The Meeting
Neeka had taken at least 10 steps into the abyss when he realized he was not plummeting to his death into the raging river below or being smashed to pieces on the sharp boulders. So much was his trust in the rider on his back that he stepped into what he knew was certain death simply because his rider had said it must be so. His mind went blank and his eyes wide as he took those steps. When he realized he was not falling he looked down and still saw the raging river below him. However he was standing as though on solid ground and he only formed a single question which came clearly to Bruce.

“Why?”

Bruce leaned forward and patted the great horse’s neck and said, “It’s an illusion my friend. It’s not real. It was meant to delay us, nothing more.”

Again a thought, “Dream?”

“Yes.” Bruce said, “Very much like a dream. Not real at all. You are still standing on the meadow we were crossing. Just an illusion to slow us down.”

Neeka breathed deeply, probably the only breath he had taken since he stepped over the edge. Dreams he could understand. He was comforted by Bruce’s words and the large furred hand on his neck. Neeka lifted his head high and strolled the rest of the way across the opening as though he were walking across a sunny pasture on a warm spring morning.

When they got to the other side Bruce dismounted and decided they would stay there for the evening. No sense confronting whatever was to face them being as tired as they were, and it had been a long day.

Night was falling and Bruce unsaddled Neeka and let him wander. He knew the stallion would look for good grazing and not go far from camp. Bruce reached into one of the saddlebags and brought out a few handfuls of oats the saddlebag contained. Neeka nickered at the treat and nuzzled the grain from Bruce’s hand hungrily.

Bruce smiled. He wasn’t getting much from his friend’s thoughts but he felt waves of content flow over him. Bruce was happy to just let the great horse enjoy his meal. He had been with Bruce since he was born and Bruce thought of him as much more as transportation. He felt they had something special with the way they could communicate and sometimes, just sometimes, Bruce felt more.

Bruce found an open place on the ground and curled up to sleep. Many furs liked tents or a sheltered area. Bruce preferred an open area under the stars. His fur protected him and kept him warm. He only sought shelter if there was a threat of rain but tonight the weather was warm and the sky clear.

Bruce slept uncomfortably with unpleasant dreams and awoke the next morning with a sense of foreboding. He hated when that happened because, in the few instances when it had, something terrible had happened. Bruce was not superstitious but he faced this day ill at ease. Neeka was nowhere to be seen and Bruce whistled once, then again. The big horse came over a small rise galloping happily that his friend was wide awake. As the horse approached he stopped abruptly. He caught Bruce’s thoughts.

“Hurt?” came the thought.

Bruce laughed, “No my friend, not hurt. Worried. I guess there’s not much difference though. C’mon, we have to get this over with today. The folk in the village do not have much more time.”

Neeka nickered and stood as Bruce saddled him. Bruce climbed into the saddle and once again they headed to the lone mountain, very close now. They had been traveling about an hour, through young and old forest growth when they came to a clearing. There in the center of the clearing was a tent and in front of that tent was a small fire. A table was set next to the campfire and on each side of the table was set a chair. Sitting in one of the chairs was a large, imposing figure.

Bruce rode into the clearing and dismounted near the fire, only a few feet from the seated figure. He swatted Neeka on the hindquarters in a signal he was free to go graze and walked to the figure who remained seated.

“Hello Bruce.” said Macor matter of factly, “I thought you might show up.”

“Good Morning Macor.” Bruce greeted the Lion, “You know I had to come.”

“Yes, yes I suspect I did. Please sit. I’m just making some tea. I’d really appreciate it if you would join me.”

Bruce thought of the absurdity of the situation. Here he was, face to face with the cause of the suffering he was here to stop and that cause was inviting him to tea.

“Sure, why not Macor? I’ve not had anything yet this morning and tea would be welcome.”

Macor smiled, his large white canine teeth gleaming in the morning sunlight. “Good! Good! It’s a special blend.”

Bruce looked rather skeptical and Macor noticed the hesitation.

“Oh, no! Nothing like that!” Macor stated, “It’s only tea I assure you! If I were to cast a spell on you I’d do it myself. This is a blend I created myself and I truly do treasure it. I also know you enjoy tea and it pleases me to have someone to share this with.”

Bruce nodded and the Lion smiled and went to the campfire and retrieved the pot simmering over the open flame. Bruce noticed the aroma from the pot was rather pleasing and Macor poured them each a cup placed on the table between them.

Bruce looked at the cup in front of him filled with tea and then looked at Macor.

“Oh please Bruce! It’s fine. Honest!” Macor picked up his cup and sipped as to prove his point.

Bruce picked up his cup and thought that a spell could have been cast on it but that was simply not Macor’s way. He took a sip and smiled, “Very good Macor. Excellent tea.” Bruce was honestly impressed. “Will you give me the recipe sometime?”

Macor laughed, “Bruce, it would please me no end to do that, but by the end of this day I suspect you will have no interest in tea.”

Bruce took another sip of the tea and replied, “Yes, I suspect you are right. I need to stop your collection. You are killing everyone in the village you visited a few days ago.”

Macor shrugged, “I killed plants to get this tea you seem to enjoy. Should I stop brewing tea?”

Bruce set his cup down realizing the truth of Macor’s statement. “This is different. The folk in that village are sentient. They are alive. They are not plants.”

Macor laughed, “They might just as well be! As for them being alive, well not for much longer.”

Bruce stood, unsure what to do next. Here was a powerful mage and what was he? A Moose. Oh, he had some skill but nothing compared to he who sat before him smiling and sipping his fine tea.

Bruce looked at the Lion and said, “You will stop your collection and release those folk.”

Macor laughed again and said flatly, “Oh Bruce, I will do no such thing! I need a new cloak and the emotions from that village are perfect for my needs. I will harvest them until that last one drops in the field and then I will have what I require for another year. Now, please,” the Lion insisted, “please sit down and finish your tea.”

Bruce stayed where he was. “You know I cannot do that. Nor can I allow you collection to continue. Now stop!”

Macor looked at his cup and frowned, as though there was some disgusting bug in the bottom of the cup, just now visible. “You cannot win Bruce.”

“Perhaps not,” Bruce replied, “But I have to try.”

Macor nodded knowingly. “You know, when I realized I was in your area I almost bypassed the village. I knew it would come to this. I didn’t want it but I also needed a new cloak.”

The Lion sighed and stood, setting down his teacup as he did so. “Very well Bruce. It will be as you wish. I really do wish though that you had finished your tea. It is an exceptional blend.”

Bruce reached to his belt where he kept his sword and unsheathed it. The gleaming metal shone brightly in the morning sun.

Macor laughed loudly, “Oh Bruce! Please no! Ever chivalrous but please, not a weapon! You have to realize you cannot even hope to defeat me with that!”

Bruce nodded, “Yes, I am sure I cannot, but it is what I have. Now stop your collecting!”

Macor sighed deeply. “Bruce, I like you, I really do. There’s a power in you that you do not realize and it’s a shame to snuff it out like pouring out a good pot of tea, but you leave me no choice.”

Macor made a few subtle movements of his hands and he was suddenly surrounded with a vicious tornado. The whirlwind started snapping off small trees at the ground and hurling them around the mage. It was a protective shell that encased him.

Macor laughed from within the protective wall of debris and said, “Please Bruce, do come in!”

Bruce shielded his eyes and as the larger pieces of debris began flying at him he deftly deflected them with his sword. The whirlwind increased in intensity and then started expanding outwards, coming closer and closer to Bruce. Strangely, as Bruce noticed, Macor’s tent and the table and chairs were completely unaffected as though set in the middle of a sunny day.

Bruce kept deflecting the shards coming at him from the whirlwind and realized he couldn’t do this forever. They were coming ever more quickly and the pieces were getting larger.

After what seemed to be an eternity of fighting off shrapnel picked up by the tornado Bruce heard an agonizing scream from behind him. He hesitated long enough to glance behind him to see Neeka collapsing to his fore knees. From his chest protruded what had to have been a 6 foot sapling picked up by the storm. Now though only last 4 feet of the tree was visible as blood began seeping from around the diameter of the small tree driven deeply into the horse’s chest.

Bruce was stunned. He received only a thought of surprise from his friend. Apparently Neeka had come back when he heard the commotion with the intent of helping his friend and saw the tornado. He planned to come up behind Bruce to carry him to safety and then…

The thoughts were beginning to get more diffused. Not pain. No pain. Should be. Why?

Bruce saw the rear quarters of his friend collapse under him and he laid on the ground the length of the sapling protruding from his chest.

Bruce was horrified, and then became angry. He became very angry.

“No! This is wrong!” He shouted into the whirlwind. Once again he began deflecting shards aimed at him just as they had been aimed at his friend. “This is wrong and it will stop! You want fabric? Then take mine!”

Bruce had no idea how but he willed his own emotion into the flow he knew Macor was collecting from the village. Even without a necklace he could feel himself being drained though even more quickly because of his proximity to the Lion.

“Excellent Bruce!” Laughed Macor, “Your thread will make this cloak even more precious! Please continue! Since you cannot defeat me you might just as well become part of my fabric and not face your love, yes of course I know you love her, when her entire kingdom dies!”

Bruce was enraged. No one was supposed to know! He extended his thoughts to the forest the surrounded them and offered a prayer for help. Almost immediately he felt more threads join his in the collection.

As the seconds passed more and more threads joined his, the trees, the grasses, the fish, all contributed to Bruce’s mental plea. The whirlwind suddenly spun itself out and Macor stood on the clearing surprised.

“What is this? Macor asked in genuine surprise. “No one can give this much! How?”

Bruce kept offering up his own emotion and in unison every living thing of the forest also offered up their own. It was then that Bruce realized he could see the threads that were being collected. Black spider like threads all entering Macor. It was how he collected. Bruce also saw that he could not easily handle the surprising volume he was suddenly encountering. Most surprising though, Bruce saw the grass beneath the Lion’s paws start collecting just as the mage was!

The grasses were subtly collecting from Macor, his own emotions and sending them back to him as though they came from the grass. It was only a fraction of a second but the grass collected more and more of the Lion’s surprise and fed it back to him. As though on queue the forest started withdrawing their contribution.

A small, soft, voice in the back of Bruce’s mind said, “Stop fighting. Stop now.”

Bruce closed his eyes and quit the flow he was giving to the Lion.

Macor bellowed in rage! “No, this cannot be!”

Bruce opened his eyes and, still able to see the threads, saw that the only threads the Lion was collecting were his own. Such was the flow that he was given, he had opened himself up to collect everything he was being fed. He did not notice that his own emotions were being included in the flow and when all feed had stopped he was feeding only on himself.

Bruce saw the lines of emotion tighten around the Lion, getting ever smaller in a feedback loop until the Lion stiffened and dropped to the ground comatose.

Bruce collapsed on the ground. Then he remembered his friend. He quickly regained his feet and ran to where Neeka lay. The great horse was breathing slowly. Blood was flowing freely from the wound in his chest. Bruce saw that the sapling sticking from his friend’s chest was moving back and forth. With horror Bruce realized that it was either right next to Neeka’s heart or lodged in it.

“Die.”

Came the thought to Bruce. It was a jagged thought, edges tinged with black.

“No Neeka. No. You cannot die my friend. Not like this. Not here. Not for this.”

A thought came to Bruce. Not a thought but a picture. He caught the image of a set of child's building blocks, a toy drum and an old and very worn Teddy Bear. Bruce cried as he realized he was seeing this image as though from a colt’s perspective. E then remembered the night Neeka was born and his mother had died in the delivery. Bruce didn’t want the colt to be alone and had brought him into his house, and into his room where his childhood belongings sat on a shelf. The young colt had focused on those things and associated them with warmth, safety and love.

Bruce held on to the horse’s head and cradled it in his lap.

“Die now.” Came the thought again in Bruce’s mind. “OK. No hurt.”

Bruce’s tears streamed down his face as he held his friend, “No, please. Not you. Not now. I’m not ready yet.”

The great horse closed his eyes and thought one last time.

“Love”

and Bruce saw the sapling stop its movement. His friend was gone. Bruce held Neeka’s head and rocked back and forth like he used to do when he could hold the spindly colt in his lap. He wasn’t sure how long he held him but when Bruce looked up millions of small shards of light surrounded him and his friend. Almost like a bright cloud the small shards were converging on the pair.

Bruce was beyond caring He held and grieved for his friend and the tiny lights drew closer and closer.

But that’s a story for tomorrow.