Finding The Soul Bridge (The Soul Fire Saga Book 1) (24 page)

Jem looked dubious. “So you don’t believe the prophecy that we are who you believe we are.”

Kelvin looked on in keen interest at the exchange but said nothing.

“Are you the people in the prophecy?” asked Uncle Tarn.

“Yes we are.” said Thist.

“Well then” said uncle Tarn as he stood up “for the first time since we settled up here, I believe it.”

Kelvin rubbed his young bearded chin in a sign of intrigue, “You never believed your own prophecy before?”

“I am merely the guardian of all these young people. They needed to believe in something, in a solution to the problem. I could not dissuade them from their beliefs so I came here to live on the cliff-side as the only voice of guidance and reason.”

“Why?” asked Jem.

“Without proper guidance.” explained Uncle Tarn. “These young people would have resorted to madness to bring forth the coming of the prophecy.”

“Like what madness?” asked Thist.

Uncle Tarn shook his head, “Idiocy mostly, like sacrifices or rituals involving self-mutilations or suffering.”

“But now you believe?” said Thist.

“You have fulfilled parts of the prophecy that I thought were impossible.”

“Like what?” asked Kelvin.

“You crossed that river, and you call yourself what the prophecies call you.”

“I think it’s a coincidence.” said Thist.

“Are we the solution to the problem?” asked Jem.

“What is the problem that is so big that you cannot solve it yourself?” asked Kelvin. “But you expect us to solve?”

“Yes.” said Thist. “What exactly does this prophecy say?”

Uncle Tarn spoke with authority.

“Three will come,

One with a bird,

One with a bow,

The other will be hard to know.

The slayer is the knower,

The bird man, a whisperer,

And the crossing by the fears

Will make; of a river of thunder 

A river of tears.”

The three friends sat silently and looked at uncle Tarn for a long time. Then after a long while Kelvin spoke. “Is that it?”

“No.” said Uncle Tarn.” It is just the part that describes you. There is a scroll wherein all is written.”

“It describes us vaguely.” said Jem.

“It seems to describe us vividly in few words.” said Thist.

“What does the scroll say is the problem for which we allegedly bring a solution?” asked Jem.

Uncle Tarn waved his one hand over the table, “Breakfast is over girls please, clean up. Come and take a walk with me and I will show you what the problem is.”

The three young men followed Uncle Tarn out of the tent and along a path to the tree line on the far side of the tent camp. The trees were tall and thick on the top of the hill. As they approached the tree line the strong scent of pine forest engulfed them. They walked into the shade of the forest and could feel the morning air become a little cooler in the shade. The forest was long and wide and stretched from the top of the hill to the ocean. The group of four crested a sparsely grown outcrop where they could look over the valley. Kelvin looked back at his friends and whispered. “That is a strange old man.”

Thist raised one eyebrow and pulled his face into a question. Jem just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

As the three friends crested the hill, they could see the mountain slope down gradually. They could see into the valley for miles. In the middle of the valley there was a large round lake and in the middle of the lake was an island with a castle on it.

“Wow!” said Jem as he stared at the castle. “Nice place, is that your real home Uncle Tarn?”

“No.” said Uncle Tarn. “That is an ancient castle, inside is the monster that is responsible for the whole problem.”

“What exactly is the problem?” asked Kelvin.

Uncle Tarn looked at Kelvin and then at the castle and back again. “It is said that the whisperer, or more accurately the soul whisperer, will liberate the soul bridge from the dragon’s mouth.”

Thist was defensive. “Dragon? A real dragon?” Thist folded his arms and glared at Uncle Tarn.

“We honestly don’t know.” said Uncle Tarn. “All we know for sure is that the soul bridge is in that castle over there. It is the key to letting souls cross over…and back, and as long as the dragon has the soul bridge the souls cannot cross.”

Jem looked confused. “What does that even mean?”

“Are there any new born babies where you are from?’ asked Uncle Tarn.

Kelvin shook his head. “Thist is the youngest person that we know.”

Jem looked at his long-time friend and nodded his head, “We don’t even know what a newborn baby looks like.”

“Well.” said Uncle Tarn as he took up a seat on a large boulder. “Let me explain the problem to you. There are a limited amount of souls in this world. When a person’s life ends, it will cross over to a place of temporary rest and when a new baby is conceived one soul will cross back from the place of rest and take residence in the new person. But this requires a free soul bridge, every world has only one. Our world also has a soul bridge and it is being held captive by the dragon. You have to free it.”

Thist looked at Uncle Tarn in disbelief. “No pressure?”

Uncle Tarn looked at Thist with a big smile. “I hope your soul fire is very strong young man, because you are going to need it.”

Thist cupped his one hand over his eyebrows as he strained to see deeper into the castle from the distance. “I guess it’s either going to be an epic fail or a very tough act to follow.”

Uncle Tarn nodded in genuine approval, “Yes, you are the ones, but what do you three guys have that nobody else has?”

Jem turned his head and looked at Uncle Tarn with the greatest air of confidence, almost arrogance, and said “The impossible can only be accomplished by people who are completely confident that they cannot fail.”

“Will you help us to do what we need to do?” asked Thist.

“We will do what we can but we just want to live in peace,” said Uncle Tarn “we don’t want to be part of a war.”

Jem looked away. “What kind of madman does?”

Thist shook his head while chewing on his bottom lip, “Dragons.” Then he turned and walked back toward the village. He didn’t look back. He just walked through the tent village as people stared at him. He walked up the slight hill to the top of the cliff and disappeared from view.

Jem asked Uncle Tarn. “Could we stay over in your camp for the day? We are weary and would like to trade some stories and possibly wise up about what you have proposed.”

Uncle Tarn nodded, “Sure. Let’s get some tea.”

Thist sat on the cliff-side, and reflected on his journey with his two friends. Jem had always been his friend for as long as he could remember. Kelvin had only been his travel companion for some weeks. “Something doesn’t fit.” Thist said to his lorikeet as it perched on his shoulder. “We were supposed to be in Fineburg at least two weeks ago.”

The lorikeet chirped.

Thist’s gut stirred, there was an internal battle going on between who he was and who he was becoming. The lorikeet spread its wings and flitted off, crossing the canyon of the raging river. It flew and flew and after what seemed to Thist like a long flight it reached the far side and perched on the roof of the derelict tavern. Thist strained his eyes to see the lorikeet again but he could not. He realized the distance between the two cliffs.

He looked back at the last days that had transpired in his life. He realized that he had done more in a short space of a few weeks than in the rest of his life together. His soul had grown and he had acquired a skill unheard of in living memory. He was destined to be something great or someone important. “Something leads us here.” he said to himself.

Nobody answered; there was silence apart from the endless, long winded thunder of the raging river. “I know what to do” said Thist out loud and clambered to his stash that was hidden under the outcrop. “You idiot voices don’t want to talk to me when I want you to, and you don’t want to shut up when I need you to.”

Thist groped in his own bag, found the magical spoon and his bag of tea leaves. The tea was soggy from poor packaging in a moist environment. He scooped the tea leaves up with the spoon and started to eat them like a breakfast snack. “Come to me!” he shouted with a mouth full of tea leaves.

He masticated the mouthful of tea leaves. They were bitter and rough like tree bark, they got stuck between his teeth but he soldiered on, spoon after spoon until the bag was empty. He wished with every mouthful that he could understand his purpose and he wished that he could command the level of energy that heroes had. He did not know what he was doing when he made such lavish, open ended wishes but he balled his fists and wished that he could be. His soul fire started to feedback on himself. His eyes glowed, his skin glowed and his skill to imbue items with magic grew in him as he inadvertently imbued himself with his own magic.

White arcs of power crawled over his skin and rolled like bolts of lightning down his forearms to his fingertips where they curled over and flicked away into the air.

“The dragon.”
said a girl voice.

“What about the dragon?” demanded Thist.

“You can take it.”
said an old man’s voice.

“How do I slay a dragon?” asked Thist.

“It’s you.”
said another voice.

“You are the one.”
said another voice

Then a barrage of voices started at him. He could hear them all. Some were shouting and some were whispering.
“It’s him. It’s you. You are the one. It is he. He is here. It was him all along.”

Thist basked in the admiration of his voices. “I know.” said Thist, “I can feel it.”

46

Jem stood at the entrance of Uncle Tarn’s tent. The air coming through the open flap was fresh and sweet and gave Jem scant relief from the smell in the tent. It was obvious by the smell that assaulted their noses that ablution facilities were either absent in the tent village or seldom used.

Uncle Tarn was relating to them a story, in monologue form, about how the village had started years ago. The story seemed irrelevant to Jem and his boredom with it had caused him to lose its thread entirely. Kelvin was still making eye contact with Uncle Tarn and nodding his head but he too was in a sympathetic juxtaposition to Jem.

Thist walked into the tent, ducking his head under the flap. No sooner had Thist entered Uncle Tarn’s tent when he received two nostrils full of village tent smell. Thist cursed without thinking. The tent went silent. The disapproving stare from Uncle Tarn was palpable. “Please, don’t blaspheme in our home young man,”

“I do apologise.” said Thist. “Are you talking about the dragon?”

“No.” said Jem. “Where were you? You were gone for a long while”

“Again, I apologise.” said Thist. “So, our journey will continue in the morning, we would like to make trade of some goods. We have some gold, not much but we could get a few things.”

Uncle Tarn shook his head. “We don’t trade in gold.”

‘Oh,’ said Thist, “who doesn’t trade in gold?”

“Well, we don’t.” said Uncle Tarn, “it creates more problems than it solves.”

“How do you trade then?” asked Thist.

“Please excuse me,” bade Jem as he stepped out of the tent.

Uncle Tarn gestured to his youngest daughter to bring Thist some tea. She was probably exactly Thist’s age. “Well son, I believe I have just told your friends that exact reason while you were out on your errand.”

“Please sir, I am curious, could you at least relate to me the short version of it.”

“Sure.” Uncle Tarn smiled at Thist. “For you, I will.”

Kelvin had reached the limit of his ability to withstand the stench and excused himself as well.

“We barter.” said uncle Tarn.

“What is that?” said Thist. “I don’t know the term.”

“We are end traders exclusively.” said Uncle Tarn.

Thist looked lost, “Okay, give me the long version.”

“Gold as a means of trading for an end is the worst thing that has come to be in our world.” said uncle Tarn “It is the cause of all our suffering and hardships, and we have chosen to live without it.”

Thist crinkled up his forehead as he considered the idea. “How does that make your lives better?”

“Gold is the means to anything and everything,” said uncle Tarn, “but nobody needs everything. Things don’t make a person happy, only people, like friends and family, make people happy. There is no need for things.” Uncle Tarn stood up and adjusted his robe and sat down again. “If I have one loaf too much of bread and you have one jug too much of milk then we can make a trade. I can share my bread and milk with those I love and you can do it with yours. You cannot eat or drink gold, but you can be killed for it. We choose to trade in end, and the work we do is to create the end, not to generate means.”

Thist could feel the explanation come full circle. “I think I understand perfectly now.” said Thist.

“You are unlikely to be killed for a cup of milk,” said Uncle Tarn as he forged on with his lesson. “A stranger is more likely to ask you politely for it, but that same stranger may very well slit your throat… for less gold than he needs to buy a cup of milk.”

Thist shook his head, “I’m confused. If I offer you a bag of gold for a cup of tea what will you say?”

Uncle Tarn laughed. “I would say that you really love your tea.”

Thist looked stunned for a second and then he caught the joke. “Maybe tea is just a means to an end?”

The irony was lost on Uncle Tarn. “If gold is all that we have, then how can we trade with you for something that we need?” said Thist.

“It is a little different with you Thist. We will do anything for you. Here, have a bag of fresh tea leaves.” said Uncle Tarn and handed Thist a bag full of tea leaves. “But sometimes we don’t need a thing in exchange for another thing, sometimes we require a service.” He continued. “We know that you are here to do that service for us and we will help you, in service, to accomplish what you have come to do.”

Thist rubbed his chin for a moment as he considered Uncle Tarns words. “Remind me what it is that I am going to do for you?” said Thist.

“You are here to retrieve the soul bridge from the dragon, it is your destiny.”

Thist looked dubious, “I just wanted to make a short trip to Fineburg, not slay a dragon! What, pray tell, is in it for you if I do?”

“Fineburg was sacked two years ago. It lies in ruins and ashes, its people are vanquished. We are all that is left of the people of Fineburg. The dragon is a real problem for us; also the soul bridge is the key. We need it to be open in order to let the souls through, without it…” Uncle Tarn looked at his daughters, “…without it we are forever lost as a people.”

Thist bit his thumb nail for a long while as he considered Uncle Tarn’s notions. “I think that despite my abilities, your expectations of me are too high.”

“It’s not just you.” said Uncle Tarn. “What we have come to believe to be the truth, is that you are a team of three and that each one of you have equal and synergistic powers.”

“Your expectations are still too high.” said Thist “How can we lay siege to a populated castle with just the three of us, and how can I of all people vanquish a dragon?”

“That is a very good question.” said Uncle Tarn. “Let me show you.” And he led Thist out of the tent. Thist was relieved to catch some fresh air. Jem and Kelvin were sitting on a large flat bolder. Uncle Tarn beckoned for them to follow. Thist shrugged his shoulders and pulled a face. They followed Uncle Tarn back the way they had come from the cliff. When they were close to the edge of the cliff Uncle Tarn pointed to the four strands of rope that were swaying across the raging river canyon. “Why did you do this?” Uncle Tarn shouted above the thunder of the raging river.

“To get to this side.” shouted Kelvin.

“Because we can.” shouted Jem.

“Why, what is the problem?” asked Thist.

“The villagers and I and everyone that I know would much rather face the dragon than to try and cross this river. We have been camping here between the river and the dragon for years, fearing the worst of both. Anyone who can cross a river like this can slay a dragon like that.”

“That is how you knew that we are the chosen.” said Kelvin. “Anyone who can cross a river like this, for fun, can slay a dragon for purpose.”

Uncle Tarn nodded his head. Jem folded his arms and considered the folly that they had committed to cross the raging river on strings. He shook his head in disbelief at his own feat.

“I don’t believe it.” said Thist. “All you have done is to create a story, to try to convince us to slay your dragon.”

Uncle Tarn looked crestfallen.

“So what now?” said Thist.

Jem turned his gaze from the swaying rope to meet Thist. “I don’t know, are you up for it?”

Thist relaxed his face and stuck both of his hands into his pockets in a casual gesture of comfort. “May as well.” said Thist.

Kelvin turned to Uncle Tarn, “Will you help us?”

Uncle Tarn gave the three a large warm smile and said. “No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” demanded Kelvin. “Don’t you want this?”

“You don’t understand.” said uncle Tarn, “It’s complicated, I will tell you what I know to help you to prepare but I don’t want myself or my family to be involved. You can call for volunteers but I doubt that you will get even one.”

Thist rubbed his chin in thought, “Fine, let’s get started. The castle looks impenetrable and the dragon sounds unbeatable. I guess that some intelligence on our enemy will be helpful.”

Jem shook his head in disbelief, “I can’t believe this.”

“Face it, Jem.” said Kelvin, “What else are we going to do?”

“I’m just sick of these surprises; we get attacked by lions, floodwater, caves, group madness, an old shaman, a jaguar.” said Jem exasperated “We cross an un-crossable river only to find that the town we were travelling to is sacked, and now we have to face a dragon. What next?”

Thist grabbed Jem’s arm, “Calm down, isn’t there something interesting waiting for you in the scrolls that the shaman gave you?”

“That’s right.” said Kelvin. “Isn’t it the blueprint of the castle?”

“I guess I could have a look at the blueprints with fresh perspective. Please excuse me gentlemen.” Jem walked away, through the tent village toward the hill overlooking the castle, carrying his knapsack and scrolls.

Thist looked at Uncle Tarn inquisitively. “This is a suicide mission, isn’t it?”

“Sure.” said Uncle Tarn. “It’s like crossing the raging river on four strings.”

Thist peered back at the swaying ropes and then back at Uncle Tarn. “I did it with one rope.”