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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item.php/item_id/2042384-The-Home-of-Fang-Ch-2
Rated: ASR · Chapter · Fantasy · #2042384
How would you react if you woke up bruised and battered in a completely unknown world?
         By the time Jess regained consciousness, night had fallen. He tried to look around to gain his bearings, but the moment he made even the slightest of movements, his head swam in circles with such intensity he thought, for sure, he would empty the contents of his stomach. His eyes immediately slammed shut and his head fell back on what turned out to be a rather comfortable cushion. The uneasiness faded without further incident, and he dared to open his eyes, slowly this time, to see if he could determine his location. All he was able to learn, was that the ceiling of whatever room he was in, was made out of a dark toned wood. He heard voices, but already they were starting to fade. The swimming sensation returned, and he was forced to close his eyes, once more. He felt something cool touch his forehead. It felt good. He wanted to open his eyes to learn more, but he was so comforted by the cool sensation on his head, his other concerns faded from importance, and he refused to risk vomiting for something that seemed so irrelevant. Beyond that, he could tell he was falling back into unconsciousness. Even if there were a threat, he was absolutely powerless to affect any change in his circumstances now. Rest would do him well. And so, he gave in.
         He was certain he’d slept only briefly. He definitely didn’t feel as if he’d gotten a restful night of sleep, and there wasn’t even the faintest memory of a dream to bring to mind. That being the case, he wanted to go back to sleep, again. This time, though, he was determined to find out something else about what was happening. So, in spite of his desire to allow his head to sink into that cushion, once more, he carefully lifted it to look around. The muscles in his neck protested, having stiffened during the process of recuperating. He ignored that little pain, but when he tried to sit up further, every inch of his body seemed to scream at him in objection to the effort.
         “Keep that up and your recovery will take much longer.” Although the source was unknown, the feminine voice was soft and gentle, but absolutely confident.
         Jess sighed in frustration and let his head fall back, again. The voice that came out of his mouth was weak, and sounded barely above a whisper. “What happened?”
         The soft voice chuckled slightly, and responded playfully. “You mean to tell me you have no memory of falling down a hill of rocks? You must have done more damage to your head than I thought.”
         “I mean,” Jess responded, impatiently. “How did I get here?”
         Still kind and still, obviously, playful, the unknown speaker answered. “You were carried.”
         He was quickly growing tired of the games, but the kindness in her voice prevented him from lashing out. He first took a breath to calm himself, and then responded, again. “But that hill is what I’m asking about. How did I end up on that hill?”
         The hidden female lit some incense. The familiar scent of lavender combined with a sweet, crisp, slightly fruity fragrance carried through the room. Jess was immediately eased by the pleasant fusion of the two floral aromas. When the kind stranger had finished lighting the incense, she spoke in an even softer, more soothing, tone than before. “Your body has been through more stress than you realize. I promise you’ll get the answers you want. Right now you’re just too weak. For the moment, you just need to rest. We can speak more when you wake up.”
         For Jess’ part, he found it extremely difficult to argue against her advice. His head felt heavy on the cushion. His eyes burned, begging him to close them. His breathing slowed to the rhythmic tempo of an unheard lullaby. Finally, then, he gave in, and sleep overtook him, once again.
         The door opened, and the man who had been the one to retrieve Jess from where he’d fallen on the gem covered hillside came in and looked at the mysterious nursemaid.
“How much longer?” He asked.
         She shrugged. “That’s a difficult question to answer. We weren’t able to get to him as soon as I’d hoped. His wounds are extensive.”
         The man stepped in further and looked appraisingly at the weakened man lying on the bed.
“He doesn’t look that bad to me, Alaana.” His voice was very matter-of-fact, though not without a hint of compassion. “He only fell down one of the gemmed hills. It can’t be all that bad. As soon as he can stand he needs to join us.”
         “Is that Jacho’s word or your own, Desmon?” Alaana’s voice abandoned all the gentleness she’d been using previously. Heavy sarcasm took its place. “You’re right. He ‘only’ fell down one of the gemmed hills. Never mind the fact that those gems were activated at the time, so they forced three of the most unstable energies in the whole of creation to course through his body. And let’s just ignore the fact that his fall down those charged stones only came after he’d been dropped through a planar vortex that was so unstable it had to be forced open by a wand of Espalon, which was what activated the gems, in the first place. And, of course, it’s totally irrelevant that we can add to all this the fact that he hadn’t been given any instruction on energy manipulation, or warning of what was going to happen, which left him literally no chance to protect himself, at all. None of that matters, right, Desmon? Because, after all, he ‘only’ fell down one of the gemmed hills, didn’t he? I tell you what. Why don’t you stick to your responsibilities and let me stick to mine?”
         By this point, Desmon’s blood was boiling. He hated it when Alaana spoke to him like that. It happened somewhat regularly, and it wasn’t fitting for someone in her position. Ultimately, he knew she didn’t intend to verbally attack him, but he had to remind himself of that before attempting a response of his own. Otherwise, this conversation would just devolve into little more than a bickering contest, and that would be counterproductive, to say the least.
He closed his eyes, slowly drew in a breath, and released it. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to presume I knew better than you about his care. Jacho did want me to remind you that it’s important he recover quickly.”
         “Of course it is.” She snapped back, but her voice carried a much cooler fire than it had just a few moments before. “Now if you’ll kindly leave me to my work, I would appreciate it. He still has quite a way to go.”
         Desmon nodded and left through the only door, the same way he’d entered. To the north of the single room of the wooden structure sat an absolutely beautiful landscape. The little building sat almost in the exact center of a series of smooth plains of turquoise grass, which were speckled with an intricate rainbow of colorful flowers. There were layers of every conceivable color of roses, irises, lilies, tulips and half a dozen other flowers that would be unrecognizable to anyone from any other world. Even though many of them would normally not bloom at the same time, each type of flower seemed to be caught in the peak of its visual display. Further north, beyond the flowered plains, were rows of plants that resembled juniper bushes. The telltale berries were the same shade of blue, and had the same gentle abrasive texture as that of a juniper berry though the pine-style leaves were a dark shade of orange instead of deep green. This contrast of color made the plants especially easy to spot at a distance, which was precisely where Desmon’s eyes fell as he stopped a few paces outside the door to the makeshift clinic. He inhaled deeply through his nose. The air was heavy with the fragrance of all the various nearby flowers. It helped to calm him further.
         “Why so downcast, Desmon?” A strong, but caring, voice asked from a few feet away.
         Desmon looked over to see Jacho leaning against the only tree anywhere nearby, a few yards to the west of the building. He, like Desmon and Alaana, still wore the hooded crimson robe with the white sash that he’d been wearing when the trio watched their patient fall down the gemmed hill. His hood was, also, still draped over his head.
         “I would rather not trouble you, Jacho.” Desmon turned his head toward the door of the building for a moment before looking back over at Jacho. “It’s a personal affair.”
         The big man pushed off the sturdy old tree and moved toward his companion. His smooth steps made it look like his extra-large frame was simply floating and he closed the gap in no time. He rested a hand that matched the size of his body on Desmon’s shoulder.
         “I guided both you and Alaana into The Order. While we ultimately still all serve the Maker, I am both yours and Alaana’s mentor. If I can help, even in personal matters, there is no reason you can’t come to me.”
         Desmon nodded and glanced back over at the door, again. Then, he lowered his head and sighed.
         “I’m concerned for Alaana’s commitment to the Maker. She often displays characteristics not fitting to a member of The Order. Just now, when I relayed your message to her, she got very angry and lost control of her tongue.”
         “Is it conceivable, Desmon, that you failed to approach her as appropriately as you should have a sister of The Order?”
         Jacho always had a caring tone when he spoke to those he mentored, but when teaching a lesson such as this, he was also rarely anything but serious, and his insight was uncanny.
         The red-headed man nodded solemnly as he tried to recall the past few minutes from as unbiased of a standpoint as he could manage.
         “I suppose that’s accurate. Does that make her justified in her response?”
         Jacho shook his head as he gently patted his friend on the shoulder. “Nothing would be capable of granting justification to a wrong action. We can only choose to forgive them. In that light, you must keep in mind that you have been in The Order for several years. Alaana has only recently come to use her skills in service of the Maker. Be careful not to forget that you had similar issues when you first came into His service. Even now there are times when you struggle with reigning in your words.”
         “-Remove that which obstructs your view first, so you will have clear sight to aid your sibling with their obstacle.-” Desmon quoted from their sacred tablets.
         “Precisely,” came the response of the mentor. “So, I suggest you spend time reflecting on this experience. Study the sacred tablets and come to a resolution quickly.”
         A serene silence fell between the pair. A soft, fluttering breeze rolled across the plain from a set of distant hills, which were too far away to be seen from the men’s vantage point. It seemed to last for days, and yet it also seemed to be gone after only mere seconds when the door to the clinic opened, and Alaana stepped out.
         Both men looked over to her as she leaned heavily against the wall, clearly exhausted. She turned her head and noticed the curious look on both of their faces. She knew they wanted to ask how much longer it was going to be, so she simply shrugged.
“Nothing more to do now than wait.”
         “But the threat of death has passed?” Desmon questioned eagerly.
         Alaana nodded confidently. “It’s like Jacho told me earlier. He’s the one we were sent to retrieve. If the prophecies said he would be used, then he’ll be used.”
         Jacho smiled behind the shade of his hood. “Well said, Alaana. Well, then, it seems we wait.”

† * † * † * † * † * † * † * † * †


         It was difficult to remember if the lights had been so bright before, but they were definitely bright now. That was his first thought upon waking up. The lights were bright. Jess sat up squinting. His muscles ached, and his head pounded. He was bruised all over, and it took him a minute to process what had happened. He looked around the room for clues. It was a one room hut, all wood, with the bottom half of glass orbs inserted into the ceiling to act as skylights. Each was like a miniature sun floating just feet above his head. That explained the level of brightness in the room.
         Lining the wall were intricate paintings, each a masterful work of art depicting landscapes that looked to be out of a dream. Below each of the paintings were shelves filled with jars, vials, bottles, books and dozens of tools, all used for medical applications. On the far end of the room from where his bed sat, was a round table and four chairs, seemingly all made of the same type of wood as the building. Everything was meticulously organized and cleaned. It looked so clean, in fact, Jess got the impression that if he were to wipe down any surface in the room with a wet rag, the rag would only come up cleaner than before.
         A deep sigh escaped his chest. The only way he could be here, was if he really had fallen down that hill. “Then it was real.”
         “I suppose you were hoping it had been another dream?” The voice may have been kind, but that didn’t stop it from scaring Jess.
         He’d been looking away from the door when it opened, and since it hadn’t made any noise in the process, the unexpected voice was quite startling. Jess looked over to see who had spoken, and he was no less intimidated. Jacho walked in first, hood still over his head, followed by Desmon and Alaana. Jacho spoke, again. “How do you feel?”
         He wasn’t anywhere close to being ready to answer their questions. “Who are you?”
         The answer came calmly enough. “I am Jacho, of The Order. These are my companions, Desmon and Alaana.”
         Jess eyed each of them slowly. His gaze stopped on Alaana. “You’re the one who was taking care of me?”
         She nodded. “That’s right. You’ve recovered well, as we knew you would.”
         “What are you talking about? What happened to me?”
         Desmon spoke up before either of the others had the opportunity. “I don’t know if this is the best time to go into too much detail. There’s a lot to go over.”
         Alaana moved across the room and grabbed one of the tools, which looked like a stethoscope with only one ear piece, and went over to Jess’ bedside. She placed one end on the back of his neck, and held the other in her off hand, while placing her strong hand on his forehead. She concentrated momentarily, then removed the device and looked over at Desmon. “He deserves to know what happened to him, and I promised we’d tell him after he woke up. I can’t imagine going through that much and being expected to just wait for answers.”
         Jess was dumbfounded. These people obviously knew something. The problem he found, was that he was in too much of a state of shock to know how to ask them what they were talking about.
         Jacho smiled and gave Desmon a playful, though somewhat rough, pat on the back. “She brings up a valid point, brother. Alright then, so be it. Everyone find somewhere to sit. We may be here a little while.”
         The three members of The Order all grabbed chairs from the table and sat in a semi-circle around the foot of the bed. Jess sat up and readied himself as much as he could. He wasn’t sure how much good it would do. His previous mental preparation hadn’t factored in falling down a hill of shiny rocks. Still, he tried.
         “Okay.” Jess spoke up. “So who’s going to tell me what’s going on?”
         The big, hooded form of Jacho leaned forward a bit in his chair. “I guess that duty falls to me.” He cleared his throat, took a deep breath and began slowly. “First, I need you to understand something. You have just been through a much more traumatizing experience than you are aware. You have slept for the past two days, because it was not just physical damage that was done.”
         “Wait. What do you mean?” Jess was genuinely frightened. He tried to not let it show, but he was positive that his efforts came up short. “What else happened?”
         Jacho proceeded to explain to him all that had happened, in much the same way that Alaana had broken it down for Desmon. Jacho, however, used a much kinder tone than she had. It took the better part of an hour, breaking down each step, in sequence, to get Jess to begin to fully grasp what was happening. Even so, his questions were unrelenting.
         “So then, what’s the deal with the three energies?” He asked with the same passion as he’d had at the start. “You said it took three unstable energies to bring me here. Why three?”
         Jacho answered that question with the same authority he’d been using for all the rest. “What we refer to as energies, you would likely understand more easily if we utilized the term ‘magic’. They were three different types of magic. The three colors you saw in the planar vortex were the same color as the stones on the gemmed hill where you fell. The energies were stored in those gems by the Maker. The blue from the sapphire was time energy, used because it was necessary to draw you through time. The white from the opal was space energy, used because it was necessary to draw you through space. The black from the obsidian was the most unstable of all. That is the energy that is used in energy manipulation. It can alter the effects of nearly any other type of energy. If done incorrectly, it can end with horrific results.”
         “Okay, so I’ve been pulled across space and time and brought to a different world in some other period of time from when I’m used to living. Fine, that explains the blue and white.” The tone Jess was using was surprisingly accepting of what he’d just been told. But he was still on a mission to gain information. His face hardened and he glared at Jacho. “But you still didn’t give me a reason for the black. Why was an energy that can manipulate other energies used? What needed to be changed? ”
         Desmon and Alaana looked at each other with a knowing expression. It was clear they weren’t happy with the thought of Jess learning the answer to that question. Jacho leaned forward more, reached up, and slid his hood to the back of his head. Jess’ eyes went wide as he stared hard into the exact same steely gray eyes he’d seen on his neighbors back porch. Sure he was younger; his skin was smoother and his hair was a dark brown rather than white, but it was definitely him.
         “Mr. Drake!?”
         Jacho nodded. “Jacho Drake, is my full name, yes.”
         “So you’re what needed to be changed?”
         This time Jacho shook his head. “No. Not me. You.”
         “Me?” Jess was beyond perplexed. “What do you mean me?”
         “Jess,” Jacho answered. “There is so much more you need to know.”
© Copyright 2015 R. Michael Wood (deaconmission at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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