Seed of Reason

GAVIN MILLS

PURITY

Seed of Reason

Copyright © 2023 by Gavin Mills

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or localities is entirely coincidental.

Gavin Mills asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

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Third Edition

FOR MY FATHER

The most honorable man I have ever known.

CONTENTS

Foreword

BOOK TWO

A Time To Choose

1 Prologue

2. Dark Horisons

3. The Belly of the Beast

4. The First Week

5. Words In Jest

6. The Day on the Square

7. Purity Suffers

8. Seth To The Rescue

9. Gilbert Meets Angus

10. Skye Hears All

11. Plans Are Made

12. The Eve Of The Quest

13. Gradlock Gets Word 63

14. Gilbert Sets Forth

15. The Demon Unleashed

16. The Story of Crystal Dew

17. To Make a Traitor

18. A Seed Revealed

Foreword

WHEN THERE IS NOTHING LEFT TO LIVE FOR IT IS EASY TO DIE FOR SOMETHING.

Contemplate the talents you have and underestimate not the strengths nor the weaknesses of those that stand against you. Though clouds of oppression hang dark and looming, it is the bond that exists between all that lives which holds the key to tomorrow’s gate. Return to the heart of evil and let the revelation unfold. And remember, plant not reason in barren minds. Sow where the seed may thrive... in the heart of chaos and the belly of the beast.

BOOK TWO

Seed of Reason

I

A Time To Choose

1- Prologue

Tomorrow Gilbert will return with the Seed of Reason, or Joss and Elizabeth will die - tomorrow. Either way, this hell on Earth will end - and incredulous at it seemed, Joss felt relieved.

It wasn’t so much the size of the cell, or the putrid filth - or even the horror of tortured screams. For Joss the worst was being deprived of freedom, knowing that his life was slipping away one second, one minute ...one day at a time.

He rose slowly on tortured limbs, the filthy floor and rancid humidity rendering futile any efforts at comfort. In the corner by the scarred wooden door he sank back to his haunches, his back to the wall. He hardly noticed the muffled screams anymore, echoing through the labyrinth of corridors outside. How long had it been? ...He had no idea.

He glanced down at the wasted woman coiled up on the floor beside him. Starvation, deprivation and abuse had ravaged her once beautiful body, now a pitiful pile of sweat, grime, torn flesh and tattered rags. But her face... After everything, still a picture of serene beauty – even more so while asleep, when the fear and hopelessness in her eyes could not be seen. Gently so as not to disturb her, he stroked her matted hair and felt the hatred rekindle within. He could endure whatever Gradlock and his lackeys chose to inflict on him, but what kind of beast could do this to a woman ...What manner of demon could do this to this woman - Elizabeth, his wife! What in the name of the Gods was he thinking, to leave the Valley of his birth - where his father was born, and his father... Where he had grown up and taken a wife. The Valley where he had been blessed with two beautiful children. What had he and his family done to deserve this?Was it really less than a year ago? Couldn’t be too much longer. And then, the city of Horizen. The New Order ...The realm of Gradlock, evil incarnate. A world conceived in good, but corrupted to a state where the rights of man were luxuries enjoyed only by a privileged few.

He thought about his children. Where were Gilbert and Purity? Were they safe – or even still alive? Would they return tomorrow as was ordained? Do they know the horrors that await them?

He shut his eyes and steadied his breathing. He had to be strong. No matter what, he had to be strong. Hopeless despair and self-pity would solve nothing. He just had to wait. Until tomorrow...

2 - Dark Horisons

Gilbert was jostled awake by the hard wood of the wagon digging into his side each time they hit a bump. He had no idea when he dropped off or how long he slept. He only remembered the darkness all around, and the unnatural silence.

His mother and Purity were still asleep in the wagon and his father was where he had been since their departure, facing the front, quietly steering Toby towards the city. He could half recall other wagons joining them all through the night, and squinting into the glare of the rising sun, became aware that they were now in a procession stretching ahead and behind as far as the eye could see.

Although the sun was already oppressively hot, it was masked. The same as when it shone through clouds, but these were not clouds. It was a sky brushed a yellow-brown haze, deepening in hue towards the horizon ahead. It was as if everything was a different shade of the same color of hopelessness.

Gilbert was not used to seeing the world like this. Far ahead at the limit of his vision was a dark unnatural shape he could not quite make sense of, lurking in the deepening smog.

“Papa, we have entered the fog.”

“I know my son, I know.”

The broken trail they had been following had become a wide, well worn road. Gilbert had heard before of the wide roads leading to Horizen - the Megacity - but he had no idea they were this grand. It was eerily quiet considering the number of wagons and families. The only sounds, the squeaking of wheels and the occasional exclamation from an exhausted mule. The shape in front of them loomed larger, closer. A dark, dirty smudge with streams of black smoke rising from it.

“Papa, is that the city?”

“Yes my son.”

Joss’s voice betrayed his emotions. As they inched closer, so the city took on form, holding them awestruck by the sheer magnitude; too captivated to look away, too afraid to speak, too scared to cry, too desperate to turn back.

Horizen was encircled by a massive stone wall, towering above the cleared land stretching to the surrounding thickets outside. Directly ahead, a giant iron and timber gate was dwarfed by a menacing arch, which somehow looked to Gilbert like a monstrous snake about to strike. Flanking the arch were two formidable towers with small windows all the way up, lit like demon eyes. And assaulting the silence, an incessant rumble. as if the city suffered.

Somewhere ahead, they heard the tortured grind of metal on stone as the gates opened outwards to reveal to most, their first glimpse of the Megacity. It was grey, oppressive and dirty, by far the largest city most had ever seen; and the stink - like dirty feet and wet dogs - was nauseating.

“What is that smell papa?” Gilbert called from inside the wagon where he had gone to help Elizabeth with Purity.

His father never answered... and then Gilbert knew: it was fear.

He clambered out, joining his father at the reins. A troop of what appeared to be monstrous men on horses came charging towards them from the gates. The boy squinted into the morning glare as the horsemen approached.

The terror was clear in the eyes of horses straining under their weight, as the ghastly creatures moved from wagon to wagon, scrutinising all heading for the city. Never in his life had Gilbert seen such ugly creatures. They were as tall as two men and wider than a barrel. Thick mattered brows hung low over bloodshot eyes in mottled flesh above hairy nostrils; beards like wire and wrinkled necks. They had arms like tree trunks and calloused hands ending in stubby fingers with filthy broken nails. Every so often, an unlucky soul was wrenched from a wagon. The lucky ones were thrown back into the throng, but some wretched souls were taken - sometimes with family - and tossed into dark cattle wagons that entered the gates when full ...and returned empty.

“Dear lord, Elizabeth, they’re trolls!” whispered Joss.

“Trolls don’t exist, Joss.”

“Silence!” snarled the biggest in a harsh, guttural voice. “We do not exist? Then I must be your worst nightmare. I will tell you once and you will never forget...”

He dismounted and sauntered over to the wagon, lifting the side tarpaulin and leaning in. Thick yellow saliva dripped from a festering mouth with breath of decay,

“I am McMalice, ...and these my men, of the clans McFear, McGreed, McEnvy and McHate. Welcome to Horizen, seat of the New Order – Retreat for the damned"

The trolls exploded into laughter. Rasping, snorting, insane cackles sending shivers up the spines of all near enough to hear, to see.

“Greetings, I am Joss of...”

“Silence you pathetic little man! Do you presume we care? Move, move! What kind of a pathetic mule is that?”

The trolls all turned hungrily on Toby.

“Leave him be!”

A small voice came from the wagon. Elizabeth moved to muffle Purity, but it was too late. Mc-Malice stopped and turned back towards the voice, seeing the little girl held fiercely by her mother.

“See here... What a delicacy! She’ gorgeous? May I eat her ma’am?”

The troll lowered his head, smelling Purity hungrily.

“Stay away from my child!” Elizabeth snapped like a frightened puppy.

Alarmed and scared Joss leapt in front of her. In a second, a long, wiry troll was at his neck, breathing putrid sulfurous breath into his face.

“Back you vermin! In here you are my dog and I eat dogs, so shut up and kneel before me or so help me I’ll suck the juices from your skull and feed your eyes to my pigs!”

“McFear, leave them be... He will learn his place soon enough.”

It was the large troll called McMalice again, “Now get them inside!”

Then McMalice spotted Gilbert, tucked behind his father’s arm. He stopped dead and stared, drilling deeply into Gilbert’s eyes. The boy was terrified. He saw something in this hideous creature that he could not quite understand. A presence.... Abruptly McMalice turned on his heel and gave the order to move on.

Such was the welcome for new arrivals to Horizen the Megacity, vision of Rezden, son of Agtril, and home of his New Order.

“We have made a mistake, my love,” whispered Joss.

It was the first time in his life that Gilbert had ever heard fear in his father’s voice.

3 - The Belly of the Beast

The gates thundered shut behind them, blocking out the afternoon sun as an ostentatious carriage appearing entirely of gold, trumbled towards them from the inner city. Frenzied wolves, growling and slobbering, were harnessed to the front with silver chains, while inside the carriage surveying all, a small bony man in a long black cloak, with stringy black hair pulled tightly to the back of his head. His eyes were like black beads and his long, pointed nose looked translucent blue against his ghostly pale skin. Thin black lips formed a frozen smile as he eyed the convoy, hands clasped before him exposing impossibly thin fingers ending in long, sharp nails.

“Silence!” McMalice screamed the order. “Hail Gradlock, Head of the Supreme Council!”

Everyone around stopped what they were doing, and bowed their heads. There was silence - except for the incessant rumbling which seemed to permeate this strange new world.

When he spoke, his voice was like dry ice.

“New friends... Welcome! Welcome to Horizen, the answer to your prayers. Please... Come with us. You will have no need for your wagons. We trust you have come here for new beginnings, a better life? McGreed... Burn them and get rid of those mangy mules. They fester with disease.”

He meandered down the line of wagons, slowing every now and then to cast his eyes on a terrified new arrival. Arriving at Joss standing with his family, he stopped and turned towards them.

“Welcome...” his smiled at Joss through red glazed eyes.

It was like being stabbed in the face. First the intense pain, then dull scratching behind the eyes, as though he could feel Gradlock inside his head.

“...Joss - and your beautiful family, Elizabeth, Purity and...”

Gradlock stopped. He stared at Gilbert, eyes gleaming with concentration. He could not reach within. The boy’s name alluded him. Suddenly in a rage, he lunged forward and gripped Gilbert’s arm:

“What is your name, lad?”

He felt a desire to squeeze the life from the child but resisted, intrigued.

“Gilbert,” answered the terrified boy, his arm immediately discolouring under the pressure of Gradlock’s bony grip.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man...,” he hissed, releasing his grip and turning to McMalice.

“Do keep an eye on this one... He is ...special - I would hate anything ...untoward to happen to him.”

The look in his eyes would have flayed the skin off a brave man.

Gradlock climbed back onto his carriage and turned with a flourish to face the subdued gathering of new arrivals:

“I am exceptionally pleased to welcome you to Horizen. Please, if you encounter things not to your pleasing, feel free to speak. Our duty is to all our citizens – all of you! And I hope and trust you will enjoy your new life here with us. The gracious McMalice and his esteemed cohort will show you to your new homes shortly. Please remember that levies will be collected each month on the day following full moon. Thank you.” And he was gone.

The trolls dragged protesting families from their wagons, discarding their belongings to the ground. All the wagons were assembled quickly into procession and steered towards one of the dark side streets.

Gilbert squealed in terror as McHate dragged the protesting Toby in the same direction, but no one else spoke a word. All were too terrified to protest. Not one person of the families that had entered the city dared voice a challenge.

Carrying everything they still possessed, Joss and his ex- hausted family were led through a maze of damp, smelly streets lined by houses stacked almost on top of each other. Every now and then sullen faces peered from behind half closed windows and derelict doors in dilapidated structures looming precariously over the rough cobbled streets.

Every so often someone would empty a bucket into the street, the filth running freely into cobble paving cracks before seeping into the steaming blackness of the sewers. Although not one house was exactly the same as the rest, they all smelt the same – damp and dirty. Zigzagging deeper and deeper into the bowels of Horizen, it suddenly dawned on Gilbert: Not one plant, one sign of life - or growth! Nothing but battered decay and malignant filth.

“Please sire, you move too fast,” Joss pleaded with McMalice lumbering ahead. He and his family were struggling under the weight of the few possessions they were allowed.

On entering the city Purity had experienced an excruciating bout of coughing so Elizabeth was carrying her, gasping and floundering with the exertion and falling behind. McMalice turned blood-shot eyes on the struggling woman.

“Is this why we wait?” Gesticulating at the miserable child on her mother’s arm. “...For this?”

He grabbed Purity savagely by the scruff of her neck and ripped the child from her mother’s grasp, holding her aloft much the way one would a puppy. Elizabeth stood dead still and spoke quietly, but her eyes projected murder through her fear.

“Give me my child or I will have your eyes,” she hissed.

McMalice hesitated. ...Studied her thoughtfully.“My eyes...”

The other trolls were watching him.

“Might be a trade worth considering,” he scoffed, “but maybe on some other day. Here... Have your wretched mouse,” tossing the limp Purity to Elizabeth like a rag doll.

Joss frowned as he turned back towards their heading. A cruel and petrifying creature no doubt, but was that fear or sympathy in his voice? Whatever, Joss was thankful the moment had passed leaving all unscathed.

There was more traffic now. More carts, people, industry. Even hints of frivolity. Suddenly, a dog came charging around a corner and knocked Gilbert nearly off his feet.

“Stupid child!” barked the dog and carried on running. Joss dropped his burden in an instant and sprinted to Gil’s aid. He lifted his son and hugged him protectively while the trolls bellowed with laughter.

“I’m OK Papa ...I’m fine.”

Gilbert wrestled free and started picking up his scattered load.

“I’m fine. Really.”

They passed under a stone arch and stopped in amazement. Before them, hoards of people hollered and jostled, this way and that. A space of trade, a space of recreation. A grand promenade. A space where almost a half century before, Maxmillian had sworn an oath to Fletch that an ancient well would be conserved, for the free citizens of the New Order.

Running the full length of the square, grand buildings rose behind grandiose arches. Buildings which they would later learn, were the seats of state, the Supreme Council, and all those at the helm of commerce, trade and industry. And there, center stage and dominating all was the Clock Tower ...thick, high, and overwhelming, with a massive copper clock ticking away the days, one second at a time. But in spite of the grand testaments to man’s genius and innovation, that which caught and held all their attention was the tree. A single oak tree, standing just off center beside the well; the only vestige of nature they had seen since entering the gates. The only sign of nature they would see at all, in the Megacity of Horizen.

It was an old tree, with rugged branches and hard leaves. In front of the tree was an ironwood bench and the ancient stone well. The well was beginning to show early signs of neglect. But in spite of appearance, there was a strange... presence. Gilbert staggered. The energy from the well as he faced it, was like a physical force.

Purity suddenly woke on Elizabeth’s shoulder and maneuvered impatiently for a view. She frowned for a second, and then her sleepy eyes twinkled into a glorious smile. She giggled with glee, waving towards the old well.

McMalice glanced at the gurgling child, and followed the subject of her attention.

“Insanity starts young in these times,” he scowled. “Move! Time is wasted.”

A tall dark woman with dark eyes and disturbing demeanour sauntered towards them from the Clock Tower.

“I have the keys to your dwellings.”

She was obviously bored with her lot in life. However, it was welcome relief from the troll’s aggression. Joss lowered his eyes as he took the keys. Why were the trolls in such good spirits ...a sense of anticipation? What scheming do they know of - that we as yet, are unaware of, Joss was thinking.

Giggling hysterically the trolls converged on the family like hyenas, grabbing from them what little they had left of value.

“Empty your pockets!” McMalice growled, obviously displeased with the meagre takings.

“My lord,” Joss tried to protest.

“I am not your lord! Come to me!”

McMalice grabbed the man’s sleeve, pulling him off balance. Joss was bewildered by the incredible force and strength of the troll. Before he could respond, McMalice ripped, and the hip pocket of his old weathered jacket was no more. A small package, neatly wrapped and bound in fresh linen, dropped to the rough stone sidewalk.

Joss lunged to retrieve it, but McMalice, moving with a dexterity belied by his size and weight lunged too, locking the man’s head in a vice like grip.

“Not in front of my children. I beg of you.” Joss pleaded, truly believing the troll was going to crush his skull and spill his brains. He could not believe the incredible strength.

“Take it. It is yours, but unhand my father,” Gil screamed, picking up the package and offering it to McMalice.

Amused, McMalice studied him for a second before releasing his grip and surprisingly delicately, reaching for the trinket.

“Now what have we here...” McMalice looked even more menacing when he smiled, shifting beady eyes from one to the other. He picked at the acquisition, growing in frustration at the futility of his efforts.

“Please sire. It is of no value to you but immeasurable sentimental significance to me,” Joss pleaded.

“Be quiet you pitiful little man!” he barked, turning to Gil.

“You! Unveil this secret your father so treasures – and need I suggest you take care? We would not wish to tarnish whatever treasure it might contain.”

Hands heavy, Gilbert slowly removed the linen wrapping. His eyes flashed recognition - for only a split second - as the cloth fell away to reveal a shimmering disc, just smaller than the palm of a man’s hand, but beautiful and finely crafted.

McMalice snatched the artifact from Gil’s hand.“...And we have...”

He suddenly stopped and studied the object as if mesmerized.

“I know... I heard from...”

He flipped the object over like a coin, holding it close to his face as he studied it.

“Gruff! It cannot be...”

In total disbelief, McMalice was mouthing the inscription over and over when he became aware of the quiet and the eyes of all, man and troll, watching him.

“Where did you get this!” he barked.

Joss was terrified.

“It was a gift, sire”

“From who?” the livid troll roared“

A friend deceased,” Elizabeth interjected.

She was staring at Joss, willing him to shut up as it dawned on the farmer: It had been given him by Poulus. And Poulus too lived in the city. If the trinket had a legacy which could bring harm, best lay the legacy to rest where it could not be found.

McMalice shuffled closer. “Deceased...”

He stared at Joss for a long time, and then smiled.

“We will talk of this later.”

And without another word, he pocketed the trinket – a beautiful compass crafted in gold inscribed with ‘Gruff’ – and walked away.

Entering a narrow archway, they faced an insanely steep flight of stairs. The trolls assisted with their last remaining possessions, and as they mounted, Elizabeth could hear her precious things cracking and breaking up the rickety stairwell. McMalice stopped and fumbled with the bolt at a derelict olive green door. McEnvy growled just beside them and lashed out viciously with an iron studded heel, exploding the already

tattered door inwards.

Purity who had dropped off again, jolted awake by the commotion and burst into tears.

“There are no ablutions here – Ask your neighbors, and you will find what you need for this precinct.”

McEnvy knocked Elizabeth comforting the terrified Purity, almost off her feet, barging into and virtually destroying the already battered door as he turned to leave. The flaking walls were covered with dark grease stains, and the floor was moldy and sticky. The hearth was caked with grey brittle paste where the last fire had been doused and forgotten about. The iron fireplace was rusted. A leprous old mattress balancing on crumbling bricks just about filled the entire space of the small enclave supposed to be a bed- room. All window awnings were remnants of tattered calico, harnessed in obscene ways, directly to the walls.

“Dear Lord, Joss. Is this our destiny?”

Tears welled up in Elizabeth’s eyes.

“We will make this work, Beth. We have to...”

This time his voice did not betray the anguish and trepidation he felt in his heart.

4 - The First Week

The first week in the city was the most miserable any of them could remember. Joss was collected before light the very first day, and herded off with the rest of the broken men living nearby, being put straight to work feeding the great furnaces conceived by Jessop.

Elizabeth was left to turn the hovel that had been allocated to them, into a home. Completely out of sorts in his new surroundings, Gilbert hovered near her, helping here and unpacking there, but more in the way than of much help. Back in the Great Valley, she would have told him to go play outside, and he would have been gone in a second, but here, wallowing with the dregs of existence, she would not dare risk the boy moving too far from sight.

And as for Purity. Her health continued to deteriorate. Her head was stuffy, her bowel movements had become sporadic and extreme and she had developed a wet rasping cough.

“It’s the foul air,” people close by told the mother. “They all go through it at first. She will adapt,”

But Elizabeth remained doubtful.

It was in the fourth week, late one evening as Joss rested his tired bones, that a knock at the door announced a visitor. Joss and Elizabeth locked anxious eyes. They had learnt quickly that unexpected intrusions seldom heralded good fortune.

Before either of them could move, Gilbert was at the door. “Uncle Poulus! Greetings!”

The young boy threw his arms around the bulbous man. Joss and Elizabeth leapt to their feet. They embraced and exchanged greetings as Elizabeth invited their friend to join them for dinner.

“Nothing would give a ravenous man more pleasure than to dine with you, but unfortunately, I must decline,” Poulus apologized. “Alice has prepared our meal and I cannot dally. But am here to invite you. There will be festivities at the Clock Tower Square in two weeks time. A lot of folk from the old country will be there. We break bread and share stories, and it keeps us in touch with our lives, our friends and our sanity. We would be honored if you would join us.”

Gilbert jumped up and down with excitement. At last they would get out of the dingy old hovel and could enjoy some space.

“The honor would be ours,” Elizabeth smiled. “Who all will be there and what do we provide?”

“There will be a lot of faces you may or may not remember. They are all people who like us, have lost all and have come to the city under duress. Of us there will be myself, Alice, Ernest – he’s living with us now - and our children. Bring an old blanket, some food and some mead, and meet us before the midday hour near the restored well by the oak tree. Ask for directions if needed. It is known to all.”

“The Clock Tower Square?” Joss asked. It was much too close to the quarters of the Supreme Council. To Gradlock. Joss thought back to the encounter at the gate.

“Is it permitted?”

“Yes - and not really,” Poulus answered, “but the trolls turn a blind eye. I believe they feel as long as we fraternize by the light of day, we do not pose a threat. I must leave. Will you come?”

Joss walked the three short steps to the front door. “We will be there my friend. God speed.”

“God be with you too, Joss,” and he was gone.

5 - Words In Jest

Gradlock sipped dark red wine from an elegant bronze chalice, unimpressed as he watched the jester’s ludicrous antics around the ostentatious Supreme Council chamber.

“Bravo!” he cackled with bored sarcasm as the jester sang and rhymed and performed his show, his shrill voice echoing round the cold stone hall. The Council chamber was dominated at the one end by Gradlock’s magnificent, strategically elevated throne opposite a cavernous hearth large enough for a man to enter without bending. Above the throne hung a coat of arms with the insignia, ‘In Power We Trust’, and rustic copper flares along the walls cast flickering reflections off stuffed trophies of the hunt, ancient armor and implements of war arranged haphazardly around the room.

The jester stopped abruptly. He seemed to listen like one would to whispered advice, then turned and groveled up to Gradlock.

“What I say is in the stars, and in the stars is what will be. Would the great Gradlock have the valor to hear what they say will be?”

Gradlock scowled, caught a little off guard. He fidgeted irritably as he considered the question.

“Speak joker, and tell me what it is you see. Tell me what the stars say will be.”

“Beware the young tree, a young boy and old soul, with bad blood.”

The leering smile on Gradlock’s bony face turned to stone.

“Beware the stream of bad blood! It comes from another time and it is the time. It is he who shall turn the world, and all men and beast alike. For though blood was spilled and the path lost, a heart beats now to the rhythm of the Universe. No might will stop it, no fright will kill it, beware the young tree of bad blood!”

Gradlock exploded in a frenzy.

“Speak plainly jester!”

“I say what I know and I know what I hear. And I fear what I hear, for what I hear is the coming of a Hearman, beware the young tree of bad blood!”

“Out! Get out! ...Now!”

Gradlock was seething. His mind raced back to the boy he had encountered at the gate less than a moon before. The boy whose mind he could not read. The lad whose arm bruised instantly in his grip. He turned to McMalice and whispered into an ugly, wax-filled ear: “Keep your eyes on that child... He is not what he seems.”

6 - The Day on the Square

Purity’s condition had become of growing concern, deteriorating even further when Joss was transferred to the mill. The coughing had become so bad at night that Elizabeth feared she might have contracted a palsy. Mother and father would take turns at her bed, burning oils of lavender and eucalyptus and massaging her tiny chest to dispel the violent spasms thrashing at her body. They stood by and comforted her but their hearts grieved watching powerlessly as she fought valiantly for breath.

Even a respected physician, known to Ernest and reputed to be of the best in Horizen, had given counsel. But far from curing her, his endeavors although providing some relief, shed no light on or solution to the cause.

Even though exhausted from the day, cursing his helpless- ness, and raging at the Gods for their nature, Joss despised not knowing what was to become of them. And he prayed for deliverance from this hell on earth, and for the health of his little girl.

Life in the city was neither worse nor better than the worse Joss had feared, but was far worse than anticipated by wife and offspring. But still the small family remained brave and resolute, strong in the love that held them so close. Joss marveled at Elizabeth. She showed a strength in adversity that he never knew she had. He knew that if it wasn’t for her, they would never have been coping as well as they had. And it made him love her ever more ...Love his family more.

Slowly the days passed and in an inexplicable way, their lives settled down into routine, and eventually the day of the festival arrived. Gilbert was up first. He could hardly contain his excitement. Even Purity rose with a clear head for the first time since they had arrived. The young girl walked around mimicking her brother poking his head inside every few minutes, asking,

“Is it not yet time? We should not be late?”

Joss, helping Elizabeth with the lunch hamper and old blanket, just smiled. It would take more than this terrible place to destroy his family. Of that he was sure.

Not a second too soon for Gil, about an hour before noon, Elizabeth declared herself prepared and ready to leave. They got lost twice en route, but after stopping for directions each time, were soon back on course, and it was only a few minutes after lunch that they arrived at the square. There were crowds of people of every shape and form. Gilbert squealed with delight, and Purity clapped her hands with joy. There was an almost carnival like atmosphere, tainted only by the presence of two trolls lurking in the shadows watching every move.

Some of the people Gilbert remembered from the Valley, some not. Elizabeth nearly burst into tears when Poulus ap- proached with Ernest. Once all introductions were done, while the women prepared the spread for lunch, Joss, Poulus and Ernest ambled over to the old bench by the well, talking about the old days - and the future. Gilbert and Seth, posturing like two young colts strayed slightly behind.

Seth was holding stage, trying to impress an unimpressed Gilbert with his expansive knowledge of the workings of the city. Gilbert smiled feigning interest, but in reality was about as interested in the inner workings of the city as he was in flying to the moon. Listening with one ear, his attention was drawn to a strange creature approaching from the avenue directly opposite the trolls. It looked like a character from a child’s tale: a strange cat with a royal disposition, a patch on one eye and an artificial leg.

Timor was making perfectly sure he kept the bench between himself and the trolls. Rumor had it Gradlock knew he was alive, but there was a cold unspoken truce. Like the calm before the tempest, he thought bitterly. He slinked up to Ernest, loped easily onto the bench next to him, and rested his head on the man’s lap.

“And this?” Joss chided. “I could see you with a hunting hound, but I never would have believed I would see you petting a cat. Especially an old warmongerer such as this.”

“Meet Captain,” Ernest smiled as he massaged the cat’s ears. “He came to us just before Josephine passed. If it wasn’t for him in those early days ...I don’t know if I would have had the strength.”

“What happened to him?” Joss asked as Seth moved closer.

“That is a long story for another day, but he and I have both suffered and grown strong together.”

“Will you keep him?” asked Gilbert overhearing the end of the conversation as he returned to announce food was served. The cat lifted his head and looked at the boy. This one was also different. Like the lady they called Alice, but stronger.

“He is not mine to keep. In fact after his recovery, I believe he made it his mission to keep me. How long will he stay? I don’t know. As long as he wants... He will always have a home with me. But I cannot help feeling he is staying simply because he thinks I need him. It is as though there were something he must do, but his allegiance keeps him here. I wish I could somehow let him know that I am okay.”

He stroked the cat with love from muzzle down to his amputated leg.

“That’s my Captain.”

Ernest was the only being alive that Timor allowed to touch his missing leg.

The conversation fizzled as the trolls sidled closer. Gilbert’s curiosity was further aroused as with feline elegance, almost simultaneously, Timor slid from the bench and slinked away. This was interesting. What secret made the cat sideline the trolls?

After their meal, man-talk switched back to trials and tribulations of life in the city, and Gilbert stole away unnoticed and made for the shadows where Timor had disappeared.

“He says it’s okay if you go, you know.” Gilbert said casually.

It was as if the cat, sprawled in the shade of a low balustrade, had been shocked by lightning. He shot straight up, the hairs on his neck flared like a porcupine. Gilbert had to suppress a smile. He loved talking to animals that didn’t know. Every time bar none, the reaction was the same.

“Who are you,” Timor hissed. “From whence do you come? Who sent you. Are you of Gradlock?”

Gilbert chuckled quietly. “Relax Captain. I am not of Gradlock. In fact, I do not like Gradlock, and I do not like this city. I am from the Great Valley and my name is Gilbert”

The cat eyed him with suspicion, then looked across at Ernest and Poulus bantering with the boy’s parents and relaxed.

“I have to take care. I am ...marked.”

“Marked?” Gilbert inquired. “By who. For what?”

The cat turned away.“Be careful what you ask, be careful what you think and be careful what you say. This city is not a safe place...”

“What happened to you. I hear you were attacked ...by savage hounds”

“Ah mon ami. The dogs were the weapon, but they are not the enemy.”

“I don’t understand...” Gilbert squatted down next to Timor against the sun drenched wall.

“There are some things that should never be discussed, and some things that should, ...but only at expedient times.”

“Do you have ...a calling? Business yet unfinished?” asked Gilbert.

“Ah... Old Ernest is a perceptive man. You can convey my thanks... Do I have to go? The answer is yes.”

“So...?” Gilbert leant closer, waiting expectantly.

“Let us just say ...I have a quest. There are truths to be unveiled. Scores to be settled.”

Gilbert’s mind was racing when Timor addressed him again. “Tell me Gilbert, is that child your sister?”

Gilbert looked back at Purity giggling and rolling on the blanket with the other kids.

“Yes. That is Purity”

“Ah yes of course,” the cat nodded, “Purity... Has anyone ever told you about a legend around these parts?”

“Legend?” the boy cocked his head slightly.

“The legend of the Seed of Reason”

Gilbert was trying to recall – he had heard talk - when Timor became tense and purred in a whisper.

“The trolls move in this direction. I do believe it is time for me to depart. I will see you again soon, young Hearman. A bien tout – and Timor: That is my name.” ...And he was gone.

Gilbert stood up and headed back to their party, the trolls directly in his path. He lowered his eyes to the ground, desperate to avoid their attention.

“Idle minutes with a crippled cat can sometimes lead to undesirable consequence, m’boy. Am I not right?” one creature sneered as he passed. Gilbert fought back panic and the urge to run.

“Look at me when I speak t’you boy. I said...”

“Gilbert! Come here now! I said this minute!” Elizabeth’s voice cut like a knife

She glared at the trolls daring argument. Gilbert hesitated, frozen with fear as the trolls turned to his mother. One lifted a monstrous scaled hand as though to speak, but the second, less enthusiastic with the attention they were attracting, stopped him. Making little effort to conceal their contempt as Gilbert scampered to his mother, the two trolls turned and lumbered back towards their posts.

“What were you doing you silly boy?” she hissed.

“Sorry. I know. I was talking to the cat”

“What cat?” Joss asked.

Gilbert ignored the question walking straight up to Ernest. “He says thank you for what you have done. He says thank you for understanding, and he is glad that you have weathered your suffering. And shortly, with your blessing, he will take your leave.

”Ernest stared at the boy, as dumbstruck as his parents and the friends. “

Who, my little man? Who says thanks? Who will be leaving?”

Gilbert’s face was serious. “Your cat... He told me so. And by the way, his name is not Captain, it is Timor.”

7 - Purity Suffers

“They are destroying what’s left of the forest to keep the furnace running. Everything! The forest that provided us with food and shelter for generations is being raped and burned to keep this city alive.”

“How can you be sure...”Joss slumped back and breathed deep of the bitter sweet aroma rising from the steaming brew Elizabeth had just prepared. He sipped, testing before indulging ...and closed his eyes in ecstasy as the warm liquid washed dust and grime from his mouth and throat.

“I know! It is so unjust. No wonder the Gods are incensed! And nothing can be done. We have no choice. Oh Elizabeth. I am so sorry. If I could do more...”

Elizabeth caressed his hand, letting him speak.

“Samuel from the eastern side of Collingwood stopped loading... He too was sickened by what we are doing. He was flogged Elizabeth. Beaten to within an inch of his life.”

And then they heard Purity, screaming, coughing and convulsing in the next room. Elizabeth was up in a heartbeat. Moments later she screamed, “Joss! Come! Now!”

Purity was not breathing. Her eyes rolled back and her little face was turning blue. Her tiny body convulsed and thrashed wildly.

“The doctor! I will summon the doctor!”

Joss sprinted out leaving Elizabeth desperately kissing Purity softly on the brow.

“Please don’t take her from me. Please don’t let the city take her from me,” she pleaded over and over.

Three hours later Elizabeth emerged with the doctor from the small dimly lit back room shared by brother and sister. Father and son stood just outside waiting anxiously. After a few hushed words with Elizabeth and the doctor, Joss turned to Gilbert...

“She is sleeping, my boy. The physician will come tomorrow. She opened her eyes and smiled a few minutes ago, but the doctor has given her something to ease her chest and help her sleep.”

Gilbert heard the grief in his father’s voice.

“Papa, she will improve. I know it,” he whispered, as much seeking reassurance as giving it.

Joss forced a thin smile, kissed him on the forehead and followed his wife back into Purity’s room. The next few hours were long and tense, as parents kept vigil and Gilbert listened...

Even when silence and tranquility finally settled, he could not sleep. Quiet as a ghost, he dressed and tiptoed to the front door. His parents had succumbed to their exhaustion. They would not wake easy. He stole down the battered stairs to the street, not sure of the time: day or night, light hardly changed in the slum - but he knew for certain it was still night. He could not believe the city could be so empty or depressing. His mind drifted to Alice and the growing fog. Was this really the source of the fog? He knew the answer...

He slumped on the bottom step. It was cold but he did not care. He closed his eyes and in his thoughts, could see his old home with thatched roof and rough stone walls. He could hear the wind singing about spring, and smell the jasmine floating in the air. The forest danced to the wind and in the distance he could see the blue Providence surging to the Greatmist Falls... He could hear Purity giggling and his father’s full belly laughter and his mother humming as she hung out the washing.

Gilbert sat there for ages, his heart heavy and his eyes grew sore counting the moss covered bricks making up the cobbled paving, tracing the cracks around an old storm-water drain. Sudden movement deep down the drain caught his eye. In the darkness, he could just make out a tiny pair of beady eyes watching him intently. Curious, he leaned closer, but in a tick the beads were gone. Gilbert lent low to the ground, peering into the blackness - and the next second, crashed down onto hands and knees almost with his face in the drain, as a monstrous dog collided into him at full gallop from behind. It was the same huge dog that almost sent him flying on their first day in the city.

“Stupid child!” barked the dog.

“You are stupid! And I’m not a child!” Gilbert snapped back.

The hound stopped in his tracks; turning to look at Gilbert rubbing the mark left on his knee from the hard cobble paving. He cocked his head in disbelief. In the darkness, Gilbert could not see the comical look on the dog’s face, or the bruise he knew was forming.

The dog was monstrous, a dark tan with a droopy bearlike face. Without doubt one of the biggest dogs Gilbert had ever seen. His teeth were huge and fearsome, but with head cocked slightly, one ear erect and one flapping over, eyes the size of saucers and a prancing gate not unlike a circus pony, and Gilbert couldn’t help but be amused.

“You speak dog?” the dog asked in disbelief.

Gil felt his hackles subside. This comical creature could possibly shed a different light on life in Horizen.

“I speak doggish, cattish, rattish, birdish, fishish.”

“Fishish???”

“Shhhh!” hissed Gilbert, “Keep it quiet! I do not need trouble.”

“Well ...how long have you been here?” asked the dog.

“Here as in here, this spot? Or here as in here, this city?” Gilbert answered mischievously.

“Here as in the city! He thinks he is smart too! What are you, a spy? Have they sent you to keep your eye on us? Is that why you are here?”

“Here as in here, this spot? Or here as in here, this city?” smiled Gilbert.

“Aaaargh! You are impossible!” barked the dog.

“I have to go, my mama will be looking for me.”

“Wait, what is your name?”

“What is yours?” asked Gilbert.

“They call me Truman,” said the dog.

“They call me Gilbert,” winked Gilbert as he turned and headed for home.

The dog yapped with excitement, his tail more wagging the dog than vice versa. He stopped. “Come back! Hey. G-gilbert!”

Truman paced back and forward, looking to where Gilbert had disappeared.

“Angus must learn of this! Yes! I must inform him. It must be a sign. Angus will know... Angus! Angus!”

Truman scampered at full speed for a good few seconds before finally finding traction on the sodden cobblestones and careering down the dimly lit alley.

8 - Seth To The Rescue

Elizabeth was waiting for Gilbert when he returned. “Gil! What are you thinking? Do you not see we have worries enough?”

“Sorry mama. My head was in a turmoil. I went outside so as not to cause disturbance...”

“To bed, young man, and no dallying.”

Gilbert undressed as quietly as he could and climbed into bed. How long before day he had no idea, but his mood had lifted. Life in the city might not be so dismal after all.

Gilbert woke up with a start, no clue how long he had slept. A strange man spoke in low tones with his mother in the living area. It had to be the physician for Purity, which meant it had to be day. Gilbert greeted the man politely.

“Take care of your mother and sister big man, they need you,” the man smiled as he bid farewell and left.

Gilbert saw the physician to the street below and returned in high spirits - until he saw his mother’s tears.

“What’s wrong mama” Gilbert asked softly, panic building inside. “Purity... She will get well?”

“We hope so,” the distraught mother whispered bravely.

Joss returned from work early that evening. The trolls had not taken kindly to his request, but the man no longer cared. Father, mother and son ate in silence when Elizabeth served dinner. While Elizabeth cleared up after the meal, Joss bantered weakly with his son, trying to lighten the heavy air.

“It is your bed time, good sir.”

Understanding their worry, Gilbert bid his parents good-night and a few minutes later, was washed, tucked and still. Believing the children asleep, Elizabeth related what had transpired with the surgeon.

“But surely they should have some idea...” Joss reasoned softly.

The worried couple sat side by side at the old dining table, unfocused eyes staring straight ahead at nothing. Gilbert lay silent in his bunk, straining to overhear the whispered conversation.

“There is no outward infection, no sign of... He says it is almost as though she has lost the will to live. She wilts in the same way as our world. It is this cursed place! How else can you explain her condition since we arrived?”

“Then let’s go back.”

“We can’t Joss! I do not have to remind you, surely!”

Gilbert strained to hear, intent not to miss one word. His mother sobbed:“My eldest child is as brittle as china and my baby carries the pestilence of the world! Why? Why? Why? Why is God punishing us so! I prayed and prayed for years for someone to look after Gilbert when we are gone... God knows he needs that... And we are rewarded with a child even worse off? Who will look out for Gil? How is he going to look out for Purity? If she were to die...”

“Shhh, Elizabeth. You will wake them. I know your concerns. But it is no use torturing yourself with questions for which there are no answers. We must just be brave and have faith.”

“Faith!” Elizabeth hissed as she began sobbing once more. “In what? I don’t want it! Do you hear? I don’t want it!”

Gilbert gripped the bed so his knuckles showed white. Was it his fault? Was he to blame for Purity’s sickness? If he were not so weak then... The thought was too much. He needed air. Without a sound, he tiptoe-ed to the front door. Like a mouse he eased it open and slid outside and down the crumbling stairs. And then he ran.

He ran and ran, until his lungs were on fire. Sobbing so hard he could hardly breathe, he kept running, and running. Left, right, straight, right, bumping people, animals, he ran and ran - and sobbed and sobbed, until he could run - or sob - no more.

He stumbled to a stop and looked around, trying to get his bearings. It was almost dark and he started to panic.

“Control yourself you silly boy,” he rebuked. “It is a city, nothing more. Control yourself!”

“Dear dear dear... Lost are we, my boy?”

Gilbert spun towards the voice.

“Poor, poor lad... Lucky you caught the eye of old Lexon then, isn’t it”

A porky man with crooked teeth smiled through ice-dead eyes, mincing towards him on boney legs.

“Can I be ...to your service perhaps?”

Gilbert had learnt not to talk to strangers, but here for all to see? ...And he needed directions. He started towards the stranger.

“Sire, I...”

“...Am waiting for a relative - who would be arriving shortly – before being escorted by the same to the parents of said, for dinner. ...And what have we here? The said relative’s much anticipated arrival... Greetings Gil. I trust you have not been waiting long?”

Gilbert stood bewildered. “Seth?” he uttered in surprise.

“Yes my friend – and we are expected. We should go...” turning back to the stranger, “Thank you for your gracious charity, sire. You are too kind. Have a splendid evening.”

Gilbert scampered behind with Seth tugging him along by the arm. Once out of range, Gil yanked free from Seth’s hold. “What are you doing Seth!”

“I am protecting your naive little rump, my friend. A word of gratitude would be in order...”

“For what?”

Seth stopped and looked at him.“This is not the Valley – and even if it were true you speak to the winds, this is still not the Valley! Do you think that pervert’s intention was to assist? Grow up little boy. This is not the Valley!”

Gil slowed his stride.“Yes. This is not the Valley...”

“Come. You need time to look, listen to your spirit, and think...”

Seth led him down some obscure back alleys until to his delight, they finally emerged on the familiar terrain of the Clock Tower Square.

Gilbert slumped down on the bench beside the well. That intriguing well. Seth approached the ancient stone void, peering into the hollow darkness.

“I must return home – truly.”

“And I should not be out,” Gil mumbled“

But you are, and you have spiders in your head. Clear the cobwebs and the spiders will move on.”

Gil smiled.

“Do you know your way home?” Seth asked. Gil nodded.

“Go home. I am fine... ...And Seth. Thanks.” Seth smiled and left.

A bat suddenly rocketed from the well, just missing Gilbert.

He jerked back and watched the bat flutter off into the mottled sky. As he followed the bat’s departure, he noticed two small dots of light in the oak tree just above eye-line. Another pair of eyes! He could not see who or what they belonged to. He could only see small specks of light reflected from the oil street-lamps evenly lining the square.

“Silly child,” said the two eyes, in a soothing, controlled voice.

9 - Gilbert Meets Angus

The dark shadows behind the eyes slowly took form as Gilbert’s vision adjusted to the darkness. It was an owl, with long white eyebrows framing a chubby face, grayish blue and puffy.

“I am not silly. Why does everyone here have to be so rude!”

The owl ruffled his feathers, not unlike a pinecone with a beak. His response concealed his surprise; “Perhaps you are not silly. That remains to be seen. ...But if you are not silly, who might you be?”

“I am Gilbert.”

“Ah. Your reputation precedes you... My name is Angus. Angus Owl... son of Fletch. But you can call me Angus.”

“Thank you for small mercies,” Gilbert replied sullenly.

“Small mercies maybe, but mercies all the same, my young friend. By what stroke of misfortune have you landed in this place of the damned?”

“By what stroke of misfortune? By the decree of the Gods. By the absence of choice. ...My family came here when the forest died.”

“Ah! Hard times for man and beast alike. The consequence we suffer together, but tragically the cause rests firmly on the sloping shoulders of those that have forgotten how to care.”

“Us humans?”

“Your words, not mine,” replied the owl. Angus changed direction: “My young friend. How many others that you know have the gift which you flaunt so flippantly?”

“Gift... What gift?”

“Ah the innocence of youth. The ignorance of the young... Now how shall I put this...”

Angus thought for awhile, scanning the derelict buildings stained by the dregs of the stale street lights.

“Yes... Yes... That will do... What am I?”

Gilbert was puzzled. “Why, you’re an owl.”

Angus smiled. “Well yes... You could have said a fine feathered owl, but I will accept your mundane reply. I am an owl. How many people do you know who can speak to owls?”

“Including everyone I know?” Gilbert replied, unable to resist his mischievous humour.

“Including everyone you know.”

“Well let me see... None – except me.”

“Exactly!”Angus fluffed himself out imperiously. “You know what we call humans like you?”

“Weird?” Gilbert shot back.

“...That too” answered Angus thoughtfully, “But no. Through the ages, there have been others like you. Rare and in obscure places. But there have been others before. And the name for those like you is: Hearman.”

“Hearman?” Gilbert was intrigued.

“Whoo!” Angus swayed back and forth, reflecting “And in all my years, you are only the third true Hearman I have met!”

“Hearman...” Gilbert tried the word on his tongue, his mind racing over the implications of this revelation. He was not alone! There were others...

Angus continued, “In this world there are many different forms. There is the sun, wind, rain, plants, insects, animals, trolls, elves, fairies, gnomes, hobbits, demons, mortals, ... immortals, dragons, oracles and of course, humans. But it is said that only on one moon in ten thousand, the earth gives birth to one who talks to all. And that one is a Hearman. It is said that it is a gift bestowed only in times when the world is in need of ...change.”

The realization hit the boy. “The fog... The earth needs cleansing. But why me? I am just a boy.”

“Ah but that is where you’re wrong Gilbert. For in reality, a boy is simply a man in a different place and time.”

“But how can I make a difference?”

“The dew makes a difference to the morning air. The bee makes a difference to the existence of life. It is not only the great that bring about change. It is not only the powerful that demonstrate strength. It has been said that the meek will inherit the earth...”

“Are you saying that I was born this way for a reason?”

“One cannot be sure, but it is possible,” answered Angus.

“But how. What is my purpose? What is my destiny?”

“That I cannot tell you Hearman... But it is a fact that you have a gift, and it is a gift that comes with a price.”

“Well then it cannot be me of who you talk. I have no money!”

“No, no boy... not that kind of price. It is written that Hearmen carry the burden of listening to the world. For only once someone can converse with everything, can one truly understand anything, understand the truth, and appreciate a state of balance.”

“Mr. Owl...”

“Angus”

“Mr. Angus”

“Angus”

Gilbert thought he knew where this was going, and he had to tell the owl that it was a waste of time and energy, as everyone treated him as though he were crazy when he spoke about his gift.

“Angus, I am just a boy and no one listens to me...”

“Yes, yes. This is the burden - and tragedy - of being a Hearman. I have not heard of one that has ever reached true balance, for it is precisely to be accepted into the human fraternity that they give up and renounce their gift. That and the fact that every man, Hearman or not, has a price - a weak heart, deep pockets, or in your case... I have heard, bad blood.”

Gilbert grew impatient: “What’s your point?”

“The point, Gilbert, is that your destiny has been chosen. I was born with wings and so I must fly. You are born with the gift and so you must fulfill your destiny.”

“But Angus...”

“I know this is much to hear, especially for someone so young, but these are desperate times, I fear that if delayed further it will be too late.”

“My sister...”

Angus nodded, “...Purity.”

How did he know about Purity? Timor had known as well...

“How do you know?”

“She is not well Gilbert, and...”

“Yes, and it’s my fault because if I was stronger...”

“Aah. You blame yourself for her ills, Gilbert. You are not entirely wrong.”

So it was true. He was to blame! Gilbert lowered his head into his arms, not seeing Angus rise on powerful wings and settle lightly on the fragmenting stone well beside him.

“Be still child, and listen. Purity is of this world, but she is also this world incarnate. I know that’s hard to digest, but please hear me...It is written in the stars, of a child... A gift from a forbidden union between man and immortal. A child whose coming into the world will herald the end of what was and the birth of what is. The child in man is lost... But the child will return when it is time. And with will come the fruits of Earth. A rebirth of purity. A beacon of good to show the way and shed light along the path ordained. And in Purity, the child ordained will see both pain and light, and for her, he will endure.”

Gilbert was staring at the owl. Feeling his eyes, Angus looked at the boy, then looked away.

Gilbert just kept staring.

“What?” the owl scowled.

“What do you mean what?” Gilbert whispered through his teeth, “What in the name of faith was that all about?”

The bird’s eyes darted from side to side as he turned his head - almost a full turn.

“You mean...”

“Yes!”

Gil was losing patience, “Written in the stars, Purity... My sister. ... Me!”

“Yes... Firstly, your sister... Purity. You see, she is... how do I put this? She is a child of nature, so when the earth suffers, so does she, when the earth flourishes, so does she.”

“Mr. Angus...”

“Angus.”

“How do you know this?”

“I do not know it for certain, child, but I know what I have heard, passed down from father to son – and from my father. I know too of the rumors among those who know. I believe there is a quest, ripe to unfold. A great quest, which will define existence. A legend. The fulfillment of a prophecy... Time alone will tell whether it is to become fact or remain forever, fable.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Listen carefully, even if it seems fantastical.”

And Gilbert listened to the wise old owl.

“There was a time when the world was beautiful and peaceful, and everyone lived side by side in harmony...”

Gilbert watched the owl’s expressive eyebrows. They moved and danced as if acting out the scenes he was describing. The boy closed his eyes and thought about the Valley.

“But now the fog has grown a thousand times over and sprawled across the land. Many have fled, many have perished... many have simply... disappeared,” the owl’s voice was deadly serious.

Gilbert sat riveted.

“But our fathers and their fathers’ fathers have long spoken about a promise. And you, Gilbert, are ordained to fulfill that promise ... It is your destiny ... your curse... For that is the meaning of your name: Promise.”

The young man stared deep into the owl’s eyes, not wanting to miss one tiny bit of what he was hearing. His mind was racing. Promise? What promise? Why had he never been told of any promise before? Surely this old owl had it wrong? Yes! There was another Hearman... Angus had mistaken him for someone else.

Angus spoke again, “Those who know understand that Purity holds the answer, but you hold the key. It will not be easy. It will not be quick, for the stars speak of a quest. A quest that has been whispered of since time began. You will go on that quest. You will need all the help you can get... From the land, the winds, and those you can trust, those on who you can depend. And remember always, what is, is not always what it seems, and those close to you may not always be your friend...”

“Angus, this is not for me,” moaned Gilbert. Then he remembered. “You spoke of another... You said two Hearmen. You have crossed paths with a Hearman before? Maybe...”

“Never!” the owl screeched.

Gilbert was shocked by the owl’s ferocity. “But you said...”

“That was a long time ago, and as I also said, never have I known of a Hearman who lived up to the blessing and resisted the curse. There can be no mistake.”

“Well if you knew me better...” Gil started.

“Quiet, my child... for it has begun, there is no turning back. Once a Hearman is aware of his destiny, it must unfold. And this quest must transpire. I wish I could do it on your behalf - God knows you are young - but it is not my destiny. I wish I knew all the answers, but I don’t. All I know is only he with pure heart will see the Last Straw, with tempered courage will digest the Food For Thought; only he without malice will cross the River of Broken Dreams and climb high into the Tree of Life, to one day once again harvest the Seed of Reason...”

Angus’s eyebrows bounced back and forth as he emphasized and punctuated what he was saying. Then his eyes softened on the boy trying to make sense of what had been said.

“It rests in your hands, Gilbert. You have the chance to save us all. Use this knowledge – and take Purity. It is only you who can conquer the growing fog and open the sky to the sun. It is only you who can restore harmony and balance.”

Gilbert closed his eyes. He thought of Purity, and her coughing and her ailments. He thought too of her crystal blue eyes and radiant smile. He thought of his mother, her beautiful face being weathered and corroded by worry and despair. He thought of his father whose strong frame and proud voice had buckled and withered, now a bent, broken man. And he felt a heat erupting from his heart down his arms, into his hands and fingertips. He felt an energy in his legs, and his face tingled. Is this what it felt like to find your meaning, see your destiny revealed? He jumped to his feet, steadied himself and faced the owl.

“I will do it, Angus... Nothing can be as bad as this place, this horrible place! ...But where do I begin? Where do I go. How do I start?”

“Return to this place tomorrow night. But... if you value your life – and that of your loved ones, keep it secret. If the Supreme Council were to learn of your intentions...”

The owl stopped dramatically, letting the boy conjure up his own horrors. Angus continued. “Your kind will be against you. They will try and stop you. There will be retribution and your family will be victim...”

“My family? But what have they done? It will be me, not them!”

“The evil of Gradlock knows no bounds. He will vent his anger wherever he feels will cause the most pain.”

“And what of Purity?”

“Alas! If your sister remains behind, she will not survive the fall.”

“And if I take her with me?”

“That I cannot say. The winds grow cold and the journey will be long and dangerous. Her chances will be slim. But here, her fate will be sealed.”

Gilbert got up slowly from the old well. He was not aware of it yet, but with his new focus, his body moved oiled and agile - very similar to the young athletes he used to watch competing in the games held every summer in the Valley. But his agility was far from his mind as he paced up and down by the well in the cold blue light of the waxing moon.

“I go, my parents suffer. I leave my sister behind, she dies. I stay behind, we all most likely die.”

“If you do not go, we all will die. It is a hard choice but a choice for you alone,” the owl prompted.

“Oh... I don’t know. I can’t let my parents suffer...” Gilbert whined.

“Are they not suffering already?”

“I think so...”“So what is your decision my young friend?”

“How can I choose to do something that will hurt those I love?”

“How can you choose not to do something - that will save the world?”

Gilbert stopped and turned to Angus. Tears filled his eyes.

Angus continued, pretending not to see, “You must be careful and secretive. I have friends. Perhaps

they can be of assistance. Perhaps not. Meet me here tomorrow night.”

Gilbert turned to leave, Angus screeching after him: “Go with fortitude young Hearman, and remember always who you are and for what you were born... The promise of happiness and freedom, and the life blood of your sister lies within your hands.”

10 - Skye Hears All

Angus ruffled his feathers in thought as he watched Gilbert scurrying off into the deep city shadows. He didn’t notice the shiny jet black shape matching blackness with the night sky. He was startled when the crow started squawking.

“Well if it isn’t my fine feathered friend, Angus.”

Angus whipped his head around without moving another muscle on his body.

“Skye! To what do I owe this displeasure... Spying again are we? Skye spy with his little black eye...”

The lecherous looking crow smirked. “How quaint. Must remember that... Just looking around, shall we say... You’ve made some new friends I see...?”

“Is that now a crime as well? It is of no business or concern of yours.”

Skye hardly broke stride, “Interesting little boy you have befriended. Something different about him, is there not? And you were speaking to him...?”

“I was not speaking to him. I was observing him. With all your spying have you not yet learnt that our kind cannot speak to humans?"

“Not all humans...”

Angus scowled, turning his back on the crow.

“And you were speaking of a journey?”

“No,” the owl denied flatly.“

A quest, I thought you said...”

“You are simply digging where there is nothing to be mined. We were talking of an excursion. A visit you might say...”

The crow cocked his head, hopping nonchalantly to a branch closer to the owl,“So you were talking... A visit... To whom may I ask?”

“It is of no concern of yours,” the owl replied, agitated by the slip of his tongue.

The crow stretched his wings.“Maybe it is no concern of mine, but possibly it is a subject of interest to those I know. Maybe there will be gratitude from McMalice - or even the great Gradlock himself.”

Angus was furious that they had been seen and overheard by the devious crow. No matter how much he pleaded and denied, Skye would take his inflated version of the encounter straight to the Supreme Council. At a loss for words for the first time in a long time, he turned towards the crow, “You bore me you carrion pigeon. Be gone and let me be.”

“Until next time my friend,” the crow scoffed, rising easily on pitch black wings into a pitch black sky.

11 - Plans Are Made

Purity smiled up in wonderment. She opened her mouth to talk, stopping when Gilbert pressed his index finger to her lips, signaling her to be still. Immediately she lay dead still, following her brother’s every move with her eyes.

“Hush my little sister,” he whispered. “We must be quiet”

It was an unusually bright morning. Joss was at work and Elizabeth was cleaning and sewing in the kitchenette.

Purity beamed, feeling more than hearing the excitement in his voice.

“Listen to me. We are going on an adventure.”

She frowned, trying her best to suppress a cough, just about succeeding.

“An adventure?” Purity repeated.

Her eyes sparkled as she tried to sit up, but she was too weak.

“Slowly Pops. Let me help you...”Gilbert re-arranged her bedding.

“Are we all going?” Purity was bubbling to the brim.

“Hush little one. We cannot take mama and papa.”

Purity stopped, wide eyes on her brother. “Why? Are they not coming? They will never let us go alone...”

“And that my little sister is why we’re not telling them.”

“Should we do that? Papa will surely be furious when we come home. How long will we be gone?”

Purity started breathing faster with excitement. She suppressed another coughing fit.

“Hush, Truthfully I do not know.”

“You don’t know? Where are we going?”

Making sure he was not spotted, Gilbert started packing clothes and provisions into the old leather back-bag given him by his father when they left the Valley.

“It is uncertain...”

“I don’t understand... Why are we going somewhere you don’t know where? Why don’t you know where we will be going? Why do we not take mother and father with?”

“Please keep it quiet!” brother hissed, “We are going outside the city - to destroy the evil that is killing the lands. We are going to get back our Valley. We are going on a quest to save the world!”

In spite of her weakness, Purity sat bolt upright, “Out of the city! Weeeee! Where? How?”

“Please keep it down. ...We find out tonight.”

12 - The Eve Of The Quest

The evening sounds had subsided and Joss was fast asleep when they stole out, Purity wrapped in her warmest winter coat buttoned right up to keep her ears warm, and Gilbert ahead pulling the makeshift sled.

He had tried to help his young sister from her bed, but before long realized she was too weak to stand, let alone embark on an adventure to who knows where.

Purity had cuddled up next to her brother looking at him trustingly through brilliant blue eyes. She put her arms over his shoulders, trying to comfort him, not quite sure what was going on. Every now and then, she would choke ‘til her eyes watered, trying not to cough. There was but one thing she knew: Under no circumstances should they wake their parents.

Then Gilbert had the idea. He would make a sled for his sister, from the old broken skis they had found in the cave below the stairwell outside. Gilbert snuck to the front door and opened it. Cold wind sliced through the narrow gap. His mother stirred, but she was exhausted from the past few days. It would take an earthquake to wake either parent, Gilbert thought to himself. He carefully extracted the splintered old skis from where

they had been abandoned. Back inside he found a roll of tattered rags and before long, he had constructed a makeshift stretcher sled.

‘Not pretty but adequate,’ he thought to himself. ‘Should do the trick...’

Purity sat up. Somehow the excitement of the imminent adventure had invigorated her. She watched Gilbert work, and when prompted, slid carefully into the makeshift crib between the skis. Her smile radiated her excitement. “It’s perfect. Are we ready?”

Gilbert looked back to make sure his parents had not stirred. They slept on, not even moving. Gilbert felt a lump build in his throat. He loved them so. He knew they would suffer at the hand of Gradlock when he was gone. A tear came to his eyes. He hesitated. Purity felt his anguish. “What is it Gilbert. Why do we wait?”

“Nothing... We’re fine. There is one more thing I must do.”

Gilbert tore a strip from the left-over roll of old rags. He found his father’s stylus, and slowly he wrote a message for his parents: ‘Mama and papa, please do not worry. I have Purity. We are going on a journey to make her well. We will make everything better. I love you. Mama, you told me I would find my gift one day. I have found it. Love Gilbert.’

He had set his mind and there was no going back. For his parents and for Purity and for all living things, only the Seed of Reason could bring them salvation. As he placed the note beside his sleeping parents, his mother stirred. She raised her head sleepily. “Gilbert? Is that you?” she yawned, still more asleep than awake.

“Sshh Mama. Yes it is me...”

Gilbert stood awkwardly next to the bed, looking down at her.

“Why are you up? What are you doing?”

Gilbert knelt down slowly, careful not to make a sound.“I need to go away, Mama.”

There was nothing else he could say. Looking away, he handed his mother the note. She read it carefully, taking it in for a few moments before turning back to the boy.

“But where are you going? How can anyone help Purity, let alone a young frail child like... Who has been filling your head with nonsense?”

“It is not nonsense Mama. You need to believe me.”

“But you are just a child, my son. And with Purity! No good can come of this.”

Gently Gilbert grasped her hand. Their eyes locked and he felt as though she was looking into his soul.

“Mama. You told me that with my weakness, I had a gift, and one day I would find it. I have found it! You must believe me. We all know that no good will come from us carrying on as we are. I have to go”

“If I object, you will still go, won’t you?” she asked resignedly.

She studied her son, for the first time aware of his inner strength and determination. How he had grown. Then in the subdued light, she noticed tears in his eyes.

“Why do you cry?”

His mother sat up.

“They will come for me. And when they find I am not here, they will wreak vengeance on you.”

Gilbert avoided her eyes.

“Who?” She asked.

“Gradlock. The Supreme Council”

“Who told you? How do you know these things?”

“It is better that I do not tell you. The less you know the better.”

Elizabeth got up, steering Gilbert away from the bed. “And what of your gift?”

Gilbert held her gaze evenly. “You know mother... You have always known.”

Elizabeth dropped her gaze and started faffing around the makeshift sled and Purity.

“Can you tell me where you will be going?”

“I cannot because in truth, I don’t know. All I know is that we will be leaving the city.”

“How? You know that leaving the city is not allowed?”

“You have always told me, where there is a will, there is a way.”

“But this is different.”

The mother tucked the blankets securely around Purity, making sure she was warm and secure.The child looked up at her mother. “Mama?” she said.

“What is it little one? Keep it quiet.”

“What we will do must be done. I trust Gilbert and I believe we can change the world. If you believe in love, you must let us go.”

Elizabeth looked from one to the other, undecided. She tightened her dressing gown against the cold and turned towards the small kitchen.

“Very well. There are things that one must do, and I believe you. Maybe this is such a time. But you will not leave without some sustenance for your journey.”

Quickly, quietly and efficiently, she packed a small basket with some dried ham, rough seeded bread and fresh fruit.

“Be sure to eat and keep your strength up. Anything is possible on a full stomach.”

Gilbert smiled, reflecting on how typical this was of his mother once she had made up her mind.

“...And Gilbert, one last thing...”

Gilbert wanted to go. Time was wasting. He did not want to be late - and if his father woke... He watched his mother scratching behind the fruit preserve jars on the narrow shelf beside the entrance. Finding what she sought, she held out her hand to the boy. Gilbert stared at the small glass vial. The neck was sealed with a tiny cork stopper and wax.

“Here, take this. It is Crystal Dew, made from the sap of fresh Juiceberries plucked with the first rays of dawn. It will give you strength when you are weak and energy when you have none left to give. But listen to what I say: Use it sparingly. It is not easy to come by... Especially in these times.”

“When...?” Gilbert began.

“We talk too much... Take it.”

Gilbert hesitated before reaching for the vial. He decanted one tiny drop on his tongue. Immediately he felt a charge rush through his whole body. He felt his anguish and pain dissolve. He looked at his arms and legs and was startled to see old bruises slowly fade and all but disappear.

“Use it sparingly my son, for Crystal Dew, like your gift, is precious. Truly a miracle from mother earth. But remember always, mother earth sustains both blossom and weed alike. Good jousts eternal with evil. This potion you receive is a last resort, not a means to an end. Now hurry and go before I change my mind,” she ended.

Gilbert was having second thoughts. “But what of you and Papa? I would die if something untoward should ever happen to you because of me...”

“Go!” his mother said firmly, helping them move their little caravan to the door. “Do not worry about us. We will be fine. Now go before either of us changes our mind.” She bit her lip to hold back the tears.

With Purity securely strapped in the sled, Gilbert opened the door, and as carefully and as quietly as he could, jockeyed the makeshift sled-bed outside. With every step, the buildings around echoed the clatter as the sled slipped from step to step. Gilbert stopped and listened. Surely someone would hear them? Sporadic city sounds came from nowhere and everywhere, but nothing stirred. After what seemed like eons, he finally reached the narrow cobble street. He had done it - no one had woken up. He stood up stretching his tortured back and legs. How would he ever manage the quest before him. They were barely out of the apartment and already he felt weary.

A loud scratching in the gutter nearby caught his attention. It was the same drain he had seen the little eyes a day before. Curiosity getting the better of him, Gilbert’s stalked closer. But the eyes were gone in a flash.

“What is it, Gil?”

Purity asked straining from her crib to see where he was looking. Gilbert lifted the harness slung upfront.

“Nothing. I thought I saw something. But it was nothing.”

Straining against inertia, he started dragging the load forward. How could someone so small be so heavy?

13 - Gradlock Gets Word

Gradlock was in a foul mood.“I sent that imbecile for my beauties more than an hour ago. Has he left the city?”

Guards looked at each other nervously. Even they could not understand how Gradlock could refer to a pack of seething rabid, man-eating wolves as beauties. The esteemed Secretary of the Supreme Council glanced out the small window at the endless train of wagons stretching into the darkness, from the massive gate below him.

“Come to me, you pitiful peasants. Horizen awaits you.”

His deranged laughter echoed off the cold stone walls of the gatehouse hall, sending chills down spines of all. This was the place of Gradlock. The demon’s den. The place ‘suspicious characters’ from the scores arriving daily feared more even than the city itself, and from whence not too many were ever seen thereafter.

McMalice approached nervously, incoherently mumbling to himself. His eyes darted sporadically to the cold stone portal where Skye pompously perched.

“My lord, I have received word...”

Gradlock turned on McMalice, his voice like tortured ice. “Yes... What is it you horrible creature. Can you not see I am busy? Make it quick, before I change my mind.”

McMalice whimpered: “It’s the animals, sire”

Gradlock held the nervous troll in his glare, unsheathing a slender assassins knife from concealment in his cloak, slowly caressing the razor sharp double edged blade between forefinger and thumb. Sarcastically he turned towards the troll.

“The animals... What animals? What about the animals? Have they started flying, burrowing, dying? What is it you have to say, McMalice? Speak!”

“The animals converse ... the Quest has begun.”

The knife whistled past the troll, missing him by hairs before impaling and destroying the eye of a stuffed elk sharing pride of place with a great lion above the open hearth...

“You speak in riddles, sir. Are you trying to make me laugh? Would you be the jester? Of what quest to do you speak, man. Speak up!”

“The quest for the Seed of Reason, sire.”

Gradlock went rigid and McMalice felt ...terror. Long ago he had learnt: as long as Gradlock moved, ranted and raved, all was not lost - yet. But when he went quiet, stopped. Heads rolled and dynasties fell.

“What have you heard, my dear, dear friend,” Gradlock oozed, seeming to McMalice, infinitely more evil than before.

“There is rumor of a Hearman in our midst.”

Gradlock stared back at the wagon train.“And who is this illustrious soul – do we know his whereabouts? And where did this knowledge originate”

“It comes from Skye. The crow.”

“And where may I ask, did Skye learn the news.”

“Word has it that Angus...”

“Angus! That vile fowl. I should have shortened his path long ago!”

Gradlock stopped... thinking, all the while preening his white spindly fingers.

“Continue!” he shrieked

“Angus has been heard speaking of these things. Word has spread between beast by wind. The Hearman is the key. A new beginning. ...The world will be reborn.”

Gradlock purred, his back to McMalice,“And who is this man. This ... Hearman”

McMalice drew himself up to his full frightening height. He was going to enjoy this.

“Not a man sire. The news to me is that it is a boy. A young boy - that entered the city not too long ago. The young child that was ...different!”

Gradlock slammed a fist down on the heavy oak table, the sound echoing round the massive hall. Turning on the terrified McMalice. “I knew it. I knew it! Can you see what leniency brings? Can you see what good nature can create? I should have introduced him to my beauties when I had the chance. Is my kindness not a sign of weakness? ...Bring him to me! Bring the family to me! Bring their relatives to me! I want them now!”

With a final flourish of his long black coat, Gradlock stormed out of the hall, dissolved into the dark shadows of the stairwell and was gone.

14 - Gilbert Sets Forth

The full moon fought to penetrate the murky fog hanging like a cloak over the city. Shrouded in shadow from the ancient oak tree, the well had starting looking rundown and dilapidated at night. Angus was on his favorite perch watching Truman pacing with measured amusement.

“Are you sure this is where we are to meet?” the dog whined, sniffing the air every few steps.

“Yes Truman,” answered Angus.

“So where is he?”

“I don’t know Truman.”

The owl was tiring of the dog’s whining. None stop, yapping, whining and moaning.

“He won’t come. I know it... That’s what you get for dealing with man-beasts...”

“Truman...” Angus said evenly.

“But no one listens to Truman. Okay. So I’m not a hunter. I never wanted to be. But that was not my fault. It’s my blood they said. He hasn’t got the stomach for a kill they said. And now, no one even listens to me...”

“Truman...” Angus repeated, his voice more edgy.

“You asked me to go with the boy. I didn’t argue. I didn’t say a thing. ...It’s my hide. My life! I will be the one who suffers if we are caught! Yet my opinion doesn’t count...”

“Truman...” Angus’ voice was really edgy.

Truman pricked up his floppy ears. “What?” He turned to the owl in anticipation.

“Shut up!”

The massive dog cowered back sulkily. His ears dropped almost as fast as his tail snaked between his legs. Truman was hurt. “Is that it then? Shut up? I offer my services, ...willingly ...To march into the jaws of imminent death, and all you can say is... ...Wait! I smell something...”

He lifted his nose and tested the air - and for that split second, looked every inch the hunter his father had always wanted him to be. Howling like a wolf, he pranced straight up in the air from all fours.

“He comes. The boy comes!”

Angus preened his wings with an air. “Did I not say he would come?”

Angus took wing to meet Gilbert, strained and out of breath from exertion. “You made it my young friend. And not a moment too soon. Quick. We do not have much time. The word is out. Gradlock will no doubt place a ransom.”

“On my head?”

“Do not underestimate either the capacity for evil or the resources of our esteemed monarch. Where there is no conscience there is no limit, and darkness itself bends to his bidding.”

“And what may I ask, is that!”

Truman stood staring with disbelief at the sled.

“That you mangy mutt, is my sister. To what do we owe the dubious honor of your presence?”

“Your sister? She’s a sled?”

“Inside dimwit,” Gilbert smiled.

“But what is ...that!”

He pointed a massive paw from front to back and font again.“How does it work...?”

Gilbert looked around dramatically as though searching the area,“Elephants. ...They should be here any second...”

“Elephants!? ...There are no ele... Ahhh You’re joking right? You’re pulling my chain right?”

The owl and young boy grinned.

“Very funny. We have a comic act, a sick child and a fat bird. Let’s open a circus.”

Gilbert ignored the dog.“So what now?”

Angus shrugged his wings. “Truman has volunteered to accompany you. There’s not much of a plan really. I have a map ... to the River of Broken Dreams, but from there on, not much I’m afraid.”

“...And where do we find the Seed of Reason”

“Slowly my friend. You must first seek the Last Straw.”

“Yeah and after that the 2nd oats, and then the third barley, and...”

“I’m glad you have the energy for jest. You will need both.”

The owl became serious. “The Last Straw is said to be hidden somewhere in the Fields of Rhyme and Reason beyond the River of Broken Dreams. Once out the city, at first it should be easy - until Acre Forest. ...We have friends. But when you reach the River and beyond, you will have only your wits, your courage and each other to help you.”

Angus hopped onto Gilbert’s forearm, careful not to hurt the lad with his talons.

Purity was sitting up and had been listening carefully. “Hello Mr. Owl. Can I ask a question.”

Gilbert whirled around in surprise, “You can talk!”

“Of course I can talk.” She smiled at Angus raising her eyes to the heavens, “Some people’s brothers.”

“No Pops! ...You can talk... to animals”

Angus chuckled knowingly. For he well knew the legend: the Hearman could converse with the Universe while the young girl - an earth-gift - was nature itself.

“Okay. So you got me...”

Purity giggled – and almost choked from a vicious cough attack.

Angus glided to the sled. “It is true. You are not well my child. But fear not, I do not believe I will be wrong when I say you will rebound once you are beyond the fortifications of this awful realm.”

“Okay. Let’s move.” Gilbert already covered in angry welts and abrasions, marched to the front of the sled. “Let’s do this thing...”

Truman turned and strutted off. He had only gone about six steps when he stopped abruptly. “Hey. How do we propose we get out the city?” He wasn’t talking to anyone in particular.

“Good question.” It was Angus.

Gilbert shouldered the makeshift harness, “The same way we came in.”

Truman turned his head “How’d you come in?”

“The Main Gate.” Gilbert took up the weight.

The dog was thinking, “The Main Gate... The Main Gate...” He said it over and over, changing inflection on the words. “Well fancy that,” Truman continued, “Me, a skinny kid dragging a crippled sled and a fat owl, are simply going to stroll up to the main gate. We say, ‘Hi Mr. Troll, we’re going for a walk outside to find a thingy with fantastic powers. ...And Mr. Troll is gonna say ‘yessiree fellas, no problem fellas, off you go fella...’”

Truman stopped and turned to Gilbert, his head cocked comically, one ear flopped over, the other straight up. “Are you nuts, boy? Where have you been the last few years...”

Gilbert baited the dog, “Well up until a few months ago we lived in...”

Truman was getting peeved. They were making fun of him and he hated that. “Get real boy-beast. Once you come in, you can’t go out. Not out the front anyway, and I don’t know back doors. Aw well. Shucks. Bad luck. Better luck next time. Seeya...”

Truman turned on his tail and started sauntering away.

“Truman,” Angus said the name almost like an accusation. Truman broke stride, but kept going.

“Truman!” it was a mix between a bark and a screech. The dog stopped, tail between his legs again. He looked like a kid who stole the cookie jar.

“Yeah...?”

“Where are you going”

Eyes down Truman became defensive, apologetic, “Look. The way I see it, we can’t even get out the city, let alone reach the River of Lost Dreams...”

“Broken” it was Purity.

“Say whaat?”

“Broken, not lost. Broken Dreams”

“Whatever... Anyway, even if we do go on, how far do you think the boy-beast might drag that contraption?”

Angus smiled, “Ah, but I have an idea for that...”

“Yeah? What’s the idea... How we gonna do this? Hit me with it...”

Truman suddenly realized Angus was looking at him ...funny. He glanced at the other two, also smiling – like they all had a secret they were not sharing.

“So what’s the plan...” Truman asked with decidedly less enthusiasm. Something was different.

“How we gonna... Hey. Why you all looking at m.. Hey. Whatcha thinking? ... No. Don’t even think about it... That thing... Me? You cannot be serious... Hey man. I’m a hunting dog – or at least from a long line of... Angus? Say something. No ways...”

Angus was sizing him up. “Well if you haven’t got the strength... If you think you cannot manage...”

Truman puffed himself up as big as he could. “Watcha mean, haven’t got the strength. Hey, do you know who you’re talking to? Do you know my pedigree, my legacy? Mine is a story of greatness...”

“Ah yes. That was my thinking. Pity how wrong we both are.”

“What do you mean... I have more strength than any dog I know.”

“But you have the heart of a mouse.”

“A mouse? Whoooahh. I hate mice. ... But believe me, I have the heart of a warrior!”

Angus shrugged again, winking at Gilbert.

“Ah yes. Tragic. Gilbert cannot possibly drag the sled and you... what was it? Haven’t got the heart, was it? Yes... That was it.”

Truman was incensed, storming a few circles around the group before sliding to a stop beside Gilbert.

“Hook me up fella. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Catching on, Gilbert played ball, “Are you sure Truman? Please, if you can’t cope, we understand...”

Truman growled, “I said hook me up sir.”

“Well... if you insist...” Gilbert was out of the makeshift harness in a flash and a few minutes later, Truman was securely and quite comfortably harnessed to the sled. He pulled forward testily.

“Right I’m ready!” barked Truman. Again he stopped and looked suspiciously at the other three, slowly scanning from one to the other.

“Let’s go already. I’m not really sure what just happened, but somehow I think I’ve been duped... Have I?”

Smiling as sweet as an angel, Purity eased herself from the stretcher and walked to the dog, wrapping her slim little arms around his thick furry neck.

“Never Truman. You are really a big strong doggy, and we love you.”

“Hmmph. You’re just saying that... Are we going yet?”

Angus turned away and coughed to conceal his amusement. The children sure had Truman’s number. They were smart and determined - perhaps traits that would stand them in good stead for the quest ahead. But first they had to escape the city.

Purity, looking awfully pale but beaming from ear to ear, climbed delicately back into the sled. Gilbert went to her side and helped tuck her in safe, warm and secure.

Angus flapped into flight, “Lead on Truman!”

“Where to?”

“Exactly” Angus flapped.

“Save me. We haven’t even left and you drive me insane. Where to!”

Angus hovered like a big fat humming bird, “Head for the south wall of Jezzop’s Furnace.”

Gilbert, impressed by the owls flying antics was up and ready to move.

“Whoah one second...” It could only be Truman. “Jezzop’s Furnace... Did you say the South Wall? Where that

big ugly dark floodwater drain leads into the sewers? Jiiisshhh. Gives me the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it.”

“Exactly,” Angus replied flatly.

The tail disappeared again. Peering at the owl through sad droopy eyes, “Exactly... Exactly what?”

Angus just smiled. “Let’s just say we’re taking this mission underground.”

15 - The Demon Unleashed

“Here he is, M’Lord! I have him ...In fact we found him lurking in the shadows just outside your chambers,” said McMalice.

Gradlock turned to the troll, his face completely devoid of expression. Without shifting his eyes or blinking, he raised a skinny outstretched hand towards the massive troll. McMalice looked confused for a second, “Huh? ... Ah! Oh yes. Yes sire, I have acquired Crystal Dew for you, as you requested.”

Gradlock had been pacing up and down the massive antechamber adjacent to the Gatehouse Hall. He had been waiting... Always waiting for the incompetent imbeciles he had to rely on. Why, oh why he seethed, could they not have at least one brain cell between them? He swore to himself that when all was finally done, things would be different...

Gradlock snatched the small crystal vial from McMalice.

“Very best, I might add. Sire. So I am told...” McMalice babbled.

Gradlock held the glittering bottle to the light, mesmerized by reflections dancing in the violet liquid. Like purple fire. He opened the vile and sniffed greedily, filling his lungs with the exotic fumes.

“To life!” he exclaimed to no one in particular and drained the vial in one mouthful.

McMalice was shocked, “No sire... You mustn’t... M’lord!”

Gradlock dropped to the floor. Everyone stood speechless. The prostrate body exhaled a laboured groan then lay silent, motionless. After what seemed like ages, Gradlock started breathing again. ...Heavily. Panting – like a dog. Without warning his body jerked in convulsion. In obvious agony he thrashed about the floor like a creature possessed.

McMalice stood riveted. He did not know whether to run, to help, ...to call for help? He knew what he wanted to do... A blood curdling scream erupted from Gradlock, his hands clawing at the air in one final fit before he collapsed.

After an eternity for all present, Gradlock lifted his head and crawled his way from the cold stone floor. His head hung limp on his scrawny chest. The head lifted... and McMalice jumped back, as though hit in the chest. But it wasn’t a blow. It was Gradlock’s eyes ... and skin, and body! He appeared double in mass, his body now looking ripped and toned. His skin had gone from translucent white to an angry burgundy, like a living, moving piece of meat, and worst of all, his eyes were like bottomless black pits with furious fires raging inside. Gradlock smiled at McMalice, before turning to Timor...

16 - The Story of Crystal Dew

The healing properties of Juiceberries have been known since the earliest of times, but Crystal Dew only came much much later when renowned apothecary, Denzyl of Mannicke first dried the delicate violet petals to white crystal, and distilled with lavender oil concentrate and clear spirits to a clear purple liquid. And while the healing properties of Juiceberries were thought to be remarkable, those of Crystal Dew were soon seen as nothing short of miraculous. If fact, there were even those of conviction that Crystal Dew ended the Great White Plague.

It was therefore of little surprise when some surmised that the properties of the miraculous derivative could extend from cure to prevention, and a somewhat fabulous reputation of Crystal Dew emerged. It became sought by healers, apothcaries and merchants with almost as much zeal as the fabled philosopher’s stone, and it was inevitable that it eventually attracted the attention of those seeking more than either protection or cure.

Let it be said that Crystal Dew was a highly potent concoction. A single drop provided an anecdote to a myriad of diseases and infections. But taken in larger doses, the affects were dramatic and initially unexpected, sometimes even leading to death. Champions of the miracle tonic spoke of feelings of euphoria and spiritual reawakening, some even claiming to have seen the very meaning of life - and with time urban legends of infamy began spreading faster to specifically receptive ears, than to those of fame.

It was just as inevitable that it would reach the attention and arouse the curiosity of the upper ranks of society. The social elite, bored with their lives, bored of their wives, searching for more than just idle days and trivial lies.

They had the will and had the means, and soon Crystal Dew was introduced into the recreational tapestry of swelling numbers of the upper class, who found themselves exuberant, interesting, virile, empathetic, and unexpectedly, less and less able to cope with an existences without it.

...And with exploding demand, there were those who realised the commercial potential, and set out to control supply. Unscrupulous chemists were highly sought after by calculating merchants, and while Juiceberries and Crystal Dew continued to cure and save lives, more dubious underground businesses emerged to feed the insatiable cravings of recreational sociability.

It became understood that those growing the flowers in far off lands defined supply and cartels were formed to invest and safeguard, and the dream slowly became a nightmare. People would kill for the cure, for the high, and for the protection and safeguarding of supply. There was almost no limit to the wealth which could be gleaned, and soon politicians and leaders of society could be seen dining with racketeers and criminals, as all had their hands in it...

Then the insanity started. Those who at first were seen as invigorated and enlightened slowly became irritable, irrational, paranoiac, schizophrenic - and after a time, when the choice of whether they consumed or not was no longer theirs, quite insane. They would steal from their own families to acquire the elusive purple liquid. ...Would kill for it, both others and as became increasingly the case, ultimately themselves.

When some sons of well connected families succumbed to addiction, reason demanded that something be done about it. Armies sere sent out to destroy plantations, efforts were made to curb and eliminate distribution. They would soon find it was an impossible struggle.

But failure could be attributed mainly to the fact that the war on those peddling death was a dishonest one. It could have been won if there had been an honest will. But that same landed gentry that protested so strongly against it - and funded the soldiers to destroy it - were filling their coffers even faster from the other hand, controlling their illegitimate gains of abuse. For as it is and will always be, nothing can prosper without a will to drive it, a will to consume it, and those in the right places to ensure that the two should meet. And in Horizen, Gradlock was in the right place - and the Megacity in decline was in the right frame of mind...

17 - To Make a Traitor

“Timor, my dear little friend, I have been looking for you...”

Gradlock’s tone was sarcastic and sweet, like honey laced with acid.

“I am not your friend...” answered Timor the Persian warrior cat, his apparent cool belying the hatred and fear he felt inside as he adjusted his eye-patch.

“I decide who my friends are, pussy cat! Now, we might need you to go on a little trip...”

“I go nowhere for you.”

“Did you understand my words as a question? Sorry my fellow. This Hearman thing is rusty in me. But how should we say? Thank the Ancients for Crystal Dew!”

The head of the Supreme Council convulsed with laughter. As hysterically as it started, his cackle ceased.

“In truth Timor, I hear everything that happens in the city. Now... you will go on this journey...”

Timor didn’t trust, believe or like a thing he was hearing. He had no idea what journey Gradlock was referring to.

Gradlock leered down at the cat, “There are those that rumour would have it are about to embark on a quest. Some you know, some may know you. You would do me a great service if you would join them.”

Timor purred back, “And what makes you believe they will come to me, a crippled cat?”

“Because there are not too many that have ...your skills – especially regarding escape.”

“From where?”

“Horizen of course, you fool!”

“The only way I know is the Main Gate.”

Gradlock did not even deign to comment. He simply stared.

“And, what insanity makes you think I would go with them – for you?”

“They go in search of the Seed of Reason.”

Timor spun to face the putrid entity that was Gradlock. The two stared at each other, mutual hate in their eyes. The cat turned away, resting his head on his silky front paws. “When I travel, I travel alone mon ami...”

“Silence! You will go on this journey, and when they find what it is they seek, you will bring it to me... am I understood? Your service will obviously not go unrewarded. But if you refuse...”

“You cannot harm me anymore, Gradlock...”

“Oh yes I can... believe me when I say that Timor, I can hurt you in ways you never dreamed possible...”

Gradlock changed from marble to mercury, his voice and manner once more like hot treacle. “Whatever did happen to that pretty young thing. What was her name? ...Saskia. Yes, Saskia! Did you ever find out?”

The hackles flared on Timor’s neck. With the agility of a lynx, he turned on his nemesis, but the troll guards stepped forward to cut off his path. Timor knew it would be futile to attack. He would be cut down in a matter of seconds. There were too many to fight – together that is.“

What have you done with her? She is dead. I know it!”

“On the contrary my warrior, she is very much alive. ...How shall we say, as a guest of my benevolent nature – and if necessary, displeasure.”

“You touch a hair on her head, Gradlock, and you will meet your maker!”

“You threaten me!? A broken crippled cat threatens the most powerful being ever to walk these lands?”

Gradlock cackled like a demon, and stopped. No one breathed. “If you ever want to see your precious Saskia again – in one piece that is - and not as mittens, you will listen to me very carefully: They will seek you and invite you. And you, my friend will go. Tonight! Now get out of my sight!”

18 - A Seed Revealed

Timor hung back in the shadows opposite the south wall of Jezzop’s Furnace, his thoughts in turmoil. Was Saskia alive? What a cruel ruse if she wasn’t. Would even Gradlock steep so low? Timor knew the answer before the question was even formed.

But what if... There was a chance she still lived. How she must suffer. ...No matter how small the chance, he had no choice but to comply.

Gradlock said he knew some of the adventurers ...and they knew him. Who could it be? Probably aligned with the growing resistance simmering in the Megacity. Now it would be his mission to take these buffoons outside the walls...

While serving Gradlock, he was oft times required to venture beyond the fortifications of Horizen. It was on one such excursion that Timor first came to comprehend the damage being inflicted by the fog and other excretions from the city. Seeing the countryside, once lush valleys and dense forests become dust, barren and deserted, he began to question the true intent and purpose of Gradlock and his Supreme Council – and had realized that he had become a henchman for the powers of darkness. And it wasn’t too long after that, he made the careless comment that had resulted in his fall from grace...

The sun was long gone and shadows were long and dark. The late afternoon bustle had passed leaving only a few stragglers and street kids lingering near discarded crates for food and shelter to last them through the night. Timor knew the adventurers would have to come this way. Besides the gate, there was only one way out of the city, and that was through the sewers. Timor thought about the last time he had sneaked from the city. It was a short time after he and Ernest had moved in with Poulus and Alice. ...After the epiphany when he had decided to find Saskia...

He had needed information and he knew just how to get it. Hidden in the shadows he had started following the trolls, learning their shifts, their movements. He learnt which were most dangerous, which were most ruthless - and which were not as happy as desired with their lives. The process was slow. Painstakingly slow.

One day, he found McMalice shuffling in the shade of the old oak. He looked like he was waiting. Timor slinked into the shadows and watched ...and waited. After a few minutes, the giant entrance door of the tower swung half-open. It stopped. No movement... It opened a little wider and a troll and a beautiful woman stepped into the sunlight, followed seconds later by Gradlock looking almost translucent in the brightness of day. His head hung low onto his bony chest, he was adorned in black and purple, with slashes of red that gave his overall appearance a look of insanity. His entourage in tow, Gradlock sauntered towards McMalice. Timor moved closer with the stealth of a ghost. Gradlock was addressing McMalice, his head cocked slightly. He was asking him something...

Timor knew he had to get closer... The oak tree. They were in the shade. If... he could... just cover the distance without being seen, he could easily scale the tree and be in earshot. Timor was already halfway up the tree when the calamity almost dislodged him. An innocent enough looking cart at the other end of the square erupted into flame, sending deadly splinters and shards flying in all directions. McMalice jumped in front of Gradlock, shielding the despot from danger.

“Go!” Gradlock shrieked, pointing at the chaos.McMalice made to go.“Not you! You. And you... Go!” He shouted at his two earlier companions.The beautiful woman gasped before charging after her troll companion for the Clock Tower. A massive blaze now raged out of control, spreading from cart to carriage, awning to structure around where the cart once stood. Most people ran like ants. Some less fortunate, faces and clothes covered in soot, shuffled around in dazed shock. A woman wailed over the lacerated body of a child lying motionless and bleeding on the cold cobbled paving.

The next minute, the Clock Tower Square was swarming with trolls and guards, and of course the dogs. Timor had watched grimly from his place of hiding when the trolls returned and headed for the Compound with two or three pitiful souls about to learn the price of indiscretion towards the status quo.

Safe and unseen almost directly above Gradlock’s head, Timor had a grandstand view of McMalice and Gradlock, now alone. ‘Don’t move, monsters,’ the cat thought in silence.

McMalice shuffled nervously, towering over Gradlock seemingly amused by the incursion just past. The despot appeared unusually demure, a worrying concept.

“Where were we... Ah yes... How long have you ...been with me McMalice?”

McMalice had been flustered. “As long as you need my lord.”

Gradlock revealed a flutter of irritation before recomposing himself, “No my man... Yes... Thank you... But how long have we been... friends?"

McMalice was lost, but had the savvy to answer the question, “Well you know sire. Since before the change... Since we were children.”

“Ah yes. You were a good friend and became a good man. But you made a choice... And a choice I trust you remain happy with?”

McMalice felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter.“Yes sire. Yes... Happy... Very happy sire.”

“Good, good,” Gradlock soothed, “Yours was not the destiny of the common man, and it became clear to me. You were a man that I could call an ally, a friend, almost a brother. For you, your status of privilege and a window to my world. ...Of course, the downside: You become a troll...”

Gradlock paced slowly around the cowering troll, “But not too great a price for what you have now? I’m sure...?”

“No my lord... No price would be too high to be in your grace,” McMalice spluttered.

“A wise disposition my friend. A very wise position... But let us get to what it is I have to say. Tell me what you know of the Seed of Reason?”

McMalice had looked guarded, “Why M’lord. Only what is said in the legend. What anyone from these parts knows...”

Gradlock smiled ice, “Humor me, my friend. Tell me of the legend.”

McMalice scratched his calloused head, “Well from what I understand, the Seed of Reason is thought to hold dominion over evolution.”

“Nice choice of phrasing my friend. Strange how the legend seems to reverberate with each generation. Did our fathers not talk of these things? Did they not say their New Order would pave the way! Do you believe this time is different? That it could be a different truth?”

“Well no sire. It is a legend.”

“Yes! But a legend that could be true. The River of Broken Dreams is real. The Fields of Rhyme and Reason are real. What if the legend were real? Ultimate power... For me!”

McMalice smiled awkwardly as Gradlock convulsed with laughter – and stopped.

“...But what of the Last Straw? It is a riddle beyond my comprehension. If it be truth, I must have it. The Seed of Reason. I will be the puppet-master holding the strings to life itself. I will script the pages of destiny and through me Gradlock, there will be salvation – and reward. Unlimited rewards, forever!”

Timor had heard every word but understood only half of the story. McMalice had the gift. Gradlock did not! But he had heard all he needed of the Seed of Reason. Ultimate power! Could the Seed of Reason not possibly restore his eye, his leg, ...give him back his Saskia? Could such a miracle be possible? He would escape the city and find the Seed of Reason, he had resolved, if it were the last thing he ever did.

If you are enjoying the tale so far....

SEED OF REASON available on Amazon