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21. THE ENTRANCE
Headwinds pushed against them, hindering travel.
For the next three days, Elfen and Freegirl paddled the rig with an intense heart—one sleeping while the other one rowed. Sometimes they rowed together. Rowing was tiring, but their sails were still in tatters, and there was no other way.
They were very strong people, and by the second day they’d developed a perfect rhythm in chanting—creating a mesmerizing pump.
“Pull it down, up it goes—pull it down, up it goes—pull it down, up it goes.” They had become so enthralled by their words and synchronized moves, they barely noticed the tall trees on their right become replaced by a rock wall.
Elfen was rowing peacefully entranced, while Freegirl, seated behind him, did the same. The change in light and temperature brought the younger one to alarm. “Elfen!” she hollered softly.
The tunnel and its entrance were nearly half a mile in width, the ceiling another quarter of a mile high—a dark, sucking mouth that loomed over the river and blocked the sun’s rays.
Elfen snapped out of his hypnotic state. He looked around him eager and ready. “Light the torches!” he ordered. “This is it!”
The sailors scrambled to light the fire-rods in front of the vessel, then immediately returned to the oarseats.
Outside the enormous cave, the sun was setting, so the cracks in the tunnel emitted not a glare.
“Our timing has been quick. Our rowing pattern great. If we keep focused—you rest while I row, and vice-a-verse—we’ll be through here in a week. It can be done, Freegirl. It can be done!”
Elfen was showing signs of nervousness, an odd trait for him—an odd trait for anyone.
Sitting in the oarseat, the skipper turned and glanced at Freegirl, who seemed to hear not a thing. Her face was blank. “Freegirl?” he asked.
His passenger sat very quietly, watching the wall to her right, for again, the Rower of the Rivers kept the Beast toward the water’s edge—only this time they were surrounded by a mountain tunnel.
Elfen kept turning around, placing his eye on Freegirl, the strange one, while he also kept his eye on steering clear of the wall.
His passenger’s eyelids were wide open, but she appeared mindless.
“Freegirl,” repeated the old man, calmly. Her eyes were beginning to gain in width. “Freegirl,” he said again, with more force in his voice.
Was she watching something? What was she doing?
Trying hard to answer her companion, Freegirl mumbled something about her head hurting.
The man did not understand. Elfen relinquished his oars and turned around in the oarseat. He touched the back of Freegirl’s head which made her gasp and flinch. Looking through him as if he was not there, the child whimpered.
At that moment, Elfen realized the Mona Fidelity was moving downstream and headed back toward the entrance.
But it did not matter, for a stomach-beating scream suddenly filled the entire cavern. Shocked, Elfen grabbed Freegirl and shuddered. The scream faded from its echo and vanished.
In a hoarse whisper, Freegirl spoke. “We’ve got to get out of here... This place is full of devils…”
Devils? thought Elfen. Devils were not a Photopian term, and it was foreign to the man.
He clutched firmly the child’s shoulders. “There…Is…No…Other…Way…” the elder one articulated. “Remember? The Lore Halls. This is the shortest route. You don’t want to climb through the Teeth Mountains, do you?”
Freegirl sat in a daze, still. The look upon her face was a sad one. Then suddenly, a light soared from her left wrist and nailed the wall of the Re-Legion, to her right.
Elfen watched as a large chunk of rock tumbled from the point of hit and crashed into the river. As he observed the dislodged rock sink beneath the dark waters, he realized it could have hit them.
The bizarre incident astonished him to such a degree, he yanked his eyes back to the girl from where the jolt had originated. It stunned him for a moment and then frightened him—for he had no idea who his passenger really was.
Freegirl’s blank face came to life instantly, as her eyes darted to the golden chain of hearts attached to her left wrist. She had almost forgotten its existence and the message from the Vision.
If life became overwhelming and too much for Heart to handle, the gold links would become activated, and send her a burst of power.
Elfen was beginning to understand his odd companion. She had a very special force, bold and extraordinary, a magic deeper than most.
Was she an Image on her way home? No, that didn’t fit. If she was an Image, she could materialize there within moments and not put herself through such a traveling ordeal.
Who was she? Was the story of her sinking home the least bit real?
Elfen could see now it was not. There was more to her and this Lore Halls trip, than she was revealing.
He found he was staring at her.
Freegirl shook her head a little, and taking a long, slow breath through her nose, replied, “No… of course not. There is no other way.”
The Beast was still drifting. Seeing his passenger now composed, Elfen sprang into the oarseat and directed his ride upstream once more. But he could not stop turning around to glance at Freegirl. What did she mean by devils?
In the profoundly wide, and dimly lit cavern, the travelers moved slowly. In this world where scary stories about the tunnel were abundant, the travelers were nervous.
The only sounds were the oars hitting the water, and fast, heavy breathing. Elfen directed the vessel, while Freegirl sat on the bench behind him, unable to row. Both of them listened intently.
The realm of the monstrous tunnel was chilly; and the air was thick, not fresh. The Mona Fidelity packed plenty of sweaters and blankets—preparations for which Elfen was thankful.
Unexpectedly, he split the soundless air by blurting the question, “What did you mean by ‘devils’?”
Freegirl frowned. “Devils?” she repeated, with a look of numb recognition. What did that word mean? Was it a distant idea from a world buried in fear, or a concept as close as the tunnel, in which she now ventured?
At once, she recalled the horrible scream and looked anxiously around her in the dim torchlight, as if she expected to be attacked by another sharp sound. She took a deep breath, tried to relax her shoulders, and repeated the word softly, “devils”.
Elfen continued rowing, forever on alert, while awaiting her explanation.
Freegirl sighed, shaking her head, and finally explained, “Devils are imaginary creatures created by Fear.” She had nothing more to say, because she did not know what she was saying in the first place.
Again, Elfen watched his odd passenger, and then took notice of her golden chain. “What is on your wrist, Freegirl? What in the maze made that light?”
He looked toward the wall to his right. “Do you realize it took a chunk of rock out of the tunnel? I certainly hope it didn’t anger anyone.”
Now Freegirl was forced to think about the impossible—the night she disappeared from her home in Mount Gold. Something about an Angel, or an Image, leaving it for the One Daughter.
“Uh…uh…” she stammered. “I guess when I’m in danger, the chain connects me to a power source, like an Angel.”
The Rower of the Rivers pondered her answer. She did not seem sure of the purpose, or the potency of what she wore on her wrist. It was as if she was unmindful of the chain’s existence. This chain she wore could unleash a force in a random direction, and the child sitting behind him appeared to have no control over its strength.
“Aren’t each one of us already connected to a power source?” asked Elfen.
Freegirl considered his query, patiently. “Yes,” she answered. “But I suppose it’s possible to forget when frightened. A power object helps remind us.” The girl was tired. She lied down on the bench while Elfen rowed, and stared at the shadows on the wall, mesmerized in thought—a world of dimness surrounding her.
The tunnel in which they traversed was wounded. The girl could feel its pain. The wounds—a multitude of spiritual sores birthed out of Fear, hidden shadows where the injuries were left unseen—manifested.
What was the reason for this Fear? She could not imagine it, for the fear of an unseen threat was foreign to Photopia.
She could feel the fear. She could see, in her mind, the fear manifesting as wounds.
But why?
She thought about the grazers, and the Predators. Fear came to a grazer, the prey animal, only when he sensed a stalker in his midst. Otherwise, Fear was not a part of the animal’s world.
What was it besides being killed that gave the grazers fear of the hunter? Animals did not fear death, as any wounded, weak, or sick animal would quietly move away from the herd to die alone. They did not wail or complain. They just died.
And then it thumped her like a rock. Animals did not fear death, they feared opposition.
Opposition. It challenged one’s territory —and one’s stance. The very idea of opposition was scary.
She thought of her dad. Her father had always been her opponent. She had experienced opposition since the first time she mentioned she wanted to go to the Lore Halls.
Immediately he had replied, “You can become an Image here, in your own home.”
Freegirl was becoming very gloomy by the thoughts she was having. In her gut, a small sting had developed. She watched the sting and wondered what it meant. As she watched it, the sting grew.
It was cold and hollow, and spreading. It was a deep, frozen glacier filling her stomach and weighing her down. It was a difficult chill to understand—all consuming and cloudy that it was—but she knew its name, nonetheless.
It was Fear.
The sting was her alarm against thinking like her father.
In fact, his opposition had placed fear in her, unnoticed until this very moment.
She continued to analyze the Sting. No, it was not her father who created the burning in her gut, but rather her reaction to his opposition. Opposition might be scary, but it was the reaction to the opposition that disabled.
So, the wounds living in the cavern were from the fear of Opposition. How strange, she thought.
The stories about the Re-Legion were of unnatural storms—menacing weather patterns out of place in this region—that began occurring after a group of resident Images, known as the Waylords, had vanished.
Why was the disappearance of these masters connected to the sudden onslaught of violent weather? Did the Image, Innos, somehow transform the tunnel's energy? Why had she lived with walls, and alone? What type of Image would bring harm to her people?
None of it made sense to the young traveler. Her eyes absentmindedly noticed the rugged tunnel wall to the right. The shadows, created by the boat’s torches, flickered a series of illusions on the high rock overhead, and the ceiling.
Enclosed inside the Re-Legion, one not only felt removed from the real world and alone, but also understanding one’s actual location within this dark world was impossible.
The vagueness was overwhelming.
Fear. The girl lying on the bench, watching the faintly drawn ceiling pass overhead, could feel it.
It smelled.
She could feel the fear slip into her bones, pour into her blood, and ooze through her veins. And soon she was feeling very afraid.
She wanted to hide. Hide from what? The walls? The walls were barely visible in the torchlight and just land after all—Mother Nature within an envelope of rock.
The darkness? Who could hide from the darkness? Things were making no intelligence to the child. How does one hide from nothing, and why?
Slowly the realization crawled into her perspective.
She wanted to hide from the Fear she was feeling inside her bones, wanted to hide from her own life, wanted to hide from her Self.
Hiding from one’s Self was insanity, but she couldn’t stop the fearful thinking.
She had hidden only once in her life, and it was from a mountain lion when she was young. She had been running through the Swim Hills, and upon turning a path, she’d spotted a mountain lion sitting on a branch, in a tree.
It was watching her. Realizing her danger, she froze. Carefully, so carefully, she slithered along the trail, keeping an eye on the animal, keeping the peril in her vision, speaking slowly to the beast. “I will not hurt you,” she said. “I will not hurt you.”
Amazingly, she had found a small cave to slip into. Most likely, the cat had been full of meat and not interested in a small human. The child stayed in the cave for what seemed like an eternity, until her parents found her later that day.
Thunderbold had hugged her tightly, saying, “Isn’t it nice you chose the cave, that wasn’t the lion’s lair?”
She had not thought about that possibility before she’d stepped into the haven, but for years afterward, she continued to hear her father’s words. Isn’t it nice you chose the cave, that wasn’t the lion’s lair?
She was glad she seldom had to hide in life, for hiding was an illusion.
Then it hit her like a bat. She was always hiding. She had information in her head she’d been hiding since she was very young—prophetic information taking her years to understand, as indeed, she was still learning to understand. But it was impossible information, knowledge that went against the grain of her existence, a wisdom no one else believed.
And for this vision, she was forced to keep silent, forced to keep her thoughts hidden.
She hid her true soul and purpose, from everyone she knew.
She glanced at Elfen’s back. The Rower of the Rivers sat, methodically rowing.
Sighing a big sigh, Freegirl leaped from her resting position and grabbed her oars. Revived and determined, she began to help him power the Mona Fidelity through the enormous tunnel of fear. The tunnel of wounds. The tunnel of hiding. The mysterious tunnel of the Re-Legion.
They rowed deeper into the cave quietly. The horrible scream they'd heard earlier was replaced by a foreboding silence, almost as if the silence screamed. It was entrancing, hypnotic and rendered a weakness to the travelers.
The clarity in their minds was becoming foggy. Unlike the gentle trance created when they were rowing nonstop and chanting, this sensation was intoxicating, and dangerous to the senses. They were becoming numb.
Freegirl spoke lightly to Elfen, “I’m not feeling easy about this. Are you noticing it? I’m getting very sleepy…”
“Me, too,” agreed the man. “I don’t remember the atmosphere being so strong. I knew the oxygen was thinner in here than outside, but I do not recall such heaviness. We have a long way to go before we see the sky and the Fireye, so keep breathing!”
Three weeks. They would be moving through this tunnel for three weeks—total darkness, hollow and dank, a dimly lit passage full of shadows and illusions, a dull, singular column with two directions only, one that lead back from where they came, and the other that led deeper into the gloom.
For what seemed like a lifetime, Freegirl experienced severe anxiety. She wanted out now. She remembered how claustrophobic she had felt while submerged beneath the great trees along the river’s edge. That, at least, had been refreshing.
But here in the cavern, the inability to see the sky—the inability to see the light was daunting. The feeling of being trapped and controlled by a superior force was daunting. The sensation she would never escape, like being buried alive, was daunting—and this opposing sensation overwhelmed her.
As usual, Freegirl’s thoughts were stirring her into a restless state—scared and forlorn. As she compared the cavern to her forest memories, she felt the giant trees were serenity, compared to where she was now.
She focused upon smooth breathing—gentle air flowing through the nostrils and back out again. Sensual, soft breathing, to clear the mind and create a floating atmosphere, a delicate passage to lift her out of her anxiety.
And then a great smile slapped her in the face. She could still remember the Circle of Secrets! The huge grove of greenery hiding in the grasses of Shadow Meadow!
Yes! Some things did hide! The Sauls were hiders. What secrets did they keep? She pictured Leaven Featherly floating—his people floating, and all the horses running. And all of them were lifted into the air by the sheer power of oxygen.
In Freegirl’s mind, she floated in the Verdure Ring with the airwalkers. Breathing the air, she returned to her center and remained calm.
As she calmed her spirit, she recalled a very beautiful memory of her and Tyber, and the horses.
The territory within the giant grove was almost completely enveloped in green. She could see the
dark greens, moss greens, pale fluorescent greens, and avocado-greens weaving through the beautiful pines of the sky, and gaining access into her mind. The ground held the gorgeous trunks of green in root.
Winds traveled lightly across this ocean of wild green.
And then there were the horses. Every color of the Mother’s soil imaginable was present.
Hundreds of equine beauties stood in the shade of the giant trees, or galloped under the fading sun—a force of power punctuating the meadow of the greens.
“So the horses know…” contemplated Freegirl, aloud, while sitting under the huge oaktree, near the encircling treewall.
“Yea…strange…” responded Tyber. “Whatever could Leaven Featherly mean?”
“Well, every animal has weather instinct, knows where to be, and where not to be,” answered Freegirl.
“Yes, but humans have weather instinct, too. I think he meant something else. He spoke as if it was special knowledge, and remember, he touched his nose.”
“Oh…yea…he touched his nose… And what did he say as he was leaving? It was something about catching the breath.” Freegirl pondered a moment, and then she added, “How do you suppose he could float so easily without meditating first. Even the best airwalkers of my home can’t float that easily.”
“The Circle of Secrets…” Tyber enunciated.
Suddenly, a strong gust of wind swirled through the trees and into the meadow. All horses immediately began prancing and bouncing and tossing their heads. Even Wilson, who was tethered to the tree, reacted by hopping and snorting into the scattering airs.
When the winds died as quickly as they had come, the horses instantly resumed grazing, sedation coming quickly.
After a short amount of time, the heavy breeze commenced its deliberate agitation again, only this time it was stronger and longer. Now the valley was full of slapping winds, and the leaves and needles of the great treewall responded with thick, chaotic whispers. The horses lifted their heads high and arched their necks, as if to answer the wind’s call. Then they whinnied and snorted, into the spinning air, wildly.
Tyber sprang to his feet to calm Wilson—the animal was very near to pulling his tethers from the branch, charge into the winds, and join the free equine dancers.
The horses of the Verdure Ring did not stop. They danced and stomped, and threw their heads. They nodded forcefully towards the ground their muzzles, and let the shifting breeze tousle their manes—luxurious manes whipping in the winds. Most of them arched their tails high, tossing their long, streaming hair towards the sky. Flowing like waterfalls, their tails flew back and forth with the gales, weaving. They moved their necks like careful snakes, stretching the vertebrae of their spines.
“Ohhhh!” Freegirl jumped to her feet with exclamation. “They are so beautiful!” She twirled around and ran into the winds with them. “Yes!” she reached her hands to the sky, calling and running. She glanced at Tyber who was talking gently to Wilson, reminding the stallion he could run later.
She shouted to the boy while twirling. “The horses knowww!” She was totally electric, as she wildly bounced near the edge of the exuberant horses. “They know how to dance with the winds!”
Tyber watched her and laughed.
Then, unexpectedly, the winds stopped their blow, as if they’d never blown. Inspired by the sudden cessation, the horses, too—like leaves falling out of the air—stopped their gusty play.
At the abrupt absence of the wild airwaves, the horses calmed—leaves floating back to the ground, the whirling atmosphere having dropped them.
A few horses, however, still bounced to the wind inside themselves, needing more time to tame their electricity.
Though the winds and the horses had settled, Freegirl was eager as ever. She ran from the edge of the herd, where she had been leaping, and charged practically into Tyber. With her arms waving, she gasped excitedly, “I know what the horses know! I know what the horses know!” She was breathing deeply and loudly. “They know how to breathe!” With her arms still flying, she twirled toward Tyber, who ducked in time. “They know how to breathe, Tyber!”
“Yes, I’m sure they do!” Tyber responded, with a half joy, as he was mostly bewildered. The winds had not affected him as intensely as they had his unique companion. He was more concentrated on keeping Wilson from losing himself in the herd.
“You know when a human runs,” she panted deeply, “we breathe through our mouths because our nostrils are too tiny to take in large amounts of air.” She was full of exhilaration.
Tyber nodded.
“Well, our brains are not getting their direct hit of oxygen, if we are not breathing through our nostrils.”
“I suppose not,” replied the boy.
“So when we run, the oxygen does not go to our brains first, as it should.” With a gesture of her hand to her head, she added, “After all, the brain controls the messages to the nerves, like the captain controls the messages to the crew.
“Very thoughtful,” said Tyber, smiling.
“Well, if the brain is not getting direct air while running—because our nostrils are not large enough—then our brains are not getting their hit. Even taking huge gulps of air through the mouth is not the same as a direct hit through the nostrils.” She kept pointing to the side of her nose.
“What does this have to do with the horses knowing?” asked Tyber, gently, but with a slight frown.
“Well, the horses never open their mouths while running! They open their nostrils!” She was proudly smiling, for she was very pleased with her innovative mind.
Tyber returned the smile, but was not sure what his friend was inferring.
“The oxygen goes straight to their brains, Tyber. Can you imagine that much air slamming directly into your brain? Our heads would burst!”
“Yes, I guess they would,” he answered, quietly.
“But the horses just flair open their nostrils and run faster!” Her grin was huge.
“So what do the horses know?”
“They know how to breathe, you silly! Through their nostrils! They are more advanced than we realize, for every time they need more oxygen, they flare open their nostrils!”
Tyber looked curiously at her, then laughed. “I get it! The nostrils are the most powerful passages for breathing, because they send the oxygen directly to the brain. And since the brain is the captain of the crew, it makes sense the air should go to him first!”
They both took a very long breath of air, slowly through their nostrils, filling their heads first, then their lungs and bellies—their chests and stomachs rising. They flared their nostrils and breathed like the horses.
The winds of the meadow began twirling and crackling the leaves, as light bird-laughter hovered in the background. Tyber did not seem to notice it, as he breathed in the moving air, but Freegirl imagined she saw Leaven Featherly sitting gracefully in a high treetop in the distance.
The children stood under the oaktree next to the stallion, inhaling the spinning, gentle breeze. Moving the air, the forces that vibrate the heavens played with the planet to breathe the winds.
“Isn’t it amazing how the air changes so rapidly?” mused Freegirl.
“And why think you this?” came a voice from the sky.
Freegirl and Tyber looked upward and saw Leaven Featherly sitting high in one of the tall pines, above their heads.
There he was elevated, as he ever gently floated from the branch, down to the children. Holding his right elbow in his left hand, he touched his nose with the first finger of his right hand. “Yes,” said Leaven, smiling. “The air can change into many forms, for many reasons. Can you guess which is the most important reason for its changing into the wind?”
“To make the horses run!” answered Tyber, enthusiastically, knowing quite well his answer was ludicrous.
“Yeah!” agreed Freegirl, giggling and spinning.
Leaven Featherly smiled with the children brightly. “With the running of the horses, we can remember to touch the wind.” he said. “The wind is a presence to enhance our breathing— the most important reason for the air to change form.”
“What about the wind’s effects upon the shaping of the land?” asked Tyber. “Isn’t that more important than reminding humans to breathe?”
“Think closer to it,” said the elder one. “Do you know what is birthed when persons of focus are aware of their breath? What happens when the oxygen they direct upon command, does focus upon a chosen body part? What happens when they watch the air stroll in,” he inhaled long and deep through his nostrils, “and watch the air stroll out?” Then he exhaled slowly.
“They reach Image states, and can walk on the water,” answered Freegirl. “They can…” her eyes moved over Leaven’s body, and with a face that seemed to go numb, she whispered, “float.”
“Yes, Freegirl. All power belongs to the Breath Controllers. All power. Floating is only the beginning. When a human has this much power, they literally command the planet, and all of its elements, and all the celestial bodies as well. I’ll lay you this. A human with that much breath awareness can move the mountains faster than the wind ever could.”
Leaven watched his words penetrate their minds. He squinted intently, and observed their eyes swell with the realization of having that much power. “So if there were no winds, air would be too easy to forget. And if we forgot about the air, we could forget about our Breathing.”
The children listened closely. “Is that why you touch your nose,” asked Tyber, “to remind yourself to breathe?”
“Indeed,” answered the wise man, “and to remind others. Then I float to stimulate the possibilities.”
The two visitors remained silent.
“Breathe the air,” Leaven said, “and ponder its sensation…through your nose.” Then Leaven Featherly was peacefully lifted into the air by an invisible force called Breathing, and he floated away from sight.
They watched him elevate into the distant trees, and after awhile Freegirl said, “I guess the horses do know.”
“Yeah,” answered Tyber.
And once more, the couple sat by the tree that held Wilson, and quietly considered Leaven Featherly's words—breathing.
Freegirl came out of her reverie. Breathing.
Elfen was in perfect rhythm, rowing before her. She saw the dim, shadowy wall on her right, and the black ceiling overhead.
With melancholy, she realized she was still rowing… rowing…
Rowing…
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