Tarc the Large: Two Worlds, Too Close

By Mark P. Isbister

In this year of our Lord, 2015, our planet is poised on the brink of dynamic change. Within the next fifty years, or so, most scientists agree climate change will cause several million species of plant and animal life to become extinct. If they are correct in their predictions concerning global warming, then even the coastal landscape of every continent will change. This may include the permanent flooding of many major cities and population centers around the world.

Children of today will live in this new world. It is not a very pretty future, if you believe the worst. Our generation may have just witnessed the highest level of human development that we are destined to achieve. The next generation may be able to say they witnessed the beginning of the end of mankind on Earth.

I wrote this piece of fiction with that thought in mind. What kind of world could result from one or more of these global changes altering our world in a short space of time? How would society, what was left of it, evolve?

I pray this novel remains in the realm of fiction, yet who knows what the future will bring?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491776155

Mark P. Isbister

Mark P. Isbister was born in Maine shortly after WWII. He was educated primarily at the University of Maine. He holds a BA in political science, and an equivalent BA in business administration. Mark holds an Associate of Arts in liberal studies, and equivalent associates in psychology and criminal justice. He has also earned half of an MBA. He served in the US Army for twenty-two years, retiring as a Master Sergeant. This is his second published work, the first being a self-published collection of poetry.

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Copyright © 2015 Mark P. Isbister.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-7614-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-7615-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015950318

iUniverse rev. date: 08/25/2015

Contents

Preface

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Part One—Earth

Chapter One Tarc and Cheabram meet

Chapter Two Shasts — A Village of many tales

Chapter Three Hochek — The Beginning

Chapter Four Tarc and sayermaster

Chapter Five Tarc and hochek as enemies?

Chapter Six Torangee and Cheabram — Spells abound

Chapter Seven Honor Over Evil — Skill over Shield

Chapter Eight The Grand Adventure begins

Part Two—Netherfold

Chapter Nine Netherfold — A Parallel world

Chapter Ten Tool Or Toy — Where’s the switch?

Chapter Eleven Ruins Of Piscatus — Treasure Found?

Chapter Twelve Which way Home?

Chapter Thirteen A Second mission to Earth?

Chapter Fourteen Somn And Ovis — Two peas in a pod

Chapter Fifteen Earth? — Do we have to Go?

Chapter Sixteen Confrontation

Glossary

Cast of Character

Peoples, Tribes and Clans

Legend of Lands and Places

Terms and Concepts

To young people everywhere.

May your lives always be filled with imagination and wonder.

Preface

In this year of our Lord, 2015, our planet is poised on the brink of dynamic change. Within the next fifty years, or so, most scientists agree climate change will help cause several million species of plant and animal life to become extinct. If they are correct in their predictions concerning global warming, then even the coastal landscape of every continent will change. This may include the permanent flooding of many major cities and population centers around the world.

The young people of today will have to live in this new world. It is not a very pretty future, if you believe the worst. If you look at the glass as half empty, then our generation may have just witnessed the highest level of human development that we are destined to achieve. The next generation may be able to say they witnessed the beginning of the end of mankind on Earth.

I wrote this piece of fiction with that thought in mind. What kind of world could result from one or more of these global changes altering our world in a short space of time? How would society, what was left of it, evolve?

I pray this novel remains in the realm of fiction, yet who knows what the future will bring?

Acknowledgements

I owe much gratitude to my cousin, Jean A. Davidson, for her invaluable assistance in the editing of some of the more difficult portions of text and for her suggestions throughout, concerning matters of grammar and punctuation.

The character illustrations used as inspiration for the cover were created by my nephew, Ian McEachern. His graphic interpretations captured the spirit of the characters as I imagined them in the beginning. Ian’s intuitive understanding of the physical features of the heroes and heroines has helped them come to life on the pages that follow.

Somewhere in the background, a good author must have a mentor who keeps him or her focused. Someone to help motivate and encourage when the dry spells come. This book might still be sitting on my bookshelf as a dusty, unfinished manuscript if not for one Jackie Manning and the Oakland library writers’ group. Jackie, author of several Harlequin Historical and Intrigue Series novels, is such a mentor. Without her expert advice and the opportunity to preview some of this book before her critique group, the results you are about to read would be much less interesting and certainly less polished. A truly heartfelt thank you goes out to her and the group.

Introduction

We of Earth think, because our fathers and grandfathers strode across this planet, sculpting it as a garden of their own creation, that it would always be as it has always been.

Be prepared to read about a world that could very easily come to exist after this Earth which we thought was ours to mold and shape, shudders and protests, resulting in catastrophic changes in climate and geography. Many think these changes are only in the minds of the frantically chanting current day scientists. Their warnings are not being heeded by those of us who drive machines that are powerful enough to change the weather of an entire planet. Pollution and global warming, being the end results that cannot be reversed.

The volcanic island of La Palma was located in the Canary Islands just off the coast of North Africa. The island had two volcanoes on it. One had been inactive for millennia, having erupted thousands of years ago. The other, the Cumbre Vieja volcano, was not only active during the first part of the 21st century, but it finally experienced a major eruption. Like one brick atop another with water in between them, at a dangerous tilt of almost 30 degrees, the top part of the island slipped a few meters into the sea before stopping.

Several decades passed, and then another eruption caused the western side of the island to collapse into the Atlantic Ocean. When this happened, over ninety million cubic feet of earth hit the Atlantic at a high rate of speed, creating a giant tsunami wave. The initial tsunami was a giant wave, well over 300 hundred feet high. Subsequent tsunamis, more than 100 feet in height, followed it. They traveled like ripples from a stone thrown in a pond—but at several hundred miles per hour. The first fearsome wall of water reached the east coast of North and South America in less than nine hours. When the tsunami washed upon the coast, it moved inland up to twelve miles and in places even more. The subsequent smaller waves continued to bombard the coastal cities surrounding the Atlantic Ocean for several hours after the initial gigantic wave hit.

Of course all civilized life in those coastal cities, i.e., New York, Philadelphia, Boston, south to Miami, and all in between, was gone in an instant. Other major population centers along the European coast suffered the same fate. If one looks at a topographical map of the land areas surrounding the Atlantic, it becomes obvious why some population centers such as London were not directly affected. The only cities that escaped the initial flooding were those protected by geographic barriers.

In the end, the interconnected economies and global culture that had developed over centuries of turmoil and change on Earth, caused the downfall of many of those parts of civilized Earth that remained. Without the global connections to the great coastal cities that were destroyed, those inland cities that survived became more insulated and remote. What about aircraft? Have you tried fitting a transport ship’s cargo into an airplane lately? Without functioning seaports, the import trade all but dried up. Many of the coastal cities had been the centers of banking and commerce as well.

Earth’s ecosystem had been strained to the breaking point. The impact of global warming had already contributed to significant increases in the level of the oceans. The tsunami had more destructive power as a result.

As if this catastrophe was not enough, within weeks the tectonic plates in several parts of the planet shifted. Major earthquakes hit many of the inland population centers whose denizens had thought they had survived the disaster. Whole continents, in the end, were torn asunder. Tsunami activity in the Pacific wreaked havoc on coastal cities around the Pacific Rim as well.

Finally, as if to add insult to injury, several high intensity solar flares hit every major civilized nation over a period of months. The haphazard electric grids that had evolved over time were, in general, not adequately shielded. Almost all electric infrastructures were fried. Millions of unprepared humans died over several weeks. Millions more died in the ensuing months. Our dependency on all things electric was our undoing.

Only then did we start to see the results of our folly. We had lived on a planet that we blindly took for granted. Planet Earth was reshaped forever and so were the lives of the tiny humans with their oversized egos.

The people in Tarc’s world live on an Earth their ancestor’s polluted until, in protest, the planet rebelled. In addition to that, there came a greater unnatural dilemma. It presented itself as a sort of rift between another planet or dimension and our Earth of the not too distant future. This rift between the two worlds represents a tear in the fabric of space and time that normally would keep them separate. It was caused by a change in magnetic fields between Earth and the parallel world called NetherFold. It is a scientific fact that Earth’s magnetic north slips westerly at the rate of approximately thirty-five miles per year. Normally the parallel world, NetherFold, has a sympathetic shift that parallels the Earth’s shift of magnetic north. A change in the magnetic field of NetherFold, caused by an meteor hitting NetherFold and knocking them ajar from their normal rotation has resulted in this rift between the two planets.

The rift may act as sort of a gateway. Both worlds will have to deal with the changes that are dramatically impacting each planet. All we can do is follow our cast of characters through their adventures and quests in hopes that answers will come to light. Read on, and perhaps ponder how close some of the fantasy is to the reality of today.

I suggest the reader actually start at the back of the book where I have included glossaries that help describe, briefly, the characters and places on both planets. They also help define certain terms and concepts used in the book.

It is with humble pride that I present to the reader, Tarc the Large.

PART ONE

EARTH

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CHAPTER ONE

Tarc and Cheabram meet

Musty smelling mosses cushioned Tarc’s tread through the ancient forest that had not known the passing of man since the time of WaterDown Tribunal. Strange was the half-light that somehow illuminated the way, yet no sunbeams ever penetrated this dense forest. Stranger still was the lack of sound. There was no wind, no water dripping from leaf to leaf, no sounds of bird life. The odor of, perhaps, magical brimstone was becoming more and more pungent. Tarc checked his leather bag of amulets. All five were slightly glowing, yet the one most round and of purple color was indeed the brightest. How these bits of what looked like glass and mineral, and soft, round clay were to protect his life was unimaginable to him. However this magic worked, he could only guess. Tarc remembered what Torangee had told him in his whispered way: The stones know when to work. Just let your instinct be your guide. Torangee had insisted he take them on this quest, and so they now hung at his side, dragon skinned pouch and all.

Off to the left, and by the intensity of the sound, at least half a furlong distant, Tarc heard, or rather sensed, something similar to leather armor scraping against wet bark. Besides the odd sound was the hint of some foul odor as well. He turned toward the sound, increasing his pace. After a short time, he stopped. Quietly he removed the length of blade from its skin and fell noiselessly to the forest carpet of moss and lichen. He did not have long to wait. Two horribly smelling, featherless bird-like creatures standing almost man height, jogged past his motionless body, so close, Tarc almost gagged on their putrid smell.

It was obvious, by their noisy and direct route of travel, that the creatures did not understand the dangers of the forest they were traveling through. It was as though they were not of this dimension. How could that be? Tarc felt his quest was becoming the most curious he’d ever experienced. Soon they were out of range, yet their odor lingered still, hanging on the dense, motionless forest air. He slowly sheathed his blade and noticed his bag of amulets felt warm against his leg. Tarc pulled the top slightly open; surely the purple colored one was very bright indeed. He cupped it in his hand, and it warmed the palm, as would the body of a newborn pup.

As he knelt on one rough knee, Tarc set the purple amulet on a patch of wet ground before him. Immediately, the wetness became a lighted fog that continued to glow as it wafted up to his shoulders. Torangee had been cryptic as to exactly how this ‘sighting’ fog worked. This was Tarc’s first time using this amulet, and so far it was as Torangee had said. Next, Tarc dipped his shaggy head full into the fog being created by the amulet on the wet lichen. His wide opened eyes itched and burned, yet only briefly. There before him, although he wondered how, the entire forest for at least two full arrow flights was shown to him as bright as the brightest sun in a meadow of snapdragons. Something else. Now he noticed, as he focused his view past the closest trees, the trees themselves became transparent. In this manner of continuing to constantly refocus the depth and direction of his gaze, he could see everything within the exposed area.

The creatures were not in sight, but there, there, by the fallen log, not half an arrow’s flight to his sword arm’s side, something lay quiet, yet not quite quiet enough. Tarc had seen the movement. By now the fog had dissipated and the log as well as the form was again enveloped by the almost darkness. Tarc tried moving the purple amulet to another spot of dampness, to no avail. He would have to pay more attention the next time Torangee tried to teach him something new.

So now it was back to warrior’s ways and that which a life of stalking supper had taught. He drew Hert from its ankle sheath and began angling for the downwind side of his quarry and the fallen log. Tarc moved three steps forward, each footfall placed gently between twig and leaf to barest ground. A crouch, a sweep with eyes from left to right and back again at ever-changing levels, and forward, three more steps. Tarc stroked the damp lichen with two fingers and brushed the wetness across his nostrils. He tilted his head with nose to wind and drew three short, soundless breaths and gave a single long and low exhale. There was no odd scent that seemed out of place among the forest scents hereabout.

Something told Tarc to look over his shield shoulder. As he did so, the large catlike creature was almost on him, as if suspended motionless in flight. Tarc tried to drop and roll forward to change the positions in this duel. He was only partially successful, as was soon apparent from the burning rake of claws down his shield shoulder and back. He turned under the creature enough for Hert to find fur and flesh.

The expected catlike snarl and screeching was not to be heard. Instead, a very human cry of agony and pain erupted just above his head: Quarter, strange warrior, quarter, I beg you!

Tarc the Large was no killer of men who ask for quarter, and so Hert stayed her course, slipping quietly back to ankle sheath—yet still ever ready. Now the cat-like creature was whimpering in pain, a diminutive form, not the huge and fearsome cat-like attacker of only moments ago. What manner of demon was this before him?

What kind of warrior rakes claws of burning fury across the shoulder of Tarc the Large and then asks for quarter at the tiny spilling of their own blood? growled Tarc. He was stinging from those wounds so unpleasantly received. He glanced down again at the form, which now seemed to transform even more as he spoke. Now a slim blonde female sat dejectedly before him.

Cheabram of Falls is my named-saying and I fear none of this realm, explained the young lass. I am overly sensitive to pain when in shifter cloak and thus my outcry.

Why then did you attack? Surely you can give pain while in this shifter cloak, if not receive? Tarc noted, still wincing from the shoulder wound.

Cheabram seemed to lose focus and fall asleep for an instant. Almost as quickly, Tarc felt a warm wetness across the injured shoulder. Startled, he brushed his hand across the wound, which had disappeared as if by magic. Cheabram awoke from her trance-like state and began stuffing a fur like substance into her wound, which, it seems, was only minor at its worst.

Tarc was curious. He asked what she was putting in her wound, since most used tinder grass.

Cheabram explained, I use actual deer fur, not the normal tinder grass that other clans use as first aid for minor wounds.

Tarc said, I can understand the reason tinder grass works in a wound. Its fur-like consistency absorbs the flow of blood, effectively staunching it, and the properties of tinder grass are disinfecting by nature. Deer fur seems not very adequate in comparison, I would venture.

Tarc thought to himself that Cheabram’s clan must be a bit ignorant of the ways of the wilderness, or were they more intelligent than this act of stuffing deer fur into wounds would suggest?

Cheabram answered that unasked question with a bit of information, Of course this deer fur is impregnated with special herbs, locked in a concoction of deer saliva.

Tarc was still perplexed and full of questions, What are you—a shape-shifter? I’ve heard of them, but only in Chittin tribal tales. I’ve never seen a real one.

Cheabram stopped the first aid and quipped, You still have yet to ‘see’ a shape-shifter, sire. I am but a mind-bender. I only help you see what you think you see. If one is courageous and a hunter, then a large cat-like creature may be what you see. If you have a deep rooted fear, then even better for me; for then I may enhance the image of that fear. As long as that is your preoccupation, then I can escape from harm.

Then why speak you of shifter cloak, for that term is of shape-shifters? queried Tarc.

Cheabram explained to Tarc; Sire, I misspoke of shifter cloaking only to impress you. I am but a plain and simple mind-bender. I am shamed and will remove my worthless self from thy presence.

Tarc found this humbleness a bit disconcerting. I think Cheabram is not in need of impressing me or anyone by misspeaking a worthy talent such as mind-bending. I was also not aware mind-benders could heal wounds the way you just healed mine.

Tarc could deal with mind-benders, yet again; strange that this was a female one. Most, well, all mind-benders he had seen were men folk. Stranger still was the firm, warrior-like form, yet, admittedly much smaller than his own. Tarc somehow felt the beginnings of respect for one such as Cheabram in a world such as this. Survival, it seems takes many forms, not just brute strength and cunning.

Cheabram had finished packing her wound with deer fur. This remedy is an ancient form of healing handed down to the Falls Clan from forefather to forefather. As to your wound, did it feel anything like a wound from your past, perchance? asked Cheabram with tongue in cheek and demure demeanor.

Tarc indeed remembered as he noted, Odd you should speak of such, as just two years ago a stealthy lioness almost won me as a prize for her dinner.

And so you were tricked into believing the wound was real. The mind-bending I sent in your direction is wearing off by now, I can assure you. She felt a bit sheepish at causing his pain, even if it had been only imagined.

Did you spy those evil-smelling creatures, famous Tarc of Large? ventured Cheabram.

It is obvious you heard me say my name, yet wrongly so. I hail as Tarc the Large, not of Large. I am of Clan Truc of the greater tribe of Chrismore. Our land is to the North of BottomNoose Lake. Of course I saw the creatures of which you speak, yet I have never seen such creatures before. They had such sense of purpose and direction, they could only be of some intelligence, not just creatures of instinct, I would propose, said Tarc with some conviction.

They may be somehow a part of what I seek in this inhospitable expanse of woods, commented Cheabram. She now seemed more substantial in human body than the diminutive form first presented to Tarc after the battle. Did you note their direction of travel, oh great Tarc? I was unable to view their passing as I had mind-bended to a log form.

Cheabram of Falls, you need not honor me with words of flattering, an embarrassed Tarc humbly offered. Yet I too may have some interest in these bird creatures. I was able, from my concealment, to view them as they passed. They were walking—if that is what one calls their method of travel—toward the Castle Builders’ realm. But what they would be going there for is unimaginable. What seek you that they might be a piece of? Tarc hoped Cheabram would confirm his suspicions of other worlds.

Cheabram seemed bird-like herself as she preened her blond locks. Yet Tarc thought she was more like a bird of this world, delicate and pretty—not the ugly, leather-skinned, ostrich-looking, bird-creatures of which they spoke. He was a bit unnerved at the thought, he was a Clan Truc warrior, pure of heart, not used to such feelings.

Our clan, when last at the Chittin trading festival made note of a strange tale passing among the Outlyers. They recounted of a frozen land at the headwaters of the mighty river Amazork. Jungle forests frozen in sheets of ice. Cheabram’s demeanor was as though she talked of God things, yet Tarc could only imagine nonsense and children’s tales.

Tarc only grunted an unbelieving reply. Yet Cheabram had insisted, The truth must be closer to the tale, as many similar versions of the story came from several unrelated tribes and clans. Each version told that the bird-like creatures were heading in the same direction as you noted. Cheabram’s voice was firm.

What nonsense could this be? questioned Tarc. All travelers of Southern World knew the middle of this hot and lush land was the heart of life. To hear of it being frozen so quickly as to capture whole jungles in sheets of ice—this must be magic or could it be, possibly, rift related?

What of this ‘rift’ you talk of? queried Cheabram.

The wise men of Clan Truc seem to think a tear in the fabric of life itself has happened of late. Otherwise, many unexplained changes to our world, such as the frozen land of which you tell, are hard pressed to make common sense of to a man who thinks of more than his next meal. For explanation of all these changes it seems this tear in the fabric of life may be a rift between our world and something else. Be this underworld or otherworldly, it is not known. Tarc felt uncomfortable talking of such foolish sounding fare. Warriors see real trees, taste warm meat, feel pain of battle and smell their world, not talk in little ringlets like this.

Yet Tarc was relieved to see Cheabram’s cheery little face brighten with understanding. Cheabram was becoming more excited as they spoke. Our elders have sent me to find, if I can possibly do so, the seat of this rift. The very existence of our life may be at stake.

The strange creatures we saw may have something to do with the rift. But these creatures, whether friendly or enemy, are not so much the question. We are worried that the rift is causing a dramatic change in our weather. She paused to catch her breath. She saw such a strong and true aura around this person, Tarc. He certainly must be fated to be a part of her quest.

Tarc assured her, There is no need to fear the return of those creatures. My hunting instincts tell me they were more intelligent than they seemed and were, by their direct and speedy course, on a quest of their own, it would seem.

Cheabram felt she needed to tell her new traveling companion more of what it meant to be a mind-bender. She hadn’t been as honest as one could be. Bending the prime rule of mind-benders (pun intended), Cheabram failed to immediately inform Tarc that uncovered thoughts could not, indeed, be read as a telepath; yet a gentle wave of subtle emotions, much deeper than everyday body language, could be absorbed by those who feel auras in their mind’s eye. It could be grounds for sanction for her to not immediately at least give notice to strangers that her powers were more than meets the eye. Perhaps a speedy confession could assuage a bit of her indiscretion, but some of his emotions were new to her. Those of her clan were never this strong of thought, nor so focused in purity. Perhaps she could wait a tiny bit longer, only to gain a bit more insight. The omission would still need correcting forthwith.

They ended the first day as newly acquainted companions and slept beside the trail in the low hanging branches of some moangaas trees, just to keep the creatures of the night a bit more at bay.

After their first night on the trail together, Tarc and the mind-bender, named Cheabram of Falls, decided to join forces in the quest for an answer to the perplexing riddles that recently began to plague their world. They decided to follow the bird-like creatures who were traveling in a northward direction, instead of continuing south toward the unexplored lands, as each had been heading originally, when circumstance brought them together in such a strange manner. The trail of the creatures was hard to follow, yet with Tarc’s tracking skills it was not an entirely cold trail. Cheabram was able to detect the occasional faint aura left by the creatures when they rubbed branches and grasses. It pleased her to be able to pass on the information to her new friend. It was evident that the creatures were following the trail, even though it was not very well traveled this far south of the Castle Builder’s realm.

Two days of travel past. It became more evident that the creatures almost never stopped. They were not going to be caught up with unless somehow they were to stop for a while. It might only be so if they arrived at their destination, wherever that might be.

Tarc and Cheabram arrived at a fork in the trail where, to the left, the trail was only a faint trace. It was known by the large stone-like tree that had no name. Everyone in Chrismore knew that tree marked the trail to the Castle Builder’s realm. No one ever traveled there unless foolish or unknowingly lost. It was an uncomfortable place. It was a dangerous place. It was an evil place.

Tarc wanted to continue on, as warriors on a quest are not worried about danger anyway. Cheabram thought it might be a better decision to continue north to Shasts to tell of their strange findings. Tarc was not keen on giving up the trail of these creatures when there might be hope of still catching up with them, but he could see his new friend was tiring. She had been a real warrior to keep up with him this long. Many male warriors would have fallen by the wayside by now. He knew that she was right. If they did catch up with the creatures by some miracle and then, somehow, were killed by them, then who would ever know? Their quest would end and all those on Earth might perish. The speed of the creatures would have made catching up with them a rare miracle anyway.

He knew that he had a duty to the Clan Truc to pass on the information they had so far acquired. He could let the local Clan Truc officials in Shasts pass on his information to the Great Councilor when they sent a courier to the Pontera tribal lands in far northern Chrismore. One more look at the drawn face of