Tomorrow Is Dead!

Tomorrow is dead! – cried the stranger, as the clamouring sky healed behind him – and black clouds boiled over the sea. Beneath the soaring cliffs of Utrecht, in the time of gods he fell. Drained by his journey from beyond oblivion, Traveller shook violently, scales of strange armour fell from his twisted limbs and became dust. He knelt before the cold waves witnessed by the pale-eyed boy Ion. When his faithful raven Corvak gathered herbs from meadows above the churning shore, Ion administered a poultice. And soon, amidst the stranger’s confused chatter, a wondrous tale emerged.

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I come to save your children! – spake the man; for my world is a mirror of yours; yet removed to a distant future, to your eyes still unmade.

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He groaned and babbled how humanity had made themselves unseemly with peculiar energies, until little more than a withered chimaera of organs and senses of ore-fused-bone; and of minerals which gave uncommon strength and long life, until they could no longer tell what part of them was artifice and had forgotten their natural beauty. The very world also was sore with corruption so that the sun hid her face and the sluggish oceans birthed life no more.

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He craved solace in the peace of his world’s past. And if fates willed it, his lifespan, like unto the gods themselves, would be pared down to that of a mortal. He would know a purity of life without mechanisms and mayhap, with luck, heal the future. The stranger’s beacon through the void was a column of granite, like they that populate the circles of power in our high places; and this very one persisted still in the dying future. Could he but find that stone’s reflection in our time, he might alter the direction of fate to unmake the harm and poisons mankind had wrought.

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He carried a short blade, wrought of sky-metal. Small in length it bore an edge too keen for any armour to turn and could cleave an axe of stone; and carried he also a reflective pendent which even in his fever he held to him as if its strange symbols described his very soul. And as this tale was unfolding in the mind of Ion, a wrathful shaking of earth set up and there appeared above the headland, two of the Fomorii; Sentinels of The Mist; and like hunting spiders they rushed down upon the shore, to do harm.

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It seemed to Ion their purpose was an end to Traveller; his presence an affront to the Lords of Time, perhaps, these their agents come to correct the abhorrence. Baneful intent was clear in their glimmering eyes and wrath discharged from their beaks like the arrows of Hercules. Bewildered, Traveller beset the Sentinels with small remains of his armour which did spit fire from his hands and confounded the creatures in upheavals of the cliff until the pair were buried beneath rock columns left by the ancient giants from their building. At ingenious words from Corvak, Ion lead the ailing traveller through tunnels within the cliffs until they emerged at the bay of Pyram; and traveller, being sorely injured, once more fell into fever.

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All peoples at this time were beset by plundering pirates. And thus Traveller woke to harsh misdeeds of a raiding party of the Scotti; they of the blue and hairless faces who take the skulls of their vanquished. Their leader was Rebnul, son of Drem, of a most powerful tribe. And even as his warriors made to slaughter the still ranting Traveller, Rebnul bade them cease, as his sharp wits apprehended a portentous quality to the stranger.

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In the midst of boastful warriors Traveller quickly showed his courage and stood, unsteady, betwixt them and the boy Ion. Even when the haughty Rebnul bade his magician, Merin, demonstrate strange fires from his hands to impress the stranger, Traveller mocked him with a show of taking the flames and without harm or cry bade them cease and Merin was aggrieved. Rebnul thought then to take the enigmatic stranger to show his father and gain some loft in his eyes. And Traveller agreed without struggle if Rebnul should agree the freedom of his boy companion. Seeing he was to be bound, Traveller slyly threw the strange blade among the shingle at Ion’s feet, in gratitude for his ministrations.

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When the longboat swung wide from the cove, Traveller looked back and thought he espied the same sentinels that had made to attack him earlier; and he was sore concerned for the child and his faithful bird;  but of a sudden the land disappeared and Ion was lost beyond the waves. Now it was, that a moon waxed and waned fully ere Rebnul’s party returned to their hillforts, hoping for good favour but finding sore news instead. Rebnul’s father lay in the mound of the dead his life having departed unannounced in the night; and by his side the fair countenance of Gwynfor, having marked her husband’s passing with a draught of Nightshade. As Chieftain it now fell to Rebnul to lead his people in all matters and he grew thoughtful.

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Attentive Traveller sought to make himself vaunted among his captors, and to this end, he won the blacksmith with exotic wisdom and bade him smelt a metal under guidance, which being darker and more resilient than bronze, made the tilling of earth and the beating of implements easier; Traveller thought to steer men’s brutality towards a peaceful craving, far removed from the same rivalries which so beset his own time. And Traveller named the metal after the boy who had saved him.

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But Rebnul espied how he could employ the blacksmith also to make long blades to incite violence and best his enemies. And such was the excitement among the hillfort that Traveller was oblivious to glances from Merin the magician and knew not his heart. So the tribe soon grew in stature and Traveller gained favour. Having trust of The Chieftain, he was given leave to move unhindered on the land but sworn to secrecy on matters of Ion and its manufacture; and not even Merin the magician had knowledge thereof.

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Traveller then began his search for the sacred monolith but found not the one he sought, for none of them possessed the symbols conveyed by his amulet. And yet still he had to be subtle in his ways that he would not arouse suspicion. Then Rebnul got news to prepare his people for war. For the Boreans of the continent made remonstrations against their brethren to the south and their great king Dorian called on warlords of the north to supply good ships and men. Villages busied in preparation and Traveller showed his tricky mind anew. He waited and counted six moons full-waxen before the longships of another chief Ullan entered the firth to ally with Rebnul. Being a silent presence in many councils, Traveller began to hear rumour of stone wonders on the vast lands of the continent and he beseeched Rebnul to grant him position in his army. But Rebnul was worried he would reveal their secret and refused him.

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And so, when Ullan challenged Rebnul to overlordship of their joined armies, and they agreed to pit Rebnul’s man against Ullan’s foul Moesian witch, it seemed provident to Traveller. For he knew Merin was no match for the harridan’s queer sorceries, and knowing him to be craven, thought to advise Merin to lie as if unwell so that Traveller was matched against the screeching woman. Indeed, Traveller beat the witch’s demons with sore cost to his strength that he made to keep hidden. Ullan clove to Rebnul’s leadership and Traveller was become magister preeminent in war. What befell of Merin is not hereafter recorded.

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Plans were set and the large-grown fleet of pirate-mercenaries would seek employ among the Achaeans in their rumoured raid on fabled Ilium. When the ships departed it seemed to Traveller there were strange faces among those on the quay and that troubled him. And searching his memories deeply he recalled the sentinels and knew their glimmering eyes had been on him and that they must possess the power of shapeshifting.

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After a dozen chests of Eastern gold was given in to him, Rebnul secured his army’s commitment and the fleet sailed north to the land of white nights and hired a full hundred of their mighty Jomsviken and thence south to the port of Tartessos. Beyond two winters more did the mercenaries plunder the coast even as far as mythic Khem and her emerald spires while preparation were made for war. And returning by that place where Atlas once ruled, the fleet heard news of imminent embarkation of King Agamemnon the great warlord who commanded armies beyond number. Into the Middle Sea went the northerners; and with others of their kind; and with ships from many places all come to the King in his grievous enmity against the Trojans.

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What insults led to this bitter situation none now recall. Whether lust, glory or fate, the Achaeans would war with the mighty empire of Troad to their dooms; and would see the crowning glory of Ilium inside her mighty walls made low like nameless desert sands. Vast beyond comprehension was the fleet that sailed against Troy; so that nations of the world forever knew them as The Sea Peoples. For the number of their ships and the ferocity of their warriors coveted all waters like naphtha and ignited a chaos in every nation save that of the mighty Ramses who did stem their tide in ruinous anger.

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Then did the armies of diverse people meet on the plains of Xanthus; mighty Cwmyri axes and powerful Azor bows; swift-footed Kentaurii came to aid Ephraiam, ruler of Troa; even the gods enjoined opposing forces and the Xanthus was damned at the will of Zaius. The ion-wielding Scotti did outpace even noble Axille and his myrmidons to the fore; across the vast plain before blood-moated Ilium. And after hard years of beleaguered conflict, Strife herself came to the doomed city and seeing the frenzied slaughter and how man’s mind had become mad with blood, fled the fray. Then came that day when Axille and Hekta fought alone among a sea of silent warriors. On this day Traveller spied two fighters, Pictish in mien and yet in their aura he knew them to be the same Sentinels come upon him once again. Through rank and file and pressing legions the resolute pursuants sought to dole their violence on the strange traveller; and he knew then they were drawn by his future magics and would dog his shadow forever and Traveller felt a heavy weight burden his spirit.

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In this instant did ten thousand souls rejoice as Axille, Warlord of the Myrmidons, held the field in victory, the triumphal Achaeans swept forwards to the city walls and battle was re-joined. Knowing his might was no longer enough to contend the Sentinels, Traveller fled. And the wrathful eyes of Rebnul followed him from the field. As the Sentinels fell from sight, a long Azor arrow struck the traveller and he was sore hurt and was carried to the ships by his closest companions. Leaving smoke and stench and red ruin of Troa, Traveller and his crew pushed off into the wine-dark sea where befell many adventures. And for ten years they knew strange and fabulous travels, so that their journey was known forever more as The Odyssey. And all the while, Traveller looked to the back horizon for Sentinels and to his own force of will passing from him.

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And as all tides must ebb and flow so Traveller once more found himself on the shores of a pleasant land. Robbed and abandoned by his fellow Reavers, plump fields invited the man’s weary spirit to rest without fear. He walked for days aimless, until his path rose onto a remote moor whereon was a monolith, upright and looming darkly. And barely could he lift his eyes to countenance the craggy surface for those runes which now seemed like distant shapes in the gloom of his memory. But he saw nothing and believed this Earth, whether his own or not, was doomed to the privations of man the murderer and he wept.

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Alas fates decreed he should bear to an old path and he espied a tribe of swarthy folk who viewed him in suspicion; and made him their slave and Traveller did not resist. They put him to tilling of land and felling of trees. He soon guessed they were of his land of first arrival as they bore the same measured cadence of Ion – he of the faithful raven Corvak. And so the traveller’s body began to age and his mind had begun to set firm against his quest; for here was simple drudge with fresh air, food that satisfied; and he became pleasured and found the affections of a woman, and in their way together made a home beneath peaceful stars, so perplexing similar to those above his own distant world.

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Slowly he became of trusted place in the village and his shackles were broken. Villagers saw Traveller was of good humour and treated his new wife Scarsdorter with dignity and that they spoke together of a child. But no child came to them and this was source of shame to the wife fearing of barren womb. Thus did Traveller fill deeply with remorse, as more of his knowledge seemed distant to him. And his powers were like embers in a cooling hearth. And yet he knew also that his years were still beyond measure, while Scarsdorter might quickly wither.

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One day, the boy Ion and Faithful Corvak and yet others, ventured to the village carrying belongings and rumour of war in Middle Sea; of how great armies with weapons of a strange new metal now turned their eyes west. Accounts returned from Tartessos and the Cassiterides; their scouts sail through the island straits. And so joy of reunion was brief and when Traveller heard the name Rebnul he started and grew melancholy, for he knew well the disposition of that army. For a time, his mind was undone. He knew not whether this was the Earth he had fled from, yet it was truly his home. And so, when villagers spoke of fleeing, Traveller feared this was the destruction of all he now held dear. Even when his beloved took his hand upon her living belly and smiled with a mother’s beauty, Traveller’s tears of joy hid a fear which grew rapid until sleep eluded him utterly.

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On a grey day, shortly after, the long-forgotten quest for the monolith came up between Ion and Traveller. And Ion cursed himself for a fool for not recalling Traveller’s quest sooner and that he had come upon such a stone and it had struck his mind that he recalled the symbols and Traveller showed him the amulet and the man agreed they were of a similar nature. In an instant of rising hope, it came to Traveller that he might try one last time to discover the power of the monolith and employ his waning strength to bring about a peace in the hearts of mankind, ere war reached the dale. And after much deliberation and quandary they set to journey without delay and left the fretting villagers behind them.

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The days were few but to Traveller stretched beyond measure before they arrived in the deep and mist-shrouded valley; Ion walked at their head. Traveller’s thoughts had oft run to the learning amassed over his immense life and how it seemed to elude him and demons of fear came to the fore instead. Until a cold dawn when Faithful Corvak called from out of the impenetrable miasma and through it guided them down until at last a great shadow loomed up in front of the companions. With heart pounding, Traveller scoured the monolith. He found marks there, akin to those on his amulet and yet not their twins, and he grew of a sudden afraid – was this not the stone from his own time? Had he altered events on this stage of Earth’s life journey so that it no longer travelled the same path? Had his memory and power now abandoned him completely?

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Traveller cried out and bade Ion to retire back; he was in fear of great release of ill power that might harm the man he had first met as a boy. As if in preparation for the mighty spell, the mist made to part, light grew to envelop them and Traveller began incantations Ion could scarce determine. Traveller tried to clear his mind of the dreaded appearance of the Sentinels at his meddling and his voice rose and the mist cleared further and the sun shone brighter and the land seemed to awaken as if the magician from a future world had begun to grow something between himself and a peace long dormant within the land – but alas – it was not so.

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For when his hands grew still and there was silence and little else, he knew he had failed. His power from that future felt distant and with it his understanding of purpose. Once more Traveller made to will a change but could no longer see and found nought but growing desperation; and he called out names Ion knew not and threw himself at the stone until his fists were beat bloody and turned his face scarlet when he wept into his hands. In rage, Traveller tore the amulet from his neck and hurled it from him and cursed the voiceless monolith; and ignoring the gentle inquisitions of Ion, he wandered as if under a spell until the mist devoured him.

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Seeing his friend in anguish and wondering what he might do, Ion knelt and retrieved the shiny stone that had traversed aeons at the neck of that strange fellow. And faithful Corvak blinked and put ideas into the man’s mind so that one day – should fates allow, should war leave them whole and Traveller be truly resolved to his new life – he might see this simple deed and understand it as a gesture of friendship and love. 

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And Ion drew forth the curious weapon given to him years before, the one blade capable of marking this impenetrable stone – and he copied the marks from the amulet to the monolith so that Traveller would not know the difference between those two sets, even were he to read them ten thousand years hence.

 

/End