Standing at the obelisk looking down at the burning castle, DanDan's gaze drifts into the middle distance as clarity like a dove descends from the blue wash of the sky, making everything clear. Freedom of thought, self determination and authentic fr...
After a few minutes in the idyllic beauty outside the garden wall, Daniel looks down at the golden skate shoes, mercifully still hanging around his neck, stands up. Crossing the bridge, he walks down to the moat.
Gently washing the remaining crud from the shoes he can see more clearly the map and symbology moulded into each shoe. Placing both shoes on top of the water just enough to wet them, and then pressing them into the silt of the moat's edge, he reproduces the map that has remained hidden in obscurity since the shoes were hung in the tree.
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Tiddlepuss and the others join him and gazing upon the map Jackson declares, 'If these shapes are mountain ranges and these lines are rivers, then I know where that is. I know that mountain range and those two rivers, I was in that country last year.'
'How far away is it?' asks Dan.
'From here? I estimate at least three week's journey, quicker if we take the mountain route, it will be an arduous journey, and we will need provisions.'
'Provisions?' questions Daniel, 'Where will we buy Provisions?'
Anaximander standing and looking back down the road turns to the group and says,
'Well this road leads to the garden - it must lead from somewhere, and where there is somewhere there will be something, and something usually means people. So I would suggest our best chance at buying provisions is somewhere down this road...wouldn't you agree?'
⦽
After nearly three weeks of trekking, climbing, and forging rivers in fortunately good weather, the map leads them to a hilltop. Denuded of trees, windswept, lonely and rising from the midst of a dense forest they are exposed to the elements and exhausted. The sun is setting on a cold and rainy day with low cloud, mist descending down through the trees and a solitary star peeking through the cloudy evening.
At the top of the hill stands a weathered obelisk about six feet high, a cold sentinel to the passage of time. On first sight, they stop in their tracks and then approach cautiously exchanging looks of uncertainty. The Obelisk has a silver plaque on one side, dusty, not shiny. Whatever markings may have been on it have been worn away by the elements.
'Is this it?' asks Daniel, 'Is the treasure here, should we start digging?'
'It can't be here,' comments Anaximander, 'Bill has access to the treasure and there is no sign of any activity here.'
'Could he have moved it somewhere else?'
'Then why leave the Obelisk? No, it must be yet another clue, another signpost along the way that leads to the haven.'
'Why isn't it clear, why shrouded in mystery, why more clues to unravel, when will this end?' protests Daniel in his weariness, his shoulders dropped and head hanging down.
'We should make camp, let's find some shelter and make something to eat.' says Anaximander in his assuring tone that means all is not lost to the exhausted boy.
