The Adventures of Yar'rag Setab 1986 (686IC)
I came across this picture today ( https://hjalmarwahlin.deviantart.com/ ) and it reminded me of an adventure I
had when I was younger. I was about 12 years old (I turned thirteen that
October) and I had been studying at the arts of magic but a few years. Spending
part of my time here in the real world and some of it n the Isles of Magic.
However It was the school holidays in both realms and my grandfather thought it
would be good if we took a break from my studies. We went out onto the Great
Gray Marshes in our world known as the East Tilbury Marshes and we began to
explore.
We started off by Oldhouse Fort then ventured down to the
river Thane from there we made our way along the shore past the ancient Elven
tower of Riverguard and then on to the Troll Mausoleum.
The sun was hitting the water at the right angle and the
breeze took the edge of off the summer sun. The sky was mostly blue with
islands of big bulbous clouds here and there like a floating archipelago.
My grandfather and I rested at the old stone table once said
to be a meeting place of Trolls, then druids and now rarely visited at all
except by the odd Arcaneologist or Ranger.
Together we stopped here for an hour before turning in land.
The ground was damp but firm. Rocks covered in lichens, hardy shrubs, thistles,
dock leaves and all manner of grasses dotted the landscape here and there a
barrow or fairy hill. Water ways cut through the landscape and everywhere
dragonflies, bumble bees and butterflies took to the wing.
As was normal for us when we went exploring we each carried
with us a canvas pack, a hip flask, a pen knife, compass and a spy glass. No
mobile phones, they had not been invented yet, well not ones normal* people
could afford.
In my pack I also had one of my notes books bought from
paper capper in Tilbury, a pencil case fully equipped, a policeman's whistle
and a ball of string. Oh and my pack lunch. In my hand I had a walking stick
fashioned for me by my grandfather. He was a true warrior of the light, a man
of wood and a story teller without compare.
He too had a staff, seemingly plain until you got up close,
that's when you noticed the minute runes in gold, silver, bronze, brass and
copper.
The two of us walked for several hours talking about nature
and the supernatural, about trolls and elves and of course about magic.
It was then we came to the great tor of Froth Jeff and we
made the sign of the warriors of light and we praised the Silver Lady and the
Golden Lord and we began to walk up the hill to its top passing first Firblog,
then Neolithic, then Pictish, then Celtic, then Roman, the Saxon and finally
Viking markers, between them stood goblin, gnome and elf signs. This Tor my
grandfather assured me was special and sure enough on this day I was to
discover it was for sure.
As we got to the top of the hill we ate and drank and
swapped stories. Then my grandfather held up his hand and said very quietly
that I should take out my spy glass and look to the north as a great cloud bank
which was coming my way.
Then I saw it and I almost fell backwards with suprise.
There in the clouds bursting forth was a giant whale. It looked silver tinted
and its side fins where much larger than the whales of the sea.
It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.
“What is it” I said?
“An Etherwhale” he explained and I was in awe. We spent the
next two hours watching until it had passed.
That day I learned a great deal about majesty and beauty and
about the world that exists just beyond our reality. We walked back across the
Moors with a spring in my step and a thousand things whirling in my mind.
It's funny because I often think back to that day, I have
seen flying whales in comic books, in cartoons and films but that was the only
time I have seen them for real.
