to bend and beckon, to call him to its lofty heights. It frightened him. He reached out a trembling hand and touched one glistening side. It seemed to vibrate with power and life. His hand stayed as it was and he looked again to its swaying top. He walked along the huge side and around the sharp corner. He found steps carved in the second side. Steps like those in the mountain. He began climbing. He reached the top quickly. He stood balancing on the sharp tip and calling to the roof as it swam above him. He laughed uncontrollably and flailed his arms wildly as he lost balance. He screamed and fell.
----He awakened in a cold sweat and opened his eyes to the darkness. The nightmare was over, but be still felt the effects of falling. He stood unsteadily and found, to his horror, the water skin was tied to his loin cloth as in the dream. He swayed for a moment.
----Was it a dream or had he fallen? Was he in that room or the tunnel? Had he walked in his sleep and dreamed of a coming event? He strained his eyes in the darkness and saw nothing. He moved to his left and the falling sensation caught him in its grasp. His fingers touched a smooth rock surface and he sank to the floor. He leaned his back to the wall. He breathed deeply and pressed his hands against his eyes. He stiffened. It had happened like that in the dream. Was he awake now, or was he dreaming again?
----He went over the dream. It was still vivid in his memory. The green light should have come on by now. No, there had been an uneasy feeling, a feeling of some other thing moving, and then the light. He leaned into the darkness and stifled his breathing to listen.
----Nothing but the beat of his heart. He leaned back against the wall and pulled his legs against his chest. The water skin hung at his side. He touched it, to reassure himself of its existence, and closed his eyes. He jerked awake for the second time. His neck hair bristled. The green light was there and the room and pyramid were as he had dreamed. Huge and dizzying in their vastness. The pyramid glistened in the light and swayed slowly. He refused to look at it.
----A whirlwind of dazzling colors sprang up before him, hypnotic in its movements. He stood with a leap and froze where he was, his eyes glued to the churning glorious colors. All colors imaginable, moving, writhing, shaping into clouds of misty delight. He sank to the floor, helpless with the beauty of the dancing lights, and was lost in a world of childlike fascination.
----The colors surrounded him, gathered him into sensuous arms, and caused him to stand and dance along with them. He danced to the visual rhythm of the lights and colors and was led toward the swaying pyramid. He caught the ghostly glow of it and tried to resist. It seemed to beckon him, to urge him to come to it. It blended in with the swirling, happy colors and he followed, not wanting to, yet having to.
----His head cleared for a moment and he saw the smooth, polished groves in the pyramid's side. He shuddered in that instant and screamed. He pulled back from the dancing colors and fell to his knees. He covered his eyes with his hands. The colors tried to push through, to hold onto him, but he squeezed his fingers tighter together and they faded away and left him kneeling on the floor, crying softly.
----When he calmed himself enough to risk opening his eyes, he was standing inside the center of the pyramid. He clutched his water skin, revolved in a circle and moved his eyes about the cone-shaped interior. He looked out through the stone. The room was lighted by a soft blue light which revealed everything, including the distant, misty ceiling.
----He remembered nothing but the dreams. The uneasy feeling they gave him lingered and he shuddered. He wasn't sure what had happened, or how he bad gotten inside the stone, but he was sure be hadn't traveled the path of the dream. That path would have brought about his death.
----There had to be some kind of door or be couldn't have gotten in. He fastened the water skin to his loin cloth and began to inspect the walls with his hands. He found nothing, no seams or even scratches. The air was becoming hot and stuffy and he suddenly become afraid of suffocation. He moved around the cone a second time and still found nothing.
----A blast of cold air hit him from the apex of the cone and he pressed himself against one side to escape the bite of it. As he watched, a small puddle of ice formed on the smooth floor. He pressed back further as it grew in diameter, reaching searing cold fingers toward his feet.
----A hissing he hadn't noticed stopped. From above, a red light brought oppressive heat to the puddle of ice and there was a sudden rising of steam. The cone filled with the suffocating mist. The red light ceased, the cold came back, and it began to rain. A puddle formed, then warm air circulated through the cone, breezing across the area from behind him. He turned and found a small vent-like opening. It snapped closed, and the water began to rise as small, round openings above began to pour streams of it into the center of the floor. The water rose to his waist, but stopped as the openings closed.
----A rod came down from the apex of the cone and pressed against the top of his head. It pushed him under the water and held him there. He ducked lower, almost impossibly so, and swam to one side. He came up gasping for breath. The rod retracted and he half swam, half walked, to where the water skin bobbed on the surface. He grabbed it up and stood against the wall.
----The valves near the floor opened and the water was sucked away. A hot wind blew through the cone and dried everything. Cool air circled round him, then all was silent.
----There was a peculiar noise, nothing he could identify or ascribe, and three projections appeared on the curved wall. Each was equidistant from the other. They looked like studs to be pressed. He strode over to them.
----Before him, an image began to take shape. It was a mass of seething orange fire, it pressed against the transparent side of the cone, seeking to pass through. There was a flicker to his left and another image misted into sight.
----A man, old and wrinkled, stood in a fertile, green place. He beckoned with a smile, tempting him to press the stub before him to join him in the land of beauty.
----To his right, a Harmeran appeared. It slapped its poisonous tentacle against the rock and opened its huge, dark mouth.
----The Harmeran tapped, the man beckoned, and the fire burned. He closed his eyes; a test. He was to choose one of the places and press that button. The Harmeran was out of the question. He stood, turned and studied the simply clothed man. He smiled warmly and moved a hand to his side, showing him the greenness around and behind him. He held his arms out as though offering a customary embrace of welcome.
----He felt uneasy. There was something wrong about the old man. He felt the same of the Harmeran. He turned quickly, grasping the water bag, and pushed savagely against the stud before the fire.
----The cone wall parted and he stepped into a long tunnel. Behind was a solid wall of strone. Ahead could be seen a bluish light indicating a round opening. The light was that of daylight. He was sure of it. Daylight. He had reached the other side. He ran forward, but stopped on the lip of the cave and looked down upon a green, fertile valley. A small forest cut across it, giving it a graceful beauty.
----He stumbled down the slight incline and tumbled head first onto the cool grass. It smelled sweet and good. He stood and looked around. He began walking toward this forest. Something in his mind whispered and he agreed with it.
----The valley was familiar, as if he had been there before, and he seemed to be heading to some well remembered destination. He came to the forest and stopped between two towering trees. They were higher than all the others, and so wide of trunk, ten of his race could not span them with their arms extended.
----The living place! It was the backyard of the living place. The tree to his right was that which he had climbed when a boy. He ran through the forest until he came to a clearing. It contained huts and the people he had known all his life. He stood in disbelief.
----How? He could not have gone in a circle in the mountains, for there were no mountains behind the living place. Only a desert. Fertileness of the living place was surrounded by a desert. The mountains were on the other side. There was just desert behind. He turned and raced back through the trees. He skidded to a stop and looked out into the vast oven of desert.
----The mountains had vanished. Vanished, but they had brought him here a few moments earlier. He stood confused, unsure if he were asleep and dreaming in the dark room.
----There were happy greetings.
----He turned and the people of the village stood watching.
----One of the eldest wise men held out his arms. “You see, my son, there is no forbidden land. There is only one place on this small world. Only one place where life can exist; the living place. Our living place.” He moved to his side and put an arm around the young man's shoulders and began leading him towards the village. “We are the only race living in a world of illusions; illusions caused by interaction between nature and the mind of he who ventures beyond the living place. Only the superstitions tell us what is real and what is illusion.” He smiled. “Come, you must be tired and hungry. Come to your hut and join us again.”
----He accepted the truth, and leaned his tired head on the old man's thin shoulder. His mind was satisfied for the first time in his adult life and he smiled.