THE ARCHITECT a Thesis Presented to the Graduate Faculty of The

THE ARCHITECT

A Thesis

Presented to

The Graduate Faculty of The University of Akron

In Partial Fulfillment

of the Requirements for the Degree

Master of Fine Arts

Cody Rush-Ossenbeck

July 2011 THE ARCHITECT

Cody Rush-Ossenbeck

Thesis

Approved: Accepted:

______Advisor Dean of the College Eric Wasserman Dr. Chand Midha

______Faculty Reader Dean of the Graduate School David Giffels Dr. George R. Newkome

______Department Chair Date Dr. Michael Schuldinger

TABLE OF CONTENTS Page CHAPTER

I. PROLOGUE…………………………………………………………..…………...….1

II. BEGINNINGS………………………………………………………..…………..…15

III. REVELATIONS……………………………………………………..……………..22

IV. EXODUS…………………………………………………………..……………….44

V. ENCOUNTER…………………………………………………..…………………..65

VI. CAPTURE………………………………………………………...………………...72

VII. THE ARCHITECT………………………………………………...……………….89

VIII. FOUNDATION………………………………………………….………………107

IX. THE KEY…………………………………………………………….……………113

X. REFUGEES……………………………………………………………..………….136

XI. THE PRIEST………………………………………………………….…………....154

XII. THE RETURN…………………………………………………….……………...164

XIII. THE DARK……………………………………………………….……………..181

XIV. THE CAVERNS………………………………………………………………...184

XV. REUNITED……………………………………………………………………….195

XVI. THE PEOPLE……………………………………………………………………210

XVII. LEADERSHIP………………………………………………………………….230

XVIII. NEIGHBORS…………………………………………………………...……..235

iii

XIX. WARRIORS……………………………………………………………………..246

XX. THE FEAST……………………………………………………………………....260

XXI. THE BOATBUILDER…………………………………………………………..272

XXII. LAST OF THE VASH’JIR………………………………………………...……294

XXIII. RISING TENSIONS…………………………………………………………..305

XXIV. MASTERPIECE……………………………………………………………….318

XXV. AFTERMATH………………………………………………………………….329

XXVI. WAR…………………………………………………………………………...335

XXVII. COLLAPSE…………………………………………………………………...350

XXVIII. THE CUBE………………………………………...………………………...353

XXIX. THE SHIPS…………………………………………………………………….355

CHAPTER I

PROLOGUE

The oldest stories tell of the wanderer, the great being that was born of the void.

Nothing was before IT, and after our world will perish in the golden fire of the end days,

IT will remain. The stars were IT’s home, the lights that lead our way through the burning night, and for untold eons, IT journeyed.

The wanderer opened IT’s maw and spoke, and from that first sound, the drippings of all creation were splayed forth upon the canvas of the sky. That word was

EA, the resounding syllable that beats within all living creatures.

The sound first gave birth to the wraiths, creatures without form and only felt today by their presence. They were born, and knew by their birth that the great one had called them to do IT’s bidding. It was these beings that first gave life to the worlds above and below. Using their powers, they created Atharongor out of the brightest stars, and blew with sweet breath until the land was cooled. But the heart of the world was not cooled. That is why the caverns and deep places of the world still burn, and keep our people warm.

It was then that the Wraiths saw that they were not alone. A great being was formed from the heat and anger at the center of the world. The being is given no name in our tradition, he is only known as the One That Is. The One’s only purpose was to fight the forces of

creation that made the world, that forced the pieces together and trapped the great energy

beneath.

Seeking to free itself, The One stirred up the deep fires of Atharongor.

The echoes within the world continued to shake the matter of the planet, and the

world was not stable. Mountains reared up, and fell, crushing creatures made of the fiery

oceans that threatened to burst out of the insides.

In a final attempt to combat the enormous powers of the planet, the shades in all of their numbers lay themselves interwoven like a great blanket to hold in the powers of the underworld. They pulled and pushed against it, and many of them were burned and cooked into nothingness as the world fought against them. But the world held. In its fury,

The One burned the top of the world into a hardened shell, imprisoning himself inside his own cage.

Only a few of the wraiths remained. They wandered the world for many countless years, mourning their dead brothers and sisters. Eventually, when the lush places of the world grew with fern and tree, and the rains formed streams and rivers, these creatures stayed, becoming guardians of the natural world. Eventually, the strongest of them, without the direction of EA, who had become silent, these would become gods of their own.

But the last breath of The One, before the sealing of his prison, had bubbled through the deep earth until it released itself through the soil and rock. EA, in IT’s last act on the planet, saw that this was the pent up energy of the great planet, the frustration of untold potential for creation. EA sent down from the deep regions of the universe a great meteor, on which was the spark of intelligence.

With its impact upon the breath of The One, in a flash, the first people were born,

huddled, together. For a time they had no language, and were afraid of one another.

Eventually they learned to communicate desire with hands and to work together to hunt

down the animals that had begun to breed on the surface of Atharongor.

But for a long time there was a great cold darkness, and the earth was covered with sheets of ice and snow. The game was scarce, and people were afraid.

Man hunted, made weapons, and learned to make fire. There was a great realm as far as the eyes could see, and the people of the earth grew fat and were contented by the rich fields and forests, rivers and seas. About wet places they began to tend crops and raise flocks, and to live together in the first villages. These men were fierce and untamed by thought or reason, only using their undeveloped intellect to survive. They chose not to further themselves, instead reveling in their simplicity.

At the time the world was bright and the land was lush with vegetation. The great oceans covered everything save three great bastions of soil, one to the south, one to the east, and one to the west. At the center these places met in lands that were covered in rivers, and were full of fruits and many animals. Many people gathered there because of the rich land, and because the land was the crossroads of their world. There were many tribes, each with a chief.

Unh, a peace-lord of his tribe, was one such leader. One day he was hunting the great stag which lived in his lands, which were of a marvelous height, twice the size of a stag today. He viewed from afar a great beast, the likes of which had never been seen. In the common languages, it appeared as an Aurochs, one of the last monsters of the first time of darkness, savage and made huge from the cold of the north. Unh brandished his

great spear and locked into battle with the creature. He slew it and sheared off its horn,

bringing it back in triumph.

He then gathered together such people as could be found. He stood atop a great hill, and there delivered a great speech to all who would hear him. He beat his fist upon his chest, and said “Behold! I am Unh, and I have done today the first great deed in the memory of men. By these hands are your families protected!” And beholding the cheers and gratitude of the people, his heart desired that he continue his deeds.

And so Unh set to the safeguarding of all who would come to his side. It was on the mountain of Loc, whose true name has been lost to time, that he built Mabladh, the first fortress, to guard families and travelers from wolves. He set the governing of fields and crops, and the first courts and records. It was with burned branches and beaten sheaves of tree bark that he tallied and struck letters for the first time in the memory of man. He was loved by his followers, and his family grew strong.

However, Unh was not loved by all. There were those who desired to have wrought his works themselves, and to share in the sunlight and glory of his realm, not as allies, but as conquerors. Szrak, the nameless, they were called, for their speech was never learned by any who laid down records. They were a savage and terrible people, a remnant from the time of darkness, and they had learned wondrous crafts, among which was the working of iron. This they lumped into great hammers and clubs, for they had not the skill to work it into blades that had never before existed.

A great chieftain among them, who we call Bane, came down from the mountains with many evil warriors. They broke against the walls of Mabladh with a torrent of iron, sundering its masonry and crushing the great gate. At the door was Unh and his sons,

backed by many strong men. “Who are you to sunder the walls of stone which I have built?” he challenged. There was no reply. The great chieftain smote Unh with his hammer, and dealt him a lethal blow. So it was that the first murderous blow was dealt.

The men, seeing Unh fall into a swoon, rushed at the invaders with their hands and stone javelins. Such was the strength of the protectors of Mabladh that they rent their enemies to pieces with their bare strength. Amidst the battle, Unh, with his last breath, tore the hammer from the hand of Bane, and smote him with such a mighty blow that he broke the invader in two, striking the stone below. The blow was of such strength that the hammer was heated white. The head was shaped into a flat blade which was later affixed to a great handle of black ash. Unh handed the weapon, still smoldering, to his eldest son,

Kigh, along with his great horn. Unh then departed from the world. The victorious followers of Unh stood amazed at the parting gift of their fallen champion.

Thus it was that warfare was kindled, and the world was begun in the earliest days of history. After the sundering of the walls of Mabladh, the sons of Unh divided the lands among them to rule. Some moved into the east, some into the south, and some into the west, dividing their lands and becoming ever distant from one another. They began to worship the earth, the sky and those beasts that they ate for food. Slowly the realms grew apart, and traded goods and information less often. Their speech and writing differed, and each of them took to the shaping of metal in their own ways. Great kingdoms and empires sprung up, and eventually they grew so great that their frontiers came again to the land of Unh and his fortress, of which nothing now remained.

However, they had been so long away from one another that they had become each other’s legend. Then the people of the world were afraid and distrusting of one

another. In the land of Unh great battles were fought. Where once the waters of life

flowed now there were only streams of blood, and the dead piled high.

It was into this time that the Truthbearer came walking into the world. Most of the

kings who goaded their subjects to battle did so by claiming that their spirits of worship

commanded this to be so; and they had armies of clerics and evil priests at their calling to

cast dark rituals and predict evil omens on those who did not take up the call to fight.

A man began to slowly spread a message of truth among the younger people of

the west. Some have said he was descended from Kigh the eldest, and had lain hidden,

holding the secret of the past with his line. Whatever the case, he came now, spreading

peace and speaking of a great light that was to come soon, a kingdom that would set right

the troubles of the world. Many flocked to his banner, and there were some who called

for peace.

Pontak, a great leader of the western nations, sought out the Truthbearer and slew him. However, the Truthbearer’s work had a longer life than its master. His lessons, teaching that there was love in knowledge and life and peace in crafting beautiful things, worked upon the people of the west. Soon, the very rulers that slew him took up his code, forsaking weapons in favor of learning.

While the kingdoms of the south and east continued in their fight, the west built a great fortress, Osandoma, and at its center they built a great hall of learning. Around this

fortress they secured their defense from the fighting in other lands and began to pour their

energy into works of light and learning. Soon their kingdom had a light that has never

since been seen in the mortal world. Their walls were unbreakable and of greater height

and girth than any in the world, mighty, and made of dark stone. In their halls of

knowledge they had great forges which produced machines and clockwork, new innovations by the hour. They wrote the first poetry, and song, and harnessed the power of wind with great sails to light their streets and lighten their loads. They explored the seas with great ships and climbed mountains.

It was not long before the other peoples of the world were enamored by the silence of the western lands. Rumor and slight knowledge had begun to leak from their mighty walls, and soon works of architecture and metallurgy had been sampled in the wide world. The greed and jealousy of south and east was awakened, and they poured united against the walls of Osandoma with united fury.

The hosts of the western kingdoms issued forth in defense, and their weapons shore through the crude machinations of their enemies. No attacker could molest them from outside.

Yet the downfall of the kingdom was swift. In the halls of wisdom there were guilds of metalworkers, mechanizers, and scholars. They argued about the precise nature of the Truthbearer, and who was more sovereign. They divided their kingdom into three parts. The Metalworkers took Osandoma as their own.

In the strife that followed, a force of scholars stormed and destroyed much of the city of wisdom, which they claimed had been corrupted. Its light was never again seen in the world, and soon after in its weakened state it fell.

At this time news of the Truthbearer was in other parts of the world. In the East, a man was born who claimed to be the Truthseer. The Truthseer claimed that the coming of the first herald of truth was not enough, and that he had been sent to fulfill the mission.

Many flocked to his banner, and in a short time, this man was able to conquer much of

east, south and west. This unleashed a bitter struggle between the forces of the Seer, and the Bearer. They continued to build forces and do battle for many ages.

Amidst the trouble, a small group of Bearers, in the far northwest of the known lands, set sail over the waters in the last of the great ships of Osandoma. They came to a wild land which was long hidden from the peoples of the world. In it were a few wild men, whose history has passed out of legend. These they absorbed into themselves, taking their knowledge of the natural world, and started the kingdom of Suna, the

“separated.” They dwelt here quietly for many a long year, peacefully carrying out the true message of their Bearer, seeking knowledge and enlightenment, unknown to their lost brethren across the sea and given up for dead.

The wars between the Bearn, and the Seer, continued for many years. Many smaller kingdoms arose, and fell back into the dust from which they arose. Men of the near west began to be aware of a great foe, rising from many smaller barbarous states in their midst. They combined their great military skill with machines and great clockwork engines of destruction. They allied themselves with other powerful kingdoms in the east, as well as the remnants of Osandoma, which had fallen to evil men. The kingdoms of earth became aware of a fell voice among the dark realms, goading them into a destructive fervor. He was the Darkbringer, the destroyer of truth, but he was masked to his followers. HE said that the truth was false; that it is through strength of kinship and arms that love is won. With an iron fist he cowed his rivals and neighbors into submission. Then he unleashed an assault upon all the corners of the world known to him.

After many years of war, hope was bleak. Battles between the south and the

conquered west were going ill for the peoples of Truth, Seer and Bringers alike. Bronh, a

shipman of the south, lead the last remnant in search of the far western realm which his

brethren of the west had set out to find so long ago. They arrived to find a realm that

rivaled Osandoma in strength. Great cities and works of might filled their bright lands.

And Bronh begged for their aid. The exiles had no gear of war, but their ingenuity was not wasted. They sent great vessels of food and defensive gear, which had long been stockpiled in anticipation of invasion, to the remaining Truth Kingdoms. The Darkness immediately was aware of external aid, and was confronted by great defenses suddenly

poured against him. He sent out his spies and learned that the legendary western island

kingdom was mustering their forces to assault him.

He moved quickly to destroy the threat. From his allied bastions in the east, he sent a great fleet of black ships to raid their ports. There was a terrible battle in which some of the priceless ships and creations of old Osandoma were lost, and cities were laid to waste. But the forces of the east could not destroy the nations of the Suna. They had reached their full military power. They re-crossed the ocean they had sailed into exile, unleashing the fury of their wrath against the evil armies that had decimated the land.

The forces of Darkness were defeated, and the dark one, it was thought, perished.

Yet designs he had still.

After the victory, the Suna helped to rebuild much of the world, restoring the Seer to their places of dwelling to the east and south, and the Brought to their western lands. The ruin of Osandoma they held in trust, as a guard and place of brilliance open to all faiths. On the mountain where of old was Mabladh, though this was unknown to them, they gave to

the Seer, and the lands on its southern slopes to the Brought, to live in peace. And they watched and waited from the newly rebuild citadel of Osandruth, which was the high place of Osandoma renamed after the Great War.

Yet there was unrest brewing from the mountain. The displaced peoples of Seer and Brought both hungered for the radiance of Osandruth, which had been inhabited by their ancestors of old. The peoples of the Dark, scattered and broken, began to weave themselves into the kingdoms of the world again, watching and waiting. Wherever the

Suna found them, there they destroyed them. Yet they were proud, and soon they had lesser men born to lead them. The Suna began to loosen their watch upon the world, and the Enemies of goodness perceived that their time had come.

While the Suna slept, they unleashed assaults upon their fortress in the central lands, while at the same time attacking their great cities in the exiled lands. The Suna were unused to insurgents in their own lands, which were full of fair gardens and palaces of learning, but were ill equipped for defense. As they saw their fellows and families fall about their feet, the Sunae began to lose taste for battle, longing for their glorious past, for the forgotten majesty of the old world.

The earth had been nearly destroyed by the blackness of industry and warfare, and renewed struggle was not helping the situation. As the renewed Darkbearers began to turn the society of the south against the Suna, they belched forth new dark industries and evil machines in their new strongholds to the south. The Suna, loosing a battle of attrition, also fueled their race. Their works were no longer beautiful; instead they were marred by haste and their very nature, as inventions of death. The Suna were now a people trying to survive, and gone was much of their taste for light and respect for craft. Engines of war

were their sole production. More than the battles, the hulks of ruined machines and the

gasses and destruction they caused began to choke the light of the world. Foul fumes

choked the skies. Sea battles killed creatures of wave, while land battles and poisoned

weapons cleared the lands of life. It seemed that the earth was on the brink of destruction.

Recognizing the doom that was upon them, some of the last great craftsmen of

Suna, still touched by the light and ingenuity of truth, began to build a great device. Long

they labored, many lifetimes upon it, until they completed their masterpiece. They called

it Posiden, the hammer of the sea. For its gift was that it used the power of the winds

themselves to change the sweltering airs and fumes that were growing to cook the surface

of their world to siphon the damage away, containing it in stone at the bottom of the seas.

Yet in the end, it was their doom. The leader of Suna, hearing of the devices ability to

control storms, wrested it from its makers and turned it on his enemies.

The storms of the world became uncontrollable as giant twisters began to swallow

the surface of the world. The oceans rose over the greater part of the exiled lands. The

Suna lost all knowledge of the elder days, drowned and cooked repeatedly by icy storms and fiery tempests.

A greater part of the denizens of Suna perished, not by the hand of their enemy, but by causes entirely of their own making.

The walls of their cities crumbled and vanished under the waves of the oceans.

Those few that remained lived in the ruins, or in the mountains, the last refuges of their great kingdom. In the west of Sunae, the peoples there took to living in caves, the last remnants of a great subterranean realm of storehouses and transportation systems. For hundreds of years they built and survived off the wreckage of their empires, and slowly

they began to forget their past. And yet of all the heirs of Sunae, they are the best informed, possessing the greater number of relics, as their subterranean world survived.

They spread across the western shores of Silas (their name for their lands, derived of

Sunae Sahd) like the backbones of extinct sea creatures, twisted into convoluted fossilized shapes of death, with soft vegetation covering their carcasses like a shroud.

Tiny rainwater lakes nestled amongst the earthy peaks, in the snowmelt valleys, spread across the landscape like rugged jewels, like so many rough and uncut sapphires. It was in some of these valleys that the Oestren peoples first showed their ingenuity. Long ago, after the wars that nearly ripped their world apart had simmered and fizzled out, the people that remained in the west had taken shelter from ITS wrath in caves. The oppressive rain and the merciless pounding of the time of storms drove them to seek refuge from the elements. Some of these caverns were remnants of the great civilizations of the last age, and with pieces of ancient alloys, and examples of the ingenuity of the cultures of old, they built a world out of the ashes of the old one. They fished the burgeoning populations of sea creatures that had begun to thrive, bouncing back from the devastation that had ripped apart the world, and the people grew in number, and strength.

They made music, and for the first time in a millennium, studied sound, and mathematically beautiful and carefully arranged notes flowed in ancient caverns.

It was when the people had outgrown their caverns, and that tensions began to grow, that The Architect came amongst them. There is much debate as to his origin.

Some say he came from another part of the world, and others believe he was born amongst them, from a dark and secret passage that was away from the lives of others.

Whatever HIS origin, it is clear in the minds of the people that he came for one purpose:

to lead them from darkness. The Westrons, for so they called themselves, never journeyed far from the caves, only to hunt and fish.

It was The Architect who first ventured into the valleys, with their crystalline snow-melt lakes, and their lush landscape. It was he who discovered the great valley, with a rift in the side, which had a great shelf which projected some ten’s of a man’s height out over the valley floor. He brought some with him, that they might see the beauty of the world, that they could look at the sun, shining down upon the floor of the world, more brightly than it had in a millenia. The Architect drew a great plan, for the moving of stone, of the creation of a great hall that spanned the valley, using the building techniques of his people. The Westrons had great skill with the moving and cutting of stone, for they delved out the tunnels in which they began to live for each new family.

They built a great mound of earth, and laid out slabs of stone in such a way so that the first stones supported those above, and so on. Venting passages were cut, as in the tunnels below, and eventually those that followed The Architect had created a grand hall, a cave for their people that was immense, large enough to house them all. They created vast gears and steam driven machines for the purpose of moving air and water throughout the cavern, and used systems to store light, and let it in during the daytime. Their systems were based off of the smaller systems that they had used in their caves, but on a much grander scale. They used the hides of animals stretched across a great beam, which turned and circulated the air.

The peoples of Old Silas were great metalworkers. Over time they were able to attempt feats of engineering unheard of even in the ancient days of old Suna. They wove garments out of metal so fine that they felt of cloth, but were strong enough to last a

lifetime. Their engines of creation were able to not only cover existing valleys to make homes, but to delve entirely new ones. The belief of our fathers was that the world was birthed incomplete. The ores that lay in the outermost layer of her skin were unrefined by the fires of creation, and were waiting to be purified and perfected by their experienced hands.

CHAPTER II

BEGINNINGS

Through a doorway of post and block, as the morning light beyond brightened, filtering through the ventilation shafts it hit the smooth packed earth of the first great hall.

A forest of timber poles stretched some ten yards to the roof of the man made room, and alternating layers of stacked timber and stone made up its walls, ascending upward and inward like a beehive. At intervals there were the portals and windows, reached by crude ladders, of private dwellings. It was through those windows that many large eyes peered down upon a great commotion in the center.

Tramping to and fro in front of a large basin filled with stoked embers was a gnarled husk of a man. His eyes were smaller than the rest, his hair white, starkly and wetly falling round his shoulders. Surrounding him was the Juventud, a class of the youth of Silas. In their brown tunics they sat in the dirt, be-sandaled and attentive. The old man moved his hands in the air, punching a fist to accentuate every point he made. The

Jordanus was their storyteller.

“You are our future, young ones. You are our investment, our possibility. You are what the Silaseans will become.” He lowered his hand to a young boy, patting his head with a thin hand. “You will one day be our Silas—” The dim light in the room brightened, and then was blocked temporarily. The old man’s head snapped towards the shadow. 15

Two forms filled the doorway, and a man at guard closed the barrier beyond.

Moving forward into the dimness, they were able to be made out. One was an older boy, limping, a small stave supporting him. The other was a great, sinewy man with bow and arrow, clad in leather, and at his side a short Hakki, a hunting blade. The hunter prodded the boy roughly towards the center of the room.

The ancient man dropped his hand, mid-sentence. He stepped down from before the coals, a grave look spread across his face. “Telkas. Young hunter, where did you find him?”

“Outside, Jordanus. On the promontory just beyond the outer port-way.” The old man shook his head sadly.

Do you remember what gave you this limp just a year ago?” The old man kicked at the youth’s stave. “By the stones, Telkas. Can you not see that we’ve grown tired of your disobedience? There is real work to be done. What did you think to find beyond where our bravest hunters go? A second Silas?” There was muffled laughter as hundreds of pairs of bright eyes stared. “This outer world is not even safe for the hunters after moon-down. What makes you think a cripple could survive?” The Jordanus’s face quivered in a suppression of some other hidden emotion. “Young boy, we are trying to protect you.”

The stern countenance of the Jordanus frowned down upon him, although he was nearly level eye to eye with the old man. Furrows and crevices in his dry, ancient skin formed networks like parched gulches in drought. “And yet you are selfish. You think that attention is worth more than the safety of your people. You do know that famine is upon us? The fish dwindle, our berries and forest fruits regress more from the safety of

the caves each day. How would it be to send those who could be hunting or gathering off

to rescue a fool like you? At least wait until this famine passes before you test our

patience. Remember not a half- moon ago that one of our hunters was killed by a

Grondak while crossing the large barren waste between the forest and our caves? It is too

vast for us now.”

The boy rose up as high as he could upon his small stave, and yet he averted his

eyes from the ugly face. “Great Jordanus, I am humble, I’m sorry for anything I could have done that would have harmed anything. I—I… think that, perhaps, it would be good

to explore, to look for new settlements. In the many valleys, there may be hope while this

world dwindles--.”

The old man raised his shrill voice. “And what of these my little adventurer?” He jabbed a long whitened claw from beneath his dark robe at Telkas’s eyes. Telkas flinched, trying to cover his face, and stumbling upon his stave, just barely kept himself from falling. “These cannot stand the brilliant light of the morning light! How can you fathom the burning death of noon, when the sun is closest to the earth, and all things not prepared for its wrath fry? In your valleys you will find only death. Our ancestors stayed here, all through the great sundering, and the time of storms, and they survived. We must follow them, or perish. This is the law of our world, the law of survival.”

The elder gesticulated, and while speaking he moved furiously in the in the glow of the coals, the smoke rose into the chimney shafts and caught the light. Intermittently it would cast itself over him, illuminating with grace the flash of a hand, or the hooded twinkling of his eye.

“Young ones, I will have a word with this boy. You will continue lessons tomorrow.” One by one, they dispersed, casting furtive glances at the boy with his stave.

The old man stepped from the dais beside the coals, back to Telkas’s height. “You are also our future. I would not have you waste yourself needlessly.” The boy lowered his head.

“I appreciate your guidance, Jordanus. I—I do not believe that—.” A hand stopped him.

“Come, young one. I will speak with you in private. You seek a guide, don’t you?” Telkas said nothing; he followed the Jordanus out of the main chamber, leaving the circle of students far behind in the huge chamber. Along the walls, tiny phosphorescent lines became distinguishable from the faint glow they gave off. As they neared the deepest walls of the great cavern, Telkas began to run his free hand along their carved lines. Where they neared a clay oil lamp on the wall, they glowed brighter, more furiously. Telkas listened to their hollow steps as they rang off of the stone floor, its flagstones outlined with the same phosphorescent mineral. He limped slightly on his right leg, bolstering himself on a strange scrap of ancient ore, a piece of the elder days, some of which could still be found littering the ancient mountain passages of his home. He was older than he appeared. The fine mist of downy hair that signaled the nearing of adult hood had begun to cover his face. He would grow it into a beard, and when it became full, it was the tradition of the Silaseans that he would be affirmed, accepted as a man, and could go about finding a family.

They reached a small square postern doorway, made with timber. The Jordanus had to duck slightly as he made his way under it; Telkas did not. Oil lamps revealed in

their flickering light a winding staircase, the stones again outlined in a faint glow. There

were huge logs supporting the mass of rock above them, every few steps. Telkas

remembered how much timber it actually took to create their passages. As they

ascended, the Jordanus began to speak.

“Boy, it’s not about believing. I have followed for my entire life. Followed. If you believe in something that belief can be crushed.” He turned, and Telkas saw the flash of the tunnel flames in the man’s dark eyes.” You can lose your belief. Reverence for those who have gone before us, following their beautiful example, their escape into the caves, these things are what we need. There is no room for beliefs in action, my boy. If you want to believe, go to the priests. They will teach you about the earth gods.” Telkas kept his head tilted towards the Jordanus’s eel-hide sandals.

“As you say, old one.”

At the top of the winding passage was a small landing off of which three doors led outwards, covered with red cloth. The Jordanus disappeared into one of them. Telkas waited for a moment, and then followed him within.

They were standing in a room that was nearly solid with paneling and large wooden supports in between. It extended perhaps twenty steps forwards, and the same width. Worked into the wood were large hunks of the luminescent ore, supporting small lamps which made them light up and cast a faint green light. Mixed with the yellow of the lanterns, it was fairly easy to see for a Silasean. There were heavy tables along the walls, some carrying odd looking machines and objects. Telkas realized that to their back, the entire wall was covered in tiny alcoves cut into the wood and rock.

“Telkas, you know that it is against the gods to do what you have done today. But

I will tell you a secret, one that you will not normally hear from anyone.”

Telkas widened his eyes slightly. The Jordanus smiled, revealing his bone-white teeth. “I know of a time in our past when people were more free about the upper world.

We do not speak of this often…” He sighed deeply. “But sometimes for your protection it must be remembered. There were, when I was younger, expeditions to look for more materials, more food.” He stopped, turning towards him. “Do you know of the ancients?”

Telkas nodded once. “The flight? Their destruction and the Sundering?”

The Jordanus moved over to a section of the wall that was out of the way of the light. There, Telkas saw that the timbers which outlined the walls were colored a deep red. “That is the beginning.” He seated himself, placing his hand on a fabric cover that was resting overtop an unknown object. “This is taught to many youths, but in truth, my boy, I see your curiosity. I see your mind working. It’s a good thing. But when minds work this way, they must be shown the truth so that they do not assume. An assumption is destruction. I know you seek the outer worlds. Many Silaseans do not. They are comfortable in the grottoes, raising fish, digging earth and stone. They know they are safe. What I will tell you now will show you why we must always stay here, why you are safe.” He removed the cover, revealing a large clay jar with a sealed top. On the face of it was the image of a woman, roughly drawn, but with a tear on her cheek. Her hands were cupped together, and from them was hanging a thread with one knot.

“A death urn? Jordanus, what is this?” He realized that he was standing in the halls of the dead. “Why have you brought me here?”

“Young one, you are holding your mother.”

The words sank to the bottom of Telkas’s heart.

The Jordanus took the urn, placing it back into its red alcove. “We wanted to

protect their memory. To tell the young that their parents died in a terrible accident, to

protect Silas. We told you long ago that they had been killed in a tremendous cave- in. To

protect you.” Telkas sank to the floor, looking at the covered alcove where his mother

was.

“You were cared for, though you are lame. Though you cannot carry your own

burden, boy. Your parents searched and thought, as you do, of a new Silas, another

world. They led the dead in this wall, against the will and tradition of the people, into the

brightness of the morning. They stayed out past even the point when the hunters must

return. And, when they were too far, they were consumed by the fire of the world above.

All of those they led, were returned to the ash of the earth because of their actions…”

Telkas turned his head away. In the tear that travelled down his face the image of a candle flame was reflected, captured for an instant, until it dropped off of his skin and into the abyss below. “I cannot—don’t want to…” The man moved towards the boy, placing his snarled hand on his head.

“It is hard to accept. But your parents lead people into a false hope. There is no escaping the death of the sun. the hard plants of the plains, the creatures, even the trees, are twisted and deformed by its heat. There are furious fires and vents of death in that world. The sun will drain you of your life; the earth opens and consumes you. It is only death. You must know that we wish only honor for the dead of Silas. They were foolish, and they have been protected in the hearts of the people. But always know that thoughts like they shared will end here. There is no way but the way of the gods.”

CHAPTER III

REVELATIONS

Telkas fled down the steps. He tapped his staff faster and faster, his voice sniffed, echoing along the dim passage. The Jordanus had left him for his private chambers, and he was glad of it. Telkas tried to think of the hazy images that he remembered as his mother; his father. He couldn’t see them, couldn’t see the passage through the blur of tears. As he moved faster and faster downwards, his steps became more and more erratic until, finally, he lost his footing and landed hard upon his injured right leg. The pain in his heart merged with a new pain. He yelled into the darkness. After some time at the bottom of the passage, Telkas wiped his tears away. He was exhausted. And he was also likely late. He raised himself, muscles burning, onto his feet, and moved into the dim light of the sanctuary.

###

Along the crest of rock adorning a seldom used passage, most ancient, and near to the oldest of their tunnels, a thinly hammered and dull piece of ore was stuck. Telkas looked about, in the green light of the few glowstones that were still set into the walls. He extricated a metallic rod from a bent pipe in the wall, with worn pieces of coloring, the work of a past age, dimly smattering its surface. With this rod he was able to pull aside the sheet of ore, opening his eyes to a vast darkness.

He stepped over a low wall, being careful to slide the barrier back in place as he

left it. Scrambling down a series of worked stone blocks, his eyes only just made out the

edges of rocks. It was pitch black, and though he knew this area of the cavern well, it was

impossible even for his large eyes, which over generations had adapted to low levels of

light. He produced from his tunic an animal fat lamp, crudely made from clay. He lit it

with flint and tinder, and the dim light slowly spread, alighting on his worn leather-strap

sandals, the pale skin of his feet, to the strange surface below him. It was tiny squares of rock, blue-green in color, expertly cut, and spread on ahead of him as far as he could see.

Ancient drifts of dirt and dust smeared it as far as the light would carry, but a pathway emerged of cleaner stones. In the deepness ahead, the passage widened, and columns of deteriorating ore and stone lined the way, guarding his secret. His padded steps echoing slightly, Telkas began to make his way along, breathing shallowly, the light flickering in

the low-oxygen environment.

The air had been much thinner when he had first entered the passage, and he

remembered when it had been harder to breathe. The air from the living caverns

undoubtedly had begun to work its way in over time, as he opened and closed the door.

Although it was a decently large cave, Telkas hadn’t had much else to do since his

accident several years before. He was given the task of a clothing mender, reserved for

women. But he avoided them whenever he could, preferring to spend his time in a place

that felt beyond age.

Telkas knew it was old. He could feel it in the grains of stone, in the ores and

workmanship of the cavern. He could see the unspoken language on the walls, its

sweeping scripts beautiful and mysterious. He saw the designs and mosaics in the floors

and on the columns, showing machines that had long since rusted into nothingness. The like of it had not been seen in hundreds of years, probably not since the ancient days before the catastrophic wars and the sundering of the world. It felt like a different universe.

He walked, fumbling over loose stone, to the drop. His lamp cast long shadows from the pillars until it jumped down a height which was greater than his own. It was only a small chasm, for only a few yards wide it was before there continued the floor upon which he stood. He had never been able to explore its bottom, layered with sediment and dust, but he had been able to use some very long roots to brush it aside, far below. Underneath laid perhaps the most intriguing discovery in the cave; parallel lines of hardened metal, crossed many times underneath by beams. Telkas had unearthed this framework at several points with sticks and other long objects and guessed that it followed the whole 20 yards of cavern, and imagined that it continued beyond the two points of collapse at either end. He could not fathom its purpose, but did understand that because of the pillars, this wider section in which he stood was supported and un- collapsed.

In the pale light beyond his lamp Telkas could see strange hulks and bits of metals nestled in dark corners, an archway and a passage beyond. His heart burned to explore those unknown objects, those hidden wonders that his tunnel had kept intact for many centuries.

They were brilliant, the tunnels. For the roof was made up of wide stones, angled in such a way so that each consecutive stone supported the one above it, arching all the way to the floor. Telkas marveled at this engineering, and even went so far as to attempt

to construct tiny versions of these from the rubble. They were unlike any of the outer caverns which were supported by square blocks and pieces of ore or wooden rafters, which were harder to obtain as the need for trees grew and the cut timberline receded farther from the entrance to the caves.

From the sheet of ore there came a dim tapping. Telkas leapt upon his feet clumsily, and moved towards the sound. After some minutes to backtrack, and wrenching aside the barrier, he saw a girl slightly younger than he. Large eyes blinked.

“Come, come inside!” He scowled for a moment, but his expression soon melted, pulled by muscles he could not control, then relaxed. Reaching for her wrist, he pulled, motioning with his hand while awkwardly trying to support himself on the high stone slab. His eyes widened as he realized he had lost his balance. Surprised, he tumbled backwards onto the cold floor below. The girl scrambled down the stones to his side.

Shaking with pain, he moved to rise, but grimaced. She knelt beside him, but he grabbed his stave, pointing wildly towards the doorway.

Jestea crawled back atop the ledge to seal it. Though the lamp was some ten yards away, and its light weak, he could make out her image in the deepness. She was small, just growing into adulthood, a few seasons younger than he. The curves of a woman’s body began to show evidence under her linen tunic, which fell to her knees in the style of

Sudian females. Her hair was dark, blending into the dimness, and bound by a bone comb the shape of the half moon. It directed her tresses, dam for a river of ebony, the hair flowing round the face, framing her youthful beauty.

He eyed her. “You cannot leave it open, even for a minute. This place has to stay a secret. You promised, remember?”

Her eyes widened, and she nodded, pupils shimmering, reflecting lamp light.

“You’ve been down here a few moons and I still have to explain these things to you.”

Jestea said nothing; she only bowed her head. Her slender hands assisted Telkas as best they could as he rose and made his way back towards the edge.

Telkas tried to keep a stern face, but could not help the curl of a smile intruding on his lips. “I thought you were going to come here after lessons. We’d agreed on that.”

“I, the council men sent us away after they brought you in. I thought—.”

“Thought what?” He leaned on a boulder.

She looked up at him. “Well, the Jordanus doesn’t talk to people, not like that. I thought that something had…”

“Happened to me? It was nothing.” Telkas looked to the ground. Beneath his worn sandal was a pile of tiny crushed fragments that glittered in the fleeting light of the lamp. He wondered what it had once been.

“Sometimes I just think about what is out there. We have no idea how big it is, or what’s there. Nothing but our rules keeps us here.”

Jestea had been moving out into the darkness, staring into the shadows to adjust her eyes, but now she turned back towards him, her hair moving in the stale air. “Telkas,

You wouldn’t question the Jordanus? He has followed the ways of our people for longer than any of us. He knows more. It’s to keep us safe from the demons above. I could never break the rules.”

“Maybe. But I’m not going to worry about it. He was just angry with me. And

I’ve never seen a demon.” He stopped. “Have you brought it with you?”

She paused, looking up into his eyes, turned and scurried back to the doorway.

From outside the cave she produced a long piece of wood and dragged it to Telkas.

“Now, something is going to happen. “ He sat himself upon the plank, situating it perpendicular to the chasm. “Alright, now you sit next to me. We are going to use our weight to hold this side of the plank while we scoot it to the other edge. Then I should be able to cross.” They began to scoot, turning the board out over the edge, swinging the end from the left over. Telkas stopped abruptly, turning to face her.

“So, why are you so interested in the cavern? You’ve been down here for a while, it can’t be because you are bored.”

“I was. I mean, it’s something to do, studying this place. And we’ve been looking for a plank like this for weeks now. It was hard to find, and it keeps me, uh, busy—.”

He smiled, his teeth bright in the soft light. “You just said you couldn’t break the rules. So why did you steal this lumber?”

“Um, I— uh.” Her voice was light, like the tinkling of bells and the sound of water off rocks. Jestea looked into the dark again, and her gaze fell on the little failed models that he had constructed from the rubble. There must have been twenty of them, scattered in disrepair by the dusty wall. “I like the models. And one board is nothing, really…”

Telkas cocked his head at her, shrugged, and kept scooting. As he turned form her he couldn’t see the expression on her face fall. She couldn’t see his brighten.

Eventually the board reached the other side. He began to move across the board, overtop the crevice, using his hands to lift his body. “Careful!” She shouted. “If you fall

it will be hard to get you out! Maybe we should wait.” Telkas looked at her, and tossed

his stave to the other side.

“There’s no way I’m waiting. I’ve got to do this.” And he moved onward, the

plank bent low at the center until he reached the other side and dragged himself up.

Jestea, lamp in hand, walked herself across the plank gracefully. “I have waited for two

seasons. To be here.” Telkas grasped his thin beard, and grinned. His face was the

depiction of merriment, and he hobbled, legs tangled, forwards, Jestea rushing to catch up

and steady his wobbling frame.

“There has to be something here that will help us…” Telkas frowned. He moved first to a strange collapsed box. In it were corroded cogs and pieces of a brittle, light paneling. Telkas began to pick through the materials, and tried to decipher the strange symbols he found there.

Jestea knelt beside him. “But how can we find the food we need here? How can we eat this? There’s nothing here that hasn’t been devoured generations ago by scrits.”

She looked towards the passage beyond. “Can we find a new path through ancient tunnels?”

Telkas looked up from an oxidized part with a frown. “These people were brilliant. They lived above, in the air among creatures. They built these tunnels—I don’t know, to escape from storms or the destruction of the world, I’m not sure which. But I do know that they survived those catastrophes here, and we have followed that example. But we are not originally a race of the earth. I have breathed the air of the world, felt the distant brine and smell of salt on my face! The sea, the land, is our home, and if more of us spent time there we would know. Do we wonder why it is that the hunters, if they

aren’t killed first, live the longest of us all? It’s because they live in their natural element, and just like the fishes you harvest from the Cave Rivers and grottoes, we can’t live as long if we leave our natural place. The remnants of that upper life must be here, in this forgotten place. I don’t care what the Jordanus says. None of it can be true…” he shook his head. “It can’t.” Telkas breathed heavily.

Her eyes were wide, and a tear wetted the edge of her cheek. He realized that his hand gripped her wrist tightly, and he removed it at once and withdrew. “I am sorry if I hurt you. Whatever the elders have said, our reality is changing. The food leaves our caverns, the fish from our underground rivers and grottoes. Soon we may have to as well.” She nodded. “Maybe there is more through this doorway, this way Jestea.”

He tucked his stave under his arm and took her hand, this time gently, slightly leaning on her as they moved towards the passage. It was pitch black, the opening framed by thick, powerful beams of metal and stone.

Jestea found a curious tub full of dust and other ancient objects. Once such she used as a fastener for her hair when she discovered that by tiny hinges it would open to the size of her wrapped hair. Telkas moved to the back of the platform. There, near the wall, he cried out excitedly. “Jestea, bring the lamp!”

When she appeared, the flames alighted upon a faded piece of hardened rock, yet light passed through its darkened surface just so. Upon it were strange symbols, and a diagram depicting figures and blocks of stone. “This is a miracle! Jestea do you see what this is?” She looked at him strangely, running her hand across the ancient words. There was a symbol, curved, starting one direction, making a bend, and then turning back so

that the second arch ended pointing the opposite way from the first. The second was an

upside down arch. The third was two arches connected by a line.

Jestea looked at him, amazed. “But you can’t think that I read in the ancient tongue? It’s been dead for hundreds of years. I can read our letters—” Telkas shook his head furiously.

“No, the diagram! It’s showing how this place was built. See here, the men digging the tunnel from the surface down, and then placing the lowest stones for foundation? Then, here, their placing each higher stone slightly inward and so that it can support the one above it? And each layer, filled with sand until they could place the highest stones here? These stones support everything. This means that you can make a cave anywhere…” Through the smoky glass, the panel about waist-high, they could see the painted designs depicting the construction. “I always thought they had simply reinforced existing caves and tunnels. That’s why my models never held up. I didn’t build them this way.” Telkas smiled from ear to ear. He gazed into her face, and she mirrored it.

She looked at him. “You ask me why I come down here to you. This is why. Your excitement, your face as it is now. That’s what I’ve never seen before.” Telkas stopped smiling, and stared at her silently, mouth agape. She smiled wider and shuffled her feet through the dust. After a moment, Telkas was back, brushing it off.

“We have got to show this to the others. It means we could re-locate our city to a place without a hillside. They can still have their caves, and we won’t have to starve.”

Jestea’s eyes grew wider, her hand moved closer to his along the frame of the diagram. “Telkas, why does it have to be you? You have worked down here for almost a

year, cleaning off these—things—of the past, and learning. Isn’t that what you want?

Why risk angering the Jordanus again? Can’t you just be happy here? Surely others will

come to realize we need more food. They can’t just starve.”

Telkas withdrew his own hand. “I know I’m just a cripple.”

“That’s not what I meant.”Jestea lowered her head.

“I’ve been an outsider all my life. Who better to tell us how to think outside of the

caves? I won’t lead others away. But maybe they will listen and the people will choose

together. With these relics we can show them another world.”

“But, I thought you said that we couldn’t bring others down here.”

“We won’t. We don’t have to show them this place, just the panel. We can say we dug it up in one of the older passages.”

“Telkas, they might grow suspicious. Besides, how are we to get it across?”

Telkas laughed. “Why the board of course. It’s how we got here. I won’t let anything hinder me now. I can prove myself to the Jordanus and everyone else!” With some effort they were able to separate the display from its fasteners, which had all but rusted through. It suddenly dropped to the floor with a thud, its metal frame shaking.

“Careful! We cannot lose this. It’s the only chance we have to get them to believe us.”

With work they dragged it to the edge of the chasm. “Alright, this is the plan. You go across and I will slide it to you. Then I’ll come across when you’ve pulled it over.”

“But it will break! Remember your weight at the center?”

“Yes, but that weight was all in one place. This is spread over the whole plank. It won’t break.” She looked at him, unsure. “I promise.” Hesitating, she crossed the board with her lamp. Telkas gingerly lie onto the ground, and with his considerable arm

strength pushed the frame awkwardly onto the board. The board was wide enough that it

was reasonably easy to balance the slab on it, but when he had pushed it to his arm’s

length Jestea could not quite reach it.

Telkas sighed. “Oh, if I have to do it all myself…” he slid himself out onto the

board, which groaned, the fibers beginning to pop.

“No! You’ll fall with that heavy thing on top of you!”

“It will only be for a second.”

“No, Telkas, I’ll do it!”

The board broke. Telkas felt a brief weightlessness, felt the hard impact on his back, a crash above, the heavy impact on his skin and the dust obscuring the air around him. Coughing, he tried to wave his arms to clear it and found that one was pinned.

Jestea’s voice reached his ears. “Telkas can you hear me?” She held the lamp.

“Yes, yes.”

“You’re hurt.” He looked down. He was in the bottom of the trench. As the dust had cleared, he saw that bits of shard had cut him, and there was a piece sticking out of his leg. He pulled it out with his free arm but it didn’t bleed too much. The largest part of the frame and board had pinned him, along with some rubble which had slid on top of it, holding him in place. Telkas realized that the panel was destroyed, and his insides sank. He felt drained.

“I can’t move. Grab that piece of plank and see if you can lever it off of me.” She

dragged the fragment over towards him, the paths of tears drying on her face. He saw her,

upset, and tried to think of something to cheer her. “I guess I need to learn to be patient.”

That got her to smile a bit. Setting the board on a fulcrum of rock, she tried with all her might to free him. The edge of the frame slightly raised, then fell again, pinning him harder. “Damn! Watch it.”

“I can’t move you.” She sat upon the edge of a rock. “What shall we do? I can’t climb down to get you. I wouldn’t be able to lift that debris off of you.”

Telkas was silent for a moment.

“Would your Father help?” Jestea considered.

“Yes… he would. But he would be furious at me and would tell the others what you’ve done.”

More silence.

“Jestea, I need help. See if you can find your father.”

It was dark.

Jestea had been gone a long time. In the inky black around him Telkas could make out the faintest outlines of the forest of supports, the sides of the crevice. The true blackness was past that line. The glow from the now open entrance hid part of his body in shadow, and part of it shimmered with a slight radiance. The pieces of rocks and shards of glass were illuminated across their tops. It was like the sun shining through a cloud, incinerating the periphery with silver light. Telkas could see the smashed figures in each piece of the diagram staring at him. One particularly caught his eye. The man was standing atop what looked like a footwalk of some kind, like the ones that were used to reach the upper passages reserved for the ruling council. He looked to be directing the workforce that now lay in ruins, sundered from one another.

I am like the conductor, he thought. I must somehow figure out how to put us back to the way we were. A strong leader may remove fear. In the distance he heard a rustle.

Telkas grew very quiet. He felt a wet feeling soak into his back. He looked around, and saw to his left, at the lower end of the rubble, a pool of deep water had formed at the lowest level of the rocks. He couldn’t remember there ever being more than a little water there before. He dropped a small stone into it, watched it sink .

There was a scurrying, like tiny feet. He dropped the second stone he was holding. He strained to hear, trying to convince himself that it wasn’t a scrit, perhaps a hunter’s perus had ventured too far from home. As it drew closer he could hear the tiny scrapings, little claws scratching the cold surface with every step. Telkas tried not to breathe faster. The scrits lived mostly in the abandoned lower passages. They were smaller than people, maybe a bit bigger than a two-year-old. They were ravenous eaters, and the hunters sometimes had to venture into the older caverns to cull their numbers, for at times they would get brave and venture into the homes, eating foodstuffs and sometimes babies. It had been some time since they had been thinned out, and undoubtedly they were becoming bolder.

The scratching moved closer.

Telkas tried to shallow his breathing, make his breath slight. But he could hear the squeaking now, the sniffing as the creature blasted its nose against the surface, hunting.

He would normally be able to fight one off, but in his present pinned state, it could go for his neck…

A sharp, dark nose appeared, wreathed in light, at the precipice. The long snout slowly emerged, and then two ears, the blood veins within showing red, backlit and

menacing. Two dark eyes blinked, searching, and then locking on. The lips parted to

reveal fangs.

The scrit paused, sensing, sizing up its enemy. Telkas began to yell.

“Go on, get out of here!” it vanished from the edge, but in a few moments it

returned, peering at him with its swollen head. He waved his free arm, but it only

retreated a few inches. Then, it began to crawl over the wall, its fat body sliding and

scraping, claws stuck into the masonry.

It was somewhere in the rubble, towards his feet.

Telkas freed the shard of glass with the conductor’s image on it. He could hear it rustling now, less cautious, trying to find an opportunity to strike. He gripped the shard tightly.

To his left a screech, and then the animal was on him. He started to yell, slashing

furiously at the monster which grappled with him, trying to get a piece of his arm. He

lashed out, felt a contact, and the warm oozing of blood down his arm. He heard hurried

footsteps and a swinging light illuminated the cavern.

“Telkas?”

Jestea appeared by the edge, and a swarthy man, covered in dirt, stood beside her.

He held the lamp high, surveying the room about him. “Looks like that scrit almost had

you, boy. He’s a big one, too. Pity he didn’t make it.” Telkas looked into the man’s eyes.

They were squinted with fury. Jestea tried to move down the edge, but the man reached

out his thick arm, belting her across the head so hard that she fell back. “You’re in

enough trouble. Stay put.” He produced a long metal rod, threw it into the rubble, and

dangled by his arms from the side, before letting go. There wasn’t much of a drop for

him, and he set to work piling rubble to make a crude stairway. Jestea moved towards

him. Telkas could see that she had been crying.

“Father, please help him.”

“You be quiet. He’ll be free soon enough. Then he’ll have the Jordanus, and the judgment, to answer to. Telkas saw the man grip the steel bar in both hands. “You’re lucky boy that we have laws in this place. I’m half tempted to kill you myself. No one leads my daughter into danger, especially not a crippled tailoring wretch.” The bar slammed into the rubble beneath the beam and the rock. The digger began to pry.

###

There was a larger gathering in the main hall this time. Families were all around in a great circle and at its center was the Jordanus, on a pedestal of timber brought out to deal judgments. To his left, Jestea and her parents. Her father was grim, his face a block of stone like his quarry. Her mother was pale and thin, a fisherwoman, hair raven-dark, as her daughter’s. Standing on the Jordanus’s right was an older boy with a limp and a cane, bandaged yet standing as tall as he could manage.

“Here today, we have the result of disobedience.” The Jordanus raised both hands, twisted by age, to the vents and veiled sky beyond. “This very day, this boy has been warned again to stay within safe boundaries. Yet again he has failed to follow our warnings, venturing into ancient, collapsed, and unsafe passages. And for what?” The

Jordanus seized a shard of the diagram from atop his podium. “For dead words! For images of an ancient, destroyed world, in an ancient, destroyed cavern. What do you have to say for your actions?”

The boy looked up at his accuser. “I wish to speak.”

The Jordanus chuckled. “I suppose you wish to beg? The time for that is over.

You had a chance this very day to change your ways.”

“You said earlier this day that you loved all of the people, that you would try to understand them. I just want to, to be able to--.”

“The Jordanus raised a hand to silence him. “You’ve left us little choice. But if you should wish to plead your case, for your life, then it is of course our duty to listen.

Silas listens to all her sons and daughters, and each of them has an equal voice in our city.” Telkas lowered his head.

“I, and Jestea, discovered in the ancient cavern, one which has stood far longer than ours, a way to make caverns without mountains to dig in, in the very sand that we have been unable to use these many years. If you are in need of new tunnels, then I have here, in these shards, and in my mind, a way to create a new home for us, where we please, by food and timber--.”

“Enough! Your blasphemous words and phony ideas have cost enough already.”

The old man’s face was illuminated from beneath with the red coals in anger. “We live here in these walls because those storms may yet come again. No monster or beast can reach us here. How can you think to duplicate this haven, in your arrogance?”

“I don’t wish to do anything. I’m not a leader. But I also know that if we stay here, we will die slowly. Starve.”

The Jordanus watched the murmur of voices grow, a frown wrinkling his grizzled face. He raised his voice even more, jabbing a crooked finger towards Jestea. Through the hot air and swirling embers, her eyes shone, the reflected bits of flame and hot-white

fire danced over the brilliant blue, and long dark hair shifted, drifting across shoulders

and pure white skin.

“Look at the innocence you have dragged into these schemes with you. She could have been attacked by the scrit instead of you. Do you think she deserves your sentence?”

Telkas bowed his head. “She deserves none of it. All that she’s done is to help me realize what I wanted most.”

“To leave our world?”

“No. I—I wanted to learn something…”

“Louder, or don’t you have something you want?”

“I wanted friendship.” Jestea looked at him, her soft smile both sad and happy.

Telkas turned again to the Jordanus. “What, may I ask, is my future, that I chose?”

“If it is new lands you seek, then seek them and be gone from here forever. You are an affront to our way of life. Like your parents, who also chose to leave here.” The people gathered in the sanctuary murmured, questioning.

“People of Silas, I have today a terrible secret to impart.” Telkas’s face grew white. “I have heard of some others who, in their blasphemy, had thought to leave our world below. I have heard these words, these rumors, and I must tell you now something

I had hoped to keep from your hearts, to protect the great memories of those destroyed by it. The youth you see before you was orphaned, not by an act of the gods in the underground, but by the arrogance of his own parents.” The murmur grew to shocked voices. “Years ago, there was a great cave in. when this boy was young. Many of you remember it.” Heads nodded. “I too thought that it was an act of our gods, which they chose to take the lives of many into the spirit worlds. But I have since understood, from

their own mouths, that the parents of this boy deliberately created that disruption.” Telkas pulled against the restraining hand of the hunters.

“That’s not what you said!” the hunter covered Telkas’s mouth. The crowd burst into angry cries, the Jordanus raised his hands for silence.

“They believed that they had to leave our land for a new life in the outer world, and convinced many good Silaseans to follow them. They moved into the outer worlds after the commotion. Yet through the poisonous vapors and heat of this land, they were killed. They murdered those who trusted them.” Many in the crowd began to jeer at

Telkas. Sobs rang out in the stale air of the sanctuary.

The Jordanus began to pace. “I wanted to protect the memories of those good

Silaseans, that they might not be dishonored by their actions. They were confused by these malingerers, and, to my deep sorrow their boy has followed in their footsteps.”

Telkas was silent, his face grim. The Jordanus turned to Jestea and her family.

“You, young lady, are at the flowering of your life. You have been led astray, and your infraction is grievous. You must marry and start a family, with a man of our choosing.

Your fate is also your own doing. If you freely admit your error, and the poison of his thoughts, you may embrace your new life. But on our warning, for you must never transgress again. Do you agree?”

Jestea was quiet, her head down. She looked up at the Jordanus, his face lit from below by the red glow of the coals. She looked outward, to the faces beyond. Some were twisted in anger, some with pity. But none who looked upon her showed another, more desirable expression. She looked over across the podium at Telkas. There was a hardened

light in his eyes. When he caught her gaze, it softened into a sad smile. He nodded for her

to accept, and then looked away. She looked up into the old man’s eyes.

“I—I don’t want to marry.” Telkas turned to her in wonder. Her parents stepped back, afraid, looking to the Jordanus in disbelief. Her mother knelt beside Jestea.

“My daughter, please think, beg for pardon, and you may be saved yet! You can never leave these caverns. I hear that Ruk the head digger is looking for a wife. He is a good friend of your fathers.” Her mother looked to the Jordanus for approval. He seemed to be thinking; his hand rubbed his bare chin. Eventually he waved his hand.

“Girl you were warned, and as is custom, your actions only lead to your fate.

Your thoughts are revealed, and they cannot abide in this place. Get from our realm. Go with this troublemaker, he is your master now.”

###

They were cast out of the doorway, two packs of provisions thrown alongside. It seemed that Jestea had run out of tears. She sat in the dust, a sigh escaped her lips. “Is what he said, Telkas, is it…?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to lead anyone. I can’t remember my mother. My father. I can’t remember them…” He sank to the ground.

The two of them sat in the dust, a stone’s throw from the huge doorway leading

into the mountain. The doors slammed shut, the dust covered old timbers black with age.

Beyond, the white mountain extended, cascading upwards to far off peaks.

After some time, Telkas began to go through the provisions. He scratched his head. “There’s not much here. Only enough for a week or so.” She looked at him inquiringly.

“Telkas there’s only enough for a few days. How much do you eat?”

He stopped rustling in the pack, turned to her. “Jestea, do you really think the

Jordanus expects you to leave with me?” She was silent, and slightly amazed. “If I know him, he’s expecting you to go back. He’ll undoubtedly decide to welcome you back to show the people that he is merciful. It’s nothing to exile someone like me, but you… that’s different. Your mother was hysterical, at least, even if your father wasn’t.” He withdrew a small bundle of leather from his tunic, and began to fiddle with it.

“But, I—I don’t want to leave you… How will I ever go back? I don’t want to marry an old man.”

“Yes you do. You have a chance to go back. I never will. Do you really want to live out here with the Wildmen and animals? What about your demons?”

She watched the light slowly climb over the mountains. Her eyes, glassy with tears, reflected the moon and stars.

“I was outside, once. It was a long time ago. My father had been trying to repair a collapsed section of tunnel, and in one small place there was a hole. We lived near and once, as the sun had just gone down I climbed up through it. I felt the warmth of the ground, and the last beams of light. I’d never felt the air move, and blow before, and I let it wash over me. I have felt cold my whole life except for that day. My father yelled at me of course. Said that I’d be sorry if I ever disobeyed again. I think that’s why he didn’t fight the Jordanus more to help me. Everyone is so bound to the traditions.”

Telkas sighed, his chest rising and falling deeply. “I thought that I could help

them. I’m no leader. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone. Back in the cavern, the

scrit could have killed you. That would have been, could have been, my fault. I could

have killed you.” He looked over at her. “Do you understand? It could have been my fault.”

She stood, facing him, motionless.

“ I thought this whole time that I was going to create something, Jestea, to help.

But I can’t. Now, I finally realize that I was never meant to do anything for anyone. I’ll be only for myself.”

They were both silent, she lost in thought while his hands worked. They looked off into the distance. The sky became as red as coals in the corner, and slowly light began to filter into the vast darkness above the sea, tricking across the tops of the mountains and catching the edges of the many lakes between.

Jestea moved closer to Telkas, looking at him intently. He caught on, and returned the stare somewhat uncomfortably. “What you need to do is to plant within hearts that burning desire to discover, that longing intensity to explore the vastness of this upper world. I felt that way myself, seeing your creativity. I came to those caverns to watch you. You make things that have never been, or at least not in a great while. If I would never see that again I think I’d go mad. There’s nothing new down there.”

Telkas looked at her, eyes hurt. “Look, I’m pretty sure that the world down there would take you back if you, you know, did everything they asked. I’m not a leader anymore. I’m not anything. I’m just going to try to survive out here. If you want to come,

I—I won’t stop you either way. There are good things about that world below. There is family for you, and a chance to feel safe. It’s not safe out here. You’d never be safe, at least not for a while. I’m never going to try to change anything again. I—I won’t be responsible for any deaths. I can’t be... you must go.”

Jestea looked back towards the entrance for an eternity. Then she turned back to him. In her eyes Telkas saw a flickering doubt, pain, sadness. He took the second pack, and nodded to her. Jestea rose, and walked back towards the door to Silas. She turned to look at him, once more, before she knocked.

The dawn was brightening around him, catching the barren plains in a warm glow. He unfolded what he had been working on. It was a cap with two pieces of the smoky glass fitted into it, so that they would cover and shield his eyes. He shouldered the packs, took up his staff, and began his march towards the north and undiscovered country. In his free hand was the image of the conductor. He let it fall to the earth.

CHAPTER IV

EXODUS

There was a great, slow-moving creature, an entity all alone. It floated in the brilliant blue sky, gossamer and unreachable. He had seen them before, these things.

Their great forms dotted the sky, constantly moving, having the appearance of Scrack down. He had seen them only once before in the past, just before sundown when the

Hunters were not above yet. He’d never seen this; their fluffiness framed by the burning disk overhead. Telkas craned his neck backwards, shading the eyepieces of his cap. Even with them it had become hard to make out distant objects. He had to squint; too much and he wouldn’t be able to see through the dark glass, too little and his eyes would begin to hurt from the brilliance. He stuck his finger and waggled it along the inside of the glass: it had begun to fog up from his sweat.

When making the cap he had tried to select shards with as little etching as possible. Unfortunately, there were still tiny lines that crossed in certain parts of his field of vision. Frustrated, he stopped behind a large outcropping of speckled granite. He took off the cap and gloves, grabbing a shard out of his pack. He set the point of the shard along the etching intending to remove the white coloring from within the groove. He stared at the sharp point of glass in the etching.

A drop of sweat trailed down his hand, along the glass he was holding and diverted neatly into the miniature trough. He furrowed his brow. Offing the glass in one

hand he rubbed his chin. The cap and gloves returned to their places; the glass to its.

Regardless of his discomfort, the works of the ancients would be preserved as they were.

He moved on.

Soon the narrow valley began to open up. As it became still brighter the shadows shrank into the alcoves, and Telkas recognized the beginning of a great dusty plain.

Scrabbly grass, like that used in the bedding of lesser off Silaseans like himself, grew in dry patches, punctuated by larger shrubs with long, whip like branches. He drew close to the first of these and saw that there were alternating purple buds as long as his finger along their entirety. He pulled off his glove and crushed one in his hand. It smelled bitter, like some of the roots they collected in the higher passages. He cringed and continued on.

He hated those roots. He had some hanging on his pack, a depressing gift of nourishment from the Jordanus.

After leaving the large cliffs that nestled around the entrance to Silas, Telkas saw a large plain extending outward. At the edge of his sight he could see the land drop off.

This was where the acres of stumps began. Although he couldn’t quite make out the edge of the forest, he knew that somewhere in the vast dark blob beyond it began. Once,

Telkas could remember seeing the far distant sparkling blueness of the great sea. From up on the plateau, Silas looked out upon its beauty. But Telkas knew he could not go there.

He had to find a place where he could be sheltered from the monsters that lurked in the open places of the world during the day.

He resolved to make his way along the edge of the cliffs northward. To the south; just a mix of brush and winding rock valleys descended to the water, which was closer to

Silas from the south than from beyond the great forest to the east. There really was no

direction to go other than northward. There the forest met with the mountains and the

land continued out of the reach of their loggers, endlessly, some hunters said. There he

might find a cave, hopefully without occupants, where he could be safe and still close to a source of food. Maybe there would even be people.

He started along the edge of the mountains, trying to walk under the shade of the

rocks whenever he could. The granite projected at a sharp angle from the ground, as if the

entire ridge had been pushed up from beneath the surface by an enormous hand. There

were many layers in it; and Telkas stopped occasionally to pick at the sides. There was

one layer that was strangest to him. It consisted of tiny brittle fragments, parched white

no doubt from the fierce sun that flaked at the slightest touch. That layer dissolved faster

than those around it, receding deep into the layers of the cliff side, small piles of the

material littering the ground wherever it appeared.

Telkas put his hand into the side of the mountain, drawing out a fist-full of material. Behind it was a flattened, oblong object, deep green in color. He remembered the leaves of the pine trees brought back by the harvesters, dark and fresh. They burnt them in the central hall during festivals, the thick smoke tingling the inside of his nose with a fresh pine smell. He pulled the object out. It was about half the length of his forearm, and it was made of the same shiny clear substance that his eyepieces had been, except it was green instead of gray. He brushed it off. It was hollow, and looked to have been a cylinder at some time in its life, with one end larger and closed off, and the other opened at a small rounded point. Some great pressure had pushed it in at the center however. Telkas marveled at what heat could have warped this material. Surely it was an artifact from the ancient times. Only they could possess the forces capable.

The heat from the sun was intense. His garments clung to his body with sweat, his cap felt glued to his skull. He squeezed some water from his waterskin, felt the coolness drain into the back of his mouth. At this rate he was never going to get anywhere, taking so many breaks. But the Jordanus had been half right about that sun; it didn’t literally burn one alive, but rather cooked you to death over time. He set the artifact in his pack.

He dragged himself a bit further. There were more trees as he went further downwards. He could see them spreading thickly over the broad plain below. Around a large outcropping, just as the plateau began to slope slightly downwards like a great ramp, Telkas found a tree. It was thick, and stunted. It looked like a very old man, he thought, twisting its branches around as if shielding itself from the sun too. Its trunk bowed towards him, great roots projecting like feet out to support its tottering crown.

Telkas bowed in return. “I’ll take your shade, old one, since you offer it so nicely.” He laughed to himself, making his way between two of the great feet. They projected upwards, making a small divided area just large enough to fit him. Telkas curled up beneath the feet of the tree, trying to make himself comfortably wedged in the roots. As the day became hotter, he settled, his eyes beginning to droop.

Swirling shadows and flashes of light. He remembered heat, then cold. Feelings raced through his consciousness, feelings of being alone, of being wronged. A sharp pain flared, he knew it was his leg. He gripped for it in the dark, but had no arms. Where was his staff? Telkas began to fall, turning, tumbling into nothing. He was in a dimly lit room.

He heard a laugh, a glimpse of a woman, twirling, her homemade dress and light hair flaring out. He remembered that sound, heard her voice, felt her safety. “Remember the sun. It’s in all of us, for my grandmother reminded me…”

Darkness crept around his sight, twirling tendrils about the corners and pushing him from the room. “As long as you love, as long as you live, you will carry the sun too.”

He couldn’t see. Couldn’t move. His mother was gone. Through the nothingness he cried, calling her name. He felt heat, a hard, pebbled surface against his body, the musty smell of dirt.

***

Telkas awoke with his face pressed upon the warm earth. He exhaled, sending a tiny cloud of dust skyward. “Maybe it will block out some of this damned heat.” He smiled, even though he was still alone. The smile left his face.. He rolled over, hands extended, and yelled into the thin air.

“Gods, why send me on a trip to the dream world? Why taunt me?” And the answer that came through his mind was simple.

So he wouldn’t be alone.

He lifted his head, the rest of his body emerging from the cool earth covered in the tree’s shadow to the hard layers baked by the sun. Its disk had begun to sink below the highest point. He looked through his goggles and saw the heat rising from atop the layer of plant matter, distorting his vision of the more distant features. To the east was the great expanse of the sea, harder to make out now as he was closer to its elevation. Behind him he saw the sky darkening, a curious blackness in the floating masses that covered the sky. It covered the tops of the mountains that he craned his neck to see. He crawled forward, out of the shadow. His leg had never felt as bad as it did at that moment; aches wracked the knee, the weak muscles pulling at the connections of his bones, twisting,

turning about under his flesh like eels from the river Rundr. He grimaced, rubbing his leg

and rolling into a sitting position.

There was little in the way of landmarks around him. He raised his hand to shield

his eyes, again peering to the north. There was the faintest outline of a dark shape at the

edges of the thickets around him. He had walked almost a half-day’s march from Silas, and the fields were beginning to grow thick with trees. The harvesters always made sure they were close enough to do their work and return within the day. Telkas broke some of his rations out: Silasean flatbread, made from all manners of things, the two skin flasks of water, dried fish, and a few strips of dried scrit meat. He made the best of what he had, consuming little of the water. Finding a new source was his first priority. Scanning the distance, he looked for a section that was more lushly vegetated.

It was a long, low plain of land. The growths were twisted and woven like a shawl, and Telkas could barely make out anything in between. In tiny slivers of light, like gashes in the matted plants, Telkas could see glinting silvery masses. They gathered in one place, dotting like bits of glass, beginning at the waterfall far to his north. Telkas realized that they must be water seen from afar.

The air began to cool as Telkas moved away from the great tree and down into the lowlands. As he limped further out into the open plains, he watched a great sheet of dark billowy masses extend over the top of the western mountains. Flashes of brilliant light punctuated their outlines haphazardly, cutting them in two, lighting the void within them for terrifying instants. The sky was not visible past them, and every few minutes he looked to his left, worrying, wondering if they would extend over his head. He longed for the safety of the roof of a cave.

Telkas heard a crash, an unearthly sound that shook him to his core, and then a

bright flash of light as before. The boom faded into the air. He thought of his plans, of the

structures that he meant to build. If he ever got the chance, he would make them so that

these sounds wouldn’t come through, just like the deep caverns of Silas. Maybe the

Jordanus was right. Maybe there was no way to make another Silas.

Trying to shake the thought from his head, he tried to put his mind on the task at

hand. Telkas knew that there would be a chance at finding some water if he continued

onwards. He travelled on for hours, laboriously making his way down the long low

descent, his hands moving often to his leg, trying to quell the dull throbbing with

pressure.

He stopped periodically as the branches closed in more and more around him to

rub and pull at the pain. He couldn’t remember ever walking so far. The ground became

sticky, like the damp, moldy smelling clay at the banks of the Rundr. It stuck to his

sandals, chilling his toes and making his feet heavy. The branches around him became

more twisted, the leaves smaller and a darker shade of red. Telkas noticed his feet sink a

bit more; his staff began to make a slurping sound as he pulled it upwards. He began to

put less weight on it.

He looked upwards; the darkness had passed over him, and as he watched the booming tongues of light descended upon him. He saw one touch the earth not far away, and it rocked beneath him. He pressed his hands to his ears, and cowered upon the earth.

Something wet hit his nose. Someone invisible began to pour, no, flick, enormous drops of water. He looked around, seeing his clothes become damp, watching it cool off the land. Ahead, huge tracks of smoke began to emerge from the tangled thickets. The

ground became soupy. Another booming crash; the sky lit up. He saw his hands alight for

a moment; they looked red, cooked from the sun’s harshness. The water was falling faster

now; heavier. Craning his neck back, he saw the drops spaced evenly, their paths

receding upwards into the air until they disappeared. His eyes opened wide, the water splashed on his cap, wetting his goggles. He squinted, understanding that the water came from the dark masses in the sky. He would have to move out of it and wait for them to pass by if he didn’t want to get completely soaked.

He slogged through the mire over to the overhang of a large shrub, which smelt damp, like mould, but mixed with the sour smell of the buds that it carried. It made him sick, and a shiver passed through his body. Telkas had been too hot the entire day, but now the chill of the water was freezing. He thought of the warmth of the central brazier in the halls of Silas. It was always the same temperature. There was so much change in this outer world, so many things that fluctuated. A person could die quickly here. He could

die. And no one would find him in this stinking land. Telkas felt his eyes well up, and he

knew that under the mask he had begun to cry. The goggles began to fog up and he

removed them. He covered his nose, and drew the tattered blanket out of the straps on the

outside of his pack. It was cold, covered in mud. He placed the cap over his face.

He didn’t know how long he slept.

The air was thick with water; it was viscous as he drew breaths through his nose,

but he heard no patter or splash of falling drops, heard no crashing, saw no flash. There

was a rotting smell; the air was porous, it held the scent of corpses, like the den of a Scrit,

or... Telkas leaned against the winding, twisted trunk rising from the sludge, the one on

which he had slept. He would have thought the water falling from the sky would have

rinsed the nasty smells from the land; but it had only seemed to uncover them. He

thought that it must come from deep within the earth here, something to be uncovered by

such a terrible flash of elements.

In the distance he saw smoke rising from many places in the land. It was, and it

wasn’t like smoke. He rubbed his eye with one hand, head beginning to hurt. He

remembered a smell sort of like this, a long while ago, when he was young. He remembered his father.

He remembered, thought back. He had been very young when his father disappeared. He remembered his father’s arms, round, thick, the muscles shifting beneath the surface as he moved, the light hairs covering it thickly. Light, light skin. Like his

own.

His Father maintained the wind shafts that moved air through Silas. One time,

Telkas went along, too. His father sent him up into the small maintenance cavern first.

They had to move along a tiny, narrow passage, which became nearly vertical, requiring

them to grab onto dirty holes in the side of the rock, just large enough to place your foot

inside of. Telkas remembered the smell of grease. It was thick, animal, rotten. Like the

land around him now.

At the end of that tunnel, there was a large cavern. His father warned him to stay

down, but Telkas looked about. There was a system of gears and wooden cogs in the

center of the room and an enormous post rising from its center. His father emerged from

the hole.

“Telkas, watch out!”

He remembered being dragged roughly downwards, and being met with a blast of air. As he lay on the sandstone floor, Telkas watched an enormous square of animal skins, stretched on a wooden frame, turn about like a giant fan. He’d just missed getting crushed by it. He remembered his father’s strength. And the smell of the grease, the product of animals, slicking every interlocking part, every bit…

Telkas sat down suddenly. His feet felt heavy, more than from the mud. He was tired, his eyes drooped. He sank his hand into the cool muck, felt it squeeze between his fingers, the smell unlocked, raising to his nostrils.

A strong hissing broke his thoughts; he looked to his right and noticed that smoke, no, steam, was rising from a pool of filth in the earth. Bubbles in the black, tar-like puddle were releasing it, and it seemed to be the source of the smell. It was barely an arm’s length away. It was getting dark to the point that even his eyes couldn’t see well.

Fear panged into his heart and he looked skywards. But the tempest had not returned. It sat past him towards the mountains, crowding against the summits, squatting like a monster. He saw that the sky itself was darker, that the light had begun to fade. Or was it that he had gotten used to the light?

The intermittent spitting of fog gradually changed to a constant haze of ether. The trails wound out of the dark morass, intertwining, weaving, complicating. Their trails bent the images they veiled, blocking and warping his vision of the dark foliage beyond.

It made the small trees dance and switch angrily, first slowly, but at a gust of wind they would lash out angrily, their purple buds now more like blood in the twilight, sharp, whipping, dripping with deep red. Telkas wondered aloud.

“Gods, are they bleeding?” a second gust whipped the trails back towards him; a

warm, heavy odor caught his face, making him turn to the side and grimace. He opened

his eyes.

In the center of the trail of steam he caught a flash of light, a light color that

reminded him of dried grasses. The object solidified, and Telkas moved backward,

recoiling. It couldn’t be.

The image of his mother, her bright, long hair, and wavering eyes, stared back at

him through the haze. She opened her mouth; Telkas imagined her smiling. He couldn’t

make out any other part of her but her face, but he remembered her too. He remembered

how soft her skin was, her warmth. He remembered her talking, about… what was it? He

saw her image, heard her make a sound. What did her voice sound like? He couldn’t

remember. Telkas lay his head down on the log, facing her image, wobbling, watching

her sad smile. His mind began to drift into the vagueness.

“You are sunlight!”

“What is a sunlight?” the child’s hand reaches upwards, towards the mother’s face. Her blue eyes reflected the fire in the deep blackness, her hair whipped in the warm air.

“It’s something that the things around it hold; it’s a little spark of the sun, of life.

From that light, the things, little things, the stones, plants, animals, all are given a piece of it. That’s sunlight.”

“I don’t have it then?” The boy asked. She was silent for a while. She held the boy in her arms.

“Yes you have. You see this?” she pointed a long, snow-white finger to her lips,

which parted, revealing her teeth. The boy smiled in return, and nodded. “That’s sunlight.

And even though you have never seen the sun, we carry the sun within us. Our ancestors saw it, they lived under it. It used to be allowed, long ago. And, even though you haven’t been under it, I carry some of the sunshine in me, because those that have seen it pass it along. My mother, hers before her, and on and on.” She kissed the boy’s forehead. “And even though it can’t reach down here to give it to you, I can because there will always be a little of it in us.”

Telkas moved through the haze, but the wind shifted, pulling the wafting cords of mist away and then sharply back. He felt cold, the night air chilling his skin, making his leg hurt. From the side of a long, straight white pillar of steam emerged a long, withered arm. It was the Jordanus, but his face, almost always covered by a long hood, was a nightmarish parody of itself. The wrinkles were deep gashes, leaving sharp shadows and dark angles that widened when they reached the corners of his mouth, curved into a smile.

It was the lunar equinox, the darkest time in the night of the upper world, a time of great harvest. The moon was dark through the viewing hole in the roof of the cavern.

Usually shut, it was opened to reveal a dark sky, moonless, and the festival tables were set out in a wide circle in the great sanctuary of Silas. The flames from the central pylon leapt towards the ceiling vents, slicing through the shadows, alighting momentarily on darkened forms, showing glimpses of penitent faces in the crowd beyond. The Jordanus was there, raised above the others, dark eyes glowing from the reflected whip of flames.

“Today we celebrate our safety, Silas. We carry on the traditions, and the laws, of

the past. They keep us safe and whole.” The denizens raised their wooden mugs. “Bow to

the gods, to the ancients, and to our ancestors. We have to carry on, with what has

worked, with the only path. We see truth, justice, and clarity here in the earth. We see the

right path…”

From the swirling trails of smoke, Telkas watched the image of his mother

appear. Her face was sad. “Rise, my dear. Don’t fall into the nothingness. You are my

son, and you are on a journey that has been started before, one that you must finish for all

of us.”

Telkas felt the warmth of the smoke trails envelop him, imbuing him with their

woody essence, the burnt wholesome smell of the pyre. The flow of the air in the feasting

cavern gusted, very unusual for the regulated air system. There, in the swirls of dark

smoke, the tresses of night-dark hair appeared, framing an emerging face, growing full with ripening beauty.

Jestea.

She was beneath the caverns of Silas, in the Grottoes where they raised the schools of fish. Her lantern flickered as she stepped smoothly down the stairs of Silas, in the iridescent perpetual green twilight let out by the crystals glowing in the halls. The stairs she trod led down the side of the cave wall, where streamers of the glowing stone’s light played, mixing with reflections of the water’s surface, shimmering. She walked, bare foot, feet making no sound against the etched lines of glowstone on the rock below.

The stairs led out onto a huge, flat cavern. The floor was sloped, and an underground river, the Rundr, exited from a passage at its highest point. From there it slowly filtered

into a series of pools with raised walls dividing them, terraced, until they let out into the continuation of the river at the lower point. Silvery flashes of blind fish whipped and danced in the faint light of the crystals; and lunar skinned women lithely slipped between them; balancing on the edges of the pools, letting the water pour over the lips of stone, over their feet. Jestea moved out to join them, moving quickly, agilely, along a narrow bank of stone. She stopped, and turned. He saw into her eyes; saw her lean reflection, the curves of her legs, and the deepness of her hair, in the water below. She opened her mouth. “Telkas, follow the road before you. “I will need you before the end. Get up…”

She dipped her hand into the pool, and tiny fish circled it, moving swiftly through the water.

It turned foul, putrid. His eyes opened.

He was still rooted in the muck. The tendrils of steam had faded somewhat, and

Telkas craned back his neck, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. The stars were overhead. He wasn’t sure at first, but realized that he must have been out for some time.

The shrubs around him were dark, their tendrils lazily shifting through the weak breath of wind. He couldn’t begin to understand the things he had just seen. Images of his mother, of Jestea, flickered through his mind. What was the meaning of this riddle?

He raised himself up; and looked up beyond the branches, mouth agape. There were Millions of twinkling points, of stars, covering the vast expanse of sky, now deep and dark like the pools in the Grottoes of Rundr. There was no end, no bottom, to the sky that night. Through the scattered veil of brilliant points, or perhaps before it, past the bushes, he could see intangible trails of the steam vents dotting the silent landscape, twisting their ethereal fingers upward, outward, towards the sky. She had been right. If he

had let himself stay there, on the ground, he would have never risen from his place. There

were dangers in this land that even the Jordanus had not imagined.

Telkas began to plod through the morass, carefully moving around the vapors. He

had to find the source of water, the high river that he had seen from afar. Then, perhaps

he could follow it, get out of this mad place. Time and again he thought he saw a shape, the glimmer of an outline, shadows, and the flicker of a distant light. He had to listen to his mother. The pull became greater. He could see the light, distant, wavering through the thickets. It glowed, a tiny point, warmer and more like the sun than the icy scattering of stars. He saw it glimmer.

He pushed through the thicket; and on the other side was a small ravine, from the

base of which bubbled innumerable trails of vapor. He stopped, turned to go around. A

trail of the mist blew across his face all at once; he tried to turn away, felt the pull of

hands at his side. Thousands of tiny pulls and touches, rough grips against his arms, legs,

tiny bone needles entering his skin, stabbing, searching. Telkas raised his hands, dropping

his staff, waving defensively, trying to stay safe. He looked down and the earth opened.

He saw fields of burnt shrub, of sharpened staves. There were bodies, burnt, their ribs

bursting through rough crackled black skin. Spears propped them up, held them in place,

their lifeless eyes open, their dead fingers stripped, extended as if they still crawled for

safety, in fear. Extending to him, pleading with him, begging. The earth was black

beneath them. The sun burned overhead. He saw their crackled lips, dry, whispering for

help.

Telkas turned and moved, trying to run but hobbling, waving his hands, trying to

clear the air in front of his face. He dropped his pack, left it to the burning masses.

He looked up, noticing a dim light brightening over the distant sea. As he walked,

he leaned heavily on his good leg, all the while struggling to lift it from the sucking

muck. And then, suddenly, it was easy to step. Telkas looked down.

A series of smooth, polished stones, with weeds and grasses sticking between

them, covered the ground moving from his left, to his right. He moved onto the strange

formation. It wound through the mire, and in the brightening light, he saw that it was on a

raised bed throughout most of its length. This was obviously something created by man.

As his torn and caked sandals rubbed across the smooth surface, a brightness caught his

eyes. He fumbled for his cap, finding it stuck in his belt. As he reached to place it on his

head, he saw the source of the brilliance.

A tiny sliver, too intense to behold, crowned over the distant water. Surrounding it’s scorching edge, all of the sky was lit with colors Telkas could not describe. He felt them, saw their warm, graded glow, like coals at the edge of a fire, getting hotter the closer to the sun’s disk, and slowly fading out into the dark colors of night. As he stared, for some time, he watched the fiery mass, the golden billowy masses of the sky chasing the darkness, rubbing out the twinkling lights. He watched them recede slowly across the enormous expanse above.

The brightening light was not yet as intense on the ground, although it lit the tops

of the foliage. He watched the series of stones extend outward, towards the water.

Close to the ridge that continued westward, and from which he had come, he

noticed a darker line that descended along it into the scrub below. He stood for a better

view. The line shifted back and forth, crawling with the wind along the cliff face. He

followed it upwards and saw with surprise that it continued into the sky.

It was a line of smoke.

At first, he thought it might be another part of the mire, but the smoke was darker, and from the flickering light, and the brightening pre-dawn he could see soot staining the cliff face. Surely it was a fire of the Wildman. He had no pack, and wouldn’t risk going back through the mists, and now was certain to die without some kind of help. Leaving the flat pathway behind (he made sure to try to remember its location to explore it later on) it took several hours for him to make his way back to the cliff face. Again he moved along it, looking at the shredded layer of bleached material which followed, pointing out his path.

Through the thicket of trees, gnarled and twisted, these possessing canopies covered in dark green leaves and tipped with purple, he began to hear the voices, the rhythm of many, humming, chanting. In the shadow of the cliff the light from many fires glimmered, making the dark edges dance. Telkas knelt in the dark earth. It was similar to what he remembered in Silas, not parched and cracked like the earth on the plains. This earth was fresh and damp, almost like it had been freshly turned. He let the soil run through his hands.

Through the chorus of sonorous voices cut a scream. Telkas flattened himself onto his back, hugging the patch of shadow beneath the shrub. The call was drawn out for minutes that seemed ages. He couldn’t believe that the call continued for as long as it had, and the chanting grew louder around it as, rising all the while, it filled the air. When it finally died off he was on his knees, peering through parted branches.

The arch of stone covered the recess like the hood of a cobra, its edge shading the

blaze beneath. Soot had blackened the face of the cliff above leaving a layered trail

behind.

In a flash, Telkas saw a pile of fiery embers flare from the interior of the cave.

Out came the dark-skinned men, dressed in animal skins scraped clean. Their leathers

were tasseled with what looked like the tails of reptiles all along the fringes. Their feet

were dark and bare with the same dark earth at Telkas’s feet, and they trod upon the

glowing coals scattered upon the ground without flinching. They were not dancing, or at

least not in the rhythmic manner that he remembered from the festivals in Silas. They moved erratically, facing the rising fiery wreath of the sun. There were a half dozen of them, sweeping their bodies around and shifting their weight, arms at an angle, stuck out from their sides.

The men began to kick the dying coals away, rubbing them out with their feet and hands. From the cave a man emerged, dressed as the others, with long hair as well, except that he had a longer leather shirt, dyed a bright blue. He began to speak, in the broken language of the Wildman.

“Ear, Land that brought forth the fires, take back that fire, taken by the ancients.

Let us give it back to you.” He produced a wooden bowl filled with ashes and tiny shining fragments from a pouch at his side. “This, most needed, hard found, from the ancients, we give back to you to remember where they got their power. We will complete the cycle which was broken.” The other men who surrounded him began now to chant, a melodious, sweet sound. In the deep chanting he thought he heard the noise of a flute, and then a faint rumbling.

Their leader walked, feet stepping firmly at each movement, over to a small pile

of stone. The men, still chanting, moved before him to a great stone atop the pile. Their

dark hands gripped it and, struggling, moved it aside like a great coffer lid. From the pouch, the blue man lifted another warped container similar to the one he had found earlier. Telkas moved through the brush, getting close enough to see that the stone slab had markings carved on it, probably in their form of language.

“To the Earth, we give this, what the old ones made. They took too much from you, so we return this part.” He bowed his head, setting the object atop the pile of stone.

Telkas craned his neck, trying to get a better look at it.

The leader lifted a rock and crushed the artifact. Telkas covered his mouth to keep from making sound. “We give back this creation, broken back to this parts, like that was taken, Earth.” He brushed the fragments into the hole. The men bowed in reverence, and replaced the cover over the shattered object. They all then seemed to visibly relax.

Shoulders lost their tension, the formality nearly disappeared. They walked leisurely back to the cave, some with hands at their sides. Some of the men stopped to put a salve on their feet, which they carried in their pouches. Others wrapped them with leather.

He waited until they had gone, and slipped from the brush. In the brightening light he scrambled to the top of the pile of rocks. He could see the glow of fires within the cave, heard voices laughing and men talking.

On the area where the object had been destroyed Telkas found some type of dust or sandy crumblings, obviously pulverized pieces of the artifact. He examined the grainy substance, which caught the light, repeated it, and made it brighter.

His eyes lowered in sadness. How many of those objects were actually left in the

world? And then a thought occurred to him. How many more did they have in that cave?

Telkas crept off of the pile, stashing his pack in the brush. Then he moved towards the

entrance, trying to keep the tapping of his staff to a minimum.

The shadows of the rubble left on the ground from the embers stretched long, and

Telkas stumbled between them, struggling to move silently as he moved up to the lip of

the cave. It was a shallow cave, and as he peered around the edge of the wall. The

passage swept backward, its soot stained walls arching around, craning leftwards like the

neck of a scrack.

He hesitated. It would be dangerous. But he had little choice. His mouth was dry,

and he had to find some kind of food. It wouldn’t hurt to check out the situation, at any

rate. If it looked bad he would run before they noticed his presence. Telkas moved

beyond the entrance.

The interior was lit with cay lamps set into the roughly hewn walls of rock. Telkas

could see that some crude tool had made hatch marks all along the sandy rock. Leaning

on his stick, he hobbled to what looked like a larger, darker chamber. Carefully staying to

the edge, he peered into the void.

The wildmen were eating a meal; some sort of meat dish that he wasn’t familiar with. It looked to be picked from the bone and boiled in earthen pots. The Wildman picked at the same pots, grabbing the meat with their fingers. They were talking in low voices, gathered around a raised mound of earth in the center of the room, which was roughly cut like the walls of the entry way. The man with the blue shirt uncovered a smoking metal hood from its center; Telkas realized that it was covering a fire. The light

brightened in the room, and as he saw it flicker, it glinted off of the surface of hundreds

of strange objects stuck in and around the walls, in piles and on crude timber shelving.

There were clear containers, some un-warped, and some shattered. There were all shapes and sizes, most were green and brown, but there were other colors as well. Telkas opened his eyes widely, stepping back. He moved his new stick backwards, and as he did it knocked one of the lamps from the wall. It fell to the earth with a shatter. Five pairs of eyes turned towards him.

Telkas turned to run, skipping as best he could over the burning animal fat spilled from the lamp. In an instant, he felt pressure on his shoulder and was tumbled onto his back. The man with the blue shirt had leapt from the mound and tackled him with amazing speed. Telkas yelled, swinging his stick at the man, who quickly grabbed it, twisting and removing it from his grip in one motion. The man grabbed at his face, pulling off his cap and pulling a large blade from his side. Telkas swung his fist; the

Wildman caught it, threw it aside, and poised the knife to strike. Telkas closed his eyes.

Nothing happened.

He looked up to see that the man, still holding him down, was examining the

lenses of his cap. “Ancients.” He said, lifting his knee from Telkas’s chest.

CHAPTER V

ENCOUNTER

Telkas watched, motionless, the patchy lamplight grazing his face, half illuminating the pieces of glass affixed to his leather cap. The sinewy man raised his leggings, which were baggy at the top, and squatted next to him. He was sitting in such a way that the lamps that were not broken illuminated only part of his face; Telkas could see clearly the deep ridge of his brow, the nose creating an absence of light that darkened the right side of the man’s face like the socket of an empty skull.

The man brought Telkas’s long stick swiftly down towards the boy, and Telkas rolled instinctively to his left, curling and kicking with his good leg, deflecting the blow.

As it hit the earth, the boy saw that it had not been meant to land on him, perhaps just to startle him. He sat up, hand gripping the end of the branch.

“What do you want, wild man? I have no fight with you.” There was a strange wheezing sound, a whining, repetitious sound, like blowing the air through a flute in and out repeatedly. Telkas realized that they were laughing softly. A hand from the man in the blue shirt quieted them. He brought his hand to the bottom of his throat. Telkas saw that the loose garment was tied half way up his torso with some sinew or leather cord.

“I am called Fewald.” The man moved his head into the light, looking towards the boy, his neck craning slightly forward. “We are the protectors of these wonders of the ancient ones, boy. We come from the shy side of the rising sun, to this way.” Telkas saw 65

that he was pointing to the North, and realized the Wildman saw direction differently

than Silaseans did. “What are you called, young one?”

“My name is Telkas.”

“And you are Silas?” Telkas hesitated a moment. The Wildman were said to eat Silesians, even the strong hunters were sometimes caught by them, their bones found in the wastes about the entrances to the caverns. There wasn’t much he could do about that, now. He nodded.

Fewald lowered his head, bringing his hand to rub the cleanly-shaven skin beneath his chin. And why would a digger hold such things in his possession? The

Wildman pointed to the cap, lying on the floor of the cavern.

Telkas shook his head. “What do you mean?”

One of the men at Fewald’s back rose in anger. “We see the men of Silas destroy the works of the elders, boy. We have watched them mash, and crush. There is a great pile in the hills, behind your cave that grows bigger every moon.” At a motion of his hand,

Fewald bade him be silent.

“Boy Telkas, we have seen many works of the old ones crushed with anger at your city.” Telkas unconsciously gripped for his cap.

“It’s not true. The Jordanus reveres the works of the ancients. He may be other things, but That wouldn’t happen. In any case, I saw you crush one yourselves just a bit ago, outside at that large stone. Can you explain that?” Again, the wheezing laughter.

“Young one, as we revere the ancients, we also revere the Kaleah, the cycle.”

Fewald sat down nearer to Telkas, and the boy saw that he wasn’t very much older than himself. Telkas wondered what a troop of men would be doing under the command of a

young man. “Telkas, the ancients are to be revered”— “Beyond revered” said another

man. “Yes, revered beyond revered. But they also destroyed the spirits of Earth. They took too greedily, too much from them. And so they were taken back into the Earth from which all of this came. They were wiped from the surface of Earth, into the seas. This is why, Telkas, we return some of these to the Kaleah, and the Earth. We search for treasures, but some of what we find must go back into the deeps.” Fewald reached for the cap. “I have never seen such a relic before, Telkas. What manner of ancient treasure is this?”

Telkas drew the cap away from the Wildman. “I don’t know. It was a part of a

large underground cavern, made by the ancient ones. There was a large slate of this

material, and…” Telkas began to remember the Jordanus’s words, saw his face throw

down the shards of the large plate with disrespect, how he had been cast out for the love

of these ancient pieces of another world. He realized that the Wildman may not be as

wrong as he thought about Silas.

Looking up Telkas realized that there were expectant faces looking at him. “I’ve

been searching through this place for some time.” Fewald’s eyes widened.

“Boy, you have seen a great cavern of the ancients? Tell us about it.”

Telkas described his discovery; the sheet of worked ore that lead to the cavern, the forest of columns, the strange parallel lines of ore in the trench. The traversing of the gap, and Jestea. For the first time in a while his thoughts went back to her. He wondered if she was alright. If she would really marry the old councilman.

The Wildman began to move closer, and as he was speaking Telkas realized they were all intensely interested in his story. Fewald began to ask question after question

about the caverns, what they were for, what kind of relics he had. To almost every

question Telkas had to reply, no, or he didn’t know.

Then came the inevitable question. Fewald looked straight into his eyes.

Returning the stare, Telkas saw that the eyes were bronze, almost reflective in the

dimness of the cave. “Why are you here, boy? With your crippled leg, and these artifacts?

What have you done to need to leave your home?”

Telkas gripped his stick. “Always to the point, aren’t you?”

Fewald crossed his arms. Telkas breathed in the damp air of the cave; it had

begun to help his nose which had not been used to the dust and dryness of the surface

world. He rubbed it, and tried to stand.

In an instant, Telkas was back on the ground; Fewald had turned swiftly, lifted his leg about and struck him square in the chest. Telkas cried out in pain, his hand lowered to

his injured leg.

“Boy, I see that you are no hunter of Silas. I do not fear you or any other of that

under city, but I will have my answers. I see you care for the artifacts.” He wrested the

stick from Telkas again; this time with a neat motion snagging the cap with its eyepieces.

Telkas tried to snare it in vain, twisting his arm after it. “I know, boy, that you want this. I will find out why you are here.”

Telkas scooted backwards against the wall, his hair just long enough to get into his eyes.

“Fewald, I have no fight with you, as I said before. I am what you’ve imagined. I

care for these things.” His lip began to quiver, slightly, but as soon as it had began Telkas

snapped it straight and faced the man in front of him. “I was—exiled. From my home. I

came here from Silas, over the last few cycles of the sun’s rising. I came here, to your cave, because I saw your ceremony, saw the relics you carried. I don’t know why. It’s not my way to deal with people through violence, Fewald. I can’t stop you; I’m lame. But I would rather live around people, learn from them, than hurt them.” Fewald sat back onto the ground, crossing his legs. In the silence, Telkas could hear drips of condensation coming from the depths of the cave beyond his sight. His breathing, fast and hard, made it difficult to hear. Blood coursed through his veins, and his bent leg throbbed; he could see it pulsing, the blood pushing it to jump ever so slightly against his hand, almost imperceptibly.

Fewald looked at him strangely, eyebrow up, one side of the mouth raised in surprise. “You came here straight from Silas?” Telkas answered that he had. “The only way except through the snowy mountains is along the plain, trough the spirit fields.”

Before he could ask what snowy meant, Fewald continued hurriedly, excitedly. “The spirit fields are thick, underbrush, with mire, and in them are the spirits that release from the earth. It goes for many days’ journey to the proud side of the rising sun, all the way to where it sinks over the mountains.”

Telkas immediately realized what the man was saying. “Yes, I’ve come through that place, on the way here. I was lost for an eternity it seemed. I saw—impossible things.”

“The spirits. You should not have come unless you were ready for a vision, a journey.”

Telkas thought for a moment.“I was walking over a strange series of flattened stones…” one of the Wildmen interrupted him, mentioning the word “Maroad” Fewald

quieted him. Telkas continued. “And I was covered by this steam you speak of. I saw, or

I thought I saw, something impossible. It was…”

Fewald rose, and put out his hand, shouting for him to be silent. “You mustn’t

speak of these things to just any man.” Fewald stepped back, folding his arms, looking

the boy up and down. “How old are you, Telkas?” He said, finally. The questions of the

Wildman seemed only to get more confusing over time to him.

“I’ve seen almost my two-hundredth lunar cycle.” He explained, taking some time

to calculate. “The 200th lunar cycle is supposed to be an important time for a young

Silasean, time for becoming grown, and…” The Wildman looked perplexed at the lunar

calculations. “Maybe 16 seasons of cold in the outer world.”

“16 seasons, boy. You are near to the age of spirit walk. The sun moves its shy

side over the course of seasons, she moves away from us, forsaking her heat, and it gets

cold. Then, she comes back to remind us of her love for the Earth. It is part of the life

cycle. This has happened sixteen times to you, I think, Telkas. And if you have truly had

your visions, then you will be strong enough to survive amongst us, in this world. If

not...”

Telkas drew closer to the Wildman, insatiably curious, though he had no idea

what the man was saying. Before they could continue the conversation, however, an older man in the back of the group stepped forward, motioning for Fewald to come near. The man was older, his face vaguely creased and leathery in the flickering light. Telkas wondered why he couldn’t see in the dark as clearly as before.

The two Wildman were speaking in low tones; Fewald stood erect, unwavering, his hands placed at his side, or occasionally one moving to his chin in a perplexed

manner. The older one looked angry, the hoods of his eyes dark, unwavering. Their tone

became raised and Telkas began to hear some of what they were saying. Fewald’s voice

was clear and strong.

“Greth, these people are our enemies. Loka would want us to learn from them.”

Greth snorted, spitting into the soil. “I would rather learn how to stick him with an

arrow. They are too many, they come here to kill.”

Fewald folded his arms. “And you don’t have anger? Look at how you carry yourself.” He motioned to the spit on the floor. “You may have cause to worry, but you are no longer to advise me. I stand as an adult, and I am the son of Loka. This is my decision. We will take the boy with us. If he survives the trip we may have use for him.

And you will help.”

Greth gritted his teeth, but bowed stiffly.

CHAPTER VI

CAPTURE

Telkas was hot. They had been walking for some time now, and the sun was getting high again, as it somehow always tended to do. As he looked down to his feet, he saw that the spots where his body blocked the light had shrank, the burning orb being nearly overhead. As he felt for a grip with his staff he tripped, jarring his weight against it. He felt a sharp pain at his side, and, grabbing it, remembered the rude awakening he had received earlier that morning; a sharp kick at his side from Greth.

They had continued for a time through the same sort of land that he had seen; the patchy grasslands and smaller shrubs. They walked in single file, Telkas in the center.

His legs felt heavy; again a loose rock on the lightly worn path caught his foot, and onto the earth he went. Fewald called to rest for a moment. Telkas breathed in the nasty, dry dust of the plain. There was nothing in the world he hated as much as that smell. The dryness.

A grip at the back of his tunic pulled him to his feet. He felt hot breath that stank of sour milk. The haggard, chiseled face of Greth filled his vision. “What is the problem, boy? Need some water?”

Telkas nodded.

Greth cast a glance at Fewald, who was sitting on a boulder, looking to the north, away from them. Greth spit on Telkas’s eyepiece. “There. Hah. Take this now.” The man shoved a water skin into his hand. “Listen well. You’re not tied, you are lame. But I see you.” He drew a stone knife from a sheath at his side. The blade was long and dark, made of a hard, opaque mineral, the handle bone. “I can cut you down. You try to run; you will feel this in your gut. I have seen what your kind can do…”

Telkas saw Fewald’s hand flash over the man’s shoulder, grabbing and twisting both man and weapon over, pulling Greth’s arm around his own neck into a choke hold.

“And, old one, I am young and faster than you now. He’s going home, alive. Besides, how far could you run if you were to escape?” He laughed, releasing Greth, who bowed to the young warrior. As Fewald passed him, Telkas saw Greth look up, and then return his gaze to the earth. Fewald whipped around, and pressed his hand to Telkas’s shoulder.

“Tough, make no mistake, boy. Running would not be in your best interest. And we have rested long enough.”

Telkas looked back up into the young Wildman’s face. In the light, he could see his eyes better; smaller than his, light creases and sharp angles defined the brown skin of his face. The body was angular, slimmer than the Silaseans; yet strong and sinewy. The muscles moved back and forth; slipped beneath the taught skin like creatures with their own will. “Fewald, I will not run.” The Wildman smirked, and nudged him forwards.

“You say that now, but we will see. There are many things to run from besides us in this land.”

Telkas noticed that they had a peculiar way of walking. Articulate and balanced, they walked with their feet in a straight line, as if they were balancing on a tiny imaginary

ledge. Whenever they encountered an obstacle, they would lightly leap over it or onto it, agilely navigating the rock-strewn path. All of them but Fewald wore their hair in long twisted knots that fell to their back, some with several strands so fixed. The leader had hair that fell to his shoulders; that was lighter than the others, and was not adorned with a large twist, but with small ones interspersed. Telkas could not guess at the significance of this. He could tell that these men were accustomed to moving much faster than he could.

He watched them toy about, leisurely moving across ground that made him exhausted.

Fewald moved backwards from the head of the line after a time, setting his pace alongside Telkas. “So, boy, do you have a purpose? Are you here to learn of us and return to your people?” Telkas cocked his head.

“I guess I am to learn. But it’s not for my people, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m no spy.”

“Then what are you?”

Telkas was somewhat surprised by the forward nature of these questions, and he was silent for a moment.“I suppose I’m just me. I don’t have anyone, you know.” He thought of his parents. “Not anyone left on this world, anyway.”

Fewald placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We will see, Silasean.”

Ahead, Telkas saw that they were nearing a large drop off. Beyond he saw a haze.

“This is the edge of the lowness, boy. Here begins our homeland, beneath the clouds.” They drew up to the edge. Telkas stared into the void. Large patches of white puffy clouds covered the area below. The path descended into obscurity, winding between great boulders and foliage.

As they wound their way down, the path became much harder for Telkas to

navigate. One of the Wildman chuckled as he saw Telkas struggle to make his way over

an overhang. “Aren’t there ups and downs in your caves at home?” Telkas reached, his

arms supporting his body, until his feet touched the ground. The thick clouds covered

them.

“We have such places in Silas, though I haven’t been able to visit them for a

while. And, in your lands, is there anything else you can do but laugh at the troubles of

other people?” Telkas glared at the man, who returned the stare. “In fact, I’m beginning

to wonder if there is land below us.” In the depths of the mist, there was a deep sound,

something that shook the earth and carried the trace of immense power. Telkas pricked

his ears forward, hesitating on his last step. He froze, petrified as the rock onto which he clung, listening to the heavy booming noise, like the thunder of a few days before. “What under the God’s is that?” Greth looked Towards Fewald, now at the head of the descending column.

“I’d say we should show him. Take him by cable.” The corner of Fewald’s lip

crept upward, revealing his filed teeth. He jerked his head towards a smaller, worn path

that lead to the left of the zigzag main pathway. Telkas pressed his sandals into the sandy

wet soil. Tiny trails of green plants scattered throughout the surface, winding their way

into the rock ledge just to his left. They passed under a massive overhang that extended

out over the drop off many times greater than his height. Just how far down did the

precipice go? As usual, the Wildman were moving fast, pushing him. Greth disappeared

around a sharp left turn, and then Telkas saw what the men had been talking about.

Onto a projection of rock that stabbed out into the mist was a huge contraption that reminded him of the air circulators in Silas; a massive set of cogged wheels sat parallel to one another, atop a timber pedestal. Tongues of the thick mist curled around the machine, hiding it behind a half of a veil of moisture. Lifting his mask he could just barely make out two great cables extending away from it, vanishing into the distance.

Fewald was leaning against the rock, to Telkas’s left. He hit the boy’s shoulder lightly.

“Come. You’ll never see things like this underground, boy.” Fewald lead the group towards the object.

As they approached, Telkas saw that steps had been carved into the rock, and that sinews of some kind bound the huge timbers together. The wood was a deep crimson color that Telkas had never seen before. As he stepped out onto the projection of rock, he thought he was able to see a bit more light beneath. Greth opened a small chest that was between the two wheels, each several times his height. Telkas watched as he passed out bundles of leather to each of them. He sneered at Telkas, dropping one at the boy’s feet.

The Wildman were strapping leather slings to their legs that ran in a loop around each leg and up their backs to a large hook at the top, and he watched, duplicating their movements. Fewald motioned to Telkas to come up to him. He was standing at the edge of the rock, next to one of the great cables. He took the boy’s staff, affixing it to the harness. Telkas looked up, puzzled. “Do you know what is about to happen, boy?” Telkas shook his head. “You are about to get an education. You say you are a free person? You don’t know free. Let me show you, Telkas.” He smiled, and cupped his hands to his mouth. Fewald let out a cry, like the call of a Scrack, out into the void. Then, leaping, he hooked his harness to the end of a loop on the great cable. Fewald spread his arms,

travelling along the great cable, disappearing into the mists. Telkas stepped back. Far

below, he saw a flash of green. Through a tiny window in the vapor, Telkas saw, far, far

below, the glint of sunlight off of a river, and tiny trees. He stepped further from the

edge. Greth was behind him.

“Come now, digger. You got to learn to fly sometime.” Telkas’s eyes grew wide,

but he didn’t fight the man as he hoisted up his frail body, attaching him to the cable.

Greth gave out a cry, kicking Telkas’s back.

Telkas felt the earth leave his feet; the cool kiss of the wind blistered across his cheeks. The mists twirled faster about him, opening and closing; twirling like cave whirlpools. In one instant, the light grew brighter, colors began to bleed and soak through the veil. He was out of the cloud in an, his body warmed by brilliant sunlight. He saw the light hit the condensed drops on his arms, watched the huge expanse of cable extend for an unbelievable length over the thick forest below. The trees were interspersed over an enormous valley, with thousands of rivulets and bits of land between them. It extended to the sea to his right, in an arc like the moon.

Telkas had been in the air only a few moments. He craned his head back to look for where he had started, but he couldn’t see to his right because of a strap. He turned the other way and a brilliant light made him squint.

It was the sun, but crowning something. It was wide, the biggest thing he had ever seen up close. It was white, cascading, foaming at its base. From there, the mist emanated, flowing, covering the cliffs with its veil. This enormous flow, of, it must have been water, thundered, filling his body with sound, shaking him atop the cable. His path took him first closer to it, and then, the mass swept backwards until it terminated, and a

distance beyond, the cable disappeared into the trees. As he moved closer to it he could see the light reflecting off of its surface, saw the rock behind its sheets of water. He knew that it was water as he neared it; it was really like someone had upended an entire underground aquifer in one catastrophic second. And, amazingly, the fall kept coming.

He drew near its spray, the water stung his cheek. Telkas breathed deep, and let loose a furious cry, just like the egret. He felt like a bird, like those he had seen that first day, soaring. Fewald was right.

As he left the water, he could see that he was entering the trees soon. He hadn’t realized how large they were until now. Looking down into them, he could see that they were of the same reddish bark as the timber that had made the machine up above. As he passed their tops, he saw the forest floor below and understood that they were close to a hundred times as tall as he. His eyes opened wide yet again, despite the brilliance of the daylight. The air turned cool under their great shadow. At last, he saw a platform, saw that the cable curved back upwards at the end. He had wondered how he was to stop. As he passed the platforms, he saw Fewald with some other of his people, in a flash. He first swung up the steep incline of the cable, and then back to the platform. On his way back through, Fewald grabbed him, pulling back onto the wood. He crowed. “Look at your face, tunnel man.” Fewald grinned wide.

“Fewald, the roaring, rushing water? Where does it come from?” The Wildman laughed, slapping his legs.

“It’s a waterfall, boy. The river Arugar flows wide, and drops over the sides of the mountain there. She must reach the sea, but in her hurry she is dashed to bits on the rocks

and separates into the many smaller ones we will cross soon. It’s a much better way to

come down than the cliffs, is it?”

“In my life I haven’t had a feeling like that, ever, Fewald.” Telkas breathed in the

crisp scent of the air, hand on his chest. “I felt more alive than I have ever felt.” But then

he remembered the spirit fields.

“If life is given to us, Telkas, this is what it must be for.” Telkas stared into his companion’s face.

“Life is for excitement according to the Wildmen?” Fewald stopped smiling.

“No, Telkas. Life is to learn. To experience. This is the only way that we grow.

That is why you are brought here. We are going to learn from you.” Telkas knelt, and moved to a sitting position carefully, his handicap slowing his movement. He lowered himself painfully almost, letting his legs swing free over the edge of the platform. “You weren’t bothered by the height? The speed? I’m sure you’ve had nothing like that underground.” Telkas again thought back to his spirit vision.

“Maybe not in Silas. But there are other ways to experience things, Wildman. I

may be younger than you, but there are many things I have seen. And if I’m here to learn

from you, then what else do you have to show me?”

###

It had taken a short time for them to cross on the cable what Fewald told Telkas

was as much distance as he had been able to cross in a half day’s walk. The trees in the

forest were as tall as he had thought; it would have taken all seven of them linking arms

to wrap about the smallest of the grown ones. They grew small nuts which littered the

soil and their leaves were tiny and sharp to the touch. There was little else on the ground

in the way of foliage; although many rivulets and streams crossed the valley floor as they

walked, exposing the rocky bones beneath. They held their course past the falls for

several hours, at which point the Wildman led Telkas to a small clearing at the base of the

huge cliffs to their east.

The trees fell away revealing a rolling pasture that sloped gently downwards, nestling the buildings neatly in the center. The shadow of the mountain lay across its silhouette. It was fortified with a wooden barricade and simple platforms above. Atop them were archers; as they drew near walking over the shortly cropped grass Telkas realized with amazement that the archers were female. They wore smaller versions of their leather tunics, and leggings painted with purple stripes in ornate, parallel designs.

The bows they carried were as tall as their wielders.

The party approached the wooden gates, heavy timber construction that was carved ornately. Telkas saw the image of serpent like creatures, with wings, twisting and turning through the scene, their tails curved and writing, winding about one another’ intertwined. Lower, there were hunters mounted on large animals with four legs, in large groups, forming, turning, wheeling on one another, firing forests of arrows. His eye stayed fixed to them as they were pulled inwards by unseen hands. The high walls

concealed a long settlement that extended far towards the shadow of the mountains

beyond, in a graceful arc. Within were hundreds of structures, made of the same red

timber and a sandy stone at their base. The tops arced gracefully, like one wing of a bird,

a series of the timbers fanning out and onward, cascading over the buildings. They were

placed around the bases of the huge trees which grew throughout the entire encampment.

Telkas saw no smoke rising from the structures. There was a trail, like the one in the sprit

fields, although this one was freshly outlined, and there were tiny iridescent shells

glimmering in between the larger stones. They made intricate designs, curving and

spiraling. On this were many of the wild people, the women adorned in light dresses and

tunics, smiling. One moved up towards a man in their group from behind, and leapt upon

him. She had light hair, lighter than Telkas had ever seen before. The woman was young,

slender, and beamed when he turned to face her. She lifted her shoulders slightly, and,

dipping, bowed her head lightly and gracefully, her hair falling in front of her face, and

the rays of the lowering sun passed through it. He returned her bow, with the same care

as she had given it. Then, laughing, he pulled her to him. Fewald looked to them fondly.

“Telkas that is Marok, and his new wife. They have taken their life vows just

before our journey to the relic shrine.” He turned to Marok, placing his hand on the man’s

shoulder, and bowing to the woman. “Staza, it makes me smile to see you again. My

friend, go, leave these duties to us. Be with her now.” Marok bowed again, to Fewald.

Staza took his hand and lead him into their dwelling. Telkas watched them.

“He does not look much older than I, Fewald.”

“He is not. 18 cycles, a few older than you.” Telkas sighed.

“In Silas, men may take a woman at this same age. Not much older than I.”

Fewald stopped walking, looking back at the boy.

“Telkas, a woman is not to be taken, unless she also takes you. You may only give yourself to another here.” He turned without another word. Telkas smiled a half smile, and moved on in his wake. Many of the Wildmen were looking at him in curiosity;

some began to touch his clothes, pass their hands over him. Hundreds of small homes

lined the sides of the path; at every point the village was bustling with voices, with

singing, a strange haunting tone of sound that first became louder, pulsating with strength; then fading into the sounds of conversation. People with wares, sticks with hanging dried fishes, fruits, and meats moving to and fro. Every one of them was smiling, their long braids of dark hair shaking as they laughed, embraced, lived.

They came to a central square, the conjunction of their street and another dissecting it. Telkas looked into the center of the opening and dropped his jaw. There in the center was a magnificent stone, a crystal, of the same type that lighted the halls in

Silas he presumed, but it was the largest one he had ever seen, easily several times his height, and as many around. The tops of the crystal jutted out in different directions, reaching toward the crowns of the trees above, of the sun. Its light green color shone slightly in the sunlight, reflecting a slight glow that was diminished by the beauty of the daytime. Around its base were flowers, offerings in woven baskets of fruit or of small goods. Interspersed were also relics from the ancestors. Fewald bowed to the great stone, and, removing some of the treasures from his journey, placed them at its base. His companions followed suit. Telkas furrowed his brow. “Fewald, you worship this glowstone?” Fewald, still kneeling, looked over his shoulder.

“Telkas, this stone holds the life of our home in it. You see its light? This is greater when the sun leaves. It reflects its light back to us, boy. It is like the earth, a reflection of the energy of all things.” He motioned for the boy to come near. Telkas knelt beside him, and Fewald took a handful of dark earth from the ground. “The energy of the sun goes first into the plants, the creatures, which then die and give it back to the soil.

The soil turns to rock, and the elements break up the rocks, releasing that life. It’s a circle. We do not worship the stone. We worship no single thing, but rather what it

represents. This is the cycle, the wheel. That is what we revere. But I am not the best one to show these things to you. Not yet. Come, we must take you to my father.”

They moved through the village to its Northernmost point, the “shy side of the sun” as Fewald said. Along the way, the members of the group left to enter their respective homes and loved ones, bowing to Fewald as they went. At the end, only Greth remained. The two stockade walls had slowly converged, until at the most extreme end, they came together in a point, like one of the canoes Jestea and the fisherwomen used to navigate the grottoes of Silas. In this large nook was a structure built like the houses of the village, only larger. Its walls were made of the same glowstone that crowned the center of the town, and wooden posts divided its sides in a great octagon. They were carved with detailed scenes depicting archers, great battles, and twisting plants weaving the trees and animals together with the scene in a great spiral. Up the steps, on the large doorway, a circle was carved deep into the red wood, three colored bands interwoven, circling and becoming smaller in a spiral until it ended in the center with a single spiral shell.

Within, there was only one large room. A fire that burned lighter, nearly white, lit the interior from a center hearth, the smoke exiting through a hole at the apex of the roof.

A man sat opposite them, on the other side of the fire, back turned, looking at what appeared to be an animal skin on the floor. Fewald stepped forward. “Father, it is wonderful to be in your presence again.” Fewald bowed deeply. The man rose, Telkas saw a large cloak made of white and black feathers fall around his form. As he turned,

Telkas saw his grey hair, braided as Fewald’s, saw the lines of his face, deep around the sides of his eyes, and the mouth. When he smiled, Telkas saw them stretch, evidence of

much laughter. His eyes were a deep emerald green, and his tunic a deep blue, deeper

than Fewald’s.

“My son, I smile at the thought.” He returned the bow, also acknowledging Greth.

“Greth, I thank you for watching over our leader to be.” Greth smiled, bowing as well.

“Who is this new soul?” Telkas looked up at the chief, and bowed. “I am of Silas. I am

honored, sir.” The lines deepened into a smile again, and the chief returned Telkas’s bow

as well.

“Father, this is Telkas. He has come out into the world from the under lands. I

thought it his course to be brought here, to you. He has far to go.” As he said this last,

Fewald put two fingers to the point above his eyes on the forehead, and extended them

outward, towards the sky. The chief’s face changed to intrigue.

“Telkas, I am called Loka. I welcome you to Valdea. Will you sit with me a

while?” Telkas raised himself a bit straighter with his staff.

“I thank you—I will of course, sir.” He felt a nervous tingling in his stomach.

Fewald turned towards the door.

“I will leave you now, Silasean. Be truthful, he sees more than you can imagine.”

Pulling Greth by the arm, the two of them disappeared through the doorway. Loka returned to his sitting position by the fire. Telkas, hesitantly, moved over to him, sitting with his knees together. At their feet was the large animal skin, and now Telkas could see that it was covered in a great spiral, like their sea shells.

The spiral was made up of images, tiny pictures painted upon its surface. Some of them were animals, some faces, or events, like a small picture of a battle. At the center was a green spiral like that on the door. “Telkas, this is the history. It is our people’s

record of the last 200 cycles of the sun. Each cycle, when the sun moves about its path in

the sky over the four seasons, is represented by one event that is special to that cycle.

This at the center is Kaleah, the spiral of life. Events in time happen, increasing our

awareness, from what our ancestors had. The more that is experienced, the more we grow

as spirit.” Telkas nodded.

This was unlike anything he had heard before.

The old man continued. “See here, this image?” Loka pointed to one near the edge of the cloth. In it, pale skinned people stood next to dark skinned images of the Wildman.

“You are the first Silasean in 12 cycles that we have seen who has not come here in war.”

Telkas started.

“Chief, there have been others that have come here?” The old man shook his head.

“Not here, young one. They made their home away from the underworld, to the south, before the falls.”

“What happened to them?”

“They were destroyed by their own fire. But while they lived, we shared with them, tried to learn.” Telkas clenched his hands. Something didn’t make sense. Their own fire? Did they burn themselves? Questions burned inside of him.

“They wanted to share with us, Telkas. I offered them peace, and they were glad to take it. I now offer this to you. I offer knowledge, boy, and growth, in exchange for yours. I ask that you take the place of those who came before you; so that we can all gain a greater understanding of the great cycle. Will you agree?”

Telkas fought back emotions welling up deep inside of him. “I will take your offer, chief. I have nothing left now.”

Loka smiled. “You have much left. I have been told of your artifacts. Will you show them to me?” form his belt; Telkas produced the cap and shards of glass. He explained the panel, the models that he had built, and the day that he was cast from Silas.

He told Loka of Jestea, of his decision to leave her. His parents he left out as he explained. He ended with the image of the conductor that he had stared at while he was pinned to the cavern floor, after a while trailing off into quiet.

Then, he spoke again. “When I came here, I was told not to speak of my experiences except to you. I didn’t understand them at the time, but I think you are the only one who can help me.”

The old man was silent for some time. They both stared into the light flames curling upwards in front of them. The chief watched as the flames slowly became darker, more orange. From a small pouch near his side, he took a handful of silvery powder. He threw it on the flame, which flashed brilliantly, and then turned white again.

“Telkas, I see that you have much more on your mind than any Underworlder that

I have seen in a great while. You do not want death. You want to create something, in the image of the builders of old. And your spiritual window, the path to the other worlds, is opening for you.” Loka pointed with two fingers to the same point on Telkas’s forehead that Fewald had done earlier. “You must be trained, shown to access its energies at need.

I will give you a place to build these structures, and have seen some of the Ni’njayhe who would benefit you, and be benefited, by working with you. You will live with us in

Valdea, and live and breathe these goals.” He smiled, bowing his head to Telkas. “I

welcome you, son of the Underworld.” Telkas, unable to speak, only returned the smile

and bow. The old man got up, and moving to the door, uttered once more. “This year has

yet to be assigned an image; but the signs have shown it to be a time of change. Go now

and find your path in the Kaleah.” He called out the door to Fewald and Greth, who came

into the chamber. “This boy will be trained to maneuver the Kaleah. We will help him

fulfill his visions of architecture.” Greth bowed his head, but there was arrogance about

his temperament. “Greth, you will take the daughter of Ma’weth and work with this boy

in his endeavor.” Greth looked up sharply.

“Loka, honored Chief—, I—how can this happen? After what I have seen of these people I would rather die…” The chief’s face was emotionless; he stared back into

Greth’s angry eyes. Eventually Greth’s face fell, and he bowed.

“My son, give Telkas a home. He is to live here among the Ni’njahe.” Fewald nodded. They bowed to the chief, and took their leave. Greth stayed behind. As they walked out into the twilight, the stones began to glow lightly in the fading light. Fewald laughed, patting Telkas on the shoulder.

“I am not sure how you did this, but I am satisfied now that I took you to father.

This truly is an event to remember. No outsider has ever chosen or been chosen to live in

Valdea.”

“I don’t know what to do. I never really felt at home any place, but less so here.”

They stopped in front of a dark lodge a ways down a short path that peeled from the road to their left.

“Then Telkas of the underworld start by making this your home.” They stepped into the small structure, lifting the worn fur covering the entrance. In the darkness, Telkas

could see the faint outline of the fire pit in the center of the room. “Spirits, I can’t see a

thing. There should be tinder in the hearth.” Telkas took the flint from Fewald’s hand,

and, striking it, lit the small pile of brush. “It is handy to have one used to living in the

dark, Telkas.”

The interior was made of logs, the floor packed dirt. The ceiling of the spiral roof extended slightly upwards from the entrance, in a circle, around the central pole, which was set at an angle so as to be out of the way of the fire. There was a window above the door, as the roof, when it curved back around into a circle, was higher than the origin, and there was a stretched skin which let in a little light. There was little else in the room, just a bed of dried ferns and skins at one wall. It was perhaps 10 paces from wall to wall.

The logs, usually full of carvings elsewhere, were empty. “Telkas, make this your new beginning. I don’t know what happened to you, but I look forward to this time ahead.

Many blessings to you, son of Silas.” Fewald bowed, stepped through the door, and was gone. He peered out after him, and saw that Greth was standing a short distance away, on the other side of the path, at a fire. He returned the man’s stare, and slipped into the lodge.

CHAPTER VII

THE ARCHITECT

“Come on, boy. You will never be able to get anywhere if you don’t get this right.” Greth was angrily holding the tether of a Ze’dayo, with Telkas astride. The animal was higher than Telkas at its shoulder, and it was a reddish tone, like the earth it stamped at with its four hooves. Lines of lighter stripes ran from its long nose, down its sides, to its powerful flank and rump, ending with a long tail of course hair. It snorted, tossing its head and moving unsteadily. Telkas held on to the hair that extended down its head and long neck.

“I’m trying, damn you.” A lighter voice laughed from behind them.

“The least you could do is give him the trainer’s harness.” They were at a stable which was located outside the palisade; from around its simple walls moved a Jahe woman, young and tall. She carried a deep red bow slung across her back. She wore very little clothing, a loin cloth, deep crimson riding breeches of animal hide, and a chest covering of knotted leather straps and shell beads. Her braided hair was deep and dark, and it fell in knots over the shoulders, partly covering the slender quiver held to her back with a leather strap. Her feet were bare. Greth scowled.

“Then you take this responsibility, Jayka. I am leaving. I’m not walking with this cripple any longer. The structure is too far to keep doing that, and I’m not waiting around for him to figure this out any longer.” He dropped the Ze’dayo’s mane, and strode across

the fenced area to the other animals. He leapt onto the back of one, and called out to it.

The animal leapt across the paddock, over the fence, and they were gone into the

underbrush at the far side of the clearing quickly.

She walked over to Telkas. “Pay him no mind. He knows where the field of

stones is. We can meet him there when you are ready.” Telkas looked up at her.

There was a long scar, three parallel lines, extending from beneath her ear, which

was adorned with piercings and dangling shells, running in a curve down her neck,

ending on her bare back. She turned her head, ear towards the unseen area beyond the

shelter wall. A man appeared around its corner. Telkas bowed his head.

“Fewald.” He smiled and greeted him. “You are going to see the progress today?

Despite Greth’s attitude.” Telkas tried to mollify his excitement.

Fewald nodded. “I fear Greth is held back by more than just the lightness of your

skin, Silasean.”

Although,” Jayka said, touching his cheek with her dark hands, pulling up on the goggles he had trimmed out of his cap, “It has gotten darker these last few moons. And don’t worry, Greth will come around, you will see.”

“I’ve never figured out why he hates me so much.”

“It is for you two to decide together,” Fewald said, “and no other. He has things to be revealed Telkas. It will happen when the Kaleah is right.” Jayka nodded at his words.

They began to tie the leather straps to the Ze’dayo, affixing his hands to the animal’s neck. It whinnied. Telkas sat atop its back, grinning nervously.

“What do I do?” Jayka moved back from its side.

“Squeeze your legs to have her go, kick lightly to stop. You must put your hands on her neck, press into her to have her turn. It takes practice, but first she will follow us.

You will learn fast, don’t worry.” The two leapt atop their mounts, and started to walk out of the paddock. Telkas pushed his legs together. The animal jerked forwards, slowed, and fell in line behind the twins. They were going a medium pace, much slower than

Greth had left earlier.

Telkas wobbled slightly back and forth on the Ze’dayo’s back. At this point in the forest, on the northern end of Valdea, the sun filtered more intensely through a weaker stand of trees. Many small plants rose from the forest floor, mostly ferns, some twice as tall as he was, with great curls at the tips of their fronds. They rode for a short time as the work area wasn’t far from the city, although admittedly it was much shorter than he was used to walking with his leg.

Their objective was a small clearing at the very base of the enormous white cliffs, which towered above them now, slightly overhanging at the top, giving Telkas the feeling that he was about to be crushed by some giant foot. The ground was littered with slabs of granite that had fallen from the cliff, which made a sweeping arc over the clearing before turning eastwards to the sea. Finally, with the animals, they could begin to remove the large bits of stone and set to work building the walls.

They followed the edge of the cliff to a projection of rock that moved out from the wall, twisted and warped by some huge force. It arced, wrapping over on itself into the earth. Throughout the entire formation, veins of clear blue crystal snaked, giving off a faint glow. Telkas had seen the deposits of glowstone while scouting the area with Greth some time before.

The forest here was made up of many different yellows and purples, for the huge ferns, as they neared a lighter area of the canopy, began to become brighter, the color richer as it reached the tips of the fronds and the curled projections nearer to the light.

As they rounded the projection, on the other side laid their worksite. In the shadow of the cliffs were two small constructions. Bits of fragmented stone lay in piles, wooden mallets and metallic hammers lay haphazardly about. Greth was nowhere in sight. Jayka lifted her hand to her mouth, emitting a series of sharp, piercing bird calls.

The cliff walls echoed and amplified her voice; from the foliage to their right there was no response. She shrugged. “It’s no matter. He will come back at some point.” Fewald frowned.

“Yes, it’s partly the reason I came here today. I know he hasn’t enjoyed this, but he must follow his duties, if he has taught me anything.”

“Fewald, I asked Greth to look around for some new sources of stone, and other places we might build in the future.” Fewald raised his eyebrow, but nodded.

“If you say so, Telkas.” Jayka looked at him bemusedly.

Telkas couldn’t imagine how someone who had just recently been a man’s pupil could be in a position to correct him even though he was the son of Loka. The ways of the Jahe were truly different than what he was used to, even now.

With the animals the work moved much faster. Telkas was able to, with the help of Fewald and Jayka, load many of the flat slabs onto the dragging sheets and transport them to the worksite. Before long there were trails in the soft earth from the weight of the rocks pushing down on the skin stretched between the large poles mounted to the

Ze’dayo. Telkas made a note to find a better solution to that problem later.

After some time there was a nice stack of material sitting next to the packed

foundation north of them. Jayka squatted; toes digging into the earth. The sun filtered

through the weak shade of the conifers, and, as it lowered towards the western cliffs it

shone directly on their work. Telkas pinched the reddened skin of his arm; even though

he had gotten darker, or “ripened” as the Jahe said, it still caused him pain even after all

his time in the outer world. Jayka looked up at Telkas, and then pressed her finger into a

particularly red spot on his arm, and the skin turned white for a moment before the blood

underneath rushed back in. Telkas grimaced slightly.

“So, what is your plan here with the stones, Underworlder?” Fewald looked to

him with curiosity as well.

“Yes, tell me Telkas. I’m wondering if we have misplaced our faith in you.” He

said, grinning. Telkas smirked, although he was somewhat unsure of the man’s sincerity.

“You see these areas?” he gestured to the areas of packed shards of rock. Fewald

nodded. There were four areas, right angles, packed into the earth, perhaps twenty paces

from each other. They were arranged so that the corners of the angles pointed inwards,

making the appearance of a large cross. “These are to mimic the depth that the rock of

mountains travels into the earth. Most of the weight of the stones we are going to place

here would push the soil in, as my models did in Silas. So Jayka and Greth and I packed

it first, and added stones which are sturdier to lay the actual slabs on.” Fewald nodded.

“I believe you were born to think more about these things than I, Telkas. You plan out every step, which is good. If these are to be homes, why not make them larger for a family?” Telkas turned slightly red.

“I don’t know if I should be worrying about all of that just yet.” The Jahe laughed.

“Besides, we are only a few, and I would need bigger stones to make a bigger place. You see, at the bottom go the largest stones.” He placed his hand palm up, flat. “Then, each higher stone goes on top of the next,” he placed his other hand a little further inwards on top of the first one, leaning heavily on his good leg. “… a little smaller, and a bit further in, so that they all lean towards a central point. Then a large stone in the middle gets pushed on from all sides, holding it together.”

Jayka took her hand and pushed his own apart. “And how do they stay up until the middle stone is in place?”

“Easy. We fill it with sand first. Then once they are in place, we can remove it.”

Fewald sat upon one of the base stones. “So, you don’t know if this will work yet?”

Telkas shook his head.

“No, I do, because I have seen the caverns that have lasted for ages built just this way, made by the ancients, hidden under Silas.”

From the crevice behind them they heard some rubble upset, skittering down the loose pile of debris which covered the narrow passage. Down it slid Greth, his Ze’dayo following behind. Fewald nodded. “Greth. Was your search successful?” Greth frowned, taken aback. Telkas cut in.

“For more sources of stone, Greth.” Telkas bowed. Greth was silent for a moment, and didn’t return Telkas’s motion. He looked to Fewald.

“There is a place that more sheaves of rock have come off, under a large overhang, further up this path. But it is some distance.”

Fewald paused a moment, eyeing them both, but suddenly placed his hands together, bowing. “I would love to see more of this stone, but unfortunately I must leave now, Telkas. I’m sure you will manage well here.” Then Fewald abruptly bade him goodbye, and the young chief mounted his animal and left the worksite. When he had gone, Greth stormed up to Telkas.

“Why do you protect me, boy? I have no need of this from you.” Telkas recoiled slightly, and then pushed himself back.

“I’m not the kind of person to have someone in trouble on my account.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong.” Jayka leapt off the ground, moving quickly to within a few inches of Greth’s face.

“You have not followed your given task.” She nearly hissed. “You should be thankful to Telkas. You have been gone more and more these past few days, and he has done nothing to you.” Greth glared directly into her eyes.

“He is not one of us. Why should we be made to follow?”

“You do not give him a chance to lead.” Telkas stood up straight.

“I don’t want to lead anyone. I was given this opportunity to carry out my plan, and I’m doing it. If you don’t want to be a part of it, I won’t make you. Go back to the village.” Greth turned, facing him for the first time.

“I couldn’t. I’m stuck here because of you.” Jayka pushed him back, and he stumbled over a foundation stone, landing on his back.

“You’re here because of yourself.” Greth crawled to his feet. “Loka sees this, and you will see it.” Greth spat in the dirt.

“I don’t have to listen to this.” He walked to his mount. “I’ll see you in the village.” He mounted with a swift leap and galloped off. Telkas sighed, and sat on a stone. Jayka knelt next to him. The light was growing fainter, and the sun just touched the tops of the cliffs. Animals cooed in the canopy that began to grow denser in the direction of Valdea.

“I don’t understand why he didn’t just go back to the village at first Jayka. Why didn’t he leave?”

“You gave him permission, Telkas. Even though he hates you he will not leave without that permission. It would be disobeying the chief. He loves Loka very much, even though he is learning a hard lesson now.”

“I never wanted to control anyone. I guess Loka placed him here because he hates me.”

The Jahe woman tossed her long tightly woven hair. “I agree with you, and some day the reasons for that hate will come out. There must be healing.”

Telkas rubbed his temple. “But I didn’t do anything to him.”

“Your people did something to him that has caused him pain. He needs to deal with it. Loka knows what he is doing putting him here, and he is very close with the

Kaleah.” Telkas stopped rubbing his head, and looked up at her suddenly.

“Then why did he send you here? Or, am I not permitted to know?”

She looked at him for a moment, half-lost in thought as if she were digging for some distant memory. “The law of silence only applies to the business of others, Telkas. I am here for a very simple reason.” She slid to the ground, placing both of her legs next to one another, leaning on her hip, placing a hand down for balance. She un-slung her bow

from her back, placing it in her lap. “A long time ago, I was just learning to hunt. I had

gone on my own vision walk, out near the falls. While out there alone for many nights I

saw the planes of spirit and visions that would guide me for the rest of my life, as all Jahe

do when they become adult. While in this trance, I was attacked by a Grundak…” She touched the scar along her back. Telkas had wondered about it for some time. The claw marks were much further apart than he could spread his fingers. “Some people of the underworld, who for a short time lived in the lands about the falls, saved me. That was eight seasons ago. I am now simply returning this debt.”

Telkas’s eyes grew wide. “Where are they now?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. They disappeared years ago.”

Telkas breathed in a little. “I’m grateful for your help, Jayka.”

She smiled. “You will find a way to shape these stones, Telkas. And Greth will see someday that you are not what he hates. Don’t worry. But we must get back as it’s nearly twilight.”

###

The village was a sea of twinkling lights in the darkness of the forest. As they approached, Telkas could make out the outline of the high walls of timber, dark, and above it the glow of the stretched skin windows at the tops of the homes, the swirling lights of embers and fires, the nearly intangible billowing trails of gray smoke blending in with the darkness. Even though he had seen the village like this once before he was still amazed by the spectacle. It was a night of worship for the Jahe, to greet the new moon as she waxed.

“Jayka this is not the moon that you worship, correct?” She spoke to him from her

mount without turning.

“It is the cycle we celebrate Telkas; we are embracing the change, knowing that it

may be the last time. Nothing lasts forever, Underworlder.” He tried to think about it

more, but as they dismounted and left their Ze’dayo, all he could do was stare in

amazement as he entered the postern gate from within the stable enclosure.

There were many roaring fires made in the clearings throughout Valdea, wherever there was enough distance from the homes. They increased in number as they got closer to the center, and the crystal. The fragments of glowstone were shimmering, iridescent, and warm to the touch beneath his thin sandals, which were nearly worn through.

Jayka stepped lightly over the path ahead of him, hands to her sides, palms to the ground, hands out. She moved fast but fluidly; moving like a fish through water. They converged to the center, around the great crystal. There were hundreds of Jahe, some standing, some sitting with legs crossed. The warm night air blew the scent of burning cedar through the air, and it lifted Jayka’s hair, her braids, carrying them to and fro in the current. Telkas heard a low rumbling sound.

They sat at the rear of the group. The large crystal shimmered faintly in the night, reflecting the gleam, returning slightly the light of dozens of fires. Loka was there, at the head of the stone. “Jahe, my brothers and sisters” He called out to the people, hands wide.

He wore a robe of blue, similar to Fewald’s shirts, but longer, lighter, almost the color of the sky. His long, gray hair moved in the air currents. “This is the time of change. We welcome the change, for it is in the Kaleah to welcome it. We go as it goes, we change as it changes. We bend, we move, and spirit shapes us in this way so that we might approach

the high road.” Telkas saw that Fewald sat, legs crossed, at his father’s feet, facing

towards him, in the first rows of the people.

Jayka pulled at his tunic. “Telkas, watch, learn this. You must if you are to move

on.”

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to move on.

Loka placed the first two fingers of the right hand to his forehead, as he had seen done before. “We will move beyond sight, beyond the flesh. They cycle holds all things.”

The people responded in a low tone, together.

“We are a part of the Kaleah, the life force.” Loka spoke again, lowering his hand.

“We celebrate the Kaleah.”

“The Kaleah returns it to us.” Telkas still couldn’t remember the words to say, felt somewhat awkward, half-heartedly trying to follow along, mouthing the words when he remembered them.

Loka uttered the last phrase. “And, now we are thankful. We listen for the sounds

of life; see the light of all things. We return these back to the earth in song.”

The entire village drew a breath, and fell silent.

In that moment, when the entire village was silent, he saw the distance patches of

stars between the few trees in the village, and more sky in the clearing beyond the walls.

He saw a line shoot across the backdrop of the sky; it was as a star would be, but moving,

arcing, cutting across the points of light. He drew in a breath with the rest of them. There

were animal noises in the forest beyond, chirping and humming. He heard the living

things in the dark beyond. The great crystal grew faint.

Loka suddenly began to chant; it was an unearthly sound. He sang with his mouth

open, filling the courtyard with sound, direct and unchanged from voice or movement of

mouth. The Jahe soon joined him, many with eyes closed. Some holding hands, some

alone, they raised their arms and filled the village with sound. He closed his eyes.

It poured over Telkas; filled his body with light and humming, a vibration that

shook his heart and chilled his skin. He felt warm, felt the different voices of the people.

Each of them was different, and if he concentrated he could pick out Jayka, her voice

medium, strong, and confident, riding the current of sound as it fluctuated up and down.

But the most beautiful part of the sound was that it melted together into a common sound,

threaded through all the voices like the beating of a drum. It pulsed, and he felt it in the

core of his body, reverberating, making his heart beat faster. He breathed deeply, opening

his eyes.

The crystal was brilliant.

It dazzled his eyes, a patchy light swirling across its surface, ebbing and flowing

in tandem with the fluctuation of the immense sound pouring from the people. He

dropped his mouth. The first time he had been here for the celebration of change he hadn’t opened his eyes. The light shone across the surface of the path, covered Loka, making his front harder to see as it surrounded his form like a halo.

Without any outward cue, the voices, the pulsating flow began to subside. The people, some of whom had gotten to their knees or risen fully, moved back to their sitting positions, hands lowered. Telkas was not sure how long it had lasted; it felt at the same time to be an eternity and an instant. The crystal grew faint as the voices silenced; yet still

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it carried obvious energy from the voices. Small lines of light skittered across the surface of the stone.

Telkas began to feel uncomfortable for some reason. When he looked around, he noticed that to the right of the crystal, further from the epicenter of the crowd, Greth had been watching him. His strong outline was clearly visible in the fire light beyond. His muscles looked sharper, outlined by shadow and light playing across him. Telkas felt suddenly cold.

Loka smiled. “Blessings on all of the people, and follow your guidance.” He bowed, and the people returned the gesture, some kneeling as they did so. It was the end of the ceremony. In the light of the fires, people embraced or began talking. The hum of conversation, punctuated by laughter, soon filled Valdea and changed the tone of the night. Jayka rose, and pulled Telkas to his feet by his arm.

“What did you see?”

Telkas frowned.“Well, I saw the stone glow brightly when you brushed it. I’ve never seen that before.” She shook her head, flipping her braids.

“No, what have you seen?” She pointed to the place in the forehead between and above her eyes.

Recognition dawned. “Oh, um, I suppose I didn’t. Maybe I should have left my eyes shut?”

“It could help. When you are more able to concentrate you will not need to.” She cocked her head to the side. “Then again, you have been here only a little while. You will figure it out. I heard from Fewald this morning that Loka is to contemplate with you

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again soon. Do you feel ready?” Telkas looked at the still swirling lights around the

crystal. Loka had gone.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been shown to do this before. It’s so different than

Silas. Sometimes I feel like an idiot.”

Jayka placed a hand on his shoulder. “You are no fool. You are experiencing the

Kaleah in a way that many never have been able to, and you are no fish for dry land.” He looked at her, confused. “An expression meaning that you do not come naturally to where you are. It is the same with Greth when he must deal with you.” Telkas nodded.

He looked over to the crystal again. “I didn’t realize that the sound made it glow.

We have had glowstone for generations in Silas, and I never saw it.” She began to move over towards it, and he followed her, limping slightly less on his staff.

“It is much stronger with this bigger piece. Even still, only certain vibrations will

have it work the best. The light only comes with things of beauty.” She un-slung her bow.

A Jahe man was sitting, with a similar bow and a strange gourd a short distance away.

She looked over to him. “Brother, may I?” He looked up at her, saw her gesturing to the

gourd. He lowered his head in salutation and offered it to her. “Thank you.”

From the ground she picked a smooth stone. She balanced the gourd, which had a hollow opening, against the bowstring, in between the wood of the bow at the base of the weapon. She began to hum, and as she did she held the stone against the bowstring, raising and lowering it to produce a tone. Flicking the string with her fingernails, she produced a rippling series of notes, each of which struck the base of the crystal like invisible sonic pebbles thrown into a pond, making little ripples of light. She moved fast, the sound pouring from the bow, her voice adding a base to the music. Telkas

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remembered the flutes that they played in Silas, but they had not sounded anything like this.

His eyes fell across the bow itself; it was made of two interwound pieces of wood, one a deep reddish brown color, the other a lighter, sandy wood. They were intertwined and ground down to appear smooth, as one piece. Into this spiral were laid bits of iridescent shells and intricate carvings of interwound lines and spirals, which grew ever more complex before finishing out at either end, the spirals at the top and bottom twisting until they ended at the extreme tip. At that point the wood curved back on itself, pulling the powerful string back tightly. This weapon was deadly and beautiful, he thought, like its bearer.

Telkas realized that the weapon was both a thing of life, and a thing of death.

Maybe they were interlocked, like the religion of the Jahe. Maybe death and life were the same thing. He looked at Jayka, saw her happiness, saw her eyes close, become one with the sound she sent dripping into the crystal. This peace was something that all people should have.

If this religion, this way of living, of embracing change, was the way to happiness, then it should be something he would try to follow. The blind faith of the

Jordanus was not the answer to anything. He knew that, but had never had anything to replace it with save his dreams. He decided at that moment that he would try to find this

Kaleah and move with it.

Jayka grew quiet, and returned the gourd. “Telkas, don’t you have music in Silas.

He thought back to the flutes he had remembered earlier.

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“We do, but it isn’t like this. The tones you make with the string are much more powerful. We have a short tube, with holes bored into it, that when you breathe into it will also make sounds. Drums. But it is not viewed like this. It’s only a trivial thing in the deep. And it shouldn’t be. But in Silas everything is blindness, even the past. Everything revolves around the Jordanus, our council. The focus is on eating, surviving. There is nothing else except the earth gods, which are worshipped. We ask them for blessings, and don’t thank them.”

She was silent at this for a moment. “It seems like your people are locked away from life Telkas. I am sad for them. It is sad to not be thankful for life, and to only ask for more.”

He nodded.

“Are there no vision walks? Or anything like them?”

He shook his head.“There’s nothing like that. It’s only about existing, about who is able to have the nicest chamber, the finest clothes. There isn’t much to look at below I guess.” She frowned.

“No one thinks past this at all?” His thoughts suddenly turned to Jestea. She had thought about the outside. Thought about his models.

“There was one person. A girl.” Jayka smiled.

“Was she beautiful, Telkas?”

He looked up at her and smiled, one corner of the mouth downwards, sadly. “She was.”

“Was she yours?”

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“I had hoped so. But I was cast out, you know. Those thoughts left me. There was

no way I would take her with me. I thought that I was going to die. I didn’t want her to be

hurt.”

Jayka’s face fell a little. “It’s hard to lose someone who you shared life with. The

energy of life. Yes?”

He nodded, trying to cross his legs like Jayka. “Yes, it is hard. I still think about

her often.”

Jayka ran her fingers along the bow, feeling the carvings and ridges, the smooth

shell. “I also lost someone. He was taken by another woman.” Telkas thought she blushed

slightly in the dark. “Well, he was not bound to me. Did not give himself to me. I had

hoped for him, but it was not to be. He moved on to another village with her, and I chose

to follow a path for one.”

Telkas looked at her quizzically.

She grinned. “You may choose to live your life alone in this world, Telkas. I have my challenges from life, and my trade as a hunter, and my family. And it is enough, although I think of him sometimes.”

“Are you not looked upon differently because you chose this?”

Jayka chuckled. “It is a choice anyone can make, man or woman. We have many children in Valdea, and it is the right of the individual to choose not to court another. I have heard it’s different in Silas.” He nodded. He wondered if perhaps this was how he was meant to live, to devote himself to the work he had dreamed about.

“It is expected, Jayka, to take a wife or to be a wife.” She dropped one eyebrow,

smirking slightly.

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“This is hard to understand. You say that they run out of food, that they cut too much timber to make new homes and items, and yet they ask you to make children? More mouths to feed?”

“It does sound insane when you put it like that. The Jordanus and the elders are very set in their ways.” She stretched; pulling her arms and shoulders back. As she was yawning, he saw her white teeth.

“They are set on many things. Including their hatred for us.” Telkas rose up to his feet with the staff. “I am not one of those people, as much as Greth may think so.”

“Yes but you are of that people. Your legacy will be forever bound to that.”

“Not if my legacy is in creating something, something new.” She, still with her legs crossed, feet together, pushed through her legs, rising to a standing position, finally moving her ankles sideways, rolling onto the soles of her feet. He marveled at her strength.

“I think you may be right in some way, Telkas. Come, it is late and we have work tomorrow to do on your structures. And you must prepare yourself for Loka, as soon or as far away as it may come.” They made their way through the crowd towards their houses.

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CHAPTER VIII

FOUNDATION

Telkas awoke early; in his entire life he couldn’t remember being so cold. He sat in bed beneath his skins for longer than normal, at first surprised then fascinated by what looked like steam coming from his mouth. He passed his hands through it many times.

Though he was still impressed and touched more so by the five celebrations of change he had been able to be a part of, and though each experience with the sound was still unforgettable, he had never been so startled by an event like seeing his breath turn to cool steam. As he rose, he took a terrible shiver, and he wrapped a hide around his shoulders as he moved to the water bowl. There were tiny crystals of ice in it. He had seen ice before, dripping down some of the ventilation shafts in Silas, but without the warmth of the underground he was cut to the core by the temperature. In the five moon cycles he had been at Valdea, it had never been so cold.

After he re-stoked the fire from the night before, Telkas pulled some fish from a hanging string, and skewered them, setting them next to the young blaze. He moved over to the wall. There was a wooden platform and a stool against it. The platform was covered with fragments of wood and ore, bits of cut leather strap, and a small jar of grease from animal fat. At the center of the pile was a framework about the size of a

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human leg. He had been excited to try it out ever since he had put the finishing touches

on it the previous night.

As the construction progressed on the two domes, he had been finding it

increasingly hard to maneuver about them as the walls grew higher. Often his staff

proved too cumbersome, and although his arms and body had begun to grow stronger, his

leg had not improved much. He sat on the stool, pulling the contraption off of the table. It

was a series of interlocking bands of wood and leather, glued together with the binding

compound that the Jahe used to make their bows. Leather straps ran across these parallel

bands of wood, which made up two sections, one for the top of his leg, and one for the

bottom. The knee was made of two circular bands of wood, with small teeth within made

of ore. He held the lower part of the machine and pulled up, and the knee joint moved,

clicking slightly. It had taken him days and days to perfect that action; just responsive

enough for him to be able to move it with his leg (although it still didn’t always work)

and yet strong enough to bear weight, making his leg stronger. As a finishing touch, he

had carved two spirals representing the Kaleah on the outside of the rounded joint

system, and had placed bits of shell that Jayka had given him around its image. He

strapped it to his leg. He knew that he had finished it just in time. Jayka poked her head

into the house, and a gust of cold air flowed in through the flap. He shivered again.

“Come, we are ready to move the stone today.” She looked at his leg. “What in

life is that?”

“It’s supposed to give me back my leg.” He grinned, raising onto his feet and

stumbling forward. She instinctively rushed forward to catch him. She had leggings, which he had seen her wear before as the weather grew colder. They had fur inside of

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them, dyed the same crimson as her riding leggings, but her torso was now covered by a

close fitting leather shirt, a natural color, tied with a leather strap. Her arms were bare.

Telkas held himself, without the staff. He walked around the center of the house,

his leg clicking occasionally.

She smiled at him, shaking her head. “You are a wonder, Telkas.” She bent to examine the workmanship. “So this is what you wanted the shells for. It’s very beautiful.”

“Thank you. It’s also functional.”

“So I see. You’ll find a surprise outside.”

Beyond the flap was Greth, holding a small bundle. Telkas clicked outside the house, after Jayka put out the fire, bringing the skewer of fish which he had forgotten.

Greth looked bothered, but bowed stiffly to Telkas.

Telkas was taken aback, but returned the bow. Greth had been acting nicer in the last few moons, helping with the location of good building rock and with the moving of earth in hide slings. It was he who had found the stone that they were to use for the first cap of the domes, but he had used every excuse to move away from the constructions, and Telkas, as he could.

Greth looked at Jayka, and then thrust his hands out. “Here, boy.” Greth handed

the bundle to Telkas, who unwrapped it. It was a long leather coat, sewn together from

pieces of thick hide. He put it on. It fell to his knees, but the sleeves were the right length.

The sides of the coat were embroidered with thin leather strap and thread, showing

intricate designs of swirls, and panels with what looked like the design of the foundations

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he had build, four V’s with their corners pointing inwards, in places on the chest and

shoulders. Telkas couldn’t think of anything to say. He stared at Greth, who turned away.

“I didn’t make it.” He growled. It was a gift from some of the menders. It’s not

my kind of work.”

Telkas smiled. “But it was mine.”

Greth looked at him strangely.

“I held that job in Silas, Greth. This is a fine piece of workmanship, and I won’t forget the kindness. I appreciate it deeply.” Greth spit again, not like he had done at times before, obviously directing it away from Telkas.

“Well, good. Let’s get on with it.” He grumbled, meaning the work. He walked

briskly ahead of the two of them, towards the stables.

Jayka suppressed a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, it’s him. My family made that, but he asked to hold it while I went in to get

you. I think he wanted to give it to you.”

“I don’t believe it. I mean I know that he has been nicer lately, but this is

unusual.”

“It may be unusual, but he has seen more of your work, your abilities, than many

of the people.”

Telkas stopped walking. “What do you mean many of the people? Apart from you and Fewald sometimes, no one else has helped us cut the stone, or shape it, or move it…”

“ Many of the people have been out to see your work on days that you have not been working on it, when we rest.”

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Telkas was startled. “Why haven’t you told me this before?”

“I am telling you now. I have heard the people talking some, my family most of all. They see how I smile, and am made happy by your energy. I believe that Greth is as well. He isn’t immune to it.” Telkas scratched his head; his hair had grown longer than it had ever been.

As they made their way to the stable, towards the northern end of the village,

Telkas was greeted by many bows; Jahe would pause and nod their heads to him in acknowledgement. He returned them all.

Jayka laughed at him. “You don’t need to return every bow Telkas. It can be assumed with a nod.”

He straightened.

“That thing you’ve made seems to be working.”

He had to agree. It was easy to move about with it; much less odd than leaning on the staff. “Although,” he thought aloud, “It has to be tested. I was hoping to get it to work today, so that I could go up to the cliff ledge that Greth found and help with the stone.”

She shot him a look of concern. “I don’t know. I’ve seen it too. It’s a pretty big climb.”

“You know we will need all three of us to get it from its place.”

She said nothing, but he knew he was right. It had always been hard to find stones that were the right size; even if they had to be trimmed a bit to get them to fit snugly. The center stone had to be six sided to evenly pressure all of the sides of the wall, and they had looked for a good one for days. Greth had finally located one up the slender pathway, at the huge ledge he had discovered several moon cycles earlier, the first time Fewald had

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visited. Now they had to get it from its perch to the ground and drag it to where it could

be shaped and set in place.

They were close to the paddock. Just before they left the postern gate, a hand

gripped Telkas’s shoulder.

It was Fewald. “Telkas, I bring a word from my father. He asks to see you before sundown.”

Jayka smiled, Telkas stood up straighter, and his leg clicked. Fewald looked down. “By my life. What have you made this time? A new leg?”

Telkas grinned.

“You truly are amazing, my friend. May I tell him to expect you?” Telkas nodded.

“Beautiful. I will tell him. Good luck with your task today.” He left them, walking over to the lodge.

“Are you nervous?” Her eyes were a bit concerned.

“I don’t think so. Isn’t it best to focus on our goal?”

“I would think so. Of course. We must focus on it.” Her eyes were serious, voice firm.

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CHAPTER IX

THE KEY

The three Ze’dayo and their passengers trod the now worn path to the buildings.

Greth had been riding with them for some time now, albeit at the head of the train and always a distance in the lead. The forest was quiet, the creatures waking up, stirring, soft movements betraying life within the trees. Telkas leaned back on the animal’s back; he breathed the crisp air in deep. He gripped his own shoulder; noticing that it felt larger somehow. His whole body had grown in strength over the time he had spent there, and it felt good in a way, made him warm and full of energy whenever he would lift stone, or move objects around. Under his hand he could feel the blood pumping beneath his skin and clothes.

The building site now housed two large stone domes, their white surfaces damp with dew that the sun had just begun to burn off of their tops. They were half hemispheres, and out of three sides projected smaller additions, arched and blended into the main part of the dome. The sides of the closest one had not been closed off yet and large spills of sand and rock filled it; but the furthest one had been given stone and wood walls to close off the openings, to hold in the mounds of sand inside that still supported

the roof. At their rear, small towers of stone projected upwards at the point where the

fourth opening existed.

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Greth was already dismounted. “I’ll grab the sleds, and we can get moving right

away.” He moved beneath a makeshift lean-to that graced the back of the eastern hut,

disheveled like a bag of old skin over a dead, dehydrated animal. He ducked inside it and

began to rummage around.

The dappled light gathered like condensation in shifting patches, littered across

the forest floor. Telkas, brace clicking, knelt without the use of a staff. His leg strained,

but held his weight, and a slight rush filled his chest. He was more mobile, more self-

dependent, than he had been in a long time. The expression on his face broadcast his

feelings.

Jayka leaned against a pile of chipped rock, hands on her knees. “It must be nice

to be able to finally move like that by yourself.”

Telkas nodded. From the flap of the lean-to, Greth emerged, two leather straps in

his hand. From within, two long skids made of bone and wood emerged, one atop the

other. They were a little bit longer than he was tall. Telkas watched Greth go off up the

path, to the embankment of sandy soil that began a short distance from the huts. He

grabbed the Ze’Dayo and tied the stacked sleds to its neck. Then he led the animal up the embankment. While he watched, Telkas flipped a stone over with his foot. “Yes, it’s nice.” He said finally. “More than you could know.”

Leaning forward, placing his weight onto his toes, Telkas attempted to rise from his squatting position. He was able to straighten the braceless leg, but his contraption failed to click itself out of its bend. Jayka laughed while he fumbled with the mechanism at the joint until it released, hopping oddly on one foot for a moment.

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She held her hand to her mouth, watching him. “Maybe it’s not as nice as you think.” He glared at her. Jayka shook her head. “You know, it is not a surprise that the people have begun to like you, Telkas.”

He looked up at her, finally having straightened himself. They could hear the scraping sounds of Greth’s sleds fading as the soil turned entirely to sand in the canyon above. “I thought that somehow it would take longer to feel comfortable here. Greth seems to have changed fast. Really, all of you have been accepting. It’s strange.”

Jayka cocked her head to the side for a moment, and then straightened it. “It’s not strange. Or maybe it is for you. Your people do not accept others as freely as we. It is our custom to be like this. I would say that the underworlders make it their custom to hate anything that isn’t made of their own. I’ve seen it, and heard it. The Jahe don’t do this.”

Telkas frowned. “I think you’re right, in a way. There are a lot of things that we fear. There has been a history of that, back there. It’s what kept us alive for generations.

But not all of us hate things that are different. The people with power—those are who make everyone act the way they do. They won’t listen to new things, new ideas. I’ve talked about this before.”

Jayka nodded, raising herself with a swift push of her hands from the rock pile.

“Yes. You talk a lot about your leaders. But aren’t there people who would change this?

Some person who can help?”

Telkas fell silent, averting his gaze from Jayka. She always seemed to bring this up, the idea of him helping the others in Silas. He had told her many times how he was no leader, but she never listened. He decided to drop it for the time being. “Let’s get moving.”

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Jayka cast a slant-eyed glance at him, but he started off towards the raised mound of sandy material. It was a steep pile of dark particles, mixed with bits of broken rocks that had fallen from the cliffs above. Where the mound emerged, there was an enormous cleft in the high cliffs. Brilliant sunlight cut sharp shadows against the high gray cliff faces, extending northwards along the ever-increasing slope. They made their way up it, slowly. Telkas grasped for the knotted line of leather strap-rope which dangled along the left hand side of the cliff that he had used to drag himself up it before. Now, his leg was able to do a lot more of the work, and he moved faster than before. His sandals sank into the grainy floor, bits of sharp rock wound themselves between the smooth soles and his feet, biting him. Looking down he saw the tracks from the sled, already disappearing, bits of pebbles sliding into the crevice, smoothing it out.

“I don’t understand why Greth has been so helpful lately.” Telkas looked up at her, but Jayka gave no indication that she had heard, continuing her climb up the slope.

“Well what is it with him? I really can’t buy it, you know. It just doesn’t make sense.”

Jayka turned to face him, whipping her head around right in front of him and catching him off guard. “You know, that’s the problem you have, Telkas. Don’t stop thoughts by thinking that every person will have the same ones as you do. Greth has seen what you imagined to build. It’s unlike anything we’ve ever seen. I think it means more than you do, and he may think so too.”

Telkas was taken aback, his mouth hung slightly open. “Jayka, I—I…” Then he hung his head. “Listen, Jayka, my buildings… I mean I thought that they could be something, you know? I thought that they could be something great. That it might mean a new place for all of the Silaseans, or at least somewhere for them to feel comfortable. I

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thought that a new home was all we needed. But there’s a lot more than a new roof that needs fixed, and I can’t give it to them. I know you think that I should try to help, or something, but there’s no way I could ever do that. I can’t go back to Silas, it isn’t right…” Jayka’s eyes were full, fierce. Telkas saw a look in them he didn’t understand.

She looked at the rope he had fashioned, and gripped it. “Telkas, you do more than build shelters. Look at your leg, at this rope. You knotted this to solve a problem, just like your leg machine, and like these homes. I think that’s what Loka saw in you when he asked us to watch over you. It’s not the building, it’s just that you were able to make them. You change things. You have the gift to do so, not just for you, but for others. If you can’t see the power of this, then perhaps you are more blind now than when you came out of the earth.” Without another word, she turned and made her way up the rest of the slope and over the crest.

Telkas kept his lips pursed tight. The rest of the incline began to become shallower after a raised hump of sand marked the highest point of fill in between the narrow cliff passage. There were scrabbles of small weak plants wedged in the gaps between larger stones, choking with sand. Their wispy stalks strained towards the sharp light above, and Telkas trampled them underfoot. He set his jaw firmly against the bottoms of his upper teeth, clenching in thought. There were so many differences between him and the Jahe. Or maybe it was just Jayka.

The only way to motivate people to do something is by pressure. Telkas had seen this time and time again in the caverns. But it had to be done right. If you pressured someone with threats, or negative speech, it would lead to them hating you. All Telkas

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had to do was figure out how to put some pressure on Greth to really come out with how

he felt.

The canyon took a turn, and beyond it the ground leveled out. The walls of sandy stone continued northwest, the angle of the sun hitting it just right, lighting up the sides and showing their rich, sandy texture. Stratified layers of dark granite sliced them, separating them into several disjointed parts. On the left, as he dropped the leather rope

(it was affixed to a large boulder on the right-hand side), Telkas saw the outcropping, a decent distance above. On the pinnacle of that outcropping, Greth sat, legs swinging out over the edge. Jayka was below him.

Greth stood when he saw Telkas arrive. “What took you so long? Or is your machine not working properly?”

There was a tone in his voice that seemed almost playful, although on the surface most people wouldn’t have noticed it. Telkas wondered if he had pegged Greth wrong from the start. Maybe he had always somehow been like this. Telkas remembered, however, Greth’s words with Loka when they had first met, and dismissed this idea.

Something had happened recently.

Telkas walked up to the bottom of the outcropping, choosing not to respond to

Greth’s comment. The air flowed more freely, as they were higher up, and despite his

new coat, Telkas felt a chill as it gusted slightly. “It works just fine.” He said after a

while. “Better than the staff, that is.” He looked at the sleds, sitting directly below the

outcropping. “Aren’t you forgetting that if a rock falls off the edge, we’ll have nothing to

drag the crown-stone down with?”

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Greth looked over the edge. Jayka emerged from behind a rocky outcropping, brushing her hands off from something. “It’s a good point.” She said curtly.

Greth shrugged, and vanished again behind the ledge. From beyond it Telkas heard his voice come, grumbling.

“I still don’t see how these are going to hold anything up, really. The other home is standing, but we continue to pack more earth and sand into the openings. The weight of this rock will only squash out the sides. Our work is wasted, boy.”

Normally, Greth’s reproach for something he felt was a mistake would have been scathing, but again, he was abnormally lenient. He let the phrase fall flat, as if he were waiting for Telkas to explain it away. The boy sighed.

“Greth, the weight of our crown-stones will put pressure on the rocks, but it will press on the earth, and not outwards, because of the angle. I’ve explained this before.”

Greth grunted form out of sight. “We will see. Now how am I supposed to get you up here? With the rope as before?” Greth tugged on a slender strap that was secured to an unseen anchor beyond him. It dangled over the side and lay loosely atop the pile.

Telkas grimaced. “No, I can manage, I think.” He remembered the awkward hauling straps that Greth had used to pull him up to the ledge, over the overhang where they had first found the stone, some time ago. He would be able to move up the slag this time, surely. He moved, and stood at its base. It was a steep pile of loose rock that slid down like a ramp from the ledge where Greth was perched, probably securing more padding to the rock. It was a challenge for a normal person to scramble up it, half sliding.

He pressed his braced leg tentatively onto the heap, and watched it slide through the

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pebbles and stone. Maybe with Jayka.” He raised his voice slightly at mentioning her

name, and she looked over at him, and after a pause, smiled lightly.

“Always in need of help. Every time there is a little hill.”

Telkas gave her a look.

“Well, more than a hill, I admit.” Her smile grew, and she came to his side,

gripping the rope and gesturing up it. “You first.”

Telkas gripped with his hands, taking his weight off of his bad leg. He buried it

into the rocks, feeling smaller bits of rock filling his sandal again. They were sharp. With

both hands, he pulled, stepping up onto the pile. He went slowly, pushing mostly off of

his good leg, and pulling with his hands. Soon his arms began to burn, even though the

distance was barely four or five times his height, and on an incline. Jayka followed him

closely, her feet slipping under the piles of pebbles he let loose.

At the top, his leg began to burn. Breathing heavily, he reached for Greth’s outstretched arm, which he hadn’t seen before because of his concentration.

“Here.” Greth said, pulling Telkas up onto solid rock. “Well that wasn’t so terrible, was it? Didn’t even need Jayka there. Maybe you will be useful after all with that thing.” Telkas sat, breathing heavily, and nodded in response. It seemed weird to Telkas, the exchanges they were having. It was almost pleasant. He looked behind Greth.

The ledge was made by a vein of stronger granite which had taken longer to wear away than the softer sandy rock around it. The granite was hard to chip, and they had looked around for a long time trying to find a large enough piece to place in the tops of the buildings. Atop this ledge, Greth had found a boulder that would work: it was almost exactly the right size, it was just about as high as his knee, and twice as big as both of his

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arms in a circle. Only a protruding chunk would need to be removed on the closer end. It sat, where Greth and Jayka had levered it before, wrapped in the skins and cloth that

Telkas had asked Fewald for some weeks ago. Only the dark grey top remained exposed; and it was this that Greth had been working on covering before they had arrived. A loose flap of fur lay hanging over the side.

Greth had been staring at Telkas. “You are sleeping awake, boy. What’s your plan?”

Telkas snapped his gaze to the man. “Sleeping awake?”

Greth thought a moment. “People can’t talk to you when you sleep. You can’t hear them. But sometimes people look away, and are thinking, or not thinking but unable to hear you. It’s almost like they are dreaming in the day, connecting with other things beyond them. Then it’s like they are sleeping, but awake. Haven’t you heard of that?”

Telkas nodded. “But, not like the Jahe think of it. For us it’s just called not paying attention.”

Greth rolled his eyes. “Yes, I should have guessed. No thought put into it.” Greth turned to Jayka, who was re-knotting the rope to make sure it stayed attached to the large rock in the cliff wall. “Someone who can move fast should be down there, to help in some way. Maybe shove it, or something.”

“Of course it should be me.” She laughed, but then nodded. Jayka threw her legs off the edge of the embankment, and letting her heels catch the ramp of debris, slid down the pile to the bottom. Before she slid onto the pile she gracefully whipped her bow off and into her raised hands. “That hurt a little more than I thought it would.” Telkas chuckled.

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“I think we should be able to wrap this up the rest of the way, and let it slide down the pile, like we talked about yesterday.” Telkas said, loud enough for Jayka to hear.

Greth began to tie up the top of the animal hide.

Telkas looked over the edge. “Jayka, if it stops rolling you should be able to tug on the rope from down there to make sure it doesn’t slide the wrong way. Can you help us pull from where the sleds are? We don’t want it to somehow get off track. If it gets carried away you can move out of the way fast enough to not be dangerous, right?” She emitted a short whooping sound that Telkas had come to know meant that she was in agreement.

There was a coil of knot-hide ropes next to the crown-stone, and Telkas walked over to them. With Greth’s help they affixed them around the stone, and positioned it in a balanced way overtop a series of small logs that they laid out, which they had collected the day before to roll underneath it. Unfortunately, it had gotten too dark for them to continue the plan then. Telkas threw one of the ropes over the side to Jayka, and after a moment saw it draw tighter in her unseen grip below.

When they were ready, Telkas called down to Jayka to warn her. “Watch out, we’re ready!” he called. She whooped again. Greth and Telkas began to push the boulder.

It tipped at first, after Greth kicked the wooden wedge out that kept it balanced, and they were able to move it onto and over the logs, towards the edge and the slag heap beyond.

Telkas looked at Greth.

“So why do you all of a sudden care about helping us Greth?”

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Greth turned his head sharply, his long graying hair flipped coarsely over his

shoulder. “I have been here to help since Loka assigned me to you. I have done

everything I was asked to do. Why are you asking this question?”

“You have been doing more things, helping lately. Why the change?”

“I’ve always helped you. There is no change, boy. My thoughts remain the same.”

Telkas gritted his teeth. The boulder picked up speed. “I think you have been enjoying it more.”

Greth cast a quick glance with one eye at Telkas. “I learn to enjoy what life gives

me. You might do the same.” He darted his gaze back to the rock.

“I do enjoy it. There are things here I never got to do. New people that I have

gotten to know. But I tried to accept them from the beginning.”

Greth grunted and spit again, nearly hitting Telkas’s shoe. “Maybe you didn’t

have a reason to hate them.”

Telkas snapped. “So why do you hate us then, Greth? Why pretend you hate

everything? You know, people may be cruel, and may hurt or kill, but not all people are

like that. Not all people are like you, so slow to forgive.”

In an instant the boulder moved onto the pile, beginning to gather speed. The two

strained against the leather straps, and slowly the stone moved forward. Jayka called for

them to pull harder, and they did so. The stone was out of their sight, dropping faster and

pulling the cables from their hands. The stone shifted, pulling the cables out towards the

open overhang, and they rubbed on the cliff, leading out into the empty space. Telkas

gripped the rope harder, and in an instant he was on his back, the cable dragging him

closer to the edge. He let go, but not before one of the knotted bits of leather caught itself

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in the brace. His leg twisted, pulled at his body, moving it along, scattering the small logs

in his path. At first, he couldn’t figure out what was happening.

Telkas skidded towards the edge. Greth shouted for Jayka to stop the stone.

Over the sliding sounds of stone she yelled, “Would you like me to place it in the roof too?” Then, Telkas cried in pain.

Greth moved fast, covering the distance and unsheathing a small knife while still trying to slow the stone’s descent with his free hand on the other rope. He slashed at the leather where it caught, notching the wooden brace. Telkas moved faster towards the edge, pulling against the smooth stone, trying to find a grip. Greth slashed again.

The rope came free. Greth was jerked towards the edge by the other rope;

hurredly he flung it from his hand, letting go. There was a sliding, crashing sound from

beneath. Then, a yell from below.

“Are you two alright? Say something.” Cried a panicked Jayka. Telkas tried to

catch his breath.

Greth nodded, looked back at Telkas on the ground, and walked to the edge of the

escarpment. “We’re fine.” He called down to her. Greth looked back at Telkas. There was

something in his eyes that smoldered, deep in the recesses of color that made up his dark

eyes. Telkas couldn’t place it at first, but then Greath made a gesture.

“You should go home for today, boy. Enough has happened for one morning to

suit me for several mornings. I’m leaving.” At that moment, Greth threw his hand into a

point, indicating the scratch marks in the rock. “That could have been your death. Or

mine.”

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Telkas said nothing. As Greth made his way down the embankment, Telkas turned over in his mind the idea that had reared up within him. As Greth had pointed,

Telkas imagined the hand turning into a claw, whitening, his wrinkles deepening, that smoldering anger in the eyes consuming from within. Telkas had seen the Jordanus.

He sat for some time. Birds soared overhead, great black beasts, their outlines making a shallow angle against the blue. He tried to put pressure on his leg, but the pain was intense. The whole time, although he didn’t know what they were, he felt words struggling to come out of his mouth, to say something to the pair in the valley below, but he said nothing. Telkas knelt on his good leg, peering over the edge of the escarpment.

He was pretty sure they would at least say something to him, certainly before leaving.

He watched them talking in low tones. The sun was high overhead, making his shadow small, but doing nothing to combat the biting wind. They were packing one of the sleds with the smaller rock slabs, sliding them off the top of the pile they had gathered, and making a small stack in the center of the long wooden contraption. They tied the leading straps to one of their mounts, and began to lead it back down the ravine.

As Telkas watched, he realized she wasn’t going to wait for him. Greth paused for a moment just before the bend in the small canyon, looking back up at him, and they were gone. He laid the rest of the way down on the hard surface beneath him. He had long ago stopped using his goggles, and the clear blue sky above him was brighter, he thought, than usual, and un-diminished by his eyepieces. He placed his hands behind his head.

“If there are people that need to be told something, and they really want to hear it…” Telkas said to no one, “Then they will find someone to listen to. It doesn’t matter who they are. Whoever has the loudest voice, will be heard. Heard!” This last word he

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yelled, sending a faint echo throughout the canyon. A small bird landed on the

outcropping not far from him. It was white, down puffed up to insulate its tiny body from the heat. It cocked its head, and watched him.

“I don’t suppose you want to listen, do you?” The bird looked over the edge,

spread its wings, and dove off, flapping away.

Telkas rolled over to the edge. Like a log, he slowly moved over and over, his

brace thumping against the rock as it rotated. Looking down at the rope, the shifting ramp

of loose rock, he watched bits of stone still dropping and rolling from where they had

been disturbed not so very long before. He remembered when he was little, when he

would roll around on the ground or do flops, end over end. It seemed such a faint

memory, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t remember when he had been like that. It must

have been when his parents were still with him.

Hours passed slowly.

Eventually he examined his brace finding that little real damage had been done.

Some of the shell spiral had been knocked out, lost. He would have to remember to repair

that later. Other than cosmetically, it seemed to be operating properly. He clicked it up

and down. It seemed to be working a little rough, but it was working.

With some trouble he was able to lower himself down onto the debris below and

make his way downwards on his backside. At his feet as he reached the bottom was the boulder. It sat, still wrapped in its protective layer, ropes strewn about haphazardly.

“This is your fault.” He said, pointing a finger at it.

The rock sat there.

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“You had to pull me down, and give me the opportunity to push Greth. I wouldn’t have been able to say those things otherwise.”

A shadow passed over the sun. Clouds had begun to gather, faint white wisps that drifted high above him. As the mottled mass of dark patches floated over the ravine, they passed over the stone. For an instant, it seemed to change shape, in an indefinable way.

Then, for just a moment, it became a face.

It was clearly young, light skinned, and with dark hair. Jestea looked up at him, but when he blinked his eyes, it was gone. The cloud’s shadow had left, and there was only the crown-stone, dark, grey, and mute. Maybe he was going crazy.

“Damn.” He whispered. Sitting for a moment on the edge of the second sled, he let his thoughts drift back to her. He remembered their last words together. She had thought that he could lead them away from Silas, to a new land. With a pang he realized that he indeed could have brought her here, to live, away from the Jordanus and that councilman. She was probably his now. His hand gripped the smooth wood of the sled until his knuckles went white.

Jestea had trusted him, wanted to follow him. But he hadn’t let her come. He was certain that he would die, that he would just be leading her to her death too. Why hadn’t he tried? If he had, she might even be with him now.

Telkas kicked at the ground with his good leg, sending a small stone skimming into the padded boulder. People were so quick to think that he was such a great leader, but in truth he had never been able to lead much of anything. He just didn’t have the courage. Telkas sighed, shoulders drooped. He took a seat on a pile of rock.

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Someone slapped him on the back. Telkas looked up to find Fewald, concerned, looking down at him. “Having trouble? Or did you plan to move this, padded rock, by yourself? I know sometimes I have no idea what you are up to.” Fewald scratched his head, gesturing to the crown-stone.

Telkas smiled. “I woudn’t have expected you here today.”

“I decided to come out myself, I had some time.”

Telkas frowned, looking up at Fewald. “Why do you want to come around and see these buildings, Fewald? Why do you want to see what I’m doing?”

Fewald considered. “It’s new.”

“It’s new?”

“Yes. I haven’t ever seen anything that looks like what you are doing. Or, for that matter, the other things you do.” Fewald gestured towards the brace. “A lot of people put a lot of stock into destiny, or the power you are born with. But it’s really what you make yourself. Understand?”

Telkas continued looking at him, and narrowed his glance. “You talked to Jayka didn’t you?”

Fewald nodded. “I was going to see you, and met them on the way here. A lot of people expect things from you, Telkas.”

“Yes, they do.” Telkas sat his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. “She didn’t wait for me, you know.”

Fewald frowned. “What do you mean? Greth said you had had an accident, and wanted to look over the place yourself.”

Telkas shrugged. “I suppose so.”

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Fewald knelt beside Telkas. “If you are having troubles with Greth, speak up to him. He is reasonable if you are strong, and show him that. If you are in a place to lead, that is how it goes.”

“Fewald, I don’t want to lead anything. All I’ll ever cause is trouble for people. I can’t even lead two people right.”

I think you’ve done well. You aren’t from Valdea. You aren’t even from the above-lands. It’s not like you are even from another people.”

Telkas perked up. “What does that mean, another people?”

Fewald looked surprised. “Surely you couldn’t think that we are the only ones living above the ground?”

The look on Telkas’s face betrayed that he had. Fewald laughed. “No matter. You have made some interesting stuff while you have been here. As for me, I don’t listen to fate, or to people. If you find the time is right, only you can choose to lead. Not fate, or any other. Understand?”

Telkas nodded, smiling a little.

“Except now, when you must take up one role as leader.” Telkas looked confused.

Fewald gestured towards the rock. “Help me lead this rock onto this skid, and then we will lead it down the slope to your buildings.”

Telkas grinned, and stood.

###

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Later, Fewald spoke with Telkas in his home, near to Loka’s lodge. Fewald was

on his feet, Telkas sitting on the earthen floor about a small fire in the hearth. It was

much like Telkas’s house, albeit larger, and filled with shell inlay and carved pillars.

“Telkas you can’t allow the strength of another man to keep you from what you are doing. In this world, many will try to convince you that whatever you are most driven to do isn’t the most important thing to accomplish. Often it’s only that the goal isn’t what they themselves want to champion.”

Telkas pushed a burning ember further into the blaze with a small stick, finally

shoving the kindling entirely in. The fire flickered, consuming it. “I know that, Fewald.

I’ve had people oppose me before. The problem is that I don’t feel he is trying to stop me

for any reason. He simply argues and puts forth barriers without cause. There’s nothing

that drives him to opposition, he just does it. And then, when he saved me today. What is

the reason behind that? Nothing that I can understand.”

Fewald shook his head. “There is always a reason. Greth may not even know what

it is, but there is always a cause, even rooted in dark pasts, for action. If Greth has

focused on you as a reason for his problems, even unknowingly, then you must resolve it.

In the end it is the kindest thing for both people. Learning is the only way to fight this rift.”

Telkas looked at Fewald. His face betrayed what almost appeared to be anger. “I

don’t want conflict. I just want him to let me be. I am going to ask Loka for another

person to come and work the stone.”

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Fewald stood still. He folded his arms, lowered his voice. “The chief is doing the best thing for both of you, Telkas. You do not have the gall to ask such a thing of him. Even I wouldn’t do that. Remember the kindness bestowed upon you by the Jahe.”

Telkas rose. “I do remember it, and my gratitude is greater than you can know.

But that doesn’t mean that I have to agree with everything you are doing.” He bowed stiffly.

Fewald did not return the bow, as Telkas exited the house, pulling the soft skin barrier behind him.

The wind blew coldly, harsh across the skin of his cheek. His brace clicked oddly, haphazardly and more noticeably than before. He needed to look at it soon, but his mind was too clouded to pay any attention to it now. He would go for a walk.

The air was penetrating, the sky clear. Amidst the glow of the fires, only the brightest stars peered from the darkness above, the slight glow of the purpling light faded from the horizon beyond the ocean, now partially screened by the forest.

The Jahe were quiet, to Telkas they seemed to be watching him, passing by in the silhouette of night in two’s and three’s, turning their heads to a stone or some unheard sound when he caught them looking. He needed to get away from them, whether they were really eyeing him with distain or not.

The giant crystal in the center of town was dim, swirling lines of light dimly dancing inside its semi-opaque walls. He made his way quickly past it, through the quieting city. The gateway was slightly agape, just wide enough for one person to slip through. The guards perched atop the walls, or watched the landscape beyond, staring into the twilight. This chapter sucks. I don’t want to finish writing it.

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A foulness, so faint that Telkas second-guessed his senses, hung in the suddenly still air outside of the compound. He walked out of the torch lit entrance and ambled to the right, around the corner of the walls. The ambience was quieter there, in a way that made him want to look over his shoulder. Thoughts of Silas crept into his mind.

There was little he could do, he imagined, that could help the people still underground. It might be better for them if they stayed, in fact. People didn’t seem to want to change, whatever their origins. Greth didn’t seem to want to change. The same was true for Jestea. And regardless of them, what could he do about it? He was just a boy.

Telkas leaned against the evening-damp wood of the barricade. Little flickering of light curled and glowed along the spiked tops of the logs, revealing the modest activity beyond, the ghosts of the day dying out, one by one, melting into the night colors like snowflakes on sun-warmed stone. His Silasean vision began again to aid him, picking out the dark forms of trees, the shadows of rocks, and the vague shapes of forest plants that covered the distance between the massive cliffs beyond.

He wondered what she was doing. His mind drifted to her face, slender and light, in the blue caverns in the lower chambers. He remembered his vision of her, the lines of her dark hair about her small shoulders, winding slightly once about themselves before resting on her chest. In his mind she seemed sad. He sighed, trying to force her to smile, but for some reason that irritated him immensely, he could not force the corners of her mouth upwards.

Towards the entrance of Valdea, Telkas saw a dark shape move from the forest, across the path, and towards the timber wall. He groped absentmindedly for his staff, realized it wasn’t there, and started to follow. Whatever the figure was, it wasn’t carrying

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a bow. It was best to take a look. The dark outline leaned against the barricade, as he had

done. As he approached, he heard a voice call out.

“Are you following me, underworlder?” Then, a cough. It was Greth.

“I was outside thinking. It’s not a crime.”

“Am I accusing you?” Greth spit. “I woudn’t think of doing that. Not to the pet project of Fewald. It seems you can do no wrong.”

Telkas lowered his head, breathed deeply. “I didn’t come out here tonight to argue. But it seems that’s all you want to do. I’m not interested.” He began to walk around Greth, and as he passed the man, Greth stood up, walking strangely close to

Telkas. Telkas walked faster.

They made their way to the front of the wall, towards the entrance and into more light. Telkas was aware of Greth, still uncomfortably close.

Greth spoke, in a low voice. “Why don’t you just leave, boy?”

Telkas had had enough. He stopped suddenly, causing Greth to nearly run into him. “And why, Greth? This place is as much my home now as it’s yours. Why do you hate me so much?”

Greth scowled, his face seemed older, haggard in some way. He attempted to shove past Telkas, but the boy would not move. He put his face in, close, nearly nose to nose. “I could kill you if I wanted. Don’t forget.”

Telkas said nothing, staring back into his face. The wind pulled back and tousled the corners of his long coat; giving it energy and making him appear larger than he was.

The light of the bond fires about the village at his back outlined his silhouette, framed by

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the open doorway of Valdea. “Why did you save me? What was the point, if you want me

out of here? Just let me rot, if you can kill me so easily. Just do it.”

Greth turned away from him. He threw the rock he was carrying; they heard it skitter into the shrubs beyond their sight. “I—I don’t want you dead. But you cannot be a part of this. It would have been better if you’d never left the Underworld, or seen any of this.”

“Why”? So I can go back and report on all of your secrets? Greth, the Jordanus wouldn’t believe me if I tried to tell him what is going on here. Not that it matters.

You’re well protected.”

Greth whipped around, looked him in the eye. “Not all of us are so lucky. The walls and hunters are new additions, Telkas. It’s because of the cruelties I’ve seen, the things your people have done to me. I have always been ready for another war, because of you. Because of the hatred your people have for us.”

Telkas kicked the dry soil, peppering Greth. “You are a closed-minded fool. Can’t you see that’s what you have been doing yourself? There will be no end, if it’s allowed to continue. How long has it been since an attack?”

But Greth didn’t move. At first Telkas thought he was being ignored, however as he opened his mouth to remonstrate, he saw that Greth was not looking at him any longer.

Instead, his eyes had an intense focus on the group of bushes into which he had just

thrown the rock. Quietly, as Telkas watched, he unsheathed his knife and moved, stalking

something unseen.

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A dozen steps from the foliage, the bush erupted in movement. Greth lunged forwards, and after a momentary struggle, pulled a writhing form from the darkness. It was a man.

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CHAPTER X

REFUGEES

“Who are you, a spy?” Greth shook the man hard by his shoulders. He pulled the man by his collar over to the palisade, although there was little left to the man’s garments.

Telkas thought it was very strange, but the man, after his initial struggle, let himself hang and be pulled over to the wall.

Greth fumed. “Not talking? We will see. You’re a pretty bad spy. I assume you are getting weak down there. Who else is with you?” Greth slammed the man against the wall, making him cough violently., Then, without pausing for a response he yelled,

“Answer the question!”

By this time, other guards had begun to gather. Some of them brought fragments of glowstone attached to their bows. The faint green light revealed a haggard face beneath a hood, with sharp lines, pale skin, and large eyes. Telkas knew at once that this man was indeed from Silas. He drew back into the group of hunters, drawing up his own hood. Greth continued to interrogate the man, and after a short time, all he could do was point back towards the bushes.

Greth motioned for some of the guards to go and look. Greth watched as they pulled another form out of the bushes. “How many are you?” he screamed, shaking the

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man hard. The Silasean’s head bobbed down limply onto his chest, and he spoke, voice

parched.

“None. Us—is all there are. We just wanted to—.”

“Silence.” Greth brought his hand down on the side of the man’s face, and he collapsed against the wall in a slump, Greth standing over, his hand still raised.

Telkas couldn’t help himself. “What is wrong with you? Stop!” he pushed aside the few Silaseans still around them. By this time the guards had returned with the other figure, a woman. She seemed nearly unconscious, and so thin that a huntress carried her in her arms. The huntress gently placed her next to the other.

They looked cold. The two were thin in a way that was familiar to Telkas and so different at the same time. Their skin was the terrible part. It wasn’t pale. He thought back to how he envisioned himself as he left the caves of Silas. Light skin, soft and easily hurt by the sun’s flame. The time outside had given him a darker shell, but he had always felt full of life. Instead, their skin was empty, nearly devoid of life.

Telkas moved closer to them. “Greth, these people are not spies. They’re barely alive. Look at their bodies, their clothes.”

Greth stared for a moment at the two, wrapped in shreds, leaned against the wooden frame of the walls, eyes widened, dilated, seeing nothing about them. Their skin was cold and fishlike, and no fat lay beneath to keep them warm. Telkas could see the lines of blood beneath, pulsating weakly as they panted, giving the illusion of movement, the limbs of a spider encased in icy skin.

The man, his light hair matted and plastered to the side of his burnt face, looked up after several minutes. His eyes were blue.

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“Water, please. Water.”

Greth held his hand up, staying the guard about to leave presumably for water.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” The man was silent, looking at the ground. “Give

me an answer underworlder.” Greth shook the man violently, forcing him to splay out his

arms wildly to stay balanced. His mouth remained closed, and he refused to move.

Telkas gripped Greth’s arm. “Stop it. It’s clear that these people have no reason to

hurt us. Something’s clearly wrong here. Give them some space.”

Greth looked Telkas in the eye, and threw his arm off. “I have nothing to say to you. This could be a trick.”

Telkas looked at Greth. Then he said coldly, “Mine, or theirs?”

Greth said nothing.

Telkas looked down at the woman. She was curled up next to her companion, rags barely covering her legs. As Telkas peered closer at an odd coloring, he realized there were burns all over her; not red rashes from too much sun but ugly black patches of cracked flesh. “The Jordanus is a lot of things, but I don’t believe he could burn people alive. And he couldn’t get away with it. Where could something like that happen?” then, he thought about what he had just said. There were places, he realized.

Meanwhile, Greth sneered. “You didn’t know what happened before in your precious Silas. How do you expect to know what is going to happen now?”

Telkas shook himself from his thoughts and knelt to cover the woman with his leather coat. “Whether or not what you say is true, I’m still going to help these people. If you want, explain what happened to Fewald and see if he wants to send out scouts to check for danger. It’s never a bad idea.”

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Greth narrowed his eyes, opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it. He jerked

his head with contempt, and turned to walk into the compound. As he did, a female guard

walked past him with a skin of water. She was shorter than most of the hunters, slender

and with darker browns in her hair than most of them Telkas motioned for her to hurry,

but she moved only a little faster. He gave her a dirty look, grabbing the skin from her

hand.

Telkas knelt down next to the woman, who was shivering. “Are you cold?” he asked her. She didn’t respond, only continued to stare into the darkness beyond the walls.

He moved his hand to place it on her shoulder, paused, and then laid it firmly on her bony arm. It felt warm, and he saw no bumps or raised hair to indicate a chill. He offered her the water skin. “Here, please take this.”

She blinked.

Taking it from his outstretched hand, she pulled out the stopper, placing the tip on

her cracked lips. The water flowed, trickling slightly from the corners of her mouth. She

looked up at him, her tired eyes held a flicker of something, but what it was he couldn’t

decide.

“I just want to help you.” Telkas said, sitting down on the cool earth in front of

them as she finished drinking. She handed the skin to her companion, who was more

alert. “What happened?” he asked.

The woman turned form him, but the man answered his question. “There was

little food, or water, no wood left to burn, or to make passages. We began to wander, too

far, too dangerous.” His eyes began to fill with tears, but his face betrayed no other

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emotion. “Soon, people began disappearing. There was no reason at first. They just didn’t

come back…”

Silence.

Telkas tentatively placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Please, you have to

continue. What brought you here?” he shook him.

Haltingly, he continued his story. “There were burnt things. The dead, frozen in place, mouths, open, cooked like a skewer of scrit meat. They were blackened, like… like…” He pointed to the woman’s legs, where the burns were still visible. Telkas looked at them, and ripped a length of fabric from his tunic. He covered it in water, placed it over her leg. Telkas thought for a moment that the man stared at his white skin, and pulled the remainder of his clothing lower.

Out from the gates came a small force of hunters, wearing darkened breeches and tunics. They moved, heads low, weapons in hand, off into the dark night beyond. The ground was briefly a hustle of sinewy, bare footed limbs, only slightly disturbing the worn earth pathways in front of the stockade. Telkas raised his hand to get their attention, nearly spoke, but they were gone.

A voice behind him spoke.

“So these are the underworlders?” It was Fewald. He walked up behind Telkas,

and knelt at his side. “They don’t look very dangerous to me.”

Greth was behind him. “It would be foolish not to scout.”

Fewald did not respond.

Greth tried again. “I’m sure Loka would not object. We aren’t risking anything by looking around.”

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Fewald looked sidelong at him. “Except maybe the lives of those Jahe just sent

out.”

Greth said nothing, but remained standing.

“Telkas, we feel that it isn’t safe to bring them into Valdea as they are.

Telkas stood. “These people are sick, maybe dying. You can’t just leave them out here. Where are they going to get shelter?”

Fewald folded his arms. “Telkas, we’ve thought this through. If they are part of some plan to get inside the village, as badly as I feel for them, we can’t take the risk.”

Telkas turned his head, looking down at the two figures laying against the stockade. They looked small somehow, smaller than they should have. He couldn’t quite place if it was the darkness about them, or their faint shivering beneath their shreds of clothing, or a trick of his mind. “Fewald,” Telkas began, speaking deliberately and quietly. “Many Jahe, Greth included, say that the Silasean people are cruel, that they have murdered and killed for no reason. That we are evil. I think that these people are sick, and nothing else.”

Fewald stood, arms folded, staring straight back into Telkas’s eyes. After a few moments, he began to respond. “These people are your concern, if you want them. I will care for them as best I can, outside the wall, but we don’t know what their plans are.

Until we know that they are not spies, or sent to hurt us in our sleep, we will keep them

outside the gates.”

Telkas fumed. “I was outside the gates! You took me in. I am just like them,

aren’t I?”

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Fewald nodded. “But you were different. You proved yourself. We kept watch over you, but moreover, the Kaleah gives us the ability—.”

Telkas cut him off. “You can’t tell me that the Kaleah gives you some magical understanding of what a person’s intentions are. That’s just an excuse to leave these people outside.”

Fewald cleared his throat. “I was going to say, living the Kaleah gives us the ability to understand both compassion and common sense, through the experience of living. I have seen a sick man taken in who held a dagger before. You were different than any other we have seen.” Greth began to get visibly upset, clenching his fists behind

Fewald.

Telkas gritted his teeth. “You’re no better than what you have accused them of being.”

Greth stepped forwards, but Fewald put his hand up, and then uttered the final word. “I can’t say anything else to help you feel better, Telkas. I know they are your blood, but this is all we can do here.”

Silently, a dark form slipped up behind Greth, who turned with a start. It was

Jayka. She had been a member of the scouting party that had gone out. “There’s nothing close by. The only traces are the tracks of these two coming in. They must have climbed the cliffs in the dark.” She sounded surprised.

“Keep looking. If there’s anything out there, find it. Greth, would you help them?”

Telkas realized that, even though he was an adult now, Fewald still deferred to

Greth out of habit. The two of them set out, Jayka briefly looking back at him.

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“We will bring them water, and food. We should be able to set up a small tent for them out here.”

Telkas waved his hand, kneeling back at the woman’s side. “Don’t. I’m taking them to the stone buildings.”

Fewald raised his eyebrows for a moment, but then nodded. “A good plan, Telkas.

They should be your responsibility, anyway. You know how best to take care of them.”

The two of them could barely stand, but Telkas managed to help as they walked, dragging their feet, around the wooden paddock and through the dark forest. Telkas tried to keep an eye out for obstacles in their path, kicking away sticks in their way.

The man stayed him. “I can see just fine, you know.”

Telkas looked down and realized that they probably had an easier time of seeing in the dark than he did now. A strange feeling gripped him, but disappeared quickly. It was an uncomforting thing that he could not remember having before.

The man coughed. He had begun to grow a rough beard from days of uncleanliness, and his hood fell droopingly over his head, flapping with his footsteps.

There was no wind.

His voice was course as he tried to speak loudly enough to be heard without

Telkas turning his head as they walked in line. “I’m Rokus.” He raised his hand in the

Silasean manner, palm vertical. “I couldn’t tell you before, and it is hard to see, now that you have been burned so long. But you are Silasean. I see it now.”

Telkas hesitated.

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“It’s all right, they won’t find us here, I’m sure. You don’t know what it was like

to get away. Besides, I saw your skin. Not like the others. It’s like ours. Like Neeha’s.”

he gestured to the woman.

Telkas stopped and turned. Rokus had his hand around the woman. She was

breathing heavily, and his arm was around her shoulder. Beyond their heads, the walls of

Valdea were outlined against the glow of the fires within the walls. He thought of them

dancing in there, of the hunters in the forests around them, invisible.

“My name is Telkas.” He said, finally.

“You are the boy that was sent away, half a season ago. No, more than that. I

can’t believe it.”

“A lot has happened to me since then.” He parted the fronds of the last giant ferns

on the pathway and stepped out. They were cool to his touch, the air still cold in his nose.

There sat the domes, short and somehow sad, alone in the night. Telkas walked up to

them. “We can sleep here. He moved some of the sleds out of the small weathered tarp on

the side of the left hand dome, and pulled some other tarps off of other materials to make

bedding. “Put her down here.”

Together, the two of them assisted as she lay down onto the poor bedding. The

lean to would not hold up with a heavy rain, but under its veil, her eyes fluttered, and

drifted closed. She mumbled something, and Rokus leaned in to hear better.

“It feels heavy.”

The thin faced man looked at Telkas and shrugged. “What are you talking about?”

She mumbled drearily. “The rock… it feels heavy, like home, like the world beneath…”

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She dropped her eyes, and fell asleep, breathing softly.

Telkas began to make a fire with the flint he kept in his coat, after slipping it out of the pocket that she was still wearing. After some time, the two of them sat outside the tent, in the shadow of the dome, in the firelight.

Rokus shuddered beneath his tarp. “You did try to come back. Why?”

Telkas looked at him in surprise. “That’s not true. Who told you that?”

Rokus shook his head. “Well, we—it was just something people said. I guess I don’t know.” Telkas watched as a lock of silvery hair slipped out from behind the hood.

He tucked it back behind his ear. “It is easy for things to get out of control, stories I mean.”

Telkas agreed with a nod of the head. “You know who makes the stories.”

“You mean the Jordanus. I guess.” Another cough.

“I guess? The Jordanus has told me lies since I could remember. Even lied to everyone after I fell in the tunnel. He isn’t what you think.”

Rokus grabbed an old stick, and shoved it in the fire, twirling it about in the coals.

“Telkas, the Jordanus has warned us of perilous danger, and we owe him our lives. I only wish we had been able to realize it in time to help the rest. Whatever he is, he is our protector, our guide.”

Telkas kicked bits of dust into the blaze. “You should learn the facts before you trust anyone. Me, the Jordanus. Trust your eyes and ears only. The Jordanus threw me out because I had an idea. Nothing more. I would not trust him with the best interests of our people.”

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Rokus sighed deeply. He looked up at the night sky, the stars, and the moon. “I

never got to see this before.” The little fire reflected off his light eyes. “I always wanted to be out here. I thought it was something amazing, that we were being kept somewhere, kept alive. But many of the people, when the food shortages began to happen, asked the elders for permission to brave the dangers of the upper worlds for food.”

Telkas shrugged. “I’d done that for years. It isn’t new.”

“But Telkas, the Jordanus allowed some of us to go. He told all of us that our survival was most important. He let us go.”

Telkas widened his eyes in surprise.

Rokus continued. “At first it was handfuls of people. But soon, we went out in parties, of ten or twenty. Gathering what we could. And the Jordanus, and the hunters, warned us to come back before the high time, of the brightest light. Of course, as we had to walk so far, sometimes we came later. We only had a couple trips, and found nothing.

But the monsters, they came anyway. Came to burn us.”

Telkas stopped fidgeting with his stick. “What monsters?”

“There were flames. They burst from nowhere, following us. Huge, evil beasts. I never got close to one, but they were living flame, terrible. They burst up from the ground—.” Rokus cut off and began to weep silently.

Telkas put his hand on the man’s shoulder.

He dried his eyes. “Neeha, she was right next to one when it appeared. We think they are spirits, that hunger for flesh, to burn it out of you. The Jordanus warned us. I tried to save her, Telkas, but we got separated. I wasn’t going to go back there. No. I can’t believe I went back out a second time.”

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Telkas was amazed. “How long did you wander?”

Rokus thought, wiping his face. “I—I don’t really know. We went through a

horrible dry place, followed the large rocks to our left until the land fell away. We saw

the water down below there, and I carried her to one of the tiny rivers. That was days,

nights. I don’t even know. There were swirling storms of dust. I don’t know how we

escaped the demons. Maybe because of the rocks. They always came in the wide open

places.”

Telkas narrowed his glance. “Maybe you are right.”

Rokus slid down from his sitting position, laying down on the earth. “I have never seen trees like these. Never seen the world. It is harsh, Telkas. Bright, and unforgiving. I don’t know how you survived. I haven’t eaten since we had the last bit of our provisions days ago. We only had food for the day with us. It must have been a week.”

Telkas rummaged in the tent, pulling some dried meat from their supplies in a

crate. Inside, Neeha slept. He sat back at the fire, offering some to Rokus. Without saying

a word to one another, they ate.

###

Rokus slept for most of the day, but Telkas awoke early. It was more important

than ever to finish the dome, and to place the stone atop it. With the sun’s rising, Telkas

harnessed a Ze’dayo and made his way to the quarry, where the stone still lay. Using his

wooden shovel, he dug a shallow trough next to the stone and, with assistance from a

wooden pole, levered the stone onto its side, in the sled.

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As he made his way back to the sloped ramp, Telkas saw the birds circling again

overhead. He wished he had a bow and arrow, to shoot them. He had begun to hate those

carrion birds. They just picked at the wounded.

The larger bits of gravel at the base of the ramp, and leading up to the earthen

pile, proved to be more challenging. He had to lead the animal by its harness, helping as best he could to awkwardly pull the load along. At one point, the slag at his feet began to give way, and the sled dipped to one side. He thrust the pole into the earth behind him, trying to re-balance the sled on one leg.

“You need some help, Telkas?” Fewald appeared behind him, and pushed Telkas

back into place. The Ze’dayo moved along the track back onto solid packed stone.

Telkas continued working, pulling until the sled was at the base of the ramp. “I

need to get this completed now, more than ever. I could use your help if you want, but

it’s for these people. Remember that if you want to help me. I know you probably came

here to check on them.”

Fewald seemed sad. “Telkas, I didn’t want to do what I did last night. I know

these people need care. But I am responsible to my own people first.”

Telkas looked at him. He said, angrily, “Fewald you could have sent medicine, or

supplies here. Someone else to look after them. I have been laying wet strips of cloth on

her wounds all night.”

Fewald recoiled, taken aback. “I—assumed you were caring for them. You should

have asked for help.”

Telkas glared. “I should have, yes. But I was not sure if you were able to give it.”

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Fewald stumbled with his words a little. “Besides, we were preparing for the

journey all day and planning out what to do. I brought things for them with me now.” He

held out a cloth sack full of goods.

Telkas threw down the rope he held. “That’s not a good excuse. It doesn’t matter

now. But thank you for the goods.” Telkas took them and set them on the ground. “We

can care for them when they awake. I’ve fed them and cared for them out of our supplies

here so far.”

Fewald moved to walk alongside Telkas as he unhooked the animal and led it to

the front of the dome. “Telkas, I know it’s hard for you what happened last night. All of

this is difficult, when people come together after so long apart. We used to be the same,

us and the underworlders. Before the Sundering, we all lived here.”

Telkas continued working, attaching the long ropes from the sled back onto the harness. “I think that’s probably true. But we are different now, and if we ever want to live together, something is going to have to change. This hatred is understandable, but what does it get us?”

Fewald tied a rope alongside the animal. “It is simply there. People have different experiences in the Kaleah. In life. It doesn’t matter, because we are not Jahe, or Silasean, or any other people. We may grow up in these cultures, Telkas, but what we each see is what makes us who we are. You are not a Silasean, entirely. Greth spent much time in the wild, saw a lot of death. He isn’t Jahe, entirely. He has seen cruel things that form his opinions.”

Telkas patted the Ze’dayo. “It doesn’t excuse repeating that cruelty.”

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Fewald chose not to reply. Together, the two of them walked up to where the sled

lay just at the base of the ramp.

Telkas gripped one side of the ramp. “Now we should have another person, but I

am just going to try with us.”

Fewald looked at him in surprise.

Telkas continued. “We’re going to steady this until it reaches the top of the dome.

When the Ze’dayo gets it to the edge, it will stop and upend, and the stone should slide out, its point should settle into the space for it at the top. Are you ready?”

Fewald nodded that he was.

Telkas whistled; the animal pulled, used to the drill by now. On either side, they

pushed the cart up the long incline. Slowly, they got higher, seeing further into the

morning light. Through the trees, as they neared the top of the ramp, Telkas could see the

walls of Valdea, distant. At the pinnacle, the cart jolted violently, the Ze’dayo whined,

but continued to pull. Telkas watched the heavier top of the stone, and as it slid off the

cart, it began to roll the wrong way. Fewald saw it, and with Telkas they pushed it at the last second. It twisted, but by then was already in place. It slid into the gap, rolling about the edge before settling into its six-

sided hole. Telkas stamped on it; the capstone settled.

Soon they both stood at the front of the dome. Telkas looked at the barrier that

held the sand inside. There was only to lift it out, and see if his construction would truly

hold itself. Fewald walked up to it.

“You’ve waited for this a long time, Telkas. Are you sure you want to rush it?

There’s nothing you want to check first?”

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Telkas shook his head. “I didn’t have a reason before to do this, except myself.

It’s not a very good way to get yourself working hard. If it doesn’t hold up, then we will

need to start building somewhere else for these people to live. They can’t live next to the

unfinished dome forever. If this one falls, I’ll find out why and finish the other one

properly.”

Fewald nodded his head slightly, for just a moment. “You’re thinking differently.

That’s good, good to have change. And I would like to see this thing.” Fewald smiled.

Telkas looked over at the other dome. Amazingly, both of them were still, as far as he could tell, asleep. Telkas couldn’t help but feel excited about the dome. He looked

back at Fewald. For nearly an entire season, he had worked on this project.

Telkas slid the wooden barricade up.

Fine sand rushed out, covering his feet. He moved back quickly. From above, the sound of heavy stones grinding and settling rumbled as the sand flowed faster. They had constructed a hollow space to catch it, but he didn’t account for the fact that it would pile up so quickly. He began to shovel with his hands until he realized that it wouldn’t stop flowing.

Telkas ran back, awkwardly with his brace, looking at the top for any sign of collapse. The rocks stayed in their position, didn’t warp or bend. After several minutes, the sand stopped.

Within the structure, there was still a large pile of sand, several feet deep, which would have to be shoveled out. The dirt ramp would have to be removed, and there were no windows in the openings. But, as Telkas looked up at the tight joints of stone inside, at

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the mortar made of hardened mud that sealed it and made their sounds echo, and at the

crown-stone sitting at the top, he felt his chest swell.

Fewald stepped tentatively in the entry. “It seems to have worked, Telkas.” he

patted the stonework. After looking at it for some time, Telkas decided that it indeed was

stable. They walked on the roof, kicked the base, and sat on the window arches, and

everything worked.

“Telkas I’ve never seen anything like this. It feels like I’m underground.”

Telkas smiled. “Then it will be perfect for them. I’ve got to take some time to get this ready for them, remove the sand—.”

Fewald quieted him with a raised hand. “You can’t.”

Telkas felt an angry rise. “What are you talking about?

Fewald’s eyes were serious, his voice firm. “We have to go to Loka. I tried to tell you before, but I see that this is important to do, so it came first.”

“Why?”

“Telkas, Loka has determined that we are to call a meeting. One of the hunters

found another Silasean not long before I came here. He was dying, but before he did, he

told us of the grim situation there in the Undeworld. Loka wants to hear what these two

have said, and what you think.”

Telkas was bewildered. “What I think?”

“Who better to help us than a Silasean? And, if they have the same story as this

other, then Loka has decided there will be an expedition to Silas.”

Telkas dropped his mouth open, slightly. “An expe—for what?”

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Fewald turned and started back. “To help the Silaseans. We are to bring them

food, clothes, and other things on sleds. To offer protection. To offer our help, Telkas. No

person, however violent, deserves what this man told us happened. And, unlike Greth, I

know all Silaseans are not violent. What you’ve done here today proves that, if nothing

else.”

Telkas leaned on the walls of his new building, and watched Fewald leave.

“We will wait for you, Telkas. Come as soon as you are ready.” He disappeared into the ferns.

Telkas rapped his knuckles against the stone. There was no way that all of the

Jahe going on that trip would be willing to help the Silaseans. And, no telling what the

Jordanus would do. At the most, all they would be able to do is leave the food at the entrance. And there was no way he was going with them. Telkas rubbed his stubble, and retrieved the satchel of supplies. It was time to awaken the Silaseans.

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CHAPTER XI

THE PRIEST

“Dreams are a route to find ourselves. It is how we see within, to find the true path through the Gods.”

Telkas looked down at the inert form of Rokus. His eyes were closed, hood drawn a bit over his head. But he was obviously awake, or talking in his sleep. Telkas knelt, gently prodding the man’s shoulder. “Are you dreaming? Or do you pray?”

The eyes opened, a slight smile dawned. “Telkas. I’m happy this morning. I chant.” He sat up, and grimaced, placing a hand at his back. “Although—sore isn’t the word for this—pain.”

Telkas smiled. “Well let’s look at what we have in the pack.” There were a multitude of salves, bandages, and other things to help. As he went through the package,

Telkas felt a tinge of regret for how he had been treating some of the others, Fewald in particular. He pulled out a small earthen pot with skin tied over the opening. Within it was a small green gel.

“What is that potion?” Rokus asked.

“It aids in healing, my friend. I was burned by the sun many times before I got used to it. It comes from a small spiked plant, which you squeeze. It feels very cool.

Here.” Telkas applied it to the man’s forehead. Instantly, Rokus’s facial muscles relaxed.

“That is much better. What an amazing potion this is. What is it called?” 154

Telkas tried, but could not remember the name. Instead he asked, “Your prayers are to the Gods? Do you know the prayers well?”

“I was a spiritual guide, for a time.”

Telkas frowned. “The duty of a priest is for life. Or were you only in training?”

Rokus reached for some dried meats out of the crate. “I was in the spiritual brotherhood. Charged with the histories, the sacred paths within. But I have for a long while been at odds with the rest of the guides.” He fell silent.

Telkas rubbed his stubble. Something about this man awakened his curiosity. It wasn’t often that he could remember something happening like this in the religious sect.

It was the most dogmatic area of the Silasean culture, blindly obedient to The Jordanus.

Telkas opened his mouth, and shut it.

Rokus kept looking at the earth, but chuckled softly.

Telkas looked mildly surprised, asking “What is the joke about?”

Rokus raised his head. There was a twinkle in his eye. “Telkas you are a very curious man. It’s wonderful, and something I am sadly unused to, in a way. Our people are curious often to find what is different so that they can distance themselves from it.

You are, thankfully, the opposite.”

Telkas lowered his head, smirking, nodding. “So, what is your story, Rokus?”

“I was a student of the Vash’jir.”

Telkas turned his head, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of this, before. Many things were forgotten, absorbed, carried away.”

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Telkas sat more comfortably, crossing his good leg over the brace, leaning back

on his hands. “I vaguely remember the word. Not sure of its meaning.”

“It’s the old religious order. Before it was a tool of the elders. It’s been folded into

the priesthood now. I was as well.”

“What did you do before that? And why did you have a problem with all of them?”

Rokus continued. “I was to be taught the histories of the people. But before I had begun to learn, the Vash’jir priests left Silas.”

Telkas was more than interested. “Where were they taken?

“No one ever found out. And of course we were not encouraged to discuss such things. After that I was trained like the priests are now—to stand and praise the will of the Gods as the same as the Jordanus and his council.

“What happened after that?”

“I learned to do as I was told. Whether you believe it or not, you must act and speak as though you are one with the Jordanus. And I believe that he has our best interests at heart.”

Telkas said nothing. Perhaps, he thought, Rokus was right. He wouldn’t be out here if he hadn’t been so argumentative. But then, Rokus ended up here, too. Maybe it was just what happened to people who disagreed with the Jordanus. People who thought for themselves.

He sat a while, watched Rokus taking in the air and looking out into the rising sun. A bird landed some distance in front of them, perched on a rock. It stretched, and

Telkas saw that it was blue, but it shifted, changing colors like certain flies do. It bore a

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tiny plume atop its head. They saw it stretch its shining wings, warming itself in the morning sunlight.

“I can’t recall seeing such things, Telkas. This light is bright, and I feel it digging into my skin. But there is something about it that makes me want to stay out here.” He drew his hood further over his face, pulled his ragged sleeves longer over his hands, tugging at them with thumb and finger within the sleeve.

“You don’t have to stay out here if you don’t want to. Telkas moved over to the stone dome. Pulling the skin aside, he peered within to find a cool space. The windows at the side were still covered with wood, but portions on the east side let in just enough sunlight to send shallow beams into the interior, illuminating it with a softer light. There were still decent amounts of sand inside, not to mention piled about the entrance. “Then again, this is going to take some work.”

Rokus nodded. “Not as much I think as you imagine. It feels strangely like a cave inside, Telkas. It’s like being back in Silas, in a way. Not that I would want to go back.”

Telkas turned to face him. “We may have to return whether or not you want to.”

Rokus raised an eyebrow. “Something you haven’t told me about?”

“Fewald, the elder’s son in the village, has called a meeting. We are to be present.

The people want to hear about the dangers in Silas, so that they can prepare for the journey there, I assume.”

“Journey there?”

“They are going to send food and aid to Silas. Fewald just told me before you were awake.”

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“Gods.” Rokus looked to the earth. He looked more pale than usual. “I—I don’t want to go back…” then he glanced back at Neeha.

Telkas kicked at the sand and pebbles littering the ground. “These people have given a lot to me. To us. We have protection, and a place to stay.” He gestured to the crates around. “Food, supplies. If I can, I will prevent them from taking you back. But they don’t have to do this.”

“You mean send food to Silas. I’m not sure why they would want to help us,

Telkas. They kill Silaseans for sport.”

Telkas shrugged. “There are many things I’m unsure of. Some of these people I wouldn’t doubt to hunt Silaseans. Not for sport, but for vengeance. Others, I know would never do so.”

Rokus was withdrawn for some minutes. He placed his hands on his knees, hugging them to his chest.

Telkas looked to the forest. Through it, he knew that in Loka’s lodge, a circle of important Jahe probably sat, awaiting their presence. “I will go. I will tell them your story, and explain to them the monsters. I know enough about our home to give them what they need.” Telkas rose, but Rokus raised his hand.

“No, I will come. I can at least show my face. Let me tell Neeha.” Rokus raised himself, somewhat painfully, leaning on the stone, and made his way to the side where she slept. After a moment, he motioned that he was ready to go. Telkas offered the man his arm, and together, they set out for Valdea.

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In the lodge there were indeed many different men, many of them old, wearing

more ornate or finely made garments. They wore their beards full, but short, and gray hair

adorned their faces more often than dark. They sat, legs out, or one knee up and hands

placed upon it, ten of them, in the fashion of the Jahe. Fewald and Loka sat at the back of

the room, near the fire.

All eyes were upon them as the two of them entered. Loka smiled and bade them sit near the fire with a hand gesture. “Welcome, Telkas. And your companion as well.”

Telkas helped Rokus to sit on the floor. Loka cleared his throat. “Now, as we are met here, all together, most of you know the nature of the errand before us. For those of you who do not agree, may I remind you of the sanctity of all life. If another is in pain, you must do your best to ease that pain.”

Telkas did not notice it before, but to the right, near a pillar, a figure crossed its arms. It was Greth.

“We have had word of the troubles there. Rokus, is it? Can you tell us of the troubles your people face?” Loka, and the others, looked upon his hooded figure in anticipation.

Rokus drew back his hood. In the low fire, his features appeared sharper, more gaunt. “I thank you for the aid you are sending.” His eyes shone, reflecting the light. “I know that there has been blood between our two peoples, and hope that it may stop now.

For there will be plenty of it shed without our fighting one another.”

The Jahe listened while Rokus relayed his story. It had begun several moons prior, when the fish in the lower caverns had disappeared. The people, for a long time

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hungry, had begun to starve. The old had died, and some of the youth. There was unrest,

and Rokus told of the groups who went out to aid the few surviving hunters to find food.

“We had little success, but the people had begun to come together, to pull and try to step beyond the borders as one. But the warnings of the Jordanus went unheeded. And it was our doom. There was an expedition, larger than the others. Well equipped. We were to make for the sea, to find the fishes that grew there. There was hope that some were to be caught, to replenish our supplies in the caves. But we ventured too far, into the burning plains. And there, the legends took a truer form.”

Rokus took a moment and a breath. Telkas looked and saw Greth. A scowl crossed his face, and something evil stirred in Telkas’s thought.

Rokus put his hands on his knees. “Th-there was a great, demon that erupted from the earth. A close friend of mine walked in the front of our group. He was consumed by the monster’s flame. As soon as it appeared, an inferno before us, he was gone. I heard his piercing screams. Many of us were killed, on the retreat to safety. I was separated, along with the woman. I found a forest, rooted in water. But there were other monsters, of cloud and liquid, there. We wandered across burning sands and other places, for days, with little food and water, until we found this place. I can only hope that a way to combat them can be found. If this group is still willing to come to our aid, I can assure you that we will be forever grateful.” Rokus sat, again.

There was murmuring for a moment, but then Greth stepped forward.

“I do not fear these demons. But I wonder, chief, if it is wise to send goods to people who would kill us if they had the chance, who hate us. To brave a journey that is

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far past the caves of artifacts, unsure if these people will even welcome our aid?” There was whispered agreement, hushed comments.

Fewald looked at Loka, and rose to speak. “I hear Greth’s words, and there is reason to be cautious. I feel that it is necessary to go. Without our help, these people may be wiped out. I have not seen a demon like Rokus has described before. But fire cannot defeat water. We should look to our best minds to think of a way to protect ourselves.

Also, we should come to Silas by the mountains, past the ruins. Perhaps it is best to avoid the burning plains he spoke of.”

Loka nodded. “My son speaks well, as does Greth. I also think that we must send a guide.” At this, Rokus shivered. “We will not stand by and let these people be killed, but we do not know their ways.”

Greth moved closer to the fire, fist raised angrily. “I won’t stand by and let us be killed for these… people!”

Loka sat, looking calmly on Greth. “Greth, there is reason for caution. Maybe even extreme caution. However, there are reasons in our past, and I think in the present as well, why we must come to their aid. I will not speak of them now. But you have no need to worry, as we have a guide, and many strong Jahe going with you.”

Greth withdrew, but Telkas saw the anger on his face, and the palpable tension around him.

Telkas rose. “It is wonderful to have your help. But I must protest against Rokus returning to Silas. He is weak, and does not feel able to face the demons again.”

Loka nodded. “I also agree. That is why you will come with the expedition, young one.”

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Telkas froze, eyes widened. “B-but I was sent away. I cannot return to Silas!”

Loka looked at him, un-blinking. Telkas glanced around the room. All eyes were on him. The realization dawned on him that there would be no other. Still he was defiant.

“I cannot go.” Images of Jestea flashed through his mind, of the Jordanus.

Fewald reached down and retrieved something form the ground. It was Telkas’s staff. “You would not need to reveal yourself. You look much different now than you did before, and you can be cloaked, disguised.” Loka looked at his son, and nodded.

“They can’t know that it is me. I can’t be seen. Perhaps I could wait in the mountains, close to Silas…”

Greth sneered. “In the place we could be in trouble the most? In the grip of your kinsman? I would rather you be at as much risk as the rest of us.”

Loka held a hand to quiet him. “Telkas, we have need of your help if we are to help your kin. There is no other way. I will not send my own people blindly into that abyss. There is no choice in this matter, after we have taken you in as we have.”

Silence. Gain, the eyes on him. Telkas looked down at Rokus. His eyes were dim, face grim. Then he drew his cloak over his eyes. Telkas felt a twist in his chest. He looked for a long moment into the fire, at Loka’s face through the flame. Then his fists clenched.

“I will go.”

Loka smiled, and gestured to a younger man to his left. “Jorun, gather your people and see to it. Greth, help him if you can. We all must prepare.” The group began to dissolve, several Jahe bowing to Loka and lining up for a word with him, or Fewald.

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As Greth walked past Telkas, he gripped his arm roughly, speaking in a gruff whisper. “Watch that you don’t try to make trouble. I will be watching your every move, and if we are betrayed, the first strike will be my arrow into your heart.” He let go, and slipped out of the doorway.

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CHAPTER XII

THE RETURN

The Jahe had large wagons, just taller than a man, with two huge solid wooden wheels that they used to move goods back and forth. These they harnessed to teams of the

Ze’Dayo. Filling them with crates of dried foods, medical supplies, and clothing, they prepared to make the journey to Silas. Fewald was pointing over to the west.

“Get some bandages. If there are more people who have been burned, we’ll need them.” A young hunter ran off to gather them. Telkas was leaning against the doorway of his house, Rokus inside, warming himself by the fire, although to Telkas it was not really cold.

“Telkas, will you be alright?”

He pulled back inside, dropping the cloth doorway behind him. “I suppose I’ll have to be. I understand how they would need a guide, but again, they could just drop it off near the city and leave.”

Rokus shook his head “You know the Jordanus would not trust it. And, I would have said before meeting these people, rightfully so. It must be brought into the city and contact would have to be made for trust to be given.”

Telkas began to gather items, placing them into a small leather bag. His staff, he gave again to Rokus. “You have to take care of Neeha. There were others… in your group. Keep an eye out for them. I’ll return with news.” 164

Rokus embraced him in the Silasean fashion, and Telkas was surprised. It had

been many years since he had that happen to him. “Go, Telkas. My thoughts go with

you.”

Telkas bade his friend goodbye and stepped out of the tent. As he looked up, he

nearly ran into one of the hunters. “I’m sorr—.” It was Jayka.

“What kind of people are you? Are women so difficult to have respect for?”

Telkas was bewildered. “Jayka? What in the world is the matter?”

She pushed him, nearly knocking him into the building. “Your Silaseans. Fewald has said that no women will go on the journey, because they don’t look at them as equals.” Her head lowered slightly.

Telkas put out his hands toward her. “Jayka, they are… backward… in some ways. Know that I have always had great respect for you.”

At this, she looked up at him. “There is a dangerous time ahead for us, I think.

Monsters of flame, hostile people, and the journey itself. I do think it is noble to try and help these starving people, but at what cost? If we start to sacrifice our own way of living, and do not allow women into trusted places as those underworlders do, we are as lost as they.”

Telkas put his hand on her shoulder. Jayka, I am an underworlder, too. So is

Rokus, and he does not share this problem with women. He has a very hurt woman that he must care for. He respects her very much.”

Telkas realized as he was saying those words that it was possible that Rokus didn’t respect Neeha in the same way that Jayka wished. But he still cared very much about her. That was a paradox of morals, to be sure, he thought.

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Jayka did not seem convinced. “I am to patrol the lands between here and the

waterfall, with those left behind, mostly women.”

Telkas had an idea. “Jayka, do you think that you could look after the Silaseans

for me, in the domes?”

She looked at him, squinting one eye. “What are you trying to do, Telkas?”

He waved his hand in a negatory, shaking his head. “No, no, but I have been

thinking that there will be no one to keep them safe. You are the only one I trust to do

so.”

“You mean the only one left.”

“Fewald cannot take time to watch over them, at least not enough. Who else is

there that I trust?”

“Greth would not let any harm come to them. He is not evil.”

Telkas thought back to Greth’s words in the hall, shortly before. “No, he isn’t. but

I want you to do it, even if he was staying.”

She pushed his shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance. He was pleased. He knew this was how Jayka played.

“All right, Telkas. But I am not just someone who you can appease. I’ll do it because we have grown together, you and I. You have my respect as well.” She smiled. I am still angry over this, idiotic plan, but if it will help you, I would be happy to watch over your people while you are away.

Telkas bowed.

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Fewald approached them, keeping a safe distance between Jayka and himself.

“Telkas, We are nearly ready. Can you walk or do you need to ride?” Jayka folded her arms, and had every appearance of a bristled hawk, save without feathers.

“I made it here before on foot. I’ll return the same way.”

“Good.” Fewald nodded in approval. “Come to the gate as soon as you are ready.”

Once again, he made a point of trying to move with a safe distance between him and

Jayka.

Soon there was a line of 12 wagons being pulled by many mounts. Fewald and

Greth had decided that about forty hunters would accompany the wagon drivers. And, there was Telkas.

They started off in mid morning. The wagons were slow, and it was not until afternoon that they reached the falls. The trees had grown thinner, and as they stepped over the myriad rivulets of clear water that wound through that land, its mingled roar grew louder. As Telkas walked alongside the single line of wagons, he remembered how lost he had felt. Somewhere in the forest there was the great line, which he had used to get here.

Out from under the shade of the trees, he felt the cool mist hitting him. As he had flown along the pulley and line system, sitting in his harness, he had only been able to marvel at its immense size. Now, he could see it from the ground level. It stretched for ages, spouting and cascading randomly for a distance of perhaps two miles, all the way to the cliffs beyond. A large pool formed below, breaking up into smaller rivers and

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tributaries, punctuated by islands of thick conifers and mist. The air was cool as he drew

it into his lungs.

As they continued on, Telkas realized they were going towards the waterfall,

along a raised area of soil and rock. It appeared worn. They drove the wagons right up to

the water itself, thundering down around them. For a moment Telkas wondered where

they were going, until he realized that he could see light through the thin sheet of water

slamming into the rock. The first wagon disappeared under a cloud of mist and water.

Telkas looked high above and could now make out that there was a large divide in

the waterfall. The falls were so high that from the top, the water spilled down, from a

distance concealing the entrance. But it was a sloped ramp in the wall, dividing the falls

in half, travelling upwards. He wanted badly to ask about the nature of the pathway, but

the falls were deafening as he approached. He drew his hood over his head, but as he

passed under the cold water, he felt hit by blows almost at the heaviness of the pounding

water.

As it passed, he looked upwards again, noticing the smooth walls, oddly smooth,

travelling all the way up the graded slope, which ended at a large opening above. All

along the sides, water dripped and pooled in the damp rock, and small green things grew

in the corners. The entire place vibrated slightly, as if the power of the great river lived in

the very stone.

Telkas tapped the arm of the hunter in front of him. He had to yell. “Where is this place from? Who made it?” The man turned. His hair was wet, curly. Skin, dark. He raised his voice to be heard. “No one knows who made this place. It is too new to be the ancients, but still old. Who now could make such a place.”

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Reaching the top, Telkas saw a vast expanse of sun drenched river. There were

more distant mountains, to the west, capped with white. The wide river lands flowed

down form them and the green forests at their base. It was always difficult for Telkas to

see so far, even now, but he could make out the lands to the south as well. They were

higher than the pulley line, now just a vague blur lower than they were, on the

perpendicular cliff that ran parallel to the lower river. Beyond, past that pulley, and the

cliff it sat upon, many days away, was Silas.

But this did not make sense at all. It would be impossible to cross the river and

move over to the raised lands beyond form here. The river was not deep where they had

emerged. The narrow canyon cut for perhaps a half a mile into the river before it emerged

on the top, above the falls. But around them, the only direction they could go was

straight, a broken and curving path that led into the river lands, with small bridges and

fords crossing the deeper parts. Telkas watched it as it disappeared into the mountains.

He moved up towards the head of the column, to find Fewald and Greth. Telkas

bowed his head quickly to Fewald. “This doesn’t seem to be the way to arrive in Silas.

There is no entrance from this side of the mountains.”

Fewald looked perplexed. “There is indeed an entrance here, Telkas. Greth has

seen it. It is a place that your people have used for many years. You have not seen this?”

Telkas said nothing, only shaking his head. There were other entrances in Silas, but most had been blocked off—but then he caught himself. That information was given to him by the Jordanus, shortly before his exile. Who knew what the truth was.

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Fewald continued. “At any rate, Telkas, I would have thought you had understood that we aren’t following your pathway to Silas. You’re here to help us with your kinfolk, and their customs, not to show us the way. You were delirious when you came to us.”

Telkas realized what Fewald was saying was right. “Then how are we to come to

Silas? This entrance, you say, is in the mountains?”

Fewald nodded. “I’m not sure how you don’t know of it. It’s been used for war in the past.”

Telkas had no idea what to say in response. What wars were there? Something didn’t make sense. Either the Jahe were being lied to, or he had been. Telkas had no doubt that the Jordanus could lie about such a thing, but how would it be possible to keep it a secret?

The column wound through the wide expanse of river for most of the afternoon.

The sun lit the crystalline waters like a gem, showing the greens and blues of the river plants covering ancient stones. The wagons wheels cut through the shallow fords and over rocky abutments, following the roadway left from some unspoken time. There were scouts up ahead to look for signs of danger, but the floodplain opened far ahead and sight was far. Telkas looked into the distance, where the mountains began to grow. It was at times like these where he realized it was difficult for him to judge distance.

“Fewald, do you think we will reach the mountains soon?”

Fewald motioned towards the end of the floodplain. “There is an ending to the watery area soon, but it will be only a small amount of daylight left when we reach the

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beginning of your mountains. We will have to make camp there, under cover if any can be found. Silas lies three days from there.”

Telkas squinted into the distance, but before he could make out the end of the

river, it turned into a blue green blur. It must be because of his underground eyes. He

clicked the brace of his leg, which had been acting up, occasionally locking up. He would

have to take out some of his tools and work on it that night.

It took most of the remaining daylight to reach the end of the water. Gradually, the mossy rocks gave way to a sweeping land of larger flat rocks covered in a strange plant with round dark leaves, the size of his finger. The rocks were interspersed with small trickling rivulets of water, but the wagons could roll over top of these tiny valleys, and so they went. It was just getting dark when the mountains were high enough to loom, taking up much of the sky.

They reached an area where large trees, and some large rocks provided some screening. Telkas looked at the rocks, and noticed they were different than those of the river. It almost appeared as though they had broken off the mountain and rolled to this spot. Some of them were four or five times his height, and he imagined what it would have been like to have seen them fall.

The wagons were arranged in a circle, and the Jahe took their posts in the breaks between, and up on top of them. No fires were lit, and the cool stars began to ignite as the sun sank behind the mountains of Silas. Telkas went to remove his pack from the wagon, but his brace caught at the joint, and locked. He pitched forward onto his hands, scraping them badly.

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He rolled over, rubbing his palms with his thumbs.

“You not hurt too bad, are you?” he saw a hand offered, and after a slight

hesitation, he took it. He looked up into the man’s face. He was more thickset, but with a light somewhere inside that emanated, adding to his smile. It was Jorun, the man from

Loka’s lodge. Telkas was confused for a split second, but then realized that the man was waiting for an answer.

“Yes, I—I’m alright. The brace is damaged, from an accident before. I should try to fix it. You are close to Loka?”

The man seemed abashed, and Telkas realized he had given him quite a

complement. “Well, no. I just help with moving goods around. Foodstuffs, to the

outposts. You’re the builder. I always thought you’d be bigger.” Then after a pause, “Oh,

no offense meant, of course, only that’s what I thought before.”

“I’m a Silasean. No offense taken. We tend to be a bit smaller I think.” Telkas let

himself smile. There was something about this man, strong but clumsy in speech, which

made him feel friendly.

“What might you need to fix that thing?”

Telkas had thought about this before. One of the stabilizing pieces on his lower

leg was warped, slightly smashed, and would need to be replaced in order to keep the

gears and structure taught, and working properly. “I would need a length of wood to

replace this part.” He gestured to it on his leg. That was why he hadn’t replaced it. It took

a long time to carve them out so that they were long and straight, and strong enough.

Jorun brightened. “You know, Telkas, that looks about the length of an arrow

shaft, doesn’t it?”

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Telkas nodded. It certainly did.

“That’s one thing we have plenty of. I’ll grab one.”

Telkas wondered why he hadn’t thought of that before. The wood pieces that he had carved were of a larger diameter than the arrow shafts, but the Jahe made very good arrows, and he had no doubt as to their strength.

Rummaging around for a moment in one of the wagons, Jorun returned with a couple of their arrows. They were red and black, painted at the shaft with plant ochre.

“We can use these, but not the blue ones.”

“Why is that, Jorun?”

Jorun paused, as if he was debating something. “Because… those are a poison, from the river fish. It wouldn’t do to cut yourself with those.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“It will kill you in minutes.”

As Jorun removed the notched arrowhead and sinew, the fletching at the other end, Telkas wondered why such dangerous weapons were on their trip. On the one hand, there was room for caution, and their own lives needed to be protected. But a dart that killed with a poison? Telkas clutched his hand in anger. More than likely only innocents would be hurt. Perhaps this whole journey was a huge mistake.

“Telkas?” Jorun had been trying to get his attention. “The shaft is ready”

Shaking the feeling away, Telkas sat on a warm stone and began to pull apart his brace, bending the wood enough to slip out the offending piece. In the end, the piece snapped. Grumbling, he took the new piece and checked. It would need a small bit cut off the end, and it was a bit to skinny, but it should do the job.

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“Jorun, thank you for your help. I don’t know how I would have done this without

your suggestion. Would you mind cutting it here?” he marked in the paint with his

fingernail.

“I’d be happy to.” Jorun went to retrieve a cutting stone, and Telkas opened his

pack. He looked around for a moment, then produced his cap, made in Silas. There were

the lenses made from the shards of the ancient diagram he had found. He began to cut

leather strap from one side of it, then thought better. Instead, he took a section out of the

top of the pack, and cut it into small strips. He looked at the goggles for a long moment,

thinking. Jestea would be there. He wondered, if they were allowed into Silas, if they

were allowed to even reach it, if she was there, if he saw her… too many if’s.

“Will this do?” Jorun had returned. Telkas loosened the brace’s fittings more, and

wound the leather bits around the ends of the arrow shaft. He slipped it into place, and

tightened it again, straightened his leg.

Click.

“Thank you, Jorun. It seems to be working.” He moved it up and down, through its range.

No problems.

From the other side of the compound, a low, harmonic tone emanated, pulsing in

their ears. Jorun perked up, and moved towards it, motioning for Telkas to come along.

The eyes of many guards were turned inwards towards a small circle of men. At one side

of this sat Fewald, in his blue shirt, and an older man. He had feathers affixed to his

leather jerkin, and his hair was long and beginning to gray. A few Jahe had fixed their

bows with the gourds Telkas had seen before, and with sticks they plucked the strings of

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their bows, making a melodic sound. The old man was reciting words, in a slow,

deliberate tone.

Telkas was transfixed. “What is this, Jorun?”

“It is a reciting. We go into an unsure day tomorrow, and we need to remember the brave deeds of the ancients to be strong.”

Telkas thought to himself. These were the legends of the ancient time, before the world was torn asunder, and the mountains raised. He had never before gotten to hear them, except in hushed tones and whispers. The Jordanus only allowed the priests to tell of the great disaster itself.

The old man was a fitter, crafting weapons and arrows, it seemed. He had grease and oil across his leather hauberk, and some small tools hung about his waist. A woven basked at his back carries arrow shafts, fletching, and tips, and as he recited the canto, he made arrows.

“The peoples of the world grew afraid and distrusting of one another. In the land of Unh great battles were fought. Where once the waters of life flowed now there were only streams of blood, and the dead piled high. It was into this time that the one known as

Truthbearer came walking into the world. Most of the chiefs who goaded their people to battle did so by claiming that spirits commanded them, but the Truthbearer challenged their words.

“Some have said he was descended from Uhn the eldest, and laid hidden, holding the secret of the past with his line. Whatever the case, he came now, spreading peace and speaking of a great light that was to come soon, a kingdom that would set right the

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troubles of the world. Many flocked to his banner, and there were some who called for

peace. But many would not listen to his message.

“A great leader of the western nations, Pontak, sought out the Truthbearer and killed him. His followers were heartbroken, but all was not lost.” The Jahe raised their hands together, sighed in unison. It was as if all of them knew this story, by heart.

The old man continued his story. “However, the Truthbearer’s work had a longer

life than its master. His lessons, teaching that there was love in knowledge and life and

peace in crafting beautiful things, worked upon the people. Soon, the very rulers that slew

him took up his code, forsaking weapons in favor of learning.

The man finished an arrow, placed it neatly in a stack to his right. Jorun closed his

eyes, held his hands out, palms up, breathing deeply, appearing to absorb something from

the story itself.

“While the tribes of the south and east continued in their fight, the western

peoples built a great fortress, Osandoma, and at its center they built a great hall of

learning. Around this fortress they secured their defense from the fighting in other lands

and began to pour their energy into works of light and learning. Soon their city held a

brilliance that has never since been seen in the world. At this, the Jahe stomped, and fists

were thrown into the air, and then dropped.

Their walls were unbreakable and of greater height and girth than any, mighty and

made of dark stone. In their halls of knowledge they had huge machines, new innovations

by the hour. They wrote the first poetry, and song, and harnessed the power of wind with

great sails to light their streets and lighten their loads, ideas now lost to us. They explored

the seas with great ships and climbed mountains.

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“It was not long before the other peoples of the world were enamored by the silence of the western lands. Rumor and slight knowledge had begun to leak from their mighty walls, and soon works of architecture and metallurgy had been sampled in the wide world. The greed and jealousy of south and east was awakened, and they poured united against the walls of Osandoma with united fury.”

At this, some Jahe, mostly the younger men, began to imitate the evil men in the story, making clawed hand motions, and trying to choke in jest their friends, who made mock faces of terror.

“The hosts of the western kingdoms issued forth in defense, and their weapons shore through the crude machinations of their enemies. No attacker could molest them from outside.

Yet the downfall of the kingdom was swift. In the halls of wisdom there were guilds of metalworkers, mechanizers, and scholars. They argued about the precise nature of the

Truthbearer, and who was more sovereign. They divided their kingdom into three parts.

The Metalworkers took Osandoma as their own, and the momentum was lost in that ancient land.”

The old man fell silent. Even then, in hushed tones, the Jahe Whooped, quietly. In the starlight Telkas could see that even Greth, standing by one of the wagons, had a slight smile on his face, somehow put at ease by the words.

Jorun, happy, turned to go. The Jahe broke up, milling around, returning to posts.

The story was over. Telkas moved as fast as he could to catch up with Jorun. “That’s all?

There is no explanation?”

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Jorun looked perplexed. “The story is well known, Telkas. It needs no more. It is

what can happen if we let fear divide us. It is only a reminder. You understand?”

Telkas agreed. From another wagon, they heard Fewald calling for sleep, and the

night watchmen to take their posts.

###

The road was a winding mess. It was little more than a flat area, that looked to have once been maintained. The Ze’Dayo worked hard, their striped hides dripping with sweat. During the areas where the roadway climed quickly, it was slow going. They

needed rests frequently, which enabled Telkas ample opportunity to turn his eyes to the

valleys below.

Over the last few days, as they had gone further into the mountains, a curtain of

green and red unveiled itself to him. Sparse whisps of cloud and moisture only partially

obstructed the low, deep greens of the trees, like greens in massive bowls, filled to the

brim with emerald leaves. The valleys dotted the areas in between the red mountains,

starting at their bases a deep ochre, and travelling upwards from the deep greens of the

valleys, they were covered less and less with the distant moss of pines, eventually

capping in white. Brilliant blue lakes finished the picture by filling some of the lowest

valleys with mirrors of the sky.

Something stirred in Telkas when he saw that sight, rising far into the distance.

Beyond it, the world obscured into a pale blue nothingness. Fewald told him that another

great ocean lay in that direction. As far as he knew, the only thing that lay beyond their

world was more water. But there were still the pristine valleys and lakes. As they climbed

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further into the larger red mountains, and looked down upon them, Telkas began to get

ideas in his head. Those plentiful valleys couldn’t all be inhabited. And what if there

were artifacts and ancient secrets within them? The desire overwhelmed him to jump

from the mountain pass, to be airborne and land in the midst of those valleys, to explore

them, to tear open their canopies and pry out their secrets for others to see. A hand on his

shoulder shook him from his reverie.

“Telkas, we are very close now. We will stop soon, and send forward a scouting

party. There has been a lot of change since Greth has last been here, some years ago. I

want you to come with us, and talk to the Silaseans, if we meet any.”

There were signs of excavation, a clearing of the path, strange ruts in the

roadway, drag marks through the dirt. The road continued upwards, and the wagons

stopped in a large flat area that extended into the mountain to form a sort of alcove. This

area was more recent than the others they had passed through to get here.

Fewald ordered a perimeter to be set up, placing guards all around the wagons.

Greth was with him. The entire journey, Greth had been watching Telkas, saying nothing but always vigilant of his movements and actions. Now, The both of them gathered their people about. Fewald stepped forward.

“My people, we are here for our chief, to carry out his will because it best

represents who we are. We will not stand aside and let them die.” Fewad paused, looking

at Telkas. “We will not put ourselves in danger, either, if we can avoid it. This mission is

to serve the greater good. We will be alert, but kind, be armed, but cautious to strike. Do

not attack any Silasean unless your life is at risk.”

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Fewald chose seven others, the fastest and best marksmen to accompany Greth,

Telkas, and himself. They moved up the pathway as it curved to the left into the

mountains, leaving the wide views behind them. They reached the crest of the road, and

began to make their way cautiously downwards. Telkas looked down to find the road

extended downwards, branching off at a distance several points, winding through shallow

valleys into the rocky crags.

Greth strung his bow. “I hear something.” There was a muffled sound of voices.

Rocks fell, sliding down from the small cliffs to their right.

Jorun was at front, next to Greth. As he stepped forwards, hand on his bow, his

foot, and then his leg and body, crumbled through the red dirt of the road, and slid into a

fast appearing hole in the ground. Jorun let out a piercing cry and slipped into darkness.

The group ran quickly to assist him, but Telkas was the closest. When he got there, he

looked into the blackness and was greeted by a large pair of round eyes.

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CHAPTER XIII

THE DARK

Cries of fear echoed from the cavern below, Telkas hesitated for a moment, and then plunged down into the hole, sliding on dirt. He looked about but the eyes had vanished. The sides had begun to collapse more, and inside there was a mess of materials, wooden beams, and rubble. Telkas searched for Jorun in the mottled light filtering from the upper world. The passage extended far to the right, with a large number of support timbers, much more than he remembered as normal. The Jahe began sliding down around him. It was then that Telkas noticed a hand sticking up from the rubble near him.

Hurriedly he began digging, unearthing it. The hand was small, and he realized as he got a hold on a shoulder and pulled, with the help of another Jahe, that the skin was pale. It was a young boy, and when he saw Telkas, he recoiled in fear. Telkas put out his hands, reached for a piece of dried fish form his pack, but the boy was too scared to take it. He ran away before he could say anything more.

Fewald began pulling a large beam off the ground, and uncovered a sputtering

Jorun. “Clear them off, see if anyone is hurt.”

Soon there was a group of frightened Silaseans huddled against the wall, in their shroud of darkness. Most of them had run off, but the smell of food had kept perhaps ten of them hovering strangely nearby, eating from a bag of the fish that Fewald had brought.

Fewald was intensely alert, in a way that Telkas had never seen before. He looked back 181

and forth, examining and identifying everything around him, as if he were sizing up every

potential situation, looking for danger.

“What is this place?” Greth asked gruffly, peering into the dark from the surface,

shading his eyes. “It looks like one of your caves, Tel—.”

Fewald cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Torun, what do you think this place is?”

Everyone was silent for a moment, until Telkas realized that Fewald and his Jahe were all looking at him, expectantly. “I—suppose that it’s a tunnel they are digging to find more foodstuffs and to reach areas with more timber. Timber like this, that they use to hold up the tunnels.” He kicked at a half-buried log. “It should lead to other areas.”

“Areas where an attack could be waiting in some dark hole in the side.” Greth sat on the broken ceiling of the tunnel, momentarily scanning the area above ground in between sentences.

Telkas looked at Fewald. “I think that we should wait for them to come to us. We don’t know what else is ahead. Maybe we should retreat to the surface and wait for them to come out and talk. We can’t fight them in the caves.”

Fewald surveyed the ceiling of the cave. “It would be no easy thing to get back up to where we have come, either. And, if they catch us while climbing over this rubble and

decide to shoot, it would be easy pickings. We should create some type of defense--.”

From the darkness came a volley of arrows. One caught the Jahe that was

standing next to him square in the shoulder, and he fell backwards in pain and surprise.

Fewald yelled for cover, and they squeezed behind the rubble, pulling out their bows and

stringing arrows. Out of the tunnel a huge balding Silasean with a mace rushed into their

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midst; he went for Fewald, but Telkas was there, deflecting the blow with a piece of wooden pole laying in the ruins.

Fewald turned to knock him off balance, and as he turned, Telkas looked about trying to see any other danger. To his side was Greth, not ten feet away, a poison arrow notched, pointing at Telkas’s heart.

In a moment Telkas saw his story; he would have shot for the Silasean digger, but missed, killing Telkas by mistake. Telkas raised his hand, and looked at his enemy. The

Arrow hung on the bow, quivering, straining to fly.

The moment was gone; Fewald turned and pulled Telkas behind a log as over twenty Silasean hunters melted out of the shadow, bows drawn.

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CHAPTER XIV

CAVERNS

They were thrown, without ceremony, onto the floor of the great chamber. Telkas looked, saw the hearth at the center, the coals glowing, tiny bright points in the dim light.

The openings above let filtered light shimmer ahead, across the packed earth that touched his cheek. There were few Silaseans; most had moved up the ladders to the safety of their dens. The chamber was smaller than he remembered. Long ago in what seemed to be another life he had thought of this dome as the world. It had been the center of a universe.

Now it seemed tiny. It seemed dark, and small.

Fewald lay to his right, face in the earth. A hunter with his large hakki drawn held it above, to keep him down. Fewald smiled slightly at Telkas’s gaze. There was a murmur of voices, approaching fast, exited, arguing. Telkas strained but couldn’t make out the words.

Fewald coughed, the air stirred fine particles from the floor. “I think that Greth might have been right about your people.”

A gruff voice cut him off. “The Jordanus, our eldest and wisest is here. Answer his questions with respect. Who is your leader, invaders?”

Fewald raised his head, long hair falling into the dirt. “I am.” The hunter at his back withdrew his blade and pulled him up roughly by the shoulder. Telkas craned his neck as best he could to see. The Jordanus was standing before them, in front of the 184

hearth, a group of hooded elders at his back. Next to him there was the short heavy man

who had captured them. He rubbed his balding head with stubby fingers.

The Jordanus raised his hands slightly, palms forward. “We have killed each

other. Fought wars. Why are you here?”

Fewald bowed his head as best he could. “It is true that we have fought and died

against one another. But we have not come so far for blood. As people to people, we

bring food, and wish for a peace between us. There is no war to be fought here.”

The short man cried out in a fit of anger, his words gurgling with hate. “You see what I have said is true! They offer food, after long seasons of death. It can only be a trick. I have sent out hunters to discover what they really plan.”

The elders began to whisper to one another, but the Jordanus raised a thin hand to quiet them all. “You say peace? And to bring food? We have seen the parcels of meat you carried. Unfortunately, it has been eaten already by those working in the tunnel you collapsed.”

A young Jahe cried out. “This tunnel collapsed beneath us—.” But a sharp blade pressed lightly into his back, and he quickly fell silent.

The Jordanus continued. “We will see what Ruk’s hunters will tell us when they return.” He looked toward the short man. “See that they do not kill yet.” Ruk nodded, whispered quietly to a hunter near him. The Jordanus watched the man leave, then shifted to Fewald. “What are you called, wild man?”

“Fewald.”

“Fewald of the outer world, we will see if your claims are true. The diggers are to be examined, to see if your poisons are present in your food as they are in these.” He

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gestured to the pile of blue arrows on the floor. “But even if they are not killed, we will

discover for ourselves why you are here.”

Fewald began to speak, calmly as he could, but Telkas could detect a stress in his words. “We have many more warriors hidden nearby, bringing wagons with goods, as a gesture of peace to your people. We come armed for our own protection, which you must understand. They are armed with these arrows, and will not hesitate to use them. We wish only to bring you these goods, and to be gone. Let us go to them, to let them bring these foods to you. If you do not, and choose to try to destroy us, I can assure you that even if

you succeed you will have many losses, and many more will come to find what has

happened to us. We have had much death between us. Let it stop on this day.”

The Jordanus considered, turning and pacing a moment. Turning, his sharp eyes

caught Telkas’s gaze for a moment. Those eyes. Dark, piercing. They flickered, set into

the deep sockets of his skull, skin spread weakly across the face, tightened. Telkas

stopped breathing. His heart leaped. After a moment, the eyes shifted back to Fewald.

“We will consider your words. Until then you will be held in a place that you cannot escape from. Take them to the blocked passage.”

They were pulled to their feet once again. Telkas felt the rough cloth of the leggings catching on his brace, and hoped that it wouldn’t tear. As they left the chamber he saw that the Jordanus stood in a forming circle of the elders, talking quietly.

The Hunters led them to the opening that descended into the lowest regions of

Silas. He realized with a jolt as they continued that it was the passage which led to the cavern where he had found the artifacts nearly a season before.

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He was soon proved right. The beams that secured the tunnel became older, more

roughly hewn, the light from the stones dimmer. Soon it was difficult for him to see

anything at all, and he imagined the Jahe were all but blind. As his sight lessened, he

became more aware of the sounds around him, the tapping of their feet on the floor, the

breathing of people, both Jahe and Silasean, melding into one same sound, the human

sound.

After a long walk in silence, they were commanded to stop. The outline of a

hunter, lean and muscular, stood in the fading blue glow of the few stones which still

emitted light.

“You will stay here. There is nothing but stone and earth behind you, and we will

watch you from the mouth of this cavern. You cannot escape.” Telaks watched the

hunters retreat to beyond their sight, where a bend in the tunnel hid them. Several stayed

behind at the bend, arms folded, watching silently.

“Well this is a good mess you have landed us in.”

Telkas was silent, until he looked up and saw that Greth was standing near,

looking at him.

“What did I do? You nearly shot me with an arrow in the fight above.”

“How dare you—you’re supposed to be guiding—.”

Fewald grabbed Greth’s hand at the wrist. “Silence” He hissed. “Toreth is Jahe, as are you. No one here will speak otherwise while we are in this place, for the protection of us all.”

Greth clamped his mouth shut, but his eyes reminded Telkas of the red embers in the great dome above them.

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Fewald turned to address them all. “We are lucky. Toreth spoke of how this

reception might be, and he has not lied to us. We all knew these risks, and it was done.

We will wait now, for that is all there is to be done.”

He motioned for Telkas to come closer as the others sat down to attempt to rest and bind their wounds. He spoke quietly.

“Toreth, what do you know about this place?”

Telkas turned his eyes to the area behind them. It looked to be very near to the place where the old entrance he used to reach the subway had been, but just short. His hopes fell.

“I do know this place; it is very near to the tunnel where I found the artifacts. It looks like they collapsed the tunnel after I was banished.”

Fewald’s expression brightened, just a little. “Is there something to be done then?”

Telkas considered the cave-in. it was high, perhaps three times more than he. The pile arched back on itself, and loose stones looked to be ready to tumble.

“I don’t think so.” Telkas looked towards the wall, on the left side. There was the crumpled hole where he had stored the bar of ore, used to pry open the doorway. “It’s very close to the entrance, but there are huge amounts of heavy stones in the way. There is no way we could move it, even if they wouldn’t hear us trying. Besides, the cavern beyond is sealed.”

Fewald’s slight smile lowered, disappearing. “It may not matter. I see them coming back down.”

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There was a small group of elders descending, with a stately and tall (for a

Silasean) man at their front. He stopped a short distance from them. The lead man

addressed them.

“Wild men, we have seen your warriors and they do carry the wagons. But we

will wait to see if the food the diggers have eaten is safe. We will wait the night out for

them, and if they live, then you will be reunited with your people. If not, then you will

die, and we will have war. We have spoken with your warriors, and they have asked for

one of you to come back as proof that the rest of you live. It cannot be your leader, but it

is up to you who else to choose. You will return in one moon passage.”

Fewald turned to Greth. “You will go, and lead while I am here. Do not attack

unless you will be killed. We are still here for peace.”

Greth’s face looked ashen in the light. He was anguished, his face twisted, but he pulled himself away at Fewald’s order and left with the guards, and the elders.

Telkas watched Greth move beyond the bend. “You think he will obey your orders?”

Fewald turned his head, mouth flat, a slight look of indignation. “Greth knows the result of a massive attack. Many of us would die, including all of us in the cavern. He may wish you dead, but he would give his own to protect me.”

“You saw what he did, during the fight back there. He took out the arrow, pointed it—.”

He nodded, staring into the dark. “I did see. This is not a matter to be discussed here. But, I will deal with it, Telk—Toreth.” He laughed softly. “Hard to remember that.

For now we will try to rest.”

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Images forced themselves into Telkas’s head. Thoughts of dark hair, a light voice like bells during the seasonal festivals, and the thoughts of what could have been. Jestea.

He had to find her, before they were sent away, never to return.

It was always the little things he remembered. The comb in her hair. Its pearled whiteness against her midnight tresses. The light skin. Lightning churned his stomach, as he fought off the thought that she must have married. There could still be hope. Perhaps that digger had not wanted her, or wanted another woman instead. He should have taken her with him.

In the cavern, Telkas scooted towards Fewald again, as they all sat in the dirt and stone. “I want to look for Jestea. There is a chance I may never find her again if I don’t look now. Once I am out, I can lose my jacket and appear as one of the people well enough.”

Fewald nodded. “I don’t think they would harm us even if you were missing. That would ruin a piece of leverage. But I don’t think it’s wise for you to leave. You could put

yourself in danger, and possibly the rest of us as well.”

Telkas paused, and thought. There had to be some way that he could get just a

half hour to be away. He watched as Fewald shivered slightly. “We could all gather in a

small group in the corner. It would at least hide our numbers.”

Fewald did not look convinced. “I know that this woman is important to you, but

there is no way to reach her, even if they would not see all of us at first glance. You

cannot get past the guard.”

Telkas looked over his shoulder at the bend in the tunnel. “Guard?”

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Fewald wrapped his arms in his shirt. “Yes, two of them left to take Greth to the

surface. There is only one now, sitting on the ground.”

Telkas stared at the man. He sat in the light that shone from the other side of the bend, dimly green and falling about him in patches. His arms were folded, and his legs sat limply on the rock floor.

Telkas considered the figure. “He looks…Dead.” But he couldn’t be dead. They had only left with Greth an hour or so before, he was sure.

Fewald stretched in the dampness, then looked back at Telkas, then to the guard.

“He seems oddly silent. But that doesn’t mean you can get past him.”

Removing his jacket, Telkas laid it onto a pile of small boulders, dressing it up as best he could so that it appeared to be a man sleeping, curled up on the floor. The others were wrapped in their garments, huddled in the corner. They looked at him, curiously. He stripped to his sleeveless shirt, which was poor cloth, and rolled his pants down as far as they would go, ensuring that his leg brace was fully covered. His skin was still oddly pale next to Fewald’s, though he had been in the sun often the past year.

Telkas sat next to Fewald, who was still studying the guard. “Fewald,” he said, face drawn into serious lines, “I left Jestea here once before. I have no idea what has happened to her, but I can’t live with myself if I leave her here again. I still look like a

Silasean. Once I am past him, I can be gone to look for her and back very quickly.”

Fewald cast a sideways glance at Telkas, eyes narrowed. “How do you know where to find her so quickly?”

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“She is a fisherwoman, and the fish are always out in the Grottoes during the

night. They come deeper into the caves to feed on small creatures that retreat under cover of darkness. If she is still here, it is very likely that that is where she is.”

“What will you do if you find her? How will you get her out?”

“I am not sure if she even wants to come. But once they bring the wagons into

Silas, we could slip her inside. Or cover her with a tunic somehow and leave with the

others. But however I think about that later, I must see her. I must.”

Fewald lowered his head. “I will try to cover for you as best I can, but know that

if you do not return soon, we have no idea what they might do if they would somehow

find out what you have done. First, go and see if the guard is alert.”

Telkas opened his chest to the close air around him; drawing it in, he was

surprised momentarily by the memory of the world around him, a world that had been

his, that he had felt was his own, until that instant. He saw the guard laying still at the

bend, looked back and saw Fewald and the rest of the Jahe in the corner, wrapped tightly

in their garments against the chill of the underworld. He had never felt separated from

this place, where he had been born, a place that he had hated. It was still there, the

feeling, despite his realization. It was as if there were no place left that he belonged to.

He saw that Fewald was watching, waiting for him to move. Telkas nodded, and began to

walk towards the bend.

The lights wavered, faintly. As he walked past each one, it’s glow brightened and

faded, the light showing the still pale color of his skin as he glanced down to find his

way. Even though he had walked this passage many times, after just a year above ground

he could not find the rhythm to walk gracefully up the low wide steps in the flat stone.

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The guard was breathing shallowly as Telkas approached. He had an impulse to

turn around and rush back. Surely, something would happen. What about the others? He

had no idea what the Jordanus would do if he was found among them. Would he be

recognized? He looked down at the man.

Telkas was close enough now that he could see the threadbare tunic of a hunter

hanging loose about his chest. The man was very young, but the Hakki hunting blade that

marked a full hunter hung at his side in its sheath, the teeth of scrits running along the

sides. Telkas knelt, a short distance away. The man’s skin was thin, and the bones of his

shoulders and arms were clearly visible beneath it. He looked almost starved, eyes closed

in the reverie of a person who hadn’t eaten for some time. Telkas turned back to the

barely visible corner past the bend, waving to indicate that it was safe to move.

“Mh—Hey wha—what are you doing?” Telkas snapped back to find the guard alert. He was still groggy, but strange clear eyes locked onto his own.

Telkas stood. “I, I’m sorry, I—.”

“Enough. You can’t be here. The prisoners can’t be seen. What’s your position?”

Telkas realized that the Guard thought he was a Silasean. He stammered “Cloth mender.”

The eyes studied him, half-drowsy, looking up and down, at Telkas’s old tunic, his frayed pants, and sandals. Heart pounding, he remembered that his sandals were Jahe, larger, with more straps, and thick bottoms to protect against the rocks and brush in the upper world. He resisted the nervous urge to shuffle his feet, trying with all his might not to draw attention to them.

“A man cloth-mender?”

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“I was, injured…”

The air was still. The guard watched him and was silent. Then he laughed. The corners of his mouth curled upwards.

“Get to your cloth woman. Leave these murderers alone, and do your job. You wouldn’t want anyone to know you are here, would you?” The hunter spat over his shoulder, letting it drip down the wall, and crossed his arms behind his head.

Telkas nodded, and disappeared into the passage.

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CHAPTER XV

REUNITED

If memory served, the grottoes were beyond the passage just ahead. It had taken him precious minutes to backtrack through his mind, hazy and unreliable with time spent away, to remember the way to the fishing cavern. Telkas wondered how he was going to get back to the others now that the guard had seen him. He might have put all of their lives in jeopardy, stopping to look at the man. But he hadn’t been recognized; he still passed for a person of the underworld, even with his time spent in the burning rays of the sun. Now he hoped as he hurried through the greened light of the glowstones that Jestea was still fishing with her basket in the river ahead.

The cavern was as he had remembered it. As the moon glowed unseen overhead, the light opened to him. The entrance moved from the small cavern, opening and expanding in a low, vast, expansive arc of ceiling rock. The blue-green hue of light expanded across gradually descending pools of water in the rock, tiered and separated by tiny walls of minerals, perforated by veins of glowstone. Over the tops, water flowed, entering the cavern to his left, pouring over each tiny reservoir until it reached the lowest points, where it gathered into the beginning of the large underground river that coursed through the deepest parts of Silas. The soothing trickle of water pouring lightly over a hundred pool rims filled the background.

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Telkas moved out of the penetrating glow, to an outcropping of rock near the doorway. In the ethereal light a few dozen women stood with their bare feet in the water, or walked along the thin rims, moving nets and carrying baskets. They were spaced far apart, and the huge room seemed even larger because of it. The women were slender, garbed in white, the shimmering material of their clothes sometimes made more clear at their feet, hanging heavily with the weight of water. She had to be one of them.

Drawing his hood about his face, Telkas began to work his way around the periphery, searching the faces. In their every curve and every movement he strained, trying to discern Jestea.

The nearest was standing in a large pool some ten yards across. The woman looked young, with dark hair that caught the green glow in its sheen. Her back was to him, and as he approached, foot by foot, she set down her basket, leaning. He saw that it was full of the bland meal that they used to feed the fish which spawned in the pools.

With delicate hands she drew the hem of her dress up her leg, to wring the water from it before she stepped onto the pool’s rim.

Telkas stepped from the rocky edge of the cavern, balancing his good foot on the edge. He waited, breath held, watching her. She was more filled out than Jestea, her body full and strong under the dress. She moved with a deliberate thought behind her actions, the kind of person who was aware of the world around her, who didn’t walk in a daze.

Telkas opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. Jestea was not of this world, he thought.

She had always drifted in and out of his thoughts, but shewas not like this woman. He knew, even though they had only begunto know each other before he had left her, that she was a phantom. She was somehow beyond the underworld. She was there to push him, to

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believe in him. She was not solidly of this cavern, this place, because she belonged

somewhere else. And he hadn’t taken her with him.

He snapped to when he realized that the woman’s eyes were studying him, though

she was still poised, half knelt, and having dropped her dress back into the water.

“What do you want, watching me like that?” her face was round, her skin light and taught with youth.

“I’m sorry. I was looking for someone.”

“Well, who is it?”

“J-Jestea?” Telkas said, in a mixture between a statement and a question.

The woman cocked her head in a faint movement, perplexed. Lifting her hand, she raised a finger, pointing toward the lowest sections of the cavern, where the river gathered. There, arranging a net, was the figure of a young woman, bent over her work.

Telkas smiled at the woman with the basket, nodding in acknowledgement. She watched him for a while, as he made his way

Telkas knew he was scared the moment she came clearly into focus. So much time had passed, thinking of her, dreaming, remembering. It was as if she wasn’t there at all—her slender legs dipping into the lighted pool below, back to him, tiny ripples denoting her movements, ringing and escaping from the fair skin. He almost couldn’t bear to look at her, as equal as he couldn’t take his eyes off her swaying dark hair, shifting, and its lightness wifting in the slightest breath of air. Her long arms cast the net back and forth, herding tiny silver fish betrayed by the faintest light from her lamp, and the blue crystals above. It was darker here, away from the others, where the adult fish lived in the long bed of the gathering river.

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His breathing came fast; he was only a few yards from her. He felt the impulse to announce himself, but the words did not come, an invisible hand compressing his throat, rendering him mute. He saw the curves of her legs, her backside melting into the indescribable curve of her hips, to back, then the small shoulders, draped in a white, knitted shawl. She was humming softly to herself. remember the damp warmth of tears on my shoulder, trails now cold, reminding.

I know the future. Mistakes, defining, show

me what I can do now, that I haven’t before. There is always another chance to be--

“Jestea?” It was all he could muster.

Telkas watched her pause, the hair freezing, then the slight twitch, her head half- turned, then came fully. Her bright eyes reflected the lamplight, its small brown disk perched at the water’s edge.

The eyes locked.

They widened. “Telkas?” she let her arms lower, dropping the ends of the net. Its rough plant fibers sank the rest of the way into the pool, the school of fish darted backwards in a crystalline explosion beneath the barely disturbed water.

He nodded, lowering his hood. “I’m back.”

Her eyes grew glassy. “Where have you been? I never thought…”

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He felt drawn towards her. Stepping into the water, he felt his heart beat faster,

strong. He was strong. He felt his body move, felt numb, the muscles toned beneath his

clothes. He was invigorated, was weaker than ever, all at once.

“I was in the outer world. But I came back, when I heard about… everything.”

Jestea stepped away, slightly, sending minute waves back from her bare calves and feet. He saw her toes through the water. She had turned fully, and saw her body through her tunic, the curved lines, the fullness of her womanly body. His cheeks burned red.

“Telkas, I…” she looked upwards, at the cascading levels of water above. None of the women had seen them, they moved, oblivious, mind to task. “Come here.” She moved to him, rippling the water, grabbing his hand. It was cold. She pulled him into the shadows of the mouth of the cavern in front of them, where the water was deep and clear.

The chill enveloped his legs, wetting the ends of his coat as they moved into the darker interior of the river passage. He watched her move, taught legs moving through the weight of the water. He didn’t remember the beginning of the river Runding being so deep.

Jestea looked into his eyes. Clasping his other hand in hers, she was silent, eyes full, hopeful. “Telkas, is it you?” her hands moved, grasping his large shoulders, fingers pulling aside his long hair, sliding the hood from his crown. Biting her lip slightly, she touched his sun darkened face. “You are so different.”

He nodded. “I’ve been gone a long time.”

Her eyes grew sad. “Almost a whole cycle. What—what happened to you?”

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“I lived in the upper world, Jestea. I learned so much, from the wildmen, they

showed me many things…”

“And your leg!” he raised a hand to quiet her as she began to kneel to look at it.

“I made a machine out of wood and bone that helps me walk.” He lifted his pant leg, showing her the brace. “So many things have changed. But not you. Except growing more beautiful.” Telkas immediately felt weak, strange for showing his feelings. His face grew red again.

The corners of her lips shifted, moving up, showing her teeth in a slight line along her red lips. “I missed you.” She straightened, and moved to him.

Telkas felt the swirl of the water between their knees as her body came to him. He smelled the earth and scent of flowers about her as she moved in and pressed against his chest. He looked overhead, at the channel above. The glowstone here was different, the river channel was unmined. It sparkled in tiny bits of green, absorbing the light reflected off the clear water, extending down the course of the river as it extended into the depths, lined with stars. He put his arms around her, holding, breathing her scent deep. “How has it been here, truly?” He felt warmth and wet on his neck, and knew that her tears flowed.

“It’s been terrible.” She began to shake against him, and he fought the urge to tear. “There is no food. We work the same and less and less comes. The hunters bring no meat, the tunnels collapse. Even the fish die. We find them floating, in little groups by the mouth of Runding. They can’t take the water. The men are cruel… and we are dying. Our whole Silas is starving…” She began to sob.

Telkas rubbed her back. He knew that the Jordanus had been lying, but he never thought that things were this bad. A thought occurred to him, and he cupped her head,

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pulling it back softly so that he could look into her tear-streaked face. “What did you say

about the water? What’s wrong with it?”

Still sniffling, she knelt and retrieved a cupped hand of the river water, and

brought it to his face. “Drink.”

He took her hand, draining the contents. It tasted bitter, and his thoughts drifted to the ocean near Valdea. “It tastes of the sea.”

She looked at him, questioning. “The sea? The blue water in the distance?”

Telkas nodded. I’ve been to the great thundering water, walked through the rivers at its base. And I have seen the blue water, Jestea. It’s amazing. Bigger than the sky. It has no end.”

Her eyes widened. “You’ve been over the world. But how did you survive the fire monsters? And the wild men. They didn’t try to kill you?”

Telkas thought of Greth. “Some of them have tried. But Their chief, Loka, and his son took me in and are my friends. They gave me a home, and…” He broke into a smile in spite of himself. “Jestea, do you remember my models? The ideas in the panel?” She nodded. “I built them. Two of them, and some of the wildmen, the Jahe, they call themselves, they helped me. And it works! They are big enough for a family to live in.”

Jestea’s jaw dropped open. “That’s wonderful… Telkas, I thought you were dead.

And now, everything is so different… I don’t know what to think. But this is a dream. It has to be.”

He brushed her hair aside, curling his finder delicately along her cheek. “I should have never left you.”

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She pulled away, arms crossed. “I wanted to die for moons afterward. I wanted to go with you, to the afterworld. Life here, it was… awful. I ached every day. All I wanted was to die. Ruk is horrible, cruel.”

Understanding melted into Telkas’s mind. A twinge of pain twisted his heart.

“Ruk?”

Her head lowered. “I had to marry him. My father’s friend, the head digger in the north passages…”

He knew it had to be like this. Somehow, he had known, in his head. In some other way, a way he couldn’t understand, he could not really give in to it. She couldn’t really be married. Not really. He looked at her face, full of pain, twisted with emotion but still full and beautiful. He knew that he loved her.

“There is nothing to this marriage. You were made to do it.” He felt his hands shaking, and he moved them down to his sides.

She looked at him, serious and with a gaze full of meaning. “There is—something to it, Telkas. I—.”

He raised a hand, putting it around her shoulder. He felt strong, confident, and wanted to share that with her. “Don’t worry about anything else Jestea. I’ve come back for you.” He felt the words coming, the excitement welling up in his chest. “I’ve loved you every day I’ve known you, since we came into the ancient cavern, and I’ve thought of you every day since I left you here. I am trying to help everyone down here if I can, but I came here for you.”

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Her face melted, all seriousness gone. She seemed sad, but in the center of her

eye, the window to the soul, a spark of excitement burned. It was like he had once

remembered it, before any of this had happened.

Without thinking, he pulled her close, and drew her lips to his. Her mouth was

warm, she tasted sweet, smelling of some far off scent of flower, something that he

couldn’t quite place. He put his arms around her, in the dripping recesses of the cavern.

He couldn’t help noticing how her head fit nicely into the space between his chin and

shoulder.

He felt her breathing, the smallness of her arms, held his hand on the small of her

back. And when she looked up at him, there was no reservation. He had been afraid that

the love would not be returned to him, but in the grottoes, in the deepening water, in the

dripping blue light above, they glowed.

She leaned into him, breathed calm. “What do we do now?”

He didn’t hesitate. “You come with me. Now. Like it should have been.”

She nodded. “But I can’t be seen. Ruk would… it would be terrible.”

Telkas shrugged. “Doesn’t he have other women? He can find another wife. You don’t need to be near that dirty digger ever again.”

As Telkas bent his mind to figure how they could escape, a single tear trailed unnoticed down Jestea’s cheek.

“We’ll send you out with the Silaseans. I can pass for one of us still. I got down here, and I can do it above ground as well.

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Turning his hand over in hers, she looked at his skin. “It’s a wonder that they didn’t notice you. Your skin is darker than any hunter’s now. You look… so different.

Your eyes are different.”

Telkas gazed at the woman he loved. Deep details of personality were etched into his face, and as he reached out his hand to her, he held it firm, strong. Telkas knew what he wanted, had her in his clasp. He motioned to the entryway, and together they moved out into the grotto, Jestea pausing to flip the water from her sandals in a swift motion.

The net they left, swirling in the current, lit by the glowstone.

They moved now with speed through the cavern, keeping to the side and moving around rocks so as not to attract attention. There was little to worry about; the fisherwomen were busy at their tasks, looking into the clear water.

They moved through the still night air of the passageway, Telkas thinking fast, his mind jumbled with the stress of trying to figure out the next strategy. How were they to escape with more than two of them? What if his absence had been discovered? His blood coursed through his veins, his head pounded, and all the while he kept his grip on Jestea’s hand, leading her through winding passages.

They neared the opening of the collapsed passageway where the others were being held. Telkas pulled her aside under an alcove of rock, out of the way of prying eyes.

“I’m not sure how we are going to get out of here, but listen. If the guard is asleep, I can give you my cloak. You’ll sneak down past him, and you will meet the

Jahe—(She gave him a confused look) – er, the wildmen, down in the passage. They are being kept there, but they’ll be let go once The Jordanus realizes that the food isn’t

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poisoned. Ask for Fewald, tell him what our plan is. They will protect you. I’ll sneak out and meet you up above. Understand?”

Her face quivered a little. “I don’t know what to do. All of this is difficult…”

Telkas saw the hesitation in her face, the strings of doubt tugging at her, invisible.

“You want to leave here, don’t you? We can’t stay here.”

There was something hidden, a part of her mind that he couldn’t fathom. He decided there that it was something they could work out later. All that mattered now was that they escape, make their way to the surface. He told her. “Trust me. It’s the only thing

I can think of now, and we have no time. Don’t you trust me?” he put his hand on the side

of her face, felt the chill of the air in her hair.

She nodded.

The passage was lit dimly, but Telkas could make out the curve where the guard was positioned. She peered around the corner, next to him.

She hooked his arm with hers. “He looks asleep.”

Telkas couldn’t imagine his luck. His emotions fluttered. It would all work out okay. Nothing to worry about. The pair of them moved forward, and he motioned for her to keep going. Her eyes locked onto his. Fear and doubt bled from them, and he mustered as much strength as he could, trying to push the look of a confident man into his gaze, to make her feel that it would be alright. She let go of his hand, and padded softly past the sleeping guard.

Telkas could not believe his luck, but a sickening feeling of doubt ate at his stomach. He could only hope that they would be released. Then he could sneak out at daybreak. If they were not released, it would not matter. All would be over anyway.

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Telkas waited until she was down into the tunnel, past the bend and out of his

sight. He hoped that she would be able to explain everything.

He knew he risked everything, that there was great danger in bringing her out of this place, but something inside him made it feel fine. He knew he might be captured on the way out, and that the Jahe might not be able to wait for him. He didn’t even know which way they would take to return to Valdea. It was as if a hidden hand controlled him, moving his hands, pushing him to act on his desire for her. He moved across the larger passage from which the prisoner tunnel moved, and found a safe place to wait. Greth had been gone for almost the amount of time Fewald asked, and The Jordanus knew that. The old man would have to act soon. He knew that Silas was weak. There was no way he would risk a battle, especially when more Jahe were only a few days march away. Greth likely had runners ready to carry a call for aid, and no Silasean could match their speed.

The Jordanus, for all his faults, was not stupid. He would know his limits.

Telkas settled in behind a rock outcropping where he could watch the tunnel entrance for movement, in a corner darkened by a glowstone which had been removed or lost. It did not take long for a group of diggers to make their way down the seldom used passage. There were three of them, their short stocky frames trudging along with an oil lamp in the hand of their leader. He looked very familiar to Telkas, but he couldn’t quite place him. They disappeared into the prisoner tunnel, and soon shouting erupted. Telkas nearly leaped out of his hiding place, but calmed as he realized that the guard was probably being punished for sleeping. He was right.

The form of the poor man was soon thrown out into the passageway, coughing into the dust. The leader of the diggers emerged, furious, moving much faster than Telkas

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would have given him credit for. His round form hurtled into the center, legs almost

bowed. He gave the downed man a savage kick in the stomach, and the hunter howled in

pain.

“You are a damned fool! How dare you nod of at a time like this! Our world is

under threat. What do you have to say? Speak, traitor.”

The young man coughed, sitting up and curled into himself, his arms holding his stomach. “I—I could not, I—forgive me Ruk. I could not stay alert. I am so hungry…”

The digger gave another savage kick.

Telkas thought a moment. That name. this couldn’t be the same Ruk that Jestea…

Already on edge, Telkas felt the fight response leak into his blood, his heart pumped fast.

He sunk to the floor. It could all be over for this. How would they escape this? Had he

killed them all?

Ruk walked away from the man, then turned back as if to strike again. “You’re to

be fed today, are you not?” He snarled.

The hunter nodded, sputtering and coughing.

“You’ll have to wait another day extra instead of the usual two this time. Go drink

the water from the river, Skrit shit. You’ll get salt instead of fish. Get out of my sight. I

need to tell the Jordanus that the prisoners are ready. We will move them into the great

hall for the people to see. See that you make use of yourself for once fool.” At that, he

stormed off.

The Hunter sat in the middle of the floor for a minute, cradling his middle. Soon, the other two diggers emerged from the tunnel, leading the Jahe. Telkas felt he could

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breathe again. There was Jestea, wearing his hood, in the middle. Fewald looked around

the halls momentarily as he was led out. Telkas knew he was looking for him.

The diggers passed by the form of the young hunter, and one of them spit on him

as he was down. They were soon gone. Telkas watched the Jahe, and the form of Jestea,

disappear up the slope leading to the main part of Silas. He meant to follow them, and

could have slipped past the young hunter easily, but he could not bring himself to leave.

he just sat there, transfixed, watching the young man sit up, and begin to cry.

After a few minutes, another hunter came down in the direction that Ruk, and later the Jahe, had gone. The man knelt down, putting his hand on the younger one’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

The injured hunter wiped away his tears. “Hello Tores. I’m alright. Damn digger

beat me.”

“What happened?”

“I couldn’t help it. I fell asleep. Couldn’t have been longer than an hour. I’m just

so hungry. Besides, where are the wildmen going to go? The worst that would happen is

that they would get lost. They have a man with a limp too. Can’t go too fast.”

Telkas bit his hand.

The older man nodded. “I don’t see what the trouble is anyway to make them out

to be so bad. If they bring us food, why not let them? I don’t know why they would want

to but if someone is offering I’m going to take it. We can always kill them later.”

The young hunter got to his feet, groaning, putting his arm around his friend. “If it

was up to me, I’d take them over some of the ones here, like that Ruk. He’s looking to

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cause problems. Plus he gets to eat every day. Look at how fat he is. You know he gets more than the rest of us.”

The older man nodded. “I know.” He looked around, checking to see if anyone was near. “I just got back from checking on the ones that were fed the upperworlder food.

They seemed fine, but then some of the elders came in, and examined their hands and their mouths. They were convinced that they were sick. All we were allowed to give them was water from vases they brought. I would have thought that the wildmen would be full of dirty tricks, but” Here the man’s voice grew quieter still. “They seemed fine. If they are really after peace, and are bringing this food we need so badly, then we could at least see what they have to say. There was a time I would have said no, but we need it..”

They made their way slowly to the upper chambers, the older assisting the younger. Telkas followed silently in the dark, hiding the slight limp as best he could.

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CHAPTER XVI

THE PEOPLE

It took him some time to make his way into the great hall, through the throngs of

Silaseans making their way into the large space. He was thankful for the commotion; it helped him to slip to the edge of the huge dome and take a place that was relatively concealed next to an old doorway.

Needs more

Telkas watched their procession from the entryway. The long, tall forms of the

Jahe moved, surrounded by the smaller hunters of Silas. He could clearly make out

Jestea’s shorter form, shrouded in his cloak, and hoped that she looked the same as he had. It would be so easy for a mistake to happen, for a slip, a glance, to end everything.

He felt a choking sensation creep up his throat.

The foodstuffs lay in a pile of crates and boxes near the center of the great hall, in the center of a large crowd of common people, the fire in the center reflecting their pale faces. Eyes gleamed, the thousands of pupils surrounding, following, and some rising up and dotting the dwellings in the dome above like embers from the rising flames.

Another group parted the throngs of people, making its way to meet the prisoners at its center. There was a hushed anticipation as all of the Silasean people followed the two groups, waiting for some kind of action to take place.

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Into Telkas’s view they came together near the huge hearth. Into the light stepped the figure of an ancient man. It was him.

Telkas began to feel sick. Looking at The Jordanus again, all of the pain came back. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, and memories began to flood back into his head. He thought he could see her parents, begging her to reconsider leaving, and a short, stooped figure standing on the other side. He realized he was looking at himself.

There he stood, staff in hand, somehow smaller, hunched. He had left her, forced her to go through all of this. It was his fault that she had been made to go through all of this.

Ruk, the digger who had made her suffer. Who had possessed her. His fists pulled in, tight, gripping against something that wasn’t there. He realized that his palms began to hurt, and he looked down to see that he had dug red marks into them. It would not happen again. He had risked the lives of others to get her out of there.

It occurred to him in a flash that Fewald was protecting her, risking himself. A twisting pang of guilt coursed through his chest. Those people, who had risked themselves for people they didn’t know, were in danger because of him, and Jestea. He shrank further into shadow. Telkas wished that he could instantly vanish, taking all of them with him, out of this dark place. Anxious, he listened intently, trying to make out the Jordanus’s words.

“We have come together in this difficult time to right the wrongs of the past. We have here a misappropriation of goods taken from these invaders, and we have watched those citizens who were unfortunate enough to have taken this false gift from these upper worlders. The truth is that the people are sick. Sick from the foods you have given to

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them.” His long thin finger extended, clawing at the air, pointing towards the Jahe, a weapon.

Fewald stepped forward, a hunter at his arm. “This food is a gift to your people. It is harmless, and seeing the hungry, thin faces about us, it seems very much needed. I ask you to produce these sick people, to show us what exactly has happened? We will gladly eat some of the food from our wagons, to show you that it is harmless. Unless of course it has been changed since we brought it.”

A silence fell over the people, the murmuring died in their throats. Telkas’s eyes were on Jestea. She stood in the middle of the guarded group, withdrawn into his cloak.

The Jordanus spoke. “You suggest we would poison you? We have no need to do that when we could easily kill you now.”

Fewald nodded. “You could easily kill us here. But then you would have the Jahe outside to answer to. There is little time now, and you must decide. The time draws near when they will come here to find out what has happened. We have not poisoned this food. They know this, and if we appear poisoned, then it will only be your doing. They will not stand by for that to happen. Do you want bloodshed, Jordanus? We have come here peacefully.”

The Jordanus raised his palm. “You will not speak here now. We will not produce the sickened to be harassed more by your people. Your spies are undoubtedly among us, waiting to take advantage of the hard times which have fallen on Silas. We do not need your twisted offers of help. We do not need you here.”

A roar of assent burst from the crowd. Through the apertures in the ceiling, the rays of the sun began to shine, falling and illuminating the crowd. The light further

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highlighted the expressions of the people, some of them with fists raised in the air, some with anger in their eyes, directing their disgust and terror at the foreigners.

Telkas wondered if that hate that he saw reflected in those faces was really all just for the strangers. It seemed hard to believe that they could feel that way in so short a time towards them. But Telkas had seen firsthand the power of the crowd. It made people do things they never would alone. That was the power that The Jordanus relied on.

He was continuing his traditional tirade, pouring blame on the Jahe, explaining to the people that they weren’t to listen to these men of the outer world. “Your brothers of the burning world will be coming soon, and we demand that you leave and never return to this place.”

At this, one of the younger diggers entered the cavern and moved through the crowd, towards the center. The Jordanus saw him, and paused his speech for a moment.

The younger man pushed roughly through the masses of people, reaching The Jordanus’s side in a minute. The old man bent down and listened as he whispered something into his ear. After listening, his eyes closed, and the elder breathed in a deep sigh.

“People of Silas, I have…terrible news. It seems that we did indeed become the victims of these men and their machinations. I have just learned that some of the people who were fed by these monsters have died.”

The cries of anguish from a few families, perhaps those who knew that their loved ones had been among those kept behind, filled the ears of everyone in the room. Looks of deep hatred, more focused poured from the people as their gaze shifted from The

Jordanus to the Jahe. Fewald seemed very confused, and just as angry. Jestea, hidden under the hood, was a mystery.

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As the moans and curses of the crowd grew, they began to move towards the

prisoners, sweeping around the feet of The Jordanus and his diggers, whipping about the

edges of his clothing and cloak. He stood there like a boulder in a fast moving stream,

keeping silent, watching them move to the group in front of him.

A clear voice cried out, staggering them and interrupting the momentum. It was

Fewald.

“You lie!”

Telkas blinked. Fewald was not prone to outbursts, but Telkas saw him now,

struggling against the Hunter’s grip, cursing and straining towards the Jordanus.

“We bring you an offering of peace. This was nothing to do with the reasons

we’ve come here. You all are fools! We only offer help.”

The Jordanus yelled, staying the progress of the crowd. “Hold, people. There is more to this than what we have seen now. It is possible that this leader of the upper world did not want to cause harm. But how can he say that none of his men would have caused pain. There is much hatred in our past. Can he move the hands of all his men, and watch them with unsleeping eyes?”

Fewald paused, letting the bonds on his hands grow slack. Even Telkas had to think twice. In the first moments, all he could assume was that The Elders had poisoned their own people. But there were some in Valdea that might have done just this. Telkas thought of Greth.

Fewald shook his head. “I cannot know all of them. You speak the truth. But this mission was for peace. I put my life on it.”

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The Jordanus raised his eyebrows. “Do you? We shall see. Your friends approach the front entrance, as was agreed. They bring wagons with them. Will you leave them and never return to our lands? There has been enough pain here and we don’t wish you to be a part of this world, for good or ill. Do you agree?”

Fewald said nothing. Telkas thought to himself. Why didn’t the Jordanus ask him to eat the food? That would have proved Fewald’s innocence at the least. Food from a random crate, taken willingly would have solved that problem. And during the whole thing, Telkas would watch Greth closely, to see if he betrayed himself, or any other for that matter.

The Jordanus continued. “If you will not speak, we will be forced to take some actions.”

Some of the people cried out. “Kill them!” “We want revenge!”

The Jordanus raised his hand to quiet them. “We do not want war, and these men have done enough. If we exact justice then it will be done on our terms. When their caravan gets here, we will not be caught in bloodshed. They will be made known of the treachery and we will exact our vengeance without a battle.”

Telkas leaned against the wall, arms crossed. It didn’t make sense. Unless…

Telkas scratched his ear. Unless The Jordanus had no intention of proving if Fewald had caused the problem. That made the most logical sense, and it would mean that he was only trying to further his agenda of separation and fear. But did that mean that someone from Silas poisoned them, or one of the Jahe? There was only one way to know for sure.

Looking at the body. The Jahe used different poisons than the Silaseans. If it was the work of Valdea, there would be signs. If they were even truly dead. But he had absolutely

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no idea where they were, and also the only person who could possibly corroborate the story based off of living with both groups of people was him. Either way, not possible.

Telkas leaned further into the shadow of the doorway. What could he do? He began to fidget with the gears of his leg brace. He saw Fewald, and the others, the pain in their faces, anger. And, something new in his leader that startled, and then began to terrify him. Fewald’s expression was seething with hate. In all of the people he had known, Telkas would not have expected it to come from him. And it was his fault that

Fewald had been put in this situation. It was. Telkas ran his hand through his hair, and overcame a brief impulse to try and rip it out.

There was a pause in the murmuring, and a bright glare briefly flushed into the room. Someone had parted the opening from its cloth covering, and perhaps a dozen figures walked into the room. The unmistakable stooped form of Greth stepped through the doorway, glaring at the people surrounding him.

There were many things going through Telkas’s mind but all he could do as watch as the exchange went between them. All the important people of his life were there. All

Telkas could do was watch as the events he had helped to set into motion played out.

Greth spoke first. “Underworlders, we have returned as asked for our kin, one day—or moon—from when I was taken. What is the situation here?”

The Jordanus replied. “It seems we have found the treachery you and your people have prepared for us. The food you were planning to leave as a gift has left its mark on some of our honest workers.”

The people cried out. “Death!” “Revenge!”

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Greth jerked a finger at the old man. “You are a liar. We will not accept this as a truth. None of our group would do such a thing.”

Telkas looked to Fewald, who was staring intently at Greth with an expression he had never before seen. It seemed blank at first, but although he was far away he thought he saw a strange sort of tension in the gaze.

Fewald threw back his hood and spoke. “I do not know what became of your people, but there is no intentional hurt behind our mission. We come in peace, and wish to leave as such. The goods we have are yours to take, whether or not you trust our intentions. But let our people go or there will be swift response.” He bowed slightly to

The Jordanus with diplomatic air, although Telkas saw his fists whitened with clenching fingers. “You don’t want a mission of peace to come to irreparable blows?”

The Jordanus scratched his chin with boney finger. “I wish for no war. We are a people beset with challenges, but we ask for no help, especially from those who have killed the ones we love. You will leave here, and never return under pains of death.”

A young Silasean hunter, who was guarding Fewald and the others, grabbed a hold of one of Fewald’s party. “We can’t let them go. They killed my brother with that terrible poison!” He threw the Jahe onto the ground, knocking the wind out of him and pushing the small form of Jestea against her armed guard.

Her hood fell back.

A roar of rage escaped Ruk’s mouth. “Jestea, what are you doing with those dirty wide-eyes!” He plowed through the crowd, practically throwing people out of his way.

Jestea shrank away in fear. “I—I don’t know what to say…”

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Ruk began to turn bright red, his blood pumping into his face. His hand went to her throat, and Jestea sucked in a breath that ended in a pitiful gasp.

Fewald twisted his arm around Ruk’s shoulder, which was much shorter than his own, and twisted to relieve the pressure on her windpipe.

Greth threaded an arrow.

The Silasean hunters began looking for the cause of the commotion, some drawing their Hakki hunting blades, others putting tighter grips on the prisoners.

The Jordanus lifted his hands, trying to quiet the shouting crowd, but his voice was lost in the angry shouts of the people surrounding the dais like a sea. A hunter put his knife around Fewald’s neck, trying to find a place to threaten him.

Finally, a shrill voice cut through the madness. “Stop, people.” It was The

Jordanus. “What is the meaning of this? Who is this girl Ruk, and why do you make such a disturbance?”

Slowly the Hunter released Fewald, who released his hold in turn on Ruk’s shoulder. Greth did not drop his arm, and two hunters squared off in stalemate with every member of Greth’s party.

Ruk spat into the earth. “This is my wife. The treacherous woman allowed herself to be taken by their wily ways. Look how she wears their robe. She meant to leave with them!”

The Jordanus raised his steel-gray eyebrows. “You come bearing evil gifts and now try to take our women? What else do you have in store on this peaceful mission?”

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Fewald bowed. “It was this girl’s wish to accompany us. I did not know for certain of her condition before she was allowed to come, but I assure you that this was her own will. We did nothing to stop her.”

The Jordanus sneered. “And I suppose a woman would be let go in the same situation in your city, released of her bounds?”

Fewald nodded. “If she wished.”

The Jordanus waved a hand, resting on a stone slab in front of the fire. “I have no choice but to assume that you have in some way caused this. I will not have someone kept here if they wish to cause unrest, but she is bound and cannot leave her duties. We are a strong people because we remain a single whole. And you upperworlders are not a part of that whole. You may not…” Here, the Jordanus raised from his seat, and his finger shot out accusingly at Fewald. “Take our people, trick them with gifts of food, and convince them to leave into the clutches of the firey demons of the sunlight. If someone truly wished to leave, they can, and have. But your tricks are not acceptable here. You must be punished. Blood will be paid with blood, and this scheme of yours becomes revealed Wildman. Restrain them!”

Telkas knew that there was no way he could stay where he was. An immutable force pulled him towards the two sides battling in the center of the room.

“Stop!”

The crowd drowned him out for a moment, but as he drew closer to the struggling figures, The Jordanus turned to him, and their eyes met.

From the floor of the cavern, Jestea called out through her tears for him to stay away. But he kept coming, right into the glaring stare of the elder.

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And the Jordanus stared back, eyes widened. “You.”

Telkas raised his hand. “Don’t blame these people for what’s happened. It was my doing. We came here to help you. I came here to help. She just wanted--.”

The Jordanus threw his arm outside his cloak, and with surprising strength nearly knocked over the nearest Silasean who was standing a short distance from him. “You were told to never return to Silas. Get out. Get out! Take these evil people with you. You will not upset this holy place.”

Ruk pointed a knobbly finger at Telkas. “Boy, you take my woman from me?

Never.” He coiled himself and half-leapt from the floor, jumping outward towards

Telkas’s throat. As they struggled in the dust, a sharp whistling call caught everyone’s attention.

Greth and his warriors had notched their bows, aimed and were ready to release.

Fewald threw off the guards that had been holding him. Ruk raised his hand and backed off a few steps, his face red with anger.

Fewald turned to the Jordanus. “We’re leaving. You may do what you wish with the food and goods we brought you, but we’ve done nothing in bad spirit to you or this place. Telkas was here as our guide, to better help us in communicating and preparing to come here to help you.”

The Jordanus waved his arm with a vicious swipe, half-spitting his words. “We don’t need help, fool. We need people like him to stay away. If he really wants to live out there then he can do so at his own risk. It is my job to protect the rest of the people here.

My duty. You aren’t going anywhere, boy, but your accomplices may go provided they never set foot in our lands again.”

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Fewald shook his head. “Telkas is coming with us. I’ll stake a war on it.”

The room was tense and completely silent for a moment. The Jordanus stared intently at Fewald for a moment. Telkas watched thoughts forming in his head.

After a long moment he dropped his head a little. “Know that the only thing that has saved you boy is my care for the people here. If I had my way I’d tear you to pieces. I should have never let you leave in the first place.”

Telkas stood up and brushed the dirt from his skin. He knew the terribly dangerous position they were in, but words boiled up inside him, and without a lot of thought for his own safety, Telkas spoke. “You let me leave before. All we’ve done is try to bring you a gift of food to feed our people, but all you can think is that we have come to kill or hurt other people. I’m glad I left this place. Anyone who feels the same about

Silas can come with me and live with the other Silaseans in the world above.”

The Jordanus coughed. His eyes flitted about in their sockets for a moment. “If you want to risk your life that is your own decision, but leave us alone. Get out of Silas, murderer.”

With that, cries of “murderer” called out from a few throats as before, but they were less fierce and fewer in number. Gradually, another voice from the back of the cavern distinguished itself.

“No, I won’t stand for it. No!”

Heads all around the cavern turned towards the rear tunnels which lead deeper into Silas. There was one of the hunters that Telkas had snuck past earlier. He seemed to be limping.

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The Jordanus gestured to some of the hunters to stop him, tossing his head, a look of restrained anguish plastered onto his face.

The rogue hunter was already among the people, and he cried out again. “These

wild people are not killing us. It was us! My family, my sister… all dead. It was murder.

It was their arrows, but the hands of Silas did the work. I saw it!”

At that moment two hunters reached him, putting his hands behind his back and

restraining him. After a blow to his side, he passed out and fell silent. But the damage had

been done.

People looked about, trying to discern some kind of answer. Soon the voices, the

questions, grew loud around the Jordanus. He turned back and forth, trying to call out to

the people, to get them to listen. All the while he was calling out to the hunter guards,

calling for the madman to be sent into the prison cave.

Telkas knew what had to be done. He cleared a way for himself, and leapt to the

far end of the hearth, raised above the crowd, leg clicking.

“You did this.” He stared directly into the Jordanus’s face. “You did this to your

own people.”

The Jordanus screamed. “I live for my people, to protect them from the likes of

you, monster. They are free to do as they wish, we are a free people. Free! As you were

to leave. And so you are once more. Exercise that freedom, and get your wild monsters

out with yourself. Out.”

Telkas felt a burning inside himself. He welled up with a bursting feeling in his

chest, and let words he did not know come pouring out. “If we are free, then let those

who no longer want to live in the dark leave with us. There are others living with me,

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free, above the earth in caves made of stone. We have food to eat, and make our own choices. I cannot promise an easy life, but I can promise a chance at life. If we stay here, the waters will rise, the food will vanish, and we will starve. If you dare to hope, come with us!”

The Jordanus snarled. “Be gone then, but may the fire beasts consume you if you do. When your deaths stare you in the face you will remember my warnings but it will be too late. This entire journey was their goal, to weaken us and split us apart so that we can be conquered more easily. We must stand firm together in Silas!”

One of the hunters spoke up. “You’ve got a city of your own out there?”

“Yes, I’ve built homes. We can make many more. There’s food, no fire, and good water to drink, plenty of wood, and the sky.”

Another chimed in “And others are there?”

Telkas nodded. “Survivors from some kind of attack by fire. But they are healing and doing well. If Fewald will accept us a neighbors, then I think we can do well there.”

He looked to the chief’s son.

Fewalds face was grim, and Telkas showed a moment of concern. Fewald looked at the Jordanus, who looked pale, and shaken. “Telkas, you may lead these people where you see fit. We have a lot to discuss before this day is through. I think it will balance the future of many human beings. But for now we will agree to this choice.”

The Jordanus burst out in anger. “If you leave this place, you may never return.

This betrayal is absolute. If you are not of a mind to stay here, then get out. Fools.”

Slowly, a few Silaseans moved towards the entrance, and the Jahe archers. Soon, ten, then twenty, fifty, nearly one out of every ten Silaseans it seemed gathered around

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Telkas. He had never felt so many eyes on him and been happy. But, as they gathered he

saw a flickering hope in each stare, the gaze of a people at the end.

Telklas stepped off of the Dais. He locked eyes with Greth momentarily, who still

held the arrow poised. To Telkas’s surprise, Greth nodded in recognition, slightly. Telkas

stepped over to Jestea and took her hand. “Are there any others with the strength to come

with us?”

Ruk cried out. “You won’t be going anywhere, wife of mine. Get back over here.”

Telkas gripped her tightly, and looked at her face. She avoided his eye, turning

her face down in tears. “Please don’t let him take me.”

Telkas stood up straight. “If anyone is free to go then she must come as well. As long as someone can answer for themselves, they can choose.”

Ruk spat in the dirt. “Idiot boy, can the child she carries answer for himself as well?”

Telkas felt her shudder against him, and heave into sobs as he realized what had

happened.

The Jordanus rose up to his former composure. “Yes, if she carries a child then she cannot leave. The little one must answer for himself, when he can. That is not now.”

A single tear welled up in Telkas’s eye. He forced it to dry without falling on his

cheek in the cool air flowing out of the bowels of the deep world below. He took a finger

and lifted her chin, looking into her tear streaked face. “Is it true?”

She nodded, gripping him tightly, heaving. He looked down at her. She stood

against him, returning his gaze, in a too large robe that had just fallen to her shoulders,

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revealing her smallness, her white tunic. Her hair fell in long tresses around her white

skin.

Telkas stroked her face. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why?”

She stammered. “I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want any of this to happen. I didn’t

want the little one to be here.”

Telkas looked at Ruk, then the Jordanus. The old man was smiling slightly.

Telkas began to feel sick. He knew that they would never let him take her, Ruk for pride,

and the Jordanus for control. Or was it cruelty? He seemed to enjoy watching the two of

them, surrounded by nervous Silaseans, starving, scared, and quiet.

“Jestea, let’s go. Look at these people. They have Justas much right as you to go.”

She locked with Ruk’s gaze for a long time. Then she bit her lip. “I can’t go.”

He protested but she cut him off. “Telkas, I love you with my entire being. I want

to come with you. But you know I can’t.”

He stared at her, hurt. “They don’t need another reason! You are doing the same thing as before.”

The doors shut behind them. Immediately many of the Silaseans began to cower

against the rock face. Cries of fear rent the air.

“The beasts, can anyone see them?”

“The sun will scorch us!”

Greth signaled with a wave, and the rest of the Jahe, and the empty wagons and

their teams of Ze’Dayo began the descent down the east side of the mountain. Telkas

could see the clouds of red smoke kick up as they came. Suddenly, Greth whipped around

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and scowled at the Silaseans. “Cowards. We live in the sun, and see nothing of fire monsters. Your skin makes you weak, but it will not kill you. Put up your hoods, light skins.”

Telkas stepped out. “Greth, enough.”

The grizzled face turned to him. “What do you want, boy? You nearly get us killed and then tell me what to say? I’ll kill you where you stand.”

Fewald gripped Greth by his collar. Telkas stepped back; he’d never seen the leader act in that way before. “And, Greth, I saw you when we fell into Silas, debating if you could use commotion to your advantage.”

Telkas remembered earlier, before their capture, how Greth had pointed the arrow at him.

“Telkas is to be respected in all ways. He came forward to protect us when he could have easily escaped in disguise. To protect all of us!” he shouted, raising his open hand high into the air, surveying the hundreds gathered around. He speaks for the

Silaseans to me. I call for Telkas to address us now.”

Telkas felt his heart leap in his chest. Nervous, he nevertheless opened his mouth and spoke.

“People, we are out of the grasp of this dying place at last. I walked this land before, and there were no monsters or fire, only the heat of the sun, a land we are not used to. Come with us now, and we can build a new Silas. Cover yourselves well, drink the water in plenty that the Jahe, the wildmen, bring with them. I trust there is enough.”

Fewald nodded. “There is. We have some stored in the wagons to defend against fire. You are welcome to it.”

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Telkas bowed to him. “So, we have enough for the journey, and when we arrive we will build a new Silas. We have the protection of the Jahe, and our own hunters.”

One of those hunters spoke up. “How can we make it across the burning wastes?”

Telkas shrugged. “I am crippled, but I walked it alone, without water, and was able to make it to the lands we now journey to. It was hard going, but if I can do that, together we will have an easy time of it. If someone gets too warm they will ride in the wagons.”

For a moment there was silence. Then, a grizzled man much larger than most

Silaseans pushed past many of the people. “Look there”

He pointed down the narrow ravine that wound its way from Silas. The group had walked nearly to the opening of the vast plains outside the underground city.

“I am called Kaldor.” A murmur of acknowledgement went up from many of the underworlders gathered there. He wore a dark earthy tunic and the leather breeches and armor of a hunter. His bow was nearly as tall as he was, simply made but thick, and likely extremely powerful. “I’ve led our hunters for many seasons now. Look there, out to the burning wastes!”

Telkas turned, and recoiled. The land seemed to be an image from a distant nightmare. He remembered seeing it before, somewhere. Then he remembered his journey through the swamps and their poisonous fumes. He remembered his visions there.

Spread out on the plain immediately in front of Silas was the destruction that

Rokus had described. Massive craters of ash and discarded bones spread over the earth

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like diseased blisters. Huge steaks raised out of the scorched dust, hefting impaled men,

women and children, their corpses burnt black, covered in flies.

Kaldor gestured to the scene. “I have no reason to stay in Silas. The food leaves

us and the days to reach new supplies stretch longer with each trip. But know that I have

watched balls of fire erupt from the ground once before, like this. I’ve returned to see the

dead impaled by whatever force causes it. This youth has no knowledge of such things.

He’s an outcast, and a fool. He steals the wives of other men. We should leave him and

find our own way.”

Telkas threw off his hood. His long hair fell about his face. “You say I don’t know of this? A good friend of mine fought through the heat and burning death of this same thing to reach our homes. I’ve wandered these lands and they are full of swamps and deserts and death. It’s up to you whether you join us or not, but at the end of my road is safety and a lush land to explore, and allies.” Here he shifted his glance to Fewald, who folded his arms but nodded once.

Keldor smirked. “How do we know anything about these people? And how can

we trust you?”

Telkas shrugged. “You can’t. I offer only what I promise. It’s your choice if you

want to be a part of it. But know that if you settle and step into our camp, you’ll do it

under the rules we set. The Jahe are friends, and will never be harmed, and you’ll do

everything for the good of the people.”

“And what do we get in return?”

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Telkas glared at him. “You get to be part of a new world. With food, homes, families, and the chance to build a new city.”

The man glowered at Telkas, hands on the top of his bow. Telkas continued.

“What do you all say? Are you able to come, now, with us? Will you hunt, and build, and live? If anyone wants to go their own way now, then go. You are not kept with us like in

Silas. Who is with us?”

Slowly, the people straightened from their leaning or slouched positions. A young hunter stepped forward, offering his sword handle. Telkas placed his hand on it.

“To our new home then.”

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CHAPTER XVII

LEADERSHIP

Telkas rode on the empty wagon as the sun rose gradually higher. They were making their way across the huge plain that he had travelled the first time he set out from the underworld, which seemed an eternity.

All around him, an odd assortment of people walked, or rode. He looked at them, for the first time, examining what sorts of people had come along with them. There were families, hunters, diggers. Though there were more hunters than usual, the population was strangely well represented in this procession. Many of them were younger.

A young boy sat next to an older male relative against the side of the cart, his legs

swinging off the edge of the open back of the vehicle. Telkas noticed that the boy kept

staring at him off and on. His bright eyes would be hidden for a moment under the hood

of his cloak, and then peer out again with curiosity.

Telkas smiled. “Hello there little guy.” The boy’s father (Telkas assumed) had

fallen asleep.

The little boy waved at him, slow, opening and closing his hand.

Telkas waved back. “Are you hot?”

The boy nodded.

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Telkas moved slightly closer, tucking the cloak over the boy’s arms. “You might

be hot, I know it’s terrible and uncomfortable when you are used to the caves. I walked

this whole way once, you know. Didn’t even know where I was going.”

The eyes grew wide. “How did you do that?”

Telkas shrugged. “It was only to keep walking I guess. Not much else. But that

sun will burn your skin, so be sure to keep covered until you are more used to it, okay?

And make sure to close your eyes some of the time, to give them a rest from the light. I

learned that the hard way.”

The boy nodded, retreating deeper into the cloak. Soon his small voice cut the air

again. “Where are we going, Wildman?”

Telkas looked over at him, considering. “A place where we can be happier. Where

we can build caves and have plenty to eat. You’d like that wouldn’t you? This isn’t such

a bad place to be, is it little guy?”

The boy rolled his head to one side, leaning his chin on his knees brought up to

his chest. “It’s good. I like the light.”

Telkas was a bit taken aback. “You mean, you like the bright light? It doesn’t

bother you?”

The boy considered. “It hurts my eyes. But I like it anyway.”

The wagons slowed and the halted after the sun dipped lower in the sky. Some of the Jahe stopped and began to gather wood for fires, some to water the harnessed animals. They broke out their saved rations, and after Greth personally smelled and examined them to be sure they were safe, they were distributed to the people.

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The night was clear. Telkas sat on an old dry log, a ways away from the circles of people eating. He ran his hands through his hair. There were so many. How was he ever going to take care of them all? His hands moved to the sides of his head, and he stared at the ground, supporting them with elbows on knees.

Two leather shoes appeared in his vision against the dusty rocky ground. Looking up, he saw Fewald staring down at him.

He gestured out into the wilderness. “We will talk.”

Telkas rose, brace clicking. Fewald walked a little ahead of him, blue tunic stained and covered in dirt from his ordeal in Silas. “I’m not the great man with words that my father is, Telkas. When I look out onto this plain, I see dust, I see the darkening sky. I see the distant sea. I know that our homes are within a few days march. I see the things about the world in detail, but I can’t spin beauty into them. I know my place as my father’s son. I know my duty to my own people.”

Telkas moved beside him, and together they walked out into the desolation, the wide flat land that lead down to the distant forest and the dark water beyond. Telkas felt the occasional rough pebble catch between his footstep and the hard packed earth.

“Fewald, you are the closest friend I have. You saved my life and took me into your world, cared for me, and with your father’s direction, allowed me to follow my small dream of stoneworking. I owe you everything I have in life. For seeking out Jestea and endangering all of you I can never repay you.”

Fewald was silent for some time as they walked further into the wild, stopping to examine the giant clusters of stars and swirling patterns in the night sky. “Telkas, in the beginning they say that these stars were born from the moment the eternal one first spoke.

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None of us can know why IT did this.” He squatted, feeling the earth beneath his hand.

“Far be it from me to judge the works of the Eternal. I believe that just as these stars were

made, so you too were made, and myself, and set here in the place we need to be. Every

man knows his heart deep down, and it is only that man that can find the courage within

himself to follow it. The ancients followed these same great rules that we do.”

Telkas stood for a moment, arms crossed, leather tunic blowing in the cool breeze washing down over the flatlands with the call of night. “I don’t know my purpose on this world, Fewald. All I see is that these people need a home, and a way to go. If I can help them do that, I will. I went down into Silas without that, but I see now that I can never put into danger you or the people over myself again.”

Fewald turned to him and caught his eye for the first time. His stare was piercing.

“You tried to save the one you love. You risked yourself and all of us to do so. I can’t say

I would do differently if it were my own wife trapped beneath the earth. I cannot fault

you for that, Telkas, because anyone who truly loves would do the same.”

Telkas nodded. “Even so. I won’t do that again. I can help these people find their

way, and that will be my goal from this day onward. Nothing else.”

Fewald stood. “Telkas, you must do more than that. You need to lead these

people. I cannot promise you our aid at all times. This is your destiny as I can see it. It’s

your choice to accept it, or not. But if you do not lead these people, I don’t think there is

anyone who can. Look at that fellow with the long bow. You really want him to be in

charge of everyone?”

Telkas cocked an eyebrow. A solid point.

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Fewald went on. “Why else were you fated to survive, to learn our ways? Why else did events work out the way they did? Who can say why my father sent us here with this purpose to begin with? I guess he may have seen much more than he explained to us.

That is the lonely responsibility of being a chief, to have the vision of the eagle.”

The two men stood, facing out into the dark as campfire glow flickered behind them. Telkas scuffed the dirt underfoot. “I didn’t put everyone else first though. How can

I lead? I was worried about one person only.”

“I say this to you as a friend, Telkas. She was there to draw you there. You dreaded returning there, but you came, both to help your people and to find her. You are here now with the people you came to help feed. See to them. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done before now because all you can change is what happens now, and ever onward. Be who you want to be now.”

Telkas couldn’t help a small smile. Fewald said he could not master words like his father, but here he was, working magic with them.

“Fewald, I won’t forget what you did for me, or for these people.”

“I won’t forget you either my friend. You must tend to these people. And I must get something to eat. Come.”

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CHAPTER XVIII

NEIGHBORS

Their return to Valdea was marked by a celebration. Many of the Jahe came out of the great carved gates, swirling and surrounding the wagons. When they saw that there were hundreds of Silaseans trailing after, the singing grew quiet and the two peoples looked upon one another. Telkas and Fewald stepped forward to greet Loka.

The old man surveyed the people in front of him. “Telkas, I send you and my son to dispose of food and aid for nothing, and return with those it was meant to feed.” He grinned at them.

Briefly Telkas and Fewald explained what had happened.

“So, now the young one has charges to care for?”

Telkas bowed. “Chief Loka, I bring these refugees of Silas here to start a new city. We will stay out of your way, build our own place on the ground you granted to me last season, and will only hunt and fish east of that land.” Telkas peered up from his bow for the old man’s response.

He rubbed his graying beard with his right hand. “Telkas, you seem to have thought this out a great deal in advance. Does this man speak for Silas?” Loka put his hand on Telkas’s shoulder.

A voice from behind the chief answered. “I believe that he should.” Every eye turned as Rokus walked through the crowd. Telkas took us in, gave us shelter, and 235

showed us that these wild men are not so wild, after all. In fact they are wonderful and

very helpful.” He turned and gave a courteous bow to Jayka, who had evidently gone to

fetch him when news of their arrival came. “I say that he should.”

Murmuring erupted from the people. One Silasean man with a little girl perched

on his shoulder cupped his hand to his mouth. “Let him speak for us. He’s lead us this

far, and has kept his promise.”

Many voices shouted in agreement or opposition.

“He’s just a boy.”

“He fought the fire monsters and arrived here alone!”

“He can’t make us a home like Silas?”

Over all of it, Jayka strode into the middle of the gathering and held up her hands.

With a sound Telkas felt was nearly beyond her body to make, she yelled for silence.

“You say he cannot build caves? Come and see for yourselves, doubters.”

Soon, the greater part of Valdea and the Silasean refugees were gathered around

the alcove under the cliffs, where the two stone arch-domes were complete. Rokus and

Neeha had carved out the sand and prepared the rest while they had been away. They

stood, free, white stone gleaming in the sunlight. They appeared as the intersections of

two tunnels, with a raised center and four small wings. They could easily house several

families each. Rokus had even fashioned a wooden door and windows of stretched skin.

Smoke wafted from the rear one.

Rokus smiled sheepishly. “I couldn’t figure out a vent hole for the smoke, so it had to go out the back window.”

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Telkas hugged him. “It looks as I pictured them in my mind. This is wonderful.”

In amazement, both Jahe and Silasean crowded around the two structures. The stone was cut so well that leaves could not be shoved in between.

“Surely,” an older Silasean woman said, “Nothing like this has been built since the ancients worked. And the wild people can make more of these?”

Loka stepped forward, hands together under his cloak. “No, indeed. Only Telkas

can do this. He has been busy with a few like Jayka here to help him. I’m sure that with

many of you helping this could be made in much less than one moon cycle.” Her grinned

at Telkas.

“Truthfully?” The old woman piped.

“Yes.” Telkas said. He stepped onto a leftover stone block in view of the people

surrounding the buildings, and stretching into the forest beyond. “I will be happy to teach

you, to help us build many of these into a city. I give my word that I will not rest until the

new Silas is safe, and warm.”

Over at the edge of the forest, Kaldor and more than twenty hunters lounged,

eyeing the exchange. One of the hunters leaned over to the man holding the long bow.

“How do you think this is going to work out? They seem like they would be nice

and comfortable.”

Keldor nodded, hand to chin. “Maybe. We will see. In the meantime, see that we

know the area. Learn the details of the land. We can provide food, but we can’t let down

our guard.”

The younger hunter looked surprised. “What for? The wild men?”

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“We just need to know the area for when the time comes. You be about scouting.

If you see a wild man, leave him be, for now.”

Without a sound, the youth was gone into the brush.

###

“Hold, it! Grab that line. Pull now.” One of the young hunters was perched atop one of the new dwellings, sliding the topstone into place. They had been working for nearly a moon cycle now, and although the diggers were much more adapted to making the stone buildings than the lithe hunters, this one had picked it up fast. And, he was enthusiastic.

Telkas walked up and down the line of some twenty-odd buildings. New Silas, as they had begun to call it, had grown quite a bit from a collection of tents and campfires to a compound, nestled into the base of the overhanging cliff, surrounded by a forming timber wall.

It was beginning to look like he could keep his promise. He began to daydream a bit, imagining what the roads could look like, when he was jolted by a strong tap from behind. He whirled.

The bow withdrew before he could get a grip on it. “You’re getting faster.” A grinning Jakya stood behind him. He swung at her, but she swiveled out of his reach. “I haven’t seen you at Valdea for many days now, boy. How is it here?”

Telkas smiled, and gripped her forearms in his. “I’ve missed you all. But there is a lot to be done here.”

Smiling, she tilted her head slightly at him. “You’re a regular chief aren’t you?”

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He lost his grin, looking over his shoulder, he whispered to her. “I wouldn’t be

anything at all if some had their way.” He gestured over beyond the wall of pikes. There,

around a mound with a fire at its base, a group of Silasean hunters sat, eating the meats off of a fresh kill and laughing. At the highest point sat an older man, a huge bow at his back. He caught Telkas’s eye, and licked his teeth. His long, graying hair hung heavily on his shoulders. He bore a strange blade in a sling, point strapped near his left shoulder, the long blade curving slightly until it’s handle protruded close to his right hip.

Jayka considered him. “Looks like some I’ve killed.”

Telkas looked at her intensely.

“Sorry. I can’t just forget some things though, Telkas. Not all these people are here to be a part of this new world you want to build.”

He eyed her in mock distrust. “Maybe, but we have to build this into a real community. These people need to have stability. We can’t have that if they are afraid of their neighbors. I need the Jahe to make them feel comfortable.”

Jayka shook her head. “You can’t force people to get along. Some of these underworlders have killed people close to us. They probably will again.”

Telkas gripped her arm. “Not if I have anything to say about it. Rokus and the others are trying to restart the priesthood. There’s a good feeling in the air. I think that once these people see that the ways of our culture are being remade they will fall in line.

They have already done a good job of feeding the community, and they agreed to hunt outside your territory. Please give this a chance.” He released her.

She shook it off. “Not all people are worthy of being redeemed, Telkas.” She stormed off.

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“Everything going well, sir?”

Telkas turned to find the weathered face of Rokus peering inquisitively at him. He

wore a long brown leather tunic, simpler than Telkas wore, but fashioned after his. To his

embarrassment, many of the Silaseans had taken to wearing them, and wearing their hair

loose, and other things that copied his manner of dress.

Telkas shrugged, twisting into an uncomfortable smile at the priest. “Jayka usually has to have the last word, but I think she will come around.”

“She is…strong, for her type.”

Telkas put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’m not much for being called sir, you know, but how they live is their choice. We’ve all got to figure out a way to work and live together or else when trouble comes we will be weak. What the Jordanus said was true, in a way. I’m worried that he will send out warriors to attack us.”

Rokus nodded slowly. “It is possible. But what would he have to gain by doing that? We have food, shelter, but we are so far away that they would need to be gone for days in order to really hit us with any force. Between the wildmen and our hunters, I think we are safe for now. And don’t forget the fire beasts. They nearly killed me.”

Later, the sun drew lower and the Silaseans began to lower their hoods, roll up sleeves and gather around the huge wooden tubs into which the Silasean women had poured their traditional fish stew, albeit much thicker now that they had been used to in recent years.

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Telkas had decided early on to begin new traditions with the start of a new city, and had petitioned Rokus and the others he had picked to become the new priests to create a ritual of eating and telling of stories.

At first it was people telling their tales of escape, or of hunger and death from the old Silas. Men and women would stand up amidst the beating drums, and tell their tale.

Then, as the people became bolder with good food and confident with the creation of their settlement, more began to tell tales, back to the oldest days anyone could remember, of the digging of tunnels that were decades old, of old wars with Valdea, and victories over the mountain.

They sat in the concentric half circles of stone domes, many gathered in the center of the circle, where a large open space lay, drummers, priests and musicians playing wind instruments. Telkas imagined eventually it would be lined with stone, perhaps even glowstone if they could find another source other than the small pieces here and there they had unearthed.

He tried to sit apart from the people, for an odd ritual had begun that unnerved him: people would touch the hem of his cloak as he passed, bow low, almost in reverence like that given to the Jordanus. Telkas hated it.

He walked over past the light of the fires at the center of the newborn village to the darker areas, nearer to the wall. As he leaned against the timber wall, he took a moment to look around at what they had created.

The night had fully enveloped the stone city. The stars twinkled above, and the moon, nearly as big as it became in its cycle, lit the several dozen finished and half- finished domes, lighting them up like the sun bleached forgotten bones of a creature in

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the earth. The fires danced, distorting and revealing the features of the people, some

standing, swaying to the drum beat. He saw them releasing years of pain. The deep

thudding felt to him like the beat of a heart, strong.

“Excuse me, Sir. The Lady Jayka wished to see you.”

Telkas turned to find a young man, perhaps his age, with a freshly made spear, standing next to the tall huntress. Her hair was freshly woven into the tight strands she liked to wear. She was frowning, arms crossed, annoyed with the young guard.

“I found her sir, she was coming over the fence.”

She grumbled at him. “I would have been fine but the little sneak was too short. I almost dropped onto his spear.” She flicked it with her hand, and he almost fell over trying to return it to his grip.

Telkas laughed at her. “It’s no problem. Thank you for doing your duty. You can return to the post now.” The young man bowed and left, parting a sidelong glance at

Jayka.

Telkas put a hand on her shoulder. “You know you can come in through the gate anytime you please.”

She brushed him off. “I don’t need any gate.”

He considered. “True, but you do tend to scare a lot of the guards. They are only trying to be useful.”

She shot him a look. “Because the hunters won’t guard it?”

Telkas chose to change the subject. “What did you want to see me for anyway?”

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She shrugged. “Just to check on you. You’re spending all of your time with these cave dwellers, it has to be awfully boring.” She grinned. He saw the moon peering over her left shoulder, lightening her dark skin about the edges where it overlapped the night sky.

Telkas began to walk along the wall and they fell in together. “Jayka, you and

Fewald are my closest companions. I don’t know what I would do without you around. I feel out of place. I can build buildings, but building the city, it’s so much. There’s so much I don’t know.”

She looked over at him. “Do you think I plan things that are not my job? I hunt, I help when I am bid to help. I don’t pretend to know the ways of the gods, or of carving, or other things. You have to do the same.”

Telkas met her gaze. “Then who will do it? I can’t hunt like you, but I am not sure if I can trust the hunters. So what’s to be done?”

She pulled back her shoulders a little. “Well I suppose we could make some more hunters. It would take some time, but if you don’t have people to do something, you can always teach them. Remember Rokus? He knew some legends, but not all of them. He talked with some of the story tellers from Valdea, and found that a lot of our stories are similar. So he made new ones. You asked him to do all of that, and now look at the village chanting.”

They had reached the cliff. Looking along it, they could see the side of the center of the semi-circular village, the drums, firelight, and people.

Telkas allowed himself a half smile. “I suppose you are right. But first we need to get one of our hunters to teach new Silaseans the art.”

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Jestea suddenly grew quiet. She placed her hands behind her back.

Telkas pulled his head back ever so slightly. He had never seen her look like that.

Was she worried? Could it be embarrassment?

She cleared her throat. “I could help, if you wanted. I mean our ways are superior to fighting in tunnels, at any rate. How can an underworlder hunt beasts in the open as well as us?”

Telkas bowed to her. “I would love to have you teach us. Would you like to pick some recruits?”

She nodded, stepping confidently back to the walk along the wall as if she had never acted that way. “First thing in the morning we can work it out. I’ll have to ask

Fewald, but I’m sure he would be happy. After all, it helps that mushy cross city love that you two talk about so much. Make your Gods happy.”

Telkas’s smile faded a little. “I don’t know our gods anymore. I think there is a force there, somewhere, that moves things unseen.” He pulled his long hair behind his ear. “I have to accept that all that’s happened, the people that have died over the years, my parents, yours, and all those burning out in the fields, have all lead to this place being built. I don’t know if it’s Gods, or another force. But I believe we are here for a reason.

You and I, and Fewald, and our two peoples, we are meant to be prepared for something.”

Jayka slowed, put her hand on the bare skin of her thigh. “Telkas, don’t start all that deep talking now. We should take each day as it comes--.”

“No.” His abrupt reply surprised her, and she fell silent. “Jayka, I know that something is happening. I can’t tell for sure what it is.” He leaned against the wall,

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throwing his hands up ninety degrees from his side, resting the backs of his hands against the timber, even with his shoulders, and stretched. He let them fall. “This land is changing. I know that the sea is seeping into the lowest parts of Silas. The rivers run with salt now. Earlier today, a girl complained that a stream running to the ocean had grown salty upstream where it had once been fresh, just when we first came here.”

Jayka frowned. “What does it mean?”

Telkas looked up at the sky. “I don’t know. But I want to find a place we can build a sanctuary. Higher than the cities here. The ancients used the protection of the earth from the tempest, but if the ground is invaded by the sea, the only place to go is up.”

She nodded. “But where Telkas? What can you possibly mean?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. There is time. But we can rely on one another. I think we’ve been brought together for a reason, and we will need every man, woman and child when that reason reveals itself.” For now, we’ll plan out your new archers. And we will finish this city. And together we will figure out what comes next.”

She lowered her head, a grin exploding across her deep and beautiful face. She placed an arm across his shoulders. “You never give up, I’ll give you that. We’ll start in the morning.”

Before he could realize it, she leapt up the wall, twice his height, and vanished.

Out in the distant front gate of the wall, a young man’s voice called “Hey, who is that?”

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CHAPTER XIX

WARRIORS

Early the next day, Jayka arrived, and Telkas called together an assembly of the guards just outside of town in the clearing before the forest. He saw before him a hodgepodge of men, menders and apprentices, just about every profession that he could think of besides an actual archer or hunter. They stood at attention, holding their fresh cut spears and trying to look disciplined.

Telkas raised both hands in the air, palms out, in the Silasean fashion. “Hello to you all. I’ve called a meeting because we are seeking new recruits to be trained as the first regular archer group.”

The excitement among the men was palpable. Feet tapped and grins could barely be concealed.

Telkas went on, walking along the line of some thirty men. “For the moment, we will await the others to arrive.”

Jayka shot him a confused glance.

He smirked. “You will see.”

After a few moments, a group emerged from the gates. In the silence they all could hear the chop of stone axes on trees in the forest, carving new lumber for the unfinished wall to the west side of town.

They were women. 246

A young recruit asked aloud, “Why are those ladder women coming towards us?”

Jayka looked even more perplexed than before.

Telkas took her aside. “Silas is strewn with long ladders spanning gaps and leading up to the homes all along the top of the great wall. These women bring goods and news all along them, up and down the tunnels and through even the air ducts if needed.

They are very fast and strong, and, I think would make excellent soldiers. They’ve never been given the chance before, but maybe someone like you would help them work up the nerve. Plus it would nearly double the size of our guards.”

Jayka put a hand on her hip. “Well, Telkas. I wouldn’t have expected this from you.”

He nodded his head to her. “You’ve taught me a lot of things too, you know.”

The women were soon gathered near, and with a request from Telkas they fell into line. One of the men protested. “What are they doing here?”

Jayka answered him with a snap. “Fighting if they have the skin for it. You women wish to learn the bow? Want to defend us from enemies with sword?”

After a moment of glancing to and fro, a short sinewy woman in a white tunic and leather jerkin raised her hand. “I do.”

Telkas’s eyes opened wide. It was Neeha. She had healed nicely, and now stood at the front of the group.

He bowed to her. “It is good to see you well, Neeha. I didn’t know you were a ladder runner.”

She returned his bow, flipping her long chestnut hair back upon rising. “I didn’t have a lot to say when I last saw you. I’ve got scars, but I’m otherwise ready. This won’t

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stop me from protecting us, I promise.” She turned out her leg to show a series of jagged scars and burn marks permanently covering it.

Objections again rose from some of the older men. Jayka turned on them in a sudden fury. “These women are strong, and they can die just as well from an enemy knife as can you. They have the right to put themselves on the line as well.”

A few turned to Telkas with appealing eyes.

He shook his head. “There are many women who I would gladly trust with my life, none more than Jayka. If we come under a common threat, we can all fight together to win. This is not Silas, this is something more. Everyone will be equal here.” His thoughts drifted to Jestea.

Jayka snapped her bowstring. “Now, who among you wants to be a part of this company?”

The first one to shoot up his hand was a young man. Telkas recognized him as the man who had “discovered” Jayka the night before. All of the youngest men raised their hands. Every woman immediately raised alongside them. Slowly, the few remaining men joined the rest.

Jayka folded her arms around her bow, grinning. Then, it disappeared as she mulled something over.

Telkas looked to her, trying to discern the problem. “Jayka?”

She barked an order. “Into line!” a hurried shuffle produced a line with men, and another with women. “They need a name, Telkas.”

“What do you mean?”

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“When my father went into battle, he had a name for the archers he commanded

They were Rangers of the Shell. We have the Hunters of the Crest today, and others as well. Every group needs a name. What shall their name be?

Telkas thought.

“Well how do your hunters name their battle groups?”

“Their leader names them, usually for their first battle, or for some other reason that has drawn them together.”

Telkas bowed to her. “Well then you will have to find one for them.”

Jayka cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

Telkas rose. “Well, you said last night that I needed to rely on someone else that does things better than I can. You should lead these people. You can make them into the fiercest warriors in the whole of the land, above or below.”

She stood, staring at him. After a long moment she spoke. “Telkas, I was to train them, I—.” She took him aside. “I have never lead this many, and to teach them everything.”

Telkas met her eyes, looking directly into hers. “Jayka I need you. If Fewald agrees, this will create a group of warriors that we can all trust. Silaseans, men and women, led by the strongest woman in Valdea.”

Jayka lowered her head. When she raised it a second later, her eyes were shining.

She strode out into the front of the line.

“First off, mix yourselves up. No men and women are going to stay separated.”

There was an awkward shuffle. “Now,” Jayka said, taking a spear from one of the men. “Who knows how to throw one of these?”

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Telkas left the group quietly. He remembered that they hadn’t decided on a name.

It would come in time, he thought.

For the moment, there were many other things to be taken care of before that evening. It was the formal welcoming of the Jahe into the city, which was deemed close enough to completion to have a celebration. As Telkas walked through the forest, he heard a rustle behind him. He turned to find Greth.

“Hello boy.”

Telkas bowed, but kept his eyes on the man. “Greth. What are you doing here?”

He grunted. “Your hunters. Don’t like what they’re up to.”

Telkas was motionless, firm. “What are you talking about?”

Greth slipped around him, moving to clear view in front. “I know we have no love for each other, boy. But listen to my words.”

Telkas’s eyes narrowed. “Why should I? The last time we were in danger together, you nearly shot me with an arrow.”

He ignored the remark. “We’ve seen them slipping past Valdea, travelling back towards Silas. Think we both want them doing that?”

Telkas fell silent.

“That’s what I thought. Now I don’t know what’s going on, but adding to their ranks with these new ones isn’t a good idea.”

Telkas straightened his leather coat. “These aren’t for the hunters. They are a group of archers.”

Greth glared at him. “Why would you be needing archers for?”

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Telkas stared directly back at the weathered face. “Ask Jayka. As soon as we get

Fewald’s blessing, she’s in command.”

Greth’s eyes widened and he recoiled in surprise.

Telkas went on. “And they are being created so that a force we can both trust will be ready in case any danger should befall us. I won’t be unprepared ever again, Greth.”

Greth cleared his throat. “You mean if your Jordanus attacks us? Or,” he said with a snicker, “The fire beasts?”

Telkas let out an exclamation of rage, and grabbed the chest of Greth’s leather shirt, surprising both of them. “People that were loved by those in my village died there.

Laugh if you must, but not to my face.”

Greth snarled and pushed him away. “You just keep an eye on your bowmen.

Both groups. Or we will.”

That evening there was a great commotion; the people of New Silas were busy running this way and that, picking up leftover debris from construction, laying out hastily made tables with freshly hunted animals and picked fruits form the forest. Soon, the Jahe would arrive.

Everywhere Telkas saw people smiling, hurrying here and there they displayed an energy that amazed him. Rokus was helping to direct the moving of extra timber to the as yet unfinished timber wall on the east side of the town. Even Jayka with her new recruits was busy helping him.

At the gate Telkas caught a glimpse of Fewald, and walked over to join him. He was wearing a much longer version of his usual blue leather shirt, he was well groomed

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and flanked with some equally plumed guards. When he caught sight of Telkas they

exchanged bows.

“Ah, Telkas. I hope you’ll forgive my guards. Politics. Everyone’s coming out

dressed to the hilt.”

Telkas waved the apology away with a hand. “Oh, if there is anything I learned

being back in Silas, it’s that everything is a ceremony. But I think it will do us good to

see one another in our best.”

Fewald agreed, and they began to walk into New Silas. “It’s a mutual sign of

respect.”

Telkas nodded. “Absolutely.” He looked at his friend. Fewald’s hair was even knotted in a few very loose braids, tied with tiny seashells. “You’re early, my friend.”

Fewald placed his hands behind his back. “I was hoping to have a small amount of time to talk with my good friend.” The guards followed leisurely, not far behind.

Telkas bobbed his head in acknowledgement. “I’d like that as well.”

A young archer woman ran up to them, bowing deeply. “Telkas, sir, Lady Jayka was wondering about the tables, and how they should be brought in. She, uh, doesn’t know about such things…”

Telkas pointed over to the central square. “Rokus is seeing to those things. I

would ask him.”

She nodded, her large eyes seeming almost like amber in the sunlight. “Thank you

sir, I’ll find him.” She skipped off in the direction he indicated.

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They stepped around an old woman who was sweeping the dirt pathways with a handful of tall brush. Fewald broke the silence. “Telkas it seems like your people have already begun to change and adapt to the upper world.”

“Oh, what have you seen?”

Fewald went on. “I noticed that young woman that you just spoke with. Her eyes were much more colorful. Many of the Silaseans are so changed after being in the sun.”

Telkas moved to catch up with him as they passed a set of sparkling white domes on either side of them. “I think you’re right. A lot of things are going to change from the way they were.”

Fewald turned his head, studying Telkas. “You mean the women archers you recruited earlier today?”

Telkas considered, pausing. “That’s one, yes. Did Jayka speak with you about them?”

Fewald nodded. “She seemed excited to lead them.”

Telkas laughed. “When does she seem excited about anything, at least on the surface?”

Fewald allowed himself a smile. “You have a point. But she talked quite a bit about them, and the men, and seemed to want my approval very much.”

Telkas looked over at him. They had walked from the main gate down the widest road, to the center of the town. There were preparations being made for a huge fire, wood was piled high, and a space in the very center had been paved with fresh stones split off of the overhanging cliff face. Rokus stood at the middle of it all, directing tables, which in the Silasean fashion did not require chairs, but were rather used seated on the floor.

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They stopped.

“Fewald, what did you say to her?”

Fewald took a moment to respond, as if he were interrupted from some reverie.

“Why, of course I told her she had my support. Loka gave me the responsibility of dealings with our new neighbors, and I can think of little else that would bring all of us together. I even thought that perhaps some of your people could teach us of digging, or of some other skill, like cutting stone or using rock, or maybe about those underground storage areas for keeping food cool.”

Telkas raised a finger. “Actually, there was something I had been thinking of doing. A great project, and we would need your help, a lot of it if I estimate properly.”

Fewald drew closer, hands together. “What kind of project is this?”

They were interrupted by Rokus, who was closely accompanied by Neeha, bearing a stout piece of timber with a hole half bored in the top. “Telkas, Telkas we are nearly out of time.”

Telkas broke into a smile. “It’s alright my friend, what is the problem here?”

Rokus was a bit out of breath. “We wanted to roast some of the game that Kaldor and his hunters caught for the feast, but unfortunately the stone drill that you made for us, the teeth have broken.”

Telkas raised the corner of his mouth in a half-grin. “Neeha, were you using it?”

She bit her lip, then nodded.

Telkas sighed. “I guess no one showed you how?”

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She brought out the stick with the drilling tip and the leather thong. “No, one

person applies pressure at the top with a rock, and the other wraps this around and pulls

back and forth on the ends.”

Telkas pursed his lips. “Yes, true, but also you need to keep the drill head straight

or the teeth break.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry sir.” She lowered her head.

He stopped her. “It’s not a problem. I have another in the workshop. Just keep it straight. They are easy to make.” She shot off with a quick bow.

Rokus spoke. “I apologize, I don’t have time to watch everyone.”

“I think this place is going to look amazing. Don’t worry about it, you’re doing a great job. In fact Fewald was complimenting us on how things have changed.”

Fewald put his hand to his stomach, one to his back and gave a much more formal bow. “Rokus, I’ve heard great things about you.”

Rokus returned it. “As have I about you. It’s nice to finally meet you personally.

All I have seen of you before was at the Chief’s home in Valdea, and of course when you helped Telkas.”

Both of the others looked at him, unsure of his meaning.

Rokus pointed, indicating the oldest of the domes. It was smaller than most of the others, and sat nearest to the cliff wall, near a small split that lead deep into the mountain.

“When Neeha and I first came here, if you remember, while we slept you finished the stone in the top. If anyone, I am honored to meet you, Fewald. More than anyone, perhaps, you have helped Telkas to build New Silas. That, and you and your chief supporting our leader through the last near two seasons.”

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Fewald acknowledged the compliment, beaming. “Telkas I think you have found a great man to help with all of this. Thank you, Rokus.”

Rokus grinned. Suddenly there was a large crash behind them. They turned to find several tables twisted in a heap, and several Silaseans clustered around rubbing bruised limbs. Rokus ran his hair through his thinning hair. “Oh, by the Gods.” He bowed hurriedly and was gone. Soon there was shouting.

Telkas wondered at them. “I suppose considering where everyone was not so long ago we are doing pretty well. We’re trading with Valdea, and building this place. And everyone’s happy.”

Fewald folded his arms. “Yes. And you must find a way to keep them happy.

Look into the future.”

Telkas shrugged. “Let’s step into my dome. I’d have your advice if I could.”

Fewald followed him.

The dome that had been set aside for Telkas was not far from the earliest ones they had made. It was right against the cliff face, about two hundred paces from the wall, and a little more than that to the center of the town, and a bit separated from the normally evenly spaced dwellings. It was also raised a little from the ground, and he could keep an eye on the carts coming from the quarry where they had been splitting more stone from the place he had found the top stones before. The door was carved and inlaid with spirals of shining shell, a gift from Fewald upon its completion some weeks earlier. To Telkas’s embarrassment the people had competed somewhat for the homes closest to his, and the portion of the town that was higher than the rest. Even here he could not eradicate prestige and a sense of status.

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The inside of the dome was a mess. Not dirty, for even though he shooed them away, some of the women would always come inside and sweep, tidy, and generally rearrange his things. Most of his inventions he had brought over from Valdea, although they still kept his home there for him. Cogs, tools, wood shavings, and other miscellany littered the tables that spanned the walls of three of the four extensions. Wedged against the curved portions were a small bed, rough stools and chairs, and a collection of shards and minute artifacts of the ancients.

It was to these that Fewald was drawn as he entered the dappled light shining from the open skin windows. “Telkas, where did you find these?” His hands strayed over the shards of the builder that he remembered Telkas had spoken of as the reason he was thrown from Silas to a stack of carefully laid out metallic objects; some of them were badly rusted, but they were clearly extremely complex. Some of them had small parts, and flat boards of intricate designs with rusted lumps of metal covering their sides.

Broken clear slabs of the material that Fewald had found before in the small cave where he had met Telkas also littered the table.

Telkas touched a small undamaged cube of clear material. “We found these where we were excavating in the Topstone ledge. I couldn’t see any more, but these were preserved in the soil layers. I’ve never seen anything like them. Have you?”

Fewald admitted that he had not. “The hands of the ancients were truly amazing,

Telkas.”

He nodded. “That’s why I want to carry on their memory. If humans did it once, we can learn again. I want to build a place to study these.”

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Fewald glanced at him, looking up from the table. “Is this what you wanted to ask me about?”

Telkas tilted his head. “Actually, no.” he sat down heavily on the crude three- legged stool in front of the artifact table.

“I think the sea is rising.”

Fewald was at a loss for words; his mouth remained open for a split second.

“What, do you mean?”

Telkas explained the signs he had seen in Silas, and the young girl’s stream.

“There’s more as well. I’ve talked to some of the Silaseans that worked in the storehouses, some of which are nearly underwater. Remember the cave end where the ancient cavern was that we were kept prisoner in?”

Fewald said that he did.

“Well, it was blocked to stop rising water.”

Fewald’s eyes grew bigger. “But this is an underground tunnel. It would fill up eventually with rain.”

Telkas shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t. The river used to carry the fresh water away. All over the land, the water is rising.”

Fewald placed his hands on the table, supporting his weight. “We should have a meeting to discuss this.”

“I agree.” Telkas sat silently for a moment. “You know, Fewald, I admire your people for their ability to change. They worship it. I remember when I started to live with all of you. I couldn’t imagine it, how you gathered to worship the cycle around the great

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glowstone. I had never heard of anything like that in my life. Now, I find that I am counting on your ability to deal with change more than ever.”

Fewald straightened. “I’m glad we’ve been able to learn from one another.” Then he frowned. “I’m afraid that not everyone wants what we want, Telkas. We will need to work together even harder if we are to win them over.”

Telkas rubbed his stubble with a dirt stained finger. “I hope they come around.”

Fewald interjected. “You mean the Silasean hunters.”

He nodded. “Although Greth worries me sometimes. At least he talks to me, and you.”

A sharp wrap on the door startled them both.

“Yes?” Telkas asked.

A muffled voice responded. “Sir, we’ll need you soon. Almost ready.”

Fewald sighed and dipped his head in quick recognition. “We’ll continue this another time. Time to welcome your people to the forest.”

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CHAPTER XX

THE FEAST

As they exited the dome, the day was just beginning to wane. As they made their way to the courtyard, all around them people were excited and nervous, fidgeting with torches or baskets of food, preparing to bring them to the center. There had never been such a large group of Jahe invited into the city before.

Fewald nodded politely to anyone that made eye contact with him as they walked.

“What a nice smelling meal.” He said to a woman emerging from her tent, bearing a wicker basket laden with flatbreads. She blushed and hurried away.

All around them the sound of people moving and talking filled the air. From a large tent of animal hide that they passed along the way they saw huge hollow logs warming over coals, filled with aromatic fish stew. Animals were cut and cleaned, ready for roasting.

There was a small commotion to the left, people gathered around a tent that was used for storing grain. The people were acting strangely, as if they were unsteady on their feet.

Telkas inquired as to what was going on. Immediately the small group straightened up, piping out many “sirs.” He waved them away.

A man walked out. Hell-o sir. Whoa.” He looked dizzy.

“Okay, can someone tell me what this is all about?” 260

The man hiccupped. “Well sir, it seemed that some of the grain spoilt. It’s got some sticky stuff on the bottom of the barrel. Tastes kinda weird. And it makes you feel all tingly.”

Telkas raised an eyebrow. “Can I see it?”

A wooden bowl was brought out. It was filled with an opaque frothy liquid. It smelled warm, like grains and bitterness. Telkas put a finger in and tasted it. It was thick, and pungent in a strangely pleasant way. He flicked his finger dry.

“Maybe something could come of it. If it makes you numb it could be a painkiller.

Are you interested in looking into it?” Telkas questioned the man, who nodded.

“Sounds interesting.” With that they went on.

The people had begun to gather all around the rings of tables. At the center of the widest road that travelled from the main gate the tables split until the very end, where there was a long table for, Telkas assumed, the leaders of both sides. Rokus hurried up to him.

He was dressed in the same leather coat that had become the fashion in New Silas.

He had feathers strewn about the intricate weavings all down his sides as well. Telkas thought to himself that he looked a lot like a bunch of forest birds mixed up and strangled together. He looked to Fewald and saw that he shared the bemused look. Silaseans were not known for their attention to appearances.

Rokus bowed. “Ah, good to see you both. Fewald, sir, your father approaches the

main gate. You would wait for him here?”

Fewald agreed. “That would be fine, yes.”

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All around them, the people began to take their places, filling the moon-shaped center of the city. They left tables at random here and there unfilled, for Telkas had requested that they not be broken up.

Down the sides of the long road were Jayka’s troops, armed with spears, and sporting freshly dyed green tunics. The timber gates swung open, and a procession began to make its way down the dirt pathway. Silaseans peered from behind the shoulders of the new soldiers to get a better view. Telkas craned his neck trying to make out exactly what was coming. Fewald said nothing, but only watched as a large shape made its way just barely beneath the gate posts, pulled by many Ze’Dayo.

In the front was Loka, on a mount, followed by various other members of his house. Next to him Telkas could see the unmistakably drab form of Greth. Behind them, however, was an unshaped blob.

As they continued down the road, Telkas realized that it was a cart like they had used to take goods to Silas, but whatever was in the back was covered by skins. He glanced sideways at Fewald, who continued staring straight forward, but couldn’t help a small grin.

As the procession moved forward, Silaseans began to follow them down the dirt road, gathering in the center of town. Loka slowed his mount, and two Jahe moved to his sides and assisted the old man in dismounting.

Telkas bowed, and everyone followed suit, including Fewald at his side.

Loka smiled at them both. “My son, and the son of Silas together. I am happy to finally see this city of yours, Telkas.”

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Telkas rose. “It’s not mine. We all had a hand in this, and it’s all of ours. We are proud of it, chief. We offer foods and a table for you, and we are happy to welcome you here.”

Rokus’s volunteers to reconstitute the priesthood stepped forward in their long leather coats, and directed many of the group to their seats, and Telkas led Fewald, Loka,

Greth, and many other members of the elite of Valdea to the long low table that was set with wooden platters and bowls ready to hold the feast that was being brought out; it was a much less ordered affair than what Telkas had remembered in Silas, on purpose.

Loka, before seating himself, turned to Telkas and addressed him. “Before we

begin, I wonder if I might be able to present this city with a gift.”

Telkas looked at Fewald, who only smiled. “Of course, as you wish.”

Loka raised his hands, and spoke in a commanding voice that somewhat surprised

Telkas. “People of Silas, we are happy to be welcomed into your community, and to

welcome you into the lands near our own city. There have been ages of war between our

different cultures, but today I see you have built a new culture. In the spirit of both

remembering our history together, and starting a new one of friendship and peace, the

Jahe would like to make a gift of this--.”

At that, two of the hunters from Valdea released the cords binding the skins on the

cart. Shining in the center was a huge piece of glowstone. Green in the evening light, it

faintly had begun to release the energy that Telkas knew would only intensify with

sound. It was twice as high as he was, with sides mostly straight, curving inwards and

upwards like a spear point until it terminated at the top.

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Loka gestured towards it. “This is of the same stone that the great one in the center of Valdea is carved. It represents your people, I feel, twofold. It is born from the very mountain, and holds the energy of the earth within it, as do you. It points skyward, representing that there is no limit to which you cannot reach. This is our gift to you, to show the confidence we place in your new world.”

Many Silaseans were silent at first, but Telkas, perhaps catching the old man off guard, embraced him. The old man’s eyes were wide, but then they closed and he returned it.

Telkas raised his arm to encompass the city. “Loka we can’t forget the kindness you’ve shown us. We’ve put the blood behind us. You’ve given us support, sent food and supplies to help us, and you gave us the freedom to build all of this. In return we will be here to return your gifts.”

Silasean and Jahe looked to each other. There were nods of acknowledgement, bows and arm clasping. For some reason, as Telkas looked at them, he felt uneasy, and chided himself. Here they were, having worked so hard for happiness, and he had nagging doubts. But as congratulations and thanks were exchanged between Jayka,

Rokus, Neeha and many others at their table, he realized that not everyone looked pleased. Greth only roughly acknowledged bows and nods, and refused to look him in the eye.

And, in the background, near the edge of one of the new domes, Kaldor and his hunters leaned in careless fashion, arms folded, saying nothing.

But soon it was forgotten. Telkas motioned for Rokus to begin the feast. In a flash scores of steaming trays and cauldrons of hardwood trunk were brought out, some carried

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by four men. There was food from Valdea as well, fresh trout from the river, steaming roast game, brought out on spits, ground porridge made from wild grains.

Jayka laughed as she watched Fewald attempt to drink from a steaming fish stew bowl and dribbled food down his beautiful blue jerkin. “By the ancients.” He complained as he brushed it off. Telkas laughed in spite of himself.

Fewald flicked some of the juice at his friend. “All of the help I give and this is the thanks I get?”

Up and down the rows, Telkas saw men and women of two races beginning to talk, as flute players struck up a melody. He was a bit surprised; although they had already met and interacted with one another, this was a big step for all of them. The flute players and low drums of Silas were composed of their traditional wavering sonorous notes. Many Jahe sat and listened quietly as the melody wound up and down, coursing like a slow-moving river.

Then, a sudden commotion and raised voices caught their attention. As the fires burned bright, and the daylight faded, the notes of the music began to work on the glowstone. It must have been faint at first, but someone had noticed that the patterns of light, unlike the rhythmic pulsations of the cycle celebration music in Valdea, worked long twisting banners of light into the energy of the crystal. Soon, to the musician’s delight, it began to follow their music.

“Thank you again Loka for this gift. This stone will be a part of our city for generations.”

It was some time before everyone had taken their fill. Despite the hundreds there that night, there was no way that they could finish the amount of food saved there; even if

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it had not been for the gifts of grains and dried meat from Valdea, they would have had

enough food to feed themselves for a week.

Telkas couldn’t help grinning constantly, he felt like a fool, but for some reason he no longer tried to hide his happiness. He didn’t care what anyone thought of him. He saw, in the green light of the stone, Jayka and the Jahe dancing.

She moved with the grace of a fine bird, like a great eagle, dipping and swaying, at one moment she was down near the earth; the next she swooned and strained upwards toward the newly starred sky. The villages were dancing, laughing, and for once he felt, just maybe, he had done right to bring them here, that everything had worked, despite the dangers they had faced, despite the death and horrors of the journeys they had all taken together, that everything was as it should be.

As the Jahe plucked their bows against their gourds, as the Silaseans trilled their flutes, amidst the beating drums, she turned to face him.

For one moment, it was Jestea. She emerged out of the blackness of the night, one hand in front, bowed, at her waist, fingers curled. A tear wet her cheek.

He started from his crossed legged position.

Fewald placed a hand at his back. “Telkas? Is everything all right?”

He turned, Fewald’s face expressed concern.

Telkas swigged water from a bowl. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Fewald patted his back. “She is very strong, isn’t she? Very beautiful.”

Telkas looked at her. Jayka bowed gracefully.

“She is very beautiful.”

Fewald lowered his voice. “You remember your lady.”

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Telkas said nothing.

“I know it must be hard for you. I’ve thought of what you did back there, more than you know. No one can blame you for what you did. You sacrificed your own happiness for these people. For mine. For me. No man could ask more of you.”

Telkas set down his bowl. “I thank you for your honesty. You’ve given me guidance when no one else was there for me, Fewald. But I will always regret what happened to her.”

The chief’s son nodded. “You are truly a good leader, Telkas.”

Telkas stared into the fire to their left. “I hope that the Gods prove you’re right my friend. For all of this goodness, I can’t forget that I wasn’t able to lead the one person

I love most in this world”

The celebration lasted late into the night. There were many gifts exchanged when the moon arose. Fewald was presented with a dome to call his own. The Silaseans pledged to build some of the underground storage areas for food that had so amazed the chief not long before. Telkas brought out the artifact that Fewald had so admired.

“A gift for you to hold in the treasuries of Valdea.”

One last gift, however, was in store. Loka motioned for Jayka and some of the hunters to step forward. They carried bundles wrapped in leather.

Loka arose, with support from his son. “One last present for you, Jayka, to give.”

She looked at him, a question in her eyes.

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“I have heard that Telkas and the Silaseans are to train warriors. I hope that these

fighters will use the skills of both our peoples to become strong and honorable. I wish for

you to give them these.”

The hunters whisked the covers off to reveal scores of bows. They were nearly as

tall as Telkas, carved of the same curving dual-tone wood as Jayka’s. In their tips they

each held a glowstone.

Loka motioned for one. Holding it aloft, he addressed the people. “There is

nothing in this world that calls for war unwarranted. Let us hope that we can all count on

you to train with them, to gain the hearts of warriors, but to never need to rely on them.”

He handed the bow to Neeha, sitting a few chairs across from him.

The new archers gathered from their positions on the road, and, with bows, took

their new weapons.

Jayka nodded to the chief. “If I have your blessing I would gladly lead these people.”

Loka nodded. “Bring honor to us.”

Cheers erupted from Jahe and Slasean alike. Through the night, Telkas saw a pair of sharp eyes fix onto him.

“You need archers? We have warriors already, Telkas.”

It was Kaldor. His men had stepped into the firelight.

The crowd fell silent. Nervously, the new archers tightened the grip on their weapons.

It was Telkas who spoke first. “Kaldor, surely you don’t mind a few more well trained bows?”

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He sneered. “Women. And lead by a woman. We have no need of help such as this.”

Greth stood swiftly. “And why should we trust you to defend our interests? Or anyone else?”

Loka turned and looked at Greth with a cold stare. Telkas had never before seen such a look. “there was a time when people such as they defended you. Sit down.”

Greth was speechless. Confused, he did as commanded.

Loka looked to Telkas.

The young leader arose. Slowly, deliberately, Telkas moved around the table until he was face to face with the old hunter. “Kaldor, in this place, we are all allowed the right to serve. We got here together. We will stand together. Like it or not, the Jahe have helped us in our time of need. I trust them with my life. They’ve given us food, friendship, and safety, which is what many of us have never had before.”

Kaldor dropped his hands to his side, fingering the handle of his Hakki hunting blade. “We’re safe enough here. We’ve survived a long time before this, and we will again. And who says you’ve the right to lead and say what we do here?”

“I do.” Neeha was standing, spear in hand.

Kaldor spat at her. “Woman.”

“And I” It was Jorun. His priests stood with him.

Kaldor looked back and forth at them. Soon, Silaseans began to stand all around.

Telkas watched, eyes widening, as the entire city stepped closer, or rose from their seats. He recognized the young hunter who had called out about the lies of the

Jordanus. He saw the man who had found the tainted grain. One by one, they all stood.

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Neeha brandished her spear at them. “We’ve had enough of the old ways. I’m tired of you hunters pushing us, lording over us, telling us how to live.”

“Yes, and who to marry.” Came a woman’s voice.

“Or what we can do with ourselves.”

Telkas crossed his arms. “Decide, hunter. This is a new world. Get in, or get out.”

Kaldor tightened the grip on his knife. “You are fools. You think these people protect you? I’ve seen them kill. I’ve seen what support they give to innocents under their protection. Just you ask the old one.”

Telkas was unmoved. “I stand with the Jahe as they did for me. You are free to leave if you want, but you cannot return. We must never look back to the old ways.”

Kaldor drew his knife. In an instant, Jayka was on him, knocking it out of his hand and tripping him. The knife lodged in the dirt the moment he hit the ground. Before he could strike back she nimbly leapt backwards.

She snarled. “Coward.”

Greth was up again, too. “Anyone else try anything, they will be dead.”

Telkas threw up his hands. “No. No killing. Let them leave. whoever wants to go, go now.”

Greth turned on him. “You let them leave, they will be out there in the night.”

Telkas nodded. “And if they ever come back to these lands again, then you can kill as many of them as you like.”

Kaldor looked around from the ground. Determined eyes ringed him and his hunters. He got up, leaving the knife. “You’ll regret this. These people are the devil. They will take us all to the gates of the burning deeps.”

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Jayka raised her bow. “Just you.”

Cursing, Kaldor stormed off into the street. All along the way, the new archers

brandished their spears at them. Most of the hunters followed him as he fumed, only

disappearing into the night as he passed the gate.

Telkas sat heavily on the earth, head in hand.

Fewald knealt next to him.

Suddenly Telkas sprang up. “That’s the last I want to hear about old Silas. We will all grow and be treated equally. We’ve been through a lot together, and the Jahe have been there every step of the way for us.” He placed his arm around Fewald’s shoulder.

“We have allies, and friends, and we will not forget the love they show for us. That’s the greatest thing in this world. When you give out that love, you receive it back a thousand times over. This is a place we can create new. This is where my dreams became real, and yours can, too. This is the upper world, everyone. This is Silas.”

The people cheered.

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CHAPTER XXI

THE BOATBUILDER

Though it was nearly midsummer, Telkas awoke to knocking on his door with a chill. He rolled over, wrapped in skins, and stifled a curse. “Yes? Who is it?”

A muffled voice came from outside. “It’s Jaketh sir. Did I wake you? I am sorry, I can come back later…”

“No, no.” Telkas mumbled. What is it?” He rolled out of bed, donning his tunic.

“I had an idea, sir.”

“Come in.”

The light was bright, the rising sun just peered into the doorway. It framed a thin gangly looking hunter. Telkas recognized the young man who had taken so well to building.

“What’s the idea?” Telkas noticed that the man seemed to be staring at his leg. It was still racked with scars. Telkas drew his coat over himself.

“Well, Sir I noticed that the fishing in the rivers is not as good.”

Telkas walked groggily over to the table and dunked his head in a bowl of water.

He remembered how much he hated mornings. “And?”

“The Jahe build boats, and I was wondering if I could help build a big one.”

Telkas looked up at him, hair dripping. “A big one?”

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The hunter walked further into the dome. “Yes sir, a big one. To go further out into the sea, to catch more fish for the cities.”

Telkas looked more closely at the man. He had a light about him, excited, or perhaps nervous, but an air of energy that reminded him of someone. Then he smiled.

“You are great at building. I’d hate to lose you.”

The hunter shuffled. “Thank you sir. It’s just, I love the water…”

Telkas remembered how much he loved the stone tunnels of the ancients. He thought about how reckless he had been, despite everyone around him, to find out more.

“You love the water.”

The man nodded.

Telkas somehow felt old. “I remember feeling like that. You know, I almost lost someone very close to me because I was so happy to do what I loved.”

The hunter’s expression changed to sadness. “I understand.”

Telkas chuckled. “No. It’s alright. You want to build a big boat? Want to make something that can move into the ocean?”

Jaketh nodded.

“You have my blessing. Just remember one thing.”

“Yes sir?”

“Throw yourself into it. Don’t let anyone stop you if you believe in it enough. I’m sure you will build the finest craft to sail since ancient times. Just keep me updated. Ask

Fewald for help in who to learn the art from. If you need some helpers, come to me.”

A huge smile lit up the man’s face. “I won’t let you down sir. I promise.”

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With that he was gone. Telkas considered going back to sleep, but then he remembered he was to meet Fewald later that day, and he began to prepare.

###

Telkas and Fewald sat on the odd outcropping of stone where he had almost been crushed only the summer earlier. He let his brace click on the edge of the precipice.

Fewald broke the silence as the noon sun cooked them. “I think yesterday went well.”

Telkas let out a half-hearted laugh. “Do you? It could have been better.”

Fewald picked up a small stone. “You stood strong, Telkas. You lead with a

strength beyond your years.”

Telkas shook his head. “I was afraid.”

Fewald dropped the stone with a clatter. “Afraid?”

“I was terrified of him. Of what he meant, what he represents. And in a way, I

thought Greth must be right. What if I left them out there? What if someone dies?”

Fewald sighed. “You don’t think I’ve gone through that? I was just as worried

about leading us back into Silas. And a dozen other times too.”

Telkas bobbed his head, agreeing almost to himself. “Yes, that makes sense. But

it feels so different. It’s not just me, or even one or two others. It’s both of our cities I’ve

put in danger. Because I was afraid.”

Fewald arose and looked down into the valley. It was narrow, leading at the

southern tip down into the only entrance into New Silas, and at its northern end, enclosed.

It was very steep save for the odd ramp of loose stone they used to climb up to their

vantage point. At the top of the sharp cliffs, the blue sky beamed brilliant.

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“I’m not exactly sure what to tell you, Telkas.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “There are a thousand different words that I could use to describe what is happening to us, what you should do. But I’m not going to.”

Telkas shifted his position on the edge, twisting to look at the chief’s son.

“I’ve seen you do some things I hadn’t ever thought about. And I won’t talk about them. They are part of all of the things that are. The Kaleah doesn’t wait for people to act; it will always carry on its course for what we need. We can either fight it, or see if we can make the best of it. Loka couldn’t let those people die without trying because it wasn’t right. You couldn’t leave Jestea behind without trying to bring her home. And none of us could change how we lived until there was no other way but another way.”

Telkas let out an ironic laugh. “Well, that’s just being stubborn for you I suppose.

Everyone I know is like that.”

Fewald nodded. “That’s just how people are. We stick with what works. But something very soon is going to change things. I think that’s why all of this is happening.

Those who choose not to come along with it will be left behind.”

Telkas looked out into the rocks and dust below. “It may come to more than that.

We may have to defend ourselves.”

Fewald waved the thought away. “I have already stationed scouts to be on the look out for your hunters. We’ll know if they come back.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then, what Telkas?”

Telkas stood, and walked over to him. Placing his arm on Fewald’s shoulder, he said: “I’m worried that they never meant to come out here at all. I’m afraid that they

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came here to see what was happening. I’m afraid they are going back to report to the

Jordanus.”

“That may be. But there isn’t much we can do about it now. We just have to

prepare ourselves for the worst.”

Telkas picked up a flat rock, eyeing it’s straightness. “Exactly.”

Fewald raised his eyebrows. “Telkas what are you planning now?”

Telkas looked out over the valley. “I want to make a cavern.”

They sat for much of the day talking. Fewald listened while Telkas laid out his

plan.

Fewald only interjected rarely. “So, you will cover this with huge stones, and use

the same concept to make this narrow valley into a cave?”

“Even easier than it seems. We can build arches across the top of the fissure, and make topstones in a large row. Half the valley is filled already with sand and pebbles. It wouldn’t take a lot to get them flowing towards the back of the valley. The biggest question is if we can shore up the front, and build arches there.”

Fewald considered the expanse of valley. It was narrow, around ten lengths of a man across the top, narrowing slightly to the bottom which was filled with loose debris and sand up to four or five times his own height from the top. “It would be hard to move about all of this debris.”

Telkas thought. “There are a lot more plans to be made. I think we can dam up each section and shovel it in and build the cap over the valley with stone, moving

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backwards each time with more sand to support the stone. Then we can spread soil over the top and grow food there. But it will be impossible to break apart once the stones are in place. It will be as hard to assault as Silas.”

Fewald looked at the valley, staring and moving his hand to shield the sun as if he were planning the construction himself. “This will take a lot of people.”

Telkas nodded. “I know. I’ll have to ask Loka about it. I want this to be made by both of our people. That way there will be no suspicion. It’s something that we can share, and eventually it will be a city.”

Fewald smirked. “I’m not sure that the Jahe would want to live underground.”

Telkas paused momentarily. “Well, I’m sure that more domes can be built, or you can stay in Valdea. It’s an invitation I’m hoping to give. I want to bring us together.”

Fewald looked at his young friend. “Telkas, we are already close. Closer, in fact, than I thought we would even become so quickly. It’s evident that many of the people in your city hate those hunters as much as some in Valdea hate them. I think this has brought us together.”

Telkas nodded. “I agree. But eventually we will need something to bring us together that isn’t a mutual hatred. We’ll need to create something. Like the soldiers that

Jayka is training. Or the ships. And this is the biggest of all.”

Fewald began to walk toward the slope. “Speak with Loka about it. He will know what to say.”

Telkas had not been to Valdea in what seemed like a very long time. As he walked through the stables and the small rear postern gate, he saw that everywhere his

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presence was noticed. Many Jahe would bow as he passed, or at least acknowledge him with a nod, or a smile. He walked along the old stone pathways, and found himself remembering back to the seasons before when he had stayed with them, watched their celebration of the moon cycles, saw them dance.

The old man sat, with his hand supporting his chin. In spite of his commandeering pose, he brimmed with happiness. He was cross legged, behind the rock hearth that sported that same strange white flame that he had seen just before his departure to Silas.

His eyes lit up beneath the wrinkles. “Telkas, I am happy to see you here in my hall.

What do you need to talk to me about?”

Telkas bowed. “Loka, thanks for seeing me on such short notice. I was hoping that we could talk about the Hunters that were banished during the feast.”

Loka only continued his merry grin.

Telkas went on. ”Well, I’m worried about what they might do.”

Loka nodded. “I think that they may do a great deal. You must continue to have faith in yourself. Continue the way that you have been going. We will all walk together.”

Telkas sat as the old man motioned for him to come near the fire. Loka placed his hands within the folds of the billowing colorful robe he wore. “I’m happy to have brought everyone here, but I feel like we should take charge and build a place to protect ourselves. Those hunters know a lot about our defenses, and I am not sure if the Jordanus will keep them down there forever. They might turn violent like never before.”

Loka sighed. “Violent like many times before.”

Telkas fell silent.

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The old man looked into the fire. “Telkas, there are many things that the old ones

under the earth seem to have kept from you. There have been battles fought here before,

for as long as anyone can remember, and it has affected the fighters on both sides. Cycles

must be broken if things are to get better.”

Telkas stared into the dust on the floor, and slowly began to nod. Then he stopped

and looked up. “Yes, but you celebrate the cycle.”

“We do celebrate the cycle. But there is also a cycle of change. The spiral tells us

of this. Please, eat.” He gestured to a woven bark basket which held dried fishes. Telkas accepted a handful from Loka, and they chewed for a moment.

“Do you remember the Last time you were here?”

Telkas nodded.

“Do you remember the cloth that holds the spiral, the Kaleah, the history of our cycles?”

Telkas nodded again.

“I told you many moons ago that there had been people of the dark world, like you, that had come to live here before.”

“Yes, I remember.” Then it hit like lightning. Telkas remembered that Loka had told him that they had died from the same exploding beasts of fire that had attacked Silas.

He remembered the little pale figures wreathed in flame on the spiral. “What happened?”

Telkas’s face grew grim.

Loka sighed. “There were others like you before, Telkas. We learned from them as I told you, and we tried to make them feel welcome, and did not bother them as they made their home at the base of the falls.”

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Telkas listened eyes wide. “And then?”

Loka continued. “We gave them care, and left them mostly to themselves. They

were happier under the shade of the old trees there, where even when the sun is at it’s

height, little of it gets through to the ground. They piled up branches and made plans to

live in old caves behind the curtain of water.”

Loka pushed aside the basket of food. “We heard them talk about the plans of the

underworld. About huge tunnels that they had been forced to build.”

Telkas frowned. “Tunnels? What kind?”

Loka shook his head. “I do not know. I know that these people were very smart.

They do not seem at all like those you have brought out of the Silas. Excuse me if I offend you.”

Telkas chuckled. “No offense. And some of them are getting very quick. You should see the boats that Jaketh is planning to make. He asked for your help, you know.”

Loka smiled, the skin crinkling and following the traces of years of laughter.

“Yes, I have heard. He is a good man. As were those at the falls. But they did something

that you do not.”

Telkas cocked his head.

“They sang, Telkas. I remember them mentioning that it was forbidden in the

underworld. But they sang beautifully. And it was full of, of history. A tale. And many of

the words I could not understand.”

Telkas thought of Rokus. “Loka, were they priests? Is there anything left of

theirs?”

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Loka shook his head. “The place still exists, although the people and buildings are gone. What remains is little more than ash. It seems the same demons that attacked

Rokus also attacked these people.”

Telkas placed his head in his hands. He sat on the floor for a moment, cross- legged, unspeaking. “I’d like to see one of these demons. How can I find out?”

Loka looked directly back at Telkas. His eyes were full, a trace of sadness. “You must follow me. We will go there together and see if we can uncover more information.”

Telkas scratched his head. “But Loka, I don’t understand why you haven’t already.”

“Telkas there is an old saying that we have. A wise man must have age and experience, but an aged man must only have experiences.”

Telkas shook his head.

Loka coughed. “Hmm. You see, an old man only has experiences. He may or may not be wise. But if you have experiences of age, and learn from them, then you gain wisdom.” He chuckled. “You cannot have one without the other. Do you understand the joke?”

Telkas smiled emptily, shrugging his shoulders.

Loka resigned himself to the attempt and returned the smile half heartedly. “Well,

I do not always get the humor of you underworlders. But I learn and try to change. Each cycle can be a repetition or it can be a new opportunity. Before, I met your brothers and felt it best to leave them be. We talked and learned from one another, but now I find that my leaving them be lessened what we were able to learn from them. And, it led to their death, I fear.”

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Telkas pulled back his head in surprise.

“If we had kept them closer, helped them in their time of need more, then they

might still be here. Some of the Jahe would still be here. We still do not know everything

about their deaths. That is why I knew that we had to send food to Silas. That’s why I

think you came to us. Seldom does the Kaleah send someone without a purpose. But it is

always our choice to take that job seriously. I believe we had a chance before, and we

failed. We left them too alone, did not care for them. And now, we will do it right.”

It was nearing evening as the old man set off ahead of Telkas on the Ze’Dayo’s back. The city around them was falling quiet, the light getting slighter in the heavens, falling behind the huge trees to the west.

He made sure to keep his mount close behind the great chief. Cloaked, he slipped out the front entrance quietly, flanked with body-guards. Some of the lookouts eyed them strangely.

At their front stood Greth, who held up his hands. “Chief, must you go out tonight with the danger of those underworld hunters about?”

Loka moved his mount alongside Greth, and placed his hand on the weathered man’s shoulder. “Some things are more important than keeping locked up behind wall and gate, Greth. I have some of your best scouts about me. They will alert us of any danger. After all, this is our home, and I only go to the falls. But it must be done.”

A pained look flashed across Greth’s face. “Why take him there?” His glance flickered for a moment on Telkas, and for the first time in a long time Telkas saw unfettered hatred in Greth.

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“We need to look at the past in order to better understand the present. I do not ask you to come with us.”

Greth punched the wall.

Telkas had no idea how to react.

Loka simply kept riding. “Do not fear, Greth. We will return soon. We have just enough light to finish our task.”

Without another word, they were gone, their mounts trotting off into the wide meadow in front of Valdea. Telkas looked over his shoulder; Greth was still watching them go.

They travelled for a while, the hooves of the animals making empty thudding sounds against the darkening carpet of wildflowers and summer-baked soil. Part of their escort moved ahead of them, disappearing into the undergrowth of purple plants and wide bluish leaves. The pines towered far above them, making it even darker as they approached the beginnings of the forest.

Telkas was seldom in the woods at night. Inside the acidic smell still surprised him, and he saw the trees bleeding their strange white blood down their bark hides.

Loka said nothing, and Telkas tried to imagine what those people were like. If they were truly the priests of old Silas, as Rokus had spoken of, then they might have been all that was left of their history. What was it Rokus had said? That he had prepared to be a priest, but that they had all disappeared. He was a student of the old historic order, or was going to be.

“What do you think about, young leader?”

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Telkas started on his mount. “I, was thinking, trying to remember something that

Rokus had said.”

“Ahh. The new leader of your people’s hearts. He is a very busy man. A good man.”

Telkas thought for a moment. “You know him, Loka?”

The old man continued his slow back and forth leaning with the animal as it made its way through the forest. “Yes. He asked to learn from our elders and storytellers, to make up for the stories that he lost. This took place over the time you were in Silas. He is a good man. He missed his friends very much.”

Telkas paused, trying to make out his meaning. “Friends?”

Loka coughed dryly. “Yes, the ones that left him. The ones he wished to learn from.”

Telkas tapped the sides of his animal lightly to speed it up. “And? Do you think that this might be what happened to them? Do you think they lived here?”

Loka only waddled to and fro, saying nothing. Telkas knew that he would get nothing else out of him but smiles and old stories. The chief would talk when he was ready.

They had made it to the part of the forest riddled with tiny streams; in the twilight woods, which had lost much of their undergrowth, they seemed like black snakes twisting between the trees, carving paths between trunks and mounds of their tiny orange leaves.

In the distance, and gradually growing louder, they heard the roaring of the huge river pounding its way down the sharp cliff. The last rays of the sun caught it’s top,

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alighting it, making it appear as an inferno, crowning the roaring water, against the indigo

and darkening sky.

“We at one time called this the place that begins the stars. There is an old legend

that the water is the light for the twinkling night sky.”

Telkas craned his neck back as they moved out of the forest. “It certainly seems

so.”

As their guards spread out into the forest, they dismounted. There was a large

clearing of dusty dark soil, moving into a rocky beach that framed an enormous pool of

water. That eventually led to the thundering falls, which continued mostly to the left, but

for some small streams that lead into the forest, and were the source of the rivulets there.

On the right was a rocky ridge that led to the base of the water’s fall itself.

In front of them were a series of raised mounds of earth, piles of old earth and

wood, the remnants of old foundations.

Loka gestured to them. “This is where these people lived. Whatever attacked them left the burning bodies and piles of destroyed homes. We buried what we found. I only wish we had kept more hunters around the village.”

Telkas stopped walking. “What do you mean?”

Loka walked slowly over to the graves. “I thought to help protect them. But there was a lot of distrust between us, and in the end I could only get small groups of hunters to scout the forests around the village here.”

Telkas made a noise in his throat. “people like Greth.”

Loka turned and faced the boy, and Telkas recoiled a tiny bit. The chief’s face was drawn and deadly serious. “Telkas, Greth was here. He believed in the new people.

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He followed my orders to protect them, and often brought his wife and little one here to meet them.”

Telkas tried to comprehend. “But, he hates the Silaseans. Why would he do that?”

“Because they killed them.”

Telkas looked at the graves. “The priests couldn’t have done that. They weren’t even trained to fight.”

Loka sighed. “I only know what I saw, Telkas. I saw many Jahe with the arrows of your priests in their backs. I saw the flames overtake the village, the deaths of the

Silaseans here. I do not know why this all happened. The place itself has a bad feel to it, poisoned by the evil done here. Greth was knocked out, pierced with arrows. He had to be dragged from the fire, but not before it scarred his face. He says he rushed back to their village when he heard screams, and found his family murdered and the world engulfed in flame.”

Telkas knelt. “It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make any sense at all. Where did the fire come from?”

“It burst. Greth said the village burst into flame. That’s why he didn’t want to go back to Silas. That’s why he hates you the way he does.”

Telkas gripped the ashen earth. “But I didn’t do this to him. None of it! I have been trying to help. And why haven’t you told me of this before?”

Loka walked to the graves. “Things are not always clear. I do not want the mistakes of the past to color your look on people, or to make other people keep hating.

Greth knows that he must look past this, to let it go, to forgive. That doesn’t mean he has

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the right to burden you with any of this. Or any of us. His pain has to be his own, and he would not want it any other way.”

Telkas looked at the chief. He felt a burning inside his chest. “And why tell me now?”

“Before this did not concern you. It was a past that didn’t need to be brought into light. But now I believe that it does. I believe that all of this is our past, and we need to discover the secrets it holds. Only then will we be able to combat the fire, and the threats from Silas.”

Telkas nodded. “There is still a lot to uncover. But I’m not sure where to begin. I need to know everything.”

Loka pointed to the graves. “We buried them here. As I said before, all that we know I have told you. Our hunters were attacked. And the village was consumed by the flames.”

Telkas tapped his foot. For all the world he could not understand why this information had not concerned him before. Weren’t these his people? And it explained

Greth, all of that hatred. But something didn’t fit.

“Loka, were the bodies speared?”

Loka shook his head, not understanding.

“Outside of Silas, I saw the burned bodies, the heads on spikes. If there were monsters of fire, they would act the same, wouldn’t they?”

Loka observed the graves. “I do not know how creatures like that act. But these dead were not touched besides being burned. There were no spears here.”

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Telkas walked over to the burned ruins. There were what looked like twenty or so,

all rotted and blackened over the years, some barely holes left in the ground. “And you

buried them all? Ten seasons ago?”

“Yes. Twelve.”

“Then what is this?” Telkas pointed over towards the shore. Ten paces or so away from the circle of ruins was what was definitely a fresh grave. It was cairned with rocks, and the soil was disturbed around it.

They both walked over to it. Loka bent down to examine the rocks. “This… appears to be new.”

There was something small atop the mound. Telkas looked closer; it was a small,

clear object, perfectly square. He picked it up, and blew the dust off of it. In the fading

light, he saw rainbows of dancing light through the clear material. It was like the ancient

artifacts, bright and perfectly carved. In the center was a round orb, cut of a thousand

colors. As he held it up to the fading light, it grew bright, reflecting a dancing pattern off

of his face. “By the Gods, Loka.”

Loka peered at it. “I have never seen such a thing.”

Telkas looked around him. “Whoever this is in the earth, they did not die twelve

seasons ago.” His heart leapt. Someone might still be alive.

Loka let out an agonizing cry. Startled, Telkas dropped the artifact, which

shattered on the rock. He turned to find a Silasean arrow protruding from the old chief’s

left shoulder.

“Telkas…” he sank to his knees.

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Immediately yells erupted from the forest. Telkas saw a Jahe hunter bound out of

the underbrush, turning and firing an arrow into the darkness. He limped over to them. He

seemed not much older than Telkas, and green leaves were woven into his hair.

“Chief, are you alright?”

Loka coughed, holding his wound tightly. “I am okay. What is it?”

We killed some of their hunters. We stayed silent, but when some of them found the two of you, we had to come out of hiding.”

Telkas looked into the darkness. “How many of them are there?”

The young archer turned, eyeing him suspiciously. “There were seven that we saw. I do not know where the last guard is, but they—killed four of us.” Telkas saw a gash running down the young man’s leg. “There is one of them we could not find, but the others are bleeding their last bit of blood onto the forest floor.”

Telkas exhaled deeply. There had been death in the forest. Somehow he never thought that it would come to this. He had to think fast. He put pressure on Loka’s wound. “We have to get Loka back to the city. What of your friend in the forest?”

The young hunter caught his breath even as he scanned for danger. “I do not know. We are exposed here in the open. We need to get back out of the line of sight.

Those bastards can see in the dark.”

“Okay. Loka, come with me.” Telkas supported the old man, who was strangely silent, only groaning as Telkas lifted him up. The brace clicked. “Where do we go?”

The hunter gestured over to the rock ledge to the right of the waterfall. Telkas began to move, supporting the old chief. As he made his way over the open rocky expanse, the old man began to get heavy.

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“I can make it, Telkas. We will call the Ze’Dayo. Do you see them?”

Telkas didn’t stop moving. “Hunter, do you see the mounts?”

The wind blew with a chill.

“Hunter?” Telkas whipped his head around, scanning for their guard. They had reached the edge of the long low barricade of rocks, and hid around its right side.

“Hunter?” Telkas looked into the dark, peering over the large rock at the beginning of the ridge. Their guard lay in the middle of the rocky soil, silent, an arrow buried in his back.

Telkas felt his heart pang. He tried to quiet his breathing. Why had they gone out here?

Loka whispered to him, leaning on the rock. “What has happened?”

“He’s dead. And there is an enemy somewhere out there. He’s been shot with an arrow.”

Loka put his hand to his heart, face twisted into anguish. What were they going to do? There was the water of the falls on the other side of the ridge, and thick brush and trees in front of them. It was all dark, and though Telkas could see better than the Jahe in the night, the Silasean hunters were trained to kill. He pounded the rock in frustration, cutting his hand. Why would they have put themselves in such a situation? They could have waited until morning. He looked at the old man. Loka was holding his arrow with one hand. He didn’t look into the darkness for danger, only down at his feet. He looked old. Very old.

Telkas put his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Did you say there were caves behind the water?”

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The old man nodded. “Telkas,” he said with a tear in his eye, “What have I done?”

“Let’s just survive this first. I will get you into the cave and we will try to figure out what to do next. How do we get there?”

Loka motioned over to the ridge. “We must follow this to the base of the cliff.

Push through the water and you will arrive.”

They made their way onto the ridge. Telkas knew they were terribly exposed. He drew a small knife that he kept on him, ever since Silas. Supporting Loka with one hand, and looking into the forest, some hundred paces away, Telkas had to force each step out of his feet. A tight feeling gripped his chest, and he found it hard to breathe. After an eternity, they reached the clear curtain of water that poured from the cliff. A small part of the tremendous flow bounded from a large outcropping, and came down more softly.

Breathing deep, Telkas stuck his head into the icy water. A black cavern extended beyond.

Telkas and Loka sat in the darkness of the cave. The moon had risen, lighting the curtain of water with a pale glow, some fifty paces behind them. The cave was roughly cut, but extended straight into the back of the water. Telkas did not want to continue onwards because the tunnel took an abrupt turn. Telkas watched the mouth of the cave, sitting on the damp floor, and listened for sounds from within. His heart thumped in his chest.

Loka breathed heavily.

“Are you feeling okay sir?”

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“I am feeling the weight of my decisions, Telkas. The wound will not kill me.”

“weight?”

Loka felt out in the dark, gripping Telkas’s hand. “My boy. This place has

claimed more lives than I can count. I wanted to solve the pieces of the riddle. There are

so many loose stories, so many pieces. You, the Priests, The threads of our lives. They

must meet somewhere. There is more to this. What was that strange box of ice? Who is

buried there?” He coughed hoarsely. “There are only more questions, the harder I try to

complete this picture. Perhaps some stories should not be told.”

Telkas felt the loose skin on the old man’s fingers, looked at his uncovered white

straggly hair. He looked so sad. “Loka, you did your best.”

“I did what I thought to be right. And a chief must stick with those choices. He

alone must bear their weight. All of the men I have lost, the people killed. You never

forget them. Remember that if you are to lead.”

“I am here with you, chief. You are not alone.”

Loka smiled in spite of himself. “You are. Don’t mind the ramblings of this old

man, Telkas. Learn from his failures. Learn from me that you might some day be better

than me.”

Telkas placed his hand overtop the old man’s grip. “You are a great chief Loka. If

only because your people matter to you.” He looked down and saw that Loka had closed his eyes. Hurriedly he felt for a heartbeat. It was still there. He realized that Loka must have passed out from the pain.

A raspy voice called out in the darkness. “Chief, of whom?”

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Telkas leapt to his feet. He called out trying to sound as confident as he could.

“Who are you? Don’t come any closer, or I will k—kill you where you stand!”

A laugh. “Indeed you will, with your little knife? I’ve lived through more dangerous attacks than what you could bring.”

Telkas turned towards the opening of the cave, placing himself between Loka and the light. It was then that he realized that nothing was in the tunnel in front of him. The noise came from behind.

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CHAPTER XXII

LAST OF THE VASH’JIR

Telkas whipped around. “Who is it?”

“I am called Aleen.”

Telkas strained into the dark, stepping over Loka. “What do you want?”

Half laugh, half cough, in response. “The question wild man, is what do you want in my cave?”

Telkas could make out two round eyes reflecting the shining light of the water, ten paces away, right at the turn of the cave. “I’m no wild man. I was of Silas.”

An arrow flew inches past his head. Telkas hugged the wall.

“Then be gone from here, murderer. I will have nothing to do with you and your prisoner. Leave me in peace before I decide to kill you.”

Telkas shouted. “I’m not a murderer. I’ve never killed anyone in my life.”

Another laugh. “Not what you would have had me believe a moment earlier.” The eyes blinked.

“We are hiding from Silaseans who are trying to kill us.”

The eyes blinked again. “And why would they want to kill you?”

“Because they hate everything that they aren’t. Show yourself. We are looking for

shelter, not a fight.”

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The eyes moved closer. Gradually, the light fell upon a hunched figure walking

upon a cane, a bow slung over his shoulder. The man was thin, with the palest skin, and

thinning hair that only formed itself in significance in a ring around the back of his head

and over his ears. It was pure white. Around his neck was a chain of metallic substance,

and set within that, glistening, was an identical box to the one he found outside. As he

caught sight of Telkas, his eyes grew wide. He stopped moving.

“Who are you, young man?”

“My name is Telkas.”

“Step away from the glare.”

Telkas moved into the shadows, positioning himself between Loka and the man.

The old man leaned against the rock wall, staring at him.

Telkas recoiled. “Are, you… alright?”

The old voice softened. “You look very much like someone that I once knew,

boy. Very much.”

Telkas strained to make out the old man’s form. “Who are you, really?”

“I am the last of the Vash’jir. The ancient priesthood of Silas. And I know your face, boy, because I knew your father.”

Telkas slid to the ground beside Loka. “My, father?”

The old man stepped forward next to him, the tapping of his cane echoed in the cave. “I did. He often spoke of you, of the hopes he had for all of us. He was a great man.”

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Telkas shook his head. “You must be wrong. My father was a cave digger. He

repaired the ventilation shafts.”

“Yes.” Came a croaked reply. “He was great at what he did. He helped us build

the cavern that the Jordanus demanded. And he was with us all, here, in the village,

before it was burned.” The man had tattered filthy robes that smelled of dampness and

earth.

“You knew my father?”

“And your mother. They hated to leave you behind. But I must know, how do you

come to be here?”

Telkas felt dazed. He briefly recounted the exile from Silas, the caverns of the

ancients, and the events following. The old man leaned on his cane, silently listening.

For a long moment they both stayed still. Telkas put his hand on the old Chief,

checking to make sure he was still alive, and put pressure on the wound. It still bled.

Telkas ripped part of his tunic and bound it tightly across the shoulder. Loka groaned.

The old priest spoke, finally. “and you say Silas has left the underworld.”

Telkas looked up at him. His hair hung about his bare head, wisps moving in the faint airflow. In the depths of the cave, water dripped. “Some hundreds live in the new city now.”

“If what you say is true, then we must get the chief out of here. The Jordanus may be back to burn their homes.”

Telkas lowered his eyebrow. “The Jordanus?”

The old man sighed, and cleared his throat with a gurgle. “We were charged to make a cavern for the priests. We explained that it was to be a place of learning, to teach

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the young people of Silas. Since time began in the caves, we were charged to hold the

history of things that were before us. But the Jordanus and the elders were increasingly

unwilling to let us talk to the people or to take new students. For a hundred cycles, we

were forbidden to teach. Soon they even forbade us to train new priests. We fought back

and forth for generations, boy, to continue our sacred duty, to pass on the flame of

knowledge. But we were few, and little could be done to argue with the council.

“So, when the old man told us we were to build a secret cavern to make a new

school, and to teach new disciples the old words, we felt that we had finally gotten

through to them. Some builders worked with us in secret, eating and sleeping and

learning with us. We tried to pass on some of what we knew, boy. We were excited, you

see.” Another cough.

Telkas twitched, hanging on every word. “And?”

“And, we built that cave. They dug, and we laid out plans. But the Jordanus was

also a part of it. He insisted that we dig a new entrance in our high cavern, to the

upperworld. And we did so, not thinking.

When it was completed, hunters filled the cave. They forced us all to leave, into

the wild. The diggers, your father and mother, and the priests, everyone who knew of the

cavern. He forced us out.”

“My father and mother didn’t die in a cave in?”

“No. They fought to keep you, but you were so young. A few seasons old, maybe four or five. The hunters cut your leg, deep. They forced you to stay there. Your parents followed us into the wild lands. They did not die in the caves. They were consumed by fire. Soon after we met the wild men, including the old chief, they burned it down.”

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Telkas let the words sink in. “The Jordanus burned the village?”

“They constructed wooden machines in the cave we thought was to be our school,

Telkas. They hurl clay pots filled with fire and oil. That is what happened in the village,

boy. They killed the wild people and us, alike. They didn’t want us to pass on our

knowledge.”

“Why didn’t you escape to Valdea?”

Another laugh. “And do what? The wild people did not know what happened.

Many of them thought we attacked them. They have no knowledge of machines. They

thought the fire was a spirit, a curse for our evil ways. I have remained here.”

Loka stirred. “I am sorry for your pain—I want to right the wrongs that have been done to your people.”

The old man laughed. “You have tried and done enough. I will help you to get

back you your city, but I need no help of yours. Help this young one, now, old chief. My

time is nearly gone.”

Loka didn’t reply.

Telkas leaned his head back against the cave. “And who’s grave is freshly dug out

there?”

Aleen was silent for a moment. “She and I were the last. Landra was mine. She

was all I had left. The hunters, they took her.”

“The Silaseans?”

“No, you young fool. The wild people.” He slipped his hand into his robe, pulling

out a blue arrow tip. “We lived here for years. She went out to gather roots, and was cut

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down. I found her half a moon past, lying in the cold waters of the river.” He threw the arrow to the ground.

“I am sorry for that.”

“You had nothing to do with it, boy. But we may have little time now. We must get back to your villages. It is not long now, I fear, before the machines will be back.”

Telkas began to rise. “How do you know?”

“A few nights back, I looked into the dark sky. Above the cliff, where the wild men have their twisted line that they use to descend the cliff, I saw fire. The Silaseans have burned it. It will not be long before they burn more than just the people before

Silas.”

In a flash, Telkas realized that the Jordanus must have been behind the burnt bodies before Silas. Rokus, Neeha’s scars… His blood ran cold. It was all to keep them underground. To keep them from leaving. There was no danger, no demon. The demon was the Jordanus himself. Telkas cursed.

“We have to leave now. We must rouse him.”

It took cold water and some time, but they were able to awaken the old chief.

Telkas lifted him off of the ground. “The bleeding has mostly stopped, Loka. We have to get out of here. There’s no telling how many more of them will come.”

The old man seemed delirious. “What has happened to the guards? Are any around?”

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They exited the cave, the old man’s cane tapping on the rock. With surprising agility he scrambled down the ledge and into the thick brush. Telkas helped the chief move down the way, handing him to the priest.

Raspy laughter came from Aleen as he helped the old man down. “I watched you walk exposed along the ridge to get to the mouth. Not the best plan, is it? We will go this way.”

They made their way through the brush, Aleen’s bow half unslung over his hand, the cane supporting his weight. Telkas walked with Loka. They had not gone ten paces when, lightning fast, Aleen dropped his cane, drew an arrow, and fired. A dull thud sounded from in the brush in front of them. As they came upon the slumped form, Telkas saw that it was a Silasean hunter, the arrow through his heart. Aleen plucked it from the corpse, spitting on its shocked face. “Bastard.”

“Aleen, why are you doing this? You’re risking yourself for us.”

More laughter, and coughing. “What am I going to do, lose my youth and health?

Besides, that cave will be the death of me.”

Telkas was excited, despite himself. “I have found a lot of people who wish to restart the priesthood. Rokus, a good friend of mine, he would love to learn from you. We can make the new Silas what it should have been before all of this.”

The priest mulled it over. “We will see. He sounds like someone I would like to have a word with. Let’s just get your chief home.”

They walked in silence for a time, making their way through the low underbrush to the beginnings of the forest. The only sound was the running water, the animals of the night strangely silent. Telkas was awash with emotions. He had seen men killed that

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night, but all he could think of was the knowledge of the man protecting them. Here was

someone who could answer all the problems they had, who could tell them the truth about

the world. He knew about his father. About the true history of Silas. He began to imagine

a part of the new enclosed cavern where he could sit and listen to all that the man had to

say.

Aleen raised his hand, indicating a halt. Without a word he disappeared into the underbrush. Telkas strained his ears, listening. He and Loka were exposed, so he pulled them under the foot of a huge tree. The ground smelled of the white blood that seeped from the roots.

He heard nothing. He kept his arm around Loka, pressuring the arrow, and tried to will his eyes into seeing into the barrier of thick scrub in front of them.

He heard a scream. Telkas drew his knife.

Slowly, after what seemed like ages, a figure limped out of the screen of foliage.

It moved much too fast to be the old man.

It was a hunter. The green and brown tunic of Silas, the short plain bow, moved toward him. Telkas stood, knife out. The bow extended, the arrow sheathed into the notch.

With a cry, a figure in grey hurtled out from behind their tree, loosing an arrow from a great carved bow. The hunter before them crumpled, gurgling blood from his mouth, and lay still.

The Jahe hunter knelt down next to the Chief. “Loka, my chief, are you hurt?”

Telkas turned to him. “He’s gotten an arrow in his shoulder, but should be okay if we can get him into the city.”

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The hunter whistled like a bird, and several Ze’Dayo nervously cantered over from between the trees.

Telkas walked, without a word, into the underbrush.

The hunter watched him go. “You look for your friend?”

The underbrush was thick, so it was easy to find where the fallen form of Aleen had knocked over a patch of it, creating a hole. Telkas ran to him.

An arrow protruded from his chest. As Telkas leaned down, he coughed again.

Blood dribbled from his mouth.

“Got me, didn’t he boy?”

“You’re alive!”

“No. I’m not. I haven’t been alive for a long time.”

“Yes you are, you are going to be alright old man.” Telkas propped up the old wizened head. The eyes were very clear, blue, now that Telkas saw them up close.

He grinned, teeth stained with blood. “I will pass on. You get your chief to safety.

I’ve passed on what you need to know to prepare for them.”

“No you haven’t. I need you. We need you.”

“And what do you need me for. You have done much yourself from what I heard.

What need have you of me?”

Telkas could not help himself as tears welled up in his eyes. “You’ve been through so much. And you know of the old stories, the history of the people. You have to share it with us.”

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The old man smiled more softly. “I don’t have to do anything but bleed, my boy.

But I know why you cry. You cry because you are alone. You cry for your parents. And you should.”

Telkas began to let tears drip on the filthy robes. “I can’t lose you. I’ve waited for

you for my whole life. You have to live. You are the last link to our truth.”

“I’m no such thing.” He coughed and rasped. “I’ll tell you something, Telkas.”

The young man leaned down, putting his ear closer as the voice quieted to a whisper.

“Put no stock in stories. You have a story to tell. I’ve spent my life telling them, and what matters is the talent to stir your people. Your people flocked to you, and the wild people, and you have built something. You have the gift of lifting us up. It can’t be taught, but it can be wasted.”

He reached down to his chest.”This is the artifact of the ancients.” He pulled the

chain with the shining cube off his chest. “It holds the knowledge of the ancients, Telkas.

I am a man, and I forget. This holds knowledge that will never die. My woman had one

as well…”

Telkas turned red. “I broke it by accident on the grave.”

Aleen turned over to spit, holding his arrow wound. “Why would you do that?”

Telkas mumbled. “Well we were being shot at…”

The old priest laughed softly. “No matter. This is for you. Seek the ruins across

the sea. There you may learn how to unlock this.” He passed it into Telkas’s shaking

hand.

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The old man breathed deeply, rasping in his chest. “Remember who you are.

Stories mean nothing unless they lift up the people who hear them. Keep going, young one.” The priest fell still.

Telkas watched as his eyes glazed over, and their light went out.

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CHAPTER XXIII

RISING TENSIONS

Loka lay sleeping in his lodge for some days afterward. All over Valdea and New

Silas, the people were on edge, training and doubling guards and patrols.

For the third morning since the attack, Telkas arose early and walked to the empty valley. As the sun rose, it flooded over the edge of the cliff face, instantly flooding the little stone valley with light. He clasped the cube in his hand. Ever since the first morning he had seen it catch the light, he always wanted to begin each day watching it. As the light caught it, Telkas held it aloft. Thousands of colors instantly exploded all over the ground, shimmering, looking almost like tiny fishes swimming over the surfaces they played across. Each one was made up of inestimable tiny swirling figures. As he watched, he moved the cube back and forth, magnifying some and others, making so tiny as to only be a microscopic ball of light. One day, he would figure out what they meant.

Now, there was work to be done. More than ever, he saw the need for a place of last defense, a more permanent structure, using all his knowledge, he would raise it out of the earth.

A voice called out to him from the valley floor. It was Jaketh.

“Sir, Telkas, I was wondering if I could have a word?”

Telkas slipped the cube into his shirt, and slid down the pile of loose stone. “Do

you ever sleep?” 305

The young hunter wasn’t sure how to respond. “I’m sorry…”

Telkas waved it away as he approached him. “It’s nothing. What did you want to

talk to me about?”

“Have you talked to Jayka?”

He puffed up his chest. “I did. She is training them well. Ever since the attack

they have pledged their lives to protect the Jahe just as much as Silas, I mean New Silas.”

“Is she willing to put guards up here at the west end of this valley?”

The hunter nodded.

Telkas smiled. “Jaketh you work harder than anyone here. How are your boats?”

Jaketh tipped his head, shifting his hair to the side. He had begun to weave it in the style of the Jahe. “They went well, but we have had to put a hold on some of it. A few of the Jahe didn’t want to help us any more.”

Telkas shrugged, crossed his arms. “Their choice. No doubt because of Greth.”

Jaketh pursed his lip. “Is it true he tried to kill you when you brought the chief

home?”

“No. he was angry, but when his scout explained what had happened, Greth let it

go and left. What’s important is that we know more than ever what the enemy is willing

to do to keep us under their control.”

Jaketh nodded. “I would have never believed it.”

Telkas eyed him. “You were only a hunter there for a short while. Who would be

the ones to do those kinds of things?”

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Jaketh considered a moment. “There are many groups of older hunters, who have private caverns. Some of them are related to Ruk the digger, and they all stay together.

The new ones like me aren’t allowed in there.”

Telkas sneered. “Ruk. And I guess Kaldor is part of that?”

“I think so, sir.”

“Thank you, Jaketh.”

The young hunter turned to go.

“And Jaketh? I want you to finish those boats. How many can fit into each one?”

“People? Oh, twenty or thirty. They are made mostly for fish…”

“Thank you Jaketh. Can you make us ten of them?”

“Ten sir, that’s a lot of fish.”

“We may need them for people some day.”

Soon afterwards, Telkas and Rokus called a meeting of the town’s leaders. Jayka and Neeha were there as well, seated in Telkas’s dome at the foot of the valley.

Telkas bowed and acknowledged each one as they came in, Rokus greeted two of his new priests, who were fast becoming the most respected of the new order. There was

Jaketh, A man called Roth who was in charge of the wall building, and several members of the group that oversaw gathering and food preparation. As they began to sat and stare at the odd collection of gadgets and half-completed inventions littering the tables and floor, Telkas walked back to stoke the low fire he had built in the hearth at the back of the room. Even though it was summer, he always liked to keep a blaze going.

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“Welcome everyone.” He turned from the fire to face them. “I know you are all

busy, and I thank you for taking the time to meet with me.” Telkas stepped over to the

circle deliberately and confident, looking each person in the eye. He seemed much more

intense than usual. “We are here because something must be done about the threats from

Silas. As you know, we have reason to be aware now that the fire monsters are not

demons, but creations of the Jordanus and the elders. It is they who have murdered

people, who tried to kill me and Loka, and who murdered the last priest of old Silas. I do

not think these people will stop. If we are to survive this we need to coordinate and plan

for it.”

People around the room exchanged worried glances. One of the cooks, a short

burly man who had evidently once been a digger, spoke up. “I know these people well.

My cousin shared the cavern of the hunters. Telkas is right.”

Jaketh spoke next. His light voice filled the air. “I think so, too. We should figure out a way to defend against these machines that throw fire. And we should train our archers more.”

Jayka raised her palm. “We are already doing that. Neeha and the other archers are getting better every day, and they have already trained with spears. We will have fifty strong soldiers to add to our defenses.”

Telkas smiled to himself. Jayka had not left the village except to visit Loka since the attack. She had slept in a tent, rising and helping to train the soldiers until the sun went down.

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Jayka continued. “Furthermore, with the vision in the dark that the Silasean people are gifted, they will be as good of shots as the enemy will be in the night, and better in the sunlight. Don’t worry. We will be ready when we are needed.”

Jaketh bowed his head lightly to her. “Then we should figure out a way to fight the fires.”

One of the female cooks spoke up. “What makes you think they won’t attack

Valdea?”

Telkas raised his hand. “I’ve thought about that. I think that, like the Vash’jir, they will come for us and not the Jahe. The Jordanus wants to end us as a threat. He sends out hunters to pick off our sentries. We have not seen as many around Jayka’s city.”

“What can we possibly do against the Jordanus? What if he sends out all of the hunters against us?” It was a thin man that Rokus had recently charged with organizing prayer.

The head priest quieted him. “The Jordanus is trying to protect Silas in the best way he knows how. If he finds us a threat, however horrible it may be, I know that he will show restraint.”

Telkas eyed him with a sideways glance. “I’m not so sure. If he burned your group as they left Silas to scare the others into staying, why would he stop short of killing us now?” Rokus said nothing. “Jaketh is right. We have to defend against the fire. I have already talked with Fewald on the matter, and since Loka is not well, he is able to move the Jahe to help.”

Telkas took in the room, gazing this way and that, locking eyes with some of the people therein. “I want to build a cavern.”

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Jayka crossed her arms. “What kind of cavern?”

Telkas arose. “I want to enclose the valley behind the city. It will be a last place of defense, covered over with stone, like these domes. We can make as many of them as there are valleys. Some day it could be a great city, but for now it will be a place of defense. Enclosed, fireproof, a last stand where we can fight off ten times the number of attackers we have.”

Rokus interrupted. “Yes, but shouldn’t we not build such large structures? If you wish to cover the whole valley, well, that’s bigger than anything that has been made since ancient times.”

Telkas quieted him with a raised hand. “Over the last few days as I was sitting up in that canyon, I started thinking. For a long time, people have told us that the ancients were punished for building too much. Maybe the disaster just happened, maybe it was a punishment from the Gods. What are we to say either way?”

The burly cook waved his hand. “But supposing that all of this stuff around us falls in and gets washed up like in the sundering that killed all of the old people?”

Telkas gestured towards the door, out towards the sea. “The sea is already rising.

They’ve blocked passages in Silas to keep it at bay, and the rivers that were once fresh taste like the sea. I think this land will do what it wants to whether we obey the Gods or not.”

Jaketh smirked. “I never liked those old priests back there anyway. Rokus is much better!” Rokus turned a slight shade redder. “Let’s get started.”

Telkas raised his palm. “Is everyone agreed?”

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There was a general murmur of agreement. Telkas noticed that Rokus remained silent, and looked quite uncomfortable.

“Agreed. I’ll go and speak with Fewald and we will see if we can’t begin damming up the front of the valley to fill it with sand. It shouldn’t be too hard because the front entrance is narrow. Everyone else, keep up the good work. We’ve come a long way and haven’t even been here a whole season.”

In Valdea, Telkas was taken to the entrance of Loka’s lodge. There was an air of silent reverence about the whole building. People walked by quickly, bowing their heads and looking away. Telkas took the small stick that the Jahe kept by their doors and rattled carved ribs in the door frame, which reverberated.

Fewald pushed aside the door drape. His eyes were sunken, face drawn. He hadn’t slept in what seemed a long time. “Telkas, come in.” Fewald put his arm around Telkas and pulled him inside. The lights were dim, the white fire in the center flickering between its pale, ghostly color and the normal red-orange of flame. Fewald reached into Loka’s green pouch and sprinkled some of the white material on the fire, which bucked up and then returned to whiteness.

The central chamber was empty. Fewald placed both hands on Telkas’s shoulders.

“What do you need my friend?”

Telkas returned the grasp. “I need you to get some rest.”

Fewald smiled drearily. “No, he needs me.”

“How is he doing?”

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Fewald released Telkas and walked over to the wall, supporting himself. “He was good not too long ago, even got up a few times. But the last two days have been bad. He barely speaks, barely eats. Mumbles off and on. Sometimes I wonder if he recognizes me.” Fewald gazed blankly at the curtain that lead out of the round chamber and to the small chamber where Telkas knew Loka must be laying.

“Fewald, how can we help him?”

“He is in the hands of the Kaleah now. There is little else except comforting him at this point. I guess he was simply too old to have sustained the wound.”

Telkas knew it was coming again.

“So,” Fewald ventured. “How did it happen again?”

Telkas exhaled the tiniest sigh. “We were examining the ruins looking for some kind of information to help us understand what had happened when an arrow struck him out of the blue. There was no sound at all. The hunter burst out, as I told you, and warned us, said that four of the guards were dead. I did what I could for Loka. I just wish we had gone out with more men, or at an earlier time of day.”

“It’s not your fault, Telkas. Those bastards were out to kill, and my father is hard to disagree with. How go the plans for the new cavern?”

Telkas was grateful for the change of subject. “They are ready for an initial dam to be made and sand to be shifted from one side of the project to the other. But, the barricades and systems to move the material are complex. There are a lot of problems to work out with a building of this size.”

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Fewald looked at the ceiling, trying to imagine what Telkas was saying. “I can imagine. Well, we can give you plenty of workers, especially if this place will be as strong as you say it is.”

Telkas raised his hands as if imagining the structure within them. “This place, it will be made of stone so that it can’t be burnt. The only entrance will be through a narrow ravine, and the top will be capped with stone, so that even if they could get to the top of it, which I doubt because of how steep it is, they couldn’t burn it out. We can put holes to shoot arrows from. They might be able to destroy homes, but they won’t expect a cavern made by hand to give a defensive advantage.”

Fewald smiled, clearly impressed. “I don’t know how, Telkas, but every new thing you come up with seems to top the last. But it seems like it will take a long time to build.”

Telkas nodded. “I’m afraid it will. We just have to hold on, give them diversions if possible, until we can get it finished.”

“How long?”

“I’m not sure.”

Fewald tapped his foot once. “Telkas, maybe we should spend the time training, or scouting out Silas. Perhaps we should fight them first. We won’t ever gain an advantage by sitting here.”

“I don’t want an advantage. We just need to figure out a way to be left alone.”

Fewald’s eyes narrowed. “I trust that we will be able to make that happen.”

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They began construction the next day. Clouds filled the sky, and as the long line of people from both cities scrambled up the loose stone, he felt the faint drip of rain. It was the kind, he decided, that would not actually make its mind up to fall. Telkas directed the workers to attach ropes to long series of timber logs that had been cut that morning from the forest. The bottom of the cliff entrance was only a few paces wide, so blocking it off was fairly quick. With stone chisels, and a few of the new ones he had helped the diggers fashion from ore, they cut notches into the stone, fitted timber across, and then stacked more timber behind it. By the end of that day, there was a good barrier that would hold back sand all the way to the top of the cliff, some twenty paces.

Telkas was hot. He had even removed his leather coat that day, a rarity for him.

His stained leather tunic went down only to his knees, and the brace was clearly visible

beneath. As the day grew even warmer, he called everyone off. Silasean and Jahe alike

were caked with dust and scratches from the sharp rock that made them slip at every turn,

but even so they were reluctant to stop. He never understood why they competed and

lined up to help build. It was tough work.

Jayka appeared around the edge of the nearest dome, which happened to be his,

clean and energetic. “You look like you could use a wash.”

“Oh, go away.”

She tossed her braids, adjusted her ever present bow, and leaned against a stack of

logs. “Not in a great mood today?”

Telkas leaned against the logs as well. “Just tired and hot. What have you been

doing?”

“Working with the recruits, as always.”

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Telkas paused, searching about with his eyes. What do you think of all this

Jayka?”

She lowered her voice. “I think you are trying to build your way out of something

again.”

He looked around. Most of the people who were working had gone, there were

only a few people nearby. In fact, the fat digger-turned-cook that he could never

remember was busy ladling fish stew out for many of them out of his charred log

cauldron.

Telkas stared for a long time at his construction. “Jayka this place has real advantages for defense. We could really capitalize on it. I mean, just look at this place.”

He swung himself up on the woven ladder and hauled himself to the top.

Jayka exhaled, watching him go. “What happens if they decide to come

tomorrow?”

Telkas laughed. “We will be no better off then. But when this gets done we will

be unstoppable.”

Jayka climbed after him, swiftly putting foot after foot, ascending in half the time

it had taken him. They sat together on the top of the barrier.

The clouds were growing darker, losing the illumination of the sun behind their

thick curtain. Mottled shadows played across the gravel floor of the valley, now enclosed

by a thick layer of wood at one end, and the height of the valley at the other. It looked

oddly like one of the Jahe fishing boats, long and narrow, cut from an old log. Excepting

the high ledge, of course.

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Jayka put her hand on his shoulder. It startled him, for this was very unlike her.

“Telkas, I feel like we are weak right now. We have to be very careful if we are to

survive. What if they decided to try and burn the villages down tomorrow?”

Telkas waved his hand. “What makes you so worried?”

“Think about it. Loka is dying. Fewald is constantly by his side. The only one in

Valdea who is paying attention to defense is Greth.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, rubbing the rough hewn edge of the fresh log

beneath his legs. “And you think that no one is doing it here either?”

“You aren’t. You’re building this thing that could take moons to go up, to be

defensible. It sounds great. It sounds like nothing I’ve heard of before. But what about the

short term? What about now?”

“That’s what I have you here for. What about your archers?” he saw her clench

her hands. She was getting angry.

“They have only had a week’s time to train. They can shoot stationary objects. I just hope that there are enough of them to send more arrows than there will be enemies.”

Telkas stood up, wobbling slightly before steadying himself. He had planned to

stand up in anger, but the balance issue mollified his emotions. “I’m going to build us a

place to be that will never be breached, that we can truly feel safe in.”

Jayka got to her feet angrily, gripping the bow still slung over her back. “You already did that. No place will be safe forever. You’re just walling yourself up in the imagination that this is going to save us!”

“And why shouldn’t it?”

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“Because we can strengthen the defenses we have, now. Eventually we are going

to have to fight them. We can’t just hide forever.”

“It’s not hiding. I’m trying to make decisions for all of us to prevent death!”

She drew her bow and smacked it against the wooden wall. “You don’t make

decisions for all of us Telkas. But right now you are the one who can, because the others

are overcome with sickness and grief. Help to prepare them for battle instead of making

this place. Because, if you don’t, every one of us will burn.”

Telkas realized that people had begun to come out of their domes far below. They

were staring curiously up the twenty paces that they had climbed, in full view of the city.

Over the moons since they had started it had slowly grown in an arc as the domes were

slowly completed. He didn’t even need to show them how, with the skills of the old

diggers they had picked up the technique very quickly. Some of the roadways had even

begun to be filled with stone. Even further beyond the city’s walls, at the edge of a small

river usually hidden to his vision from lower down, Telkas saw Jaketh and a few others working on their ships.

He turned away from the town and her, towards the ladder. He started walking, then paused. Without turning, he said in a low voice, “I’ve done too much and let go of too much in my life to lose this place. I’ll defend it with my brain, and not with an arrow, if I can help it.” Telkas descended the ladder without another word to her. As he reached the bottom and walked to his dome, he looked up to see that she was still watching him.

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CHAPTER XXIV

MASTERPIECE

“Hold, hold!”

Telkas tried to yell over the terrible grating noises, but all he could manage to do was wave his arms frantically as the team of some fifty realized he wanted the stone to stop there. It was huge.

As the top of the valley was made of the same stone that split off in pieces, it had been easier than expected to cut them in blocks. In a few places they had had to beat in wooden spikes with mallets and wet them with water to let them expand (an old trick that a few of the diggers had taught him for cutting rock), but overall it was easy going. The only hard part, other than piling up the huge amounts of gravel and sand from one half of the valley to another (they used large baskets), was cutting the huge center stone. It was almost as big as he was, and as wide again.

They had finally figured out how to move it from the suggestion of an old man, who had remembered moving stone steps in Silas by rolling them on logs. Once they had all the people hooked up to it, it was simple to balance it atop and roll it to the front of the valley.

Now, it laid a mere pace or two from the two sides of the arch, which had been

built onto the rock edges of the canyon itself. That way, the arch only had to be about six

paces wide instead of the entire height of the valley. 318

The workers were gathered all around the stone, having reached the limit of room to pull in. Telkas signaled to two diggers who were perched on two logs sticking away from the top of the wooden wall, which had had to be braced with huge logs sticking into the ground (and getting in the way of his dome doorway, to his irritation).

These two logs were special. They had notches in their ends, and each digger held large bowls of water in his hand. Telkas called for the ropes, they were thrown to these two men, and fitted into the notches before they threw them back. Afterwards, both stout men poured water onto the ends of the logs.

“Just as we talked about earlier.”

Now, he two teams of pullers took the ropes, and at Telkas’s count, began pulling them backwards.

The stone moved.

Come on, together!” He yelled. The stone slid up the ramp and slowed. ‘Once more.” The teams tugged again, the diggers poured water over the smoking rope and logs. The rock slid up and over the ramp, settling into the notch cut for it. Telkas smiled.

The team cheered. Telkas looked at them. There were short stout people who had been Silasean diggers bowing and nodding to Jahe seam menders, with their long thick leather aprons, and Jahe hunters clasping arms with the few hunters left from Silas. (They were invariably younger, and had not been around people like Kaldor long enough to be corrupted with hate.)

He crossed his arms, a huge grin over his face. If it was this easy to place the first arch, then the place could go up in no time.

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Then, a tremendous crack split the air, scaring them all. Everyone looked around at one another.

Telkas looked at the stone, trying to discern what had happened. “Is everyone okay? Get back from the edge there.” He shouted, motioning the diggers back. They did as he asked, scrambling to get away from the heights.

One of them grunted. “Never did like bein up high there. Little too much for me, sir.”

“You did great. Couldn’t have asked for anyone better to do the job.”

The digger’s chest swelled with pride.

Telkas raised his hands to get their attention. “I think we did amazing here today everybody. I need to look at the walls, it may have just been settling into place. But I think just to be on the safe side everyone should get down off the wall for today.”

That evening, the center square was lit up with the fires surrounding the newly placed glowstone. It shimmered with light as Telkas sat in the warm air at the huge table that had remained there after the feast. He was sitting with the men and women whose job it was to travel down near the shore and gather grain. Ever since the night of the feast they had been tinkering with the frothy liquid. Now they had come out with dried gourds full of the stuff. They were acting funny, off balance at every turn, and slow to speak.

Telkas couldn’t help but laugh at them as he ate his stew. For a moment he looked away from them as he chewed. He wondered how Jayka had been doing. He saw her out in front of the city every morning, working with Neeha and the archers. They were gaining skill every day.

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He would go to see Loka. That was the answer. Heleft his stew where it was and gathered himself together, and made his way to the gate.

At guard were two young men of Jayka’s archer company. One of them raised his spear. “Oh, sir, wait. Jayka gave strict orders that you need to have someone with you if you are to leave the town, for protection, you know.”

“I need no one’s protection.” Telkas stormed out, but felt a tinge of regret for his harsh words. He couldn’t for anything understand why he was so angry. Wasn’t everything going well? Except for the cracked top stone. He had known that it cracked; he just didn’t want the workers to feel badly. After looking at their faces, he hadn’t known how to tell them that the whole thing would collapse if they lifted the shutters that released the sand further back into the valley. He would fix that, too.

He padded softly through the night, making his way through the forest pathway, which was more like a road now, having been trodden well by traffic back and forth between New Silas and Valdea. They traded, they built homes. Telkas had mused over plans to build guard houses for Valdea out of stone that were fireproof to give advance warning of an attack. They had built so much.

His hand went to a small bundle in his coat. It was the old goggles he had made while in the blasted lands, just out of Silas. He had taken to carrying it, thinking about that old foreman on the ancient slab of clear matter, etched with white lines. All of the things he had dreamed about, building, making a new place for people, nearly all of it had happened. He was building an enormous monument to the ancients, something that would be the answers to all of their problems. In there they would never have to resort to the endless cycle of blood. Everything would be different.

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In the distance he caught sight of the fires in Valdea. The old timber wall had just grown visible in between the trees, crowning the tops of the blue and purple ferns in front of him.

He was about to turn the corner of the roadway and walk out into the open when he fell over. Looking about, he rolled onto his back, and rubbed his good leg which had smacked into the hard packed earth. He leaned on an elbow and rested his hand on his head. “What in the stones was that?” he said to no one. He looked around but there was nothing that would have caused him to trip. He leaned to hoist himself up when it happened again.

The shaking was stronger this time; he could feel the earth rocking beneath him.

Trees swayed; from Valdea came the high pitched scream of a woman. Telkas leapt to his feet and ran as fast as he could. The city came into better sight and he saw a few plumes of smoke rising from within the walls. He rushed up to the inlaid gates, raising his hands, yelling “Friend, Friend,” but the guards were not there, having run in to help.

People were running about wildly, trying to carry buckets of water and blankets.

Telkas saw that some of the houses had collapsed, the fires within were beginning to catch the debris on fire. Here and there people were being pulled from wreckage.

Telkas began to yell. “Is everything all right? Is anyone hurt?”

A rough voice chided him. “We are tougher than you think, underworlder. What brings you over here?”

Telkas turned to find Greth. He had a fresh tunic on, for once, and was armed with his huge black bow and knife. Telkas took a step backwards. “I came to pay my respects to the chief.”

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Greth raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You will find him in his home, as before. It has

survived this shaking, unlike my own.”

“I’m sorry it was destroyed.”

Greth laughed, throwing his head back. His eyes were strangely excited. “I have

nothing important in it, boy. Nothing left.”

Telkas turned to go.

“Seen anything of those sneaking bastards lately?”

Telkas paused in his steps. “Nothing that I know of. Jayka is seeing to the scouting.”

Greth took a swig of water from his waterskin. Behind him, the flames from an out of control blaze lit his silhouette. “I forgot you are building an even bigger house for yourself.”

Telkas clenched his hand tight.

“Keep building, boy. And see to our chief. I will handle things here.”

Telkas walked a few steps, and then turned to face Greth. But the man had vanished into the maze of people. Most of the fires had gone out, and people were being cared for. Telkas briefly thought of trying to help, but he needed to see Loka, and Fewald.

Besides, the chief might also need help.

When he arrived the stick used to announce himself had vanished. He looked about for it on the floor before walking into the dwelling. It was completely silent, the hearth at its center dim. Shading his eyes to remove the glare from the firelight outside, he stepped inside. “Hello?”

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A faint response came from within the veiled inner chamber. “Here, we are in

here.”

Telkas hesitated to comply. He felt the stone on the floor through his worn

sandals, everything seemed cold and black. One by one, he put foot in front of foot until

he placed his hand at the curtain. Telkas took a deep breath and passed the barrier.

The inner chamber was small, only four or five paces deep. The walls were arched

like the rib bones of some giant animal. They were intricately carved in between with the

same spirals that adorned most of Valdea, with small shelves of wood interspersed along

the entirety. All manner of artifacts and odds were spread along them, with the largest

above the back of the bed reserved for the giant spiral of history that Telkas had seen a

long time before. At the center was a bed of grasses, covered with animal skins. On it laid

the haggard form of Loka. Fewald knelt by his side.

The chief’s son looked up as he entered. “Telkas. How are you my friend?”

Telkas looked at him. He was tired, and as evidenced by the skins piled on the floor, the little sleep he had gotten must have been there, on the floor.

Telkas bowed. “I’m concerned for your people. That quaking caused some damage to the city.”

Fewald nodded. “It also seems to have awakened my father.”

Sure enough, the old man’s eyes fluttered. He seemed to be trying to speak.

Fewald leaned in to hear.

Through the cracked lips, the old man whispered, “Leave me.”

Fewald shook his head, grasping the old man’s hands. “I won’t leave you. You have to get better.”

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Loka gurgled, then coughed, a slow quiet sound. “Go. They need you. Learn… from me. My son.”

Fewald stood, still gripping his father’s hand. I have, father, I have learned much from you.”

Loka opened his eyes, they were tinged with yellow from his great age. In fact, he seemed to have aged years in the moon since his injury. “My sons, you were put here because something great is about… to happen. Come here.”

Telkas stepped forward as well.

The old man tried to lean forward; Fewald propped his head up with blankets.

“The old worlds are changing. Nothing is what it seemed. Telkas you must listen to… what Aleen spoke.”

Telkas pulled back in surprise as Fewald glanced at him; his hand went to the cube still under his shirt.

Loka coughed, spitting a little blood. Fewald’s eyes ached; he grabbed a small cloth that already had blood on it and gently wiped his father’s mouth.

“Father, hush now, don’t over work yourself.”

The old hand gripped Fewalds with surprising strength. “No. The time is soon here. You must let go of… yourselves. Of me, of your fears.”

Fewald dropped his head.

Telkas knelt by the bedside. “Chief, I, I don’t know what else to do. I am doing my best.”

“Don’t think about the now, as I did. There must also be the future in… your actions.”

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“I don’t understand, I am trying to build a place for the future.”

“Look to the dawn. Follow the words of…the priest.”

Fewald began to cry. “Father.”

“I will always love you, my son. But you must go to the people now. Lead them, give them the care you have me. Work with Telkas. Together you can do what I never could. Carry on…”

Though the eyes didn’t close, they both watched the light fade from them. Fewald dropped his head to the bedside, and gripped the hand of his dead father.

They sat like that for some time. In the city outside, they heard the calm murmurings of people going about fixing damages, offering lodging to displaced families. Finally, Fewald passed his hand over the eyes of Loka, and walked deliberately out of the room, as if he forced each foot against its will to move. Telkas gave one last look to the chief. He looked peaceful, his white hair flowing in loose knots around his shoulders, hands clasped over his chest.

Telkas walked in to meet Fewald. He stood, one hand against the doorway to the outside, one holding the curtain back. The firelight played off his chestnut hair. He seemed bigger somehow to Telkas. Chest out, he looked more his old self again.

“Telkas, we are in a bad place here. There’s been a lot of damage.” Telkas peered out as well. A section of wall had fallen in where parts of the earth had actually sunk. “I wonder if this has to do with your prediction of the sea rising. But what if it isn’t rising?”

Telkas’s eyes widened. “The land is sinking?”

Fewald dropped the curtain. “I am not sure. And I don’t know everything about

Aleen. Or of the cube my father spoke of.”

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Telkas reached into his tunic and pulled it out. In the dark room it still shone dimly, as if it were sucking in the tiniest rays of light no matter it’s location and shooting them back out into space. “I don’t know what it is, Fewald. But it somehow holds knowledge. Aleen talked of ruins over the water, towards the sun, that I needed to search for. He was intense about me leaving. It was his last thought.”

“There has to be more. There has to be a reason.”

“If there is I don’t know what it is. And he wanted me to take the Silaseans with him.” Telkas looked up as the realization hit him. “New Silas! The quake.” His emotions twisted inside of him. He hadn’t been there. What if the stones fell in? The domes?”

Fewald stepped through the doorway, holding the curtain. “I’ll gather some hunters to home help. You go now.”

Telkas grasped Fewald’s forearm. “Are you alright?”

Fewald sighed. “I will have to be. My father was right. It’s my job to take care of the Jahe now. I need to be strong for them. After all, if I am not then who is going to take my place?”

The brace clicked madly as Telkas ran; his breath grew heavy and his chest felt tight. He emerged through the trees, panting, and got his first glimpse of the city. All the fires were dark.

He ran further, approaching the walls. And heard laughter. More slowly he approached the walls, nearing the gate.

A voice called out to him in the night. “Who’s there?” It was Jayka.

Telkas had to pause a moment to catch his breath, and then leapt sideways as an arrow lodged next to him in the dirt. “It’s me, it’s me.” He cried hurredly.

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Her dark face and hair peeked over the timber wall. “Well why didn’t you say something instead of breathing all over the ground. Besides I thought you didn’t need anyone to help you get through the dark. Now you can’t even get here without being winded.”

He scowled at her. “Is everyone alright?”

Jayka paused for a second. “You mean from the shaking? The cook was burned a little because his pot fell over. We were laughing at him because somehow a whole fish got caught in his tunic.”

Telkas stared. “No one was hurt?”

“No. Why?”

“Valdea had a lot of damage. No one really hurt, it seems, but some of the buildings collapsed. I was afraid…”

Jayka laughed again, but a little less confidently. “I guess your rock stuff held up.” She stepped down from the wall descending small pegs cut in the wood from the narrow platform as he walked in, panting. “Everyone is alright?”

“Yes. But the city is a mess.”

“You have more refugees, by the way.”

Telkas nodded, then looked back up at her smirk. “What?”

“Another underworlder showed up. Back at your dome now.”

Telkas frowned. “Not a spy?”

She looked upwards, mocking thought. “I don’t think so. No. You will see.”

“Alright. I’ll get to it.”

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CHAPTER XXV

AFTERMATH

Telkas walked through New Silas; looking back and forth, he realized that there really was almost no damage at all. The wall was in place, the domes were intact. Chairs and pots had fallen over here and there, but otherwise the place looked unchanged. As he

stepped into the dome, he chuckled to himself. His city had worked out better than

anything he could have hoped for. Perhaps he would have to build domes for Valdea

now.

Looking up, he saw the figure of a young woman, her dark hair flowing down her shoulders. In her arms was a baby, cooing.

“Jestea.” Telkas opened his eyes wide. It certainly was her. She looked as slender as he remembered, but sadder, older. Maybe with more worries. “How… what?”

She spread into a slow tired smile. “I’ve been travelling for days, following the wagon tracks.” He looked at her and saw that she was still beautiful. Her slender form was hidden beneath a leather tunic and the white shirt she wore beneath, but he knew it well.

Telkas grinned. “Is this the little one?”

She smiled, stroking a tiny finger with hers. The little blue eyes searched curiously about the room. “It is. He’s only a moon old.”

Telkas gasped. “So young? How did you get him here?” 329

“I had to be careful, travel in the night. It wasn’t so terrible after I figured out that

the tracks followed a road.”

Telkas guffawed nervously. “I wish that that had been there when I left the first

time. What’s his name?”

“Mathas. Would you like to meet him?” She walked to him, slowly the baby

stretched his hands out toward Telkas.

Telkas tried to suppress a bigger grin but couldn’t help himself. He touched the

baby’s head, felt his feather soft hair, his warm skin. Mathas giggled. “Why now? Why

did you come now, after what happened before? After the danger we went through?”

She pulled her hair behind her ears. “It’s a long story.” She bit her lip, and he

could tell that she was debating moving closer to him. “I, I thought that I was doing the

right thing. For him, for me. For us, even. I know that Ruk would have hunted me down,

Telkas. I have his son.”

He gestured for her to take a seat at the table, and took one himself. The soft light

from the window film accentuated her features, sharpening the dip of her nose, alighting

the rise of her cheek.

“What did you plan to do. Ruk is still the same man now that he was, Jestea.”

She stroked her son’s head. Cradling him close, she looked up at him, head down.

“Do you want me to be here?”

A pained look came across his face. “It’s not that. You know I do. I hated leaving you behind. But you left me no choice, with the baby. It would have given them a reason to follow us. How do you know that it hasn’t happened again?”

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She held Mathas, bouncing him in her lap softly. “I know he won’t because Ruk has told me he will take another wife.”

Telkas froze. “Another wife? What do you mean?”

“He has sent me away from him for some moons now. I had the baby alone. He accused me of having the baby with you, Telkas. He said that Mathas was poisoned, that

I wanted to leave with him because you are the father.”

Telkas shook his head. “But you know that isn’t true. We never, um…”

She laughed, a light sound that Telkas had forgotten. In spite of what they were talking about, he felt happy just to see her. “No. he lied. But he sent me away and I lived in an older cavern with some of the weaver women for a while now, until it got to be too dangerous.”

“Too dangerous.”

She stayed still for a long moment, holding Mathas and humming to him.

“Jestea?”

“They have been sending people out for the demons to kill. Killing those who don’t believe in Silas. Hunting us down. Ihad to wait until a lot of the hunters came home. The Jordanus brought them back to defend and to help the diggers block off the caves that are rising. And while they were distracted I left.”

“Wait, hold on. Caves rising?”

“The water.” She gazed up at him, sending a shiver down his body.

He tried to regain composure, sound serious. “The water?”

“In the caves, the grotto, where the river Runding begins, Telkas… they are underwater. There are no more fish. And the passages rise every day.”

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The giddiness left him. “That high?”

She nodded. “Every time the earth shakes.”

“Then he can’t keep them down there any longer. And there was a huge quake today.”

“Every day the Jordanus talks of the foods you stole from us, how you are using your plans from the old ones to fill our caves with water. Anyone that speaks up is thrown to the monsters.”

Telkas slammed his hand down, making her jump, and the little one start to cry.

“Jestea, there are no monsters! Nothing. The Jordanus had the old priests build a secret tunnel to hold machines that throw fire and death. They weren’t killed in a cavern collapse. They lived at the base of the huge falls.”

Her eyes perked up, and she rubbed the baby’s back to quiet him. “The thundering water?”

“Yes. I—I met one. He told me about the attack. Told me it was the Jordanus. He is the one who has been impaling our own people. Burning them to death.”

Her mouth fell open. “No, why would he do such a thing?”

“To keep control. To keep fear going.”

She leaned back against the table. “I can’t believe that.”

Telkas stood up, quelling rage. “Jestea, we’ve let this hold us back before. You have to believe that the Jordanus is the enemy, even after what you have seen. You must!”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. I just know that I want to be safe.”

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Telkas softened, he saw her bring her knees up to her chest, baby Mathas on top.

She looked so small.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you anymore.” He sat next to her.

Jestea leaned her head on Telkas’s shoulder. “Do you want to hold him?”

Telkas, caught off guard, only nodded. She lifted the bundle, wrapped tightly in brown cloth, and placed it in his hand. Mathas smelled like sweet milk and newness. He looked at the boys fat little face. He was so bright, so warm. His little mouth broke into a toothless grin. Telkas smiled back through his ever present scruff and sun browned face, and lifted the bundle for a closer look. A tiny hand grabbed at his rough chin. “Hello,

Mathas.”

From outside there was a cacophony of sudden voices. Telkas looked up. Handing the baby back to her, he walked to the wooden door. Looking outside, he saw guards rushing out along the upper wall, led by Jayka, tall, shouting and waving her bow around to direct orders. Beyond the wall, the entire forest was populated by hundreds of balls of flaming light. Whispers of voices drifted over the clearing. Silas had come.

He whirled around. “Jestea, did they know you left?”

She leaned back onto the dome for support. “N-No, they couldn’t have known. I trusted a close friend to take care of it until I could return.”

“What do you mean return?”

She sighed. “I would have to go back. I wanted to bring you Mathas, Telkas.” She snuggled him close. “They might have hurt him. If I told them I gave birth and he died later, then no one would know.”

“But Jestea, why would you go back?”

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She said nothing.

“Well, you may not have to walk so far. Silas is here.” He opened the door fully to reveal the lighted forest.

She shrank away in fear. “Telkas, why are they here? Did they follow me?”

“I don’t know. Stay here and close the door until I come back and get you.” He thrust himself out into the cool night air, grabbing his staff, and bolting the door behind.

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CHAPTER XXVI

WAR

It only took him minutes to reach the barricade. Jayka was standing, all of her archers at the walls, and assorted other citizens of New Silas with spare spears and arrows and bows. She held her stone knife and bow in one hand.”There you are.” She snarled as he mounted the narrow wall. The barricade reached to their stomachs. “I sent a boy to fetch you minutes ago.”

“I came on my own.”

They surveyed the landscape. The gate was to their right, and on either side,

Silasean archers craned their heads, bows at the ready, a perfect curved line atop the wall like the bristling teeth of a Scrak. In the forests, voices cried out viciously. It send a chill up Telkas’s spine.

“Where did the bastards come from? How did Valdea let them get by without sending scouts to warn us?”

“The quake was rough. I only got here just ahead of Fewald.” Telkas felt a shock.

“Fewald!”

She looked at him.

“He was supposed to follow me here. He might be out there. What if they caught him?”

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“Hold on, Telkas. I doubt that they caught Fewald in his own forest. And even if

they did we can’t help him.”

Telkas strained through the darkness, searching for his friend.

“We are on our own.”

He shook his head. “No, we need their help. We have to find out what is going on over there. What if Valdea is under attack as well?”

She considered, nodding. “Neeha?”

Swiftly padded feet ran up the ladder. “Yes, mam?” Neeha wore feathers in her newly braided hair, hanging from the tips. She had dirt rubbed on her skin. Telkas eyed her in surprise.

“Get over the wall and make it to Valdea. Find out their situation and report back as soon as you can.”

Without a word, she stripped from her thick blue leather jerkin, revealing a simple brown tunic. She tossed her bow and knife, and handed her spear to Telkas. Deftly, she leapt over the wall. Telkas looked over in surprise, watching her land and neatly roll to absorb the impact.

Jayka smiled. “Ten pace drop. I didn’t even teach her that.”

Telkas tipped his head to the side. “Not bad.”

They ducked as a flaming inferno hurtled past them, crashing into the stone dome a few paces behind the wall. A woman screamed, running out of the building, unhurt.

Telkas watched as the fire around the building burned the foods and wooden goods around it.

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“Put that out.” Someone yelled, and from the center of the road, Telkas noticed a large container of water brought out inside an old tree trunk.

Jayka pointed. “They come.”

There was a long line of archers, some with long knives, others with bows.

Jeering, they stepped out of the forest. There were hundreds, probably all of Silas was emptied. Telkas’s heart sank.

Behind them, perhaps ten machines, taller than a man, were pushed out. They had four wheels, a tall tower, and arms holding some type of basket holding a fire. As Telkas watched, two hunters pulled the front of the tower, hurtling the basket upwards and releasing the burning ball.

“Get down!”

It exploded along the front of the wall, and several archers began to scream. They rolled on the ground, some falling off while others brought water from other wooden troughs. The front of the wall continued to burn.

Jayka raised her hand. “Notch arrows!”

Half ducking behind logs and posts of the wall, the archers drew, raising the bows up to give them long range. “Loose.”

The attackers were yelling at the burning guards. But even their dark eyes could not see the dark arrows hurtling towards them silently in a black sky. A long line of them went down, hissing and crying in agony. More of the contraptions loosed their fire upon the city.

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The world around Telkas exploded, he saw fire singe and explode. Flames licked

at his coat. He looked up to see Jayka coughing, pointing, shouting orders, archers firing.

He saw her draw back her great bow and let fly an arrow half as tall as she was.

From beyond the wall he heard a strange mingled roar, the sounds of screaming,

people fighting, running towards the closed gate.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to prevent a fight, to protect

them. As he lay coughing he patted out his burning pants and jacket. Down below, fire

was burning in the city. He rose, wobbly, and made his way down the stairs.

“Had enough?” Jayka stood with her hand at hip.”

“We need to get the ones who can’t fight up behind the wooden barricade. There they might be safe from fire. Don’t worry, I’ll be back to help.”

She nodded, then turned and ducked, narrowly missing an arrow. “Looks like they are in range. It’s a good thing they have short bows!”

All around him people were yelling. In the center of the village, around the glowstone, too far for the flames to reach, He found a lot of people gathered around

Rokus.

“Rokus, we have to get them up behind the barricade. They can’t reach us there.

Gather anyone who can’t fight and take them up the ladders. And get Jestea from my

Dome.”

Rokus, who’s face was white, swallowed and bowed. He looked terrified but he began to call for people to follow him.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. A few strong men and women stood at the center, mostly diggers. “Everyone, Silas has attacked. There are no demons, only

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hatred. Gather what weapons you have. People from a place that we once called our

home have come here to kill us. They want to kill our families, take our new lives and

burn them to ashes. If we value any of this, we have got to fight for our very lives. To the

walls.”

Telkas directed them to run out, among them were old people and young people,

barely a trained fighter. But for some reason, they seemed less scared than he thought

they would. They followed orders obediently, setting up logs behind the gates, grabbing

bows and ascending the stairs, looking to him for command.

He could have done so many things differently.

He heard a low, crackling voice call out over the field, amidst the wailing of the wounded and the flickering flame.

“Purge this place!”

It was him.

Telkas practically flew up the stairway, to the right side of the main gate. Past the

high wall, he saw him.

Out of the range of the archers, just out of the forest floor, The Jordanus stood in a cart pulled by some ragged looking Silaseans. His robes were light and clean, and he spread his clawed fingers, waving a long staff and shouting at the men around him. “Kill them all. Kill them. They take your food, flood your caves, and now, steal your very women!”

Not far off, Ruk stood, barking orders on a fury. Immediately Telkas guessed what had happened. They had let her go.

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Just as she had feared from the beginning, they had used her disappearance as a final straw, the one that sent their hunters out of the deep, to defeat their enemy. Through the burning day, over the wild lands. To kill him. To kill all of them.

He could have found them another place to live, kept running. Never stop.

The lines of archers advanced through the burning field, firing, kneeling, firing again. The machines continued to hurl fire into the city, each bolt alighting the sky and obscuring the stars. Archers continued to fall from the walls, but the tall bows of the blue archers did their work, powering through the air and laying low many hunters. Telkas looked to the side; a young woman notched, aimed, and fired. A single tear dropped down her cheek.

“Telkas.” It was Jayka. “You’ve got to take some archers towards the cliff. There is another big group of them over there.” He shaded his eyes. Another machine had reached the area, and in the night he could see dark shapes running through the field, nearing the wall where only a few archers fired at them.

“I will.” He gathered a few of the archers, and some of the new ones who had never really fired, and ran along the walkboard, dodging elbows of archers and hurrying to fight them back.

That side of the wall was nearly empty, but a good fifty enemies approached him.

He ordered them to start firing, as a volley of dark arrows thudded into them. One cut his coat to the shoulder, he winced in pain. A young hunter-turned archer went down, blood pouring over his blue tunic. Cursing, Telkas snatched his bow from the lifeless form.

I could have surrendered. I could have never left Silas.

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He drew his arrow and aimed. He saw a familiar form look back and forth. It was

Kaldor. These must be his archers. Telkas aimed and fired.

The arrow totally missed the target, instead slamming into the machine, hitting the ball of fire about to launch into the area of supports holding the wall back. It exploded to screams, and cries as more defending arrows cut into them. Telkas looked to the main gate; swarms of enemy hunters piled against it, driving one of the launchers against the gates, which cracked with every hit. He gripped the shoulder of a young fighter; to his surprise it was Jaketh. “You must take charge here. Hold them back from this part of the wall. Remember our families are behind that wall hidden in the valley.”

Jaketh nodded smartly, shouting he directed several archers to turn their bows.

Telkas ran off into the wall. Flames were raging in the city, burning anything not made of stone. The walls were alight in several places. He saw the diggers, and many women and other fighters gathered around the gate, brandishing spears and sharpened stakes. He ran, leg clicking, staff up in the air. All around him on the wall fires burned and people fought, and died. “Hold up, don’t give in. Fight for your lives!”

I could have saved their lives.

He was nearly to the wall, when a massive explosion sent him flying back into the city. Luckily, he landed on a pile of brush which had not entirely burnt up. He was ten paces from the front gate when it smashed in from the impact of the machine’s wheels.

Some in the front ranks were crushed, some in the back, ran for their lives. Telkas knew that they would be slaughtered if they gave up. He could hear the Jordanus’s blood crazed voice howling outside.

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He felt himself rise up. His arm was cut, he let the blood flow down his coat.

Plucking his staff up, he limped to the gate. “Hold firm, fighters. Fight for your lives. We

can’t stop now, not after all this.” He gripped the shoulder of a man brandishing a spear,

terrifieds, waiting for the hunters to break through. “Don’t be afraid, we can beat them.

Their way of living is done. Fight!”

He brandished his staff as more of the townspeople rallied to him.

In a flash, the hunters broke through. A volley of arrows threw down the front line of defenders. Soon it came to hunting blades and spears, as Jayka’s archers turned their murderous fire onto the breach in the wall. Savage blows were meted out by the defending spears, longer than the enemy weapons, but they were outnumbered. They were pushed away from the entrance. Telkas struck a blow with his staff, square on the head of an advancing hunter.

He called up to the blue archers. “Jayka, we cannot hold them! Fall back from the walls.” She looked and saw what he said was true; although the spears and spikes were killing many, the sheer numbers of the soldiers and the burning walls made it hard for her to cover him, and they were going to be surrounded. She gave orders to fall back to the center of the village.

Telkas gave the same, and in what seemed like hours, but was in fact minutes, they fell back dome by dome.

I should have killed them all. Poisoned their food. I should have taken her with me even though she didn’t want to.

He brought down his staff with another sickening crack on a hunter. They were in

lines, brandishing spears and hacking house by house, forming barricades with the

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wooden tables, out of the reach of the fire. Jayka and her archers lined up behind.

Suddenly, the hunters disappeared into the dark.

A voice called out among the moans of the wounded. “Are you still there, boy?”

I should have killed you a long time ago.

“Jordanus. What do you want with us?”

The old man called out from somewhere hidden, as Telkas hid behind the thick banquet table. The glowstone shone behind him.

“I want you to die.”

“I’ve known that for a long time. You want everything that isn’t like you to die.”

“I fight for our lives, boy. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that I come here for revenge. I know who it is that floods the tunnels, who drives us out and kills our fish. I know you take our women and why we starve.”

Telkas fought to keep himself behind the table. “Is that why you burn your own people? You think we try to trick you to leave, and so you kill those who want to go?”

“I only aim to purify. We are the true people, we hold the tradition of the ancients.

It is I who have given us our traditions back, who have kept the people safe. These warriors have taken great evils upon themselves to fight the necessary fights. Even if it means great pain. That is the price of salvation!”

“What are they doing?” Jayka crawled over next to him.

Telkas peered through a crack. “Stalling for something. If they could they would kill us all right now, but they don’t have their fire. We need to figure out what is going on outside.”

“You wonder about Neeha, and if they will come?”

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The Jordanus continued his tirade. “Are you there, boy?”

Telkas gripped his wounded arm and winced. “We can’t rely on that now. Listen, if we can draw them up the side of that barricade, the top stone is cracked. I bet the whole thing will come down on them if we do. Jaketh can’t hold that side forever with the wall, and if it falls, we’re done for. Archers on that wall can cut us to bits.”

Jayka nodded almost with a snap.

“We must fall back to the top of the barricade.”

“Climbing that will make us sitting ducks.”

“We’ll cover with archers, and the last ones at the base can escape over the wall with Jaketh. We can move through the mountains and meet on the top of the falls.”

“Done.” Orders were passed like lightning, and slowly the soldiers moved backwards over the tables and behind the domes until they were gathered at the base of the wooden barrier.

Now to get them over. Telkas leaned up over the table they had carried over. The hunters had begun to emerge from the dark. He grabbed the bow and let an arrow fly. A cry meant that it had met its mark. “If you are coming to kill us, then do it. I’m not going to wait here all day.”

“As you wish, boy.”

Sounds of battle ensued, increasing from the top of the wall where jaketh continued to fight. The first of them began to ascend the ladders. Jayka ordered the archers to raise and fire.

A long line of arrows slashed into the darkness, silencing the enemy archers who stepped out to pick them off.

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More were away. Soon, nearly half of them were up the ropes and onto the other

side.

I wonder if we will make it out alive. Who will care for Jestea? Where is Fewald?

As Telkas prepared to send another group up the wall, he noticed that Jaketh’s archers were falling back from the wall.

They would be pinned down. Hurriedly he rushed them upwards. Jaketh bounded over to him, dodging arrow shots.

Angrily, Telkas gripped his collar. “What happened?”

“We are almost out of arrows, and—most of us have been killed.” He was breathing heavily. “What do we do?”

Telkas gripped his shoulder, bleeding and grinning. “We take as many of them with us as we can, and give the families time to escape.”

Jaketh’s face fell.

“What is it?”

“Oh nothing sir. I’m ready.”

“Really. What?”

“I’ll not get to try my boats.”

Telkas clasped his forearm to Jakeths. “They were great boats, weren’t they?”

Jaketh smiled.

“Now let’s get to it. I’ll be damned if I let these bastards use my dome.”

From behind tables as Jaketh’s archers retreated, they raised and fired. Jayka was struck deep in the leg. He had never seen her cry out, but as she sank to the ground he

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heard her growl, and saw the deep red blood seep from her wound. He ripped a leather band from his coat and bound it tight. She drew her knife. There were barely a dozen of them left behind the tables.

“We die tonight, underworlder.” She gripped the knife in her teeth, and snapped the arrow off at the skin.

Telkas grabbed her hand and pulled her up. “Then let’s die the way you would like.”

All I want to do is go home. I wish I could be in Jaketh’s boat across the water. I wish that Jestea and I had a dome in the mountains, and I was free.

He pulled her up and set her against a table so she could still fire.

An arrow lodged deep into Telkas’s shoulder, forcing him to drop his bow. His vision went hazy for a second, and he nearly passed out from the deadening grip of pain.

A hunter’s face appeared over the table, then slumped over. In his back was a blue tipped feather.

A cry sounded out from behind the attackers, and sounds of whooping and whistling rode the wind. The tide rolled back from the tables, but still pressed them hard.

Over top of them, Telkas saw a face, scarred and furious. It was Greth.

“Thought we would leave you to die?”

Telkas grinned. “It occurred to me.”

Greth shrugged. “Maybe you, boy, but there are women about.”

Jayka threw her knife at him, and he ducked. “Okay, okay. Let’s get a line up here, throw some arrows in their dirty faces!” He turned to Telkas. “We came over the wall, but we can’t get back that way now, there’s too many of them, and we can’t wait for

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Fewald to push through to us. That jordanus is mad bent on killing the lot of you. How do we get out of here?”

Telkas motioned up the ladders.

Greth nodded. “Cover!” Telkas and the others were prodded and hoisted up onto the ladders. Jayka went first.

“I can fight you bastards, let me go. I’ll do as I want.” But she went up anyway.

The surviving archers went up as the Jahe put up a furious wall of arrows. As Telkas went up, he saw some of the Jahe firing even off of the ladders. Beyond them, the battle inside the town raged furiously. An even number of Jahe fought the hunters of Silas, and, in the middle, the Jordanus directed with a legion of guards about him. He raised his evilly curved hands, directing the strikes like a conductor.

Telkas called to Greth on the ladder below him. “Take him down.”

Greth looked to the center, then up at Telkas. “He’s mine.” Greth hung his leg in the twisted rope of the ladder and freed both hands. He drew out his huge bow, and notched an arrow and fired. The barb hurtled through the air nearing its mark. At the last second, the target turned, striking down Ruk, right beside him. The Jordanus looked down, then up at the wall, and saw what was happening.

The wall peppered with arrows about them, digging deep into the wood. Telkas scrambled. They were nearly at the top. He swung his leg over and reached down for

Greth. The old archer grasped the ladder desperately, four arrows lodged in his back.

“Kill them all for me, boy.” He grinned, and then fell into the wreckage at the bottom. Telkas’s hand reached into empty air.

I never hated you Greth. I hope you find peace.

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The Jordanus raged, pushing archers and soldiers forward. At the head of the

Jahe, Telkas could see Fewald pushing them forward, and the Silaseans crumpling behind

them. At his side was Neeha.

The Jordanus pushed forwards. Telkas knew it was time.

He ordered everyone behind him away from the wall, to get past the high ledge.

“Get back.” Jayka stood with him, but he pushed her over. “Get away. I’ll do this myself.”

“You can’t hold them alone.” She growled, holding her leg, as two hunters pulled

her to safety.

“If I don’t, they will get here before Fewald cuts through. I can bring down the

wall, Jayka. Save them.”

She yelled, but was pulled away. In the darkness of the valley, nearly level and

then sloping down, he saw the ledge. On the edge was Jestea, holding the baby, and

hundreds of others. He raised his hand, and she waved to him.

He turned to the topstone. It was still mounted over the top of the barrier. He

grabbed a mallet and rolled a log to the edge. He looked down. Many attackers were

climbing the barrier, and although Fewald’s longbows shot some of them down, they kept

coming.

At the bottom, the Jordanus howled, cackling and slashing at the air. “You think

you can run away? I am Silas, boy. These people were lead astray. To the ways of evil.”

Telkas worked quickly, wrapping the rope around the edges of the spare log. “I’ve

learned something, Jordanus. You say you work to help the people?I think you want to

keep them afraid.”

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The Jordanus laughed. “Fear keeps someone in respect of the elders. This is why the ancients were laid low. All of their knowledge is worth nothing now, lost forever.”

“Is it?” Telkas stepped to the top. He pulled out the cube, and in the night it caught the rays of the glowstone fifty paces away. It burst into radiant light. “This is a cube that holds their knowledge, given to be by the last priest of Silas, a man you had killed.”

The Jordanus screamed with rage. “Impossible. Tear him down. Kill him.”

Clumsily the archers grabbed for arrows. Telkas put his foot on the log.

For my parents.

He pushed.

The log fell over the edge. He tried to leap over it, to get past the edge of the wall, but as the rope pulled taught, it loosened the topstone. With a sickening crunch, it came loose, and all of the weight of the arch came crashing down onto the wall. Telkas felt the world slide out from under him. As he slid, he saw the wall collapse underneath him, under the rocks on which he stood. It all fell, and he heard the cries of the men trapped beneath.

I wish I could have seen her, one more day.

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CHAPTER XXVII

COLLAPSE

Fewald ran forwards. Neeha watched at his side as the entire wall collapsed, crushing the

Jordanus and everyone underneath. A massive clouds of dust rose up as the sand and grit

washed out many paces into the down, covering some of the domes. The surviving

Silasean attackers saw too, and many of them threw down their weapons. The battle was

over.

“Telkas, Telkas.” He practically ran over the debris of battle, through the thin

ranks of defeated archers, over the sand to the pile of nothingness. Through the dust

Fewald searched.

He coughed, but began to pick his way through the logs and bodies. There were

shapes visible; he realized that the defenders had begun to walk down the slope. “Where

is Telkas, have you seen him? Where was he?”

Jayka called out, not visible. “He was on top of the wall.” She coughed.

Jestea scrambled down the slope, holding Mathas in her arms. “Telkas?”

Fewald looked around again. No sounds. Nothing.

In the sky to the east, the sun was rising, lighting a reddish glow to the heavens.

No clouds met it’s burning wrath. It spread over the sea, touching the tops of the waves, and then the sand, the river’s mouth, the trees.

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It touched over the cold bodies of the dead in the fields, over the burnt walls, bathing the scene in soft light. The dead and dying were in piles about the tall gates, still burning.

Jayka called for Greth.

Fewald dropped his head sadly. “I saw him fall.”

From the walls, from the battlefield came cheers as the last archers surrendered.

Jayka put her hand on Fewald’s shoulder. “I don’t know how this happened. Things should have been different. There has been so much hardship.”

Fewald nodded. “It’s hard to know where to go from here. How to keep going.”

Maybe there has to be hardship before the building can start anew.

Neeha bowed her head. “Telkas, Greth. All the others who have died. They died for us. For our new start.”

A waving stick caught a young archer’s attention. She was to the side of the main group. Curously, she looked at it. It was buried under rubble. She began to dig. Under it was a strange cap that was made of leather, with two smoky clear pieces of material.

“Hey, over here!”

It took four people to pull off the wood that covered him; Telkas lay in a hole. He was cut, and bruised, and his brace had been crushed, but he was alive.

Jestea ran to him, lowering herself to the ground. “Telkas!” she embraced him, but he winced.

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“Ouch.” But he said it with a smile. Around him was gathered all of the faces,

Jayka, Fewald, Neeha, Jestea. Rokus held little Mathia.

Fewald rushed to him. “Are you all right?”

Telkas grinned showing bloody teeth. “I’m alive.”

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CHAPTER XXVIII

THE CUBE

It took some time to care for the wounded. The day dawned clear and bright, and mercifully not too hot. Most of the people had been saved, but Telkas marked out burial in the fields. They would always be a sacred place after that.

They stood over the fresh graves in the soft grass. Outside their destroyed city, the people rested. But there was unease.

A young boy ran up to Telkas. “What do we do now.”

Telkas patted his head. Taking Jestea by the hand, he walked up the ruined wall, to the top of the gate.

He called out in a booming voice. “People of Silas, of Valdea. Today we celebrate a victory.”

There were cheers.

“We must be proud. But those cheers are empowered by the memories of those that we lost. We did not fight to protect a city, or stone, but to create a safe place for these people. But this land is not safe. We have only won part of this fight. Many of you know that the sea rises; it does so more every day. Silas was not destroyed by our hands. It was destroyed by their leader. We have to remember that if we do not push on, if we do not embrace change, and better ourselves, then the same fate will fall onto us.” He nodded to

Fewald. “An old man and a great leader taught me that.” 353

He put his arm around Jestea. “We will never give up. We’ve built a city, forged an alliance, and we have defeated our enemies. We can do anything we believe in.”

Telkas gripped his staff. “Jaketh, will you come forward?”

The young hunter stepped out. He was injured with a few minor cuts, and as excited as ever. “Yes?”

“Your boats are going to be our key. I was told by the last surviving priest of Silas that this cube holds the secret to our past, and will help us survive.” He held it aloft from his shirt, and the dawn light reflected dazzlingly out of it. Some people gasped in surprise. “There is a ruin of the old civilization there, and it is our job to find it. We cannot stay here in this land any longer. Those who are willing will come with us. For now, Jaketh, I charge you to pick a group of people and to row out into the sea in search of this place.”

Jaketh couldn’t find words, for a moment. “Yes, I can do that!”

“You hold a great responsibility for all of us.”

Telkas descended the platform.

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CHAPTER XXIX

THE SHIPS

Later that day, Telkas watched as the low ship slipped out into the river, running its way towards the mouth. Jestea sat beside him, and Telkas held Mathia. The twelve men on board made their way out, dipping oars lightly into the water.

Telkas raised the boy up on his shoulder.

Jestea wore a light leather dress, with white cloth beneath. “You sure you want to send them out?”

He nodded. “I’m through trying to fight the way of the world. Every time I do, it

backfires.”

She sat, staring into the morning. “What do we do now?”

He smiled, sitting beside her. “We do what we want.” Telkas kissed her head.

Together they watched the boat until it faded into the curving ocean.

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