Someone Else's Kingdom, BOOK II - Scene XCVIII

It soared through the air, the desert below - scorched and hot and dusty - a seemingly endless, barren red. As if they had taken flight into the very Sun. Only hope providing any impression that it would ever end. The dizzying ascent and strange mode of travel making near-zombies of the absconding passengers. Luteeay, alone, scanned the horizon; the others, glaze-eyed sheep, trusting to his shepherding.

Then the scenery began to change. Eventually, seeping in at the discernible edge of reality, a faint green hue of inky field. The tiniest hum of greenery where the desert met the sky. The world beyond the world. The land where Prince Aralak had been slain. Where strange deer stalked through scrubby trees, unmolested by man. As the green grew further detail came into focus. Grasses and trees. Peppered with flowers, an altogether deeper red than the red of the desert rock. As if an infusion of lifeblood it quickly re-awakened Liofia, Goola and Julen. Their thoughts reconnecting with their open eyes, to gulp in the new dawn.

The sight almost begged the crew to glide down, to leave the danger of the air for the comforting oasis, but it was still not far enough.

"We can't land here."

They soared on. Across the land, then deeper out, above the glistening ocean. Below a tall rigged ship drifted by the fertile coastline. Its white billowing sails restful on the waves. Its soft wooden hull, gentle on the crest. Patrolling the natural hem. A last symbolic barrier, bottling away the great beyond.

The airy contraption spread its wings and cut above the ship unseen. The pacified ocean happy to see them cross. Its sparkling fish - gold and silver and rosy-bronze - leaping at the foamy surface. After what appeared to be endless dewy blue, finally, the white sand beach that climbed out from beneath it - rising up to form Gelkin's island. A seamless transition from waves to tall palms. In the toe-wetting waters where mermaids play between sea and aether. Or where aquatic angels weave between the worlds. From spirit to earthly flesh and back.

The feathered vessel skimmed down, to land quietly near Gelkin's little hut. An alien sight, even in this exotic and fruitful land. Its buoyant belly, full of strangers, thankful to find refuge. Except, of course, the little monkey, who sprang down first, to find its familiar home.

It burst into the peaceful hut, and up into Gelkin's unexpecting arms.