Tales of Reginnis
The Discovery of the Oracle
Scene 1: The Forests of Monsuret
The sun rose in the sky, above a young man sitting on the outgrowth of a massive rock formation high above the pristine, quiet land and lake below him. He enjoyed rising before the sun. He would crawl out from his makeshift bed of grasses and leavers to sit calmly and think as the sun rose to warm him. He never recalled what he thought about, preferring to let his mind free itself. His thoughts at times were an endless stream of images, apparently not linked to one another and making little sense to him. On a few occasions, not comprehending their meaning bothered him but on the whole, he never felt threatened by them.
He only knew that this contemplation brought him peace. The calmness washed over him as the wind washed away the yearnings. He breathed in the air, fresh, pure and untouched. The uneasiness seemed to settle when he was here, on this rock formation staring into the large yellow orb till his eyes burned. He closed his eyes to ease the burning and felt the sun rejuvenate his energy. The only sound was the wind embracing him. He settled himself, feeling as though he was flying on the wind. He knew the visions would start soon.
“Artan!” yelled another young man, a native of the land. His skin was bronze, and his dark, long hair was pulled back from his face exposing his pointed, elf-like ears. His yell startled his friend out of his peaceful gaze. Artan’s body jumped, and his hand reached for his weapon, which was no longer at his fingertips. Now that he had his friends attention, Ohn-son decided it was time to give a lesson. “How many times must I tell you, just because you are meditating you cannot let your guard down?”
Artan, a human who was born to the world of Reginnis and yet still considered an outsider by some who live there, was a strikingly handsome youth. His piercing blue eyes, sandy brown hair and strong shoulders a contrast to his loyal and faithful aboriginal friend. He calmly looked up at his friend and in an even tone responded, “I knew no enemy was around me, so I did not grab my weapon.”
Ohn-son laughed. “You had no idea that I slowly moved it away from you and you certainly didn’t know I was here.” He sat down next to his friend as he handed Artan’s sword back to him. “I must teach you how to meditate.”
“Meditate?” Artan questioned, a skeptical look on his face.
“Yes, that’s what you were doing, except you aren’t doing it right.” Artan shrugged, all he knew was that it made him feel good and restored his energy. “You need to use this to see the future, to tune into the world around you, to find the answers you seek.”
“Now, that’s your take on this. I want to find peace. Nothing else—just a few peaceful minutes all to myself,” Artan countered.
“Only when you find your destiny will you find peace,” Ohn-son replied, realizing how much he sounded like his father.
Artan looked at him, also recognizing the voice of his friend’s father in him. They looked each other in the eye, understood they had the same thought and they laughed heartily. Artan scratched the ground before him. It was an awkward moment.
“There is trouble brewing,” Ohn-son said. “The warriors are preparing for a fight. My mother and father, they told me last night I must choose.”
“Why? Aren’t you too young to decide? I thought it was a few jahrens before that time was to occur.” Artan didn’t like the idea of losing the one person who befriended him and understood him.
“It is a different time. My father has seen that if we do not act now, we may not be here to make that choice. So, my day is to come sooner. The council and my family agree I have shown I can handle life the way one should. I think they think I am wise for my age.”
Artan noticed a change in his friend. A seriousness he had not seen before. “Is it that bad?”
“It will be. My father has foreseen it.” Ohn-son looked out over the land. “What will you do?”
“I don’t know,” Artan responded. “I haven’t given it much thought.”
Ohn-son laughed. “What do you think about when you stare at the sun?”
“Nothing. Everything. Nothing.”
“Which is it?”
“Nothing I guess. Everything leaves me.”
“You don’t see anything?” Ohn-son asked in disbelief.
“Why is that so hard for you to understand?” Artan asked. He never shared that he saw visions or images. It wasn’t out of spite. He assumed everyone experienced the same feelings and visions of their own. “I just like being quiet and still.”
“No visions? You see no one?”
“No,” Artan snapped back quickly. He could not look Ohn-son in the eye.
“Then I gave you too much credit,” Ohn-son stated sharply. He eyed Artan, knowing his friend’s response was not truthful. “I should re-examine my trust in you.”
“You’re the one who said I was meditating—whatever that is. You’re the one who hears voices on the wind and sees visions in the night,” Artan shot back, offended by Ohn-son comment about trusting him.
“Not just in the night, Artan. And don’t poke fun at me. It is a gift. One I think you possess, but for some reason you deny it.”
“Oh! Will you stop?” Artan stood, his irritation getting the better of him. This conversation between them came to often for Artan’s liking. “Can’t you people ever see good when you look into the future? Everything has to be evil.”
“We don’t just see evil,” Ohn-son interjected. “We see what the Majestic One gives to us. If granted the gift of seeing what evil is to come, it doesn’t mean we can’t change it or affect it. We have time to prepare. What are you afraid of?” Ohn-son asked, looking up at his tall friend. “I didn’t say you were going to die.”
“You didn’t say I wasn’t or that you weren’t for that matter.”
“I have not seen what is to become of us. So again, what are you afraid of?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers.”
“If you are afraid of not knowing what will happen, then let me help you learn what will give you the answers.”
“Here we go again. How many times do I have to tell you I don’t believe in all the hocus-pocus and magic.”
Ohn-son shook his head and stood up. “The decision is yours. Even if I do not agree with it, I must respect it. I have work to do. You should warn your people the Oghans are preparing for war. My father is going to see your people’s leader. He wants to ask for their assistance in resisting Solrach and the Oghans.”
“That will be the day. Revar doesn’t want to help anyone but himself, and if it doesn’t benefit him, he isn’t going to help the Anarym.” The Anarym were elves, and the humans, the race that Artan belonged to, invaded a portion of the Anarym lands when they fled their homes and crossed the Sea of Desperation many jahrens ago. Artan was orphaned, losing his father during the crossing and his mother shortly after that.
“I must ride to the north. I must find the leader of the Dorfats and seek their assistance. The Oghans have grown in number and will quickly overpower us if we don’t band together.” Ohn-son started to leave, a bit disappointed in his friend. “Artan, I ask you once again. Please inform your people and ask them to join us.”
Artan saw the desperation in his friend’s eyes. “I’ll try, Ohn-son, but you know ever since that night the Reginnians don’t listen to me. I’ll try to prepare those on the council to hear your father’s words.”
Ohn-son smiled at his friend. “I must leave.”
“Wait, up North? The Dorfats? They aren’t very friendly. Don’t you think I better go with you?”
Ohn-son laughed. “I’m not going alone.” With that, a cross between what we would describe as a fox and lynx-like creature appeared at Ohn-son side. For the first time, Artan saw this creature. It’s appearance frightened him, and he quickly rose his sword. “NO!” shouted Ohn-son. “He will not harm you.” Artan looked at Ohn-son. “This is my guide, my protector. Foxitt met Artan.” The animal guide did a somewhat awkward bow. Artan just looked at the creature with confusion.
“Greet him, you idiot,” Ohn-son demanded.
“Hello,” Artan replied feebly and then leaned over to Ohn-son. “Where did he come from?”
Ohn-son just laughed. “He is always with me. Just as your guide is always with you.” Artan began to look around to see if anyone suddenly appeared behind him. “She will show herself when she thinks you are ready.”
“She?” Artan seemed insulted. “Oh, that’s just perfect.” Artan’s trusted very few people, but his experiences with women made him trust them even less. Women in the Reginnian race were seen and not heard—a second-class person in that race. For Artan, to have a woman as his spirit guide was a curse he didn’t want to bear.
“What do you expect for someone who doesn’t believe in magic?” Ohn-son said with a sly grin. “And quit insulting those who are sworn to protect you. Now go and do what I have asked you to do. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Safe travels, Ohn-son and Foxitt.” Artan looked around for Foxitt and could not see him. His friend turned and with his stealthy, graceful stride disappeared into the forest below Artan’s perch. “Wait, Ohn-son—what am I suppose to tell my people? I mean, when’s the attack? Ohn-son?”
A woman’s voice came upon him gently as the wind kicked up embracing him. “Trust what you know and listen to your heart.” Artan’s wasn’t sure he heard the voice. His eyes darted around looking to see if he could see anyone. “Now go,” came a stern command.
Artan decided that it was not the time to argue, even if he could not see the woman whose voice he heard. Was it all in his head? He left his perch, starting on a path to the village where he was born but had not lived in a long time. As he walked, his mind was traveling back to the conversation he had with his friend. Not paying much attention, he tripped over a rock and fell to the ground. He laid on the ground, looking at the sky the was peeking through the branches of the trees in the dense forest. Not feeling the urgency that Ohn-son felt, Artan closed his eyes and was soon asleep.
Linda Riesenberg Fisler 