The Purple River Read online

  Contents

  Chapter 1 - Dust

  Chapter 2 - Fareth

  Chapter 3 - Triple Moons

  Chapter 4 - The Vanguard

  Chapter 5 - Dreamscape

  Chapter 6 - Kassobra

  Chapter 7 - Wormblack

  Chapter 8 - Aria

  Chapter 9 - Aluum

  Chapter 10 - Samarth

  Chapter 11 - Tarracullan

  Chapter 12 - Yarracullan

  Chapter 13 - Culla Bird

  Chapter 14 - Manith’s

  Chapter 15 - Zirva

  Chapter 16 - Tiuus

  Chapter 17 - Glow Mountain

  Chapter 18 - The Sasa

  Chapter 19 - Amarron

  Chapter 20 - The Naragas

  Chapter 21 - Night Creatures

  Chapter 22 - Ice Dogs

  Chapter 23 - The Kelpie

  Chapter 24 - Jackhaw’s

  Chapter 25 - Vufus

  Chapter 26 - Water

  Chapter 27 - Earworms

  Chapter 28 - Telepathy

  Chapter 29 - The Naiads

  Chapter 30 - The Collective

  Chapter 31 - Whistle

  Chapter 32 - Lunas

  Chapter 33 - Life

  Chapter 34 - Nymphs

  Chapter 35 - The Balor

  Chapter 36 - Violence

  Chapter 37 - Fylo

  Chapter 38 - Kingfisher

  Chapter 39 - The Queen

  Chapter 40 - Lemuria

  Chapter 41 - The Edaark

  Chapter 42 - Moonrats

  Chapter 43 - Fire

  Chapter 44 - Phorais

  Chapter 45 - The Daara

  Chapter 46 - The Eappi

  Chapter 47 - The Dead Zone

  Chapter 48 - Singing Forest

  Chapter 49 - Hydra

  Chapter 50 - Mud Cats

  Chapter 51 - The Sloua

  Chapter 52 - Glassnake River

  Chapter 53 - The Sasa

  Chapter 54 - Mannu

  Chapter 55 - The Shaman

  Chapter 56 - Nightcrawlers

  Chapter 57 - Food

  Chapter 58 - The Nasp

  Chapter 59 - Crystals

  Chapter 60 - ATIS

  www.shanecogan.com

  This paperback edition 2018

  First published by Amazon in 2018

  Copyright © Shane Cogan 2018

  Shane Cogan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  ISBN: 9781728659572

  https://www.amazon.com

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  Customer Service

  PO Box 81226 Seattle,

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  For KP

  without its sheer magic, madness and creative spirits,

  this piece of work would not have been possible!!

  Acknowledgements

  I’ll try and list the amazing friends and souls over the years who have shaped, influenced and made this happen… so here goes. And deepest apologies if I have left anyone special out. If I have, then you must have made it as a character in the novel. Much better!

  First off, the Cogan clan (Mum, Dad, Becks, Jules…JJ and Uncle Mike) for putting up with my crazy-weird-nonsense all of these years and never telling me to stop, but to follow my dreams and just write it!

  But this really has been a stop and start project over the past few years. It started on a return trip to Ruskin Island in Sri Lanka in 2013. This truly was where The Purple River was born and my dear friends over there, for many years, who brought to life so many of the characters and influenced it on so many levels and, well, just being soooooo damn super cool and positive: Avrillé de Vallière, Shiyam Mohideen, Nirosha Nuwanthi, Timothy Barco, Tim Claessen, Angelina Senevirathne, Rudy Christiansen, Jay de Alwis, Nizar Mohamed, Christine & HoHo, The Yazz Man, the bludgers: Sala & Shehara and Sylvie.

  And on to Nepal, where deep chats and treks in and around the magical Himalayas lifted some of the characters up and led to more thoughts and discussions on the book. Dhivya Sivanesan, Royston, Chandra Gilmore, Jacob & Aditi Shrinck, Sunny and those fine people at the House of Music, Verda Adil Shah, Foaad Nizam, Dessie and of course the wonderful Umbrella Family!

  And then finally I write it on the magical island of KP, Thailand in 2017. Where so many of the characters were truly born and developed. And influenced by the incredible nights, days, meaningful chats, music highs and new beginnings from the amazing: Dita Chapman, Richie, Katie Mae Scripps, Nicole Gütling, Lorea Moreno Pascuas, Roberta Ramos, Isabelle, Paola Brito Moreau, Jonny Hey, Shay Barbalat Sunshay, Leon Summer, Jonny Rose, Gaby Moriarty, Chris Tafari, Kimberly Fish, Olivia Pino, Cédric Margotteau, Shakti Cabral, Caleb Piers, Adam Kalari, Ross Tushingham, Art McHeart, Marcus Marsh, Tobias Knobloch, Sole Sol, Brian Gruber, Andy & Kerry.

  And finally those friends who have heard me talking about this book for so many years. And whom were and continue to be super supportive and loyal to the core. A big thanks to Brian Harding for the endless chats, support and pondering; Therese Rosenfeld for those important mature and sensible nudges; Warren Buttery, who for many years has bailed me out from the crazy women and picked me up; Lee Salter for being one of my oldest, dearest and maddest of loyal friends; Neil, Matt and Mel for their sense of reality, yet always funny; Ingo & Marieke for all the hosting, crazy bike rides and music days; Lou Garrido who has heard about it all in too many country trips and beyond; Adam Møller for his creative birdman zeitgeist; and Jonathan Baker for the recent chapter daily prods.

  Special thanks to my fabulous editors: Naomi Gibson and Anita Vermaak

  Front Cover Art work by Ahmed Moghazy

  Atis Planet Map by Stratos Galitis

  C H A P T E R 1

  Dust

  The creature rose at dawn, lonely, cold and hungry, despite the after-warmth of a recent dream. The pounding of its heart was the only noise it could hear. The creature tried to take a few steps but fell over on its knees. There was only darkness. It rubbed its eyes. Still only darkness. It rubbed its eyes again. Once. Twice, then it jabbed at them harder. As the creature opened its eyelids, it could finally see. It could not recall being able to use its eyes before. It looked around to view its surroundings. The landscape was flat and red with thick dust on its surface. What is this place? Where am I? Am I… alone?

  Looking around, the creature tried to focus on what to do next.

  Rising again, the creature is drawn to the glimmer of water: a shallow pool trapped between rocks in the open terrain. Slouched over, the creature looked at the reflection of its face in the water with fascination and fear. The small pool reflected its blue eyes. Its ears were small and round with a tiny hole in the middle. The creature watched as it opened and closed its mouth. Its small shaped nose twitched ever so slightly as it tested the air. But it was the hair on its head that caught the creature’s attention.

  Grabbing a bunch of its hair, the creature gave a shrill cry of fright, falling backwards in shock. Then it came back to the pool to take a second look
and to find answers. Again, it examined its ears, nose, body, its eyes and that face, but what was that hair?

  Afraid, it leant forward to take a closer look. The creature was beginning to sense something that was very new to it. Now that it could see, it touched its hair again and again.

  The creature sensed that it was always able to touch and feel but this was the first time it really saw itself. Moving away from the water, it inspected the rest of its body. Its face expressed fascination with all its new discoveries. Pulling itself back towards the pool, it stared down at its own face - reflecting the grimaces and other expressions the creature there made at it. Suddenly afraid, it jerked back, not daring to look again for fear of what else might be revealed.

  Sitting on the parched ground a short distance away, the creature explored the rest of its body. Two hands, fingers on these hands, with hard tips at the end of each finger. The creature could now view the lower part of its body - the stomach, the legs and the feet that held up its legs.

  Again, the creature crawled back to the water. Rather than stare at the image, it hesitated. It looked at its hands and then at the water. It splashed some water on its face, ears, nose and other body parts. The creature kept splashing and tried to go deeper into the pool, but alas, the water only came up to its elbows. Pulling away, it saw that the water was now a light brown colour – almost like its own skin colour. The creature wandered away from its first contact with the water pool, its mind racing.

  Where am I? How did I come to be in this barren land?

  It stood tall and still for a moment with eyes closed, reflecting on its physical appearance and recent discoveries. Then it strode out to inspect the barren land that appeared to be its natural habitat. The flat land stretched out as far as the eye could see, with only rocks appearing on the surface. The creature reached down to touch the ground and grabbed a hand full of dirt. It was red, dusty and very dry. No other colours or vegetation appeared on the horizon; there was just one long, desolate landscape of abject dryness and nothingness. The creature felt a nauseous feeling in its stomach. Am I all alone here?

  The creature again surveyed its surroundings, arching its neck backwards, staring upwards. The surface above its head matched the ground it was walking on, being a murky red in colour. Fast-moving black and white colours swirled in circles, making it feel dizzy as it tried to focus on them. The creature continued to survey the sky. What are those things above my head making the air so hot? Then it suddenly collapsed into a heap onto the dry surface and lay still.

  A few hours later, when the creature tried to get up, it fell down again. Realising that looking up had caused its dizziness, it slowly rose by pressing its hands and then its feet on the surface to slowly regain its balance. The creature then stood upright but looked straight ahead this time, rather than upwards. It walked out across the land of red rocks in search of something to ease its anxiety. Is there anything here that was not made of dust? Anything that might even resemble myself?

  The creature walked and walked. The sand under its feet crunched loudly with each step as a sign that there was nothing ahead and that it should return to its first discovery, the muddy water. On it went, determined to find something that might reveal what this place might be. Eventually, the creature collapsed against a large rock, feeling totally confused and isolated. Exhausted, after seeing its body for the first time, it passed out and fell down on the rocks at its feet.

  C H A P T E R 2

  Fareth

  A dragonfly with purple wings and yellow spots flew past Fareth The Great as he inspected his legion of protectors in the large back garden of the palace. Fareth was daydreaming, one of the protectors realised as he was trying to get the King’s attention. Fareth rose from his stone chair in the garden, his long silver hair snaking behind his long body. It almost skimmed the ground as he walked. He rubbed his hands over his smooth face; his eyes now focused on the protectors and their daily morning routine. He moved closer to the line that had been drawn in formation, awaiting his inspection. Then he heard one of the protectors cough and say something. He caught the final few words. ‘…Your majesty, if we can get your approval’.

  Someone else should take on this task. What did that large male say? Fareth grew restless as he inspected his Legion of Protectors. He rubbed his forehead again. His tired eyes tried to regain focus as he walked in a horizontal line, inspecting the legion. He collected his thoughts. ‘Yes, yes. Please proceed, as normal,’ Fareth said calmly, touching the shoulder of the captain ever so slightly. He slowly turned away from the legion, with each step exactly the same in time and space. He bowed his head.

  There is a growing feeling of unease in the air, something I have not felt in many years. Last night’s dreams were far too disturbing.

  Fareth sat back down on the stone chair in the large garden full of yellow bell flowers behind the palace. The Legion of Protectors stood in a single line facing their king. None of them dared to move. ‘Only ten this morning, I see,’ Fareth said. The Captain looked at the protectors and glanced around the courtyard. ‘The remaining quarter are on duty elsewhere, Your Majesty. Shall I call them here? Is there something important you need to say?’ he asked. ‘No need. Let them stay where they are. You and your legion may go now,’ Fareth answered.

  The Captain barked some final orders. Before turning away from Fareth, each protector sparked the black rod that they held in their left hand simultaneously, causing a brief electric current to run interconnected between them all. Satisfied, Fareth waved them away and nodded to the Captain. He walked slowly to the back of the palace garden, while holding his hands intertwined over his stomach. His long cloak dangled in unison with his hair as he walked.

  With no one around, he could focus on this personal morning ritual. He brushed the golden brown leaves off the black slab of stone, which was hidden behind a bush of red and blue berries. The fresh berry juice had left stains on the stone. He brushed them off with his hands; its smell pleased his nose and mind. He knelt on the hard surface and closed his eyes. He tried to clear his mind; empty it of any thoughts and allowed it to wander back to when he was a child and when he first encountered his mentor.

  Fareth could see the mountain top clearly - its buildings, the forests and the students that were roaming the buildings. Finally he could see that of his teacher. He was surrounded by books in his library. Fareth’s exterior remained still in an upright position in the garden. His eyes closed shut and his mind focused. He could see the book in the hands of his mentor.

  Oh Dyodor, our founding father of all the Tarracullan tribe and modern day Atis.

  Fareth’s mind was racing back to the first book that he had read on the great teacher and remembered the words fondly. He recalled his words vividly: The people should at all costs protect everything that nature produces and not plunder its minerals, just for the sake of greed and exploitation. His teachings were deeply focused on the three Atis seasons of cold, hot and harvest. Fareth closed his eyes and tried to recall the words that he had greatly loved when he first heard them. He remembered it clearly:

  ‘We should place great emphasis on the study of every plant species and how each part of nature reproduces, both plants and animals, and how nature can cure each ailment by something that is found in its environment. We should not rely on chemically-induced products.’

  But we no longer have the need for these words or maybe his teachings.

  His mind now brought up the image of this favourite teacher at the Hermit Centre, Ivan The Blue. Ivan had taught Fareth to question everything and to provoke. He remembered his first lecture and the first sentence that Ivan had ever uttered to him and the other students on that first day.

  The capacity to question everything around oneself is only inherent in a few people. Most want to quickly learn all about the planet, the people, its history and just graduate from the Hermit Centre and simply procreate. Only a few will go on to become leaders.

  Fareth smiled warmly
at the thought of Ivan The Blue’s name and words. He bowed his head further. His eyes remained closed.

  One bright sunny morning as Ivan and Fareth began their daily walk through one of the many butterfly gardens that dominated the Hermit Centre, Ivan turned to Fareth and said, ‘I understand that you’ve written your first ode. What is it about?’

  ‘I keep having these very beautiful dreams where I can fly high in the sky over vast mountains, the great seas and forests. I decided to write about what I saw in my dreams. But my body is getting older and I am not young anymore.’

  ‘Very interesting,’ said Ivan. He paused. ‘Even more so, as Atisians rarely dream. This is something our forefathers did. Our minds are now far more powerful. But please, do tell me more.’

  ‘That’s why these dreams are so unusual. I’m not sure how or where the words come from, but as I dream I don’t only see colours. I can also touch things – even speak to people, and they respond to me! It is this form of communication that I find most strange,’ said Fareth. ‘At first I thought it was normal, but when I mentioned it to some other students, very few have had such colourful dreams as mine.’ Ivan stopped walking and motioned for his young student to continue talking. ‘Anyway, the poem… well, it is about our planet’s minerals – the purple stone in particular. I have read stories about the purple stone and it always seems to appear in my dreams. Again and again.’

  ‘Wait! Stop right there,’ Ivan said, shaking his head, while touching the hair on his chin. ‘There is no purple stone. It is but a myth. A belief held by the gods in the old Atisian world. The superstitious ones.’ Ivan put his hands back down and took a deep breath. ‘Poems are from the old times, just like the old gods. They are history and so is the purple stone. Such tales now reside with the hill people and not within our higher circles.’

  ‘Oh, but it is real!’ Fareth exclaimed. ‘It does exist. I’ve seen it with my own eyes!’

  ‘Indeed you have, my smart scholar, but only in a dream. And dreams are but dreams. And talk of this purple stone can only bring bad luck. Enough! There shall be no more talk of purple stones, dreams or the old gods.’