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  FROM A FAR LAND

  Jaben’s Rift, book 1

  G. David Walker

  Copyright © 2010 by G. David Walker

  All rights reserved

  Dedicated to my family, who put up with my highs and lows as I chased a dream through the land of Teleria. Special thanks to K.B. and everyone else who offered their advice and suggestions.

  Every day, every moment, is another step on the journey.

  Find out more about G. David Walker and his upcoming projects at

  http://www.gdavidwalker.com

  Contents

  Prologue

  Doorway

  A New Day Dawns

  First Impressions

  A Matter of Opinions

  On the Road

  Reunion

  Lore’s Haven

  Beginnings

  Friends, Food, and Fear

  Loss

  Muddy Water

  Decisions, Decisions

  Homecoming

  More Questions

  Puzzle Pieces

  Revelations

  The Best Laid Plans

  Starting Over

  Visitors

  Soul Searching

  Bird’s Eye View

  Deceptions

  Knocking on Doors

  Landscar

  Battle for Teleria

  Confrontation

  Turning the Tables

  Surprise

  Epilogue

  Appendix

  Prologue

  The ancient structure crouched in the middle of the Scottish woods. For centuries, it had waited…

  The sound of crunching leaves broke the late afternoon stillness as a solitary figure pushed through the tangle of brush toward the building. Mesmerized by his discovery, Jason Bennett shrugged off assaults by vines and brambles battling to hold their hard-won territory. The teenager stopped as a particularly stubborn bramble won a skirmish with his sleeve, a victory heralded by a loud rip.

  “Oh, man!” He scowled at the suntanned skin peeking through the hole in his new shirt. Mom’s gonna kill me, he thought.

  With a sharp jerk, he freed his sleeve and forged ahead. A few more steps brought him to the entrance. He eyed what was left of the door lying beside the building, almost obscured by weeds and grass, then looked at the gaping maw where it had hung. His gaze slowly traveled around the crumbling edges of the opening. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. Almost before the thought could register, he stepped inside.

  Overhead, the roof had fallen in at several spots, splashing the dirty floor with rubble-strewn patches of sunlight. Vines and creepers covered portions of the walls, and a large section of one wall in the front room had collapsed. The musty smell of mold and decaying leaves filled the air. He kicked a clod of dirt, watching it shatter into dust as it hit the wall. It was just an overgrown ruin, similar to the old, decrepit shacks he had seen back home, the only difference being that this one was made of stone instead of wood.

  He explored a few of the rooms, but found nothing except more dirt and dead leaves. It was beginning to get dark, so he decided to head back to his great uncle’s house. As he turned to leave, the lengthening shadows revealed a glow coming from somewhere deeper inside the building.

  Intrigued, he went in search of the source of the light, the approaching dusk forgotten for the moment. He followed the flickering radiance to a room that appeared to have weathered the passage of time better than the others. The light came from a doorway on the other side of the room. It looked like it opened to the outside, although he would have sworn he was in the middle of the building.

  Maybe there’s a courtyard or something like that, he thought. The light might be coming from something out there. Ignoring the small voice of caution in the back of his mind, he stepped through the door.

  The light disappeared. The building was empty once more.

  *****

  Something has changed. The being raised its head as a ripple in the ether disturbed its self-contemplation. Was it time? For centuries the being had waited, sometimes watching the interaction between the points of light and darkness that traversed the flowing colors of the vista before it. At other times, it would turn its attention inward, pondering its own existence for decades at a time.

  Now, another moved along a dark thread toward the intricate ballet the being had observed for so long. Yet this new addition was neither light nor dark. It shifted between one end of the spectrum and the other, a rainbow condensed into a single point of existence.

  A whispering echo broke the silence. “So, he has found the way at last.”

  The being knew it was not supposed to interact with the dancers, and, for the most part, it had observed the Covenant. It remembered how easily the points of light now twirling before it could be extinguished. But now it reached out and, ever so slightly, shifted the end of the dark thread upon which the newcomer traveled. The others will not know, it thought.

  “And so it begins. A new song for the dance.”

  Then it watched as the rainbow point of light approached the end of the dark thread…

  Doorway

  Where am I? A black void surrounded Jason. There was no sound, no sense of motion, nothing. Am I dead? His heart pounded against his ribs, and the coppery taste of panic filled the back of his throat. Then a tiny glimmer of light appeared, a lonely star in an empty sky, bleeding streaks of color into the darkness. The colors swirled and eddied around him in a fluid kaleidoscope of ever-changing hues. He saw shapes beginning to form. With each passing second, the shapes became clearer and more distinct, until he found himself standing outside a small stone building in the middle of a forest glade.

  He spun around, but the door he had just stepped through was nowhere to be seen. What the...? Running a shaky hand through his hair, he gazed about. He jerked back to face the cottage as he heard footsteps inside. Before he could think, the door opened and he was staring into the eyes of an old man.

  The man searched Jason’s face with eyes that brought to mind slate gray storm clouds just before the rain begins. Then a wide smile spread across the old man's face as he grabbed Jason's arm and pulled him inside.

  "Welcome, traveler! Be welcome in my home. You are from the Far Planes, are you not? Your garb is much different from those who live here. Let me look at you.” He stepped back, his eyes taking in every detail of Jason's appearance.

  Jason studied the old man in turn. He wore a simple green robe that brushed lightly against the floor. Wispy hair the color of new snow grazed the man's shoulders, held in check by a headband of shimmering metal. He should have a long white beard, he thought in the back of his mind.

  The man looked him up and down. “Hmm. Ah well, in any case, it matters not where you are from. I am simply pleased that you are here.”

  At this point Jason had regained just enough composure to ask, “Excuse me, but where, exactly, is here?”

  The man's eyes widened. “Do you mean to say you do not know? You, my boy, have the pleasure to be in, and I apparently have the honor of welcoming you to, the world of Teleria.”

  Hold it! Did he just say ‘the world of'? He started to repeat his question with slightly more emphasis on the word 'exactly' when the man's eyebrows flew up and he said, “Oh dear. Where are my manners? I have not even introduced myself.”

  He bowed. “I am Reyga Falerian, Emerald Loremaster, saiken lo, and Elder of this province, but it would please me if you would simply call me Reyga. Please, sit down and let me get some refreshments. Then we will talk.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left the room. Jason stared after him for a few moments and then looked around.

  It was a modest home, with shelves of books and stacks of scrolls tak
ing up every available space. He glanced at one lying on a small table beside him, but couldn't decipher the symbols covering it. An ornate staff of dark wood, crowned by a green crystal the size of Jason's fist was propped in a corner. In the fireplace on the far wall, an energetic fire burned. He frowned as he looked at it. The cheerful blaze danced on a single small stick. Huh. That’s kinda weird.

  As he scanned the rest of the room, his eyes focused on a large mirror on the far wall. Then he realized it wasn’t showing the room where he was sitting. As he watched, the image rippled like the surface of a pond. He was about take a closer look when Reyga came back into the room, carrying two large ceramic mugs and a platter loaded with various fruits. Reyga handed one of the mugs to him and, after grabbing a few pieces of fruit, sat down.

  “Now, tell me your tale, young man. Where are you from? How do you come to be in Teleria?” He waited for Jason's answers with a look of anticipation dancing in his storm-cloud eyes.

  Jason lowered himself into a chair. “Well, uh, I’m from Missouri.”

  The old man looked shocked. “Misery? What a dreadful name! Is that the name of your world?”

  “No, not ‘misery.’ Missouri. And that’s not the name of my world, just the part where I live. My world is called Earth.” And this is a conversation I never thought I’d be having, he added to himself.

  “Hmm. And what do you do in Miz-oor-ee?”

  Jason shrugged. This had to be a dream. “Not much. I go to school. I'm on my school's basketball team.”

  “Basket-ball? What is that?”

  "It's a sport,” Jason said. “We go up against other schools.”

  “Ah, you do battle to establish dominance over these others.”

  “Well, not exactly. I mean, sure we want to dominate them. But not the way I think you think...I mean...I think.” Jason shook his head. “Well, in any case, it's just a game.”

  Reyga nodded slowly. “I see. Well then, tell me how you came to Teleria.”

  “I'm not really sure.” He pretended to study his mug as he thought about the chain of events that had brought him here.

  He and his parents had been visiting his great uncle, Nyall McFarland, outside Aberdeen, Scotland that summer. Uncle Nyall was rather well to do and owned a sizeable piece of land in the Scottish countryside that had been in the McFarland clan for generations. Jason and his family hailed from slightly more modest accommodations, namely a medium sized ranch-style home in the Missouri Ozarks.

  His parents had planned this vacation so that Jason could see his family’s ancestral lands. As soon as they arrived, they and the McFarlands started talking about old times, long lost friends and relatives, and what seemed like the entire lineage of their family all the way back to the Roman Empire. His father loved family history, and he figured his dad was practically in heaven discussing it at length.

  He endured for almost an hour before excusing himself. He didn’t want to make a bad impression on their hosts by dozing off right in the middle of a riveting story about how great, great, something-or-other McFarland had fallen asleep in the middle of milking a cow, and cost his wife first place in the county baking contest because she didn’t have any milk for her muffins. He’d decided it was a good time to see his family’s ancestral lands on his own.

  While strolling the grounds, he had spotted some woods not far from the house. A trail led through them. He’d felt an irresistible urge to follow that trail.

  Then he found the building, and the doorway that led to this place. This world.

  He looked up from his mug to see Reyga watching him expectantly. He shrugged again. “There's not much to tell. I was taking a walk, found an old building, and when I walked through one of the doors, I came here.”

  Reyga studied his face. “Very well,” he said finally. “Perhaps you would like to know a little of our fair world?”

  “Yeah, sure,” he said, more from a desire to redirect the conversation away from himself than anything else.

  “Well.” Reyga took a sip from his mug. “Where to start, where to start? Hmm. I suppose, as with any story, the best place to begin is, of course, at the beginning! Listen, and learn of our world.

  “To begin, this world is called Teleria, as I mentioned before. But the Teleria you see today has not always been as it is now.

  “Ages ago, according to legend, our world had reached the pinnacle of technological achievement. The ravages of aging and of disease had been vanquished, hunger had been abolished, and wondrous technology even allowed men to venture beyond this world. No one wanted for anything. It was a time of peace and prosperity. This was the First Age of Teleria. Then came the Devastation.

  “Most of the records of that time have long since crumbled to dust,” Reyga said. “The bits and pieces of information that we do have were almost lost until the system of Loremasters was established.” He waved a hand. “But I get ahead of myself. First, let me tell you what is known of the Devastation, and then I will tell you what came to pass afterwards.”

  He leaned forward to grab a few more pieces of fruit before settling back more comfortably in his chair.

  “Unfortunately, we have not been able to learn who started the Devastation. Of course, I suppose at this point in time that information is rather unimportant. All that is important for us is that someone struck the first blow.

  “That day saw weapons unleashed of incredible destruction, the likes of which we can only imagine. In the end, it did not matter who started the War, for it was over in two days. The surface of our world had been decimated, and mankind had destroyed itself. Thus ended the First Age of Teleria.”

  Jason shook his head. Then he blinked his eyes a few times and shook his head again.

  Reyga leaned forward. “Are you all right, my boy?”

  Jason pinched himself. “Oh sure. No problem. I'm just trying to wake up. That's all.”

  The old man looked confused. “Forgive me, but did you say you were trying to wake up?”

  “Yep. Sure did,” he said. “I'm sorry, but this can't be real. I'm not really here and neither are you. This whole thing is some sort of weird dream. I've either passed out in that old house, or a stone came loose and knocked me out, or maybe I got a whiff of some hallucinogenic mushroom. I don't know.” He tilted his head. “On the other hand, I might never have taken that walk at all. I might still be in bed dreaming this whole thing.”

  “Why do you believe this to be a dream?”

  “Why? Why? Because this sort of thing doesn't happen, that's why! It's impossible! This is like something you'd see on some late night sci-fi show on TV. In real life, you don't just step through a doorway and find yourself in another world. It just doesn't happen!”

  “Ah, I see,” Reyga said. “While I do not know what the words 'sigh-fy' or 'teevee' mean, I believe I am beginning to understand. I am afraid this is no dream, my young friend. Tell me, does your world not have portal abilities?”

  Jason gritted his teeth and slapped himself. Blinking through watering eyes, he was disappointed to see that there was still no change in his surroundings. His ears ringing, he muttered, “No. I don't even know what a ‘portal' is.”

  “Then I am certain it has been quite a shock for you to find yourself transported to a completely foreign world.”

  “Yeah, if I thought this was real it would be a shock. Since it's just a dream, though, it doesn't bother me at all. In fact, the only annoying thing is that I can't seem to make myself wake up.”

  “Of course. Tell me… I am sorry, what was your name?”

  “Jason. Jason Bennett.”

  “Tell me, Jason Bennett, can one feel pain in their dreams?”

  He thought about it. “Well, I've always been told you can't feel pain in your dreams. That's why people always want someone to pinch them to make sure they're awake. But it sure didn't feel too hot when I smacked myself.” His face brightened. “Maybe that's because I did it to myself. Yeah, that has to—”

  The calm e
xpression on Reyga's face gave no warning as his hand flashed out in a blur, and was just as suddenly back in his lap. Stars briefly obscured Jason's vision as a shock of pain exploded across the side of his face.

  “OWW!” He grabbed his cheek. “What was that for?”

  Reyga leaned forward. “Please forgive me, Jason Bennett, but it was necessary. It is vital that you understand that this is no dream. Teleria is a pleasant mistress to all who know her, but there are things in our land that make short work of those who believe they are dreaming, and I would not see you meet such an untimely, not to mention unpleasant, demise.”

  He stood and walked over to the window, glancing outside. “Perhaps you have learned enough of Teleria for today. The night will soon be upon us. I will prepare a place for you to rest tonight.”

  The mention of nightfall brought Jason to his feet. “Night? If this isn't a dream, then my folks are probably going nuts by now wondering where I am. I need to get home.” He looked around. “How do I get back?”

  Reyga's expression gave way to one of profound sympathy. “I am very sorry, Jason Bennett, but there is no way for you to return. Teleria is your home now.”

  He stared at Reyga, mouth agape. “No way back? What do you mean there's no way back? I can't stay here. I have a family, and friends. I have to get home!”

  Reyga shook his head. “Would that I could send you back. But while we have the ability to create small portals within the confines of our own world,” he gestured toward the object Jason had originally mistaken for a mirror, “we do not have the power to create portals to other worlds. Our wisest and most powerful saiken have been attempting to do so for many years, but thus far we cannot.”

  “No, no, no, no...” He paced back and forth. When Reyga paused, Jason looked at him with desperation in his eyes. “Listen to me. I have to get back. I've got a date next Friday with Tracy Jacobson. She’s a cheerleader. No, she’s the cheerleader! My SATs are coming up, and...and my eighteenth birthday is this Tuesday.” He grabbed the front of Reyga’s robe, fixing the old man with a wide-eyed stare. “I can't stay here! I can't!”