Chapter 4: Loridan

Come, mortal, into the fields of Loridan. If you come in truth you will never willingly leave. For when the winds of this land touch you, your heart leaps. Stand, friend, and feel the breezes of forever blow across these fields.

Listen to these trees, dear reader! If you will refuse to come here, how shall you understand the Lutetrees of Loridan? Come then, for the wind continually touches their strings, and their sound is like the dreams of young children - sweet with promise. The trees of its forests sing together, casting up their anthem in the air, and clapping their hands.

Here is a grove of bellflowers. Come very close to them. You will hear music that will break your heart. Will you listen? It is like a vision of clouds drifting against an azure sky. Lie upon this grass; there is no cause to hurry. Hear as it mingles its fragrant counterpoint with the melody of the trees. It is the symphony of Loridan, in which all things have their part. Breathe the air of this country. Let its life fill your lungs, until your heart understands. Yes, until it joins and sings its own note.

Lie here and contemplate that sky. Will you describe it, dear reader, in all its rich glory? You see its horizon is red, and that its bands of light build their glorious way through a shimmering rainbow. But what are those colours as you approach the zenith? To call them colours seems almost profane. They are all to which silver aspired; they are the very ambition of gold. Look away. You cannot look long at things that have no name, or you will forget who you are. Perhaps, rather, you will remember for the first time.

But if you mean to return from this country, friend, do not go near those blood red flowers. Those, near that delicate archway. Yes, those flowers shaped by a heart. One cannot speak of their seed; it is so holy. They lie at the base of the hill for which all men must give thanks. If a mortal should touch those flowers, dear companion, he would lie down and never rise mortal again. Touch them not, if you would keep your life. Instead, look up, for that man stepping through the portal, he is known to us. His stature, his silver armour and his blue mantle announce him.

~ ~ ~

On the instant Taril Tal Lojan stepped through the Portal of Light into the fields of Loridan, his weariness dropped away from him like a blanket. Even his garments were renewed. (The air of Loridan is very hard on weariness.) Sky-born jumped through the portal, playfully snorted in his Master's face, then galloped head?long toward the river, that river for which all thirst. He leapt in without hesitation. As he gazed after Sky, Taril thought to himself, what a beautiful thing home is! He stood for a moment, letting the music of the trees speak to his spirit.

Bending down he picked up one of the sweet red flowers and inhaled deeply. Oh that fragrance! sweeping aside every tired, mean or wicked memory. Then smiling joyfully he began to walk up the hill, away from the graceful stone arch of the portal.

As he climbed, he heard the happy yells of children and saw the children themselves rushing across the fields. They had caught sight of him and were running at an alarming speed toward him. "Taril! Taril! Taril!" their voices rang out like musical bells, clear and pure as the water of that beautiful land.

Now, it is a law of Loridan that no child can ever be ignored, and the laws of Loridan sing joyfully in Taril's heart, as they do through all of the forests, hills and valleys of Loridan. These laws are in the very music of the trees. Down he got upon one knee and held his arms out toward the racing children. Oh, such wild children! They knocked him flat on his back, and there he lay laughing while they danced about him cheering, dancing and singing. Up jumped the knight and joined the dance, as spirited as any of the children, singing with them. Such songs they sang as would make a lame man dance. When at last they finished dancing and singing the eldest of the children spoke:

"It is so good to see you, Taril!"

"It must be good, John. If not, you are wonderful actors."

The laughter of the children rang out, blending their happy note with the ever-present symphony.

"Please come swimming with us, Taril. Please."

"Not now, John. I am needed on the Hill of Portals. The other knights will be here presently."

"Meda! Is she coming!" screamed out a little dark-skinned princess with eyes like polished gems and a smile that the sun would rise to look at. Taril smiled down at Jenna.

"Yes, Meda will be there."

"Oh, Taril, may we come? May we come?" the children chorused.

"No, small ones, it is a solemn council, but I will come to you after I am done. Perhaps the others will come as well."

"Hurray! Yes!" a number of children yelled.

"But can you swim with us later?" asked John.

"Yes, In fact, Sky-born is in the river now, or he was a minute ago."

"Can we play with Sky? Can we?"

"Of course."

Amidst screams of 'Thank you!' 'Sky!' and 'Hurray!' the children raced across the hill toward the river and Sky-born. But one small fellow, who didn't stand much above Taril's knee, ran quickly back and hugged the knight's leg.

"I 'uv you, Talil," said the tiny creature.

"I love you to, Hector," Taril smiled.

The boy then turned and began running, with great energy and the strange, endearing gait of a very young child. However, he was still looking back and waving at Taril, as he ran, so, of course, he promptly fell hard over a stone. Yet he bounced up squealing with laughter - as if some wonderful joke had been made - and then continued to run. For it is a law of Loridan that no child shall ever be hurt within its borders.

Taril began again to go up the Hill of Four Portals. It rose gracefully, evenly and smoothly to its rounded summit. It would not have been a difficult climb in any world, but in this world and on this hill the climb was always pure joy to his heart, for he knew that this was the hill where redemption had been made, before the foundation of all worlds. As he neared the crest, some half-a-mile from the base, he could see all the countryside of Loridan spread out beneath him. He stood by the Rune Stone, the Place of Great Wonders, and let his eye travel joyfully over his surroundings. Like the delicious fragrance that is joy, the music of the Lute-trees floated up to Taril on the winds.

To the south there were acres of rolling green fields, which faded into the Beaches of Adar, which in turn lined the Sea of Peace. Beyond that sea are the Mountains of Wisdom, where all oracles are known.

To the west is the Forest of the Singing Trees, the play place of the King's Jewels - some of whom had so rudely and happily accosted Taril during his climb. From this forest there occasionally cascaded upwards into the sky, flocks of birds, beautiful as maidens with banners.

Toward the northwest and north there were great fields of golden grain, interspersed with forests of brilliant green trees and meadows of dazzling multi-coloured flowers. Taril lovingly eyed the river that ran through the middle of these forests and fields, for this was the Crystal River that issued from beneath the throne of his King. It ran to the very foot of this hill, where it turned at the Northern Portal and continued along the base of the hill to the Western Portal. There it turned again, to flow west and later south to the sea. To the east the fields continued as far as the eye could see, but in the High North, on the distant horizon, rose purple mountains of unparalleled beauty and joy, for on their sides is the City of the Great King; on their summits are the many-spired High Banqueting Chambers. There Joy Redeemer, bless His name forever, has at all times met his children with feast and celebration; there Taril had feasted with the Great King, in the House of Many Mansions.

In each direction, at the base of the hill was a Portal of Light, each framed by a wind-carved stone arch. These were the passageways to the low worlds. No evil or unclean thing could pass through them into Loridan.

Taril _

's eyes were watching the Eastern Portal as a beautiful and powerful woman, followed by a glorious white steed, came through the gate. She, like Taril, was outfitted in gleaming armour. The sole difference in the equipage of the two warriors was the colour of their capes: Taril's being sky-blue, Meda's blood red, for indeed it was Meda. She smiled and waved and began her ascent, but did not get far before little Jenna, who had apparently been lying in wait for her behind the portal, tackled the knight from behind. Taril broke into laughter watching Meda pretend to be helpless and go down rolling on the ground. Meda and Jenna got up laughing; then Meda took one of the small red flowers and wove it into Jenna's hair. Clasping hands they began walking up the hill, as Callais - Meda's horse - started grazing quietly in the meadow beyond the portal. Taril could see that Jenna was not going to be denied a part in this council, be it ever so high or solemn.

As the knight and her tiny adorer made their way up the slope, Taril's eye was caught by a flash of light from the southern side of the hill. It was Jaffar Redeemer, so named by Joy himself for his unhesitating willingness to lay his life down for other worlds. By his side was Tagar his powerful war-horse. Taril loved and admired this brother very greatly; long had they fought side-by-side many battles, in many worlds. They exchanged distant greetings, shouting almost in unison, 'The King of Peace!' At the sound of the words, the winds of the south sprung up around Jaffar, the golden warrior of peace. His golden cape and ebony hair seemed to ride upon that wind as he strode up the hill.

From where he stood Taril could watch both of his dear companions - and tiny Jenna - making their separate ways up the hill. They could not see each other, but at the sound of her brothers' greetings, Meda broke into song. Her voice was haunting, clear and powerful; she had a strange gift for blending her voice with the Symphony of Loridan, so that she seemed to be creating the tune herself. Several birds, of glorious colour and shape, rushed out of the Forest of Singing Trees and raced across the hill toward her. How beautifully they sang. Jenna dropped the knight's hand and clapped her hands for joy. Soon Jaffar and Taril began to harmonise and the whole hill rang with their music.

How Great, how Marvellous is his Peace,

A world of Joy unbounded;

His Love has made all wars to cease,

Before all worlds were founded.

Come, Brothers, hurl before his throne,

All crowns, all songs, all honour,

His blood has made our hearts his own;

Come adore AND wonder.

Soon the three knights were together at the crown of the hill; they embraced and made an appropriate fuss over Jenna.

Now while they were greeting each other, a fourth knight came over the lip of the hill. One look at him made the other knights, noble though they were, seem almost commonplace. For there was that imprint in his features which quite took one's breath away. It was not merely that he was grave and kind, or that he seemed to radiate peace. Rather, it was the uncanny likeness that he bore to his Master. Such is the privilege of those who have stood frequently in the very place of the Redeemer. He was majestic in his bearing, with hair and beard pure milk-white; his mantle and eyes were of the same anomalous colour as the sky's zenith.

Sensing his mentor's presence before he saw him, Taril wheeled around, and called in happy greeting:

"Melchizedek! Well met and hail First Knight of the Order!"

"Well met, Taril, Jaffar and Meda. And who is that hiding behind your cloak, Meda?"

Before Meda could do more than open her mouth, Jenna leapt out and ran to the great knight, yelling at the top of her lungs, "It's me!" So saying she nearly flew to his arms.

"Well, so it is!" said the knight scooping her up in his hands and holding her aloft like a very tiny doll. "And how is the smallest and prettiest of the prophets doing, hum?" he said, as he returned her to earth where - arguably - she belonged.

"I'm doing very well, Melchizedek. In fact, I think I was right again!" She said with a pleased smile.

"Oh, were you? Well, that doesn't greatly surprise me, Jenna. And what, exactly, were you right about?"

Jenna grabbed Meda's hand again as she explained, "Taril has completed Quest. Meda said that the King isn't in the East. And Jaffar told me he isn't in the South..."

"Whoa, I said what? I haven't even mentioned anything about the Quest."

Jenna giggled, "You didn't need to, Jaffar Redeemer. Your face told me as soon as I saw you."

"How's that?" asked the puzzled knight.

"Well, anytime you've completed Quest before your eyes have this kind of look to them. It's like this." Jenna set her small face in a successful imitation of Jaffar's victory expression. When worn on his countenance it looked like severe joy. On Jenna it looked more like she had just swallowed a sparrow.

Taril and Meda immediately laughed, and even Melchizedek smiled.

"She's right, Jaffar," said Meda, "I'd never noticed, but you do wear that expression after Quest."

Jaffar cleared his throat and frowned at the small maiden, "Well, there's no need to tell you what's on my mind. From now on I'll only ask!"

Jenna giggled again, stood on one foot, leaned forward and spun from Meda's hand.

"And what of me, Jenna?" interposed Melchizedek, "Why do you think I have not found the King?"

Jenna completed her twirl and sat down on Meda's feet leaning back against that knight's legs. "Well, that's why I said I think I'm right again. Did you, Sir?"

Melchizedek sat down on the north side of the Rune Stone and shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"Yeah!" hooted Jenna, "Praise Joy. I was right again!"

"Now wait a minute, my small princess," put in Taril, "I think I see where you're going. I hate to disappoint you, but I haven't found the king either."

The lights suddenly went off in Jenna's face. "What! But I saw you find him. I saw you!"

Melchizedek raised his hand and all four faces turned toward him. "Come, let us sit and speak of the Quest. For a prayer counsel awaits us and we must prepare our minds to - in some slight measure - keep pace with the Spirit."

Jaffar took his place to the east of the Stone, "Are we sure there's a king to be found? The eastern lands are incredibly corrupt. I didn't get even the faintest glow in my sword hilt, and I wandered - and fought - for twenty-one days. Not a trace."

Meda sat behind Jenna, putting one arm around the small black prophetess, and stroking her hair. Jenna, looking very puzzled, leaned back against the gentle knight. "And the south is also without a trace. I found not the slightest hint." Meda spoke softly, "I don't remember a world so desperate, not in all my travels. The people of the south, well, really they aren't people at all. They're shadows. They live in despair."

"I agree. The eastern lands are filled with creatures that have made for themselves different faces. They paint themselves and are war-like; I could hardly see the Image in them at all. They have mingled their seed with animals," Jaffar added. "They are so demonised that they manifest the fact in their bodies. They have corrupted their way to a terrible extent. They are filled with things that I will not talk about"

Melchizedek looked from Jaffar to Taril, "What are the peoples of the western world like, Taril?"

"Hard pressed, Melchizedek. I have found true faith among them. But the peoples of the east have over-run their strongholds, and have them by the throat. Also, while I felt the strength of their faith, I got no indication of the Blood-Royal. They do have a man that they call king, but I looked upon him while he slept," Taril concluded by shaking his head.

Before anyone else could speak, Jenna burst out:

"But I saw you, Taril. You were riding down a dirt road. I even heard Sky's hooves. And then suddenly you stopped and just stood there. Where you stopped it was like a big valley with a river flowing through it, you know? And the road was kind of going along the edge of a hill. Well, you looked all around and last of all you looked up the hill beside you and there was this boy. He was standing behind a tree, but when you looked at him he came out from behind it. I don't know why he was hiding, but you could see he was afraid. And, Taril, he was a king."

Melchizedek and Taril looked carefully at the earnest young face, which shone with the intensity of faith. Jaffar looked down, frowning slightly.

"How do you know, small one?" said Jaffar.

"Oh, Jaffar Redeemer, you don't need to ask that. You know how I know, 'cause you always know too!" Jenna's words could almost have been a rebuke, but in Loridan there is neither pride nor cause for offence. "He had the King's eyes." She looked around, suddenly shy, and leaned back staring up at Meda, "Just like all of you guys do."

The knight smiled down at the child and touched her cheek.

"Well, my little princess, I hate to say you're wrong..." began Taril.

"Taril," said Meda, not taking her eyes from Jenna's small dark face. "She's not wrong." Jenna beamed up at her and the knight looked over at her brother. "The vision only waits for the time."

The knights were silent for a moment. Was this not just like Joy? '...a little child shall lead them.' The Spirit breathed the words into Taril's mind.

Melchizedek said, _

"God bless you, child. Now my own experiences make some sense to me. The northern portal, my brothers and sisters, emptied onto a land devoid of people. It was a high, barren land, covered in mountains and snow. I was glad of Cloud Dancer, for without her I would have taken years to search the land, I think. But with her powerful wings to carry us I swept across the mountains, looking for any sign of habitation. Then, as we crossed one valley nestled between three mountains, I saw a brilliant blue lake. It was a most intriguing lake, for it not only looked blue but - from every angle - it was blue." _

Jaffar looked up, interested, "A Mirror of Visions, Melchizedek?"

"Yes, Jaffar, just so. I was most certain that it was a child of Wisdom Mirror. The Spirit directed me to go into the valley, so I went. I spent time speaking to Joy beside the lake and then waited on Him, but no vision appeared in its waters. The Spirit gave me no further orders so Cloud and I made camp for the night, beside a roaring fire; you will understand that the Northern Lands are cold during the day and frozen altogether at night. Yet it was warmer near the banks of the lake than elsewhere, for - as I believe - some spring within it issued from the heart of the world."

"It is often so. The world's pattern is revealed in such lakes for the Creator's weaving issues from the heart of all his works." Meda said, speaking actually for Jenna's sake, though not addressing her.

Melchizedek nodded AND continued, _

"Well, in the night I woke and the stars were like diamonds lying on black velvet, so bright. I got up - being careful not to disturb Cloud - and walked to the edge of the pool. As I sat, not looking at the water directly, but at the stars I noticed that the image of the stars seemed to shift in the pool. I looked down, and before my eyes the stars seemed to suggest a chair. I continued to watch and speak to the Creator Most High. As I did so a throne took body and definite form, yet as I watched a great dragon swept before it. But I continued to stare at the throne and there appeared in the pool the face of David." _

"David?" Taril asked, without having meant to speak.

"Yes."

"You mean, a face like David, surely," interposed Jaffar.

"No. Jenna, tell me what the boy looked like, the boy you saw behind the tree in your vision," said the great knight, turning to the child.

"Well, sir, that's easy," Jenna giggled, "He was handsome. He had dark hair - dark as mine, red cheeks and, well, the King's eyes. Oh! He looked a big bunch just like the Great King," said Jenna, opening her own royal eyes more widely, "He had a shepherd's stick! I forgot that, but he did."

"It is David," said Melchizedek. He scanned the faces of the three knights. And they, looking back at his own face, so much like the countenance of their Beloved, wondered.

"I don't understand." Taril broke in, "If there is one even slightly like the King, our swords should have been glowing bright. There was nothing. Yet if one so much like our Redeemer is in that world, how..."

Melchizedek's grave face looked very serious indeed. "And why did the vision come by night? For he is the Son of the Day."

All three knights looked grim now. Jenna alone smiled, "But Taril found him." She looked over at Taril and raised her eyebrows, "You did! There's something else I forgot to tell you." The young prophetess got up and stepped to the edge of the Stone. Very gently and reverently she laid her hand on its surface. For here was the memorial of the covenant made before time; on it, exquisitely carved, was a bas relief of a cross, each tip of which lay toward one point of the compass - that is, one of the Portals of Light. Jenna sat looking at it. In the centre of the cross, was depicted a dove, its wings out-spread along the crosspiece. Above the northern tip was a crown, below the southern tip a sword; beside each of the eastern and western tips was engraved a hand - scarred at the palm. Jenna carefully knelt on the edge of the Stone and reached her tiny fingers across to the western edge of the cross. She touched the scar on the hand and looked up at Taril. Taril stiffened looking at her eyes. How was it possible for one so young to have that look of august wisdom in her eyes?

"When you prayed," she said happily, "this hand glowed." She shrugged her shoulders and swung her body gently, shivering with delight.

"What?" said Jaffar and Meda together. Jenna nodded her head.

"Child, when?" asked Melchizedek. Jenna's smile disappeared, and she looked toward the distant mountains to the north. After a moment she looked back, her smile a positive beam of pleasure.

"Soon," she said joyfully.

Without another word, the knights knelt, each opposite his portal - Jenna leaning against Meda's side - and they began to pray. Long they sought the Prince of Peace and came at last to certain knowledge of His will for them, a will that perplexed them but that they unquestioningly obeyed.

~ ~ ~

Snorting, splashing, laughing, running, whinnying and diving: it was a romp in Loridan. A royal romp it was. Laughing children, soaking white robes, horses - one of them winged - spraying water everywhere. Taril, Jaffar and Meda were fulfilling Taril's promise to John and the other children. It was their evident joy to do so.

After everyone was quite satisfied that they had romped - that no part of a romp was left lurking and waiting to be had - they lay along the banks of the Crystal River panting and basking in the super-natural brilliance of Loridan's sky, Jewels reflecting their Redeemer's pleasure. For in Loridan, the Lord of that land is its light, its sky - like its river - but an expression of himself.

Before long, most of the children were sleeping soundly by the river in a hallowed peace, the wind stirring their slowly drying locks, the trees muted to the softest of lullabies. Taril, carrying Hector on his shoulders, walked in company with the music, back to the base of the hill; with him also were Jaffar, John, Meda and Jenna.

"God bless, small prince," said Taril swinging little Hector to the ground.

"Gobless," repeated Hector smiling gap-toothedly up at the knight.

Taril turned, rumpled John's hair and then, facing his companion knights, put a hand on the right shoulder of each. They stretched out their hands resting them, one on his left-shoulder, and one on his right.

"Of the increase of His Kingdom, and of Peace, there shall be no end!" they chorused in unison, for this was the rallying cry of their order.

"Be very careful brother," said Jaffar. "These half?human creatures of the eastern lands are horrible. It is not proper to speak of them here and - even in their own world - they are unspeakable."

Taril nodded. The knights embraced. Turning his face toward the river, Taril emitted a shrill whistle. On the instant, Sky-born picked himself off the grass and thundered toward his Master. Now Master and steed walked toward the Portal of Light. Taril seemed to be on the very point of entering, but turned again to his friends and smiled. "Jenna," he said gently, "you haven't forgotten anything else have you?"

The tiny maiden wrinkled her brow in thought. "I don't think so, Taril."

"Good," he said nodding firmly. His gaze took them all in. "The King of Peace!" he shouted.

"The King of Peace!" they echoed.

"God grant you the Quest." Meda added.

Without further words, Taril stepped into the glowing heart of the Northern Portal of Light.

~ ~ ~

Far away, to the north, even as Taril was stepping into the portal, the silent, lordly figure of Melchizedek walked slowly along the banks of the Crystal River, heading toward the City of the Great King. It was not fully possible to be sad in Loridan, but Melchizedek was as close as a man could come. At length he spoke aloud, "Only for a time and a season. Is it not so, Joy?" The Spirit breathed an answer into his heart, and Melchizedek's frown did not disappear.