THE GARDEN VISIT

 THE GARDEN VISIT

Thomas Tracelee had resided quietly in the upper city of Lindol for the last six and a half years. He tried his best to distance his thoughts from the horrific events of passing so near to the dark woods of Kinderval. In that time the cabin boy had grown up, occupying himself with staying busy and not falling into becoming one of the many street boys; life could be harsh enough without looking for trouble. Loading cargo onto the various ships that made port in the bay of the twin cities was how Thomas tried to better himself and keep the old visions away. Who knew, he might even become a real ship’s Captain himself one day.

Only recently had he heard there was a garden south of the lower city’s wall, a trip worth the journey. They said it was surrounded by a graveyard and was supposed to be both a blissful and strange place, to be seen and experienced to be believed. He was unsure of what that even meant, but a change of pace would be nice. Thomas Traclee was owing to no one and came and went as he pleased. Leaving through Mithar’s Sibling Gate led him through a bustling market of people shouting for attention, and potential customers haggling for better prices or disputing the crooked scales being used. Thomas smiled. There were many times that he found himself laughing at the theatrics of city life. To the right, off the main road, a well-worn footpath cut its way to a white stone structure standing alone. People came and went. They conversed among themselves paying little heed to the activities of those they passed, something felt liberating in that freedom; like being on the open seas, where a man could feel alone.

Thomas felt a difference in the road underfoot and notice it had become a uniquely bricked road. Thin-white pebbles embedded were used to spell out names.

“Excuse me, sir, what is the meaning of all these names?” Thomas asks a man who walked with his wife, “Ah, they were the people who first visited this place when Gardens were being constructed. It is said that a single man spent a lifetime making all this spender by himself for the love of his mother.”

His wife smiled, realizing it was the stranger’s first visit, “Be careful not to fall in love in there.”

“Gratitude,” Thomas said as they passed him and continued for the city.

Up ahead the eastern wall brightly reflected the sun’s light. The closer Thomas drew to the building he saw that the polished blocks of stones were all the same size, stone coffins, stacked six high. The red brick walkway turned to face and go around either side of a stone coffin within its own arched pavilion, that stood apart from the high wall’s entrance.

From the delicately carved writing etched on the side facing him, Thomas read that it was the resting place of Mithar’s first Queen. Drawing closer to see the edifice of a sleeping woman who lay with her hands crossed, made Thomas stare in awe. He marveled at the master craftsman’s skill in making the stone look tender and the sheer veil that covered her face so real. He was saddened by the loss of such a beautiful person. Rounding the Queen’s crypt two others with noble figures lead the visitor between two huge lanterns. He was astonished to believe a single person made all this from found stones and pebbles. Looking through the wide opening the young man saw the two figures of the brother and sister that made up the Sibling Gate of Mithar. Beyond its pebbled stone walls and guard, towers rose the Tower of Varlendur itself. The entire lower city lay before Thomas in miniature form! Visitors could walk about the chest-high model, still on the sunbaked stone. “The trip was worth the journey”, he thought aloud.

“Indeed, it is,” said an old man, “I was just a child the first time my parents brought me here. I remember when the man who made all this planted all these trees.”

“Very beautiful,” Thomas agreed. He continued by himself to explore the path as it led away from the huge map and over a small bridge. It crossed a waterway that wound about the entirety of the grand courtyard. Various ponds were filled with eager fish willing to be hand fed by visitors who shared their bread. Stone benches and vine-covered archways led this way and that. Since the market hours of Mithar’s main gate were limited, and soon to be closed all the visitors to the Map Garden Tombs were leaving for home. Thomas stayed. He enjoyed the gardens, the fish, and the quiet view all to himself.

With an abundant variety of fruit trees planted everywhere, and grape vines woven as tunneled arched ways Thomas ate as he went about the huge complex of winding paths. Along one wall he could tell that the huge stone blocks were stacked tombs, each with an engraved name and dates of when their occupants had once lived. Some had descriptions of who they were or what they had done. Through a gaping space, Thomas saw that the stacking of the graves created hallways that became a maze of sorts. Spacious and roofless, some areas were covered only by the overgrowth of linking tree limbs. The canopy brought a cool shade during the heat of the day. The courtyard’s greenery and sweet scent covered up what must have been an overpowering smell when the stone coffins were first placed.

Maybe he should have felt saddened or unsettled by realizing he was surrounded by so many of the dead, but this was their city now. Something comforting came over him. Thomas did not know his father, and his mother was a barmaid who knew too many traveling sailors, maybe that was why he grew up on one ship and then another. But these people, that quietly surrounded him felt like they had lives, good lives, at least one’s worthy of being remembered in stone. Thomas pondered what would become of his life and if he would ever do anything worthy of being recalled by others to marvel over his tale.

While eating an apple he decided to get to learn a little about the history of the city from what he could glean from the dead. It seems that a great fire had consumed much of the lower city’s west end. In a tragic ending to the seventy-eight lives that were lost, twelve women died in childbirth and seven of those were laid to rest holding those babes in their arms. Two fishermen died, apparently in a tavern fight over the same woman, both killed by her husband; his wife was in a coffin beneath one of the men. Seven of the dead that Thomas read about were from Kathos.

There were two wealthy men from the township of Elosh who had enough coin to be laid near the very gardens where they met their wife; apparently, it was the same woman, who from a carving three slabs over had outlived them by four, and then twelve years. The lives were interesting to Thomas. Nobles, wealthy, fishermen, and even a farmer of some benevolence gave their lands away so that others could become landowners as well. Seemed the grand city of Mithar was rich with an array of people. “Maybe I will have a chance of being remembered,” He whispered barely aloud to himself.

“Well, of course, you have a chance of being remembered,” the soothing voice of a young woman came from behind Thomas, who was somewhat startled.

“Forgive me miss, I thought I was all alone. Hope I did not give you fright reading all of these writings aloud.”

“Certainly not, but I think it was I who frightened you.”

“I am Thomas Traclee of Lindol.” The young lady in her early twenties smiled and nodded respectfully, “Wonderful meeting you Thomas, I am, Elana-din of Mithar.”

“This is my first outing to the Map Gardens; I seem to have spent away my entire walking about the day here and am now locked out. The city gates have been barred twice after the noon hour.”

“Yes, I have heard. A sad thing, what this new ruler has done. But now I am blessed in getting to meet yet another straggler who must learn the harsh way of curfews.”

They both laughed, amused by his situation. “Maybe I will head to Kathos and seek lodging, the road around back to Lindol will be too long,” Thomas shook his head not wanting to head south.

“You could stay here, with me.” Her smile was charming.

Thomas began walking down the corridor back to the gardens, “That is right, you were locked out of the city as well. I am sorry about that.” Upon turning back around to ask the young lady if her family would be concerned about her absence, Thomas became frightened and stepped back, frozen in his steps.

He saw that she had begun to walk beyond the limit of the canopy’s shade and directly into a shaft of light. The young woman’s legs and waist were missing and part of her was as sheer as a fading veil! Thomas gasped, “A Spirit!”

Elana-din suddenly looked sad and disappointed, “I died in the great fire sixty years ago. Everyone who sees me becomes as frightened as you, never to return, for that I am so sorry – Thomas of Lindol.”

He caught himself, “No. No, I am the one who must beg your forgiveness Elana-din. I am sad that such a terrible thing has made you unable to find peace and trapped here. I am - grateful to at least know even this aspect of you. If only I had lived sixty years ago maybe, we could have been -.”

Elana-din stepped backward as her body returned in the dimness of the shade, “I would have been honored in the meeting you Thomas. Yet this is how things are for me. I am happy, thankful to know you.”

He sighed a deep exhale. “I was a cabin boy aboard a ship, years ago. When we found ourselves shipwrecked, we were forced to take a long trek out of our way through the wastelands. Skirting along the south edge of the Woods of Kinderval we were attacked by –. “

It had been years since Thomas had recounted those events, and now he was hard-pressed to continue. Words failed him.

She shared with him, “The Zeethras and Yantuks of the demon realms are well known among the dead, Thomas.”

He took a closer step in her direction, “They were good men, worthy of being remembered in a place like this. I was the only one who survived, I was scared and hid,” his voice grew shamefully soft.

“My friend, your endurance of that experience will only strengthen you to face greater things still to come.” Elana-din smiled encouragingly at him.

“Elana I am sorry I withdrew from you in fright.”

“The living, have always been unsettled by the unknown.”