The Two Confessions John Whitbourn (best books for students to read txt) 📖

ground than they ought -and increasingly so. Though bowing low before a lumbering cargo, Trevan wastravelling at better than sprint speed and the colour-drained landscape wasfairly streaking past. Which should have been cause for stumbling and sweating,yet he felt no call for either.

‘Weare not like you after-lifers,’ his guide obligingly confirmed. ‘Exemption fromJudgement removes the obligation to tread each sequential point. Or experienceevery plodding second. Stay - moderately - close and you will be similarlyblessed.’

‘It'shandy,’ Samuel admitted as Bideford and then another, larger and unknown, townflashed by. ‘But where are we-....’

‘Here,’said the Elf, and they stopped dead, completely untroubled by mundane matterslike momentum.

Samuellooked about. It was an English village; simultaneously a typical but alsocurious one. All the normal sights - thatch and fields, church andcattle-trough - were present and correct, but in addition the place was ringedwith raised stones.

Trevanknew something about these: about how the pre-Flood people had erected circlesand avenues of rock in which to worship demons, or maybe mark their Limbo-bounddead. Under Mr Farncombe's tutelage he'd read all about them, in books whichburied bafflement under flimsy house-of-cards speculation.

Samuelset the cart down. ‘Where's 'here'?’ he asked.

‘Iwill not use the newcomer name. And our own is too sacred to relate.’

‘Alrightthen: why here?’

Samuelsaw that the Elf really had had enough of his company. The white brow furrowedas the brain beneath pondered all that remained to be said - and the swiftestway of saying it. The conclusions came out like bullets.

‘Herewe tried to teach you true religion, back when you first arrived. After ourwars of extermination failed. But that went wrong too; the call of the sordidwas too strong for your elevation. Too few would sacrifice eternity or ‘soul’,despite their drawbacks. However, some of our influence still lingers here.Call it residue missionary spirit. You will be more shielded here than elsewhere.Remain one week and do not stray abroad. There still remain dangers to you thatmust be liquidated. Meanwhile, we shall send you a gold merchant, one of ourhybrids. He will convert your plunder into - I hate this word - money.Trust him but no one else. Then go wherever you chose.’

Followingso long in Elf company and one epiphany after another, Samuel was almostreluctant to part. Might not normal life now seem insipid by contrast? Whatrelish could there be in watered-down stuff: ‘Adam’s ale’ after champagne?Even more than death Samuel feared eternal beige.

‘Willwe meet again?’

Trevanhad gained the impression that Elves had little strength of feeling, but a fairstock of it rode on the reply.

‘Isincerely hope not.’

Forsome reason that did it where all the other insults hadn't. Good honest angermade Samuel leap forward and grab the Elf by his elegant neck. He was about topunch him in the face (though surprised he'd got that far alive) when it becameclear there was no need. In every place Trevan touched, the Elf was burned tothe bone. Smoke came from under Samuel's fingers as they visibly melted theirway down. Shocked, he withdrew. The Elf fell without grace.

‘Sorry!’Trevan always felt that way when he flared and won. Crocodile tears were fine,a permissible indulgence, so long as they came after victory.

TheElf would or could not speak. He made one, then another, attempt to rise;finally prevailing via a period on all fours. After a space for recovery hemade a weak bow.

‘Thefuture arrives in anger,’ he said, in a gasping vestige of his former voice,‘and I submit.’

‘Doyou?’ Samuel was half aghast and half wary of being duped. He was still poisedto strike.

‘Yes.That is what this is all about. We must acclimatise....’

Trevandecided to go with it, never one to withhold his teeth from gnawing onadvantage.

‘Rightthen. Well, the stories say a beaten faery grants three wishes….’

TheElf attempted a smile but failed.

‘Meremyth, alas.’

‘Oh,well... how about three questions then?’

‘Orwhat, vermin?’

Samuellifted a fist as illustration.

‘Anothersuch encounter and I will die,’ husked the Elf. ‘Our flesh is more fastidiousthan yours.’

‘So?’Trevan didn't really mean that - but it sounded good.

‘Soyou would be stranded in our world, forever segregated from humanity.’

‘Ah....’

‘ButI will comply, just the same. Strategy dictates that you be humoured. Clotheyour dreary puzzlements in words.’

‘What?Oh, right….’

Hehad to think quickly, but burning questions naturally bubbled to the surface inswift order.

‘Well,for one thing: what is it down in the mine?’

Samuelsucceeded where the Sicarii had not.

‘Apimple from another state of being. A random, accidental, intrusion from asentient elsewhere. An air-bubble in your world's brick, as it were. It islimited and bound and can only look, but it is also occasionally curious.’

Trevanreflected that the older breeds were not so delicate as they made out. The Elfwas visibly recovering his former assurance and health.

‘So,not a god then?’ he said.

‘Hardly;no more than its spy hole is a 'mine'. The creature first appeared under your BristolChannel and slowly eroded its way to a better viewing point. It will comeno further in. It cannot. Your rulers worry without call. Their monasteryproject was unnecessary.’

‘Soit's a demon?’ ventured Samuel.

Thatproduced a tired sigh and despairing accord.

‘Ifyou like.’

‘Andmalign?’

‘Notreally. It will do favours and play games with whichever faction triumphs. Butit knows the rules - just as we do. Next question.’

‘Whyam I such poison to you?’

Thedeep wounds Trevan had made were now 'only' black scars, but theirunsightliness seemed to trouble the Elf far more than what went before. He'ddrawn up his collar to hide them.

‘Youare not up to this,’ he said. ‘With a more educated vermin perhaps....’

‘Tryme.’

Anotherresigned sigh.

‘Umm...well, I could say that we are borderline diffuse beings, blurred somewhat overthe linear time you are trapped in. So, we sense the future coming, justas we feel the past die. You are a possible future - and a bad one. The closeryou approach the deeper we experience it. And whilst we may not remove youthere is hope that you may be moderated. Hence our help and gifts.’

‘Anddon't think I'm not grateful.’ Samuel thought it a fair stab at sincerity.

‘Noyou're not,’ the Elf batted back in complete confidence. ‘Ingratitude is anintrinsic newcomer trait.’

Trevandidn't care for being so well read. ‘This future...,’ he growled. ‘Tell me.’

‘A‘revolution’, in ‘industry’: I will show you.’

Onelong Elf finger outlined a frame in the air – and thus created