Episode 5: Pools of Contemplation

As he journeyed on, he came past lush green meadows and verdant hills. Having stood atop the last of them, he saw in the far distance a pearl-white house that exuded a brilliant glow even in the midst of sunshine. It beckoned to him. He thought about his journey since he left Sunflower Valley and how he had danced with the sun and sung with the stars. He had been living off bread and Aletheian silver berries that occassionally grew by the brook. As the house called out to him, it bade him rest and company, a welcome change for the price of traversing the Way to the City of Truth.

Past the last hill, he came to a field with pools of water that displayed a glimmering tinge of orange-pink under the setting sun and restful sunset clouds. The scene looked like manifold puddles covered with copious dewdrops, though it was obvious that it had not rained at all. They were a natural feature of the majestic Aletheian landscape, their stately presence bearing a tale of the One who goverened them. In their midst was a large bright lake. Though the waters were still, they were not stale. They conveyed the same freshness as the brook, perhaps indicating that the lake served as a summer inlet for the living stream. The beauty of the pools caused the traveller's heart to observe a sacred silence. He drew a breath, contemplating yet another grand sight. He decided to camp by the pools since it was getting late. The stillness of the waters urged him to partake of that same rest. The visit to the pearl-white house could wait.

Stopping at a pool near the lake, he laid down his haversack. Sitting at the edge of the waters, he gazed deep into the pool. As the wind blew upon the surface of the water, they seemed to change colour and glow, almost as if they danced with the wind. They, too told a story. While the restful sensation came over him, he became aware of the message of the pool. He drew his eyes closer towards the golden-blue waters and observed the silent ripples made by the cool evening breeze. As he sat there with his heart open, he suddenly became aware of a boy within the waters. It was not as if the boy was actually inside the pool but rather, the careful silent glow of the pool revealed the boy's figure, almost like a moving painting, upon the silver surface of the water. He felt a certain sense of affinity with the young lad, as if he had known him somewhere before. The deeper he rested, the deeper he saw. The deeper he saw, the more vivid the child became. The picture seemed to move as one with his heartbeat. As the excitement of this new mystery unfolded before him, his heart paced faster towards clearer strokes of the boy's motion. As both of them ran together, the crescendo of the silent waves told a story.

He saw the boy riding a most interesting contraption. It was a machine with two great wheels that characterised it's unique frame and feature. Both the wheels were of very unusual form; the middle was formed by a scorefold or so company of silver arrow-shafts linked onto a semi-malleable black outer rim. As if this wasn't enough of an enigma, both wheels were joined together by what seemed to be an unusual variant of dark iron fetters. He looked at the boy more intently and saw the delight upon him, as the wind met his fragile face as he sped through roads by means of his contraption. Before the traveller could ponder how unusual the road surface was, his attention was diverted to the unusual ecstasy of his experience gazing at the figure in the pool. Part of him wanted to remain gazing at the scene lest it should vanish, while another wanted to peer through the other surrounding pools to see if they should likewise yield a similar experience. His curiosity got the better of him and he walked over to gaze through another pool.

He came to one shimmering in sunset and lilac... and he stilled himself to behold. His eyes met expectedly with the same boy. But the boy was not riding his contraption anymore. This time, he was in an awkwardly, almost ridiculous, greenish outfit... and with a number of other like-apparelled boys and girls his age. They were all looking to him expectantly, as if he was about to do something majestic with another unusual contraption. As the traveller beheld it, it begot the form of an unusually curved golden pipe, with inconsistent diametrical bearings and a number of golden buttons of various sizes along its surface. It seemed to have some kind of a labial function and-

"Aaaarrrrrgghhhhhh!!!!!" the traveller cried as a wolf sank its teeth into his arm. His scream shattered the evening silence.

He spun around, caught unaware by his antagonist. He attempted to regain his bearing after the sharp, stinging pain had overtaken his poolside reverie. The wolf, having released its grip, marched a few steps backwards, maintaining its steady gaze upon the traveller's agitated eyes. By now, it was dark and the silver moonlight leapt off the edges of the wolf's spear-shaped fangs. It surveyed the traveller, having stalked him for days, awaiting an opportune time for yet another confrontation.

The traveller receognised it from his rescue trip with Farmer Mandy. By now, its slingshot wound had festered. The wolf, having brooded over the wound and dwelt on its sweltering pain was now ready to repay him. He noted that his rod was with his belongings by the other pool and he knew that before he could make a run for the weapon, chances are he would have been arrested by the creature. The stillness of the night was being pierced by a very deafening silence- each party eagerly anticipating the other. Suddenly, the wolf lunged at him. It had narrowly been almost successful but now the traveller dashed his way to retrieve the cudgel. The wolf cunningly retreated into the evening shadows.

The travller surveyed the scene, sure that the wolf had not yet left. Sure enough, he was met by another pounce, which he narrowly dodged. He took his stick and attempted to fend it off. Though he managed to strike a few blows, the wolf remained resolute despite its festering sores. It still had strength nonetheless. Meanwhile the traveller grew weary with every swing of the cane, the sting upon his right arm greatly weakening his ability to wield the weapon. He spun the stick southwards but the wolf dodged it. The wolf then came upon him in awesome force, even more than what the wolf had intended. Instantly, its fangs nearly met with the traveller's face, if not for the fact that the sheer force of the lunge attack sent the both of them plunging into the deep centre lake, descending into the darkness of the night.

The traveller was exhausted, his foe momentarily... elsewhere. The water soon overtook him and entered his system. It all happened so fast in the darkness. He struggled to maintain his buoyancy, and even more so, his senses, but it seemed that the more he struggled, the deeper he sank, until he was overtaken by a greater black than the moonlit night... his eyes, tightly shut.

He found himself in a world between worlds, where reality and reverie seemed to meld together. As he progressed within that world, his eyes shot open and revealed a realm which was not Aletheia. It all seemed familiar to him, and yet strange at the same time. He knew it was real but it seemed that Aletheia more real than where he was. In it, he was in a bed with white linen... He was in white linen.. There were flowers by the side and he heard a distict pulsating sound.. though he did not know where it was coming from.. within the scene was scattering of unusual mechanisms not found in Aletheia. At the opposite end of the room, he could make out six figures. Five of them seemed very familiar to him... almost as if he had known them all his life. The sixth was a tall and lanky figure, almost as enigmatic as that entire scene. And though he didn't seem to fit, he seemed to have known him too somehow... from somewhere in his younger days... As his consciousness stirred in the linen bed, the six became aware of his movements. Very soon, there was a light but distinctively positive commotion. Two more people came into the scene and made their way towards him. As they approached, his eyes started becoming heavy. He barely noticed that they were two ladies, dressed in white, crowned with what seemed like white diadems of fabric upon their heads. He did not see their faces for he felt an unusual rest coming upon him, coupled with the familiar scent of lilies carried by the cool evening breeze. His eyes met with a deep sensation of slumber. Aletheia called back to him. Very soon, he was at the world between worlds, the white linen bed almost like a forgotten imprint etched in the darkness, a faint echo from a distant tune...

His head re-emerged from the surface of the lake, as if by an invisible hand. His frame had been drawn upwards and kept afloat until he had, as presently, laid hold of the edge of the embankment and pulled his well-marinated body onto dry ground. He then remembered the earlier brawl. His opponent nowhere in sight, he made haste for his haversack and pushed his exhausted self once again upon the path, towards the pearl-white house. It was still dark and the knowledge that wolves travelled in packs propelled him forward. Though his adversary seemed to have been momentarily dealt with, he knew the others were close by. He picked up his steps and rushed towards the safety of the house.

Though he found temporary relief, he was still uneasy. He was tense yet his mind found the means to wander and contemplate the scenes which he saw... the boy and his unusual contraptions... the white linen bed... He seemed to have a language for what he saw but he could not access it. It seemed part of another, different lexica of another, different world. It was then that he suddenly recalled the dream that he had previously at Sunflower Valley. It likewise placed him at the heart of that very same mystery.

There was more to the land than he thought.