Monday, 20 February 2017

The Coinbearer - Chapter 3


In the middle of the night, Jerna felt her throat parched. Somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, she tried to swallow. She got up, seeing only darkness, she felt around for her pack in search of her water skin. A hand grabbed her wrist. She froze.
“What are you looking for?” asked a gentle voice. Jerna realized that her rescuer was still there.
“My water,” her voice raspy with thirst.
He fell silent for a moment. “You lost your water in the lake.”
“What time is it?” She wondered how long she had slept as unease crept within her.
“It’s morning, can you not see the sun?”
Jerna did not know if she had heard him right. “What did you just say?”
“I said, it’s morning.”
She waved her hand in front of her face, then, looked about her. Nothing. She could not see. She covered her mouth as she felt a lump form in her throat. Why? How did this happen? What about the cure?
“Jerna, do you want some water?” he asked quietly.
Suddenly, she felt him envelope her with his body. Something pounded in the ground around them, kicking up the damp scent of earth and broken vegetation. A drop fell and landed on her. Then another.
“What’s going on?” she wanted to call his name, but she did not know it.
“Do not move,” he told her gravely, he sounded winded. A gasp came from him, Jerna felt his presence shielding her from something, but could not tell what it was.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
“Do not move.” This time it was a command.
More precipitation fell landing on her, she could still sense him hovering over her. But what is this precipitation?
Gingerly she touched where the drops landed on her. The moisture was not cold like rain, it was warm and sticky with a scent of iron. Blood? She shook her head. She grabbed at the air before her and found the material of his cloak.
“Get off me.” She felt her mouth work. “Move!” she begged, trying to push him away.
“No!”
“Are you bleeding? Why are you bleeding?” Panic rose with her voice. “Why are you doing this? What is going on?”
An agonizing cry came from him. Some droplets fell on her eyes, she wiped them with the back of her hand and finally saw him. He was covered in blood. Something rose up behind him – a thorny vine, red with blood.
“Get off me!” she begged, as she watched the point thrust into his back.
A hand covered her eyes. She tried to remove his hand.
“It will be over soon,” he whispered.
Sure enough, her vision opened, he still hovered over her drenched in red. She was covered in blood – his blood. The vines withdrew, slithering away from them.
In relief, he collapsed to the side. She sat up and turned towards him.
His eyes were closed, his back was filled with puncture wounds. Seeing him wounded for her sake, her shoulders shook. Her cry tore through the air.
A stranger had taken the blows from the demons in her place, yet he was not any stranger. He knew her and was her rescuer. A pair of strong arms encircled her and held her close as she sobbed uncontrollably.
“It is all right. They will not harm you. It is over,” he comforted as he rocked her.
“B-but, you were dead. I swear –”
He removed his robe and revealed his back, now covered with puncture wounds fading into scars.
Relieved, Jerna threw her arms around him.
After being held and rocked in comfort, he finally asked, “How do you feel?”
“I feel –” she stopped and noticed her leg felt different, there was no pain or burdensome weight. She looked at her leg and lifted it. Slowly, she stood up, her eyes still staring at her leg. It was not grey and dying, but healthy with its natural colour. She turned to him in disbelief.
“I’m healed!” she whispered.
He smiled as they embraced each other.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

“Mother, Jerna came back!” one of Jerna’s brothers told her dying mother. Jerna entered the house with the man.
“Mother,” Jerna approached the bed, taking her mother’s hand she told her, “I found the cure!”
Her mother turned to her, her eyes staring at her daughter sadly. “Child, you don’t believe in those fairy tales, do you?”
“What are you talking about? There was a cure to the disease. All you need to do is receive the water of life –”
“There is no such thing, child!”
“Mother?”
“Why do you believe in such tales that your superstitious grandmother told you? You are just like many of those dreamers who thought they could find the cure. Those people never came back!”
“But I did, Mother! There is hope. Immanu is with me.”
“Immanu? Don’t be foolish! He is just a myth.”
“But I met him! He is right here with me! Can’t you see him? He is in this room with me –” Jerna stopped as she noticed something. “Mother, is something wrong with your eyes?”
“What are you talking about? My eyes are fine! I can see that you are right beside me.”
Jerna swallowed. “Who else is in the room?” she asked.
“Just you, I could tell by your presence. Your brother left the room momentarily.”
Jerna turned to Immanu who had come with her. He approached her and stood behind Jerna.
“Mother, don’t you want to get well?” Jerna begged.
“Child, how many times have I told you? There is no hope for me?”
“But there is!” Jerna wanted to shake her mother. She wanted Immanu to help her mother see. She wanted her mother to see what he had done for her, but knew it was up to her mother to accept this gift.
That night, Jerna’s mother died. Jerna sat beside her and held her hand.

The mourners had left Jerna’s home after her mother’s burial the next morning. Jerna sat outside her home with Immanu beside her.
“Please forgive my mother,” she told him softly, “She was stubborn and proud.”
He reached over and pulled her close, letting her lean against him.
“I understand,” he replied, comforting her with his presence.
“What do you plan to do?”
“I will visit other towns. There are many who still need me. I will bring my life to them so they could also live.”
“Can I come with you?” she asked, holding his hand.

“I was hoping you would ask.”

The Coinbearer - Chapter 2


Jerna had a dream. She was very small and her grandmother was still alive. They were sitting near the fire.
“When the chief god left his people, they thought that he had left them to die. Because of this, they felt that there was no purpose to live. They also believe that the chief god sent the disease as punishment. So, in hope to appease him sacrifices were made by letting animals run into the desert. However, there was another story that was not known to many people.”
Just when her grandmother was about to give the second story, Jerna woke up. She closed her hand over the coin around her neck. It felt heavier than it usually was. She sat up and looked at her surroundings. She remembered that she was in a cave she had found just outside the desert the night before. She opened her pack for some breakfast. She ate chewing each small bite carefully so she could taste every last morsel. She took a sip of water from her water skin. For a moment, she stared at the ground before her.
Without any weapons Jerna had come on this quest alone, bringing with her only a pack of supplies and a staff. Her cloak was not tattered from her escapes from dangers. Many times, she had faced dangers from wild animals and was lucky to have escaped them. She felt it was a miracle that she saved from the brood of flesh-eating beetles. However, the question remained of why she did not see her rescuer.
Her grandmother’s tale returned to her, “One day, the chief god, who had not communicated with his people for ages, came down and mingled amongst the people. He lived among them and learned their ways. Seeing the affects of the disease, the god had the people send him into the desert. He stayed in the desert and was not seen for days. Then one day, he returned covered in scars. The people wondered how he survived, for no one ever returned from the desert. The god gave water to his people and whoever drank this water lived.”
If that water is the cure, then I must find it. Jerna put her water away and shouldered her pack. Time to go.
Jerna walked until she came to the edge of the most unusual sight she had ever seen. It was a forest full of thick tall trees, some as wide as a house covered in moss. In fact, the entire forest was covered with moss, from the trees to the ground. Jerna wondered if she would turn green herself if she entered it. Perhaps the water of life could be found here, Jerna took her first step into the mysterious place. Though it was still day, the light streaming through the tree boughs gave the place an ominous feel. Jerna walked soundlessly on the thick carpet of moss as she cautiously stepped over tree roots and small plants. She came to a clearing where there was a lake surrounded by trees. She studied the waters. The water was clean and transparent revealing the lake floor. She tasted the water, it was sweet. Bringing out her now empty water skin, she filled it. Once the skin was full, she decided to rest before continuing her journey, so she spread her cloak and lay down. She smelled the sweet damp scent of moss as her mind drifted into sleep.
“The forest of illusions is a dangerous place,” Jerna heard her grandmother warn in her dream. “One may think that it is safe, for it appears very welcoming to those from the desert. However, the place is deadly and alive with evil spirits. The trees are not trees at all, but another form of demons that lure you into their trap with their sweet scents and flavours from their branches. One taste of their fruit can slowly poison you that you are not aware of it until you die. The lake is the place you must stay away from most of all; in it lives a creature that will pull you into its depths. Once you are pulled in you will be devoured.”
Then, Jerna dreamt she felt herself standing not far from the lake. Remembering her grandmother’s words, she turned to run, but could not move. She looked down and saw her feet embedded in the ground and covered in moss. She looked up and saw branches waving in the air like tentacles of a giant octopus, reaching out to her. She woke up screaming and found herself in water with something around her leg.
Jerna looked before her. Her eyes grew in terror. Before her was a giant black mound with black tentacles, one of them had a firm grip on her leg. Two slits appeared on the mound revealing a pair of glowing yellow eyes. Jerna screamed clawing the ground away from the creature, but the thing dragged her as it held her ankle fast. Water closed over her head. She looked down and saw its depths. She fought and thrashed in the water trying to break free. Her lung ached at the lack of air, she gasped inhaling water. Pain stung her nose and throat as water filled her lungs. Scenes of her life flashed by: her mother in bed, her grandmother, her brothers and sisters. Mother, I am sorry, she said in her heart.
Just then something grasped her arm and pulled her upwards. Jerna felt herself violently cough water; her lungs received sweet air! She looked up at her rescuer and saw a pair of gentle blue-grey eyes. Her vision blurred as she squinted trying to see the stranger’s features hidden under a deep hood. She saw black, brown, and green tendrils fly towards her. The stranger wrapped his cloak securely around her and said a word. As if they touched fire, the tendrils immediately retreated. Darkness enveloped Jerna’s sight.

Jerna woke up with a cloak wrapped around her. The cloak was of tightly woven cotton warm and soft to the touch. Seeing movement not far from where she was, she sat up. She gasped as pain shot through her leg and thigh.
“You should rest,” suggested her rescuer as he knelt before her.
He was broad shouldered wearing the garb of desert people – a long sleeved tunic and baggy trousers, around his waist an intricately braided belt of five colours. His coal black hair was long and tight coils that fell past his shoulders, giving him a wild look; yet his beard was neatly trimmed accentuating his lean chiseled features. His skin was earthen brown, possibly from the sun. His eyes were blue-grey like the clear desert sky.
“You have tzuim,” the man explained.
“Tzuim?”
He pulled back the cloak to show Jerna her ankle. The bandage became loose, exposing greying skin, much like her mother’s condition – the advanced stage of the disease.
“A disease that not only attacks the body, but also kills the spirit.”
“How did I get it?” she wondered aloud.
“It was with you from birth, you just did not realize it.”
“Will I be able to walk?” She was hoping the disease was not severe.
He looked at her for a moment. “That depends.”
“What do you mean?”
“The disease attacked your nerves on your leg, you will not be able to walk on your own.”
Jerna did not like what she was hearing.
“But I must!” she objected, “My mother, our people – there are those who are dying! I need to find the cure.”
The man with the eyes of skies looked at her.
“You cannot walk on your own,” he told her sincerely. “As for the cure, I will bring it to you, if –” Jerna listened. “If you will take me with you on this journey.”
“And if I don’t want to?”
“Then you will not survive.”
“I suppose I have no choice.”
The man said nothing as he added wood to a crackling fire. As Jerna watched the fire, her mind recalled distantly the mysterious tale her grandmother told her.
“After the god saved the people…he left them, with a promise that he will watch over them…. The god at first did not have a name, but he was later given one…”
Jerna close her hand over the coin pendant, feeling the metal surface rubbed smooth over the numerous times she had held it in her hand.
Grandmother, what were you trying to tell me?
She lay back on the ground and closed her eyes, hoping that the pain in her leg would go away.

The Coinbearer - Chapter 1


Jerna panted as she dragged her injured leg across the desert sand. A few more paces, she told herself, a few more paces and there will be shelter. From under her hood she peered at the cracked cistern located about five meters away. The desert sky stretched above her grey with promises of a sandstorm. Using her staff to pull her closer to her destination, Jerna tried to ignore her throbbing foot. Wind began to pick up sand as she concentrated on the cistern.
Finally reaching the cistern, she peered inside to see if any desert creatures had fallen in. Seeing none, she produced a rope from her pack and securely tied one end around a metal support that protruded from the cistern wall. With great caution, she lowered herself into the cistern and waited for the storm to pass.
In the dim light, Jerna examined the wound on her ankle. The skin was torn and broken from one of the briers. Although the wound was not contaminated, she wondered why there was so much pain. Opening her water skin, she allowed a thin trickle to wash her wound. Applying the stopper to her water skin, she hoped that there was an oasis nearby; however, doubt crept in as she recalled that there was no promise of water in this desert. Many years ago, the desert was once a lush place full of greenery, trees, and fresh water. Now it was a place of death where outcasts were taken and animal sacrifices were made to the gods, and unwanted children were abandoned.
She brought out some clean linen strips she had packed in case of injuries.
“Long, long ago, when the people were at peace with the chief god, the land was rich with greenery.” Jerna heard the familiar voice of her grandmother as she bound her foot. “However, when the people began to kill each other for the land and its riches, diseases swept through the land killing everything. The people called to the chief god, but he would not answer, for he had cut himself off from the moment they committed the crimes. Then one day, they heard a song. They did not know where it came from, but believed that the wind had brought it. This song soothed the pains and strengthened those weakened from the disease. In this song was a message that said to seek the cure and bring hope to the ill and dying. The people did not know what to do, for they know not where to find this cure or hope. Then an old man had a dream saying that someone must find this cure.”
Jerna reached under the collar of her tunic and pulled out a pendant. The pendant was a silver coin with a hole at its centre, hanging by a leather cord. Her grandmother had given it to her when she was small. She tried to remember why, but could not. Her mother, who did not believe in any god, detested the ornament. She told Jerna that wearing the coin was detestable as well as humiliating, for it reminded her of the very coins that people placed on their sacrifices and unwanted children. Many times, Jerna’s mother tried to get rid of it, but Jerna kept it safely hidden under her tunic, for it was a gift from her grandmother just before she passed away.
Jerna respected her mother as much as she loved her. Her mother was proud, believing if people worked hard they will reap the fruits of their labour, only laziness would bring ruin. Her mother did everything in the house from cooking to cleaning, making clothes for her children to bargaining for staples. However, that all changed once the disease struck her mother. Her legs weakened later crippling her with pain invading her limbs. Because of this, while their mother confined to her bed, Jerna with her brothers and sisters had to support each other.
Then one day, while she prepared supper, Jerna heard someone call her name. It was not a voice she recognized, but one she understood. Many times, it called her until she finally had to go.
“Go where?” her mother demanded.
“I don’t know. All I know is that I need to find out who is calling me. Perhaps it will help me find the cure.”
Her mother laughed at Jerna’s response. “Find the cure!” she scoffed. “There is no cure for this disease! Besides, you have heard that those who have gone to find the cure have never returned – not even the strongest among them.”
“I am going to try and find it, Mother,” Jerna told her firmly. That was the last time she spoke to her mother, for she felt that if she stayed to argue she would not be able to leave.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Jerna woke up amid silence, realizing that she had slept through the storm. She brought out her small lantern and lit it. In the light, she examined her wound. The bleeding had stopped. The pain too had subsided. With some clean strips of cloth and a bit of water she washed her wound and bound it securely again. She opened her pack and began to eat her meagre meal of flat bread and jerky.
“The desert is a dangerous place,” she recalled her grandmother telling her. “They say that demons roam this land. If demons roam this land, then their servants live off the desert.”
Jerna shuddered at the thought. She had heard of tales of demons that tried to kill light or whatever they find in their territory. She swallowed a mouthful of water from her water skin to help her dry bread go down. I wonder if I will be safe here?
“The demons mark their territory by creating a circle of sand. When you are in a desert make sure you do not stay in their circle for that is where they will hunt.” Jerna remembered grandmother’s advice.
Then I should leave, she began to pack her things, sensing that she should not stay there too long. As she climbed up the rope, she peered over the mouth of the cistern and saw something that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand.
The sand dunes glowed silver in the moonlight as she saw a ridge of sand encircling the cistern, its diameter as wide as a city. Jerna bit her lips in dread as she stared at the circle. How is one to escape from here? Jerna felt weak already, for she knew that with her injured ankle she could not travel far or quickly.
As she tried to devise a way to leave the circle she heard a strange tapping sound. She turned towards the sound and saw giant white beetles, the size of cats, crawling towards her. Realizing that they were attracted to the lantern, she flung it far away. The lantern shattered. The beetles scurried towards the fire. The moment they surrounded the fire, these creatures began to link head to tail with each other forming centipedes. Rearing their heads, they attacked the flames. Seeing her opportunity, Jerna climbed out of the cistern when she saw something slithered not far from where she was. A desert lizard sped past the beetles as if to flee the creatures’ hunting grounds. The beetles surrounded the lizard, forming the centipedes again, and devouring it with sickening sounds. Jerna wanted to scream but covered her mouth and swallowed her cries, knowing that she would be next if she made a sound. These creatures could see and sense their prey! She felt like crying. What have I gotten myself into? She wept silently to herself. As she bit her bottom lip to keep down her sobs, she looked up and saw herself surrounded by beetles.
Oh, gods! she cried out in her heart, Oh, gods! Help me! She stood rooted to the spot and too horrified to scream. Centipedes reared back, preparing to strike.
“Immanu! Save me!” Jerna cried out a name her grandmother had once mentioned.
The centipedes flew towards her and struck the cistern, shattering it into pieces. Jerna suddenly felt herself fly as she watched the giant creatures chewing digging at the rubble. She stared at the scene in fascination as she felt herself carried farther and farther away from it. Am I flying? she wondered as she saw the scenery retreating below her. She then realized she was being carried – but by whom? Was this the answer from the gods? Yet, if the one carrying her was a god, then what was he doing in a place where demons roam? Many questions passed through her mind until she decided she could not trust this being, for he could be an enemy.
“Let go,” she said, her voice shaking.
The being did not respond.

“Let me go!” Jerna cried out, and felt herself tumble to the ground uninjured. She sat up and looked around. No one was in sight. She was outside the demon territories. Slowly she stood up, assuring herself she was safe for now. Why had she demanded the being to let go of her when he could have been a friend? Surely an enemy would not rescue her from danger. As more questions went through her mind, she felt for her pack and found that she still had it with her. She still had far to go. She limped away.

The Confessions of a Late Bloomer—Episode 2: About Reading Books (and Two Languages)

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