Eritopia

Two Sides to a Story

'As I say, there is an element of truth in all legends. The problem is separating that from invention.'

'How do we know your version is the right one?' Bear said.

'I have no version,' Van scolded. 'I only know the truth. You believe what you want, clouded with pride and family honour. I have no family, no honour apart from my duty to the Elders.' He stopped. 'And to you.'

Bear felt humbled.

'Tell us the truth, then,' asked Anya.

Van seemed to smile, his grey whiskers twitching in the light, the mist swirling around him. 'Another time,' he said. 'We have to make some distance before dark.'

They left the Circle in silence before plunging into the Forest, on their journey to the Outside. And as they went, no amount of prompting could make their leader finish his story, try as they might.

***

Not-Bear, Jod and the cousins were now close to the Outside. The trees were starting to thin and reveal large swathes of sky above them. A strengthening breeze blew in their faces.

Jod had been talking to the cousins in their own language. When he stopped Not-Bear asked if he was all right.

'Me? Yes, I'm quite all right,' Jod said.

'What were you talking about?'

'Oh, the cousins were saying they were leaving soon. I was wondering whether to leave too.'

Not-Bear tried to hide his disappointment. 'I understand if you have to, but I didn't think it would be so soon.'

'It's my home,' Jod said, looking back toward the trees.

They stopped. Jod steadied himself on his stick. The cousins stood some way off, as if waiting for a decision.

'I should explain something before I go,' Jod said. 'About what lies ahead.'

'There's no need,' Not-Bear sighed. He didn't know where he was heading when he set out, yet he had reached the Outside. What happened now? He hadn't thought that far ahead. The Outside was open, enormous, unknown. What was he even doing here?

'It might help you to think of the Outside as existing in two places.'

'Two places?'

Jod was looking at the ground, where the end of his stick disappeared into soft grass.

'There is the physical part, the visible Outside.' He tapped his hand on his head. 'Then there is another aspect that exists only in the mind. For you now, this second aspect does not exist. But for someone who has been here before, that imaginary place is as real as the physical one.'

'You mean like in a dream?'

'Not exactly,' Jod replied. 'Perhaps I can relate it to something else. At the end of the One War there was a battle, fought partly on the physical plane, partly on this other level.'

'In the mind?'

Jod nodded.

'But the War was real, not a figment of someone's imagination?'

'It was real, all right, as real as anything,' Jod said. 'For those who fought in it, the reality was overpowering.' His words came stiff and slow, like old soldiers returning from the battle front.

'You told me no one actually won,' Not-Bear said.

'Well, we overpowered the opposing army, so in that sense we won.'

'Yes, by fighting.'

'Yes,' Jod said, 'but that's not the whole story.'

It was difficult to explain, because he hadn't thought about it for years. But the journey with this young wolf had dredged up memories from the darkness where his mind had left them. In the last hours they had reappeared, as he once again approached the vastness of the Outside.

'It doesn't seem to me you can fight a battle in your head,' Not-Bear said.

'All battles are fought in the head,' Jod replied.

'What about the dead and the injured, those lost to their families?'

'Loss is a consequence of the fighting,' Jod replied, 'That's true. But to persuade creatures to fight in the first place, someone needs to convince them to do it.'

'Agreed,' said Not-Bear.

'Where is the conviction made?'

'I don't know.'

'Inside their heads. That's where the real battle is fought.'

Jod was trying to describe what anguish those who fight bring away with them, even after victory.

'How did the One War come about?' Not-Bear asked.

'After many Cycles of change, in the past, there developed two groups of creatures. People, like me, and animals, like you. Then came a Catastrophe, although no one knows exactly what that was. During this period most of the people died, and a lot of the animals too.

'The animals now began to run things. They didn't do it in the same way though. Unlike people, the animals decided all should live together, with no divisions, everyone getting on with each other. Elsewhere other groups of survivors managed things in their own way. Across the mountains and beyond, other animals and people survived too.'

'Really?'

'Yes. The world is a much bigger place than you imagine. The land, devastated after the Catastrophe, flourished again. Trees sprang up, rivers flowed, lakes and forests formed. Fruits grew, birds sang, multiplied, and sang some more. The Cycles continued as before, one after another. But the surviving people wanted to run everything again, even though there were hardly any compared to the animals.'

'Did the animals kill them?' Not-Bear asked.

'Of course not,' Jod replied. 'They gave them positions of responsibility, so they thought they were running things. They were good at organising, and remembering and writing rituals. The Elders descended from them.'

'Other men living on the Outside were getting organised as well, and a king, called Barnabas, ruled them. He plotted to capture and enslave animals, so they would work under the rule of men. In that way The City would become great enough to control this part of the world. It was against them that we fought the One War.'

'Could they not manage without enslaving animals?'

'No. Men need the power of animals for transport and to work the land. Without them their cities dwindle and their citizens grow restless.'

'So what happened?'

'Well, as I've said before, the One War was fought and won, but at a heavy price.' Jod shook his head. 'That's why the world exists as it is today, with two parts to everything, an Inside and an Outside.' He stood up, stretched, tapped his stick on the ground, and looked across the expanse in front of them. Then he pointed into the distance.

'Ahead lies the refuge of that defeated army.'