Jehm - The Awakening by Stan Stevens

Chapter 2

The first of the senses to stir during the waking moments is that of hearing. Sounds encroach on the lucid realms long before the light of day shatters the illusion of dreams.

Loud, soft, near, far. Peaceful....

Tranquil, natural sounds peeled back the layers that clouded the consciousness. Birds sang, trees rustled in the light, cool breeze.

As the brown eyes slowly opened a flood of light washed over the perception, the pupils reacted in an attempt to reduce the sudden torrent into a manageable flow. The lungs too reacted to the sudden onslaught of reality, the broad chest heaved drawing in a draught of air. On this occasion chill and fresh. The other senses too soon followed in this foray into reality.

Smell...

Touch...

Taste...

He lay on his back motionless, allowing the happenings around him to coax his perception into step with the world in which he was waking. Feeling the coolness of the rough textured stone stab on which he lay he guessed he had not been there long. His feeling of calm jostled with a slight tinge of panic at the unfamiliarity of these tranquil surroundings. None of it was familiar. His name... he could not even think of his name.

Sitting up slowly he swung his legs around to sit on the edge with his bare feet resting on the soft grass. Muscles in his large frame flexed, pumping blood though his veins, reaffirming his position in this unfamiliar existence. The cool air blew against the chiselled features of his face and brushed through his long dark hair. Scattered around him a variety of foliage was draped over the gently rolling mossy ground. Trees, ivy, plants of all kinds punctuated the scattered rocks.

Up until that point it had not occurred to him that he was naked, the realisation only dawning on him as he noticed a neat pile of clothes by his feet. He picked them up and inspected them. They were certainly well crafted. They were made from a combination of leather and a material like thick hardwearing cotton. They were black, trimmed with emerald green and some red. In broad sections bands were interwoven creating distinct and subtle knotwork over the fabric and leather. He dressed. Once the pants were tightened around his waist he pulled on the sturdy black boots that rose almost three quarters of the way up to his knees. Three sturdy clasps on each boot secured them. Pulling the sleeveless tunic over his head and straightening it he looked over to his right, beyond the end of the stone slab where his head had rested.

There was a building.

Its wood and stone structure gave a sense of great age -- but it could not in any way be described as being in disrepair. He turned and walked towards it taking pleasure in its architecture, the love and care that had gone into its design and construction. He knocked on the thick wooden door. There was no answer. He knocked again with the same silent response. There was no lock so he pushed gently on the door which swung open on its great hinges without protest.

"Hello?" he called. There was no answer. "Hello? Is anyone there?" still there was no reply. Cautiously he walked in. The inside was spacious and uncluttered with a pleasant homely feel. On a large wooden table in front of him were a variety of items, things neatly laid out as though for a purpose -- perhaps for him, he mused. He leafed through a folder full of sketches, images of mountains, trees, rocks.... people. He recognised none of the faces depicted but felt a strange affinity with them. There were also several maps. They had obviously been added to over time with features drawn in and named, perhaps as they were discovered or built. There was also some blank paper and drawing materials, pens, ink, pencils.

The items were carefully laid back on the table and he began to explore further. He passed through a doorway into an adjoining room. It was full of empty racks, like an armoury, and as he gazed at them and wondered if weapons had actually ever been stored there. A strange sensation flooded his senses, like a distant memory he could not quite recall. He paused, inclined his head and listened intently for what seemed an age. When nothing but silence and tranquillity settled around him he retraced his steps into the first room and stood looking about him, wondering what he should do next.

Only when the silence was broken by a noise from outside did he move. Something flew over the building. The sound was a mixture of the muted thunderous roar of a great waterfall and the harmonious chant of many voices. Perhaps it was the owner returning, no doubt with questions as to what he was doing there, the answers to which he too would have an interest. He made his way outside to investigate. A few metres from the door a sleek wedge shaped craft landed, settling on a single large toed foot. Whatever strange and wonderful engine powered the craft slowly wound down. Surprisingly the birds had not been disturbed by the sudden intrusion into their space in fact, one flew down to rest on the top of one of its fins. Standing in the doorway he watched as the top lifted and three seats lowered. From the middle and foremost seat of the craft's gaping jaw the sole pilot rose. An elderly man, large and well toned despite his age, walked towards him, his long grey hair catching the slight breeze. He carried a large broadsword in its scabbard that he secured to his broad belt. The figure had an air of authority, confidence and power, his long coat flowing behind him as he walked.

"Please excuse the intrusion, the door was unlocked and..." began the newcomer by the door. The old man stopped in front of him, his neat grey beard enhancing the warm smile that now shone from his face, he stretched out his hand in friendship.

"Please, Graum, please, you were not intruding. Welcome..." he began, "welcome to Tortillon. I am Gunnalt." He pulled a corked stoneware bottle from his long coat. "Mead." Gunnalt gleamed. "By way of celebration."

"Graum?" replied the stunned newcomer.

Gunnalt passed him into the room and looked back. "Yes, that is your name is it not?"

Graum's expression of confusion deepened. Gunnalt raised his hands as though hit by a sudden revelation. "Of course, forgive me, it has been a thousand years so I forget how confusing it is at the start. Yes, your name is Graum and this..." gesturing to the surroundings, "is your home."

"My home!"

"Yes, or it is now anyway. Tinnelle has long since departed to be with Jarah. She taught me, and now I am to teach you. Her home has become yours as is the custom amongst Guardians." Gunnalt removed his coat placing it on one of the chairs by the table then uncorked the bottle."Now," he said looking around, "where did she keep the goblets..."

Graum walked slowly back into the house with a fresh view of the surroundings. "Who is Tinnelle?" he asked.

"She was the last owner of this home, a Guardian" answered Gunnalt as he scoured the tidy shelves for the goblets. "Taught by Tu-Pah herself, no less."

"Tu-Pah," Graum's brow furrowed in a frown of deepening. "Who is Tu-Pah?"

"In time, all in good time, but first..." Gunnalt cleared a space on the table for the stoneware bottle and goblets beckoning Graum to sit. He poured an amount of sweet golden liquid into each goblet and passed one to Graum.

"Here is to you, Graum. May your service to the Creator be as fulfilling as mine has been." They both drank.

"I know you have many questions as I did when I was reborn. Here..." He reached in amongst the items on the table and singled out a small folder and passed it to Graum. "I left this here for you."

"What is it?" Graum opened the folder to find several neatly written sheets of paper some with carefully drawn images.

"During my training under Tinnelle I decided to start recording what I was being taught -- all we know about Jehm and why we are here. This is the first part. I thought you might find it useful. It will answer your question about Tu-Pah."

"Thank you. But why me, what makes me so special to be made a Guardian?"

"Why any of us? It is the Creator who decides. Jarah chooses those who are to serve Her. Every millennium new Guardians are chosen at the Awakening. If you were not suitable you would not be here. It is not a good idea to delve too deeply into your past, you may not like what you find. Look forward not back."

"I could not look back if I tried -- I remember nothing. I feel as though there are so many gaps, things I should know but do not. This drink, mead is it?" at Gunnalt's nod he went on, "seems right, special, but I do not know why."

"That is quite natural." Gunnalt smiled. He drank a small amount of mead and swallowed looking at the table pensively. "Let me explain as best I can," he began, addressing Graum more directly, "the Creator..."

"The Creator," Graum interrupted, "again I feel I should know all about Her. Who is the Creator?" Graum felt a tinge of embarrassment at his impertinence. Gunnalt merely smiled politely.

"I too found myself in a strange place when I awoke and the very same questions you have prayed on my mind also. Be assured all your questions will be answered in time. You have three hundred years to ask me all you want." It was not a rebuke, but Graum got the impression that he was subtly but firmly being told that there was more than enough time to justify the exercise of a little patience. The old man collected his thoughts and continued.

"The Creator, Jarah, the Goddess, is the one who created all things, both seen and unseen. She is the one we serve. It is She who has seen fit to choose you as one of the next generation of Guardians. Ever since the Darkening She has chosen individuals to continue the work of protecting Her children, the scattered ones, from the destructive ways of Borach and his hordes -- the Aterrati -- a task that grows harder as the centuries and generations pass. Her children have short lives -- a mere two hundred years or, more often than not, less -- and as the generations pass the memory of their origins fade. As it was in the days just before the Darkening many are turned towards dark ways for answers to their existence and to ease the burdens of their lives by manipulating others with little regard for the consequences. What they do not recognise is that they are playing into the hands of Borach; it is his way of keeping them distant, denying them their proper place with the Creator. It is up to us to unmask the ones behind the deception -- seen and unseen -- rekindle the memories of Jehm as it was, as it should be, and win back those Borach would steal."

"So all people of Jehm are innocent?"

"Not all. Indeed, many innocents are led with clever words and false promises towards doom. Others know full well the consequences of their actions and who they pay allegiance to."

"Do we not need something of the dark ways to fight those who follow it?"

"No, our strength lies in the fact that we follow a path of light. We are uncorrupted, untainted by the Darkening. We, as with all the children of the Creator, were never intended to tread such a path; it is a path we cannot follow without paying a heavy price. The fabric of the world was woven in such a way that those ways, to us, are like an all-consuming disease for which there is no cure. But we Guardians bear Jarah's seal, we have Her spirit within us, so we are protected from it. You must always resist the urge to take that path; from the moment you give in you face death and will no longer be a Guardian. You will lose the Creators seal and fall prey to Borach and his followers." Gunnalt detected a glimpse of anxiety in Graum's expression at this revelation. He continued in an encouraging tone.

"The Spirit of the Creator you carry with you, your Seal, your Guide, is well aware of the dangers and will not let you fall foul of them that easily. Your Guide is an advisor, a teacher. She will give you insights where they are needed, answers where no questions are asked. Some would call it psychic ability, or intuition. Just be patient and open.

Since you cannot be affected directly by the magic of the dark ways the only means by which the servants of Borach can attack you is physically. They must either manifest into physical form, as the Aterrati, or use the bodies of those that willingly submit to their will. It is for this reason you are trained to capitalise on your already considerable strength and speed. The training is not so much an education as a reawakening: a relearning. You will find that what is required comes easily. It is for this reason that this time of training is more often referred to as nurturing. You must always remember that the people of Jehm are your brothers and sisters and you should love them as such. Reserve your contempt for Borach and the Aterrati."

"You say the people have short lives, I assume then that the life of a Guardian is longer?"

"That is correct.... we are immortal."

"But did you not say Tinnelle had... died? Yet she was a Guardian, how can that be?" Gunnalt nodded in acknowledgement of the apparent contradiction.

"Yes, that is correct, Guardians are immortal, yet..." Gunnalt's expression became more grave, "we can be killed by the Aterrati. They have weapons that bear a crest of their own devising that can shatter our immortality. With these weapons, dating back to the Darkening, they can wound us as mortally as they can any other man."

"But we can kill them also?" Graum asked hopefully.

"Yes," Gunnalt's smile returned reassuringly, "our weapons are emblazoned with the Guardian Crest." He drew his sword that rang out as brightly and as cleanly as the light that reflected from it: a light far out of proportion to the small amount entering through the windows and open door. He lay the sword on the table before Graum pointing to the knotwork design on the blade, the same design Graum bore on his shoulder.
"Though the Aterrati are immortal like us, this crest can shatter their immortality as surely as theirs can shatter ours. Our task as Guardians will only be complete once we have hunted down and killed all the Aterrati."

Graum fingered the blade pensively then looked up at Gunnalt. "How many of us are there?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

"Every awakening our numbers are doubled, our numbers now stand at six hundred and ninety two strong."

"And the Aterrati?"

"Their numbers do not increase but they are many. After the Darkening there were one hundred and ninety six thousand, eight hundred and thirty two. Now they are twenty three thousand, nine hundred and sixty five, plus Borach, of course, and twenty one of his champions imprisoned with him in the void."

"So many," Graum commented sombrely.

"Yes. Ultimately we will face Borach himself. When we have hunted down and killed all the Aterrati, Borach will be released. It is said that no one Guardian can stand against Borach alone. But I will explain all this in good time."

Gunnalt paused while Graum inwardly digested the enormity of the task facing all Guardians... facing him... and noticed the instant a sudden thought struck Graum. A dark thought that brought a new furrow to his brow.

"What if..." he began awkwardly, "what if it is the Aterrati who wipe out the Guardians?"

Gunnalt sat back in his chair, blinked slowly and raised an eyebrow.

"Then..." he began, almost matter-of-factly, "Borach is released and he inherits all of Jehm." He lent forward taking the bottle and filling the goblets once more, and in a more encouraging tone continued, "so it is up the likes of you and I, Graum, to make sure that does not happen. Now, drink."

Graum took another sip of the mead, the taste stirring altogether different concerns for reasons he could not fathom.

"So," he began, "even if I am not killed by the Aterrati I could live for..." he grasped for a finite figure.

Gunnalt recognised his uneasy searching and came to his aid. "Hundreds of years... maybe even thousands."
Gunnalt watched Graum's expression as the figure sank in.

"Thousands of years" repeated Graum with a hint of disbelief in his voice. Gunnalt beamed at Graum with an expression of reassurance.

"Do not worry, Graum. You will find plenty to occupy your time. You will certainly not get bored. Now," he continued resolutely, "to start with you must begin to learn... you must begin your Awakening."