In The Land Of Ebyam: The Dangers of the Shadow World are Real

By Rudy Platiel

Could it be that as we live one life, so we are also living another?
Could we be unaware that part of our essence is split, somewhere beyond our current "world", in a hidden parallel universe?
Is it possible to discover this parallel existence and travel between the two?
Fourteen-year-old Conor has grown up in a time of forests, fields and cities where humans live alongside the Draegilians, a half animal and half human race, and the Shamyans, wizard-like humans with supernatural powers.
For Conor, his life and world are simply normal. His greatest joy is dirt bike riding through the countryside with his best friend Dale.
That is until he and his friend are chased by Draegilian bikers into an abandoned castle, where they find a waif-like girl with the mysterious power to create illusions.
Within the castle walls, everything changes for Conor and Dale as a hidden shadow world is revealed. With the familiarity of their lives suddenly altered, the boys must find a way to confront the lethal destructive forces of mindless wrath where the lines between predator and prey become blurred by the need to survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Jan 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9780228803027

Rudy Platiel

Rudy Platiel was born in Owen Sound, Ontario, during the Depression. He left school at sixteen to work in a furniture factory before being diagnosed with tuberculosis and being admitted to a sanatorium for a year. He had surgery to remove part of one lung, and after being discharged, he took a business course that led to a job as a bookkeeper for a Brampton weekly paper, where he would eventually get his start as a reporter. He was hired several years later by The Globe and Mail as a reporter-photographer, where he worked for thirty-four years covering a wide range of topics. In 1970 he was assigned to spend a year travelling across Canada to document the rise of Indigenous issues. This began a decades long focus in which Rudy covered a number of issues and events that helped shape the cultural landscape of Canada to this day, including the series of constitutional conferences of the Prime Minister and Premiers to include the recognition of Indigenous rights in Canada's newly patriated Constitution. He also covered Canada's first war crimes trial after federal legislation was passed allowing for prosecution in Canada of war crimes committed outside its borders.Rudy married Agatha in 1962 in Peterborough, Ontario. They had four daughters, Christina, Louise, Vicki, and Valerie (Valerie died at birth).In 1997 Rudy retired from The Globe and Mail, and during his "second" career as a grandfather, he read stories to his grandchildren and their school classes and gave his time as a Big Brother. The story of In the Land of Ebyam emerged from his love of sitting with young people and sharing a good telling.

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In The Land Of Ebyam

Copyright © 2019 by Rudy Platiel

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-0-2288-0301-0 (Paperback)

978-0-2288-0302-7 (eBook)

Table of Contents

Dedication ix

Voices from the Void I xi

Chapter 1

A Dark Shadow

Chapter 2

Life Is a Predicament

Chapter 3

The Mysterious Lauralie

Chapter 4

The Gatekeeper

Chapter 5

Flying Away from Pain

Chapter 6

The Goat and Choices

Chapter 7

Confronting Bull

Chapter 8

Meeting Laura

Chapter 9

Parallel Dimensions

Chapter 10

Laura’s Story

Chapter 11

Deadly Illusions

Chapter 12

Lauralie’s Story

Chapter 13

Redemption

Chapter 14

Uncle Elijah

Chapter 15

The Intricate Complexity of Life

Chapter 16

The Oracle

Chapter 17

The Wolf

Chapter 18

Born with Wings

Chapter 19

The Uncle’s Rage

Chapter 20

Aftermath

Voices from the Void II

Epilogue

About the Author

While inspiration is often drawn from real people, this story is a work of fiction. Much of the science mentioned in Chapter 9 was based on actual research of the time of the story’s writing.

Dedication

This story is dedicated to our grandchildren, Conor, Lia, Benjamin, and Violet. It was Conor’s intrepid character and passion for dirt bikes that inspired this story.

A special mention for our daughters, Christina, Louise, and Vicki, and to Valerie, who touched our lives, however briefly. It is Christina’s perseverance and dedication that has ensured the publication of this book.

And, finally, to my wife, Agatha, who was always greeted last when I arrived home late each day from work, disrupting bedtime for the children, but is still first in my heart.

Voices from the Void I

In the cold void of a dark chamber suspended between two worlds, the silence is broken by a voice.

You are still preoccupied with the deaths of the two boys?

For a moment the last syllables of the words hang suspended like an echo.

It shouldn’t have happened. I blame myself, a second voice answered. This voice was different—hollow and strangely distorted, as if coming from another world.

Don’t blame yourself, said the first voice. You cannot change it now.

I know, but I cannot leave it this way, the second replied.

A moment passed.

You have a plan? asked the first voice.

Yes, I have a plan. I need a candidate, and I will need your help when the time comes.

Of course, replied the first voice. But you know the evil ones—especially your brother—can never been completely defeated. They will return.

They will return, but first I will have my revenge.

Chapter 1

A Dark Shadow

In the Land of Maybe, near the edge of an abyss

Lived a brave young boy in a time of risk.

All things mechanical he loved and adored

Especially their loud and thunderous roar.

But across the land a dark shadow crept,

A company of ogres came as everyone slept.

They hid in the forests and lay quietly in wait

Watching for people to walk out of their gate.

Conor stared out the window of his grandmother’s home and scanned the forest across the field where the luminous green leaves of the trees were dancing like excited sprites in the orange early morning sun.

However, there was something curiously different today about this familiar sight from the kitchen window. On the horizon beyond the forest, a backdrop of dark clouds hung like a curtain across the skyline.

For a moment this combination of brilliant, trembling sunlit leaves against a charcoal background made it seem as if the painting of a sunny day was slowly melting into a river of darkness.

Despite this odd sight from the kitchen, there was no sense that this would be anything other than just another ordinary day in the country.

Turning from the window, he strolled toward the door.

Conor, called his grandmother. What are you up to today?

She was standing at a counter in the kitchen that was filled with the familiar smell of her cooking.

Conor walked around the large oak dining table where so many family gatherings had been held over the years and ran his fingers over its glossy, worn finish.

I’m meeting Dale. We’re going for a ride on the trails, he said as he picked up his helmet and leather motorbike gloves.

Be careful, his grandmother replied. She had been telling him that as long as he could remember. It was just one of those things that grandmothers always say. He would have been surprised if she hadn’t.

Don’t worry Gram. I’ll be all right, he replied wearily.

Looks like bad weather may be on the way, she said.

No problem. I’ll be home before lunch, he said as he headed out the front door.

Although he missed his mother and father, Conor loved being here in the country with his grandparents. This place had been one of the touchstones of his life—the centre of his earliest memories of family gatherings. Surrounded by forests and fields, it was also an ideal setting for a fourteen-year-old boy obsessed with dirt bike riding.

There was a tremendous sense of freedom here in the country, in dramatic contrast to what life had become in the city where he lived. At one time the city had seemed a safe and happy place. But lately it increasingly had become a place of fear, resentment, and social discord.

Long ago a new race had appeared in the land—the Draegilians. Half animal and half human, some had only a hint of animal facial features, making them almost indistinguishable from humans. But others had stark animal features.

Intelligent and social, at first Draegilians were generally treated no differently from anyone else—accepted among the human population with no more than curiosity. Tolerance was the watch word of the day, and life in the city went on unchanged.

But as the Draegilian population grew over time, young males became aggressive, particularly those with a strong animal appearance. Regarding themselves as superior to humans because of their strength and size, swaggering young male Draegilians began congregating in gangs to flout social conventions and intimidate the populace.

Authorities became mired in indecision. Those who called for a crackdown were accused by more moderate Draegilians of prejudice. Worried about provoking a backlash in the community, authorities did little, which only seemed to fuel the arrogance of the bullies. Slowly everyone became uneasy and fearful, even moderate Draegilians who became afraid to speak out for fear of being targeted by their own kind.

No one was sure how the Draegilians had come to be in the first place or from where they had come. Some thought they had evolved out of secret cloning experiments between humans and animals. Others blamed another group within society—the Shamyans.

Shamyans were humans but with one significant difference: they possessed supernatural powers. Although they lived among the general population, they remained a mysterious, aloof group that avoided contact with the rest of society and rarely socialized outside their tight-knit circle. They remained essentially a closed society within society.

Shamyans jealously guarded the secrets of their wizard-like powers, and so the perception of their powers grew among the general population.

For a long time, their reclusive behaviour did not matter. But as the problem with the Draegilians grew, so in some quarters did resentment against the Shamyans.

The Shamyan leaders denied that their people had anything to do with the arrival of the Draegilians. But amid the growing fear and discord gripping the populace, many people blamed them anyway. A few opportunistic politicians attempted to whip up anger at both the Draegilians and the Shamyans by demanding that authorities crack down and force both to live apart in separate areas from the general population. But nothing came of it.

For a young boy like Conor, much of this was unrelated to the circle of his daily life—until one day when the threat came to his neighbourhood. A young boy about Conor’s age was walking home when he rounded a corner and found himself face to face with a gang of Draegilian bullies. The sneering Draegilians turned and blocked his way.

The boy was seized by a sense of panic. What to do? Should he run or would that make things worse? Petrified, he did nothing. He froze.

Without a word, the gang members strolled threateningly toward him, but the young boy couldn’t seem to make his body move. He just stared helplessly.

Then, suddenly, at a nearby house, a man and a woman walked out onto their porch. They said nothing, just stood there watching the gang. At the house next door, an elderly couple walked out and stood on their porch, staring. Across the street, three young men stepped out their front door, and at the house next door, another family stepped outside. Within minutes, it seemed as if the entire street was lined with people, staring silently at the gang.

The Draegilian bullies looked up and down the street, sneered, and without a word slowly turned and walked away. The young boy watched them until they were out of sight, then ran home, watched by the entire street. Throughout it all, nobody had said a word.

News about what had happened spread like wildfire throughout the neighbourhood. Two days later Conor’s sister, Lia, was sent to stay with her aunt in the western mountains, and he was taken here to the remote region called Ebyam to spend the summer with his grandparents.

And so it was that on this particular morning Conor walked in the warm morning sunlight to the barn, listening to screams of a blue jay in the nearby forest. He smiled. The sound of the jay’s call triggered fond memories of his early childhood when his grandfather told the story of a blue jay that flew through the forest screaming, Thief, thief, but was the biggest thief of all. The bird’s call had triggered a nostalgic return to a happy time, and he smiled as he walked.

At the barn he pulled open the battered wooden door. Inside sat his pride and joy: a gleaming red-and-chrome dirt bike. Pulling the helmet over his mop of long sandy hair, he climbed onto the bike and kicked it to life. As the engine roared, he gunned the throttle and slipped the bike into gear. The machine jerked forward as if by a will of its own, then rumbled out the door and down the lane.

The sensation of speed was exhilarating as always. It was from his father that Conor had inherited his love of motorcycles and his need for speed.

At the age of three, before he could read, he spent hours leafing through a motocross catalogue, dreaming of the day that he would own one. At bedtime during visits his grandfather would sit on the bed holding the catalogue, making up stories in which little Conor raced through the forest and over trails with his best friend, Dale. By the time Conor was seven, he had his own dirt bike and rode with his father. Now at fourteen he had his own powerful machine.

In most ways, apart from his passion for dirt bikes, Conor was a very ordinary boy—shy and almost timid, a conciliator who would often use a smile and a humorous remark to defuse a tense moment among his peers. In many ways he was a product of his entire family. From his mother he had acquired a love of storytelling. His grandmother in many ways was the bedrock of his life, gently teaching him an appreciation of nature and how to keep his life in balance, and it was from his grandfather’s stories that Conor slowly learned about the joy of playing with language and the world beyond his own.

Although like other boys he daydreamed about being launched into heroic deeds, Conor would have been the last person to think of himself as brave, and with his shy nature, he usually felt uncomfortable being the centre of attention.

As Conor roared down the path, Dale was waiting on his bike at the crossroads. Dale was a childhood friend in the city, but his family moved away, and for years they did not see each other. When the troubles began in the city, Dale’s parents moved to this remote region near Conor’s grandparents, and now their old friendship had been rekindled.

Dale was sitting on his bike, feet planted on each side, watching him approach. As Conor reached him, Dale flipped up his visor and shouted, Let’s take the trail through the woods.

Conor nodded and turned down the dirt road without stopping. Dale gunned his engine and swung in behind. A moment later they were in the woods, their bike tires thumping over roots and rocks on the forest floor.

This is as good as it gets, Conor thought as the bushes and trees flew past in a blur. Sunlight flickered randomly through the rushing leaves like thousands of winking flashlights. On they went through twists and turns as streaks of sunlight blinked like flashlight beams through the leafy canopy of trees.

Lost in the joy of the ride, Conor suddenly became aware of another, puzzling sound. It was deep and guttural, and he wasn’t sure what it could be. Then out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of something moving. It was a shadow on the other side of the bushes, speeding along in the same direction. Dale saw it too, and they exchanged a quick glance.

As they hit a break in the bushes, Conor saw a sight that sent chills running down his spine. Astride a black powerful motorcycle was a creature with a human body but the head and face of a bear.

A Draegilian, here in the forest?

The ogre was dressed in black leather boots, black military combat pants, and an open black leather jacket, through which spilled a chest of fur. His hands—if you can call them that—were covered with fur as well.

Looking over at the two boys, the ogre bared his yellow teeth in an evil grin. Then something moved up beside him. It was another ogre. This one had the head of a bull with long stringy red hair. Like the bear, he was wearing black ski goggles.

Conor swung to look at Dale, and his heart sank. Riding along among the bushes on the other side of them was another ogre. This one had the head of a lion. A moment later two others caught up to him: a wolf and finally a goat, the only one wearing small, round, black snorkeling goggles.

Conor and Dale looked at each other and felt a rising sense of panic. They were surrounded by the most vicious-looking gang of Draegilian bikers either one had ever seen.

Chapter 2

Life Is a Predicament

Life is not a spectacle or a feast.

It is a predicament.

—George Santayana, Spanish philosopher (1863–1952)

Conor’s heart was racing. The sound of blood pumping in his veins seemed deafening in his ears. He felt almost paralyzed with fear, yet somehow his hands and body were responding by instinct to the movements of the bike, as if they were being guided by a separate mind.

While his heart was racing, so was his mind. He tried to think of what to do. The ogres continued alongside, grinning with glee, obviously enjoying their ability to toy with the boys. Conor looked at Dale. Behind his dark visor, Dale was also desperately trying to fight back a rising sense of panic.

Thoughts raced through Conor’s mind. What to do? Try to outrun them? Did they even have a chance?

Then something happened to give him hope. The handlebar of the wolf’s bike touched a passing branch, and his bike was knocked into a crazy spin. The wolf fought hard to regain control of the machine and managed, but it was a clumsy effort.

These guys are not that good, Conor muttered to himself.

Then