The Chronicles of Han
Birth place of physical experiences.
Seeding Planet for Creation.
Seated in the Original Universe the Creator aptly named Euphranor, To Delight.
Some will say a work of fantasy. I beg to differ.
I am Han, and this is my life-memory . . .
*** One ***
There was nothing but incredible pain. Every breath I drew brought more pain to my body.
I moved my body to a more comfortable position. My left arm and leg were hanging free, a gentle breeze playing over them.
Come to think of it, the breeze was ruffling my hair.
Slowly rolling onto my side, I brought my limbs back towards my body.
Willing my eyes to open and see what was going on, I discovered that I was lying on a narrow ledge.
The movement brought new pains and my nose started to bleed.
Closing my eyes against the glare of sunlight, I managed to sit up, holding my ribs together with my left hand. My right hand did not want to respond.
My head felt as if it was split open to the bone. Releasing my painful ribs, I gently probed the gash in the back of my head.
The scalp was split open, but was no longer bleeding severely. There was a lot of swelling that could become a problem if left untreated.
Opening up to Source Energy, I allowed the energy to wash over my body, healing as it flowed through me. I kept this up until I thought the healing to be complete.
My body seemed extremely depleted and when I closed the connection it felt better, but not yet healed.
Realising that the wound should have healed, or at least closed partially, I probed the gash again. The swelling had subsided, but the wound was still gaping.
Why had it not healed?
I sat quietly for a while, allowing my body the necessary time to act on the healing energy that it had just received.
It did not respond as I knew it should have.
Sighing, feeling the stab of pain from my broken ribs, I opened my eyes again and looked out over the panorama that displayed itself at the bottom of the cliff I was sitting upon.
Lush mountains ran down into a valley that spread out before me. A broad river lazily snaked its way to the horizon and a memory told me that it ran all the way to the Sea.
The floor of the valley was carpeted with grasses of colours I had never seen before in any of my travels.
I should know this. I was a traveller that had been to many worlds.
Now, that was the first real thought I had had since waking up on this narrow ledge, halfway between somewhere up there and whaaaaaay down there!
A tentative peek over the edge made me back up as far as I could against the cliff face.
Fact number one. No matter how hard I thought, I could not remember who I was.
Fact number two. I somehow ended up in this spot, and something told me that it was not my doing.
Fact number three. I had no way of getting out of this predicament without help. The ledge was barely broad enough for me to lie stretched out on.
The breeze was turning into a cold wind and my hair blew across my face.
The long, golden hair irritated me. I should tie it back.
Hold on a minute!
I distinctly remember that my hair was black and short!
Grabbing a handful of hair, I held it in front of my eyes. It was indeed long and of a golden honey colour.
I looked at my left hand.
It was not my hand.
It was the hand of a child.
I brought the right hand forward. It was covered with blood and crushed.
This was not my body as I knew it should be.
I wished for the memory of my own body to surface.
Only dark, short hair came up.
My head was throbbing, either from trying to remember or from the clobbering I knew my injury suggested.
I was uncomfortable and thirsty.
Sitting with my back against the cliff, nursing my broken hand, I knew I had to realign the fingers, or I would never be able to string another bow.
String another bow?
I had never shot with a bow in my entire life!
Or did I? In this life I found myself in at the moment?
I pulled my legs towards me to rest my head on my knees.
Traveller of Worlds.
Dreamer of Dreams.
Seer of Visions.
Yes, maybe this was only a dream and I would wake up soon and be out of this agony.
The icy tentacles of the wind were taking a stronger grip on me.
I had no jacket to protect me.
My unbleached cotton shirt was in tatters. At least I had tanned leather pants on that protected somewhat from the cold. I noticed that my feet were bare, covered in blisters.
Obviously not accustomed to fleeing without boots.
Fleeing without boots.
No memory of what it was about either way.
Only the thought of fleeing without boots.
Extremely annoying and making the headache worse.
Placing my left hand over my right, I concentrated on healing. I was rewarded with a warm glow from my left hand and felt it entering the right. I knew this was not enough energy healing, but at least it would numb the pain before I reset the bones.
Stuffing a thick fold of my shirt into my mouth to stifle any noise, just in case whoever tried to kill me was still about, I applied pressure to my broken hand.
It took two sessions of intense pain before the bones were reset into their original positions. I continued the energy healing with tears streaming down my face.
Universe, it hurt!
At least I did not pass out.
The hand felt better, so I moved on to the broken ribs. There was not much I could do here, except channel some energy to the bones.
The throbbing pain settled as the sun dipped down to reach the furthermost point of the river. I made a note that that was West. Something told me that I should not go in that direction.
I looked at my feet. I should heal these too if I was to climb down the side of this cliff, or up, whichever way looked shorter.
I should not be spotted if I could make the climb in twilight when shadows protected me. I could not wait until after dark, for I would not be able to see where to climb.
Concentrating on healing my feet sufficiently for me to work with them, my right hand responded to my commands of opening and closing, and even helped with the energy healing, a powerful flow of energy facilitating the faster healing of my feet.
In a few minutes I was satisfied with the results. I left the influx of energy at the crown of my head open. I would need all the help I could get in this climb.
Carefully poking my head over the edge of the cliff, I looked up.
As I had suspected, it was the shorter route.
So up it was.
At least the rock this cliff was made from had lots of protrusions and I managed quite effectively to climb the wall like a fly.
I could not feel anyone watching me, but worked as slow as a chameleon as a precaution.
Sweat soon drenched my body, making my hands and feet slippery, stinging my open wounds.
I had to double check every hold before committing to it.
It was dark by the time I sensed that I was only a few paces from the top. I could not hear anything except the wind blowing from above and carefully peeked over the edge.
Trusting my senses to tell me if there was danger, I carefully lifted my body over. Slinking to some bushes, I hid under them, panting from the exertion of the climb.
When my breathing was under control, the need for water became overbearing. Logic told me that these mountains should have streams joining up with the river at the bottom. Did I not see some arteries reaching the main vein from my exquisite view?
- Stay off the main route! -
A familiar warning note.
No time to worry about where it came from.
Just do as it tells you.
I made my way parallel to the dirt track, careful to leave as little evidence of my passing as possible.
Concerned about leaving my scent behind, I quickly found a pungent tree where I stripped some of its branches. Tearing the bottom of my shirt into ribbons, I used one piece of my shirt to bind the wound in my head and two others to bind the branches to the soles of my feet.
Whatever might be tracking me would now have a more difficult time. I felt satisfied that my precautions were in place as best I could do at the moment.
It was extremely dark now, but my sense of direction proved to be uncanny. I knew I could find my way around in the darkest of places . . . at least the dark-haired version of myself could.
After careful negotiation, and moving totally away from the track, I could smell what I was looking for.
It was to be found in a narrow valley and I had to move almost halfway down the hillside before I found the little stream.
The stream was situated in an open area and as far as I could see, no brush or trees grew up close. It was still dark, the moons had not yet risen.
This place had more than one moon. My dark-haired memory spoke of one moon. The body I now had knew of two.
I had stepped on a branch.
Crouching down, I reprimanded myself for being so careless. The whole world had heard my stupidity.
Concentrate on staying alive.
It does not matter in what body.
Just stay alive!
I moved quietly up-hill for about an hour before attempting to reach the stream again. My whole being was screaming for satisfaction, yet my suspicions kept me from rushing out to it.
Once more I tried going down to the stream.
Once more something stopped me.
I backed away, turned and silently made my way back up the hillside.
Giving the valley a wide berth I walked with thirst foremost in my mind, constantly climbing higher, avoiding any form of track, steadily working my way South.
I did not know why I was going this way and did not want to break my concentration in trying to figure things out. It only landed me in trouble.
The moons peeked out over the mountains as I reached another small valley. This shallow valley was covered in woodland trees and carpeted with berry-bushes. Common sense told me that there might be wild animals lurking in the cover of the undergrowth.
At this moment, I considered myself a wild animal as well, in need of the cover of the bushes until the moons went to sleep again.
I must not be seen. That was my first priority.
I crept into the bushes as far as I could comfortably worm myself, before filling my empty stomach with sweet, red berries that helped to slack my thirst as well.
With the demand for nourishment out of the way, I required a safe place to rest. Daring to stand up and steal a quick look over the bushes, I saw a clump of old trees further along into the brushland. I made my way there, at times creeping around on all fours underneath the thickets.
This necessitated the discarding of my 'shoes'. Not wanting to let anything lie around for someone to be able to track me, I carefully wrapped the two pieces of material I had used to bind my feet around my wrists.
The clump of trees had large roots growing along the top of the ground, leaving comfortable spaces for creatures who sought their sanctuary.
Tonight I did not mind sleeping curled up between two roots on a bed of dried leaves.
The scream of a creature woke me instantly from a deep, healing sleep.
Staying perfectly still, I listened to the night, my eyes scanning for any sign of movement.
The fluttering of wings above me attracted my attention.
It was a night bird of prey, eating its meal. The scream was probably the meal.
The moons had slipped behind the mountains and the landscape was ink black again. I could probably travel another hour or two before I had to settle in somewhere for the day.
Without disturbing the night bird, I crept out of the thickets, making my entry as high up and to the other side of the valley as I could.
From here the woods started to thin out and after the third, or maybe the fourth valley I crossed, (I did not keep track), the vegetation became very sparse.
Dawn was greying the edges of the mountains.
I had to find a secure place for the day and decided to climb as high as I could.
Climbing one of the rocky slopes, I stepped on the bigger boulders only. I was extremely careful not to dislodge any stones that might give my position away.
Eventually, I found what I was looking for. A sheltered spot behind a huge boulder that was surrounded by other, smaller boulders. The small cave was hidden from all points of view, including from above.
The little cave was barely large enough for me to sit up in. It was going to be hot, uncomfortable waiting, but the safest I could manage for now.
Settling down, I treated all my injuries with more energy healing before curling up into a ball, waiting for the hot day to break over me.
Copyright © H Gibson Chronicles of Han Storm. All rights reserved. 2009-2016
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