Equality

EQUALITY.

by me.

Everyone should be equally poor or rich and look alike, dress alike, think alike, speak alike. . .etc. Soon, they'll be giving us all numbers instead of names. Numbering people, see, treating them like machines, makes them easier to keep track of, control, and manipulate.

Efficiency, efficiency, efficiency.

Don't you know that an authoritarian government operates best under these conditions? How can one expect there to be ORDER in society with everyone doing they're own thing!
Change can be hard, I know, but we all must contribute to the equality of society.

I'm off to the doctor's office now. I'm making a brain donation to the Have Nots. So don't be surprised if my comments start tobecomerandom generizzzed, and inkoherentt in the FuTuREE. OKAy???

Missio Dei

I spent the last week fasting. No food. Just water, tea, coffee, and anything you can mix in a blender that doesn't require flossing afterwards. A very religious woman once told me you don't feel hunger after 3 days. She lied. After 6 days you can smell a carrot underground from 200 feet away and consider rabbits as the enemy. The Gospels expect Christians to fast, which seems strange, but remember the Gospels were written in a predominately Middle Eastern culture and the customs are somewhat different than ours.

The Gospel, or the Good News, is Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. . .Not Stuff White People Like, as Americans believe. It's easier to feel God when you're fasting. I think this is because you feel like you're going to die and people start feeling very holy when this happens as Ezekiel of old apparently did. Notice that his strange visions of the bright shining creatures took place after a time of fasting. Also notice that an angel put a live coal in his mouth and told him to eat a flying scroll-solid foods. Well, not really food. . .yet he said the scroll tasted like honey. . .until indigestion set in.

I also discovered that during fasting one has a tendency to get quite logical and go on starch and rescue missions looking for edible things to place in the mouth that, strictly-speaking, are not food. Dating is also difficult-not that I would really know-but others told me of cruising the local roads with the windows down huffing fumes from McDonalds and Wendys.

Quite often, one gets strange dreams and visions. Once, after four days, the Lord spoke to me in a dream and said,

"Arise, my son. Go ye into the marketplace and there prepare me a sacrifice. Take a bird, set it in the flames, and roast it for a time, times, and half a time at 350 degrees. Then anoint it with bbq sauce and consume the flesh of the beast, then you will have the strength of men and angels. Go now. Make haste. And fear not the eyes of mortal men for I am with you-thus sayeth the Lord."

I heeded the Voice. To obey is better than sacrifice you know, and arose from my bed. Put on my sacks and ashes. . .and sauntered into Krogers with bent back and bowed head. I felt like a weary pilgrim returning to the Holy Land. . .although the sunglasses kind of took away the effect.

I found the creature (just as the Lord described) wrapped in swaddled plastic and laying in a bed of ice. It was a trite little beast, barely the size of a man's hand. I held the dainty creature to my bosom and solemnly walked to the checkout. . .and laid the beast upon the counter and piously watched as it slowly moved towards the cashier.

My hands were clenched. . .tears welled in my eyes. . .and as I lifted mine eyes to give thanks unto the Lord for this creature sent from heaven. I noticed the cashier was a lady from the church.

She looked at me and said, "Say. I know you. You're that quiet fellow always sitting in the back. You're not gonna eat this thing, are ya. We're supposed to be fasting"

I put my hands to my lips and replied, "Shhh. . .quiet. . .can't. . .can't speak now. . .You. . .don't understand. . .You see. . .I'm on a mission from God."

18 Random Facts About Me

1. I've always wanted to be dictator over a small 3rd-world country in South America.

2. I really like Khaki and own 5 pairs of Khaki pants more-or-less identical to one another.

3. I'm somewhat egotistical and have grandiose plans.

4. Guns, missiles, rockets, and small cannon fire fascinate me.

5. When I was 13-years-old, I built a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher.

6. When I was 13-and a half years-old, the only reason I wasn't sent to a juvenile detention center was because the county judge was golfing that day.

7. I like golf and merciful assistant magistrates.

8. I often envision myself on national currency.

9. I think Parrish should be the capital of France.

10. After reading Julius Caesar's Gallic Wars, I felt like I could have offered him some suggestions.

11. Sometimes I practice lecturing 100,000 people in a large courtyard while standing on a balcony. One hand is raised, the other is behind my back concealing crossed fingers.

12. My reasons for studying Spanish in high school were more than utilitarian.

13. I often have dreams of living underground in something like a bunker. I tell myself that avoiding the sun's radiation will prolong my life and give me a good complexion, but never am truly convinced this is the right reason.

14. Relatives tell me I live in my own world and to stop day-dreaming. When I do, the same relatives tell me. . ."Maybe you should go back to your own little world." This is often said with furrowed brow and tone of voice used when discussing death and taxes.

15. In 1999, I spent a month in Asia. The national elections took place my last day there. The Communist Party was elected to a majority and that night the streets were filled with crowds of people waving red flags. The group leader told us to "maintain a low profile because it might not be a good idea if they knew we were Americans."

16. In 2001, I joined the Peace Corps and was supposed to go to Sub-Sahara Africa and teach agriculture to people who had done it for 4-5,000 years. I moved to southern West Virginia instead. I figured the pay rate was better, but never could quite grasp the language and cultural barrier.

17. Believe it or not, I have never done drugs and with the exception of a single margarita. . .and a few bottles of Robotussin. . .have never drunk anything alcoholic.

18. It would be neat to begin my memoirs with 'It was the best of tmes. It was the worst of times. It was time to raise the taxes.'

Some of my current thoughts

Bad ideas are still bad even even they're popular. The Bailout comes to mind. The Right to do something doesn't mean it's the right thing to do. Abortion comes to mind. An absolute monarchy is the best form of government, unfortunately good kings are hard to come by so we must compromise and go with a democracy. Where we all watch one another-it's the checks and balances thing. The more laws a society, the more immoral is that society. There are no laws against faith, hope, and love, but with their absence, lawyers can make a killing. For every virtue, there are two vices. Tolerance is good, intolerance is bad, as is soft-headedness. America is leaning more and more towards soft-headedness and needs to be righted. A bad government is better than no government for with no government it is only a matter of time before people do want they want and say what they mean. And mean people often have louder voices than nice people and do what they want. People say you cannot legislate immorality, but this is nonsense. For all laws are based on moral principles. It's one of the needed assumptions one must when setting up such things as constitutions. If morals are relative (and not absolute), then laws are merely subject to the interpretation of whoever wears the black robe and holds the hammer. A society with meaningless laws, subjective laws, can only lead to chaos and ruin. If one looks to the logical endpoint of this kind of society, the black robed man will exchange the hammer for a sickle an make everybody equally grim whether they like it or not. If Darwinism is valid, then Hitler was perfectly justified in killing six million Jews. This might seem scary, yet it is the logical endpoint of the theory. First go the fetuses (after all they're not fully human yet). Next comes the terminally ill (if we call it euthanasia they'll never know). Then comes the senior citizens (who have nothing to contribute to Society). Finally comes the Undesirables (with their aberrant DNA polluting the system). Does anyone venture to guess who comes next?

Work

For those of you who want to know what exactly it is I do all day, this gives you some idea.



Today's sign of the Apocalypse: I saw a sign saying '...Buck's Coffee." (The Star lights were out.) Somehow I don't business was doing well there. Something about Mint Mocha Chip Frappuccino® blended coffee with Chocolate Whipped Cream made by Buck just does not seem right.


Blogging is what a taste of heaven will be like. People blog because they want to be known, especially by their writings. People read blogs, and write in general, to be known. All this is a foreshadowing of things to come. In heaven, we'll pretty much know everyone else as they really are. And some of the strangest and quietest people you see will be (surprise, surprise) very very interesting.

Camel: For Sale

My roommate is selling a camel on the Norfolk Craigslist.

-It would be a great investment and an excellent conversation starter.

-Satisfy you're inner nomad.

-For there's a little Sheik in all of us.

The beast of burden is a little over two feet tall, and looks to be hand-carved. We took more pictures, unfortunately they all looked more like a horse, greyhound, or something from Star Wars.

The Laundromat

8:05 AM

Soap-N-Sudz. Saturday morning. Snotty nose little boys with dry phlegmmy noses play Tag. I’m home but my heart is not in it. I move the other side and sit near a fellow my age who hasn’t shaved in 3 days. I tell myself he’s a closet celebrity but my heart tells me otherwise. He resembles Johnny Depp. I call him el Pirata. Woman walks in. Woman has a goatee. Rub eyes. Nope. Vision still good. 20/20. . .which now is not a good thing.

8:07 AM

Reading fascinating article on the evolution of ceramic cats in last November’s ‘Good Housekeeping.’ Shaggy goatee person enters. This time it’s a man. Inspects quarter machine. Talks to quarter machine. Pounds on quarter machine. Kicks quarter machine. Confusion.

8:13 AM

The little old man carries a brown paper sac and looks around. He has no clothes. . .aside from the forty pounds of dirty rags on his back. He sounds very articulate, unfortunately I cannot recognize his language-nor apparently does anyone else. He talks to himself and spies me in the corner avoiding humanity.

“HowareyadoingSonny?” he says.

Not wanting to make polite conversation I reply “Me no Sonny. Me llamo Miguel Perez.”
Little man isn’t deterred. He rambles on.

“YoubefromMexicoSonny?”

“Si, Si.”

He nods and visits el Pirata.

8:25 AM

Three Mexicans walk in. Stereotypic thoughts fill my mind. Dark thoughts vex my soul. Ruffians. Vagabonds. Miscreants. Hamper thieves. They look like el Pirata’s older brothers. Old man points to me. I chant the Litany Against Fear and hum a dirge.
A scripture verse comes to mind. ‘Yea though I walk though the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I will speak softly and carry a big stick.’ Somehow this seems apropos at the moment if not perfectly exegetical. I notice the goatee woman has a stick, a curvy white one. She’s preoccupied with a Golden Retriever sporting a fanny pack. I make my move. Dog barks. Teeth snaps. Blood is drawn.

9:00 AM

Chesapeake Volunteer General Daughters of the King and Queen May-She-Live-Forever Hospital Emergency Ward for Disenfranchised Minorities and Minimal Out-Patient Surgery Center. I feel warm when I see a ‘We ‘heart’ ‘hearts’ sign on the door. Nurse. Kindly nurse with missing front teeth. Her name tag reads ‘My name is Ell.’ I figure she’s missing a letter or trying to curse like the British.

“HowareyadoingSonny?” she says.

The misery continues.

Meer Chow

Meer flakes, surprisingly, do not taste like chicken. Nor do they taste like the other white meat. In fact, Meer flakes don't taste meaty at all. Rather, they have a vanilla-ish chocolaty taste like hard dry donuts sitting on the table too long.

My Roommate

Please pray for me.

My nerves will thank you. . .

The Casual Tortoise

Last Saturday, I sold my little silver Mazda's camper to some fellow Craigslisters. Now, the Casual Tortoise seems naked and homeless. I forget how sprightly she drove-something like a newly shorn sheep-or mountain goat. Perhaps one day she get another house to carry on her back, but for now, the little lady needs the rest. No need for back trouble at the tender age of 5-years.

I've been reading Travels with Charley by John Steinbeck. It's better than I thought it would be-actually it's quite hilarious and should be read, and re-read, and canonized lest we forget what the Land of the Brave used to be like.

Another book I finished over the week-end was the second novel in the Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan. There's a fellow called Ba'alzemon who coincidentally dies on page 666. Don't know if this was planned or not, but it's still freaky.

Mantyhose

It exists. Amazing, but true. Pantyhose for men. I figure it is something like a bro-ssiere. Apparently, it is common in Europe and has slowly, but surely, making its way West. Rumour has it if one farts in the things, they expand like a balloon. I'm not sure I believe this, as I've never worn mantyhose-or pantyhose. The closest I've come is long-underwear, which (thankfully) has a trap-door for releasing excess carbon and methane. The good thing about the expanding mantyhose hypothesis is that it lowers your carbon footprint. The bad news is if you're a smoker, you stand a very good chance of singing your eyebrows as methane is quite the flammable substance. I have a hard time seeing smoking cowboys wearing mantyhose. Somehow seeing somebody from Boston is much easier, and I can definitely see a Frenchman donning the sheerness and lighting the Marlboros. But farting? I think not. French men do not pass gas. Instead, they merely talk rude and expel fumes that way. It's safer you know.

The Bidding Started at $10

I should have got suspicious when the 'buy now' option said shipping and handling included.

But it was bright and shiny.

The E-bay listing said it came straight from Hong Kong, and I figured if $100 Nikes from Hong Kong could be purchased for $5, why not luxury watches?

Very bright and shiny.

So looking on the bright side-if I wear the Cadillac (actual name) with a long-sleeve shirt, and the lighting isn't that good, and one doesn't know too much about luxury watches, and one sees it for only a second or so, then it might, just possibly, pass for a very nice, expensive, bona fide luxury watch straight from Switzerland.

Yes Sir. . .shiny and bright.

I spent twenty minutes of my life removing a link. In doing so, actually-somehow-managed to bend the stainless steel back, which wasn't hard to do considering it was thinner than a can of tuna fish.

Hmm. . .tuna fish. . .too wordy. . .when one says 'tuna'-does it not kind of imply 'fish'???

It's not the cheapest watch I've ever won. That dubious honor belongs to the quality timepiece found in a box of Chex cereal from my middle school days. And to think I was proud to wear it-till the others starting mocking and taunting me.

The Cadillac is not that bad of a watch-not for $10.

Aside from the number 12 being somewhat blurry due to being assembled before the ink dried, and the roman numeral VI being upside down, and one of the small silver bars in the 1 O'clock position overlapping the 'C' in Cadillac. . .like I said. . .if the lighting isn't that great. . .

Movie Test

This is a test.

This is a test of the Puddleglum's Wigwam blogmaster seeing if this movie file actually works.

I repeat-this is only a test.

Restlessness

It may be due in part to the Internet age.

I'm referring to this apparent re-wiring of my brain that makes it want to skim news articles and magazines. It might also be due to the fact I am the proud owner of a 35-year-old brain that keeps on thinking the same things in a never-ending cycle.

One of these ceaseless thoughts is that we are something like cats and dogs to the Angels. We're their pets. This would explain why bad things happen to good people. I don't claim to have ever seen an angel, but would I know it if I did? Cats consider humans to be other cats so it only makes sense that we'd consider angels as other humans. There have been times when I've felt someone or something watching me-something unseen-but it's been years since that happened.

Something happens to a man as he ages. He acquires an uncanny ability to sense other people before he sees them. He also knows-sometimes-what the other fellow is thinking and whether or not they're in good relations with God.

I don't think this happens with everyone though.

Spending a great deal of time by oneself-which I do-not watching TV or going to the movies, I think sensitizes ones ability to perceive other's inner man. . .their soul and their spirit.

With soul being another name for the mind and spirit the inner flame, rather like a pilot light, that keeps one living.

Another thought that keeps churning around is that life on Earth is really training for the next Life. We're developing our muscles, training our minds, modifying our spiritual DNA to do things that we cannot truly fathom.

Restlessness.

A body at rest tends to stay at rest, and a body in motion tends to stay in motion. The poor keep getting poorer, and the rich keep getting richer. The smart keep getting smarter, and the ignorant still insist on doing doing those earthy things they do.

Man, above all, is designed to make God happy sort of like our pets make us happy-but in quite a different manner. Watching the 3 squirrels in my backyard, believe it or not, help give me this idea. It would be cool to get them to talk. Perhaps this is one reason why speaking in tongues is so important. It's training our inner man to do stuff at the next stage in Life. Like wearing a mask or getting braces-if one does it long enough, eventually the body adapts to the new shape and forgets the old.

Bringing Up Boys.

On the last day of 2008, while waiting for General Tso and his famous chicken, I wandered into the used bookstore next door and purchased this. Being a former boy, and the fact that 99% of the other used books were cheap romance novels, were my main reasons.

It's quite an interesting read.

Went to the Ocean Today

Frothiness

The pier was being confiscated by a gang of pelican-like flying creatures.

Neptune, looking as stoic as usual.


" I saw the footprint of a man's naked foot!"

Driftwood

The best time to go the beach is during winter on a cold, blustery day. The tracks were due to people, some seagulls, and some to the small herd of puppies chasing one another while wearing these funky sweater things.

The Marshwigglers

I discovered these in an outdoors shop last Friday. These extraordinary cool shoes are officially called Vibram Fivefingers, but I prefer to call them The Marshwigglers.

Some Christmas pictures

I know I haven't been writing much lately. . .what most would read, so here are some Christmas pictures I took the past few days.

Shopping in Morgantown.

I found these two hats in a closet. They had never been worn.

The end of chapter 7 and the beginning of chapter 8

There might be some notes here that I've not deleted yet, but basically this is the gist of things.

I also left out a few pages where the fellows see the remnants of a mammoth-like creature because it seemed awkward-I'll try to add the mumakils (mammoth-woolly rhino creatures) in at a later date.


Warily, they approached the Gates. Malchius, Aidin, and Jorlath drew their daggers and Atma put an arrow in his bow. Finally, the great gates lie directly in front of them. Myridon led the way in silence. As they quietly entered the ancient city they looked around. Nothing seemed changed from their previous visit. Through the entire length of the city they walked. Atma stopped and peered closely at the ground.

“What do you see Atma?” asked Malchius.

Atma looked up and replied in a rather hushed tone. “Blood, and what appears to be the footprint of a man.”

After a long pause Myridon placed his hand on his great beard. “How old is this print?” he asked.

“One, two days. Perhaps even three.”

“Then it’s safe to say that their owner is far away. Still yet, we’ll split up and search the city. Something feels amiss about this place. Did you notice how quiet it is?”

“Yes,” replied Atma. “The very air feels full of dread, almost as if Megisteron himself passed through.”

The group separated and agreed to meet in half an hour. Malchius wondered if it was the wisest thing to wander about alone but kept this to himself. Fortunately, five minutes later Jorlath whistled loudly for the others. He was halfway up a set of stairs that led up the outside of a guard tower in the main gate facing the Layam. The others quickly scurried over and before anyone had an opportunity to question him he signaled for silence. Jorlath climbed down and told them what he’d seen.

“A troop of horsemen bearing the ensign of a black hand are riding north of the city. What their business here is beyond me but they’re galloping hard.”

“How many did you see?”

“Twenty riders and all carrying long spears.”

“Did you see anything else?”

“Yes. I saw a man lying on the ground at the far end of the city wearing the same black garb as the riders.”

“Come, Malchius,” said Myridon. “We will investigate. For now, you three will watch the riders from this abandoned guard tower and warn us if any return. Malchius and I will return presently.”

When they were out of earshot from the others Malchius asked Myridon. “Who are these riders of the black hand?”

“Bandits most likely. Perhaps they’re some of the ones from Maligmia. We’ll find out soon enough.”

They soon found the man lying on his back in the middle of the remnants of a large house or temple. Cautiously they approached him. He appeared to be dead until Myridon tapped him with his staff. The man let out a soft moan. Malchius bent down and poured water over his face. He opened his eyes and stared at his two new visitors.

“Who are you?” thundered Myridon in a commanding voice.

The man mumbled something unintelligible then closed his eyes. Malchius bent back down and poured some water into his mouth. Myridon repeated his last question. This time he opened his eyes and coughed violently and cracked out the word ‘Anvar.’

“Anvar. Is that your name?”

The man nodded.

“Why are you lying here like a dead dog. Where are you from?”

The man coughed violently once more. Malchius gave him another drink.

“If I tell you will you promise to spare my life and not return me to my master?”

“I will make no such promises. This, however, I will say. If you make any attempt to escape you will meet with an early death. For two of our party are deadly archers and can hit an apple a quarter mile away at dusk.”

“It seems I have no choice in the matter. Well then, here is my story.”

“Dagornash is my master. He is a powerful man in Maligmia and I was his personal servant. After we raided some villages about Velusia I became ill and he left me here to die...”

Anvar once more took hold of another violent fit of coughing that lasted a full thirty seconds.

“The riders we saw riding north of the city, Are these from Maligmia also?”

“Yes, they were anxious to return to their stronghold in the mountains. Dagornash is their leader.”

“Where is this stronghold?”

“An hours ride north of this city. There is a system of caves where we worked from.”
Malchius helped Anvar up into a sitting position.

“What does this Dagornash want with these outlying villages? Isn’t Maligmia a kingdom of great wealth already?”

“Quite right. Dagornash tells me nothing of his true aims.”

“Perhaps he was ordered to raid these villages,” said Myridon. “This Dagornash may be a vassal of Megisteron.”

“Never! He was a cold master but just.”

“Times have changed Anvar. Many upright men with good intentions go astray, especially in this age. Already Megisteron has turned the hearts of valiant men to evil and the love of many has grown cold. And did you not say he tells you nothing of his thoughts?”

“No. I still think you are wrong.”

“Very well. Wrong I may be, yet if I am not, he must be caught and punished or be driven from the land. We are in need of haste or we would have you show us his hiding places. As it is now, you will go to Velusia with Atma.”

(Why?)

“But they may recognize me,” he stammered.

“That’s a risk you’ll have to take. I shouldn’t worry too much about that if I were you. If you truly were a slave to Dagornash you should have no need for fear. Perhaps if you plead your case before Khiron he will show you mercy.”

Anvar had no reply. He slumped back to the ground and closed his eyes.

“Let him lie here,” said Myridon. “Go back to the others and tell them what we’ve heard. Aidin, tell Atma to come back and carry him to one of the guard tower rooms. I’ll return later. I want to examine this city a bit more while the light lasts.”

Malchius ran back to the tower.

“What did the dead man say?” asked Aidin.

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough,” he panted. “Come. Jorlath should stay here and keep watch. We’ll carry him back here. No. I don’t think he’ll run off. He’s glad to have different company. The riders we saw earlier, he was a personal slave to their leader.”

Malchius, Aidin, and Atma went back to Anvar. He still seemed to be sleeping so they left him there while they searched for something to carry him on. Presently they found two long poles which may have been used tp prop up a roof at one time but lay half buried in a pile of rubble. They wrapped a blanket around the poles to make a type of bed. They placed Anvar on the device and carried him back to the tower just as night was approaching.

“Brr,” Aidin shivered. “It’s cold in here. Where’s my tinder box? I had it by me just before you came back.”

“I’ve got it,” said Jorlath as he entered the guard tower. “I thought of making a fire but then it may have drawn attention to who knows what dark creatures lurking nearby.”

“Wise choice friend,” said Mal. “Did you see anyone else?”

“Nay, only Myridon clambering upon some rocks on the far reaches of the city.”

“He should return soon.”

Atma climbed the crumbly dusty stairs of the watchtower to stand guard. The other three, after making Anvar as comfortable as possible, tried to get more words from him but he simply muttered the same story as before. Soon, Myridon returned quietly. In his hand he carried something in a tattered cloth rag.

“Ho! Wizard. What have you got there?” asked Aidin.

“Something useful I think.”

He opened the contents of his bundle and held up a clay pot. Carefully he removed the lid to reveal a chalky red powder to the curious travelers.

“What is it?” asked Malchius. “It doesn’t look so useful to me unless we can eat it.”

He stretched out his hand to take some.

“Stop!” shouted Myridon. “This is mummy powder, very useful and very dangerous. Just a little powder on the flesh will cause irreparable damage. It is used for killing. A simple dusting of this powder about the room of a sleeping man and he will die by morning. The riders probably dropped it on their way out of the city.”

“Mummy powder?” asked Malchius.

“Yes,” replied Myridon. “It is an extract of Tantleweed, commonly known as Dragon’s Breath. A fell herb that grows only in the courts and gardens of Megisteron’s palaces. It is not a hardy weed and requires constant care. This Anvar knows more than he speaks.”

He eyed the weary Maligmian lying in the corner. The wizard glowered at him and asked.
“Where was your old master journeying?”

Anvar tried to talk but his voice quavered. “Here, drink this,” Myridon said as he gave him a sip of his cordial. Anvar drank and hoarsely replied,
“It is to the west as far as the western isles on the great sea, Dagornash has set in his mind to travel. He has great stores built up from plundering to furnish such an expedition.”

“The great sea is a thousand leagues away and only a score of riders did we see. Are there more riders hidden in the hills?”

“We leave a few men behind to guard the stores.”

“Anvar, listen to me carefully. Can you lead me to these caves in a months time? I deem that they may be useful. We’ve very pressing business to attend to that cannot wait much longer.”

“That I think I can, though it won’t be easy. We can see anyone from afar and the few men that Dagornash has are vigilant.”

“Other paths exist that you may know not of and we’ve also men among us who can at times walk unseen.”

“I will lead you then. It is the least I can do to repay you for saving my life.”

Early the next day, well before sunrise, the company was on it’s way. They took care not to leave the ruined city of the dead by the main gate. Instead, they took a winding, twisting circuit climbing over great stone slabs covered with slippery lichen. An hour and a half later and they were finally on the outskirts of Palo-Enlil back on the trail.

**(name of trail? Enlil Way, Enlil road, Ancients road?)

Anvar thought that Dagornash wouldn’t take the trail** as they always used paths well hidden and unknown to most. As a precaution, they took it in turn to send a scout ahead, usually Jorlath. The return to Velusia was without any event(bereft of any danger) and except for one false scare they were in site of the city only two days later.

They made camp in the middle of an ancient field that night. They laughed and told one another stories of the previous month together. It was the first night since leaving Mt. Danyabad that any of them had a really good laugh. The night grew long. Jorlath was on watch but Malchius lie restless. He rose and walked up the dark hill where he found the Rodamine gazing into the darkness.

“Tell me, Jorlath. One the day you found me at your doorstep. As I was recovering consciousness, you said that I was a kingsman. Yet I had not the garb of one. Why did you say that?”

“Mizraim of late has been losing many men to the Plague. Many foreigners have been joining him as mercenaries. They are a sinister race and seem as if no blood runs through their veins. They refuse to wear the blue and black. When I first saw you, you were as pale as they. Something held back my arrow though it was trained on you. A great doubt shadowed my mind. It saved your life.”

“When I awoke you still thought me a kingsman, did you not?”

“Perhaps Malchius. I think maybe I did, yet I was not certain. Myridon allayed my doubts. But not to worry now. I have no doubts. I once thought you were a kingsman, now you have become a kinsman! Come, we have spoken much tonight, and that is not wise. Speech makes me weary though I enjoy your conversation.”

Malchius took over the night watch. Jorlath, the silent one, formally an enigma, had now begun to open up.

The next morning was cloudy and overcast and a rain was in the air. It was a very somber mood for Atma especially. He had grown almost a brother to the rest of the party, except Myridon. One found it extremely difficult to know just exactly what he thought. They trudged the remaining miles to Velusia and finally arrived at midday. They stopped and looked at one another each feeling somewhat self-conscious. Atma broke the silence by saying.

“Ah..almost a pleasant sound to my ears.” Then turning to Jorlath said, “Farewell Jorlath the Silent. May your silence be a blessing for those who seek peace and solitude,” and then with a grin added, “You’re really great company when one wants to be alone.”

Myridon, Atma, and Anvar walked apart from the others. They talked quietly among themselves for some minutes. When they had returned Malchius noted a slight uneasiness hung about Atma but Anvar seemed more relaxed.

“We mustn’t delay any longer,” began Myridon. Already I feel time pressing a weight on me that I’ve not felt for ages.”

At that moment a horn sounded in the city. “Ah, that would be the sixhour bell. Quickly now! The gates will close in three hours time and I would be well to be in my fathers house before the hour is gone. Farewell...”

“Farewell Atma! Farewell Anvar!” they cried.

They watched the two march down to the main gates half a mile below them. Soon, the remaining four travelers turned their eyes towards the Aeldorland and began walking.

A tear appeared on Malchius’ cheek.

Chapter 7 The Saga of Cheese Continues

There was little speech that evening. Everyone retired to an early bed. The night was with out incident and the dawn rose and went. They crossed the Beren the second time in the same place as before and made a sharp right turn. They started up a tall ridge south that led to the ring of mountains around the Layam. The going was rough and they found no trail to follow. Old gnarled trees of twisted firs and endless thickets of brambles were the only things that grew there. The air was dark and no breeze blew. Indeed the land seemed strangely quiet. Towards the afternoon, the brambles became less. Later they ceased altogether and the trees grew further apart, enabling them to see quite a ways into the forest. They spent the day following old animal trails that circumvented the Layam. That evening they thought they could catch a glimmer of light from Brontes cave but were never too sure. Atma promised Malchius that he would show him how to make Moglat howls. Around the campfire Atma made good on his word.

“Watch closely to what I do now,” said Atma. Malchius watched as the little guide cupped his hands to his mouth. For the next fifteen minutes he gave a series of long, how whistles. At the end of each whistle he made a sort of hoot-hoot-hoots. They watched and waited. Five minutes, ten minutes. Nothing. Atma then had Malchius try. Malchius tried for five minutes or so and again they waited. Still nothing.

“Ha, ha, ha Aidin laughed. “A rum lot you fellows are. Try again tomorrow night, Perhaps you’ll hoot one in.”

“I don’t understand” Atma said.

“Usually they respond when I call.”

“Perhaps they sleeping,” muttered Myridon who was lying down. “And I think its time we all got some sleep too.”

They took his advice and spent a quiet night. The next day was spent in much the same as before. Walking along narrow paths that overlooked the Layam. Nothing extraordinary happened that day nor the next. The night of their third day from Danyabad, however, was different. Jorlath was on watch and heard a snuffing sort of sound just outside the edge of camp. He grabbed a burning brand from the campfire and walked over the investigate.
“Who’s there!,” he said in a loud voice.

Slowly he extended the torch above his head to see better. A pair of golden eyes stared at him from behind a stone. Jorlath pick up a stick and threw it at the eyes.

“Ha! Take that. Come out from there whatever you are.”

The eyes disappeared and at the same time his torch went out. Quickly now, he went over to wake the others. Atma was the last to get up but when he rose he laughed and said,
“What’s the matter, Jor? Moglats got you on the edge?”

“Moglat or not, what I saw was evil-looking.”

The company each took a flaming brand and walked around the camp but nothing could be seen.

“Nothing here exclaimed Malchius. The others agreed and promptly went back to sleep. All except Atma who took over Jorlaths’s watch. Just as the sun was breaking over the horizon Myridon was helping Atma search for tracks. None were found, but Atma found a few tufts of long grey hair stuck in a bush near the spot where Jorlath saw the eyes. He walked triumphantly into camp as the others were eating breakfast.

“Look here!” he cried.

“Moglat fur or I’m a fool,”

“Ah, then I did see something last night,” said Jorlath

“Yes, probably a solitary moglat though. Myridon is still out searching.....hey, here he comes now.”

The wizard strolled in and reported nothing. He looked at the few tufts of grey hair. Atma brought in.

“This certainly is Moglat fur. Let’s just hope it’s the only one we see.”

He turned toward Atma. “And no more calling tonight. Understand?”

The group finished up and resumed their path towards path. Malchius saw Atma and Jorlath, who were out in front, stoop down and picked up something. They immediately walked back to Malchius and showed him a partially ripped food sac one of theirs. The wizard and Aidin, following last came up and looked at it.

“Well, seems your friend was a bit hungry, eh Atma.”

They continued on. That night a ring of torches was erected around the camp. The next two nights they did this every so often yellow eyes peered at them but they quickly left when someone thrust a torch their direction. Once a long howl was heard and after that no more eyes were seen for the rest of the night. Malchius questioned Atma about the howl who said it was only a wolf. This startled Malchius, but Myridon wasn’t so sure.

On their sixth day after leaving the Beren river they saw the Gates of Layam from afar. They halted for the rest of the afternoon, for the heat of the sun had already exhausted them. The night was cold and cheerless and none of them got much sleep.

Their seventh day from Danyabad began as the previous six. Atma cooked breakfast Aidin and Jorlath packed the supplies. Myridon and Malchius scouted out the land to see if any type of danger was lurking about.

“The plan for the day,” began Myridon, “is to make for the plateau of Girishad. There is, or was, a bridge that crossed the Girishad Trench that led to the plateau. Somewhere, according to Atma, you could descend into the plateau into a sort of hidden pathway at the bottom. There we’ll be safe from any prying eyes which could see anyone from afar if they were on top. After all, I’m not quite ready to have the world see me. Not that I mind meeting new people you see. But I’d prefer to meet them on my own terms. Exactly where the entrance to the hidden pathway is located is not certain, however, it is believed to be across a small river ten to fifteen miles further away. We’ll stop and make camp on the side of the bridge where it is still forested. We’ll stop and make camp on this side of the bridge where it is still forested.”

The travelers walked the trail at a leisurely pace. Except for one small hill, the ground sloped downhill at a gentle angle. Their path was covered with small mosses that dampened the sound of their feet. It also had a cushioning effect. Myridon said it felt like walking on a carpet such as a king or wealthy landowner might own. The flowers began to get more numerous as they descended. To Malchius it seemed a strange sight after having spent the past week looking at a cold cheerless land of rocks and little plant life. Scattered boulders scattered everywhere gave a slight feeling of apprehension to all. Malchius could almost picture a dragon or a giant hiding behind them. A great mound of turf had been dug up appeared in front of them. Jorlath questioned Atma about it.

“Ah,” he said. “In the winter, great beasts migrate here to feed. The mounds you see are the signs of the great wooly mumlak. They are a mysterious creature rarely seen nowadays. My fathers would hunt them for food and for their skin. They would come to the pools by the hundreds, it is said. Now to see one from afar is considered lucky.”

“What do they look like?”

“Hmm, well I’ve only seen two in my lifetime and they were far away. If we make it back to Velusia I will show you. We have artisans who can paint their likeness so that they appear almost lifelike. As to their description, they are huge. They are as big as a house and covered with long dark fur. The males have two long white teeth with which they fight one another. Their ears are enormous too. Perhaps that is why they are rarely seen. They have excellent hearing.”

“They seem more terrible than dragons,” replied Malchius. “What do they eat?”

Atma pointed to a few scraggly trees dotting the rocky mountainside.

“Mostly these. Although when hungry they will eat almost anything that grows. These great mounds of turf you see here are the remains of mamluks digging for food.”

They continued on down the mountain trail at a good pace. Aidin saw something rather strange about one particular boulder. It looked almost as if the top of it moved. He paused and took a second look. He saw it again. Something was moving on top of the rock. He grasped Atma by the arm and pointed. Atma looked and said to the others in a low voice,
“Caution friends. Perhaps my eyes deceive me, but I believe I see a gargoyle on that large boulder resting. If it is, we shan’t be in much danger for they sleep during the day and are more or less blind when the sun is out.”

“More or less?” asked Myridon. “What tell me exactly do you mean by that?”
“They’re nocturnal creatures. They sleep in the sun to warm themselves and hunt by night. It’s rather far away and could perhaps be a large moglat.”

“If it’s a moglat, it’s by far the largest we’ve seen thus far,” said Jorlath. “And this creature has no hair and scaly skin.”

“Wait here,” said Atma. “I’ll return shortly.”

“Wait,” said Myridon. “I’m coming with you. I’d like to have a closer look at this ‘hairless moglat’ of yours.”

The wizard and the Velusian tiptoed stealthily from boulder to boulder. Soon they were out of site. The others waited. Five minutes, ten minutes, and hour went by.

“Do you suppose they woke up that creature?” asked Malchius.

“I hope not,” replied Aidin. “Blind or no. I’d rather let it alone. That thing gives me the creeps.”

Jorlath looked at the creature for long whiles in silence. He felt as if the sleeping creature knew of their presence and was dreaming of how to catch them once night set upon the land. Presently Atma and Myridon returned. Their report wasn’t encouraging either.

“So,” said Malchius. “Did you find out anything?”

“Yes and no,” replied the guide. “Yes it is certainly a gargoyle and it appears to be alone. This is strange. Usually they congregate together for protection. I don’t know why this particular one was solitary but it appears to be an old gargoyle. Very old for their race.”

“It has a crest on it’s head, much like some of the birds found in Khirons palace. That is also strange. Maybe the others chased it out of the tribe,” said Myridon.

“Did you find any clues that suggest more in the vicinity?” asked Aidin.

“I cannot say for certain,” replied Atma. “They are even more mysterious than the mamluk or even moglats. Very little is known about their habits. Except what I told you earlier, not much else is known.”

“One more thing,” Myridon added in a low voice. “It is said that they only eat living flesh. The sun will set in only a few hours, but fortunately there is a full moon tonight. Let us make for the bridge in all haste. It wouldn’t be wise to be found walking in the open once that old gargoyle wakes.”

“The bridge crossing the canyon to the plain of Girishad was built five hundred years ago,” said Atma. “It was built as a shortcut to the mountains. Traders would hunt the mamluk and other large creatures in the mountains and sell their skins to traders. The bridge was a link from the mountains to Palo-Enlil. Nowadays only dwarves use it on their long journeys from Dangmar to South Girishad.”

The bridge was only a few minutes walk away when the party caught their first glimpse of the canyon. Evening was approaching so they hurried on, wanting to cross the bridge before the sun set. The minutes passed. Atma grew increasingly agitated. “The bridge should be visible now,” he thought. “Surely they weren’t lost. There is only one path leading from the bridge to the mountains.”

As they came to the edge of the canyon no bridge was seen, only two great pillars stood. Here and there the ground was strewn with bones. Most appeared to have been gnawed by some ravenous creatures.

“Well this is a fine one,” quipped Aidin. “How will we get across now?”

“Hopeless,” muttered his brother. “If we only had wings like that old gargoyle.”

Atma crouched to the ground. With a stick he carefully prodded and poked at one of the longest bones.

“Well, Atma? What happened to these creatures. It looks as if we’ve come to a feeding place for lions or something.”

“Lions don’t leave the bones of their prey half uneaten like what you see here. No creature that walks on four legs would do such a thing?”

“Well? What caused this?”

"Do you remember that gargoyle we passed earlier?”

“Yes.”

“And do you recall that strange wailing sound last night?”

“How could I forget.”

“This is a gargoyle circle. And that is bad, very bad. Even worse than dragons gargoyles are.”

“This news is not encouraging friend. Perhaps we should turn back.”

“Is there any way to cross it”

“None that I can see.”

“Well, we certainly can’t go back, unless of course you want to ask the kind ole’ Mr. Gargoyle to fly you across.”

“No. I’d rather not, thank you. Perhaps there’s another way across.”

“No, there isn’t. At least not for twenty miles. And by that time the gargoyles will be awake.”

“So this is it , huh.... Pretty poor way to die if you ask me.”

“No come on everyone. Think. I don’t know about you but I’m not ready to die just yet.”

Atma walked over to the lip of the canyons looked down. It was a sheer drop five hundred feet if not more and twice that to the other side. He sat down and studied the cliff walls closely, Noting it’s jagged edges and cracks. One crack seemed darker than the others. He peered closer and stared. Something about the crack just wasn’t normal. He picked up a rock pebble and dropped it onto a small ledge jutting out from the crack. The rock hit and bounced back off. He watched it plummet to the ground. It seemed to take forever to hit the bottom. 3....4....5.....seconds he counted. He picked up another rock and dropped it on the ledge a second time. This time the stone hit the ledge and bounced into the crack.

“Why I do declare. I believe that’s some sort of cave.” he said and then to the others.

“Myridon!, Malchius!, Jorlath!, Aidin!” come here. Take a look at this.”

Michael, the first to arrive , got down on his hands and knees and peered over. Atma pointed to the dark hollow cavity fifty feet below. Atma’s bringing in the mountains made it easier to find a way down.

He envisioned a route down to the cave. A line of rocks were protruding from the cliff face just above it. They could spend the night in the cave if they could somehow make it down, for surely the gargoyle wouldn’t climb down there. It was going to be exceedingly dangerous at best and simple foolish at worst.

The Rodamine brothers and Myridon saw Atma plan it once and began to look for every spare piece of rope in the peaks. Minutes later they returned with about two hundred and fifty feet links. Atma and Malchius were just discussing the best route down when a loud piercing howl was heard. The five cowered to the ground.

“Was that the gargoyle?” asked Malchius

“Can’t be” replied the Wizard. “They don’t stir during daylight. It’s probably a moglat wailing from loneliness.

“Well it sure sounded like the one we heard last night.”

“I think this time Myridon is wrong,” said Atma slowly.

The wizard glowered at him.

“Just exactly what do you mean?” He said.

“I mean,” continued Atma

“That before they stir at night, if they’re extremely hungry or angry, they’ll wait and moan just exactly like. . .”

The wailing began again, only this time at another place. Moments later another sounded
“There’s more than one. . .they’re signaling one another.”

The Wizard looked at Atma.
“Now why, pray tell me, would gargoyles be signaling one another now--an hour before sunset? That is, even if they are gargoyles.”

“Something has disturbed them. Something very powerful. I can feel it in my bones. It’s strange though. I can’t seem to sense what the thing is. Just something very powerful.”

A chill went up Malchius’ spine at Atma words. For at times, he too sensed, or thought he sensed, a great presence in the lands. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Myridon interrupted his thought by saying. “You fellows are spooked. And spooked, quite well. I still say they’re moglats. Yet, I do agree we’d have a safer night down below. So let’s get going. The quicker we get down to that hole, the safer we’ll be.”

After Myridon, Atma, and Jorlath turned to get the bags Atma looked at Malchius and rolled his eyes.

“He hates it when he’s wrong. Did you notice how he started blinking his eyes when I told him about the gargoyles wailing? He didn’t expect that. It’s just like a wizard you know.”

Malchius smiled.

“Yes, your right. He’s very wise nonetheless.”

“The best solution,” said Atma minutes later, “is to climb down is to tie the two ropes together and wrap one end around a tree overlooking the cliff.”

”And when we got down? Asked Myridon.”

Atma looked at him puzzled and replied. “Why we’d be down of course.”

“Yes we would. We’d also leave a nice little calling card to any gargoyles that might come slinking about. We might as well say Hello Mr. Gargoyle, down here, yes that’s the way. Have you any idea on how to bring down the rope after we get there?”

“Well, not really.” said Atma.

“There’s only one way left,” said Malchius. The wizard and Atma looked at him. “Only one way, and that’s to climb down without the rope.”

“Rather dangerous don’t you think? With the possible exception of Myridon, that night was one of the longest nights any of them had ever experienced. All night long they shivered and shook. Several times the gargoyles shadows could be seen moving on the rock face as they soared in the moonlit night. Their thin crackling voices echoed strangely in the cool night air. At one point a voice was heard saying that they had simply vanished and the search was in vain. This uplifted the company’s hopes but they were soon dashed when moments later they heard another voice saying.

“Lorcan, you fool, don’t be such a coward. They’re around here somewhere and we must find them. Don’t you want fresh meat tonight or are you still hankering for some old fare?”

All night long the creatures searched but fortunately they never found the five in their cave. Dawn eventually came and the gargoyles left. Myridon was the first to stick his head out to take a view. Slowly, he scanned the horizon. He looked in the bright morning sky, above to see if the way up was safe. He was a bit amazed to see how steep the way down was. He pulled his head back in after a few more minutes.

“Could you see anything?”

“Nothing for miles around not even any birds. What’s up top where we would’ve camped-I can’t say. Well have to climb up and take a look.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“No. Nothing except the wind of course. You’ve welcome to look for yourself.”

“Malchius stuck his head out and almost instantly became woozy. The bottom of the mountain was perhaps a mile away. Malchius bit his lip and held his breath. Malchius, who was uneasy climbing trees, could hardly fathom the position he was now in. Knowing that he had to climb up to the top without rope didn’t made him feel any easier either. Down below, wisps of clouds flitted past. He could just barely make out a small stream snaking its way to the north. Not long after he struck his head back in.

“Back so soon?” asked Aidin.

“Ah, er, yes,” he said in a somewhat shaky voice.

Aidin grinned and looked out. He let out a long whistle and said.

“I didn’t realize how high up we were last night. Those white things we saw must have been the fog rising up form that stream.”

“We at any rate we’ve got to get back to the top, and the sooner the better.”

Malchius didn’t much like this proposition but he couldn’t stay here for the rest of his life. Aidin and Jorlath made ready for the climb back up. Malchius, who had just recent acquired a mysterious stomach ache laid down at the back of the cave. Myridon sat looking on the ledge, thinking.

Aidin led the way. Fearlessly he stepped onto the ledge and looked up at the rocky wall. For a long while he stood there until at last he said,
“I’m ready now. I see a line that looks safe. I’ll begin Myridon will follow. Young Michael, you had better stay with Atma and Jorlath until we reach the top. When we do, we’ll let down a rope. That should help a little anyway.”

Aidin and Myridon began their climb to the top. From the ledge Malchius watched their progress which seemed painfully slow. He wondered how long it would take him to climb to the top. They still had twenty miles to walk to reach the pass. What the gargoyles would do to them if they didn’t make it in time, Malchius didn’t want to think.

It took Aidin and Myridon an hour and a half to reach the top. They quickly tied one end of the rope to a sturdy looking fir tree and led down the rope. Atma caught hold of it and pulled the rope tight. He turned to Malchius,
“Well my friend, are you ready?”

“As soon as I’ll ever be,” Malchius replied.

“Good. Still nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Even better. Nervousness makes for better climbing. It makes you strong when you are weak.”

Aidin tied the rope around his waist and almost effortlessly started climbing. In only half an hours time he reached the top. He threw down the rope which landed with a loud ? To Malchius’ ears. Jorlath picked up the rope and placed his hand on Malchius’ shoulder.

“It’s time. Come, for we must hurry, already it is two hours after dawn.”

Malchius stood on the ledge and grasped the rope.

“You’ll have to help me with the knot, I’m afraid.”

Jorlath tied the knot tight around Malchius’ waist. Carefully then, Malchius started up.
“Be sure to test the rocks first, then grasp the rocks firmly with your fingers when you put your full weight on them.”

Malchius made no reply, only nodded his head. Carefully his tested each rocky hold with his hand as Jorlath said. Halfway to the top he paused. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be he thought. Only about thirty feet to go and I’ll be done. Slowly he began climbing again.

“Now only fifteen more feet. He felt much more relaxed now. Atma, Aidin and Myridon were looking at him from above. Now only ten more feet to go. He placed his left hand over a dark colored rock and pulled his body up. The rock crumbled in this hand. With no time to yell, he felt his body come away from the wall and he fell. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth but he stopped. Aidin and Atma caught the rope in time. Malchius, now dangling in mid-air, caught a glimpse of the bottom. The wooziness came on him again but soon passed.

“Get back to the wall!” called Aidins voice from above.

Malchius swung on the rope haplessly for another moment, then swung himself to the wall. He made it to the top about fifteen minutes later. Aidin and Atma reached down and pulled his weary body above the lip of the canyon and there he lay, exhausted. Aidin let down the rope for the last time. Jorlath climbed up fairly easily. They ate a hurried meal while ???

Now the five were safe at the top. Atma filled the water skins. Then they were off for the pass. The time was mid-morning and they needed to get there before night. The travelers made only one brief halt in the afternoon. An hour before dusk they saw the pass in the distance a mere three miles away.

Hardly daring to pause for more than a few moments they started jogging towards it. They arrived just as dusk was approaching. Atma gazed uneasily in the sky. Their camp last night could not be seen but dark clouds hovered in the sky from that direction. He squinted his eyes and thought he saw something flying in the air but he wasn’t sure. He felt an uneasiness in his heart but told not the others what he thought he had saw. He did feel the need for haste though and said,

“Quickly now. We must cross the river before night comes.”

The others agreed and they hurried down the long sloping hillsides of the pass to the river. Atma led the way through the river just as the thin red crescent of the sun dipped below the horizon. A large thicket of rhododendron lay before them. Atma felt it wise to spend the night there and so they tramped on for another fifteen minutes through the dark shrubs. Together they plopped to the ground and went to sleep. Jorlath on first watch saw and heard nothing of the gargoyles. Indeed he heard nothing but the cool nighttime breeze. At midnight he roused Malchius.

Early the next morning Malchius looked up. They were actually in the plateau now. The gargoyles couldn’t get down to them or even see them. The walls of the canyon sloped inward as they reached the surface. A narrow sliver of light from the top diffused so that it seemed to be perpetual evening in the rocky labyrinth. The path was wide enough for two horses to walk abreast.

“We should arrive at the Gates of Layam tonight if all goes well,” said Atma. “No gargoyles can get through the top--even in the night.”

“Let’s make this a quick trip,” said Jorlath. “I’ll feel much safer.”

The hidden path was smooth and fairly level. No great obstacles were lying in their path. Water was found in plenty from the sides of the walls. The little waterfalls, found every few hundred feet, were the homes of great ferns. Mist would rise from the ferns giving them a dream-like quality. Malchius noted how much they resembled the Sephirotic Tree. One closer inspection he found that they had no fruit. He plucked one of the fronds and began chewing it. Quickly he spat it out. It would be days before he got the nasty taste out of his mouth. Sometime in the afternoon they came to the end of the path. The familiar sands of the Layam Desert came to view again. The last few hundred feet of the path grew brighter and brighter as the top gradually separated. Soon, the five travelers found themselves blinking in the bright sun on the edge of the desert. The Gates of Layam were clearly discernible in the distance.

“We’ll rest here for a spell and fill our water skins with water,” said Myridon. “We’ll have to hurry quickly to the Gates now that we know that dragons are about.”

“Wither our plans once we venture back to Velusia?” asked Aidin.

“Nay, this time I think we’ll bypass the city entirely,” replied Myridon. “Atma will lead us back to the outskirts on the far side of Velusia by lesser known paths. Khiron has perhaps forgotten us now, yet if wind of our journey gets to his ears he may try to confiscate the Sephirotic leaves. Atma can return to his home if he likes.”

“Yes. It would be good for me to return. I miss my family very much. I should like to go to the Aeldorland soon if all goes well. I want to see this fair land of yours.”

“You may get your wish sooner than you think,” said Myridon as he stretched himself out and closed his eyes.

One hour later found them stepping on the hot desert sands. Their eyes were peeled to the horizon looking out for any great beasts lurking about. Fortunately, none were in sight. The Gates loomed larger and larger as they drew nearer. Small scrubby plants began to appear now, then a small stream. They were only a half-mile distant from their goal when Myridon pointed to the sky. Dozens of great vulture-like birds were soaring overhead.

“I wonder what lies yonder?” said Malchius. “Some great beast must lie ahead.”

“And not quite dead if the vultures are still aloft,” said Jorlath softly. “Caution friends. Keep a sharp lookout everyone. We’re not home free just yet.”



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