Woodroam
May 26th, 2012, 09:09 PM
"Close the doors, you uninitiated" Orpheus
Welcome
The legend of the Cole children is so astonishing that anyone ever hearing it must say Karolyn and Michael Cole are the greatest heroes who ever breathed air or swam in the sea. But, who knows of their legend? Do you? Quite unlikely. No one, not even you, would have thought the Cole children capable of great deeds in the beginning. The kids at their schools thought they were rather strange, when they thought of them, and most others ignored them or didn’t even notice. They were just a couple of regular kids from the city. They lived in Berkeley, California, a small city across the bay from San Francisco. Michael went to a public high school, Karolyn to a catholic school. They lived in an ordinary brown house on Third Avenue, and weren’t really noticed by anybody when they walked down the street. At that time, Michael was small for his age and rather thin with dark hair and jade green eyes. He liked to play video games, particularly combat video games and he was rather good at them. Karolyn had red hair, the same green eyes, and was an inch taller than Michael. She liked to read and was good at Girl’s Track, especially the hurdles. No one would have guessed they were twins, or brother and sister for that matter, yet they were fraternal twins, born on the same day and of the same mother. There were some remarkable doings when they were born, extraordinary most would say, but I will leave that out for now and perhaps tell you later.
Now of course, after all they have done, having become famous, and well -- legendary, it is easy to see the clues that led to their greatness. Even before the Cole children were born, there were clues: The mysterious appearance of their mother was the first. Her name was Harmony, a name that she said fit the occasion, and indeed, it did. Yet that wasn’t her real name; she chose the name at the very moment that she first saw Sam, the Cole children’s father, when he was hanging upside down in that crevasse in the glacier on Mount Shasta. But don’t let me get ahead of the story without first introducing myself: Of course, you know my name from the title page or book jacket, but if not, if you skipped over that part in a hurry to find out what this book is about, then go back and look again. I want you to make a habit of careful reading. What I’m going to tell you in this book is not a made up tale, make-believe, or a fantasy. Though you probably found it in the fantasy section of some bookstore or library, this is a true story and it requires careful reading. You see, I am not really an author, a writer, or a fabricator of tales. I’m a translator. The story of the Cole children was copied and compiled from a number of sources, including their own journals and those of their father, the reed scrolls of rooks, the hoof-beaten clay tablets of a herd of unicorns, several eyewitness accounts, and hundreds of old tattered parchment books from the archives of Gaff himself. The story was gathered by me over the course of a number of years, some here and some there, many more years than I care to count, and has been very carefully transcribed.
I’m sure you are thinking that this is quite fanciful and a clever way to trick you into believing a story that can’t possibly be true, that unicorns don’t exist and that a rook, defined by the Merriam-Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary as a common Old World gregarious bird (Corvus frugilegus) about the size and color of the American crow with the skin about the base of the bill becoming bare, scabrous, and whitish with age, do not, in your world, keep scrolls of any kind. You don’t have any idea who Gaff is, nor know why he has an archive of tattered books and when I explain that he is a dragon, the greatest creator dragon of all, the father of all dragons; you’re going to be even more convinced that this is all make-believe. However, I assure you that it is not. It is all real. It did happen. As you read on you will come to know this and it will make sense to you because so much of it explains everything else that has been a mystery and eluded explanation though you have always known in your heart that it is true.
In the Beginning, or in the Middle, and also near the Beginning of the End
Harmony walked softly, deliberately lowering each foot carefully to the worn wooden steps leading from the second floor to the foyer. She placed her bare feet in the spots she had learned would not creak to reveal her movement. She stepped over the seventh stair from the top as she knew it always creaked and groaned. It was perhaps the most obstinate board in the entire house. She paused at the bottom of the flight of stairs and listened. She could hear her new father-in-law Robert’s snore in the back bedroom. She heard the drip of the upstairs bathroom faucet. No sound came from her sister-in-law Genevieve’s room and she surmised Gen was sleeping soundly. She also knew her husband was asleep as she had left his bed just a moment before.
Carefully, she opened the back porch screen door, taking her time so the hinges wouldn’t squeak. She stepped out into the cool night, softly closing the door and breathed a quite sigh. No one in the house had heard. She looked around. The moon was almost full, rising over the treetops in the east, and its light made it easy to cross the farmyard to the barn. Still, she padded quietly, taking care with each step, trying not to disturb a grain of sand or turn a single pebble that might awaken the chickens and start them clucking. If they did, the whole house would awaken as Robert would come banging out, grumbling about being awaken, clutching his shotgun to ensure the fox wasn’t trying to steal the chickens again.
The farm yard was oddly quiet and she thought how strange it was that just eight hours before all of the wedding guests had departed. She had been married that same morning, right there inside the barn that she now approached like a thief sneaking through the night. In the glow of the rising moon the worn grooves of the barn boards glistened, making the front of that old barn look like it was coated with spun silver. Moving quickly to the corner she stepped into the shadows and looked back over her shoulder once more to make sure no lights had come on in the house. She continued along the side of the barn until reaching the back and rounded its corner. At first, she didn’t see him and wondered if he had left. Then he appeared from the shadows of the dark barn wood, as if stepping from the boards themselves, his form gathering from the wood’s weathered grain and the night’s cool shadows. He stood before her, dull blue cape resting lightly on his shoulders and high yellow boots with their tops turned down below the knees, a stout hardwood staff at his side. The bright moonlight made his hair appear like a crashing wave of silver cascading on the shore of his shoulders. The glow also shown in his eyes, lending them an even greater luminescence than their usual cast.
Harmony felt dread in her heart. An old man, a human, bent and grey, bowed toward her. “Lilith,” he whispered. She offered her hand and he gently took it in his, continuing his bow until his lips lightly touched her skin. “He doesn’t know? No one knows?” he inquired.
“I’ve done as you instructed, Olannon. No one knows. But I wish I could tell him.”
“It isn’t safe,” answered Olannon. “Difficult it is, but it must be to protect the children. Even now, the Vagabond has sent a pack of trackers into the northern mountains.”
“The passage, is it sealed?”
“It is sealed. From the other side the doorway will appear as a rough hewn wall of rock where miners quit following a vein of ore.”
“They’re safe then. The children can grow here. None will follow.”
“Nay, M’lady. He’ll send others, night creatures most likely, thought stealers, through the shadows of night to strangle them in their sleep. That’s why you must do all I’ve asked. They mustn’t know you.”
“But Sam, he’ll….” Harmony’s voice faltered and the words stuck in her throat. It seemed impossible to her that she could find the courage required to do what he was asking.
Olannon’s hand rose in a hushing gesture, his tone softening yet commanding. “He cannot know,” he whispered. “I know you think it cruel to him and the children, but think of what would happen. If they find him and read his memories of you, if you tell him the truth and he remembers it, all will be lost.”
Harmony nodded with resolve. She bit down on her lower lip to stay the pain that was burning deep inside. She resolved not to cry.
“Remember, no later than the first winter. They’ll be safe with Sam. After tonight, my power will cease. I will not even remember this night,” he said. “I will be as an old man, living in these woods, a recluse. It is the only way to keep them from reading my mind and discovering the secret.”
“Your power? You cast it away? How can you protect the children?’
Olannon lifted his eyes to meet hers. “It is without that power that they are safest. Still, if all goes as planned, I will assist them. The old man that I will be shall direct them onto the path and they will lead me back. Here, take this.” He reached into a pouch that hung from a belt beneath his cape and pulled from it a small object. Reaching out, he handed her a shiny stick of charcoal.
Harmony peered at glossy black stick resting in her palm. She looked questioningly into Olannon’s eyes.
“It will help her when the time comes. Remember, take nothing with you. If they find on your dress as much as the wing of a fly from here the children will be in danger.”
Welcome
The legend of the Cole children is so astonishing that anyone ever hearing it must say Karolyn and Michael Cole are the greatest heroes who ever breathed air or swam in the sea. But, who knows of their legend? Do you? Quite unlikely. No one, not even you, would have thought the Cole children capable of great deeds in the beginning. The kids at their schools thought they were rather strange, when they thought of them, and most others ignored them or didn’t even notice. They were just a couple of regular kids from the city. They lived in Berkeley, California, a small city across the bay from San Francisco. Michael went to a public high school, Karolyn to a catholic school. They lived in an ordinary brown house on Third Avenue, and weren’t really noticed by anybody when they walked down the street. At that time, Michael was small for his age and rather thin with dark hair and jade green eyes. He liked to play video games, particularly combat video games and he was rather good at them. Karolyn had red hair, the same green eyes, and was an inch taller than Michael. She liked to read and was good at Girl’s Track, especially the hurdles. No one would have guessed they were twins, or brother and sister for that matter, yet they were fraternal twins, born on the same day and of the same mother. There were some remarkable doings when they were born, extraordinary most would say, but I will leave that out for now and perhaps tell you later.
Now of course, after all they have done, having become famous, and well -- legendary, it is easy to see the clues that led to their greatness. Even before the Cole children were born, there were clues: The mysterious appearance of their mother was the first. Her name was Harmony, a name that she said fit the occasion, and indeed, it did. Yet that wasn’t her real name; she chose the name at the very moment that she first saw Sam, the Cole children’s father, when he was hanging upside down in that crevasse in the glacier on Mount Shasta. But don’t let me get ahead of the story without first introducing myself: Of course, you know my name from the title page or book jacket, but if not, if you skipped over that part in a hurry to find out what this book is about, then go back and look again. I want you to make a habit of careful reading. What I’m going to tell you in this book is not a made up tale, make-believe, or a fantasy. Though you probably found it in the fantasy section of some bookstore or library, this is a true story and it requires careful reading. You see, I am not really an author, a writer, or a fabricator of tales. I’m a translator. The story of the Cole children was copied and compiled from a number of sources, including their own journals and those of their father, the reed scrolls of rooks, the hoof-beaten clay tablets of a herd of unicorns, several eyewitness accounts, and hundreds of old tattered parchment books from the archives of Gaff himself. The story was gathered by me over the course of a number of years, some here and some there, many more years than I care to count, and has been very carefully transcribed.
I’m sure you are thinking that this is quite fanciful and a clever way to trick you into believing a story that can’t possibly be true, that unicorns don’t exist and that a rook, defined by the Merriam-Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary as a common Old World gregarious bird (Corvus frugilegus) about the size and color of the American crow with the skin about the base of the bill becoming bare, scabrous, and whitish with age, do not, in your world, keep scrolls of any kind. You don’t have any idea who Gaff is, nor know why he has an archive of tattered books and when I explain that he is a dragon, the greatest creator dragon of all, the father of all dragons; you’re going to be even more convinced that this is all make-believe. However, I assure you that it is not. It is all real. It did happen. As you read on you will come to know this and it will make sense to you because so much of it explains everything else that has been a mystery and eluded explanation though you have always known in your heart that it is true.
In the Beginning, or in the Middle, and also near the Beginning of the End
Harmony walked softly, deliberately lowering each foot carefully to the worn wooden steps leading from the second floor to the foyer. She placed her bare feet in the spots she had learned would not creak to reveal her movement. She stepped over the seventh stair from the top as she knew it always creaked and groaned. It was perhaps the most obstinate board in the entire house. She paused at the bottom of the flight of stairs and listened. She could hear her new father-in-law Robert’s snore in the back bedroom. She heard the drip of the upstairs bathroom faucet. No sound came from her sister-in-law Genevieve’s room and she surmised Gen was sleeping soundly. She also knew her husband was asleep as she had left his bed just a moment before.
Carefully, she opened the back porch screen door, taking her time so the hinges wouldn’t squeak. She stepped out into the cool night, softly closing the door and breathed a quite sigh. No one in the house had heard. She looked around. The moon was almost full, rising over the treetops in the east, and its light made it easy to cross the farmyard to the barn. Still, she padded quietly, taking care with each step, trying not to disturb a grain of sand or turn a single pebble that might awaken the chickens and start them clucking. If they did, the whole house would awaken as Robert would come banging out, grumbling about being awaken, clutching his shotgun to ensure the fox wasn’t trying to steal the chickens again.
The farm yard was oddly quiet and she thought how strange it was that just eight hours before all of the wedding guests had departed. She had been married that same morning, right there inside the barn that she now approached like a thief sneaking through the night. In the glow of the rising moon the worn grooves of the barn boards glistened, making the front of that old barn look like it was coated with spun silver. Moving quickly to the corner she stepped into the shadows and looked back over her shoulder once more to make sure no lights had come on in the house. She continued along the side of the barn until reaching the back and rounded its corner. At first, she didn’t see him and wondered if he had left. Then he appeared from the shadows of the dark barn wood, as if stepping from the boards themselves, his form gathering from the wood’s weathered grain and the night’s cool shadows. He stood before her, dull blue cape resting lightly on his shoulders and high yellow boots with their tops turned down below the knees, a stout hardwood staff at his side. The bright moonlight made his hair appear like a crashing wave of silver cascading on the shore of his shoulders. The glow also shown in his eyes, lending them an even greater luminescence than their usual cast.
Harmony felt dread in her heart. An old man, a human, bent and grey, bowed toward her. “Lilith,” he whispered. She offered her hand and he gently took it in his, continuing his bow until his lips lightly touched her skin. “He doesn’t know? No one knows?” he inquired.
“I’ve done as you instructed, Olannon. No one knows. But I wish I could tell him.”
“It isn’t safe,” answered Olannon. “Difficult it is, but it must be to protect the children. Even now, the Vagabond has sent a pack of trackers into the northern mountains.”
“The passage, is it sealed?”
“It is sealed. From the other side the doorway will appear as a rough hewn wall of rock where miners quit following a vein of ore.”
“They’re safe then. The children can grow here. None will follow.”
“Nay, M’lady. He’ll send others, night creatures most likely, thought stealers, through the shadows of night to strangle them in their sleep. That’s why you must do all I’ve asked. They mustn’t know you.”
“But Sam, he’ll….” Harmony’s voice faltered and the words stuck in her throat. It seemed impossible to her that she could find the courage required to do what he was asking.
Olannon’s hand rose in a hushing gesture, his tone softening yet commanding. “He cannot know,” he whispered. “I know you think it cruel to him and the children, but think of what would happen. If they find him and read his memories of you, if you tell him the truth and he remembers it, all will be lost.”
Harmony nodded with resolve. She bit down on her lower lip to stay the pain that was burning deep inside. She resolved not to cry.
“Remember, no later than the first winter. They’ll be safe with Sam. After tonight, my power will cease. I will not even remember this night,” he said. “I will be as an old man, living in these woods, a recluse. It is the only way to keep them from reading my mind and discovering the secret.”
“Your power? You cast it away? How can you protect the children?’
Olannon lifted his eyes to meet hers. “It is without that power that they are safest. Still, if all goes as planned, I will assist them. The old man that I will be shall direct them onto the path and they will lead me back. Here, take this.” He reached into a pouch that hung from a belt beneath his cape and pulled from it a small object. Reaching out, he handed her a shiny stick of charcoal.
Harmony peered at glossy black stick resting in her palm. She looked questioningly into Olannon’s eyes.
“It will help her when the time comes. Remember, take nothing with you. If they find on your dress as much as the wing of a fly from here the children will be in danger.”