Chapter 6 – Meeting

Etienne lay for a long time on the forest floor, praying and thinking about the past two years. Darkness and loneliness had threatened to break his spirit. Why had he given up his faith in God so easily? He knew the Scripture. The truth of God’s love lay embedded in his heart. How different this prison might have been had he clung to Christ.

“Oh God of my fathers, forgive me for being so weak. Give me strength and show me what to do.” Etienne rolled over on his back and stretched. Looking up at the dark ceiling above, he gasped as he realized he could see the stars. The planets twinkled as a flash of yellow and pink covered them, faded, and returned as blue and green.

“The borealis!” whispered Etienne. Sitting up he grinned and raised his hands in praise. The moment was short lived as his eyes fell upon the Indian’s prison and its dried-up riverbed. Etienne stood quickly and placed both hands on the wall. He didn’t even have time to breathe a prayer for help before he tumbled head first into his neighbor’s prison. A gritty pile of sand broke his fall. Dusting himself off, Etienne walked carefully down the narrow gully. Even with his caution he almost fell over the Indian’s inert form. His skin and dull-colored clothing hid him well.

Crouching down beside the man, Etienne grimaced at the smell of blood and sweat. The Indian’s breath came in shallow gasps.

“Wake up!”

No response.

Etienne made the only decision he thought possible. He hoisted the unconscious form onto his shoulders and struggled up the embankment. The trees in his own dark forest would provide nourishment.

He reached the wall. He put a foot out hoping not to tumble headlong again. His foot penetrated the viscous material and he eased through. He carried the Indian to the corner and lay him down gently. Rushing to the nearest tree, he plucked a dull gray flower shaped like a fluted cup. It held the barest sip of water.

The Indian’s eyes opened as Etienne approached. Seeing the flower the man waved his hands and said clearly, “No!”

“But you need water,” Etienne responded.

“Not Torbillon’s water. I will not drink it. It is poison for the soul.”

Thaliena’s warning not to eat Torbillon’s fruit suddenly came rushing back to Etienne’s mind. But this was not fruit.

“Please, you must drink!”

“No, God will provide another way!” argued the Indian.

“God has provided! I’ve asked him and this is what he sent,” said Etienne as he sat down on the grass.

The Indian shook his head sadly, “You have been deceived.” He reached over and took the flower from Etienne and crushed it with his hands. The water inside turned to gold and dripped thickly from his fingers. The crushed remains burst into flames, licked up the liquid gold and disappeared. Etienne’s heart thudded dully in his chest as he recognized the deadly flower as the same he’d seen the thief eating months ago.

The only thing he could think to ask was, “Are your hands burned?”

“No, my friend, Torbillon’s weapons have no power over me.” The Indian leaned close and said, “I am Etchemin, son of The Most High, child of the King of Kings.” He raised both eyebrows and asked, “Who do you say you are?”

“I am Etienne.”

“Etienne? Only Etienne?” asked Etchemin.

“Well, I know The Most High and am determined to believe in him.”

“Determined to believe?” Etchemin’s eye brows soared higher on his forehead.

Etienne suddenly felt foolish, small, and a little angry. He’d just saved this man’s life. He should be thanking him not questioning him.

Shaking off his annoyance he said, “Well, your name is a bit long, Etchemin, son of the Most High, child of the King of Kings. I think I’ll call you Etch for short.”

Etienne had intended to derail the conversation with his wit and it seemed to work. Etchemin grinned and chuckled.

“Etch is a good name. You may call me that if you wish.”

Etienne suddenly realized that Etch seemed to be healing. He looked almost refreshed.

“Why do you seem better?” Etienne asked. “You’ve still not had any water or food. Yet you’re talking and laughing with me. How is this possible?”

Etch sat back and sighed. “I have passed the test. God has seen fit to heal me. Praise him for he is great and mighty!”

“Passed the test, what test?”

Etch raised his eyebrows once again and said, “Are you determined to believe because you want to be rescued, or because you want to please God?”

Before Etienne could answer, Etch continued. “Are you determined to believe because you want to prove something to yourself? Maybe you think your own worthiness of rescue depends on your ability to believe. You are wrong. God will not be played with or manipulated. He does not need you to prove anything to him. He already knows your every thought and desire and longing.”

Etienne’s answer froze in his mouth as the entire forest began to vibrate. Soon the vibration turned to rocking, then to a full fledged earthquake. The tree’s squirmed like noodles in a pot. Flowers and fruit fell. Drained of their liquid, they burst into flames.

Etienne looked at Etch in horror. “What is going on?”

“Torbillon is angry. My prison is empty. I must return.”

“Return! What are you thinking? You can’t go back. Come with me, I know a place where he can’t find us.”

Etienne scrambled over to his corner and leaned against it. It did not give way.

“Thaliena! Thaliena! Help us!” He yelled at the wall. But nothing happened.

Turning to Etch he explained, “There’s a girl, a girl who said something about caregivers. She said she could help us escape.”

The rocking became more violent. The sound of a rushing wind filled the air. Suddenly the giant, Torbillon, stood in front of them. Everything stopped moving. Etienne gaped at the monstrous man standing before them. His bare legs, brown and smooth, were thick and muscular. He wore leather sandals. A grey tunic hung to his knees. A large studded leather belt wrapped around his waist. His mammoth arms, bare like his legs, bore dark tatoos that snaked up his neck, scrolled across his jaw, up both cheeks and wrapped around either side of his smooth bald head. His strangely out-of-place brilliant blue eyes, cold and filled with malice, stared down at them. Something like surprise and fury crossed his face, then melted into a mask of calm.

His voice, steady and controlled, rolled through the shattered forest. “You are lost Etchemin. Come with me and I will return you to your river. I see I’ve dealt with you too severely. You are a strong man. Come with me and I will do you no harm.”

Etch stood and faced Torbillon. Etienne thought this is how David and Goliath of the Bible must have looked as they faced each other in battle.

In a loud voice Etch said, “Enemy of God, you have no power over me. Kill me, release me, or hold me for eternity. I stand for The Most High and bend the knee to no other”

An inscrutable expression passed across Torbillon’s features.

Etienne stepped forward. Courage ebbed below the surface of his heart. He longed to have Etch’s confidence. Even though his legs shook he also faced their common enemy. “I too reject your power over me. Do with us as you will. We stand together.”

Laughter, deep and menacing boomed in Etienne’s ears. “You? You are weak! You only have strength now because of this one beside you. In time I will crush your soul and devour your mind. Now, watch and see what defying me will accomplish.”

Torbillon grasped Etchemin by his shoulders and lifted him high off the ground. When their eyes were level with one another Torbillon sneered and said, “I will rip you into a thousand pieces. You have believed in vain. Your God is dead. There is no God but me.”

Etch looked calmly into his captor’s eyes and said, “You are not God. I do not fear death or life because The Most High lives in me.”

Etch looked down at Etienne and said, “Do not be deceived. Live for The Most High no matter the outcome. Die for him no matter the cost.”

Etienne held his breath and nodded mutely.

Torbillon roared and began to tear Etchemin apart. Etienne closed his eyes and cringed, waiting for a horror filled scream or blood to rain around him. Instead a white light flashed and then abrupt silence. Etienne stood alone in his forest. White flakes like snow and a lovely fragrance hung in the air.

Chapter 5 – Hope

Torbillon stood at the edge of Etchemin’s endless river. The native had no idea the plans laid for him. Two years of paddling had not broken him. Time for something new.
Torbillon waded into the water. He walked straight up the middle of the river, letting the dark waves cover him completely. Etchemin’s boat floated on the surface above. His paddle was not in the water. Torbillon grasped the bow of the boat and rose up from the depths. Etchemin lay on his back in the bottom of the boat, sleeping peacefully.
Disgust filled Torbillon. “How dare you sleep and be at peace!” he hissed. “You will wake to an endless day instead of an endless river.” Sinking back down into the depths, Torbillon opened his mouth and drank the river dry. Etchemin’s canoe rattled onto the rocks of the river bed, waking him.
Torbillon melted into the landscape like a chameleon. He watched as Etchemin sat up and gazed at his new environment. Instead of sorrow, grief or fear the man actually smiled, got out of his boat and began walking the length of the river bed.
“Who is this man that he defies despair?” raged Torbillon inwardly. “You find contentment in this situation, do you?” Once again Torbillon opened his mouth. The river, black and violent, flowed out of his mouth and swept down the walls of the rocky bed toward Etchemin. Etchemin turned, saw the wall of water and dove head first into its turbulent force. Surfacing, he began swimming with the current, a look of adventure and anticipation on his face.

Roaring with rage Torbillon dove into the water and swam toward his stubborn prey. Transforming into a large piranha, Torbillon opened his jaws and clamped down on Etchmin’s right leg ripping into the flesh and tearing away a large chunk. Screams of pain filled the now bloody water. Bearing the wounded man up on his large, scaly back Torbillon flung him back into the canoe that had followed them down the river. Once again he drained the river and walked away from the pain-wracked man. Seventy-two hours of blazing sunshine with no food or water and a gaping, festering wound should do the trick.
“I’ll be back to check on you soon,” Torbillon hissed under his breath as he walked through the silver undulating walls that appeared in front of him.
Back in the riverbed, Etchemin sat up in the canoe. He quickly ripped pieces of his tunic off and wrapped his wound. When he was done, he sat for a moment with his head down and then ever so slowly looked up to the spot where Torbillon had disappeared and allowed a small knowing look to flicker across his face.

Marie:

Unhinged by Etchemin’s strange reaction, Torbillon moved with determination into Marie’s prison. Ah, Marie. Her bravery in fighting the fire that destroyed her home and devoured her family had been truly sickening. Well, at least she’d suffered serious burns on her hands and legs as a result of attempting to rip open the door to the barn where her family had been trapped. Torbillon made sure she heard their screams of terror every night. Her will to live had deteriorated rapidly. But he needed more than that. He needed her to choose folly.
“Marie.” He whispered through the cracks of the barn where he knew she slept each night. “Marie. God has left you. You are alone in this prison of darkness. Give up your hope and come to me.”
Shallow breathing came from the corner where Marie’s small sleeping form lay curled. “It won’t be long now Marie,” Torbillon whispered again. “You will be allowed to die. But you must forget about God and submit to me. I’ll be waiting for you just beyond the corn field.”
A pitiful whine escaped Marie’s mouth but she slept on. Torbillon grinned and sighed. “Soon my love, soon you will be ready.”
Waving his hand, Torbillon released the screams of her tormented family and walked away, smiling as Marie’s cries of despair rang through the dark night.

Etienne:
“One more delicious prisoner to torment,” thought Torbillon, as he entered Etienne’s dark forest. He knew where to find the boy. Etienne had foolishly thought the corner of the forest was a safe place. “There is no safe place, boy,” chuckled Torbillon as he strode to where the boy slept.
Complete surprise washed over Torbillon. The corner lay empty. “What! Where is he?” Rushing like a wind up and down the length of the forest Torbillon searched in vain for his prisoner. “Escaped! Impossible!” he seethed. “He must have found a way into one of the other prisons.”
There were not that many to search. Only six tentacles had inmates. The rest stood empty waiting for fresh souls. “I will find you boy and you will suffer.” he hissed. Torbillon turned and strode towards the center of his vortex.
Etienne stood crammed tightly in the corner. Electric eels of shock and disbelief ran through his veins. His captor was a giant! He’d stood almost as tall as the nearest tree. His hatred and malice still clung to the edges of Etienne’s heart. Shaking off the sense of dread, Etienne crouched down and leaned back against the subtly glowing wall behind him.
How had his captor not seen him? Did this corner hold some sort of magic? Suddenly the wall gave way sending Etienne into a backwards roll that ended with his face mashed into the ground. Except it wasn’t ground. A smooth well-worn wooden floor lay beneath him.
“Hello Etienne!” A girl’s voice, soft and gentle greeted him.
Standing up quickly Etienne looked around the barren wooden tunnel in search of the speaker.
“Don’t be afraid! I have come to help you.”
From one end of the tunnel a warm light bounced and weaved towards him. The girl he’d seen two months ago walked slowly towards him holding her lantern.
“Oh, I’d hoped you’d be the first one! I’m so glad you are here. I’ve waited and prayed for so long.” The girl’s dark hair and eyes shone in the lamplight. Her olive skin, smooth and young, took on a healthy glow. Etienne quickly noted his own ghostly pale skin, disheveled hair, and slovenly appearance. He stood and began tucking in his faded shirt with one hand and shoving back his hair with the other.
“Um, ah, I.” words would not form inside his unbelieving mouth.
“I am Thaliena,” the girl said. “Don’t worry, come and sit.”
Turning back down the hallway, Thaliena led him to a corner much like his, but nothing like his. A sturdy wooden table and chairs sat out in the open. A snug bed with large white pillows and a coverlet with an embroidered tree lay in the subtly glowing corner.
Opening a hatch in the wall, Thaliena produced the first bread Etienne had seen in two long years. She broke off an end and handed it to him. Unable to hold back his joy and desire, Etienne grabbed the bread eagerly and shoved a large piece in his mouth. Rolling his eyes in ecstasy he sat down with a hard thump on the nearest chair. As he chewed, Thaliena poured a glass of clear cold water from a pitcher. Again, he took the offering with eager anticipation. The cool water sailed down his parched throat, easing months of pain and hurt on its way down to his soul.
Finally his first question formed. “You know my name?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Before I came, the caregivers gave me the names of each of the three captives. Marie, Etchimen, and you.”
“Yes, I’ve seen the other two.” said, Etienne. He was about to ask who the caregivers were but the expression on Thaliena’s face stopped him. She looked shocked and slightly alarmed.
“You’ve seen them?” she asked. How?”
After another long drink, Etienne responded, “Three times now the walls have changed.
Each time, I can see the Indian. Etchimen?”
Thaliena nodded.
Etienne continued, “Then the girl must be Marie.”
“Yes,”
“The last time the walls changed I saw you.”
Thaliena raised her left eyebrow in surprise. “I didn’t think anyone could see me. I wonder how that could be.”
“Please,” interrupted Etienne. “Please get me away from here.”
Thaliena sat across the table from Etienne and put her elbows on the smooth surface. Placing her chin in her hands she gazed at Etienne and said, “It’s not that easy. Torbillon has sought to strip you of your faith. It appears he has succeeded.”
Etienne hung his head. “Lost, everything I knew, everything I believed in or loved is lost.”
Thaliena reached her hand across the table and grasped Etienne’s. “You must find your way again. Only then will you be strong enough to leave.”
“Can you leave?” Etienne asked.
“I will never leave as long as the three of you are here.”
“Why? Why would you stay when you could go?”
Thaliena let go of his hand. Her eyes filled with tears. “Because the Most High has sent me to you. My mission is clear. I will not go without you.”
“Then tell me what to do.”
Thaliena’s eyes darkened, “I can not tell you. You already know, deep in your heart what you must do. You just have to find the courage to do it.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t know what I must do! Tell me! I can’t stay another day in this wretched place.” Etienne stood bracing his hands on the table, his eyes bored into Thaliena’s. She did not flinch. Instead, she stood, walked over to the lantern, picked it up and placed it on the table.
“If you call, God will answer you. The light of this lantern will sustain your spirit for one day. After that day you will be tempted to eat Torbillon’s fruit. Do not. Remain steadfast. God will answer the cry of your heart.”
Etienne watched as Thaliena put her hand inside the lantern and moved it as if pulling a fruit from the vine of a tree. When she held out her hand to him it contained a glowing light. “Eat,” she said.
Etienne held out his hand and the light moved into it. The light felt warm but not hot. It flickered and bent toward him. He suddenly remembered the night he was captured. Fear caught in his throat.
“Do not be afraid.” said Thaliena. “The fire of the Most High will sustain you, not harm you.”
Etienne raised this hand haltingly. He opened his mouth and placed the light on his tongue. The light turned liquid and raced down the back of his throat. He could feel it enter his stomach and spread out through every pulsing vein of his body. Joy and peace flowed through him. He bowed his head and wept in thanksgiving.
“Etienne, you will not see me again for some time,” whispered Thaliena. “You must take this journey on your own. Let God search your heart. He knows you and wants to free you. Don’t trust in your feelings or surroundings. Don’t merely allow yourself to exist, but to live.”
Nodding his head, Etienne said, “I will, I will.” He looked up and gasped. He stood in his dark forest once again. Falling to his knees he poured out his heart and determined to hold fast to his faith . . . this time.
“I will never leave as long as the three of you are here.”
“Why? Why would you stay when you could go?”
Thaliena let go of his hand. Her eyes filled with tears. “Because the Most High has sent me to you. My mission is clear. I will not go without you.”
“Then tell me what to do.”
Thaliena’s eyes darkened, “I can not tell you. You already know, deep in your heart what you must do. You just have to find the courage to do it.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t know what I must do! Tell me! I can’t stay another day in this wretched place.” Etienne stood bracing his hands on the table, his eyes bored into Thaliena’s. She did not flinch. Instead, she stood, walked over to the lantern, picked it up and placed it on the table.
“If you call, God will answer you. The light of this lantern will sustain your spirit for one day. After that day you will be tempted to eat Torbillon’s fruit. Do not. Remain steadfast. God will answer the cry of your heart.”
Etienne watched as Thaliena put her hand inside the lantern and moved it as if pulling a fruit from the vine of a tree. When she held out her hand to him it contained a glowing light. “Eat,” she said.
Etienne held out his hand and the light moved into it. The light felt warm but not hot. It flickered and bent toward him. He suddenly remembered the night he was captured. Fear caught in his throat.
“Do not be afraid.” said Thaliena. “The fire of the Most High will sustain you, not harm you.”
Etienne raised this hand haltingly. He opened his mouth and placed the light on his tongue. The light turned liquid and raced down the back of his throat. He could feel it enter his stomach and spread out through every pulsing vein of his body. Joy and peace flowed through him. He bowed his head and wept in thanksgiving.
“Etienne, you will not see me again for some time,” whispered Thaliena. “You must take this journey on your own. Let God search your heart. He knows you and wants to free you. Don’t trust in your feelings or surroundings. Don’t merely allow yourself to exist, but to live.”
Nodding his head, Etienne said, “I will, I will.” He looked up and gasped. He stood in his dark forest once again. Falling to his knees he poured out his heart and determined to hold fast to his faith . . . this time.

Chapter 4 – Healing

Chapter four: Healing

Alouette, gentille alouette
Alouette, je t’y plumerai
Je t’y plumerai la tête
Et la tête, Et la tête

The familiar song, along with the scent of soap, slipped into Thaliena’s dreams. Someone was singing and washing clothes. Maybe Oda or Momma? No, not Momma. Thaliena struggled to remember.

Alouette, gentille alouette
Alouette, je t’y plumerai

The song stopped. The sound of water sloshing and splashing brought everything back in a moment. The river! Her head hurt. She lifted her hands to touch the bandages wound around her head and eyes. “What happened to me?” Her voice sounded dull.
“Ce n’est pas grave” came the soft response. “It is not serious. The bandages will come off in another day. Do not be afraid, my child. I am a friend.”
“Samson.” Thaliena moaned and held her head. “Uncle.”
“Who is Samson?”
“My horse . . . but Uncle, where is Uncle? The fire! the river!”
“Shush dear one. Fear and panic will not help you. Your horse is safely resting in my stable. We will find your uncle. Rest, be at peace.” The gentle voice faded as Thaliena slipped into darkness again.
The next time she awoke she heard the soft voice praying. She recognized the prayer as a portion of Scripture Uncle used to read.

Let my cry come before you. O Lord; Give me understanding according to your word. Let my supplication come before You; Deliver me according to Your word. Let my lips utter praise, For You teach me Your statutes. Let my tongue sing of Your word, For all Your commandments are righteousness. Let Your hand be ready to help me, For I have chosen Your precepts. I long for Your salvation, O Lord, And your law is my delight. Let my soul live that it may praise You, And let your ordinances help me. I have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek Your servant, For I do not forget Your commandments.

The soothing tone lulled Thaliena back to sleep. A peaceful calm floated through her dreams.
Morning light filtered into the room. Thaliena realized her bandages were gone. “I can see.” she whispered. “I am not blind. Oh thank you, Lord. I am not blind.” A tear slipped from her eye.
Her bed sat in the corner of a large room. Its size reminded her of the trading post’s hall, except it was grander and cleaner and brighter than any room that existed at the factory. A great tree grew right in the center of the room. Its flowered branches stretched up and around the wide, wood-beamed ceiling toward the bright windows above. Birds sang and flitted through the leaves. A squirrel scampering across a limb near Thaliena’s bed, stopped, peered down at her for a moment, then continued on its way.
Sitting up, Thaliena swung her foot over the side of her bed and gasped as her feet hit the soft green moss that spread across the length of the floor. The white nightgown she wore shimmered in the sunlight, its iridescent material mesmerizing her for a moment.
Two large wooden doors stood open at the end of the room. She walked towards them, noticing everything as she went. A table set for tea reposed in a windowed corner. A rope swing with a well-worn seat beckoned from the largest tree limb. A large golden harp with intricate carvings sat on a black marble dias, encircled by seven stone chairs with high backs. A different type of instrument sat on each chair.
Now at the wooden doors she stopped and caught her breath. The moss turned into luscious grass and rolled away down a gentle sloping hill stopping at a sparkling river where Samson stood drinking deeply. White birch and aspen trees lined the other side of the narrow river. The aspen leaves seemed almost gold in the sunlight. A meadow filled with wildflowers flowed off to her right, an orchard to her left. Samson whinnied at the sight of her. She raced down the hill and flung her arms around his glossy black neck. “Oh Samson, I am so happy to see you!”
“And he seems glad to have you back.”
Thaliena turned to see who the lovely voice belonged to. A tall woman in bare feet, wearing a similar gown to Thaliena’s stood with her hand on the mane of a pure white horse.
“Here, I’ve brought Ahzielle to meet Samson.” The two horses snorted and pawed the ground. Ahzielle whinnied in delight and raced off toward the meadow with Samson hard on her heels.
“I think they like each other!” laughed the woman.
Thaliena just gazed at her.
The woman smiled gently and said, “I am Kefira-Dayle, daughter of the Most High. Welcome to my home. Come. Tea is ready, let us sit and talk.”
Kefira-Dayle led Thaliena back inside to the tea table. It had a pink tablecloth laden with tea things. Silver tea pots gleamed amid rose patterned cups. White linen napkins folded in the shapes of birds sat beside gold rimmed plates. The aroma of flaky biscuits, plump sausages, and steaming poached eggs produced an unexpected growl from Thaliena’s stomach.
They sat. Kefira-Dayle raised both her hands and her head to the heavens. With her eyes open she prayed, “Most High who is worthy to be praised. We thank you for your love and mercy this day. May our lives be as offerings poured out to you. Bless this nourishment before us and may we be ever grateful for it. To you be the glory and honor forever and ever.”
“Eat, child. You must be starving,” said Kefira-Dayle.
Thaliena ate with pleasure, savoring every bite and feeling she must be in heaven.
“Am I?”
“Are you what, dear?”
“In heaven.”
“No.” A silvery laugh spilled from Kefira-Dayle’s mouth. “You are on earth, I assure you. Though it is a very special place that few like you have seen.”
“Like me? Am I not like you then? I mean are you not . . . human?”
“Human? Yes, I have human blood running through my veins just as you do. I am merely a servant of the Most High.”
“Oh” said Thaliena. “Then, you are not an angel?”
Kefira-Dayle lifted her left eyebrow and smiled in surprise. “An angel? Now that would be something! No, I am not an angel. I am mortal as you, though because of the tree of life I have lived a very long time.”
Kefira-Dayle stood and walked toward the tree in the center of the room. Plucking a small yellow fruit from one of the lower branches she brought it over to the table and set it in front of Thaliena. When she saw the concern in Thaliena’s eyes she explained. “This is not the forbidden fruit that you’ve read about in the holy word. That was the tree of the knowledge of good evil. Much sorrow has and still is occurring as a result of the folly of the first man and woman. This is the tree of life. It has been guarded since the beginning by the cherubim who stand outside our gates. We who have washed our robes and been granted entrance are able to take freely of its fruit.
Thaliena put her tea down and looked at Kefira-Dayle in awe. “The fruit . . . me . . . really?”
“Your reverence is a sign that The Most High has chosen well. I have been told to give you a piece of fruit each day for 729 days.”
“But that’s almost two years. I’m to be here for two years?”
“The Most High says you have much to learn before you can face the task before you. In the meantime, I think I see someone coming over the hill that you will be most glad to see.”
Thaliena looked through the windows and saw Samson and Ahzielle cantering over the hill, followed by another horse bearing a weary rider. A tall, strong-looking man strode beside them.
“Goliath and Uncle!” shouted Thaliena.
Thaliena rushed up the hill. Uncle saw her coming and slipped unsteadily from Goliath’s back. He fell upon her neck weeping with joy. “Ah my darling, child! I thought I had lost you forever. Now, to find you here in this beautiful place. I am overcome.”
“Yes Uncle, It’s as though we’ve fallen from a nightmare into a dream.”
“A dream . . . it is all so . . . ” Uncle suddenly leaned heavily on Thaliena. The man beside them reached down and scooped Uncle up in his arms as if he were a child.
Kefira-Dayle approached and put her arm on Thailena’s shoulders, “Your uncle is simply weary. Bram-Lior will take him to rest.” Turning to the tall man she smiled and said, “We will take the horse, darling. Come, child, I will show you the stables.”

Chapter 3 Thaliena’s story

May 19, 1780: Thaliena’s story
The trading post was busy today. Winter had finally released it’s icy grip on the river, bringing the winter partners and natives to the post in force. Winter partners were hired by the company to live in the interior. Thaliena couldn’t believe the journey some of them took just to get here. Sometimes as many as twenty-two portages were required to reach the factory. But still they came. What a thrill to see the wagons coming up from the docks, bulging with beaver, otter, mink, and fox pelts! Uncle would be so pleased to begin trading in earnest. The winter had been long and tedious.
Thaliena walked quickly past the long lines of traders waiting to enter the factory. She tried to ignore the looks of admiration and pretended she didn’t hear their comments.
“A beauty, that one.”
“Her uncle better keep her close.”
“Just wait till she comes of age. We’ll all be standin’ in line, aye?”
It didn’t bother her to be beautiful. She was grateful for her long black hair, smooth olive skin and dark-as-midnight eyes. Her mother used to tell her that God had a plan to use her beauty for his purposes, just as he did with Queen Esther from the Bible. Thaliena held her head higher and smiled kindly at the men, her mother’s words filling her mind. “Darling Thaleina, always remember that beauty is not something you achieve on your own. It is a gift from your heavenly Father. You must not depend on your outward appearance, but on the character that God is building within you. Be humble and gentle and love God with all your heart.”
“Thaliena. There you are, my beautiful one,” called her uncle as she stepped through the doors of the post. “Come, show these young men what cloth to take home to their wives.”
“Yes, Uncle.”
Superb at the art of selling, trading, and bartering, Thaliena jumped into the work with joy. She could convince any man of his lady’s joy upon receiving the sturdiest dishes from England or the latest fabric and dress designs from France. Her uncle had been less than optimistic the first time she’d talked him into having such “ridiculous items” shipped to their post.
“They’ll never sell to our customers!” he protested. “What use do Indians, farmers, and winter partners have for these, these expensive luxuries?”
But when they’d completely sold out of all their items after the first season, her uncle was convinced. Of course, Thaliena was pleased to be able to create the latest fashions for herself as well. The white skirt and black bodice she wore today made her feel clean and neat and fresh. Her silver shirt broach gleamed every time the light hit it. Her skirts swished about her legs in the most satisfying way.
It was almost evening when the welcome thought of the cozy rooms she shared with Uncle pushed into her mind. Eager to rest her feet and enjoy the tasty meal Uncle’s sister Oda would have ready for them, Thaliena approached her uncle.
“Time to close up, Uncle?” she asked hopefully.
“Ah, we’ve had a good day Cherie, no?”
“Oui, Uncle. Would you like me to help you close?”
“No, no, you run on. I’ll be home soon.”
Sure enough, Oda had a kettle of tea simmering and a black pot over the fire filled with savory soup. The toasty smell of french bread hung in the air.
Hanging her cloak on a hook by the door, Thaliena turned to see Oda’s ample backsid as she bent over the pot of soup. A cook like Oda was hard to come by. Uncle was lucky his sister loved him so much. She cooked and cleaned for them in the afternoons and then went home to serve her own family.
“French bread, Oda? What a nice surprise.”
“Oui, If only I had ten egg yolks everyday! The hens were laying so fast this week I could hardly keep up. So, french bread isn’t all we’ll be enjoying tonight. I’ve got a ginger cake ready. Now you just sit yourself down there by the fire and rest a bit.”
Thaliena grinned and sat on the stool near the fire and began stirring the soup. Her grin quickly gave way to furrowed brows. Sitting here always reminded her of her mother’s death. She died just after breakfast on Thaliena’s seventh birthday. Uncle had held her by this fire. As she wept, he’d stroked and stroked her hair.
“Uncle, I’ll never ever be happy again without Momma.”
“Ah my Cherie, it is true that some sorrows last a lifetime, but a lifetime . . . it is not forever. This is a dark time for us, but do not fear little one. God will always see us through our darkest times, one way or another.”
Turning, she looked into the tear-filled eyes of her uncle and knew that he would always watch over her . . . and she him.
“Aha! I am home!” Uncle shouted as he burst through the door, startling Thaliena from her thoughts. “And what do I find here by my fire? A beautiful rose stirring the soup.”
Thaliena laughed as uncle stooped and kissed her forehead.
“What serious eyes you have tonight Liena.”
“I was thinking of Momma. No, I was actually thinking of you more, Uncle.”
“Oh, and what were you thinking of me . . . good things, I hope?”
“Always good. I love you very much.”
“Ah, I am glad to hear it. Nothing makes me happier. What do you think, Oda? Do I have the most beautiful and gentle girl for a niece or not?”
Oda grinned as she pulled on her coat, getting ready to leave for the night. “You are the luckiest old goat I know. To have such a girl to love and care for you is a privilege. Now if I could just teach her how to cook . . . you wouldn’t need me anymore.”
“Oh Oda, I can’t imagine things here without you,” said Thaliena. “Besides, you’ve taught me to sew.”
“But you must also be a good cook in order to run a home. If your uncle will release you from trading I could begin to teach you the things you need to know.”
Uncle made a funny noise in his throat, “No, no, Il m’est impossible de le faire. Without Thaliena at the post.. . . well . . . no . . . no . . . impossible.”
Oda raised her left eyebrow and said, “You see, you want to keep me your slave forever.”
“Forever, then. Good, it’s settled,” quipped Uncle.
Oda harumphed and put her coat on. “Well, old man, you and I are not getting younger. This young lady needs to learn more than bargaining and counting. She’ll have a house of her own someday.” With that she opened the door and smiled at them as she stepped outside. “You two have to accept you can not be tied at the hip forever. Someday Thaliena will have to come into her own. Good night.”
“Well! Tied at the hip. Preposterous!” Growled Uncle as Thaliena set his soup in front of him. “I give you freedom to go where you want, aye?”
“Yes, uncle. Don’t worry. Oda has many responsibilities. It would be nice for her if I could handle meals over the Sabbath at least. Maybe she can start teaching me on Saturdays.”
“Saturdays? We still trade on Saturdays. But, perhaps. Let’s think of this later. Now, let’s thank our Lord for his blessings.”
Thaliena settled in to her seat. She loved Uncle’s prayers.
“Dear Father above, teach us how to follow you. Give us understanding of your laws so we may keep them with all our hearts. Turn our eyes away from vanity and establish your word within us. Make your ways our ways. Incline our hearts to be gracious and fair and kind to those you put in our life. Keep dishonest gain or foolish talk far from our lips. For this bounty we are about to receive we are grateful. Thank you Lord, Amen.”

Later that night:
Thaliena sat on a strong, wide, wooden rail in the highest guard tower. The fort overlooked Moose River. The northern lights were already dancing in the sky above. Oh, how she loved the quiet and solitude of this place. It was well fortified and secure. The biggest threats seemed to be from within, since the British had taken control. Uncle often ranted about how the new Factor who managed the trading post was going to ruin everyone with his stringent rules. But still, she and Uncle and Oda and a few others had been allowed to stay and maintain their roles within the trading post. For this she was grateful. The Fort was all she’d ever known. It was her home.
The lights were more brilliant than usual. She hummed a French tune as she watched. The night grew darker and the lights wilder. They almost seemed to sweep down into the tree line and light up the forest. Sitting up taller, she peered at the forest. Was that a fire? The forest was lit oddly. There had been no storms, no lightening to threaten them. What could that light be? As she looked her heart began to pound. It was a fire, a very large one, and it was moving fast. Even as she climbed down from her railing she heard the alarm sound. “Fire! Fire!” called the guards.
Thaliena had barely started down the street when Oda came running towards her. “Quick, Thaliena, your uncle needs you to help prepare the horses and the wagon. I’ve packed a basket with leftover bread and cheese and venison. Take what you can as quickly as you can. Oh, God be with you Thaliena, my dear. Now go quickly!”
The fire was massive. It took less than three hours for it to sweep over hundreds of acres. It moved with supernatural speed, destroying everything in its path. The smoke rose so high it blocked out the moon. Thaliena grasped the side of their wagon and hoped the horses could make it to the river. She and Uncle had been able to pile their wagon high with pelts and household goods. They, along with the guards, were the last to leave the fort. Looking behind her, she cried out to see her dear home engulfed in flames. The guard tower she’d been sitting in just a few hours ago blazed like a torch in the smoky night. If they could get to the river where the boats were they could take the current down to the next settlement. The sound of crashing trees, and voracious flames were close behind them. The horses, Samson and Goliath, suddenly reared and snorted. Thick fog rolled up the hill towards them, obscuring their vision.
Uncle hollered. “We’re almost to the river. We’re going to have to leave the wagon. I must untie the horses so they’ll have a chance.”
“No, no, no!” pleaded Thaliena. “You’ll never release them in time!”
“Go to the river now!” ordered Uncle. “Just run straight ahead and don’t stop until you feel the water around you. If there are no boats left you must jump in and let the river carry you to safety. I will be right behind you.”
“Uncle, Uncle, I’m so afraid!”
“I love you, my Cherie, God will be with you and with me. Now go!”
Thaliena picked up her skirts and ran. On the outskirts of her vision flames now raced down the tree line towards the river. Smoke burned her eyes. Suddenly she felt the water under her feet. It was strangely warm. She hadn’t gone far into the river when the huge form of a horse crashed in beside her. She grasped its mane and let it carry her into the middle of the river.
“Oh, Samson, Samson, it’s you! Where is Uncle? Uncle! Uncle!”
There was no sign of Uncle or Goliath. Grasping Samson, she flung herself onto him and held on. The current swept them along. Deer, fox, and even birds traveled with them on floating debris. Smoke and charred flecks fell all around. Suddenly a flaming tree stuck up out of the water.
“Oh, Samson! Swim around!” she tried in vain to steer the horse out of the way but the burning limb struck her full in the face. Screaming, she released her hold on Samson and dove deep.
The silence under the water jarred her eyes open. The river was awash in green and yellow light. She could feel herself moving swiftly with the current but strangely everything seemed to be moving at exactly the same pace. Thaliena’s eyes widened at the sight of a slowly spinning vortex just a few feet in front of her. It seemed to be reaching out for her, drawing her in. Green and yellow light radiated from the points of six spiraling arms. She drew closer to the mouth of the vortex. One of the arms reached out as if to grasp her. Inside another arm she saw an Indian staring up at her from a red canoe. He stood, balancing his feet perfectly and placed both hands on either side of his mouth. A call clear and beautiful shattered the silence. Water suddenly exploded around her obliterating any sign of the strange vision. She gasped as her head surfaced. Samson had her.
“Oh Samson,” she gasped. “Thank you!”
The adrenalin of the past few minutes abated. Total darkness had enveloped her. “I can’t see. Samson. I can’t see!” She put her hands to her face and felt the burnt flesh around her eyes. The tree branch must have done that, but how then was she able to see in the water? Pain hit quickly, took her breath away, threatened to knock her off the horse and back into the water. Remembering what was down there she wound her hands around Samson’s mane and prayed for rescue.

Torbillon: (Ch. 2 insert) Scroll down to read from the beginning of the story.

 

Torbillon stood in the center of his vortex, arms extended, palms touching the silver glowing, pulsating walls.

“Hmmmmm,” he closed his eyes and sighed as power filled him. The thief’s decline into despair and madness had provided this wonderful resurgence of energy.

There were others close to the edge as well. However, none of them would provide the power of the boy Etienne, the Indian Etchemin, and of course Marie. They were the strongest. It would be delicious to break them. But who to start with. Etienne seemed the likely choice. He’d given up his belief so easily. Tormenting Marie gave him pleasure. And crushing the will of Etchemin, well, that he couldn’t wait for.  Yes, Etchemin would take some time. He must be first.

The vortex walls slowed their rhythm. His strength had returned. Standing to his full height of eight feet, Torbillon gazed at his reflection in the now smoothly polished walls around him. Magnificent, that’s how he felt. Strong, invincible, bent on destroying humanity one life at a time. They were puny, so easily persuaded. He’d never met one he couldn’t crush. Given time they all fell into despair.  Despair led to folly and folly led to madness and madness led to . . . power for him.

Now, what to do about Etchemin. A smile slow and sinister spread across Torbillon’s rugged face as an idea entered his twisted mind. He placed his hands on the silver walls, and they gave way enveloping him as he walked through and into the prison where Etchemin paddled down a never-ending river.

Prisoners: Chapter two (scroll down for prelude and Ch.1)

Two years. It had been two years. White scratches imbedded in the sooty bark of a tree marked the days of Etienne’s imprisonment. Translucency helped him keep track. Translucency occurred every twenty-four hours. The curved walls and ceiling looked like frozen sea water. The diffused light created a sense of twilight in the dark forest.

That first day of confusion seemed so long ago. Though he still couldn’t figure out where he was or why, he no longer believed he was dead or in hell.  He was a prisoner.  His prison was 53 paces wide by 2,231 paces long. He walked from one end of the narrow forest to the other 5 times a day. During one of his walks he discovered that the far end narrowed abruptly, creating a corner.

He also counted trees each day. On odd days there were 349 trees, even days 220. Odd-day trees were laden with strange fruit and flowers. He avoided certain trees because their smell made his head ache. But the others had fruit that quenched thirst and curbed hunger. He tried to save fruit for the even days, but it always disappeared by morning.

The first weeks and months he trembled in fear of the utter darkness that descended each night. Then one night he noticed that the “corner” maintained a constant glow. This is where he slept.

His first year, he spent much of his time reciting poetry, the names of his family members, and Scripture verses. Not that the verses meant anything to him anymore. They were just words. Nothing ever changed. On the 365th day of imprisonment, he walked the length of the forest twelve times. His feet ached but not as much as his soul. Looking up into the starless, empty sky, he shouted into the darkness. “How can I trust that you have a purpose and a plan for my life when you have abandoned me? When will you hear me? When will you rescue me? What kind of God would allow this suffering? Your word taught me that all things work together for the good of those who love you. Well, this is not good! You clearly do not love me! Why have you done this to me!”

No reply came. Once again Etienne felt the weight of silence. Something deep within him wanted to believe God was good and had a plan, but the evidence of 365 days stood in his way. That was the last day he prayed. No longer would he call upon a mute God.

Life without purpose. That’s what this was. But still he held on to a fragment of hope. Three times now, the walls of the forest became transparent. The frozen walls cleared and revealed the outside world: a village, a mountain, a river. Once he saw the sun setting ablaze over a crystal clear lake. He wept again that day.

His greatest comfort came from seeing the other prisoners. They too were trapped in long tunnels, though each of them had a different setting. The farm girl had a blackened corn field and the empty shell of a barn. The Cree Indian had a dark, never-ending river and a red canoe. Etienne decided to call the third prisoner the thief. The thief’s prison was the worst: a grey valley filled with the dried bones of a million horses.

The first day of transparency he saw the others. They saw him as well. The girl leaned her forehead against her wall and looked so sad it broke his heart. The Indian stopped paddling and stared, searching Etienne’s face for any sign of escape. He shook his head in response and the Indian returned to his endless journey down the river. The thief, on the other hand, started jumping and yelling, trying to communicate. His clothes were ripped and bloodied. His hair hung in greasy strands. He looked like a madman for sure. Etienne shrugged his shoulders and motioned that he was trapped as well. The thief pulled his hands through his greasy hair and fell to his knees, weeping.

Months passed before he saw them again. The girl and the Indian seemed the same but the thief looked completely insane. He sat with his knees clasped against his chest, rocking and mumbling to himself. He held a black flower trimmed with gold in his hand. He stared blankly at Etienne and took a bite of the flower. Gold flecks on his lips turned to liquid and dripped from his mouth. Etienne watched as the wild man continued rocking back and forth. The remains of the black flower lay on the ground. Suddenly it shriveled up and burst into flames. The thief didn’t even look at it.

When the last transparency occurred, the thief was gone. In his place stood a young girl with black hair, olive skin, and eyes as dark as midnight. She stood in a barren cabin, whose walls stretched out behind her in an endless wooden tunnel. She did not look at Etienne or the others. She held up a lantern from which the most beautiful light burned. Placing her hand inside the lantern, she pulled off a piece of the light and put it in her mouth. Only then did she turn toward Etienne. Her eyes glowed like softly lit lamps. Darkness clamped down on the prison walls.

That was two months ago. Today marked the second year of captivity. Etienne longed for the next transparency. There was something different about that prisoner. She seemed strangely unaffected by her surroundings. Maybe she knew a way of escape. Etienne waited in his forest and hoped.

Questions:

1. Do you think a year is a long time to wait for God to answer?

2. What do you think the black flower rimmed in gold and the lantern with edible light represent?

Chapter One: Etienne

Etienne

The forest looked dead. Black leafless trees covered in soot rose into the eerie blue night. Étienne sat cross-legged on the barren ground, head in his hands. Nothing lived here. He wasn’t even sure he was alive. This was supposed to be the day he had looked forward to for eighteen years. Instead, he was lost, trapped in this lifeless wood.
His hike that morning took him deep into the northern Canadian forest. Leaving his nine brothers and sisters was a relief at the time. How they chattered and bickered! As the eldest, Etienne was often called upon by his mother to set them straight. His bellow at breakfast, “Enough! Sit down!” stopped all but the twins in their tracks. Five bottoms promptly dropped onto the benches around the table. Of course his strength and authority were pale in comparison to Papa’s. He had lifted both sets of squabbling twins—Edward and Ean on the right and Daniel and Dennis on the left—and growled, “Get yourselves to the table NOW!” They went quickly.
Etienne was proud of his father. He was one of the few French fur traders still welcome at the trading post. The British valued him as an ambassador to the Cree Indians and a superior hunter of the sought-after beaver pelt.
Papa spoke, “Today, Etienne is released from our care. He will go on a journey to find his God-given purpose. Stand, Etienne!”
Etienne stood and grinned at his rowdy siblings as they burst into congratulations and began thumping their wooden bowls on the table with shouts for a speech.
“Fine, fine, you bunch of ruffians. I’ll speak, once you are SILENT!” A few broken giggles and snorts floated off into the air as Etienne began. “I have been privileged to be your eldest brother, even though you are all a bunch of lowly cretins!” Cheers erupted around the table. “I will go on this journey, and I will return with a destiny and a purpose.
Papa clasped Etienne around the shoulders. In his deep, booming voice Papa prayed, “Father God who has seen fit to bless us with this son, we thank you. We pray for your protection upon him. Keep his heart strong and his mind open. When he encounters darkness, remind him that you are a lamp unto his feet and a light unto his path. Amen.” Etienne grinned as his Papa crushed him in a bear hug. “Good!” said Papa, “Let us eat!”
Groaning at the memory, Etienne looked up into an empty sky. Clearly not the same sky he saw a few hours before when he made camp at Moose River. The trees on the other side of the river were visible in the bright light of the moon. Millions of stars burned in the heavens. The Aurora Borealis danced across the sky. Yellow, red, purple, and blue crossed paths with each other and erupted into blazing combinations. Throwing themselves up and then down, across, and round and round. As the night darkened, the lights grew more numerous. Etienne had lost himself in the wonder of it all and stood with arms raised shouting and dancing to the God of his fathers. Strength and joy filled his heart.
Then something changed. Suddenly the flames of his fire leapt up to an incredible height. Etienne stepped back from the ring. He gasped as one flame stood taller than the rest and leaned threateningly over his head. Shocked, Etienne rushed to his water jug and threw what was in it at the blazing tower. In response, the fire grew until it stretched above the young birch trees nearby. Believing he’d somehow started the fire, Etienne grabbed the water jug and raced to the river. Heat slammed into his back. Turning, he saw individual torches running towards him as if they had legs and arms. Etienne called out, “What in the name of the Father is happening!” In answer, the flames rose and shot over his head. Like backwards-shooting stars, they flung themselves into the river. Steam hissed and rose. The river boiled and frothed like a living thing. Suddenly an inferno rose out of the water taller and taller. The sound of a million forest fires roared in Etienne’s ears. He stumbled backward as two blazing arms reached out and wrapped around his chest. The smell of his burning flesh filled the air. His tormentor soared higher and higher. Etienne became one with the northern lights in a dance of pain and terror. Suspended for a moment, he took in the boiling river below where an enormous whirlpool spun and strained toward him. Agony and fear seared his mind as he fell shrieking into the void. 
He awoke in this lifeless wood. He feared he was dead—or worse, in hell. Hell? Impossible. Desperate, Etienne began to pray.
“God of my fathers, you see me and you know me.” His voice sounded muffled in the thick air.
“You know I am here.” Silence.
“You know how to rescue me.” The air grew cold.
“Help me.” Nothing moved.
“If I have gone mad, heal me.” A throbbing pain began behind his eyes.
“If I have died, show yourself to me, so I might know your goodness.”
Silence pressed in around him. He strained to hear an answer. No answer came. Nothing came. Not even peace. Fear reigned. A horrible thought entered his mind. “You are in hell. There is no God. There is only this. This nothingness. You will never see the sun or the moon or your family again. Here is where you will stay, without hope, without purpose, a dead man forever.” Etienne’s heart raced as a groan big and horrifying escaped from his mouth. It rang through the dark wood and grew in intensity until his heart burst with grief and he collapsed senseless on the ground.

INTERACTIVE SECTION:

Questions:

1. Have you ever found God to be silent during an especially difficult time?
2. What did you do?
3. If you were Etienne what would you do next?

My writers covenant

Well, I’m putting myself in front of the firing squad. I realize as a writer that simply posting anything I write could be dangerous to my self-esteem.  So, I’m making a couple of commitments to you all:

1) I am committed to the process. I will not allow criticism to derail me from continuing. So feel free to let me know what you think.

2) I am committed to my faithful readers. I will complete this even if only one of you hangs on till the bitter end. (MOM?)

3) I am committed to my faith. If you know me at all ,you know I am a believer in Christ Jesus. So, don’t freak out on me if some of my characters seem to be questioning the existence or reality of God.  The characters must take the journey on their own. Don’t worry, some may choose differently but they do not necessarily reflect the decisions I would make personally.

 

Prelude

Torbillon

May 19, 1780

The vortex spun through the deep Canadian forest, magnifying trees, grass, sticks and

moss. It was hungry. Hungry for a life to feed on. It had been weeks since the last

frightened mind had been so easily consumed. The pitiful boy had barely fought at all.

The next would be chosen carefully. The crushing of a strong mind was exhilarating. It

gave him power. The search for that one fresh, willful soul drove him on. So he

searched, longing for the games to begin.

What if?

What if you had no destiny, no purpose, and no God? I don’t want to know what you believe. I want to know what you would do if you had nothing to believe in. For some who have much faith this question is out of the question. But, think about it. What if?

Torbillon is an exploration of one man’s attempt to deal with this very thing. His whole world is about to be shattered by a mind bending vortex named Torbillon.  The only hope for survival lies in the hands of a young girl who has been given true sight by a stranger. But will anyone listen to her?