Written By Ged Maybury 

Illustrations by Miso

"You know the dream: we all have it. You are dreaming, right, then gradually, suddenly, - I dunno how it happens- but boom,
you’re there, you’re in The Dream…"

TWO

You arrive
in a place you have
never seen before and stand gazing at
the landscape. There are no mountains or trees, just a lot
of little hump-backed hills carpeted in thick grass. The sky is bright, neither blue nor cloudy, and there is no sun. It is difficult to judge distances. But it is pleasantly warm.

Now you notice a kind of a trail in the grass, beginning at your feet and meandering away between the hills. And beside the path, only a few dozen paces ahead, is a little building; - like a road-side stall. And standing beside the hut is an old woman. Her sudden appearance does not surprised you. You walk towards her, noticing how she waits with calm confidence. Her age is unguessable. And you know that she is THE PROVIDER.

Now here is a curious thing! - You know who she is but you do not really know anything about yourself. Sure, you can think, yet your mind seems curiously empty of memories. All you know is that this is the beginning of the JOURNEY, you are at the beginning of the PATH, and THE PROVIDER is about to ask you two questions.

"What do you need for your Journey?" she asks at that moment.

The rhythms and syllables of her utterance seem to echo like a kind of music in your empty mind. It is the first thing you have heard since… since what? Since when?

An uneasiness stirs deep within. There was something, some other time, yet try as you might you cannot recall a single detail. And yet it only seems like moments ago!

"What do you need for your Journey?" she asks again. This time the words make sense, yet your mind still feels blank. You feel the panic grow slightly larger. How can you answer? You do not know the purpose of the Journey, nor the Dangers, nor the Distance. You know nothing! How can you answer!

So you turn in confusion to inspect yourself, perhaps to see some clue as to what you already have, and discover that you have nothing more than a human body, and it is quite new to you! And what a body! It is young, strong, and unmarked. There is no stiffness, no pains, no itching and no hunger. You raise your arm and rotate your hand in front of your eyes, marveling at its newness and perfection.

"Amazing," you murmur, "Absolutely amazing! What a gift!" Then something nudges in from another part of your mind. You are naked before an old woman! You will need clothes, and quickly!

"Very well," she says, "Please describe the clothes you want."

At once an image springs into your mind: tall leather boots with soles edged in black hand-forged steel, light leather leggings with armoured thigh pads, a thick jerkin under a steel breastplate, shoulder and backplates too, a jewelled headband bearing the Rune Of Power, a broad belt, golden wristbands, and a single glove for the sword-hand.

"Anything else?" asks the Provider.

"But I have not chosen my clothes yet!" you protest, waving a hand to indicate your still-naked body, and you catch a glimpse of the golden bracelet on your wrist.

You hear a sharp intake of breath. It is your own.

Fear stirs in you innards. What sort of power could do such a thing! And why did you chose these clothes? Even more puzzling: what were those other clothes that also sprang to mind close behind the first image: - ‘running shoes’ ‘blue jeans’ ‘T-shirt’ ‘denim jacket’? A memory scuttles across your mind, too fast to be captured. Your guts stir again and you shiver in the morning chill.

The old woman still waits before you and now you raise your eyes to study her more fully. There is little to learn. Her face reveals nothing, even though her eyes hint at some vast deep secret.

So you examine yourself again for some sort of clue. There are clues enough for your questing mind. Your breastplate is in the shape of a spread-winged eagle, with bright yellow gems for its eyes. There are strange Runes embossed into your belt and others on your wrist bands, and your single glove has a curious pattern of black and gold stitching across its back. None of it means anything, but you sense the answers are lurking somewhere within your failed memories.

Have you just been tricked, or have you in fact just managed to trick the trickster?

"Anything else?" repeats the Provider who has been waiting patiently all this time. It is the Second Question. You raise your eyes. She is gesturing to the verandah or porch of her little hut. Previously it had been empty. Now it is full!

What a remarkable collection: - cutlery, tools, musical instruments, electronic calculators, ploughs, typewriters, walking sticks, an anvil, rope, pens, weapons ancient and modern, several kinds of bicycle, optical instruments, a gas stove, money of all kinds, C.D. players, books, .. in fact the longer you look the more there seems to be, almost as if the stuff is being created just at the edge of your vision…

You turn your head quickly about. There is nothing and no-one behind you, just the grassy hills. You turn again to the Provider’s horde. There have been some more arrivals; a sewing machine, a stuffed toy, a set of golf clubs.., then a strange feeling comes over you: - you know in advance what is going to appear next!

You think of a bottle and one appears, a Zulu shield and one appears, a computer and one appears, and all the while you are feeling around for the mysterious presence that is doing this trick to you. Now!

You spin around.

Nothing; just the low green hills, the featureless sky, and the ocean. Nothing new, and no mysterious Wizard or God. Idly you turn back to the hut, then spin about again the other way. Still nothing, just the cold deserted beach and the wheeling seagulls above the cliffs.

A beachball has appeared in the clutter now, closely followed by a bucket-and-spade, a towel and a dozen of beer. How about a barbeque? There! Oh yes, very funny… Now! For the third time you spin around, but this magician cannot be fooled. All you see is the bright orange glare of the new sun, sitting neatly on the horizon.

New sun…?

"What else?" the old woman reminds you, her voice cutting through your thoughts, and cutting off your obsessive pursuit of the mystery god. And her voice has the bite of urgency now. The sun is up. You will have to hurry!

You get on with the Choosing. - The rifle? No, what about ammunition supplies later on? - Ditto for anything battery-powered. The mountain bike? But what about punctures? - Money? But what kind, and does one use money here anyway? …

And so on.

Finally you narrow your options to three things, the waterproof matches, the pocket knife or the length of climbing rope.

Then you see an item you had previously missed. It is a sword. It had been there some time, standing in its scabbard amongst the sporting goods. Without thinking you take it up to look more closely. You turn it over, marvelling at the fine silver inlays in the black leather scabbard. The handle fits your hand. You give it a tug. The blade slides out with a cold steel ringing, the note rising half an octave before you reluctantly stop.

It is truly beautiful.

For one thrilling moment you imagine yourself snatching out the full blade, swinging the singing steel about you head, and cleaving the old crone’s wrinkled head from her shoulders. It would go rolling, rolling, and her entire horde would be yours! Yes! Yes!

NO!

The mists of your fantasy clear and with relief you see that she still stands patiently beside you, small and calm and wise and sad.

You recoil from the madness that had seized you, and the sword suddenly feels heavy in your hands. You turn to put it back in its place amongst the other things, and discover that they have all gone. The porch is bare again.

"You have chosen," she says, "Go now, and meet the destiny you have ordained." You try to protest, but as you glance from the empty porch to her and back again, the stall vanishes. You start to protest, "But…"

"Go now, and meet the destiny you have ordained." she repeats. You feel angry, and hurt, and frightened. "Go," she repeats for the third time, then adds softly, with a kindness that lingers, "and God be with you."

You glance towards the hills, towards the way you know
you must go, and in that microsecond of inattention
she silently takes her leave. Now there is
only you, and the hills ahead,
and The Path.