The shadow that deceives watches.
Some journey, dust, sound, they went, they traveled, it was not hot, it rained. They were together and yet in the rain fell shadows not is with the shining armour to rust, to decay, to stifle.
There is a darkness that watches, a mind that sees. The darkness cloaks upon the road to the city of Az, can it know that its dark wall will be breached and broken, the city attained?
The darkness, threatened, is intelligent to it. The darkness can act, impede, thwart, misguide and deceive.
Also, there is a distant star or are stars that watch in silence. They can neither throw rocks nor smooth the rapids. Their weapons, the seeds of invention, the warm winds of encouragement and the airs of facility. Impartial in all but extremis.
These two, neither opposites nor alike, yet ranged in opposition. The one, dark, provocative, and potent. The other, lighted, stands apart and quiet, mourning the fallen and holding the travellers in hope.
All over the place, along the roadside, dust. The city of Az is on the hill, we must come to it. The city is clear, is clean, is greener in the streets. The city is heated by the air and cooled by ice, high on a hill to gather the wind and sun. We must come to it.
Down below, down below, under gradually inherent, integrated, diverse, layered, flexible, many stranded, resilient, respectful, fountain.
By the road, on the road to the City, along the road, travelling along the road, what road, this road, separated, together.
An obstacle, a stand or cliff or a robber, a barrier, many barriers, challenges. In the way, can’t go round, stretching from horizon to horizon, darkness, wall of dark made shadow. Put your hand to it, it sinks in like soft smoke, deathly cold. Sucking light and life away, take the hand away, walk away in pain, retire, retreat, consider.
This cannot be passed, it is entering my mind, do not enter, we must not enter the dark wall or we shall perish. Try again, new hand, cold, colder pain and hurt, numb hand retracted like death life, feeling returning.
Cut it with a sword, for a moment only a slash of lighter remain to be soon closed over the sword, frozen and dropped in pain.
We must pass, we cannot pass, must break, cannot understand. Look closer to see the grey dark grey swirls of smoke like clouds of frozen dust making loose patterns, no patterns, only swirls, whorls, beyond words, only silence.
I will walk into it now.
No, wait! I will consider, sit with closed eyes on the saddled horse, face to the sun, face relaxed and clear of all emotion. Hands holding the reins lightly in gloves most supple. Horse nibbling at the roadside, sitting, back straight, breathing now regular as the rising and setting of the sun, only more often. Ears, head, neck, shoulders, torso, trunk, loins, thighs, legs and feet.
It is the colour of no colour, this wall, it is the smoke of the pyres of fallen warriors, slain for no gain. Of homes put to the torch, towns destroyed. It is cold wind from hearts filled with fear beyond reason.
Make a place for our union, our accord, our respect and regard. We can radiate our loves to combat this.
Joining hands, ridding, reins loose, heels persuading, they joined hands, eyes closed, Vivainne at the left, Constance at the right, the Blue Knight in the centre. They held each other and held each other in their minds with love which radiated from one to the other, coursing.
The Blue Knight glowing from light, from left, from right. Entering the dark wall, shining with warmth in the dusk. Salving, saving.
The smoking wall of dark dispersed into and above the airs until it was away and gone replaced by evening sunlight blowing clear, clear and bright around once more.
The Guardians of the Cave 