Wandering Spark - Part 53
The magician turned around, his eyes flashed with honest fire:
"I swear! In those places, some more strange things happen. You can go and see everything yourself..."
They fell silent for a long time.
"How do you breathe new?" Asked the magician.
"A human get used to everything," Varan smiled slightly.
"I'm asking because we need to fly soon. The time when the sun had already set, but it is still not very dark is very short."
"You can light a magic fire... I cannot understand what you can and what you cannot do."
The magician smiled sadly.
"You know, that there are many thick books written, by sages who spend their lives to understand what a magician can and cannot do?"
"Le-reala-ruun..."
"Come on... My real name is Solok. And my friends... they called me Clover."
"I don’t understand," Varan said cautiously.
"And don’t need to," the magician snapped. "If you call me Clover, it will be easy for you, same as for me. That's all."
They flew on the plaiters, the birds were relatively small, capable of taking off only from the edge of a rock - in a steep fall. The sun touched the edge of the clouds, the white cloudy splendor glowed red and gold. From this picture Varan caught his breath, and he didn’t even get scared when his plaiter fell down off a stone.
The bird leveled. It lay down on the warm air stream and froze, spreading her fixed wings. Near the same way was flying Clover.
Now Varan was able to see well. Now he flew as freely as before. He looked down at Round Fang - and didn’t recognize it.
Where are the greens? Where are the endless thickets of the spikeleaf? Where is the velvet that covered the hardest stone with a thick shiny carpet? Rocks, cracks, and again bare rocks. Where there was a sea, now was emptiness. Underwater beauties were exposed, like a skeleton. What was alive and beautiful, now seemed unnatural or unpleasant.
The plaiter, run by the Clover ducked under the stone ledge and disappeared from his eyes. Varan, clenching his teeth, sent his bird after him.
In order to gain a foothold on the stone, the plaiter had to land on a small protrusion or a tiny slit. Looking around, Varan found himself in an inverted world: there were trees and rocks, peering down to the sky. Abyss, Varan told himself. It's one thing to know that you dive into the bottomless sea, it's another thing to see one day with your own eyes...
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