Signs and portents
Kjarri's dream with Siem
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During the conversation with Siem, as everyone is around you and speaking of their desire to see the kuzdun put to rest rather than destroyed, Siem steps out of himself and draws you away from the group.
Glancing over your shoulder, you see that Siem is still talking to the
group, and you are still standing there; arguing your point.
“Your heart is clouded. There is trouble brewing here. What ou want is at hand, but you are reluctant.” Siem stops and estures out into the trees. “What do you see?”
Kjarri squinted into the trees. The dim firelight behind him flared and spat, and images appeared… “I see a path, cutting through a field… no, it’s two fields, and the path is the border.” As he spoke, even as he looked into the trees, he was in the vision and seeing himself at the same time. With the tranquil serenity of the dreamer who does not
notice his own dream, he kept on describing the scene to the God of Dreams even as he was living it. “On one side is a field of wheat,
colored red. The peasants are at work, with their sickles, bringing in the harvest. The blades…” He paused, frowning. The sickle blades were dripping with blood as they swept up and down. “They see me as I walk by. They look at me… as if I were a stranger. They stop their work.
They do not talk.” He paused again, then continued.
“On the other side is a field of white flowers. Pretty things… I don’t know what they are. But they sing. It’s very nice. I don’t understand the words, but it sounds like a children’s song. There’s no-one in the
field of white, no-one but the song.”
Kjarri narrowed his eyes. “I’m walking uphill, through the field of red and white. The road is getting harder, more rocky. The peasants in the red and the flowers in the white are falling behind. I’m trying to see
Siem keeps pace with Kjarri, and while he is walking, Siem’s feet never quite seem to touch the ground. When you turn to look, Siem’s hind foot is just touching the soil, but Kjarri never quite seems to catch Siem taking a step.
He looks over the fields Kjarri describes and is unfazed as the trees become fields, the bushes farmers, and the colors change from verdant green to deep browns and flowing red. The farmers in the field of red do not notice him or acknowledge him in anyway. Their gaze rests on you,
their heads turning slowly as you pass, their work momentarily forgotten.
The field of white seems to move under his vision, the flowers bending to a subtle wind that follows his gaze. The song does not alter from the motion, rather new voices join the chorus.
“Follow the border and lead a life always between two realities. Step into the field of red and see the terrible, the violent, and the future.
Step into the field of white and see the force that abides, the peace, and the past. The choice is yours.”
As he speaks, he slowly fades from your view. “What you see is not a conversation. What you seek is not here. This clarity is all that I can offer.”
“My choice?” Kjarri turned to face the god, who was fading, turning as evanescent as morning mist. He was back in the clearing, the uphill road no longer under his feet. “The choice has already been given. The goddess already made that clear years ago. I am a knight of Larani. I protect the peasants, I am the force of justice. I am with them, but not
of them. Mine is the truths of the cutting edge, protecting and dividing as needed. That is clear.”
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