PART ONE: THE BUSHLAND

Chapter Seven- Baptism

The siblings rose in alarm and confused, groggy panic. Wiseherder pulled them to their feet. He rushed them quickly and stealthily past the perimeter of Bounty. He pushed them along, sternly.

“Hurry!”

“Where are we going?”

“To The Pool.”

“What? Why?”

“You must be cleansed: baptized.”

They walked through the thick brush, into a denser realm of jungle vines and thorn bushes. Soon, the trio advanced into the muddy stinkweed. Their feet sunk in grayish clay. A blue ink separated from the soil, as they stepped upon it. As their feet sank deeply into the brackish mud, a foul odor rose into their nostrils. Swarms of vampire flies plagued the group on their journey.

The poison grasses of the marsh were pale and dead seeming. They whistled in the wind like flutes and ghosts. Some were bent in half; cracked and brittle, as if they had never lived at all: white and lifeless. The reed had bulky heads of useless grain. As Orion scanned the vast swampy plain, he assessed the area as a wasteland.

They continued to make their way to the freshwater of the Great Bushland Watering Hole. This was where all their tribe’s supply of drinking, cooking and washing water came from. It was about five thousand paces from the camp. They were nearly halfway there, when Wiseherder signalled them to stop, with a raised hand.

“This is why I was coming here to begin with.” He said, as he pulled a small river-clay jug from his fiber belt. There was a Peshie, splashing in a small puddle; marooned from any real body of water. It appeared to be flopping forward, almost walking towards the small vine jungle. Wiseherder filled the vessel in a nearby marsh pool and poured it over the slimy creature and toward his destined path. He repeated this act several times, until the Peshie had a small stream to traverse into the vine.

Wiseherder explained, “This is the Morpheus. It is a Peshie that was eaten by the Swimming Lizaurus. One day, it caught a Fairy-Fly in its mouth. The winged creature begged for its life and promised to grant the Peshie one wish if it would spare the fly’s life. The Peshie wished to become a Lizaurus.”

“The Fairy-Fly said that if the Lizaurus could brave its way onto land, and flop its way to the jungle, it could become a new kind of slimy Lizaurus. There was only one condition: every magical transformation required a sacrifice; an equal exchange.”

“In order to shapeshift, the Peshie would have to give its tail to the Earth Goddess, Oduduwa. She would use it to feed the roots of her magical vines, and grant the power of transformation.”

“When the Morpheus make it to the vineland, they then transform into the Anura: the no-tails. They hop around the marsh, calling out to their lost tail, in hopes of finding it. They catch the Fairy-Flies in their tongues in hopes of gaining another wish, as a true Lizaurus always has a tail.”

“But they never get their way. They live in two worlds of the water and the land, never belonging anywhere. The best a shaman can do is ease their suffering, so I come out to help them on their journey, just like I must help you now…” He looked down, solemnly.

They walked on, through the marsh. The Peshie seemed to take a gulp of air, as it lurched forward, toward the magical vineland. The Shaman led Sisi and Orion past the paper reeds, and into the clean, fresh smelling, rich black soil of the high grassland. The pale phragmites gave way to a healthy, fragrant, bright green vast lawn of soft vegetation. Small critters leapt and flew through the turf and into the air, as the group marched onto the rocky edge of The Pool.

Here, small Claw-Creepers scuttled about between the rocks, in sandy valleys. Wiseherder bent down and lifted one by its arm. The creature quickly detached itself from its limb and made an escape under a large stone. Wiseherder offered the claw to Sisi.

“Eat, child. The poor thing’s arm will grow back. It’s good food for the healing of the mind.” He smiled kindly, with much labor. The girl took and ate, cracking the armor with her teeth, and sucking out the sweet meat of the Cancer claw. Orion grabbed his own, and joined her.

Soon, they were at the watering hole. This was the place where the tribe did all of its swimming, bathing, clothes washing and gathering of water for drinking and cooking. There were no people from the camp here now. It was still very early. Their timing was good. There were no predators around, either; just the various choirs of Angels, singing their chorus lines in the water and on the perimeter of the shores. The old wiseman pointed out the different orders in their dominions.

“You see overhead, the Finwings come here for the Sandshells. If you look up higher, the Angels of Death are circling for any carrion left by the Mooncats… but look even higher up, and you can see the great Archangel… so far up, your eyes must adjust... “ Wiseherder smiled and looked at his pupils, “You see him?” They nodded, “He comes here for the Peshie. He will descend when the water is low.”

In the water, there were other choirs of angels singing, bathing, and looking for food. The shaman gazed at the little Sandskippers around the edge of The Pool, and smiled. They were friends of his. He grabbed a small shell from his necklace and put it to his lips, using it to mimic their shrill call. They looked up at the trio and scurried away.

Others were there, as well. There was Fringi, the angel of grain, who carried the cereal grasses to new fields and planted the grains the tribe had used to make porridge from time immemorial. Their people had followed the bird through many migrations. Also nearby was Pele, the angel of Peshie. She had carried Peshies in her throat pouch across grand expanses to spread many types of Peshie from watering hole to watering hole, in the process of feeding her young. If the Peshie was endowed with eggs, she would drop it into the water to repopulate the pools of the Bushland.

But now, there were more serious matters to deal with. Wiseherder waded into water towards a long-legged, long-necked, slender white and blue angel with a hooked beak. He was known as Thoth.

“Great Thoth, angel of wisdom, guide these children back to their roots in the tree of life. May they be born again, pure and true.”

Wiseherder grabbed the couple and pulled them down into the pool. He dunked their heads under the water. They gasped as they pushed back up to the surface. Thoth flew off towards the sun. This was considered a good sign, and proof that the baptism was a success.

“Now that you are born again, you must be renamed. The boy I will call Osiris, the girl will be known as Baubo.”

The shaman sprinkled them with water of new life. He was satisfied that his work was done. The evil act was forgiven by The Great Artist. Now life on the Bushland could return to normal.

_________________________________________________