FARIDDION

  Jezebel stood silently before the gate of Fariddion, her long light blue dressing gown tied tightly at the waist. “What is this place?” asked Jezebel out loud. It was at that moment she heard a sound to her right, and on looking down saw a black rabbit next to her bare feet. It looked very familiar to her. Slightly behind to her left, she heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. Jezebel turned to see someone else’s bare feet. She looked up to see they belonged to a tall young girl dressed in a sparkling red and gold dress. She had straight long blonde hair and light blue eyes which studied Jezebel with utter confidence. Jezebel thought she looked very relaxed and certainly not ugly.

  “We’re here!” said the young woman, who was only a little older than Jezebel. Or so she seemed. Jezebel made a startled sound of acknowledgement towards her, then knelt down in front of the rabbit.

  Jezebel looked at the pink and orange cotton-wool-like clouds just beyond the rabbit’s ears. She felt those clouds would do little in preventing her falling to the ground so far below, for the ledge they stood upon was no more than the width of a narrow road.

  “Are you sure I’m ready for this, Tibbar?” she asked. Jezebel looked into the black rabbit’s eyes and waited for its reply.

  “Yes,” said Tibbar. But Tibbar didn’t talk through his mouth. Jezebel heard it psychically without the use of her ears. It sounded like a perfectly pitched sweet instrument to Jezebel, and always sounded exactly the same.

  +

  But dear reader, we can’t continue on into the wonders of Fariddion until you are aware of how Jezebel came to be standing here in the first place. So I’ll quickly explain and then we’ll head inside.

  Tibbar the rabbit had first appeared one afternoon in September, lying alongside the garage wall at Jezebel’s family home. Jezebel picked up the toy and hurried off with it to show her parents Brian and Pamela. They assured Jezebel that they had no idea where the toy had come from. Brian even went that afternoon to several neighbours to ask if their children had left it behind. At the end of a long afternoon, no one could tell Brian who it belonged to. So, in the end, Tibbar happily became Jezebel’s property.

  Then it happened one Friday afternoon after school. Jezebel headed upstairs to her room and sat down on the large cream-coloured toy box at the end of her soft pink bed. After removing her shoes and socks, Jezebel tossed several toys left lying around her room into the toy box and went to her en-suite. As she came out she stopped. Scratching and knocking was coming from within the toy box. Jezebel wasn’t scared of much, so inquisitively she walked over and opened the lid, expecting to find her battery-operated dog in motion again.

  A black rabbit hopped out of the toy box and onto the soft blue carpet. Jezebel fell backwards onto her bottom at the shock of seeing this.

  It bounced around several times, then sat still watching Jezebel and twitched its nose.

  “Where did you come from?” asked Jezebel.

  “You found me in the garden, Jezebel,” said Tibbar.

  “You can talk! No, yes!” she stammered. “I heard your voice! In my head! I think? Did you talk?”

  “Yes.”

  “I must be imagining this. Say my name again,” asked Jezebel.

  Jezebel stood waiting defiantly. Nothing happened. A part of Jezebel was disappointed it had only been her imagination. She sat down on the toy box, had a little laugh to herself, and saw that the rabbit was now facing her whiteboard, which hung on the wall next to her bedroom door. Jezebel rubbed her eyes in disbelief as a purple marker floated up by itself and quickly wrote “Jezebel”.

  “Oh my god!” squealed Jezebel, clutching her hands together in fright and amazement. Then Jezebel heard a gentle voice in her head say, “My name is Tibbar.” Again the marker wrote, but this time it wrote, “Tibbar”.

  Ten days later, Tibbar asked Jezebel if she would like to see where he lived. Jezebel accepted. And that night while she slept, Tibbar took Jezebel to Fariddion.

  So that’s how Jezebel came to be standing there in the first place.

  +

  Jezebel stood up and contemplated the gate of Fariddion.

  “Well… if you say so,” said Jezebel, unsure.

  “I do. And it is meant to be,” replied Tibbar.

  “Come. Let us show you our home,” affirmed the young woman, picking Tibbar up and walking forward.

  “Wait!” demanded Jezebel. “We haven’t been introduced yet. My name is Jezebel.”

  “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Jezebel,” she smiled. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time.” She stroked Tibbar’s ears. “My name is Astar,” she explained calmly. “I died when I was seventeen. That was thousands of years ago.”

  “Thousands of years?” gasped Jezebel.

  “Yes, thousands. I come from a time when the lands were together,” explained Astar, raising her head up in content at the sight of Fariddion. “Time is irrelevant in this world, and you need not tell me about yourself. With Tibbar, I have seen many things of your young life.”

  Jezebel was intrigued by the pink and orange bands of thin wispy clouds that bent and twisted about Astar and Tibbar. Jezebel thought the clouds smelt like a type of sweet incense.

  “Alright…” thought Jezebel aloud. “I suppose we can go in now.”

  “Good,” smiled Astar, satisfied and sounding cheerful.

  As they moved forward, Jezebel had failed to notice two enormous owls standing guard either side of the entry gate. Their white bodies blended perfectly into the bright glow of the high intricate walls which peeked out of the clouds. One of the owls turned its head around to look at Jezebel and hooted. She quickly placed her hands over her ears and smartly followed Tibbar and Astar inside. She shivered. She was afraid.

  The gate vanished and a breathtakingly beautiful otherworldly fan-vaulted ceiling rose up three hundred feet above them. A long white marble path stretched ahead through a garden of the most beautiful and exotic flowering plants Jezebel had ever seen. Golden pillars on either side, spaced every fifty feet, held up a dazzling ceiling of radiant light. High up, clouds turned and drifted. Butterflies fluttered along a rainbow’s edge. Swallows chirped and sped away, only to return to spy on Jezebel again.

  “Your mother is knocking on your bedroom door, Jezebel. She is trying to wake you, for your aunt is coming today,” explained Tibbar, held safely within Astar’s arms.

  They kept following the long white marble path.

  “What should we do?” inquired Jezebel, leaning towards Tibbar. She moved her brunette-coloured hair from in front of her face, then folded her arms tightly.

  “Nothing, for perhaps a little while longer,” replied Tibbar. “Time on the living earth has no effect here.”

  “Okay,” said Jezebel, and frowned in a confused way. Such a simple statement sounded very odd.

  Astar sang, “Time doesn’t exist here, like the living earth, like the living earth, like the living earth. Oh…”

  “My my, you have such a beautiful contralto voice, Astar!” exclaimed Jezebel, looking back over her shoulder to make sure nothing was following behind them.

  “Thank you,” said Astar, continuing to sing.

  “Dad tells me lots of musical things,” said Jezebel.

  “Do not be alarmed by the keepers of the gate!” warned Tibbar.

  Jezebel took Astar’s hand as several large faces appeared then disappeared as quickly as they’d come. After a few seconds to process what had happened, Jezebel thought the keepers of the gate looked like warriors.

  “The keepers of the gate have seen no foe,” said Astar. Jezebel felt utterly befuddled by their appearance.

  Astar, Tibbar and Jezebel kept heading along the path. Up ahead Jezebel thought she could see the end. Jezebel had a thought which became a question to Astar.

  “Are there foes?”

  “The Stranded,” replied Astar, in a tone that was noticeably different. “Of those of which I talk of, you will see.”

  Like a balloon, Astar floated up towards the brilliant light above with Tibbar. They turned and floated with the butterflies and she blew the swallows pretend kisses. Then they came back down to settle next to Jezebel to continue along.

  “Gosh… I wish I could do that,” smiled Jezebel.

  “It could be arranged,” said Astar.

  They came up to a transparent screen blocking their way. Jezebel watched as Tibbar and Astar began to move through the clear wall which resembled tracing paper. Jezebel closed her eyes, keeping a firm hold of Astar’s hand, and passed through with them reluctantly.

  What greeted them was a vast encircling array of cloud doors. Floor after floor went as high as one could see. Similar-sized narrow ledges going ever upwards.

  Jezebel now watched a steady stream of people and animals moving about with purpose and pleasure. She studied them fondly, for this world before her young eyes was as alive as anything she had witnessed back home. The inhabitants of Fariddion were all dressed in many different costumes from earth’s history, she thought.

  “Greetings!” boomed a voice in an assertive, questioning tone. Jezebel’s eyes kept looking higher and higher, her mouth open in wonder. At the top of this massive wall of firm cloud was a face of unquestionable force and presence. Its tree-trunk-sized arms opened in welcome.

  “Tibbar… Astar… you did bring her back here,” he said fondly. “You said you might. How interesting,” he laughed. Jezebel shrunk in size but Astar gently held her up.

  “Do not be afraid of me, little Jezebel. I may look very dangerous to you, but I can be as gentle as a… a… rabbit,” he laughed, turning into a house-sized replica of Tibbar.

  “This is Storm,” smiled Astar. “One of our elemental guardians.”

  Jezebel turned to look at Astar. When she turned back, Storm had returned to its unusual yet usual form.

  “Yes, my name is Storm… for obvious reasons. Hmm… we don’t get visitors from the living earth,” it boomed.

  “Everything’s so big here!” suggested Jezebel.

  “I’m not,” said Tibbar.

  “That’s true,” Jezebel agreed.

  “Well, I am very big,” insisted Storm. “But it is my turn to continue a watch on the gate of Fariddion. Well, maybe I’ll stay just a moment longer. I do occasionally go to earth, Jezebel. So it’s quite a possibility you will see me at the head of a storm front in the sky, or reflected in the living earth glass. Say, from a house window, for example. Or a car window. It could be me. Outdoors. One day, I’d say, Jezebel, from the living earth.”

  And with that, Storm slowly vanished into the entrance.

  “We have allotted time for you to go in and explore one shop. There are many shops behind that cloud door over there,” pointed Tibbar.

  “One shop? Okay,” replied Jezebel, flippantly.

  Jezebel was now more unsure than ever that she was indeed awake.

  They made their way across a now shiny black marble floor. Tibbar almost disappeared within its dark colour. Within the black marble floor, Jezebel could make out tiny specks of light moving from left to right, far below.

  Jezebel followed along. She felt slightly like their prisoner. Nevertheless, safe. They continued on to the cloud door. Below, within the marble, Jezebel could see what appeared to be a large group of whales swimming up from below. Their appearance mesmerised Jezebel.

  She stopped as one came alarmingly close. Its enormous pectoral fin came out of the floor like it would the surface of a calm sea, then went back down. Jezebel gasped.

  “That’s a blue whale!” said Jezebel, recovering.

  “Don’t worry. That was Bluey. She was just having a look at you. Come, Jezebel. Come!” encouraged Tibbar.

  And so, in they went, passing through only a narrow veil of cloud.

  Small shops in varying designs stretched out before them. Not like at a modern mall where the only difference is what is sold inside. A master builder had worked on each one. Fine timbers, stained glass, stone. All sorts of round, square, triangular, multi-dimensional dwellings. All the colours of the rainbow. And some colours Jezebel did not know. In fact, no one from the living earth knew of these. Or designs. Each one special. Each one unique.

  As they moved along, the cacophony of sounds was overwhelming Jezebel. Jezebel now also noticed the strange curiosity she had become. People pointed at her, giggling and laughing. Not in a cruel way like earth can be. Just a happy, welcoming way. Jezebel poked her tongue out at some of the laughing adults and pulled funny faces at some of the children. They looked surprised. And as quickly as that, no one paid Jezebel any more attention. Next to Tibbar, a solid-looking man with a red beard was making balloon animals from a horse-drawn cart. They came to life in many colours and took off.

  “There is no money here in Fariddion,” explained Tibbar, being picked up and carried by Astar. Jezebel hurried to catch up to the long-legged stride of Astar.

  “Or sales,” inserted Astar. “Or crime. No bills to pay. Landlords to please. No squabbling here in Fariddion. We have no use for bank managers or politicians, unlike the living earth.” Astar began to sing again.

  “We’ve got everything you need, here in Fariddion…”

  Jezebel smiled at Astar. She decided she liked Astar a lot. And trusted her.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Jezebel now noticed a large pod of orcas just under the black marble surface. One jumped high above the people in the lane and went back down into the black marble floor. As Jezebel stared at the submerging tail, she clumsily bumped into a middle-aged woman holding a tray of scrumptious-looking lemon and raspberry tarts.

  “Oh. I’m sorry,” apologised Jezebel.

  “Think nothing of it. Would you like one, dear?”

  Jezebel observed that the lady was dressed just like her Great Aunt Betsy. Large black hat with red ribbon. Long black coat with silver buttons. And a run of white lace on the bottom of a black dress which touched the ground and hid her shoes.

  “No thanks,” replied Jezebel quietly.

  “Why ever not, girl? Don’t be afraid,” she encouraged. “It’s so soft you can’t even taste it.”

  A large hairy ape-like man pushed past Jezebel, snatched a lemon tart from the woman’s tray, stuffed it into its mouth, then walked away without a care in the world.

  “Don’t mind him, dear,” she chuckled. “He takes one around this time every week!”

  Jezebel checked with Astar and Tibbar. Seeing no objection, and seeing that the scary ape-like man was now far away, she took a red tart from the tray. When she bit into the tart, it remained untouched.

  “One day you will be able to taste it,” said Tibbar. “But you will have a long life.”

  “Whoops,” smiled the well-dressed woman, and watched them move away.

  Astar took the tart from Jezebel’s hand.

  “Too good to waste,” quipped Astar, and ate it in one go. As Jezebel looked up to see Astar swallow it, she noticed a little higher over Astar’s head was a sign that read “The Shop of History”.

  “Can I go in this one?” pointed Jezebel. “Can this be my shop of choice?”

  “If that’s the one you want, Jezebel, enter,” replied Tibbar. “But be warned. What you choose must be considered cautiously. To you Fariddion is magical, but it can also bring immense pain if provoked.”

  “I’ll be fine. Back soon,” smiled Jezebel. Tibbar and Astar watched Jezebel hurry off inside and perched themselves on a seat outside and waited.

  “She won’t like it,” said Astar. “Is this test really necessary?”

  “Yes. She needs to build up her spiritual strength. She will need it for her mission. As you know. It is her choice,” replied Tibbar.

  “Then we’ll leave,” agreed Astar. “We have unwelcome visitors, I hear.”

  “Most alarming,” replied Tibbar.

  “Hello,” came the greeting from an old woman walking cautiously out to stand behind the shop counter. She spoke very slowly. Behind her were many video-like screens, and larger posters and paintings, showing major events of history. A young boy appeared on a large white circle beside the counter holding a milkshake. Jezebel noticed that the milkshake vanished from the boy’s hand.

  “Gee, thanks, Mrs Sheen,” he smiled and ran outside.

  “You’re welcome, JW,” smiled Mrs Sheen.

  “Welcome to the Shop of History. I am your host, Mrs Sheen. Which aspect of history interests you today? Are you interested in milkshakes too?”

  “Hello, I’m Jezebel. I’m not sure exactly, but I am studying history at school at the moment and it is very interesting.”

  “Hmm. Very well. I’m here to gift,” smiled Mrs Sheen.

  “We’re reading about the first man to climb Mount Everest,” explained Jezebel.

  “Edmund Percival Hillary,” replied Mrs Sheen slowly. She pulled off her glasses and began to clean them. “What aspect of the climb do you wish to see?”

  “I’ve already seen lots of old footage of him climbing mountains,” continued Jezebel. “But never reaching the summit of Mount Everest.”

  “So… you would like to see him reach the summit?” asked Mrs Sheen.

  “Yes please. That sounds cool,” smiled Jezebel.

  “Good,” she chuckled. “A very dangerous choice. We’ll have to leave together. However… your request is granted. Shortly, take a step to your left. Yes, onto that large white circle.”

  Unconcerned, Jezebel jumped onto the circle and disappeared.

  “Heavens!” yelped Mrs Sheen. “I’m not ready to leave yet, girl!”

  Jezebel suddenly found herself trying to remain upright on the summit of Mount Everest. She screamed. A fierce icy wind howled all around her, flapping then undoing her dressing gown. She dropped to her knees, for there was hardly any distance between her and falling over the side. It was deathly cold. She could hardly breathe as she struggled to secure her dressing gown with a simple knot. Her shoulder-length hair whipped around her face. Her throat was clamming up due to the intense cold. As she shivered uncontrollably, her indoors dressing gown stiffened in the freezing atmosphere. Watching her hands turn blue, Jezebel was struck by the sudden reality. She would soon freeze to death.

  “Bloody hell!” she coughed. Jezebel leaned down as far as she could to shelter against a powerful gust of wind. The wind relentlessly blew from many directions, causing the belt of her dressing gown to move and snap like a kite’s tail. She held her dressing gown as close as she could manage, seemingly without any benefit. She could not see Mrs Sheen. What she couldn’t help but see, however, was a sky filled with rocky mountain tops covered in snow which rested above the cloud line. She was so high, Jezebel felt like she was in her father’s friend’s jet plane.

  Several minutes passed with only the company of the howling cold wind and her constant fear.

  For a moment the wind stopped and Jezebel smiled. She was on top of the world. It was beautiful. Mrs Sheen would soon arrive or bring her back. She slightly relaxed and stood, but wobbled, before standing so rigidly. But only just. The returning wind a constant fear.

  “I’m ready now, Mrs Sheen!” smiled Jezebel.

  The minutes passed and moments of doubt began to naturally take over Jezebel’s thoughts. A large bank of cloud rolled across the mountain top to hide the sun. Jezebel had never felt so alone. Time ticked away. No one arrived. Loneliness was only relieved by an increasing sense of panic. Jezebel now wondered if she was lost. Was it all just a crazy nightmare? It felt so real.

  “Daddy!” she called silently, hearing his funny laugh. And then her dear sweet Aunt Cathy. Cathy was supposed to be arriving today to babysit her while her parents went away for the night.

  It was at that moment that Aunt Cathy awoke from a terrible dream at her apartment in Tooting Broadway, a village on the outskirts of the City of London. She sat up in her bed. It was just becoming light outside. The image of Jezebel crying alone in the snow had felt alarmingly real to her. Aunt Cathy shook off the thought and slipped out of bed to fix a cup of tea to start the day.

  Jezebel sobbed with self?pity. She wondered why Tibbar would have left her like this. To touch her own face now felt like when your arm falls asleep at night.

  “Oh why did I decide to visit Mount Everest?” she mumbled in her throat. It was too cold to talk. Not to mention that the only sound she could manage to make was a pathetic croak. Her feet hurt. Her hands hurt. Her nose was freezing cold. Again the wind pushed her down.

  Then the cloud cleared and the wind stopped. The sky turned blue and Jezebel was bathed in light again. A light worth raising wilted eyes to, that softly warmed the face. It was approaching midday. Her tears were ice in the sunlight. It was such a commanding and spectacular view in every direction. One thousand miles of rarefied optimism over the vast plains of Tibet. But it just seemed like a death sentence to our adventurous young Miss York now. Nothing in sight. Bare rock and snow equalled nothing.

  She panicked again. Struggled to her feet though there was no need, but only fell, to manage a defeated crawl. The edge drew nearer. Trying again, a sudden push upwards only lasted a few seconds before collapsing back into the snow. Now dizziness took away any sense of balance. Up again. Hands out in front to soften the blow of the fall. She struggled to breathe. Out of energy, and resting on frozen hands in the snow, now a face only miserable glared into the snow. There were no ideas of what to do. Jezebel knew she was done for and fell over onto her back. Slowly her eyes began to close more and more as the wind, ice and snow continued to pester.

  “Top of the world!” said Mrs Sheen.

  Jezebel thought she heard a voice speak. She opened her eyes. To her immense relief there was someone.

  “Mount Everest. Eight thousand eight hundred and forty?eight feet high we are, Jezebel.”

  Jezebel could not answer. She struggled but managed to sit up.

  “There’s half as much oxygen here as at sea level. That’s why it is so hard to breathe, dear,” explained Mrs Sheen, pulling Jezebel to her feet.

  From a pocket on her long yellow robe, the old lady placed her black glasses on. A tiny bit of energy returned to Jezebel’s legs. There was now hope it would soon end.

  “Cold… isn’t it, Jezebel?” Mrs Sheen looked surprised at Jezebel and pulled her into her side, rubbing her shoulder.

  “I told you it was a dangerous choice, little lady.” Jezebel huddled into the old woman’s warm side, still quietly sobbing. Her legs wobbling.

  “Anyway, we’ll head back soon enough. Not a place I would have chosen to visit in my time on the living earth.”

  Jezebel’s teeth began to chatter constantly as Mrs Sheen prolonged her educational chat.

  “It is minus twenty?two degrees Celsius at the moment. Twice as cold when the wind howls.”

  Jezebel tried to talk again and again. Not a word would come out as the wind howled.

  “The calendar year is nineteen fifty?three. It’s the 29th of May. It’s warm here now,” explained Mrs Sheen, holding her hat.

  Jezebel’s eyes widened because of the ridiculous yet truthful statement. The old woman placed her arm around Jezebel as an incredibly strong gust of snow and icy wind coated her skin in a harsher layer of sickness. Pajamas and a dressing gown felt like cold cardboard. Not that she had much ability to feel anything with numb, painful bare hands and feet.

  “It’s warmer too, for it’s approaching eleven?thirty in the morning. And they’ll soon make summit.”

  Jezebel would not move now. She would stay like this until Mrs Sheen was ready to take her back. Her feet were now numb. The old woman continued to talk as the winds died down again.

  “As you can see, Sherpa Tenzing Norgay and Edmund Hillary are approaching the summit. See?”

  Jezebel could barely open her eyes, but could move them enough to see the two climbers approaching only a short distance away, on a ridge that would lead them to conquer Everest.

  “What fine climbers they are. Most worthy of any monarch’s bestowed knighthood… Hmm? What are you trying to say, girl?” Mrs Sheen bent down to hear Jezebel’s whispered plea.

  “Please… take me back,” she croaked.

  “Oh very well,” complained Mrs Sheen. “I always miss them reaching the top for some reason.”

  The old woman walked Jezebel towards the edge with surprising strength. Jezebel cared little as they stepped off the edge together and walked across strands of orange wispy cloud. Slowly the snowy mountain ranges disappeared as they emerged back into the safety of the Shop of History and onto the large white circle. Jezebel screamed in pain. Several people stopped and looked in at this most unusual occurrence. Some new arrivals to Fariddion looked confused. Sad memories of the living earth too recent to endure, their guides forced to take them away. Jezebel stared in horror at her condition. She felt her lips. They were cracked and hideously dry and split. She shivered uncontrollably. Then a force gripped her body. Quickly the ice and snow began to disappear and the skin on her hands and feet, which was moments ago dark blue and purple, now almost instantly appeared pale. Jezebel collapsed onto the circle.

  Jezebel gradually woke to find herself resting in the prettiest field of small pink flowers she had ever seen. Seeds floated past her face in the warm air. She accepted her favourite vanilla ice?cream cone, with strawberries of course, from a young handsome boy of a similar age. They shared a sweet smile. His face was clear to see, while his hair was brilliantly lit around the edges by a soft warm sun behind him. Jezebel buzzed with happiness. Tingled with comfort. Then realised she had not left the large white circle from the Shop of History.

  “I haven’t had to do that for a long time,” explained Mrs Sheen. “Sorry. I do hope your pain is now over, sweet girl. I very rarely receive visitors from the living earth.” The onlookers viewed this all with understanding before moving on.

  “I feel fabulous,” sighed Jezebel. She felt her smooth lips. Her hands were supple and clean again. Once sodden icy matted dark hair, now soft and bouncy. Jezebel stepped off the circle, turned about, waved politely to Mrs Sheen and ran for the door.

  Astar stood up holding Tibbar as Jezebel reached them. Jezebel burst into tears.

  “I thought I was going to die!” wailed Jezebel.

  “Well, it was your choice, Jezebel,” replied Astar, showing a little concern. “We are both sorry.”

  “Fariddion is not like Earth, Jezebel. You did hear me warn you to be careful of what you decide and wish.”

  “That was too cruel a lesson,” grumbled Jezebel darkly. She wiped her eyes and shivered. “Please don’t do that again,” she asked.

  “We won’t if you won’t,” smiled Astar.

  Jezebel turned around and pointed at the shop in anger.

  “She took her old sweet time bringing me back!” scoffed Jezebel, with intensity for the old woman. Jezebel turned and walked off.

  “Oh Jezebel!” called out Mrs Sheen, standing in the entrance to the Shop of History. “To be considered the first person to conquer Everest, you have to climb it from the bottom to the top and then back down again,” she advised. “And next time, don’t jump onto the large white circle until I’m ready. Everyone knows that.”

  Jezebel felt overwhelmed. Mrs Sheen smiled to herself and went back inside.

  Astar stepped in front of Jezebel, still carrying Tibbar, and sent some comforting energy into her.

  “Are all the shops capable of… of such… such…” stammered Jezebel, continuing to check her light?blue dressing gown for any signs of snow and ice.

  “Yes,” said Tibbar. “Gifts are granted here constantly. Though because you are not prepared for this place, it was very real for you. Say the wrong thing and you could end up anywhere, forever. A gift of oblivion.”

  “Watch what the heck I say to any shopkeepers. Check!” replied Jezebel. “Next time I think I’ll choose the history of chocolate.”

  “Or milkshakes,” suggested Astar happily. “That is one of my favourites.”

  “Jezebel,” announced Tibbar. “In ten seconds there will be a commotion. We will materialise back within the entrance gate. Be ready.”

  “It is time for you to meet the Stranded,” explained Astar sympathetically.

  Jezebel looked at Astar with a sense of foreboding. In a split second she was still looking at Astar, but now they stood where Jezebel had first been introduced to Storm. And Storm was there, rumbling with fury. The sound shook Jezebel to her core.

  “The Guardian Owls have destroyed many of the Stranded, but they’re still getting in,” thundered Storm. “The keepers of the gate are smashing hundreds of them… They’re through!”

  Storm spread out his arms behind the tracing?paper?like veil. Jezebel looked on with fearful anticipation before running away. Astar had to catch her and hold her within her arms in case she ran through another cloud door.

  Storm was joined suddenly by several other colossal beings of the same size. There was one called Fire. One called Water. One called Earth. Their bodies burned, gushed and slid in continuous motion as they roared for battle.

  The Stranded snapped through the tracing?paper?like force field one by one and were immediately set upon. They were roasted, drowned, crushed and pulled apart. But unlike the guardians of Fariddion, Jezebel saw that the Stranded looked like people. Their faces looked mean and crazed. And a terrible smell accompanied their appearance. Jezebel had to place her fingers over her nose. They wore black robes with slashed symbols of grey and threw cold blue energy balls and sticks of fire. Astar raised her hand and stopped a blue ball dead in its tracks. It fizzled out.

  Then several of the Stranded’s black orbs manoeuvred around Fire and Water. Storm gave chase. He turned into a tornado and all but two of the orbs spun around Storm to be crushed within. This turned Storm a greyish black. Two of the Stranded and two orbs escaped and headed towards a cloud door.

  “Look, Bluey!” shouted Water, pointing towards the Stranded who were escaping.

  Jezebel watched in awe at the spectacular sight of a blue whale emerging from below to capture the escaping Stranded and orbs in one huge mouthful. Then, slowly, its gigantic body lurched to the side and sank back below the surface without a ripple.

  The noise of the battle was horrific to Jezebel. She buried her face into Astar’s side. She could watch on no longer. Storm, Fire, Water and Earth stood side by side and began to force their retreat back to the Gate of Fariddion.

  Gamaden the Golden Wizard arrived with several apprentices all in golden hooded coats. But they were no longer needed. It was over. The sound of the Guardians expelling the Stranded from Fariddion was a distant victory to Jezebel’s ears.

  “Forgive me,” said Gamaden, the Golden Wizard. “Juggling too many apprentices in entrance?level combat trials is a job for a clown. An impossible task. Damn you, Sycast,” he bitterly sneered. His closest apprentice, Sycast, bowed his head in disgrace.

  “Quick, follow me!” said Gamaden. Gamaden and his apprentices headed off to the entrance to see if they were needed.

  As Jezebel looked up, she noticed someone had jumped off a ledge high above. As the tiny yellow dot drew closer, Jezebel saw it was an angel in a long yellow robe. She landed beside Jezebel. She had dark eyes, dark skin and curly hair.

  “Certainly no surprise in victory,” she said to Storm, as the four guardian beings returned one by one.

  “Teamwork makes dream?work!” advised Astar.

  “Who’s that?” whispered Jezebel to Astar, looking at the yellow angel.

  “That’s Bootum,” smiled Astar.

  “On the contrary,” replied Fire, its voice seething and dry. “Somehow I felt there was a resistance to my temperature I had not experienced since the last battle so long ago.”

  “Agreed,” gurgled Water. “I needed to increase pressure when drowning them. Baffling.”

  “I too needed to increase my pounds per square inch to levels far more than is usually necessary,” explained Earth in tectonic, jarring speech.

  “I am injured,” announced Storm. Everyone turned and looked at Storm in alarm. “The black smoke released in me was some kind of poisonous gas. I will travel to Earth to cleanse myself. It may take some days. This ratio of damage is most alarming to me.” Storm coughed violently and left.

  “I will stand ready for your return,” gurgled Water.

  “Where will he go?” inquired Jezebel, walking back closer to the entrance hall.

  “To find a cyclone,” explained a large tortoise. It looked very old and wrinkly to Jezebel. It meandered over towards her. It spoke slowly. It didn’t smell unpleasant at all, unlike the Stranded. It had a sweet pungent smell.

  “My distant cousins from the Galápagos Islands tell me there is a suitable cyclone off the coast currently.” The large tortoise plodded right up to be only a few inches away from Jezebel’s face. Its eyes looked directly into hers. Jezebel pretended not to be concerned. Its scissor?like beak was too close for her liking.

  “The girl of the living earth, I see,” said the tortoise.

  “Will Storm be alright?” asked Jezebel with genuine concern.

  “Yes. I believe so,” answered the tortoise. “I am Rubbuz. I’ve never communicated with anyone from the living earth before.”

  “I am Jezebel.”

  “Hello, Jezebel. Hmm.” Rubbuz made a deep guttural noise.

  “Who are the Stranded?” asked Jezebel.

  “Their residual conscience resides in a constant state of uncontrollable violence,” explained Bootum. “A sad and harmful energy. A state of mind that is unwilling or unable to be let go of. Such perception is no longer welcome in Fariddion.”

  “Were they ever welcome?” asked Jezebel.

  “Oh yes, Jezebel,” informed Tibbar, jumping down from Astar’s arms.

  Tibbar quickly hopped over Jezebel and leapt up onto Rubbuz’s giant shell. Rubbuz turned his head slightly to look up at Tibbar.

  “In our distant past, all were welcome to Fariddion,” continued Tibbar. “Then one day one man called Harden proclaimed himself as ruler of Fariddion. He and his followers grew stronger and acted more and more controlling to the masses.”

  “Eventually they began to punish Fariddions,” added Bootum. “This was a crossroads that many of us had foreseen.”

  “It was an alliance between the people and the animals,” explained a man of American Indian appearance called Stone. “No sovereign rules this realm. The birth of Fariddion is held together by all and protected by the elemental Guardians. Their memories are eternal. They insisted that we can never ever again allow those with Stranded souls to enter here. It was, and now is, no more,” explained Stone.

  “Since that agreement, those who enter Fariddion are guided in by light below. It’s our natural selection,” gurgled the Water guardian.

  “As you can see, those lights passing below under your feet are leaving Earth and coming here,” pointed Stone. He knelt down to watch. “They enter through particular areas within Fariddion. But not at this entry point. I must check on the owls now.”

  Water headed towards the gate with Stone. His massive weight sloshed and stamped with the pressure of a high waterfall.

  Stone and Water came out of the Gate of Fariddion to see the Owls flying high above. Water looked to the sky. One Owl flew low and smashed through Water. Water laughed as the Guardian Owl squawked with delight after having a wash.

  “Is this heaven?” asked Jezebel.

  “No,” replied Rubbuz. “Yet there are other places called many names. There are things even we do not know so far. Perhaps there is. That will be for you alone to find out.”

  “Wait a minute,” pondered Jezebel. “Why are you telling me all this? There must be a reason why you brought me here, Tibbar? Astar? What little good could I do?”

  They all continued to look at Jezebel fondly.

  “All will be explained to you soon enough. We are late to return. We must leave now,” said Tibbar.

  “Wait! Just like that, Tibbar?” complained Jezebel.