Tangled Dreams

 

Flash Forward     Afterwards and Yet Before.

 

The young man and the old moved as silently as they could over the frost-bitten ground. It was, although Spring, bitterly cold and, but for their Shields they would have needed a great deal more clothing. Ordinaries, those without the Talents and Gifts, did need heavier clothes, many had died of cold and more had died from disease.

 

The boy and his grandfather were stalking a fine Billy goat on the slopes of Yr Wyddfa for the feast. Outsiders, that is those from beyond the mountains way to the east of the Off-Shore Island, called it Snowdon. Not that many Outsiders made the journey this far west; not that there were many people left on the Islands: a few of the oldest could remember when there had been millions. But some were on their way now. The old man hunting the goat with his grandson was leader of the Clan and had told his people that Outsiders were coming. He had been Mind Blending with the Outsider’s leader, Jem Smith. Jem had told him that they had some Ordinaries with them who were suffering badly from the bitter cold. The Friends were doing all they could to ease their discomfort but short of re-wiring their brains, as yet impossible, all The Friends could do was make sure that fires they lit every night stayed in and kept the travellers warm. And when on the march, The Friends extended their shields to keep as much of the weather off as possible.

 

This was no ordinary winter and Owain knew that. He had seen in his mother’s mind what an ordinary winter was. What the whole world was experiencing now, his mother had told him, was called ‘a nuclear winter’ which was a kind of false one. A made up one, but created on this occasion by humanity. There had been several over the last years. They lasted long, months and months longer than they should, and all plant life suffered and therefore animals did too. Owain knew, from his mother, father and others in The Clan, that things could have been much worse, and but for the Talents possessed by The Friends they would have been; it was likely more of those who now lived would have died. But for The Friends there would be less than there was to harvest, though even with all their work there was little enough, even for them. And for the huge numbers of People Before he had ‘seen’ there had been – the numbers were so massive he could not really comprehend them – he did not know how it would have been possible to feed them at all.

 

The goat, which was close to an area known as Rainbow Walls -- why the place possessed the name no one now knew but it was well named for even in the weak winter sunlight, the wet rock glistened like a million rainbows -- was for the Feast. It was to be Special Feast for the Great Story Telling. This year was The Third Decade since the cataclysm which had all but wiped out humanity altogether.

 

The boy was excited for it would be special to him. It coincided with his birthday and this would be his first attendance at a Full Tale Telling. And within the Clan he was special because he was one of the few; he was Homo Mentalis not Homo Sapiens, and had bred true; he was not in any way mutated. Not that anyone appeared to have suffered the terrible mutations so often predicted in the old science fiction stories about post atomic wars. There were no two headed animals or children with three arms or legs, except vestigial ones. Nor did there appear to be more congenital idiots than there would have been had no nuclear weapons ever been used.

 

Now, at the twelfth anniversary of his birth, he had learned to understand and accept that Ordinaries suffered a kind of disability. They could not see into a friend’s mind and feel the real warmth and comfort that only a mind to mind communication could give. Nor could they Still a pain or heal injuries – some Healers were very skilled, and could mend broken and twisted minds – nor could they Lift at all, not even over short distances. And for them, unless they actually spoke, the inner mind was a solitary, silent and lonely place. Owain felt a flash of pity for them but his grandfather instantly warned him not to think that way. He reminded him that Ordinaries did possess other gifts the Friends either did not have or were not good at. Ordinaries could carve and sculpt, seeing in their minds the shape that lay hidden in a piece of rock or block of wood. They could paint and they made music with physical instruments, music that was just as beautiful, though different, to that the Friends made with their minds alone.

 

- What will the Story Teller tell us? Will there be talk of The Fire Dragon?– his thoughts thundered into his grandfather’s mind. The man shook himself a little at the raw power emanating from the boy, then gave him a loving thump on the shoulder, physically, and verbalised into the biting wind.

 

“You have to contain yourself, Owain.” He grinned at the crestfallen look and eased the impatience behind Owain’s eyes. He gestured towards the billygoat which had run up the rock and was outlined against the sky. The clouds broke and for an instant the sun shone through; a beam of light like a lamp, highlighting the animal.

 

“There, now, your eyes are better than mine and you have the skill, shoot now!” Owain’s grandfather urged. Owain knew his grandfather was not being entirely truthful, his was as good with a bow as Owain himself was. But he was grateful that the old man stood aside and let him make the ceremonial kill. So without further question Owain raised the long bow and, allowing for the cross wind, sent an arrow clear and true, felling the beast and killing it instantly. Then between them the old man and the young, reached out with their minds and lifted the carcass from the ledge onto which it had fallen and drew it down to the ground at their feet.

 

- A fine kill, Owain – his grandfather’s thought broke through the lad’s reverie.

 

- Thank you grandfather, and thank you again for letting come with you to hunt for the goat – Usually the Clan left the wild goats of Snowdon alone. It was because of some historical reason that no one was quite sure about anymore. But they were only killed for special occasions.

 

- Will we be in communion with other Friends across the World? – Owain enquired. The boy’s mind sparkled like water in sunlight. His grandfather laughed aloud and ‘underneath.’

 

- Yes Owain, and I expect The Koestler will be there, he is unlikely to miss the birthday of his best pupil’s son –

 

Owain blushed and shut both his mouth and mind but to his grandfather the lad’s thoughts were clear and eager. His pride at being chosen was open to any who possessed the Gifts and Talents and could read him.

 

Now they had to get the animal back to the village which huddled in a valley against the south west side of the mountain. Owain allowed his thoughts to wander as they ‘lifted’ the goat between them and walked slowly downhill and to the village. Tonight he would learn the answers to questions that had plagued his intelligent and inquisitive mind almost from the moment when he ‘lifted’ himself out of his cradle to reach his mother in her chair where she had sat knitting. Tonight he would learn the history of humanity and the great Dying Time. The Ordinaries had thought it was the end of the world, the end of humanity. A few of the remaining extreme religious sects had accused The Friends of doing the Devil’s work; but once they had been shown the Truth in all its Glory and had been Healed, their passions were calmed and they saw The Friends were no threat to their narrow beliefs. Most relinquished them and changed from their old ways. Those beliefs had almost destroyed humanity. Many succeeded in coming to terms with this new and strange world, following The Friends even though they could never be wholly part of any Clan. No one who possessed the Talents could believe as Ordinaries had done and a few, a very few in very isolated places, still did.

 

Owain knew much of the Story Weaving would be painful for the Tale Teller; it would be for those who could listen with more than just their ears too. But the Tradition of Telling the Tale had rapidly become established during the bitter, dark days of the Nuclear Winter and the Pandemic. The leaders amongst those who had survived, Ordinaries and The Friends, had decided that it had to be told because those who forget their history are doomed to repeat it.

 

Tonight would seem a long time coming but it would come and with it the Friends from the east, and the Ordinaries with them, who had travelled for several weeks across the island to get here. Had there been no Ordinaries the Friends would have Lifted. Owain knew such Gatherings would be taking place across the entire World. This one happened to be special to him because of his birthday. But also because he knew his grandfather was one of the few still alive who could actually remember the Great Death. Ah well tonight would come, tonight would come ...

His grandfather, behind his ‘personal shield’ which his grandson could not penetrate, thought fondly of his wife, Sharon. Bill, for a few moments during which he stretched Time, used the method taught him by a Friend from across the seas. Deep inside he saw the Past as if it were the Now, and all within a split second……….Listen to the wind and read on.