Fabulamundi Music

12 - A Short Novel (by Ottelien Belzer)

12 - A short novel (first draft) Chapters The Dream The First Meeting The Second Meeting The Child The Legend The Downfall The Lord The Lady (unfinished) The Sunken City (unfinished) The Death The Ashes (unfinished) The Final Beginning 1 - The Dream This story is not about the beginning. It is about the end. The ending of a world that is now forgotten. Obsolete. Never to return. After the volcano's turned this world to ashes, everything changed. Where cities were destroyed and had changed into minefields of smoke, where crops died in the glowing flames, where houses died into the heavens. That is where my story begins. Our old world had vanished. As if the gods had told us that we had been too vain, too arrogant to believe that we could keep building this world around us. For, once one reaches the gateway of perfection, one must fall. One must be absolute in accepting the fate that the gods have created. And it was merciless. We had all fallen into sudden darkness, without hope giving us a slight chance to believe we could ever be the same again. Where my story began, there were no real cities. At least not in the greatest sense of the word. There were no solid societies that seemed to thrive or have any chance of living in freedom. Nomads astray, packs hunting together, humans slaughtered for the sake of survival. Nothing in this world exists that i have not seen already. My eyes hurt in the silence that is now so cunning, all around me. The ending was inevitable, and living in a world where everything changes, while you remain the same, is not an easy task. To just exist, while waiting, is not an easy task. Those who live to save the world, to lift the burden from the strongest of shoulders. They take away the burden. And they give it to the world to bear. She had already fallen asleep. They would not wake her until morning. She knew she was asleep as it happened. That is why it had felt so real. The tunnel took her, like a beam of sunlight that would haunt her still. For, during these dark days, there were many ghosts that she feared. She feared the light. She feared joy. “Come find me, Damaris.” The voice spoke in a soft whisper, while she could still hear it as if it the words had been spoken into her ear. “Damaris. Just a little further.” This could not happen. She could not go on. She felt as if a strong wind was blowing against her mouth and she had to gasp for breath. “Damaris..” The wind had gone. She was in a white place. If she would call it a place. For it did not have an end. Nor did she know where the beginning was. An even whiter shape belonged to the voice she had heard inside herself. Inside her very self. “Do not be afraid, my love. My darling.” It was love. Yet she did not understand how it could have been love, for she had no recollection of ever feeling this kind of love around her during her short life beneath the white space. Outside the white space. Where had she come from? “You are here now, that is all that matters.” The white smiled. She would call it “the white”, since she had no name for what she saw right there and then. “Let go of fears, for they will not help you now. They will only hold you back.” The white was close now, so close, she could almost touch it. “Your fears are not real, my love. They are only in your mind. And the mind is such a complicated maze, that it is easy for fear to get lost in it.” The white was right. It was right about everything. She knew that. How could anything she thought, felt, knew.. How could anything matter in the presence of such a being, that was maybe not even a being? “Let go, Damaris.” The voice was strict now. So she listened. She had learned obedience from her mother. She let go. The white took her hand. She did not feel it on her skin, or what she thought was her skin, but on the energy that came from a place where her right hand used to be. “I have to prepare you. But I am wary of that, since I know how the mind of humans works.” She wanted to speak. She did not know, then, if she would have a voice. “I am strong.” She had said it aloud. The white smiled again. “I know, Damaris. I know.” And they walked - did they walk? - into a wide space. With open doors. “Let me explain.” The white was going to tell her then, why she was here. “There is a task, my love. I cannot tell you, but the leaders will. I have to ask you, to be strong. Be the strong girl you used to be, like back in the days where you would play with the wolves in the back garden. Be fearless, just like then.” She nodded. “Be like a child now. Remember that child, and keep that resilience.” “I shall,” she whispered. “Then we shall go. And I will be with you. During every step.” He still held her hand as they walked on into the greater space. Even bigger than the wide space. And she saw it. Then and there. The temple. As if she had known it, all along, that it would be there. Waiting for them. She knew they must have been the elders. There was no other reasonable explanation for the goosebumps she felt all through her being. Through her existence. As if everything had suddenly fallen into this big place. The place where no memories, but only conclusions haunted her. As if they were telling her something. They were telling her to listen to these peculiar but strangely familiar creatures of the temple. “Come forward, my child.” It was the creature in the middle. Now that she had heard its voice, she heard the beauty in it. The true beauty that could only belong to something so old, it had forsaken all its faults. She stepped towards it, and it smiled at her. “Have no fear, my child.” It was the one on the right. “You are here, because we must tell you something. And you must listen. For it concerns so much it should never be forgotten. Not in a million years.” Hush, she sang to her heart. Hush now, no fear. No fears, so now: hush. But it was too late. She had known about this outcome. The fear of talking to these creatures. The fear of everything that was surrounding her. The fear of this place that would change her existence forever. It had been as if she had felt it coming from the beginning. Like an axe that after a long trial and excruciating rituals would finally give her neck the final blow and finish her execution. Like she had seen the axe coming. She just had not thought of the final blow too thoroughly. That was all. “There is a task. It must be done, for no one has done so until now.” “Why me?” She said. She was too quick with her despair. The creature smiled. “Why not you?” She did not know an answer to this. All answers had faded now. So she just listened. “You will meet a stranger, a druid and a wise woman. You will recognize them as if you have known them from a past existence. You will know.” The white held me now, trying to comfort me. “Then you will set out. For you and your companions will know you have to. It is the only chance of survival for all the others to survive in your world. So you will have to.” Damaris was calmer now. “So what do we have to do?” “You will know. All that you know now, is enough. But you will know.” She shook her head slowly. “But how will we know?” The creatures laughed. “How. That is always the question. And an answer all the same.” She did not understand. The creature seemed to realize that. “We will send you all that you need.” He looked at her, kindly and warm. “We have not chosen you for nothing. We know, that you have everything you need. And when you do not know where to go, or what to do, all the advice I can give you is to do. For you always have done, just what was right. And humans do not change.” The other made noises in agreement. “Trust me, we know.” “You know?” Damaris asked. “Yes, my child,” the creature nodded again. “We know.” 2 - The First Meeting As he walked, he saw the orange light reflecting off the sand as if it was guiding him. Guiding him to a journey north, or at least what he thought north was. He did not know this place well, for he had come here without a memory. He did not remember the trees, or the sand, or the rocks. Though some rocks seemed to want to help him. He almost heard them speak in their signs. Even though he had not met a living soul, he knew there must be people, or creatures, nearby. He was not alone. How he knew, he did not quite understand. How could he read signs, while all this time he did not even know his own name. But he did know that he should be able to remember. The mind was a mysterious thing. Where had he heard that phrase before? Was it a phrase? Or was it something people said? How did he know people should say anything? Now he was confused again. The fear had disappeared, though. He did not know anything. If only he could know something. And there it was. A rock. With an assembly of numbers on it. How he knew it were numbers he did not understand. But he did not dwell on it too long. Now he saw something he recognised. Something that could maybe tell him what the hell he was doing in this lonely place. He stared at the equation long and hard. It was something he remembered, vaguely. The only thing it told him, clearly, was to fight. Fight and persevere. But how could he? How could he fight when all the while he had no clue as to where he was or what he was doing here? She saw the man from a distance. The moment she had seen him, she froze. She hadn’t anticipated meeting anyone today. But maybe he was not there because he had planned it. Perhaps he had gone astray. She walked, slowly, until she could see his face. He had not looked up. He was staring at the large rock that was lying in front of the high wall. He was studying it. Strange. A stranger, undertaking strange things. She had to be careful. She walked sideways for a while until she could see the thing he was staring at. It looked like an old rune, like the ones her mother had shown her when she was little. “Secrets”, her mother had said. The man was moaning loudly now. A peculiar thing to be doing while staring at a rune. Then he yelled, loudly. “Tell me what it is you are trying to tell me?!” He sank to his knees and dropped his palms on the sand. He moaned again. “Just tell me,” he whispered now. She took one step forward. Too loudly. The stranger looked up, startled. He scrambled to his feet and squared his shoulder, ready to defend. He did not strike. He couldn’t have done so either way, for he was unarmed. He was just staring at her. She stared back, as if expecting him to come forward. Do something. Anything. But he did not. He just stared at her, just as he had been staring at the rune earlier, as if waiting for it to tell him something. Somehow she knew he would not come forward. So she did. While she was walking towards the stranger, with his long matted hair and rough beard, she noticed his eyes. The deepest blue. It was like she was staring into a dark ocean. Or at least, how she remembered an ocean to look like when it was night time. She didn’t recall ever having seen the ocean in any human being, or creature. “What is your name, stranger?” Her question seemed to startle him. As if he was trying to remember something. He took a step backwards. “Don’t..” She said. “Don’t be scared, please.” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Who are you?”. His voice sounded rough, like an unsharpened stone that had the potential to become sharp. She bent her knees slightly. “My name is Damaris.” He looked at the golden creature, with her bright eyes, as bright as if they were also golden. He had never seen anything so beautiful. Although he did not remember, so maybe he had seen more beautiful things. “Where am I?” He asked her. She stared. Then she smiled softly, as if trying to comfort him. “You are in the desert. Near the Ridge.” “The Ridge?” he asked, not quite understanding her. “Yes. The Ridge.” “Right,” he said. He did not know what that meant. “So, I am in..” She narrowed her eyes, probably wondering whether he was barking. “The desert of Etheric,” she said. This did not explain much for him. He nodded and looked down at his feet as to avoid her eyes. “Right. And that is in?” He heard her chuckle softly. “You really do not know anything, do you Stranger?” “No.” He shuffled with his feet, uncomfortable. “So I am in..” “You are in Cambrianos.” “Right,” He decided to accept this answer as self-explanatory. “Thank you.” “So what is you name?” the golden woman asked. He looked up, trying not to meet her eyes. “I don’t know,” he said softly. Her eyes widened. “You do not know? How can you not know your own name?” “I don’t know.” “You don’t even know that?” “No,” he said more loudly now. “I don’t know where I am, I don’t know who you..” “I am Damaris,” she interrupted. “Right.” His anger was rising. She was the first person or creature he had met ever since he had been dropped here. He wanted to scream and shout at her, even though he knew she was only trying to be kind to him. “You are angry,” she said. It was not a question. “No. Yes. I don’t know.” “You don’t know?” she asked, her eyes amused now. So she was mocking him now. He exploded. “No I don’t know! I don’t know what I think, what I feel. I don’t know who I am and where I come from, I don’t know who I should be or where I should be going. I don’t know how I got here, this bloody awful place. This desert. I don’t know shit, and you are not helping by standing there mocking me for it!” Her smile faded slightly. “You speak with a strange tongue.” “So do you,” he sneered. She raised her perfectly arched eyebrows. “You do not need to take that tone with me, stranger. I was only observing and sharing my thoughts with you freely.” She squared her shoulders, as if defensive. Even more defensive than she already was. “But if you are not pleased by my presence, I shall take my leave and leave you here with your,” she paused, as if to emphasize her disdain, “runes.” “No,” he said loudly. “I don’t want you to leave me here. I mean..” He hesitated. It was very strange how familiar she felt already. And he had actually yelled at her. He made a mental note not to do that again if he wanted to find some people to be around in this strange place. “I don’t want to be alone.” She was smiling again. “Well, that is very good to hear, for I need you to come with me. There is something I have to do. I do not know what, for certain. But I do know that I need you, Stranger, to help me do it.” He looked at her, thoughtfully. Her eyes were bright, as she looked up at him. Waiting. Anticipating. “All right, Golden Damaris, I’ll come with you.” She had a serious look in her eyes now, somewhat endearing. “So you shall be my protector?” He laughed. It almost sounded like a bark. “Yes, all right. I’ll be your protector, for what it’s worth.” “It is worth a lot, Stranger.” “Okay then,” he said softly. “Let’s go.” “Let us go.” 3 - The Second Meeting As Okares was waiting, his legs folded and his eyes closed, Izebel decided to take a walk into the forest. Okares had been sure the strangers would find them, but he had not said how. So she knew that she could easily take a walk since her intuition told her it was right. Why worry, she thought. The fear of what lay ahead was worrisome. She had never truly feared anything. Most situations could easily be explained by common sense and intuition. But this time. This time she did not know. The unknowingness scared her. It made her knees go soft and made her want to lie down on the grass and stare at the darkening skies. Okares was truly never afraid. He was wiser than most men, and knew it did not give him anything in return. “Fear is folly,” he would say. “It is the only thing beasts have figured out before us. Do not be afraid of what is far away. For it makes no sense. Us with cognitive brains are the only creatures alive that can make themselves fear what lies ahead.” He was right, off course. But she could not help but feel the weakness in her body. The time had come to act. Years she had studied the skies, the old stories of the old world, the legends, the myths. Now she was a part of history but she did not know if she wanted any part in it. That was the thing, once it came upon acting, she was afraid. “Coward,” she muttered to herself. As the word came out she felt even weaker. She had to sit down now, so she did. The view was haunting, yet beautiful. The skies were darkening and all there was left was silence. Silence in becoming what one has to become. Some kind of savoir. Nevertheless, she was excited as well. She should be. For she and the others were the only ones who could save this place. The place that she called home. Then, behind the trees, she saw two small figures. They were walking towards her. Her heart leapt and, somehow, she was not afraid anymore. She stood up and turned around to walk back towards Okares. When she reached him, after a few minutes, he looked up. She nodded, and he smiled. “Finally,” he said. She sat down next to him and stared at the fire in front of them. It had not yet died down, and it made it easier for the others to find them in the darkness. The sky was starting to become more darkblue, and the trees were rustling softly, as if in song. Then they heard them. One was light footed, the other strong. Izebel could hear it. She and Okares looked towards the sound, and then they appeared. A small, frail, young, golden haired woman, accompanied by a tall, rough looking man. An unlikely pair. The girl stopped as she saw them sitting by the fire. She seemed hesitant. The man stood still, just a few steps in front of her, as if he was her protector. “Good day, strangers,” the woman said. Izebel smiled. “Good day, strangers.” Okares was smiling, too. “Good evening. How can we assist you?” he asked politely. The girl took a couple of steps forward. “We are looking for a druid, and a wise woman.” “I see,” said Okares quietly. “Well, then you have come to the right place. For, I am a druid, and next to me a wise woman is sitting.” Izebel snorted. “Do not flatter me so, Okares.” She stared at the girl. She was quite beautiful, in an innocent way. The man looked rather forlorn, especially in the company of such a girl. His beard was rough, and his hair matted. “Please,” Izebel said. “Do sit down.” They hesitated, but after looking at each other they sat down on the other side of the fire. The girl shivered slightly. The man looked at her, took off his coat and wrapped it around his shoulders. So familiar, Izebel thought. “So, what are your names?” Okares asked. The girl looked at him, her eyes golden as well. “My name is Damaris. And this is..” she looked at the man. “Well, he does not know who he is.” She smiled now, looking slightly amused. “But he is my protector. And I call him stranger.” “I see,” Okares said once again. “Well, then let us introduce ourselves. My name is Okares, and this,” he pointed, “is Izebel.” “Very pleased to meet you,” the girl said. “So, Izebel, you are a wise woman?” “So they say, apparently,” said Izebel. “I see,” said Damaris, her lip quivering in amusement. A silence fell, in which the Stranger looked around at all of them, confused. “So,” he said. His voice was raspy, as if he had not used it for quite some time. Not surprising, Izebel thought. “Where are you from?” “I am from Earan, and Okares is from Hjaloch.” “Right,” the Stranger said. “So you were waiting for us?” the girl asked. Izebel raised her eyebrows. The girl was more observant than she made out to be. “Yes,” said Okares. “How did you know?” Damaris smiled. “Well, you did not seem so surprised to meet us here.” “That is true,” Okares said, smiling as well. “How did you know we were coming?” Damaris asked. “How did you know we were here?” Okares said. The girl fell silent, staring at him. “Exactly,” said Okares. Izebel was grinning now. When she notices the Stranger staring at her, his brow furrowed, her smile faded. “There was a prophecy,” said Izebel. “A..” the stranger seemed abashed. “A prophecy?” “Yes,” Okares said. “A prophecy about what?” “About us. About the world.” Izebel shuffled with her feet. The mud was dry and felt cool beneath her feet. “What about the world?” the Stranger asked. “It is falling apart.” When the Stranger looked confused, Okares went on. “The balance in nature has been disturbed. People have been too careless, too selfish to make sure the world that we live in is a good place to be.” “So,” the Stranger still looked confused. “What do we have to do with that?” “Everything,” said Okares, simply. The Stranger fell silent and stared at his own feet. “So,” Damaris spoke. “Where do we go?” Izebel looked at her, thinking. She did not know for certain where they were going. But she knew they had to go. “We have to find the answer,” she said. “The answer?” asked Damaris. “Yes. As to how to save this world from its downfall.” The stranger stood up now. He turned and walked into the darkness. “Give him time,” Okares said as Damaris moved to follow him. After a long silence, they could no longer hear his footsteps. Then they heard him scream. It was a cry that echoed all around the mountains. Damaris shifted, uncomfortable. Okares was staring at the fire, which was dying slowly now. They heard the Strangers footsteps again now, he was walking towards them. When he sat down next to Damaris once again, she looked at him. Tears were in her eyes. “We will be alright, Stranger.” He looked at her, then at the others. “God, let’s hope so.” 4 - The Child They were still walking. It had been days since their first meeting. The sun had made strange colours in the sky as Hagar and the others were climbing the hill. It was a hill, and yet it was not. Hagar did not know what hills were supposed to look like, only he did assume. Hills should not be gray and dusty. They should be green and fresh. How he knew this, he did not understand. It was a strange fate, that he had no recollection of how he had come to be here. Who he was. And why he was with these people. Only signs. Signs on rocks while his surroundings told him stories at the same time. He had no points of reference, and still he was able to speak. To understand. To feel. As they reached the top of the hill, the sky seemed to be falling swiftly into darkness. It went very fast, or slowly, Hagar did not know. He followed the group back down the other side of the hill. It seemed warmer here, and yet it was colder than was comfortable. He stared at the woman named Izebel. She was tall, with red hair falling in waves down her back. She was, somehow, beautiful. Still there was a sadness in her Hagar did not yet seem to be able to understand. She was slightly bitter, angry. And wise. She knew things others did not. Which gave her a power of ability to be close to the man Okares. He was shorter than her. His hair was graying and the folds in his face seemed to add a certain amount of depth in his presence. It took them a while to reach the foot of the hill, where trees grew high and steady. "Let us rest here for the night." Okares put down his bag and looked at the others. "It has become too dark to go on." Izebel nodded and looked around. "Maybe we should find.." "A more secluded place you were meaning to say?" Okares smiled as Izebel looked affronted by his accurate assumption of how her sentence would continue. "Dear Izebel. If there are dangers out there, we'd do best to see them coming." Damaris yawned. "Yes, let us sleep here. I am tired." Hagar smiled as he looked upon her angelic face. He could not remember ever having seen such a beautiful face. But then, he had trouble remembering most things. Even his name. "Hagar, you can sleep with me," Damaris said. Hagar looked up, astonished. Somehow he knew that what this light haired creature just said to him could be interpreted in many wrong ways. Izebel rolled her eyes excessively and looked at Damaris with a certain hint of dismissiveness. "Oh child, the things you say." Damaris looked at her, wide eyed. She did not look down. She was unabashed. Unashamed. "I only meant to say," Damaris spoke softly, a surprising coolness in her voice, "that i could be cold tonight. And that the stranger, as you like to call him, has no inhibitions when it comes to keeping somebody warm. Since he has no reference when it comes to our ways, or any convention what so ever." Hagar chuckled softly. "I'll be next to you tonight golden one, and if the others are affronted by our outrageous behavior, you shall have my coat." Damaris smiled. "You see, Izebel? My request was not that strange." She turned around to look for the softest spot within the clearing. Or so, Hagar assumed. "It was not a request." Izebel murmured. But only so Damaris could not hear. Damaris rummaged through her bag. A big brown sack that sounded like twinkling lights when it was moving around. Apparently not so strange, since seconds later Damaris pulled out an arrangement of bells, held together by short strands of leather. "Shall i dance you all to sleep?" Damaris asked as she lifted her left foot and hung the first set of bells around her frail ankle. "The gods help us all," Izebel said, this time loud enough for Damaris to hear. Izebel turned her gaze to the heavens a second time around. "I much prefer star gazing." Okares, however, clapped his hands once as a sign of willingness and said, "Yes, my little one. Show us what joy you can bring us with those bells. I daresay they will not increase my willingness to sleep, however." Damaris smiled again and walked towards the fire that Okares had been making during the past few minutes. "Please, sit. And be joyful about the beauty in this world. For it may all be gone the moment we wake up." Izebel did not sit at first. Hagar saw her evident reluctance to obey this small golden haired woman. This woman who was the complete opposite of all Izebel herself believed in. The complete opposed example of all she was not. Hagar felt a surge of sadness. And loss. Maybe it had been innocence. But then the bells sounded, soft. But clear in the darkened air. And sadness was gone. It was forgotten. As the bells that Damaris was operating through her feet made shining noises, she started singing softly, while moving her hips from side to side. It was not a provocative dance, it was a celebration. A celebration of beauty and trust. Hagar could feel his scepticism ebbing away. It was not an instant thing. It was gradual. Respectful. As if the thing was keeping him there on the ground, while staring at this beautiful woman. This myth that had suddenly come true. Even though he did not know the myth now, he knew he had heard it before. Like an old friend who had changed so much it was hard to recognise him. But the myth was here now. And Hagar had never experienced anything so real. The myth took him, gradually. It did not push him too fast. It waited. Until he took its hand and walked away with it. Slowly. There into the edge of darkness. Where the light would start again. And all would be beautiful. Damaris had woken with a start. She had heard the child weeping, softly. It felt like it was only seconds ago, that she had crawled into the strangers’ arms. Her hands entangled with his hair, for she had known he would never know that his warm breath on her skin made her feel like she was little again, jumpy and dizzy, as if she had been running too fast and spun around for too long. But now she was awake. And she was not the child anymore. The child was out there. In the wilderness. She jumped up and looked around her. The sound came from the left. She heard this despite the child being far away. Hagar had awoken. "What is wrong, golden?" his voice sounded husky with sleep in it. She did not let this distract her from her purpose however. "A child," she whispered. "Can you not hear it weeping?" Hagar looked alarmed. "A child? Weeping?" He hesitated. "Maybe you are just tired." "No!" she said, louder now. It was loud enough to wake the others. Okares was instantly alert, as was the redhead. They both stood up and looked at her, questioningly. “What is wrong, my child?” Okares spoke. "A child. In the darkness. It was weeping." The redhead stared at her, with a slightly mocking expression on her face. “Maybe you had a nightmare. Maybe the stranger wasn’t able to keep you..” “Quiet.” Okares had spoken the word softly, but he might as well have struck them all, for the effect it had. All was still, as they all listened. And then it came. The sound of a child in agony. They all froze, as Damaris stepped towards the sound. She looked at them, exasperated. “It is a child!” She could not believe the others were hesitant to act. “It needs us!” She paused. “It needs someone!” The others still looked hesitant. Damaris looked at Hagar. He walked towards her and took her hand. “Let’s stick together,” he said. Damaris pulled him with her, as the others followed. The child was still weeping. It was becoming louder, and yet it did not seem to come much closer. It was strange, for Damaris was afraid and yet had to continue. Like comforting the child was the only thing that mattered. The sound moved forward at the same pace as they did. Hagar’s hand was strong in hers, it made her feel safe, somehow. They were almost at the end of the edge of the wood, when they saw lights, dancing. The lights came from a large group of tents, behind the trees. Behind the tents, there was a large group of old buildings, clearly fallen into decay. The child was visible now, finally. Sitting on a stone with her head on her knees, her arms wrapped around herself. She was still weeping, though more silently now. Damaris let go of Hagar’s hand, and he made a sound in protest. “It’s all right,” Damaris whispered to him. Then she turned towards the child and took a couple of steps forward. “What is the matter, sweet child?” The girl stopped sobbing quite abruptly and looked up. “It’s you,” she said, as she wiped her hair out of her face. Damaris stared. As did the others. The girl was smiling now and looked at all of them, as if drinking them in. “It you! All of you!” Okares stepped forward and held up is hand. “You know us, sweet child?” The girl smiled toothily. “Yes. I know you.” She looked at Hagar. “All of you.” Silence rung hard, no sound was audible in the darkness around the light that came from the tents. “You have finally come.” Izebel walked towards the child as well. “What is it you speak of, child? How do you know us?” The child looked at her steadily. “It was as if in a dream. They said you’d come, and you have!” Damaris knelt down to be level with the child. “Who told you?” The child had stopped smiling. It was quite sudden. “What is your name?” Damaris asked. The child looked sad again now. “My name is Fauvette.” Damaris smiled at her. “What a pretty name.” “Thank you,” Fauvette said. “How did you know we were coming?” “Whom so firm, that cannot be seduced?” the child said. They all stared again, surprised. Then there came a noise from nearby. A woman stood there, tall, with long black hair rippling down both sides of her body. “Hello?” the woman cried. “Is anyone there?” The child looked around and stood up. She looked at Damaris again, and stepped towards her. Then she took her hand and whispered, “be strong.” Then the child turned and ran past the woman, towards the tents. The woman looked at the group and smiled. “Strangers! Oh, you look as if you have travelled far! Please, come forward and join us in the warmth of our tents.” Damaris felt relief and longing surging inside her. She could do with some warmth. “Who are you?” Izebel asked. The woman laughed, “oh, my lady, you may better ask, who are we not?” When no one answered, the woman continued. “We are a group of people from all corners of this world. Since there is an end coming, we’d do best to stick together.” 5 - The Legend As they walked into the tent, the woman gestured towards a corner on the right. A jester smiled at them and began to sing a song in a language Okares did not know. An unusual occurrence, as he was familiar with most languages spoken in the world. They followed the woman to the corner, where a wide collection of food was waiting for them. The light haired girl, Damaris, sat down eagerly and began to eat almost instantly. The Stranger stared at her with a certain amusement in his eyes. Izebel looked questioningly at Okares, and he nodded encouragingly. “Please,” the woman said, “eat! Be comfortable.” Okares sat down, as did Izebel. So they ate, and they drank. Sometimes Izebel stared at the food uncomfortably, as if it had done her a disservice. Damaris had soon started up an animated conversation with a woman who had taken it her duty to dance for the men in a small ensemble, asking her if she did this all day every day. “Most days,” the woman replied. “But not every day. For some days I must rest and enjoy myself.” “Do you not enjoy yourself when you’re dancing?” Damaris asked. The woman smiled. She was quite beautiful, with dark hair and copper skin. “I do, but mostly it is about the men enjoying themselves.” Okares could see dawning comprehension on Damaris’ face. She was so young. So young it was almost naive. But there was more than what met the surface. He was the only one who saw, the others were blind when it came to the golden one. The stranger, blinded by admiration and longing, Izebel, blinded by annoyance and jealousy. As women danced, Okares looked around the room more closely. Men in rags, men in golden coloured robes, women in chains and children sitting in a dark corner playing a racing game with turtles. The room was starting to become smokey, and Okares felt his attention slipping away as if it had never been there in the first place. He did not remember why he was here. His eyes drooped as the smell of honey and lavender filled his nostrils. He was in the forest again. With her. She did not realise how much it meant to him that she was with him, but he knew she cared. She had always been caring. “Look at the sun, Okares. Do you not think it has changed, somehow?” Okares had looked up past the branches, into the falling sunlight. “Yes,” he had whispered. She had taken his hand and had put it against hers, as she lifted her arm and pointed it to the sky. “Look, Okares. Can you not see?” Okares had seen. He had seen it before when she had acted upon the impulse to put her skin against his. He had seen the dancing colours on their skins. And he had seen that it was beautiful. “Why can you not smile, my love?” He did not know the answer to her question. It had taken long until he was able to answer it. “I do not smile, often, for I have not done so in many years.” “So you have just forgotten?” “Yes,” he said. “But you are my teacher. How can I be able to smile when you have taught me all that I know?” Now Okares had to smile a little. “Because you are you, and I am I. In all that that entails.” She turned now, and folded her arms while leaning on his chest. “I love you.” He looked down at her. “Kiss me.” So she did. Hours had passed until Okares realized that Izebel was no longer beside him. He had been hypnotized by the women, dancing, moving like gracious willowy creatures. The dark room filled with red smoke, as all the people inhaled its seductive fumes. He could not help but feel ashamed. Until he saw the Stranger. The Stranger had four women around him, all touching him in several ways. He seemed to be in trance. Lips were caressing his neck, like feathers in the night. Okares was reminded of her eyes in the forest again. But he knew it was not real, and he had to stay conscious. He looked over at Damaris. She sitting in a corner, her eyes closed. “Damaris!” Okares said. Her eyelids fluttered. “Damaris, wake up!” Okares said, more loudly now. She did not wake, however. “Stranger!” Okares shouted now. The Stranger opened his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he muttered. “What is wrong? What is wrong?” Okares yelled. People started to look at him, abashed. “Izebel is missing! And Damaris refuses to wake up!” The Stranger looked over at her, and grabbed her arm. “Golden one,” he whispered. “Damaris. Wake up.” She did not. It was a house near the trees. It was so beautiful she almost cried. The child came running towards the creek. When she stood still the child did as well. “Fauvette,” Damaris said. The child smiled. “Why are you here, my darling?” Damaris asked. The child looked at her, in amazement. “You do not know?” Damaris hesitated. “No, darling. I do not.” Fauvette had tears in her eyes now. “Can you not remember?” “Remember what?” “The future,” Fauvette whispered. Damaris wanted to hold the child, she wanted to comfort her. But she did not know how. “Tell me, Fauvette. Tell me what I should remember.” “Me,” Fauvette said, her eyes serious. Damaris did not know what to think of this. She kneeled down on the grass. “Come here,” she said. Fauvette walked towards her, hesitantly. “Tell me all I should know.” Fauvette sat down on her lap and looked at Damaris’ fingers that were entangling themselves with little white flowers between the green. “You should know, there is light.” “Off course I know there is light, Fauvette. There is always light.” “Yes,” the child said. “But you need to know for certain.” “All right,” Damaris nodded. “I shall know for certain then.” “Good.” They were silent for some time. The scent of green was surrounding them. A scent Damaris had almost forgotten now. It reminded her of him. As if he was there with her. “You need to be brave,” Fauvette spoke. “You need to know that everything ends. And where there is an end, there is also a beginning.” Damaris stared at her. “What do you mean?” “I mean, that everything will be all right. Even after all the darkness, you can start over yet again.” “Will you be there?” Damaris asked. “Yes,” Fauvette smiled. “I will.” “We need to find Izebel,” Okares said. The Stranger was following him, Damaris lay asleep over his shoulder. He was strong. “We need to find Izebel,” Okares said again. He could not think straight without her here. It was a strange thing. “I think we’re being followed,” the Stranger said, fear in his voice. They walked into a great hall, and walked on until they could see a doorway where there was light. “How do you know where we’re going?” the Stranger asked. “I just know,” Okares said simply. He knew that whenever Izebel entered a place where there was some form of civilization, she tented to search for answers. Meaning, if she was not around people, she would find answers elsewhere. “We need to find the library,” Okares said now. Behind them they heard a noise. They turned, and saw that the jester had been following them all along. He was humming happily, and sounded as if he was truly enjoying himself. “Where are you running to?” the jester asked in his sneering voice. “What’s it to you?” the Stranger said, defiantly. “Oh run you may, but the redhead is away,” the jester chanted. “All you will find, is broken bones left behind.” Okares turned his back on the jester and walked on, as the Stranger followed. “The grumpy men want to play, even when the redhead is away. And away she will rot, or in the fire nice and hot.” As the Stranger punched the jester, using his free arm, they started running. The jester was still howling in pain as they reached a large courtyard, with another high building at the edge. “There,” said Okares softly. He had to be careful. There were dangers nearby, he could feel it. “Izebel?” he whispered. There was a rummaging sound nearby, behind the open door of the large building. Lights were starting to dance on the walls now. Someone was walking towards them. It was Izebel. Okares recognized her footsteps. The Stranger, however, looked anticipating. Afraid. “It’s all right, Stranger. It is Izebel.” As he said it Izebel came walking out the door, a large book in her arms. “Okares,” she said. “Izebel, please do not wander off without telling us. We were worried.” “I am sorry, but I had to leave. Those lights and scents were making me feel weak.” The Stranger nodded. Damaris was still unconscious, hanging over his shoulder, her hair almost reaching the ground it was so long. “What happened to her?” Izebel asked, her eyebrows raised. “She didn’t wake up when we tried,” the Stranger said. “I see.” Izebel looked as if she was fighting back a smile. “So,” Okares was looking at Izebel intently. “What did you find?” Izebel looked around, seeing if anyone was near them. “I cannot tell you here.” “All right.” “Let us find a secluded place. There is a door on the left, we can escape.” The Stranger laughed. “It wasn’t as if they were holding us hostage, now was it?” Izebel narrowed her eyes. “Then why did you all take hours to wake up?” “We just fell asleep,” the Stranged muttered. “Yes,” Izebel said. “And apparently you are not so sensitive about seduction, so you woke up.” She looked at Okares now. “We are stronger.” They all looked at Damaris. “Let us go,” Okares said. They found a small forest and a high tree where they could find shelter. They were not visible from the distance now, so they had the comfort that they could set up their camp. Izebel was still holding the book in her arms, as if she was afraid it would be taken from her if she let go of it. Once they had started a small fire, Okares sat down and looked at her. The Stranger had made a bed out of moss and ferns where he lay down Damaris. He looked at her, quite long. Okares cleared his throat. “So, Izebel. Tell us about what you found?” “All right,” she said as she finally lay down the book and seemed to relax slightly. “I shall read you the story.” She opened the book and waited for a few seconds. Then she started reading. The legend of two spirits. As this story goes, it is not complete, for others have told other stories about this story. There are always different sides, and all will question the accuracy of certain descriptions of events, if the versions are contradictory. Mystery revolves around the world that this story takes place in. A world of darkness and despair within a world where purity is discarded as redundant. It all begins with the downfall of the man Melaknus. A man without much wisdom, they say. He had greed in his heart, and longed for adventure. When he had heard rumours of a dark place where a spirit lingered beneath the rocks, he boasted to others that he would defy it and take the cave for his own. In his audaciousnous, Melaknus set off into the caves. Struggling to find his way into the darkness, he eventually found the place. The hole of Terro. As he stood there, the voice of Terro spoke to him and told him to surrender and leave the place. But Melaknus just laughed and told the spirit it was not real. The spirit’s presence rose to full power and anger surged through the cave and swept against Melaknus threatiningly. The voice spoke again, now bidding for Melaknus to leave his defiance to rest and surrender to the place. When Melaknus refused in laughter once again, Terro’s patience was at its final. So Terro called on the wind and blew Melaknus into the pit of his downfall. Melaknus yelled out defiance as he fell to his death, but it was all too late. He swore to the wind, the earth, the water and fire, to keep defying Terro into eternity and avenge his life that Terro had taken so willingly. So even in death, Melaknus kept defying the spirit of Terro. As Melaknus was a greedy spirit at heart, he terrorised the peoples living above the rocks. Using his persuasive strategies of energy, he pulled a pure spirit into his darkness every moon the elements changed. Some, he would keep in an enchanted slumber, to preserve their flesh for the stubborn and unwilling, forcing the latter to feast on the flesh of their loved and most pure ones, until they would succumb to insanity. They still dwell there, or so has been said, in the pit or Terro where Melaknus’ spirit lingers and tortures them. No one has ever returned, and still the fear for the safety of the most pure ones lives in the hearts of all people still living in the light. As Izebel had finished, Damaris moved. They all looked at her. She then started, and opened her eyes. “What has happened?” She asked, immediately. 6 - The Downfall “We have to find him.” Damaris looked at Izebel in astonishment. “Why would we go there? You just read the story, once humans trespass they do not return.” Izebel looked down at her hands. “We are different.” “How do you know this? Do you know this for certain?” “I just know, girl. I just know! Sometimes, we know things.” Damaris smiled bitterly. “And by we, you mean..?” “People such as Okares and I. Not..” “Silly little girls like me.” Damaris said with disdain in her voice, as Izebel looked at her defensively. “No, please, I understand, do not try to defend yourself, it would only make you look more ignorant.” “Ignorant?” Izebel shouted. Okares put up his hands. “Please, Izebel, stop.” Izebel folded her arms and sat back, her expression murderous. “So,” the Stranger said, obvious in wanting to break the tension. “Where are we going?” “We are going into the caves,” Izebel said, taking it as a given that it had already been decided. “Right.” The Stranger looked from one to the other. “So, we’re going to find this.. Terro guy?” “No,” Izebel said with her eyes to the heavens, as if praying for patience. “We’re going to find Melaknus’ spirit.” The Stranger stared at her. “His spirit?” “Yes,” Izebel said. “His spirit.” “Right.” The Stranger obviously did not know what he had gotten himself into. “So, er, how do you find a spirit?” “You feel it,” Izebel said simply. “Yeah. Okay.” Damaris put her hand on the Stranger’s arm. “Do not worry, you will be all right. We all will.” He looked at her, as if in pain. “Yeah. Well. I don’t know about all this abracadabra stuff. It’s all a bit weird.” “Abracadabra?” Damaris asked, surprised. “What is..” “Oh let us just get on with it,” Izebel said, impatient. “We are wasting time.” Okares nodded. “Yes.” As they started their journey into the caves, Damaris seemed to be in quite a good mood. She was chatting animatedly, and seemed to become more hopeful with every step they took. It was about an hour into the caves when she started annoying him. “So what is your name, Stranger?” “I don’t know.” “How can you not know your own name?” “We have been over this, Damaris.” “Yes, but I think everybody should know their own name.” He furrowed his brow even more. “Yeah.” “You mean, yes?” “Yes,” he murmured. “So may I name you then?” “No.” “No?” “No.” “I shall call you Hagar. It means stranger, did you know that?” “No.” “Well, I think it suits you.” “I don’t.” “Well, usually our mothers and fathers name us. But since you do not remember anything, I think you need help.” “You think I need help?” “Yes, Hagar. I do.” “Don’t call me that.” “Why not?” “I don’t like the name.” “Why do you not like the name?” “I don’t know.” “You do not even know whether you like your own name?” “It isn’t my name. You just made it up.” “No, Hagar, I named you. That is not the same as making something up.” “Yeah, it is.” “It is not.” He sighed deeply. “I don’t want you to call me Hagar.” “It is already too late.” She almost started to skip, she was so happy. Fine, he thought. If she wanted to be stubborn. But he didn’t like the name at all. He felt as if someone just stitched an extra arm on his body that he couldn’t shake off. “We are almost here,” Izebel said. As they reached another end of another tunnel, they gasped. A great hall, with marble tombs set with golden ornaments met their eyes. It was an impressive sight. Hesitantly, they walked forward. Their footsteps echoed through the large room. They heard soft whispering. Even he, Hagar, the Stranger, whoever he was, heard them. “What are they?” he asked in a shaking voice. “Spirits,” Izebel said, simply. She walked toward the door at the end. There were large axes crossed through the handles, keeping it tightly shut. She looked at Okares, who nodded. She tried to pull one of the axes loose, but it didn’t give way. The Stranger stepped forward and grabbed the axe. He pulled with all his might. It gave way, slightly. “Pleas help me, Okares.” Damaris snorted. “And Damaris, off course.” She raised her eyebrows and walked towards him. She grabbed the other end and pushed, as he pulled once more. The axe gave way completely and he dropped it on the floor. The other axe was easy to get off now. Okares grabbed the dusty door handles, and pulled. They stared into another room. It was light, for a large fire was burning in the middle of it. “What is this place,” Damaris asked quietly. “It is the pit,” Izebel said. The pit then. All right. He could deal with that. Even though his heart was beating out of his chest. He suddenly realised how stupid it all was. Why were they here? How had he gotten himself into this mess? Why did he follow Damaris anywhere, even though he had no rational explanation for it? They walked forward, until they could feel the heat of the fire. Behind the fire, right through the flames they saw a figure. It was not quite distinguishable, but clear enough to be feared in this strange place. “Who is there?” Izebel said, loudly. The sound of fluttering met their ears. “Diversion,” Okares muttered, barely audible. They heard a bang, coming from the left side of the hall. Hagar wanted to pull out his sword, but as he made the gesture, Okares stopped him by laying his hand on his. “Don’t.” They waited. There was a scattering noise coming from below their feet. Damaris shivered. “What..” Hagar started, but Okares put his finger on his lips to indicate silence. Then all noises came together, loud banging, scattering, fluttering and something else. Soms sort of whispering. “Redemption. Salvation.” The whispering voice seemed to be repeating these two words to them. And then, all of a sudden, out of nothing, all noises stopped, as at the same time the fire died down and left them in blackness. “Come,” Izebel said. She stepped forward and took Hagar’s hand, while he took Damaris’. While holding on to each other, they reached the edge of the room, where a large rock was set into the wall. Izebel reached out her hand towards it. Okares gasped. The rock crumbled into pieces, as did the floor they were standing on. And now, they were falling. “Corpses!” Damaris yelled. She tried to scramble to her feet but fell back on top of a woman with her rotting eyes wide open. Izebel was breathing fast, not quite like herself. “We need to get out,” she whispered. “We need to get out.” “Why did we come here?” Hagar said. Damaris was screaming now. Screaming, shaking, uncontrollably. In the corner they saw movement. Okares stared, the only one who was still slightly calm. “Do not move,” he whispered. They all looked round. It was a man. Or at least, Hagar thought it was. He was so gaunt, it was almost as if he had no flesh on his bones. He was holding an arm. A human arm, Hagar realized. And he was chewing it. Damaris screamed even louder. Her voice echoed through the vertical tunnel they had fallen through and seemed to last at least ten seconds. “Don’t, Damaris!” It was the first time since they had entered the cave that Okares sounded afraid. “Hagar,” he said. Hagar listened to the sound of the name that Damaris had given him. He had to, now. “Please, look after Damaris. Do not let her move, do not let her scream.” “What have we gotten ourselves into?” Izebel said. “What have we done?” Her breath was rasping. Okares walked towards her and grabbed her shoulders. “Strength, Izebel. Sanity. Do not let these caves drag you down. Strength.” She started to breathe more steadily now. “Sanity,” she whispered. They started searching for light. The corpses reeked of death, and even though they did try not to step on any of them, they were difficult to avoid. It was all grey, the world they had stepped into. It was a horrible smelling, dark place where everything that was good, had disappeared. Then Hagar looked at Damaris. Her face was smudged with dirt, her hair dirty and her eyes tearful. He walked towards her and wrapped his arms around her. She sobbed, and pressed her face against his chest. She was almost like a child, right then and there. “Don’t worry,” he said, his eyes on the gauntly man. “It’ll be alright. I promise you.” The man had not tried to approach them, and Hagar swore that if he would try, he would rip the man’s head off his shoulders. He had probably, as far as he knew, never had this feeling of wanting to protect another being so much. So much he would do anything for her. She looked up at him now, her face streaked with tears. It seemed as if she wanted to say something, but thought better of it. Even through all her despair, she seemed to restrain herself. He smiled at her and kissed her forehead. It was nothing. Nothing, compared to what he was feeling, but it was all he could muster in this dark and awful place. “Will you protect me, still?” she asked. “Always,” he said. “Did I tell you about my dream?” asked Damaris. “No, you haven’t told me.” “It was beautiful.” “Please, tell me about it,” he said. She sighed and shook slightly, as if trying to fight back another sob. “I cannot remember.” “Yes you can, love.” She looked up at his face again. Her lip were close to his. “It was a green place. With a stone house. And there was a creek.” “Tell me more.” “There was a child. And you were there.” “Really?” “Yes. Well. I believe you were. I did not see you, but..” she paused. “I felt you.” “You felt me?” “Yes.” The others were still walking around the place. Hagar could not see them clearly, however. They were almost out of earshot. His whole body was tingling because of her words, but it was also aching now. The fall had not been soft, even though it could have been worse had the bodies not been there. They would have been dead without the dead there. It was a chilling realization. Especially when he realized they all had died here. They had all been terrified of what they had found. But perhaps, he thought, or at least he hoped, they had died instantly. Of the fall or of shock. There was another noise nearby. A humming noise. It sounded like a woman trying to sing but she had forgotten how to. Then, Hagar felt a claw like hand on his arm, and he smelled the scent of rotting flesh. The woman had grabbed him. “Mmmm..” the woman murmered. “Mmmm..” He stepped backwards, Damaris still in his arms, as he tried to shake off the hand of the woman that was now trying to push herself against them. He fell backwards, as Damaris screamed again. They fell on the bodies once more. Hagar felt some of their bones crack beneath them. He tried to reach for the knife he had in his back pocket, but to no avail. He could not reach it, for he was being crushed by corpses. Then he felt Damaris pushing herself up from his chest, screaming and hitting everything in sight. The woman moaned as Damaris punched her in the stomach, and she fell back. Damaris turned around, removed the bones and one dead body that was on top of Hagar and took his hand. As she pulled him up, Izebel screamed, suddenly. Damaris started and was in Hagar’s arms once again. But it was not a hopeless scream. It was surprise, happiness. “Light!” She cried. “There is light!” 7 - The Lord They had taken refuge in a small cave for the night, overlooking a large field. The terrors of what had come to pass were too great for them to be able to continue immediately. The girl was breathing unsteadily, her face as pale as the moon. “Damaris, please, sit,” Okares said, calmly. Izebel looked at him, thinking. She had always admired his calm disposition whenever danger was near. It was something unique, the way he could transfer his calm to others. There was no reason in it. The girl sat down on a rock. Stubborn as she was, it was quite extraordinary, the way Okares had with people. Damaris was still shaking, however. The stranger had been staring at her this whole time with concern in his eyes. He sat down next to her and put his arm around her. “Calm now, golden one. It’s over now.” “I know,” the girl said with trembling voice. Her hair fell across her face as she looked at the ground. “But it was so frightening.” “Yes, Damaris,” Okares spoke, “but the Stranger is right. It is over now. There is nothing to fear right here and now.” The girl nodded. It was probably Okares’ respect for others that gave him such great influence. Give and thou shall receive, as he had said to her one day. That day seemed as though it was a lifetime away. It was, in ways Izebel did not yet quite understand. She stared at the horizon. A strange scenery, somehow. The sky was grey, with green light flowing through it. She did not know this place. It gave her shivers. There it was again. The child. As she was waiting, her long golden hair fell across her shoulders in waves. “Fauvette?” Izebel asked quietly. The child looked up. She smiled. “The Lord of the sunken city is frowning.” Izebel walked towards Fauvette, slowly, as if approaching a skittish horse. “What do you speak of, child?” Fauvette was silent for some time. “His Lady is sad. She is waiting in the tower, crying and telling stories to herself. The Lady is waiting.” “What Lady do you speak of, Fauvette?”. Izebel wondered if saying the girls name would bring some sense into her. Fauvette went on, however. “The Spirits have taken over the new city. The Spirits are there for the Lord’s heart.” Izebel stared. “His heart?” Fauvette nodded. “The army has to save the woman from her pain. The army has to fight to bring the Lord and Lady back to the sunken city. The army has to bring the spirits to the earth and make the Lords see what is of significance.” “Where is this Lord of whom you speak, child?” Fauvette looked at her, as if taking her for a fool. “He is in the sunken city.” “Yes,” Izebel said, impatiently. “But where is this place?” “You will find it. The skies will point you there.” “The skies?” “Yes,” Fauvette said. “The skies, the two next one another, waiting to be reunited.” “So,” Izebel said as if trying to make things clear, “I have to follow the gap between the two skies?” Fauvette smiled. “Yes.” “And then I shall find it?” “Yes,” the child said again. “And why should I, child?”, Izebel said impatiently. “Why should I find a Lord and Lady and why should I save them?” Fauvette’s face was serious again now. “You know.” “I know?”, Izebel said. She felt uncertain. Scared. “Yes,” Fauvette said. “You know.” Izebel woke with a start. The others had not woken yet. As she looked around, her eyes fell on the night skies. It was dark blue, with an odd hint of green in there still. As she gazed, she realized it was not just random green. It was a line. A line leading to mountains and beyond. “Wake up!” she said to the others. Damaris stirred and opened her eyes. “What is wrong, Izebel?” “I had a dream,” Izebel said. The others were stirring as well. When they had both opened their eyes, Izebel sat up. “What kind of dream?” Damaris asked. “It was..” Izebel hesitated. “I do not know. All I know is that we have to continue our journey.” As she told the others about her dream, light started on the horizon. Red and purple, beneath green and blue. It was a peculiar sight. The others agreed to continue, so they packed. There was a long day ahead, Izebel could feel it. All they had to do, to get where they had to, was to follow the gap between the skies. The walls were high. Not as high as the mountain, but high enough for them to be astonished by the greatness of it. They looked at each other. “Let us find the gates,” Okares said. “If they have any. I feel magic around this place.” Hagar looked at him in surprise. “So, what does that mean?” Okares smiled, as did Izebel. His ignorance of intuition was still staggering somehow. “It means, that there could be other ways of entering the city. Not just through objects as mundane as gates.” Hagar stared at him. “Right,” he said. “Forget I even asked.” Damaris was already walking alongside left side of the wall. Then she stopped and looked around. From the frightened look on her face Izebel gathered she had found an entrance. They walked towards her. As Izebel came nearer, she saw the outline of a spear sticking out of some kind of doorway. They all stared, and then walked towards the entrance, slowly. There was a man, sitting on a wooden stool. He looked up as they came nearer. He grabbed his spear and looked at them, defiantly. “What is your business here, strangers?” Izebel hesitated. Then stepped forward. “Goodday, sir. We would wish to speak to the Lord of this city.” “And why is that?” Izebel looked at the others. Then she smiled at the man. “We have come far, we will not let you stop us now.” The man laughed, but when he saw the look Okares was giving him, he mumbled, “right. Well, I suppose I could fetch someone to bring you to him.” As they walked through the city and over squares, people stared at them. They had been traveling for days, without changing their clothing. They had not washed this morning, as they had moved on fairly quickly after resting, so their appearance was still scarred by the events that had taken place the night before. “I feel ashamed, almost,” Damaris whispered to the Stranger. The Stanger said nothing, but took her hand in his. As they reached the doors of the greatest house in the main square, they heard a woman speaking loudly, as if giving some sort of speech. Without wording their decision, they all walked towards the voice. “Do not let your intuition take you. For it will only bring you darkness. Do not let emotion lead you on. For it will only bring you despair. Do not let feeling get in our way. For it will destroy us once again.” “So much for subtlety,” Hagar murmured. Damaris laughed. They had reached the place where the woman was standing. About a dozen people were standing around her, listening avidly. All people were dressed in black robes. Except for the woman, who was wearing a peculiar ensemble of short trousers, a small shirt that was not completely covering her stomach, and a green piece of cloth tied around her head. “Who is she,” Izebel wondered aloud. “That, my dear woman, is Karladda. My advisor.” They all turned to see a tall man standing there, also dressed in black, but with golden ornaments tied in his hair. He had a strict face. “And I, as you may wonder, am Lord Waldrik. I am the Lord of this city.” He looked from one to the other, resting his eyes on Damaris, who looked slightly unabashed. “But the main question, really, is, who are you?” “I am Damaris,” Damaris said. “And these are my friends and companions, Izebel, Okares and Hagar.” The man looked amused by the confident tone in her voice. “I see,” he said, quietly. It almost sounded dangerous. “Well, Damaris, Okares, Izebel and..” he paused. “Hagar. Why do you not join me for a drink, so you can tell me all about your adventures.” He looked them up and down now, obviously referring to their dirty and unkempt attire. As they followed him into a hall and then a long corridor, they looked at each other. Fear was creeping in now. They walked into a large room, with drawing on the walls. It was quite magnificent. A jester poored them drinks, and they sat down at a long table, Lord Waldrik at the end. “So, tell me, what is your business here, strange travelers?” Okares did the speaking. He was, after all, the wisest. “We are here to humbly request your permission to stay the night in your beautiful city.” The Lord Waldrik snorted. “And that is all you came to ask me? You must think I am a fool.” He stood up and started pacing slowly, behind his great chair. “For no one just wants to stay for the night. The only reason for which you could be here is you are either being followed, or following something.” Okares smiled serenely. “Well, of course my Lord, we are also interested in history. For instance, the tale of he sunken city.” Lord Waldrik stopped pacing. He stared at Okares, clearly taken aback. “How do you know of this?” Okares looked serious now. “I am sorry, my Lord, it was forward of me perhaps.” “Quite,” Lord Waldrik said loudly. “And what of the crying woman?” Damaris asked. Izebel looked at her, warningly. Damaris widened her eyes, and look at Lord Waldrik. “Who is she?” Lord Waldrik seemed to be lost for words now. Okares sat back and closed his eyes. “She is my wife,” Waldrik said. “You wife?” “Yes.” Lord Waldrik seemed slightly annoyed, but oddly enough, he did not seem to mind Damaris speaking so much. “Is your wife here?” “No.” Waldrik hesitated. “Well, yes. But she is not fit for company. Or,” he looked around at them all, “for strange visitors.” “But, my lord, we are not strangers anymore, truly.” Damaris said it with such a tone of innocence, Waldrik seemed to be lost for words. “Where are you from?” he asked her, almost roughly. Damaris smiled. “I, my lord, am from Etheric. And Okares is from Hjaloch, Izebel is from Earan and Hagar..” She hesitated. “Hagar is from the Ridge.” Hagar looked at Damaris thankfully. Waldrik looked from one to the other. Then he sat down once more, his face in his hands. Damaris leaned towards him slightly. She seemed to teeter on the edge of putting her hand on his, but seemed to think better of it. “We can help,” said Damaris. Waldrik snorted. “Really? You can help? How?” “That is always the question, how?” said Okares. Waldrik looked up at him, his hands over his mouth. Then he put them on the table and straightened up slightly. “You can help us?” He asked. “Of course, my lord,” said Izebel. “That is why we are here.” 8 - The Lady He took them to the tower. As they climbed the steps, they panted. Lord Waldrik had muttered to himself all the way to the tower, but now he was so out of breath he could no longer utter a word. “Another few steps,” he panted. The followed him into a short tunnel, leading to a large black door. Lord Waldrik stood still in front of it. He seemed to be unwilling to continue. “Is something wrong?” asked Okares. The Lord was silent. He was still panting slightly. They stood there for a few minutes, waiting for him to speak. He did not. He just waited. Then, suddenly, he grabbed the doorhandle and pushed. As the door creaked open, they stared into the room. There she was. The woman. Locks of gray had interviewed with her auburn hair, her clothes ragged and filthy. She looked up at them and they saw that her eyes were clear. Almost transparent. She shrieked. The sound echoed through the tunnel as they all jumped. Then the woman launched towards Lord Waldrik, shrieking more loudly still. “She is confused,” Lord Waldrik shouted over her constant screaming. “She does not know who I am.” The woman stopped her shrieking as sudden as it had begun. She looked round and started walking towards Damaris, who backed away slowly. Hagar stepped in front of her, defensively. The woman looked at him, then started laughing, quite uncontrollably. Damaris looked at Hagar, and then at the woman again. “Why are you laughing, my lady?” she asked. The woman stopped laughing. Then she walked towards them, until she was almost nose to nose with Hagar. She spit in his face. Hagar backed away, while Waldrik wrapped his arms around the woman’s waist, restraining her once more. “Calm down, my love, calm down. We mean no harm.” The woman closed her eyes, and started murmuring: “No harm. No harm.” Izebel turned towards Okares. “What can we do?” Okares straightened up and walked towards the Lady, who was now giggling again. He started to hum softly, as if to a child. It was a tune 9 - The Sunken City The city had drowned. Not slow, for it had not happened over time. It’s downfall had been swift and sudden. As it’s resurrection would be. The woman next to Okares was singing. Softly, as if in trance. It sounded like an old hymn he remembered from his old life. His old life that was now so far away. Tucked into his memory, like a child in a warm blanket. As they were walking on the paths that had taken form between the water, his heart sank. There was nothing left. How could he rebuild something that was taken away so cruelly? Seagulls were gazing at them, squeaking loudly, as if warning them not to trespass. It was their domain now. 10 - The Death The fog became clear in the morning. As the sun rose, the air felt thin between the trees. The moss was covered in white clearness, while trees seemed to float on the air. Beneath the white they had slept, but as Okares awoke and had sat up, his companions were only vaguely distinguishable. He thought to meditate, but thought different of it. It was not wise to linger on meditation in this place. Besides, he felt something was wrong. As he stood up, he realized they had not gone out for food last night. It worried him, how dead everything was around him. He decided to wake the others. It was time to move on. Damaris was already stirring. She was in Hagar’s arms. Okares walked over to Izebel and touched her shoulder gently. She opened her eyes and sat up immediately. “There is something wrong,” she said. Okares looked around. “I know, Izebel. This place is not safe for us to linger.” “No, it is not that. It is..” There was a moment of complete silence. Like silence before a blow. Then there came a scream from the ground. It was Damaris. Her scream made the hair on Okares’ arm stand up. “Hagar! Wake up! Please, Hagar, wake up!’ She was crying, and through the mist Okares could see Hagar, lying silently on the ferns. “He is not breathing! Okares! Please! He is not breathing!” Okares stood frozen. Izebel stood up and ran over to Damaris. “This is not possible..” she muttered. “Please!” Damaris yelled. “Please! Bring him back! Bring him back!” She was shaking, uncontrollably. “He cannot be.. It.. He cannot be dead!” Izebel sat, silent tears were starting to stream over her face. “Please! Please! Please!” Damaris was yelling the word, over and over again. She threw herself against Hagar’s chest and sobbed. “Please, my love.” She was whispering now. “You swore to protect me.. I cannot do without you, my love. Please, come back..” Izebel stared at Damaris. Damaris looked up into Hagar’s silent face, her lips almost against his. “Please, my darling. Do not leave me here. I cannot continue without you. Please.” Suddenly she was smiling through her tears, as if in denial. “You remember, when I told you your name? Do you remember the dream you had? About the house near the trees? You had it, too, remember? We would grow old there. You would be with me. Please, my darling, come back. I love you. Please, come back.” Okares and Izebel were both standing a few feet away now, feeling like intruders. “We should..” Izebel started, but Okares put up his hand to silence her. He gestured towards a nearby tree, out of earshot. They walked towards it and sat down with their back against the cool bark. They did not speak. They did not have words. Four hours had passed, before Damaris was capable of letting go of Hagar. He was completely cold now. Even though her body had tried, in all its might, to make him warm again. It was hopeless. She had never felt this way before. Not when her father had died. Not when her friend from Etheric had died. It was not like this. It had not been like this. It had not felt as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest and all she was able to do was whimper. She lay on the ground when the others took his body away. On the place where he had slept. The place where he had died. She should have said more. She should have made him laugh more. She should have, at least once, kissed him. But it was all too late. And there was nothing left in her heart, if she still had it, but darkness. It was surrounding her again now. The darkness, and the cold. She wanted to drown herself in it. She wanted to follow him, because she would have followed him anywhere. Just as he would have followed her. Perhaps she could die. Perhaps she could and then they would perhaps be together once more. What she would give for one more moment. Just one more moment to look into his ocean-like eyes. She could just lay here, and wait for death to take her. And then, at that moment, she heard a whisper. It was not around her. It was inside her. “There is always light,” it said. “You promised not to forget.” The whisper sounded like a child’s whisper in her head. “You need to know that everything ends. And where there is an end, there is also a beginning.” She opened her eyes. “There is always light,” the voice whispered again. She looked up. And between the branches of the trees, between the green leaves, behind the birds, she saw it. They walked on. They had buried Hagar in the woods, near a small creek. It was a beautiful place. Damaris did not want to see it. She could not. It was strange, how everything seemed to move on so quickly. How could the world still exist after what had happened? How could the world look so beautiful in its stillness, when all she wanted to do was scream? Izebel slowed down, until Damaris was levelled with her. They both stopped walking. Izebel looked at Damaris. She supposed there was some sort of peculiar in her eyes. Was it compassion? Izebel then did something Damaris would have never seen coming. She put her arms around her, and held her. There they stood for a while. Between the trees, in the silence. Damaris could not cry any more. She thought that maybe she had shed all her tears on the place where Hagar had died just mere hours ago. She looked up at Izebel, who smiled weakly. “Come, child. Let us walk towards something greater than us.” Damaris nodded. After that they walked for hours. It was unnatural to walk so far. To leave his body behind. Damaris felt numb and cold. At least she was numb now. At least she did not feel. “So, where do we go next?” Izebel asked. They had almost forgotten their purpose here. Damaris sighed. “The answer,” she said. “We are looking for the answer.” “We need to continue,” said Okares. He did not like to dwell. “Where do we go?” asked Izebel, once again. “We go east,” Okares said, simply. 11 - The Ashes She shrugged the straps off her bare shoulders. It was too hot to carry on. As she had been walking, she had seen his face. While he supposedly would have known what she was thinking, she could not help but feel alone. In the sunlight, spots danced before her eyes. Like the spots she had seen just nights before as she had been dancing by the fire. It seemed a lifetime ago. “Can you smell it?” Okares asked. He did not just ask her, it was a question for both of them. “Ashes,” Izebel said. They all looked up into the sky. There were shadows of light there, as if there was fire burning. 12 - The Final Beginning The child was running. As she was running she looked up at the green, laughing. It was not normal children’s laughter. It was laughter that could only be caused by true happiness. She knew before it happened, that it would. Her whole skin was on fire because of the memory. Because she knew it would come true. After all the rain, there it was. The sun. She stopped running as she reached the water. It was clear, as mist at dawn. The creek had changed over the years. It had been muddy at first, with water chasing sand over the rocks. But overtime it had chased the darkness away, rocks changing their colours slowly. She peered across the field, past the trees at the edge. It was there, near the horizon, that she saw it. The gold. Embraced by the green that had held the child for all these years instead of the gold. But now the green embraced what the child was longing for, and it was all joy in her heart. Fighting tears the child cried out. It was a cry she had never uttered before. Like a silver tone in the darkness that had surrounded her insides. It was all gone now. The woman was running now. For somehow she seemed to know the child was waiting behind the creek. As she came nearer and nearer, the child stood there. A grin on her face streaked with tears. The woman was crying, too it seemed. The woman had stopped running now, as she had reached the other side of the water. And there she stood, beautifully bold and golden, as if from a dream. She smiled her beautiful, somehow strangely familiar smile. She did not speak, for words were too superfluous now. She stepped into the creek, barefoot. The rocks did not seem to cut her. She was too strong, too light for them. As she reached the child, she fell onto her knees, still in silence. And finally she was holding her. The child smelled like cinnamon and salt. It was a strange recollection of memories that flooded through her. The see, the beach, the tea on the table. Finding her daughter. That’s what she had been doing. All this time. In a wave of sadness she cried for a while, as happiness took its place. “You guided us, didn’t you?” Fauvette looked up at her, and nodded. Damaris kissed her and wrapped her arms tighter around the child. Finding a place where she could weep, in the silence where the ocean had stopped, and had made its way for green and grass beneath her bare feet. Behind the trees she saw the house. It was as high as it had been in her dream. Branches of the nearby trees were stroking the walls softly.

Rahziël new sounds for "12"

Beginning of the End

Dragon's Heart

Land of the Lost

Context onderzoek

Voor de ontwikkeling van de live performance van Rahziël, is er een context-onderzoek naar symboliek in de kunstgeschiedenis. Een analyse van de resultaten:

Analyse

De symbolen die hieronder beschreven zijn hebben een directe parallel met de inhoud van mijn muziek. De steekwoorden zijn aspecten die ik gebuik, de afbeeldingen voorbeelden van hoe de symbolen in de kunstgeschiedenis gebruikt zijn en bij elk onderwerp een korte analyse van hoe ik het toe ga passen in mijn act.

Giulio Romano “Allegorie der Onsterfelijjkheid”(+/- 1520)

Ourobouros

• Slang die in eigen staart bijt
• Cyclisch tijdsbesef (hermetica/alchemie)
• Zwart/wit, ying/yang (contrast)

Hieruit kan ik de kenmerken van een terugkerend, cyclische elementen gebruiken die een wisselwerking bewekrstelligen tussen de muziek, het beeld en mijn beweging.

  

Eon

• Bewaker van poorten hiernamaals
• eeuwigheid/periode/tijdperk
• tegenstellingen leven/dood

Voor het nummer “Aeons” kan ik de symboliek gebruiken die een poort voorstellen naar een andere bestaansvorm.


Dood

• Vermogen om te regenereren
• Extatische dood
• maan: Ingang dodenrijk (Diana)
• Wezenlijke etappe naar spirituele vereffening

Dood kan staan voor een hoogtepunt, iets dat je bereikt bij een climax. In mijn stage act kan ik het sterven nabootsen bij een climax van mijn muziek, terwijl in beeld de maan te zien valt.


Androgyn

• Volkomemnheid goddelijke natuur
• Geheime kennis van het alomvattende

Terwijl ik een mannelijke verschijning ben, met een plúche jas die mij groter maakt en een patronenriem, maak ik vrouwelijke bewegingen. Hierdoor symboliseer ik in een balans van natuurlijke volkomenheid.

Leonardo da Vinci "De mens volgens Vitrivius" (+/- 1490)

Microkosmos

• Hoe lichaam/ziel terug te zien valt in de natuur
• Conjunctie elementen en oermaterie → overgang naar transcendentale dimensie van bestaan

Door met mijn lichaam tijdens de stage performance paralellen te maken met afbeeldingen van runen en elementen uit de natuur, weergeef ik de conjunctie van de mens met de natuur. Dit tijdens transcendente delen van de muziek.

Splendor Solis “Het filosifsch ei” (16e eeuw)

 Ei

• Moeder aarde
• Steen der Wijzen, mandala, ying-yang
• Homogeniteit vóór elke diffrentiatie

Door de alchemist wordt het begin (ei) en het einde (heelal) als het androgyne paar gesymboliseerd.
Het zware kostuum is een toespeling op de 'ontbinding van materie' (zie afbeelding links)
In mijn act wil ik de eenheid van alles, en het uit elkaar gaan daarvan in mijn beweging overbrengen.

Giorgio de Chirico “Metafysische compositie” ”(1914)

Metafysische kunst

"Door bepaalde voorwerpen in een onwaarschijnlijke samenhang te plaatsen wilden de metafysische schilders een soort magische droomsfeer creëren. Wat dat aangaat heeft de beweging veel gemeen met het surrealisme , zij het dat de metafysici veel meer dan de surrealisten gefixeerd waren op een strakke compositie en een lichtval zoals architecten die gebruiken om hun ontwerpen goed uit te laten komen.

Tekenachtig schilderwerk, niet geheel kloppende perspectieven, hang naar het (klassieke ) verleden, lange slagschaduwen .

Schilders raken gevoelig voor het verbeelden van sferen en stemmingen, melancholie. Men verdiept zich in filosofieën zoals die van Nietzsche. "

Gaudenzio Ferrari "Engelenconcert”” ”(+/- 1534-36)

Engel

• Antropomorfe fenix, zwaan, adelaarsymbolen van zuiverheid en spritualiteit, macht en intelligentie
• boodschapper van god
• Lucht

Gelinkt aan Rahziël, de enger der mystiek, past de symboliek van een fenix (opstaan na dood) bij een engel. Ook het verbrengen van zuiverheid dmv pure expressie te tonen op het podium met mijn gelaat.

Sandro Botticelli “Minerva en de centaurus” ”(+/- 1485)

Zoömorf

• adelaar:lucht
• overgang naar andere zijnsvorm

Het dierlijke verweven met het menselijke geeft een verheffing boven de aardse dimensie weer. Door de pluché jas die ik aan heb geef ik de indruk ook zoömorf te zijn, een ander bewustzijnsniveau te hebben dan relugier mens.








Chaos

• Hermetica: tegenstelling elementen in Prima Materia, voorverdeling in transmutatie.
• Voor kunstenaar-alchemist de taak om chaos (gevolg vd. Zondeval) opnieuw in toestand van volmaaktheid te brengen.

Bij het nummer 'Unborn Floating Oddity' komt een patroon voor van leegte, opgevolgd door chaos. Dan verloopt het nummer in een samenkomst van instumenten (ritme, harmonie) die hemels en magisch klinkt. Door met beeld in het begin een contrast te maken met de muziek (tegenstelling Prima Materia) en en bij het hemelse gedeelte een paralel, kan ik het wordingsproces van chaos naar de volmaaktheid uitbeelden.

Carvaggio “Pluto, Neptunus en Jupiter
(Allegorie van de Alchemie) ” (+/- 1597)

Kosmos

• archetype van elke scheppende activiteit en symbool van het universele sacrale
• harmonie van menselijke ziel en het heelal
• mens kan structuur van heelal doorgronden

Door verchillende elementen aan een werk toe te voegen (steen der wijzen + Pluto, Neptunus en Jupiter) verzinnebeeld je verschillende toestanden van materie (vast, vloeibaar en gasvormig). Als ik vergelijkbare elementen in mijn act verwerk (bijvoorbeeld muziek als vloeibaar, beeld als gasvormig en mijn stage act als vaste vorm) kan ik een zelfde effect bereiken.

 Ook het werk van Picasso is een samenstelling van symbolen die samen de kosmos weergeven: pegasus als synthese tussen hemel en aarde, gevleugeld meisje als vaardigheid, eigenschap voor het scheppingsprosces, aap als positieve en donkere kan van de schepping, acrobaten als ordenende kracht van de kosmos en harlekijn als afsplitsing van Mercurius.

Pablo Picasso “Parade” ”(1917)

Giovanni Antonio da Varese "Constellatie"

 Hemel

• Vertegenwoordigt het geweten, dat sensuele en aarde dimensie overstijgt
• het goede, de mens als microkosmos
• cirkel, aarde

Staat parallel aan de aarde, maar 'gewetenslaag' die normaal niet te op merken valt. Met sommige nummers van Rahziël, zoals 'Secret Regions' probeer ik die gewetenslaag zichtbaar te maken.



Dit kan ik doen door de vloeibaarheid van de muziek, het beeld als vast element, cirkelvormig als achtergrond, en mijzelf als lucht door de manier waarop ik speel, beweeg en zing.


Maan

• Schakel die hemel en aarde verbindt
• Poort dodenrijk
• Reflexieve kennis/onderbewuste
• Kosmisch wordings proces\

Rahziël, als Engel der Mystiek en Geheimen, speelt het onderbewuste, het verborgene, een grote rol. Engelen zijn boodschappers van god, dus kunnen ook als een soort schakel tussen hemel en aarde gezien worden. Het kosmische wordingsproces is ook een mystieke aangelegenheid, dus zal de maan overgangen in nummers, overgangen tussen beeld/geluid/stage act kunnen ondersteunen.



Eva

• draak, hoorns vaan de slang: Maancultus
• Y-vorm van boom der dualiteit, drang naar kennis en vrije wil.

Buiten dat zij in het christendom symbool voor zonde staat, is zij in alchemie de belichaming van wijsheid. Het gaat om de drang naar kennis en een liefde voor het leven in al zijn verschijningsvorm. Zij staat ook voor de vrouwelijke kan van het androgyne voordat deze gesplitst wordt. Dus door gebruik te maken van de Y vorm, zoals in een boom of hoorns, kan dit een ambivalent aspect van mijn act benadrukken.

Caspar David Friedrich "Reiziger boven wolkenzee" 1815

 Reis

• Verwerven van kennis hoger geestelijk niveau

Het gene dat de reis symboliseerd is een wordingsproces. Een reis betekent een ervaring, waar je aan het einde kennis hebt opgedaan. Door middel van mijn performance wil ik ook een ervaring bewerkstelligen, wat een reis kan lijken.

Jeroen Bosch "Hemelvaart" (+/- 1450-1516)

Droom

• Voorspelling
• initiatie
• carthasis

Dromen hebben vaak een symbolische betekenis, en de droom in kunst symboliseert vaak iets dat komen gaat. Het heeft een parallel met de werkelijkheid, en geeft een vertekend, of misschien wel meer nauwkeurig, beeld.

Het idee van de droom kan ik gebruiken om het begin en het einde van mijn voorstelling met elkaar te verbinden; het begin om men mee te nemen in de droom, als een soort initiatie in een ervaring. Op het einde laat ik hen de droom zelf verder beleven door extra in te zetten op in de werkelijkheid van de onwerkelijkheid en daar niet te specefiek in zijn maar iets over te laten aan de verbeelding van het publiek.