Creus(Full Book)

Part 9

In the morning, the monks let them leave with some more food and they went on their way. Dew dropped from every leaf, plunking into ready puddles. New-made waterfalls drained into a lake surrounded by hills. Trees sunk deep into the blue water, and fog covered the skies. The tide rose and foam whirled onto the shore. Thin clouds streaked across the morning sky. The earthen floor grew spongy as it lay soaked in rain.

They found the road again. It rolled forward past the trees and into a timeless vision. They balanced upon a cliff that led unto a grassy valley. David stood for a moment, and sat onto the ground. They watched the sun thin as clouds passed. They heard the birds chirp in the light of the sun... With a shout forward, Bernard ran down the slopes and into the valley. Osmond walked behind, the only one closest to Bernard. The rest waited, Darrell going behind them all. David shivered in the wind, but followed Bernard.

The long grass bent beneath their feet as they cleared a path into the valley. Bernard smiled at the sun, and gazed at the clouds. At times, something fell over Bernard, making him stop and contemplate, but he would continue. David followed closely with his bag tightened against his back.

Journeying up Pnoaphales, but resting after the sun flared, enveloping the sky in its inferno. David smiled at the sun, nodded to it. Once they had journeyed far enough, they sat against dusty monoliths. Bread crumbled as David twisted a portion from a loaf. He crunched it down, softening some pieces with water.

They lay in the yellow fields, and passed under the sun's eye. The Prophet watched over them all, with a great pupil surrounded by shattered blue spreading out into the world. The Prophet! He leaned toward the sun, with heat crawling through his body, and the cold fading away. The forests no longer blocked the sunlight. It went to them all, with rays, beams, in empyreal colors.

Soon, their journey ended atop the mountain. The Prophet sat above this world on Pnoaphales. What would he discover from the Creator of majestic mountains and seas? Everything. No more death for the world. Life had no end anymore. He journeyed for everyone. For Bernard, for Darrell, for the dead Denton, for life... Then, from the absurd chaos, order would arise.

David lay below it all, laying on these wheat stalks, laying with eyes closed, laying with visions passed in his mind's eye. Memories. Running and rolling down the hills. Laying under the sun. Talking to the Men of Deer and Laphanists, who talked around tables. How great it would be to go back in time... But, he lay in the stalks, with a beard falling down him.

They stepped up, picking at the stalks before them. The forest loomed over them, and the sun met midway into the sky. A bridge crumbled, leaning over an infinite abyss. They walked past it, and into a path. Tattered ropes hung on saplings. Leftover campfires lay with white ash and fire-eaten logs.

After the path, they reached a lake. Sprawling in its size, seething in water, spraying foam into the air. A man with his boat stood in it. A wonderful boat, he stood on. All painted in white. The floor curved in the center. Then a metallic plate stood on the bow, bent to form a shape resembling a swan's neck. Curling outward from the stern, a bent bronze plate stood. The ferryman's paddle waded in the water. Osmond walked to him.

"Money?", the man put out a hand, rough with blisters, covered in the salt of the sea and worn from the wooden oar.

"I've got a few...", Osmond pulled a few coppers out of his bag. Showing them to the man, "Here you are. I need to go to Pnoaphales"

"Sit." The man patted the boat. David stepped into it, sitting on the bow. All of them entered, one by one.

The ferryman held the oar and pushed against the ground, propelling it into the water, the boat skimmed across the lake, and the boat moved, without hurry, adapting itself to the lake.