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Karen Jean Baker / Text 6 of 7 / Unplanned Trip (updated: 02/21/02)
"Unplanned Trip (updated: 02/21/02)" by Karen Jean Baker
SciFi/Fantasy text 6 out of 7 by Karen Jean Baker. ←Previous - Next→
| I wrote this story long, long ago while still in grade school. I chanced upon it, liked the basic framework, and rewrote it [it was seriously screwed *chuckle*]. Anyhow, this is a younger sort of story--so go easy on it! However, please feel free to correct any mistakes--it was late at night when i rewrote the majority of it. (tweaked a bit) |
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Unplanned Trip
Waking abruptly, I opened my eyes and instead of finding myself in my warm bedroom, I was in the middle of some kind o woodland, curled in a ball against the chill--that must have been what woke me so readily...right? I took a cautious look around. It was a very different sort of woodland—no doubt about that. It looked like it couldn’t decide whether to be a pine forest, broadleaf forest, or a rainforest. Things were relatively quiet until about the time I completed my quick survey. Then it sounded like all the other living things—the creatures and plants—decided to rouse from their slumber as well. They all greeted the day—or perhaps me?—with clamorous noise. I leapt a foot into the air in surprise and was about to clap my hands over my ears in reaction, when I began to notice that I could hear every individual voice and understand each specific voice’s unique, distinctive message. While I was still in a state of semi-shock and awe at this new discovery, I began to wander aimlessly around the area. Exploring and listening to each beautiful, peerless voice while trying to get used to this sudden new ability.
All of a sudden the clamor ceased. It didn't die down naturally, but just stopped all at once. It took a few seconds for this strange stillness to sink into my awareness. I continued wandering on my aimless way, when it hit me that nothing was moving--even the breeeze that had been tugging at me playfully before, was absent. I stopped in my tracks and waited to see what would happen next. Before more than two heartbeats had sounded everything—flora, fauna, even the earth itself--seemed to gather and move out of the way to clear a path. Now there was a large clearing where only moments before had stood a dense forest.
A violently colored, red bird soon winged into view. Upon looking closely at the interesting bird, I saw that the wings appeared to be on fire. My eyes widened and I kept an eye on him as he landed carefully--perhaps so as not to start a fire--on a patch of bare earth.
He looked at me for a moment and then trilled into the silence, All is well! All is well! This creature could never harm Thee! Come forth, Great One!
Very curious now, I stood silently, awaiting this "Great One."
At the call of the firebird, it felt as though the entire forest held its collective breath. Into this silence glided a magnificently huge, dark, winged lion with Its tremendous wings spread wide. Its mane was long, free flowing, and a tawny amber in color; Its coat was a smooth and unruffled dark brown/black. It came to a stop in the center of the clearing, positioned Itself regally, and folded Its wings at Its side. The air was thick with an attitude of submission and reverence; indeed, all mobile life seemed to be bowing to the great creature. The silence seemed to stretch on for hours as I waited silently, trying not to gape in awe and surprise.
Finally, the firebird made bold to waddle a little toward this Personage. He humbly trilled, Great One, this in the interloper that was sensed. He paused and looked toward me. I blandly returned the stare with one of my own. He turned his back on me to face the Personage. It is an Outlander; its kind has not been here for many reigns. Since Thy Great-Great-Great-Grandmother’s reign, I believe. If you, here he paused with an audible sniff, wish to speak with it, use the Outland tongue.
The creature turned and looked upon with Its deep, great, majestic eyes. Then It let out a roar, which seemed to shake the very earth itself. Afterwards It opened Its great maw and growled something to me in English. I was taken aback; not only did the words sound odd coming from the terrible yet graceful mouth of the Lion, but I found I could not understand the words, as though I had traded the use of this language for the speech of the plants and animals.
I opened my mouth and spoke in the animals’ tongue, There is no need for that. The awesome and devastatingly beautiful creature gaped Its jaws and grinned—yes, grinned!—at me. At this gesture I suddenly recognized that this grand Personage was female. Then She turned and sent an inquiring look carrying just a hint of reproach at the firebird. He turned an even redder shade with shame. He stammered an unintelligible disclaimer, sent an angry glance my way, and faded into the flora.
Out of the greenery stepped a large creature; he looked wolf-like and his head reached past my chest. His bright eyes burned with an intelligence not seen in many humans. I had not laid eyes on anything like him before. He sat on his haunches and regarded me for quite a time; I simply stood and stared back at him, fidning this the best thing to do when standing between two creatures that appeared to be able to take my arm off at the shoulder without even breaking a sweat.
He then turned to the Lion and growled, An Outlander knowing the Tongue is very rare indeed… in very deed. The only other incident on record of such a happening occurred fifty reigns ago… He trailed off.
The Lion raised a furry eyebrow. And what were the circumstances? She asked mildly, in a deep, rich, buttery voice that sent shivers up my spine.
The creature continued smoothly, That incident is generally known of as the Great Treachery, but, Highness, I doubt that this will be a repeat of that affair.
The Lion answered nonchalantly, Good; it would be a pity to have to destroy this one also.
The offhand manner in which She spoke of my destruction had me quite disconcerted. I spoke up, With all due respect, Lady Lion, I am not quite sold on the idea myself.
The Lion chuckled and looked upon me anew. I find you refreshing, little one. I shall allow you to remain here a while. At this proclamation all the flora and fauna began to protest. The Lion’s voice became quieter, yet also more dangerous, Have I not spoken? Silence returned anew. The Lion glared about. Very well. She turned and departed.
The firebird reappeared, chittered at me angrily and unhappily, and then flew back into the--once again--dense forest. He had decided to resent me for some reason. Many of the animals and plants went back to their daily business, though a few stayed and stared uneasily at me.
A small-boned stag with mottled coloring trotted up to me. :Not much, but you will suffice,: I heard ringing in my head, a sensation I don't recommend experiencing for the first time before breakfast. I blinked in surprise and no little shock, looked around, and ended up staring into the stag’s incredibly black eyes. :Come, youngling. Since you are at odds with what to do, you can help the border scouts.:
I numbly followed him as he turned and made his way into the deep forest. When questioned about the speaking into my head, he winked at me. :It is called Mindspeech, youngling. You can do it as well. In fact, you’ll need to use it, while we scout and guard the border. All you do is think a message to me. Go ahead. Try it.:
I closed my eyes and concentrated on sending the word "Hello" to the tall stag. He chuckled and instructed me in the use of Mindspeech for a few minutes. Afterwards, we continued onward and he filled me in on the purpose of scouting the border and what I was expected to do. After he was sure I understood enough to perform adequately, he led me to the strip of land we were to guard.
Though some of my experiences in this land are as fresh as though they had taken place only the day before, the period of time that followed is as foggy as though the memories are from a million years ago and belonged to another person.
After a long day on patrol, I again found myself in the presence of the Lion. We did not speak. We walked Her realm in silence. Mind you, it was not a strained, uncomfortable silence. It was as rich as a nightlong heart to heart talk.
Then, we stepped into a courtyard that contained only one tree. There was something very odd about that tree; your eyes hurt to look at it. If you didn't focus directly at it, your eyes would slip right past it, and you would forget its very existence. The Lion led me up to it. Every step toward it was agony, but I dutifully followed her--I believe I would have followed Her into the maw of a very messy death. In the center of this old, giant tree was a window. As odd as it sounds now, it didn't seem out of place. Actually, at the time it felt as though we were out of place there. I had my back to the Lion and was facing the window when I heard Her say, Farewell, little Outlander.
From anyone else I might have taken offense, but from Her it was though the phrase was just an affectionate nickname. I half turned to face her. As though in a trance, I set my right hand on Her shoulder. To the touch She was as soft as lambskin, as cool and smooth as milk, as rich as gold and amber, as fragile as bone china, and as strong as thrice-forged steel; She was all this and much more. I don't know how long we stood there, She and I. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the firebird swooped down and purposefully burned my left hand. I bit off a curse and allowed myself to be herded by him through the window, which now was open.
The memories from that time until I found myself waking on the floor of my room—in the middle of my bedroom with all the furniture swept to the perimeters of the room--are quite thoroughly blurred; I remember nothing.
I was about to call it all a dream, a fancy, and the fault of a bit of undigested pork, when I came to enough to realize that my left hand was singed, and my right hand remembered and longed for the feel of the Lion. I then knew, with a certainty, that I would love and follow the Lion, though I would never see Her again, all of my days.
Waking abruptly, I opened my eyes and instead of finding myself in my warm bedroom, I was in the middle of some kind o woodland, curled in a ball against the chill--that must have been what woke me so readily...right? I took a cautious look around. It was a very different sort of woodland—no doubt about that. It looked like it couldn’t decide whether to be a pine forest, broadleaf forest, or a rainforest. Things were relatively quiet until about the time I completed my quick survey. Then it sounded like all the other living things—the creatures and plants—decided to rouse from their slumber as well. They all greeted the day—or perhaps me?—with clamorous noise. I leapt a foot into the air in surprise and was about to clap my hands over my ears in reaction, when I began to notice that I could hear every individual voice and understand each specific voice’s unique, distinctive message. While I was still in a state of semi-shock and awe at this new discovery, I began to wander aimlessly around the area. Exploring and listening to each beautiful, peerless voice while trying to get used to this sudden new ability.
All of a sudden the clamor ceased. It didn't die down naturally, but just stopped all at once. It took a few seconds for this strange stillness to sink into my awareness. I continued wandering on my aimless way, when it hit me that nothing was moving--even the breeeze that had been tugging at me playfully before, was absent. I stopped in my tracks and waited to see what would happen next. Before more than two heartbeats had sounded everything—flora, fauna, even the earth itself--seemed to gather and move out of the way to clear a path. Now there was a large clearing where only moments before had stood a dense forest.
A violently colored, red bird soon winged into view. Upon looking closely at the interesting bird, I saw that the wings appeared to be on fire. My eyes widened and I kept an eye on him as he landed carefully--perhaps so as not to start a fire--on a patch of bare earth.
He looked at me for a moment and then trilled into the silence, All is well! All is well! This creature could never harm Thee! Come forth, Great One!
Very curious now, I stood silently, awaiting this "Great One."
At the call of the firebird, it felt as though the entire forest held its collective breath. Into this silence glided a magnificently huge, dark, winged lion with Its tremendous wings spread wide. Its mane was long, free flowing, and a tawny amber in color; Its coat was a smooth and unruffled dark brown/black. It came to a stop in the center of the clearing, positioned Itself regally, and folded Its wings at Its side. The air was thick with an attitude of submission and reverence; indeed, all mobile life seemed to be bowing to the great creature. The silence seemed to stretch on for hours as I waited silently, trying not to gape in awe and surprise.
Finally, the firebird made bold to waddle a little toward this Personage. He humbly trilled, Great One, this in the interloper that was sensed. He paused and looked toward me. I blandly returned the stare with one of my own. He turned his back on me to face the Personage. It is an Outlander; its kind has not been here for many reigns. Since Thy Great-Great-Great-Grandmother’s reign, I believe. If you, here he paused with an audible sniff, wish to speak with it, use the Outland tongue.
The creature turned and looked upon with Its deep, great, majestic eyes. Then It let out a roar, which seemed to shake the very earth itself. Afterwards It opened Its great maw and growled something to me in English. I was taken aback; not only did the words sound odd coming from the terrible yet graceful mouth of the Lion, but I found I could not understand the words, as though I had traded the use of this language for the speech of the plants and animals.
I opened my mouth and spoke in the animals’ tongue, There is no need for that. The awesome and devastatingly beautiful creature gaped Its jaws and grinned—yes, grinned!—at me. At this gesture I suddenly recognized that this grand Personage was female. Then She turned and sent an inquiring look carrying just a hint of reproach at the firebird. He turned an even redder shade with shame. He stammered an unintelligible disclaimer, sent an angry glance my way, and faded into the flora.
Out of the greenery stepped a large creature; he looked wolf-like and his head reached past my chest. His bright eyes burned with an intelligence not seen in many humans. I had not laid eyes on anything like him before. He sat on his haunches and regarded me for quite a time; I simply stood and stared back at him, fidning this the best thing to do when standing between two creatures that appeared to be able to take my arm off at the shoulder without even breaking a sweat.
He then turned to the Lion and growled, An Outlander knowing the Tongue is very rare indeed… in very deed. The only other incident on record of such a happening occurred fifty reigns ago… He trailed off.
The Lion raised a furry eyebrow. And what were the circumstances? She asked mildly, in a deep, rich, buttery voice that sent shivers up my spine.
The creature continued smoothly, That incident is generally known of as the Great Treachery, but, Highness, I doubt that this will be a repeat of that affair.
The Lion answered nonchalantly, Good; it would be a pity to have to destroy this one also.
The offhand manner in which She spoke of my destruction had me quite disconcerted. I spoke up, With all due respect, Lady Lion, I am not quite sold on the idea myself.
The Lion chuckled and looked upon me anew. I find you refreshing, little one. I shall allow you to remain here a while. At this proclamation all the flora and fauna began to protest. The Lion’s voice became quieter, yet also more dangerous, Have I not spoken? Silence returned anew. The Lion glared about. Very well. She turned and departed.
The firebird reappeared, chittered at me angrily and unhappily, and then flew back into the--once again--dense forest. He had decided to resent me for some reason. Many of the animals and plants went back to their daily business, though a few stayed and stared uneasily at me.
A small-boned stag with mottled coloring trotted up to me. :Not much, but you will suffice,: I heard ringing in my head, a sensation I don't recommend experiencing for the first time before breakfast. I blinked in surprise and no little shock, looked around, and ended up staring into the stag’s incredibly black eyes. :Come, youngling. Since you are at odds with what to do, you can help the border scouts.:
I numbly followed him as he turned and made his way into the deep forest. When questioned about the speaking into my head, he winked at me. :It is called Mindspeech, youngling. You can do it as well. In fact, you’ll need to use it, while we scout and guard the border. All you do is think a message to me. Go ahead. Try it.:
I closed my eyes and concentrated on sending the word "Hello" to the tall stag. He chuckled and instructed me in the use of Mindspeech for a few minutes. Afterwards, we continued onward and he filled me in on the purpose of scouting the border and what I was expected to do. After he was sure I understood enough to perform adequately, he led me to the strip of land we were to guard.
Though some of my experiences in this land are as fresh as though they had taken place only the day before, the period of time that followed is as foggy as though the memories are from a million years ago and belonged to another person.
After a long day on patrol, I again found myself in the presence of the Lion. We did not speak. We walked Her realm in silence. Mind you, it was not a strained, uncomfortable silence. It was as rich as a nightlong heart to heart talk.
Then, we stepped into a courtyard that contained only one tree. There was something very odd about that tree; your eyes hurt to look at it. If you didn't focus directly at it, your eyes would slip right past it, and you would forget its very existence. The Lion led me up to it. Every step toward it was agony, but I dutifully followed her--I believe I would have followed Her into the maw of a very messy death. In the center of this old, giant tree was a window. As odd as it sounds now, it didn't seem out of place. Actually, at the time it felt as though we were out of place there. I had my back to the Lion and was facing the window when I heard Her say, Farewell, little Outlander.
From anyone else I might have taken offense, but from Her it was though the phrase was just an affectionate nickname. I half turned to face her. As though in a trance, I set my right hand on Her shoulder. To the touch She was as soft as lambskin, as cool and smooth as milk, as rich as gold and amber, as fragile as bone china, and as strong as thrice-forged steel; She was all this and much more. I don't know how long we stood there, She and I. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the firebird swooped down and purposefully burned my left hand. I bit off a curse and allowed myself to be herded by him through the window, which now was open.
The memories from that time until I found myself waking on the floor of my room—in the middle of my bedroom with all the furniture swept to the perimeters of the room--are quite thoroughly blurred; I remember nothing.
I was about to call it all a dream, a fancy, and the fault of a bit of undigested pork, when I came to enough to realize that my left hand was singed, and my right hand remembered and longed for the feel of the Lion. I then knew, with a certainty, that I would love and follow the Lion, though I would never see Her again, all of my days.
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Olivia
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'Unplanned Trip (updated: 02/21/02)':
• Created by:
Karen Jean Baker• Copyright: ©Karen Jean Baker. All rights reserved!
• Keywords: Firebird, Forest, Lion, Magic, Surrealism, Travel
• Categories: Magic and Sorcery, Spells, etc., Mythical Creatures & Assorted Monsters, Urban Fantasy and/or Cyberpunk
• Views: 214
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