Shadowy trees wrap around one another, undulate in twilight. Ferns and succulent leaves emerge and fade. A pre-rhinoceros creature with low hanging skin munches lacey grass and indifferently looks my way. Leaving my body on a large rock I view my pose from above. Hills breathe, contract and expand. The beast quizzes himself then walks toward my body on the rock, stops, drops his head and vanishes. Long, biomorphic shapes take his place. A young boy forms from them whose body grows transparent toward his toes.

My focus shifts to light flowing into my space from an unseen source -- and I am in a new, spell-bound land. An ocean shimmers blue, green, gold; the sky is pale rose. The rock I sit on now is bleached skeleton white. I climb down and draw a circle, section it into north, south, east and west. The north represents strength, and here fades in a fragile shell growing large and solid.

There is a test of strength to pass before the Master of Games will let me move on.
I close my eyes, feel a hand on my shoulder and open them. A young man is standing at my side, the same that formed earlier but now he's older.

'Snuck-up-on doesn't bode well,' I say out loud, but like the strength I feel from him. Determination lines edge his mouth. His eyes are blue ice.

'I've come as required by the Quest,' he says. 'My name is Adam - I'm from the West. You are my partner in strength?'
'Strength is power well-used. Take your hand from my shoulder.'

'If you're going to resist, I cannot be your knight.'
'I'm used to chivalry being dead.'
'What test do we have with the shell?' he asks, dropping his hand.

'The Master of Games left instructions inside the tip, and we're to get them out without cracking it," I reply. 'The instructions tell us what to do next. They will disappear if the shell cracks.'
It is about three feet high and four feet from its mouth to tip.’ It’s too delicate for anything ordinary to have lived in it,' I comment, drawn drowsily into its iridescence. Salmon, ivory, purple, green and blue lights burst forth from its mouth and with them the distant voices of ancient tribes. Its outer crust, ridged with points, spirals like a ram's horn.

'Only the beauty of a thing can trap a man. That's why it's important to see it whole,' he says, not looking at me.
The voices become louder, speaking in rhythms and ancient tongues. The shell glitters in the sun. I feel his heightened energy and interest. The rhythms resounding from the shell beat in our hearts.

'It is up to you to be faithful to our mission,' he says, a challenger.

I need to focus and feel I've been drugged. 'Let's be true to our mission,' I tell him, the wind cutting off my words.

Other Poem by Joneve McCormick