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Rion was a sailor. He, like all the other sailing folk, lived on the coast. He sailed a huge catamaran, about forty-five feet long, incorporating a cantilevered, dual-wing design. The cat’s shallow draft made her perfect for sailing amongst the profuse, shallow reefs to the north of where he lived. If he ever needed to, like for example if he needed to navigate close to dangerous reefs, he could drop the wings, they folded up like macramé, engage either or both of the gravity sails embedded in the twin sterns of the hulls and have precise telepathic control of his boat.
Rion lived about fifteen-hundred kilometres north of the Eos valley. A thousand kilometres of desert separated the southern alpine region from the northern subtropical region. The desert coast ended abruptly in tall, vertical, ocean cliffs. When ocean swells smashed into the cliffs, they rebounded back out to sea with almost equal energy. This caused a confused ocean and extremely unpleasant sailing. Because of this, and despite the fact that there were many sailing folk living on both sides of the great desert, not many crossed it. Thus, the two cultures evolved along divergent lines. This was well exemplified in the differing designs of their sailboats.
The sailing folk of Rama kept a dinghy strapped to the decks of their boats. Unlike dinghies on Earth, which were the size of rowboats and were mostly towed behind the main vessel, Raman dinghies flew. They were mostly open and dish shaped typically incorporating a couple of seats and a small cargo area in the rear. Their mode of propulsion was gravitational and their mode of control was telepathic. They were usually made custom-fitted to the shape of the sailboat so they were secure on deck and offered little wind resistance.
The dinghies rarely flew faster than around two hundred miles per hour. They incorporated clear, flip-up windscreens in their designs and the occupants often wore tight-fitting, flying caps and goggles, all for the wind, which, by the way, they loved. They generally kept a social circle not much farther than about an hour flying time in a dinghy.
Rion lived with his wife Sattva. They lived in the southern part of the subtropical zone. The Great Reef began less than fifty miles up the coast. They lived in a beautiful,
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timber, levitation house, located just inside a sandy river mouth, adjacent to a pristine beach.
Semi-attached to the house was a jetty where the boat lived. At the rear of the house was a stone stairway that led to a garage in the side of a cliff. It was a perfectly excavated, rectangular hole in the rock wall. Rion parked his space ship, as well as his dinghy, in the garage. Behind the parked vehicles, along the rear wall, Rion had his workshop.
Rion’s many escapades, particularly in his youth, had him making friends all over the place. He found Maximillian, the sailsmith, and made his acquaintance. He had also spent much time sailing north into the tropics. He explored the upper reaches of the revered Mystic River, which, to his stupefaction, more than lived up to its name. It led him deep into the ancient Delphian Forest. The colossal trees that grew there were thousands of years old. Their lives spanned many generations of the Rama and every elder of the trees had a sacred name.
The deeper Rion sailed up the snaking Mystic the more otherworldly it became. He was entering the land of The Ilf, the people that lived like birds, in trees, and just flew around everywhere. They did not reach out for anyone and were nourished by the abundance of the forest that surrounded them. Rion befriended one during one of his explorations. An Ilf male, called Saek, approached Rion out of admiration for the pleasing lines of his vessel. He flew over the water and cautiously approached the boat. He sensed a tranquil man. He appeared in Rion’s mind as the head of a Sparrowhawk. Rion was used to such introductions. Realities entering realities was the telepathic language. When two people met from different places, telepathy often remained the only form of communication. Luckily, as it turned out, Rion and Saek did not have such problems. Their languages were both derived from the same mother tongue. They just spoke with extremely different accents and there were a few uncommon words.
Saek pointed to himself and said, ‘Hello, I be Saek.’
Rion pointed to himself and said, ‘And I am Rion.’
And thus, a friendship began, as well as a trading alliance.
Saek wanted to know where Rion was from and what he was doing there. Rion told him that he was exploring. ‘I love the adventure,’ he said. He also told him that he was a trader of valued things. Saek told Rion that skins were very valued by the Ilf. Skins were the body-hugging, levitation suits that were controlled telepathically. Then he said that he could trade Fish for skins. Fish was extremely valued by all Rama and only the Ilf knew
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how to make it. Well, Rion was a trader. Although he had dabbled in a variety of desirable goods through the years, he eventually settled into the skins for Fish trade with the Ilf through Saek. He procured the skins from Ada and Max, the Sailsmiths of the Eos Valley, and exchanged them for Fish.
The Ilf ordered their special kind of skins. They had their own particular style of flying that favoured the prone position, so they ordered the skins with modified flying controls, all telepathic of course.
Rion was always well received at the Sailsmith’s house where he often enjoyed his hosts’ hospitality for a number of days. He tended to fly to the Eos, because it was easier, but he always sailed to the Mystic because that way he could approach the Ilf from beneath. Ilf, like birds, were wary of anything approaching from above.
A visit with Saek was a complete immersion within the Ilf way of life. Rion found them to be particularly young at heart. He wore his skin the whole time he was there.
They flew from tree to tree and Saek showed him many sacred places. They swam in pools and sipped syrupy nectars from a variety of exotic flowers. They slept in his tree house at night, high in the canopy of the elder named Valder.
And in the candle light in the evenings, the Ilf played their musical instruments and sang, and their harmonies imbued the whole forest. The singing was interspersed with the smoking of sacred herbs and fungi.
The forest became a veritable wonderland, for Rion, under the influence of a sacred mushroom named Midnight Light.
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Noah originally met Rion at the Sailsmith’s house. He had never met anyone who knew as much about the Ilf as Rion. One time, during their many conversations, Rion told Noah about Mimo, the wise woman of the Ilf. ‘She is a revered healer,’ he said, ‘and a mystery within a mystery. I have never met her, but I know someone who knows someone who knows her.’
Noah’s friendship with Rion created a strong mind thread between them, strong enough for him to contact Rion from the Mojave Desert and plead for help with a young hero’s survival.
Rion got the message, about Griffin, out to Mimo, via Saek and another Ilf. A return message soon came. Mimo agreed to help and invited them to come as soon as possible.
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It was arranged that they would meet up at Rion’s house. Noah and Griffin glided the intergalactic cruiser only feet above the water as they approached. They came in for a hover landing over the beach right next to the house. They saw Rion and Sattva waving to them from the veranda.
‘It’s my first time in your house, Rion,’ said Noah, warmly shaking Rion’s hand.
‘Yes, we usually bump into each other at Max’s house.’ Rion turned toward Griffin and guessed, ‘Aha, this must be the patient.’
‘Griffin,’ replied Griffin offering a feeble handshake.
After all the introductions were over, the travellers from Earth settled into Rion’s house. The plan was to leave for Mystic River first thing in the morning.
After dinner, they discussed the journey ahead.
‘Two days sailing up the coast and three navigating the Mystic,’ explained Rion.
‘Five, maybe six days travel before we get there.’
Noah glanced at Griffin whose complexion was visibly fading. ‘That might be too long,’ he said. ‘I remember you telling me that no one flies into the Ilf world. No one approaches from above. You mentioned that the best approach is from below via the Mystic River. I am not certain that we have the luxury of five days, Rion. We ought to try to get there by tomorrow night.’
‘We could try it in the dinghy,’ said Rion enthusiastically. ‘It’d take longer than the ship, but it is small and discrete, and much faster than sailing. In it we can get to the Mystic River in about six hours. And you can double that for the up-river portion. We could fly a foot above the water all the way up the river. I don’t think that should fray too many Ilf feathers. We basically need to come in low and do it quietly.’
Noah declared, ‘That is it then, we go in Rion’s dinghy.’
The dinghy was parked in the garage. It floated about six inches off the floor.
‘It’s quite small and open,’ said Noah.
‘A negligible squeeze,’ Rion replied comically. He suggested, ‘Griffin can take the passenger seat and you, Noah, can hang on for dear life in the back.’
‘That is quite acceptable to me,’ said Noah. ‘How does it sit with you, Griffin?’
‘Er, no problemo, Noah,’ Griffin courageously replied.
‘It will be best, I think, Noah, if we wear our skins,’ suggested Rion.
‘Certainly. I have mine,’ Noah replied.
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They kicked back after dinner and swapped a few pipes of Mana.
The Mana continued to suppress the effects of radiation poisoning in Griffin.
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They decided to leave at midnight. They dispensed with sleep and instead made ready the dinghy for the trip. By Rion’s calculations, they figured that they should reach their destination by sunset the next day, although they didn’t know precisely where that destination was. Their initial plan was to visit Saek on the way.
They prepared themselves for 200mph flight in an open-topped dinghy.
Even though they left in the middle of the night, their flight was not too chilly. They departed from the southern part of the subtropical zone and flew north into the tropical zone.
There are no seasons on Rama, there are just five climatic zones. They are the tropical, the subtropical, the desert, the alpine and the polar. The tropical zone is vast because it straddles the equator. South and north of the two subtropical zones are two desert zones that ring the planet. North and south of the desert zones are the alpine zones, which are chiefly responsible for the deserts. North and south of the alpine zones are the polar zones. The reason that Rama has stable, clearly-differentiated, climatic zones, and lacks any seasons, is because the plane of Rama’s axis of spin matches the plane of its orbital axis. There is no tilt of the axis, as in Earth’s situation where there is a tilt of some 23 degrees, this tilt causing the seasons.
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They flew above the treetops as fast as they could. Noah hung on in the back. He used his levitation suit for assistance. There was only one moon visible that night. The other was on the opposite side of the planet. The solitary moon, named Maya, reflected enough light to lift the highlights out of the darkness. Their goggles did the rest.
Five hours after departing they came to the Mystic rivermouth. They flew most of the way following the coastline at about four hundred feet. Rion descended the dinghy to a few feet above the water and said,
‘This is the entrance to the Mystic, Noah. From here we stay low. Everyone OK?’
‘Yes, certainly.’ ‘Er, no problemo,’ came the replies.
‘It’s like a long snake, this river,’ Rion explained.
They took a moment to revel in the sunsrise.
‘Ohh, I love that early morning warmth after sunsrise,’ said Noah.
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‘Sometimes I long for it after a cold night,’ Rion added.
Griffin didn’t speak much because he had nothing much to say.
‘I’ll fly as fast as is comfortable, to start with,’ Rion went on, ‘however I’ll slow down when we begin to think it might be a good idea.’
The sleek dinghy silently skimmed up the centre of the river, barely a foot above the water. Rion banked the dinghy around the bends, like an aeroplane, keeping the occupants inside fairly neutral. They sped along at between forty and eighty miles per hour.
As they ventured west, deeper into the ancient Delphian Forest, everything became larger. Trees with one-hundred-foot diameter trunks grew in there. They were so tall that one couldn’t see their branches for other foliage. The trunks just disappeared into the green. These most ancient of all trees were called elders. Beneath them were strata of different, smaller trees and palms and every type of plant imaginable.
They snaked up the Mystic all morning until they arrived at Valder, the elder tree within whose branches Saek lived in his tree house.
They negotiated their way around and up the side of the enormous trunk. It was not until they rose above the forest canopy that they got a sight of Valder’s crown high above in the sky. The only other things at that altitude were other elder trees. They were liberally distributed throughout the forest for as far as the eye could see.
Saek greeted them warmly and offered food and drink during their brief stay.
They sat on a veranda perched amongst the high branches and admired the view.
Saek pointed out the neighbouring elders. ‘That be Vulk,’ he said, ‘and that one over there be Evert. We that live up here be called the high folk. We build treehouses for protection from the high winds that be often howlin up here.’
The high winds were not due to trade winds. They were due to the huge thunderstorms that rampaged around the tropical zone every afternoon.
‘The forest folk that be livin down there,’ Saek pointed down at the forest canopy,
‘they like livin in nests. Cosy, if thee be partial to that sort of thing.’
After a little bit of chitchat, Saek offered some final recommendations.
‘Just be followin the river upstream and be takin your time. It be not so far. Thee be there fore sunset. I been told of Mimo’s granddaughter, her name be Hether, and that she be lookin out for thee. She be findin thee for sure and be guidin thee to Mimo.’
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It was not long after midday when they said goodbye to Saek and descended through the maze of branches that was the forest canopy. They joined the river and silently continued on their journey upstream into the deepest and most mysterious part of the Delphian Forest.
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‘Er, please be excusin me,’ said the slender Ilf girl as she flew up to the dinghy, ‘I be Hether.’
Her skin-tight levitation suit fluoresced in a flowing pattern of red, green and yellow Lorikeet feathers. Her balaclava and goggles, which regrettably concealed her friendly smile, were beautifully, telepathically rendered in the head of what most closely resembled the Papuan Lorikeet, Charmosyna papou, on Earth. Her head was mostly varying shades of vivid reds with a band of black running around the back and a small white crown on top. Her appearance was positively stunning.
‘Be thee the three who wish guidance to Mimo?’ she asked in a voice that sounded like flowing honey.
‘We be they, m’lady,’ Rion replied speaking in the Ilf dialect. ‘I be Rion from the southern latitudes, in the back be Noah, from the Eos Valley, and the passenger here be Griffin, from the planet Earth, he bein the patient.’
‘Been thee journeyin well?’ she asked.
‘Briskly, m’lady, briskly.’
‘Aye, we must not be delayin then,’ she said getting ready to fly off. ‘If thee be likin to follow me, it be not far.’
They flew through the emerald forest. Everything radiated a subdued glow in the totally filtered light. As they ventured upstream, the terrain became steeper and the river narrower and swifter. Gradually they began to hear a roaring sound. The volume grew into sustained thunder as they got closer. They turned a bend and flew into a gargantuan, mist-saturated, cathedral-like space that was spectacularly pierced by sabres of light where the suns’ rays penetrated the broken canopy. At the far end of this voluminous void was a three-hundred-foot-high waterfall, which was surrounded by a profusion of every kind of incredibly lush tropical plant.
‘This be Mimo’s waterfall,’ said Hether glistening in the mist. ‘She be livin not far upriver from here.’
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They saw her levitating in one of the light beams. The drops that had collected all over her skin refracted an aura of thousands of rainbows. To them she looked like a glowing angel.
They were all getting drenched but no one minded because it was a very warm afternoon. Hether led them up the falls, through the mist and thunder, and over the top.
The river was quieter up there on the plateaux. They glided upstream, skimming just above the now-mirror surface.
As they rounded a bend they came into a cove. They spotted a jetty, up ahead, projecting out from a narrow beach.
‘That be Mimo’s place,’ said Hether pointing. ‘She be livin in the wood not far from there.’
Tied to the jetty was a low, round boat, of sorts, with a dome cover that appeared to be made of some sort of canvas. The colours and textures of the boat and jetty were that of their surroundings, completely blending into the forest.
Mimo lived in the deep woods where none but filtered light existed. The nearest direct sunslight was downriver at the falls. The falls area had always been one of Mimo’s favourite swimming places. The other was a small rockpool in a brook nearby. The Ilf loved to take swims, which, by the way, they always did naked.
Due to the lack of direct light, the forest floor was not so thickly vegetated that one could not easily get about. They came to a clearing at the base of a colossus of a tree. It was the elder of all elders, Arak. Arak was so old and tall that his trunk at its base divided into three parts for better support. Mimo lived in a stone cottage snuggled in the trifurcation of the huge roots. She had been living there for over a thousand years. The stones that made up the walls of the cottage were of varying sizes and fitted together with such precision that a razor blade wouldn’t have fitted between them. They were dry stacked with no mortar between them. Near the ground they were covered with fine green moss. There were also small spindly mushrooms growing from the joins. There were two main types. There were tiny yellow ones with fluorescent purple stripes. These grew in clumps. There were also shiny red ones with raised yellow spots. These grew alone. The windows of the cottage were rectangular and had no glass. Instead they had wooden shutters that opened outward. The roof of the cottage, what they could see of it, appeared to be made of what looked like pieces of turtle shell.
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They parked the dinghy out of the way in a nook. As they set foot to ground, they removed their balaclavas and goggles and let them hang behind their necks. There was a momentary, deeper-than-usual meeting of Hether and Noah’s eyes. She shyly broke the contact, looking away towards Mimo’s cottage, and smiled in Mimo’s mind as was the custom amongst telepaths.
They watched the ancient wooden door open with a long squeak.
Mimo stood inside, smiling. ‘It be doin that when it be curious,’ she quipped referring to the squeaking door.
‘Hello, nana, I be findin them.’
Mimo was known for her advanced age. She was 1377 years old, a rarity for a Rama, and she could remember every day of that long life down to the last detail. She looked a woman of about 60 Earth years. She was not too tall, about five-seven, had long white hair and pale, smooth skin, and her cerulean eyes burned fiercely with the light of a very advanced telepath. She wore a simple, knee-length dress made of finely-woven, linen-like material made from a plant not dissimilar to the flaxseed plant on Earth. She was barefoot.
‘Foreigners be rare in these parts,’ she said.
‘Thank you for receiving us, m’lady,’ said Rion respectfully, bowing his head.
‘The boy with you,’ she looked into Griffin’s eyes, ‘he be the qualmish one?’
‘Yes, thank you, m’lady. His name be Griffin, from the planet Earth, from our neighbouring galaxy, the Milky Way they be callin it.’
‘I be hearin little of it,’ said Mimo.
‘Griffin been found by Noah here, kind lady, in a desert on that planet.’
She looked at Noah, ‘Where be thee from then, Noah?’
‘My lady, mostly I dwell in the vicinity of the Eos Valley when I am not roaming about.’
‘And why be this young boy’s life so important that thee be bringin him all that way to me?’ asked Mimo.
‘He and his two younger friends are the last true survivors of their species of some eight billion people, my lady,’ Noah replied.
‘Hmm, I see,’ she said. ‘Thy cause then be indeed righteous and thy mission of noble mercy,’ she paused, then added, ‘and it be certainly worthy of my ministration.’ She
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looked Noah deeply in the eye and pronounced, ‘Know thee, Noah, without true virtue there can be no healin. Thee be already the beginnin of that process.’
‘Thank you, maam,’ said Noah.
‘Griffin be not havin the sight,’ she observed.
‘No, maam,’ said Noah.
‘The Fish be not easy for him.’
‘Aye, maam.’
‘Yet, he be as limpid as the sacred pool of the Mystic spring. This be in his favour,’
she added.
Griffin struggled to stand up straight. He was beginning to experience waves of abdominal cramps. His face grimaced with pain. Suddenly, to everyone’s surprise, he collapsed to the ground.
‘Oh my,’ said Mimo with concern in her voice.
Noah, who was as strong as an ox, bent down and effortlessly picked Griffin’s listless body up in his arms.
‘Please be bringin him inside, Noah,’ said Mimo, ‘I must be makin him a brew.’
Mimo’s brews were legendary. There was no knowing how many she had concocted through the centuries. They were all made from plants and roots and mushrooms of the forest, and each one had a special purpose. Although her brews were fabled, they were not as renowned as her personal variety of Fish.
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Noah laid Griffin on a bunk in a rear corner of the living room.
The interior of Mimo’s cottage was made up of only two rooms. There was a front room, which doubled as a guest room and incorporated a small kitchen. The other room was in the rear. It was her bedroom and it was always hidden behind a closed door. No one ever went in there. The floor was covered in soft, woven, river reed. The wooden window shutters remained open most of the time, allowing sufficient light inside. Mimo’s furniture was old and simple, made of intricately-carved wood. The interior was also decorated with many exotic potted plants. At night the plants fluoresced with an intensity as bright as moonlight.
Mimo, like all Ilf, spent much of her time flitting about the forest occupying herself with pleasant foods, friends and exotic entheogens. She spent most of the rest of her time in a trance, Buddha like, traversing the infinite verisimilitude of the mind plane. She also
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played an instrument, which could best be described as a seven-string balalaika, and she sang ancient songs in soft, sweet melodies. All Ilf that ever lived had a song written about them when they died. That way they were remembered for evermore through their being sung by their descendants. And so it was with Mimo who in the evenings sang her ancestral songs in a magical harmony with all the other Ilf in the forest.
‘I be needin him for three days,’ she said boiling some water on a plate made hot by friction of two flat ironstones counter-spun by tiny gravity sails.
Noah looked at Griffin, who lay there pale and semi-conscious, and expressed his concern.
‘What are his chances do you think, Mimo?’
‘How he be gettin this way then?’ she asked.
‘He swallowed some very radioactive salt.’
‘Been he vomitin?’
‘Vomiting till there was nothing left to vomit. He must be cleaned out by now,’ Noah assessed. ‘I’ve been pumping him with fluids, keeping him from drying out, and he’s been smoking Mana since I found him.’
‘So, it good chance be that all the damagin salt is out. I be able to see in the Fish. If it all out then it be not impossible to save him. If still some poison in him, then it be not lookin too good. Other-be-wise, the Fish be allowin the Motherflow to do the healin of what been damaged, if we be not too late.’
‘How long before we know?’
‘It be takin maybe three days, maybe more … or maybe it be too late.’
At that moment she solemnly closed her eyes and placed her hands over her heart and sang,
‘No one be knowin
Only the Mother flowin
When we be comin
When we be goin
When we be hidin
When we be showin
No one be knowin
Only the Mother flowin’
…….
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