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On the Trail, Are We Truly Here VI
Barken, History of the Midlands, Midpoint in the Beginning II The Wanderer’s Story - the Wounded Man, part e No matter, events For so does Life continue Here, and forever. __________________*_______________ With backs to the wall, in this case our own cliffs The Peacekeeper’s small army somehow was victorious Their will, intent, and increased warrior count... was enough. Many were the heroes of those few days. However, it also found our new leader, the Peacekeeper, dead And the little government left? It just fell apart. We, the Midlands, quickly became a no-nation of anything. Our area became known as the Northern Midlands With just little, tiny settlements, left scattered about; The City on The Eagle’s Beak itself… Became empty, a ghost. For there was little to no commerce to be had To promote any kind of economic continuance. After all, who wanted to work in getting to the top of a cliff To find no reason for the climb, but bad memories... And strange spirits, that seemed to be gathering there. The North Midlands were no longer a temptation, or a threat to any… And the resources, what there were... Were soon used up. So all settled down, in the fields and woods West and south of the Eagle’s Beak Leaving it all, as past, into story, and myth. I had joined the fighting with the forces in the South And of course with the Dread now gone As before, we were disbanded. I lived there for awhile, but all was different; Still, it was peace. Then I was offered a secret assignment in the Northwest Which was to contact the undercover spy we had in the Dread ranks; I was to know him through a trading of coins I was given one, and he in turn gave me one back, almost identical.’ The Wanderer pulled a coin out from his pocket. ‘A coin like this…’ He pulled an old, weird, large metal coin out of his pocket And showed it to me. ‘This is what he gave me’, he said. ‘Kind of hate to give it back.’ He laid it on the table between them, and continued. ‘Back to the story… He met the spy, the man himself Well, his name he forgot... And I believe in his wounds and pain, he truly did Though not his strange face. He thought the spy was one of the Ancient of Days. In any event, in the information given I carry the Dread’s future strategic plans... For the final finishing swift invasion Of all lands here, north, south, and further east of here. This time they will have groups of their people chosen To then stay, and begin to populate the areas. They really want the Eagle’s Beak for something else... That information I was not privy to. But it is thought the strange aliens Living among them are involved. He found it quite amazing... these strategic plans Seeing they are planned decades in advance. Know these are not tactical, just the planned future actions That will take place, in many years to come; They do plan far ahead. Of course then a following question... Does anyone know what’s planned after that? Unfortunately on the way back He was surprised, by a small roving group of Dread; And he did manage to kill them all Even the two that followed him through the Gate. And though he suffered greatly... He still remained coherent at the end I remember the words. ‘You have found me…’ he said. ‘Knowing well, my days are ended. So it is up to you, new friend To warn the Midlands in time. Search for a man named Barken He will know what to do. In return, I give you information on two Gates The one I used to get here… And the other… The other to go to a future time, if you so will it.’ Then a last part was said, as he was finally close to passing The wound in his side, being no longer controllable. He raised himself up a bit… And I held him as he said his last words... ‘Yes, another Gate, I speak true... To... a future Time. Take that, leave it No matter to me. Though do at least warn them through Barken As I owe the people at least this much... For the terrible things I have done. As for me... ‘ His demeanor suddenly changed... ‘For some reason… I do not think this part is a dream.’ He sank back down, losing energy As his breathing became troubled. ‘And I will not wake up elsewhere as before’, he quietly added ‘And hopefully those nine ghosts with their weird words Will not bother me. For it’s been like a hell at my door.’ He looked up at me, ‘Good luck my friend ‘Praise be... true, you are that. May you always have a good Gate to choose... Peace be unto you.’ The Sun was sinking down... When, suddenly tightening his hand on my arm His eyes opened wide, alert… Fearful, as he stared focusing, directly it seemed Through my eyes, boring into my very soul… With his final phrase escaping his lips... ‘Tell Me, I was truly... Here!’ . As he then, finally passed Before I could give an answer he could hear. Only a passing whisper could I muster… ‘Rest in peace, friend, here… forever.’ (to be continued)
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