“The Seven Breaths, as told by House Leth, as told by all,” he announced. “We honor El with this story of our Beginnings. Hear my words!”
His gaze travelled from face to face across the glowing flames. This was something he had no need to study; his ability for storytelling seemed to flow as easily as breathing, and the feel of an audience hanging on his words was a gift he deeply cherished. He steadied his mind and began:
“This is the story of Creation, from the time before time ever was.” He moved his hand in a flattened arc. His voice stole through the quiet. “Imagine, if you will, when all was dark … no stars, no worlds. Nothing moved, lived or breathed, and in that timeless space, El became aware.”
Above the fire, sparse clouds of stray sparks flew aloft. Between them, melting snowflakes glinted as they plunged through the smoke-hole toward warmth and death. Huldar felt the silence as the Uri’madu contemplated the idea of germinal emptiness. Did El exist before awareness came, or were cognizance and existence one and the same?
“Lying there, empty in the blackness, El perceived breath. El felt breath within and breath without, but the breath of time was, as yet, outside time, and all was stillness.
“When El drew Breath and spoke the First Word into the void, time began. Sound sped through the matrix, causing enormous eddies and great spiral clouds. Under the influence of vibration, matter was created and El saw beauty, but El was alone and could not share the wonder of creation.”
The Mark on Huldar’s cheek pulsed as he released a string of notes. The soft resonance captured snowflakes and whirled them in spirals with the sparks above the flames.
“El drew Breath again,” he continued, “and the Second Word was spoken. Swirling matter coalesced into suns, and these clumped together to form galaxies like our own, spiraling and spinning, filling the void with color.”
Huldar waved his arms, and above the fire, swirling galaxies of ice and embers formed and grew wilder.
“Within the galaxies,” he said, “planets solidified like jewels around the suns. Meteors and comets formed. Wild motes sparkling in the vastness, they collided with planets and were eaten by stars. On the planets, volcanoes spewed gasses and molten rock, moons came and went, and all was chaos.
“But El was alone, and could not share the wonder and beauty of chaos.”
The flurry of ice and fire slowed as Huldar’s hands quieted, then the charm was released and the snow fell hissing into the flames.
“Once more, El drew breath and a Third Word was spoken. The Third Word found harmony with the two already in existence, and merged with their vibrations to create balance.”
At Huldar’s bidding, fresh snowflakes gathered to tempt ruin as they danced with sparks above the flames. Subtle changes to the charm’s fluency caused the cloud to freeze into a three dimensional lattice, hemmed in by the watchful eyes of the Uri’madu.
“Patterns were born, and chaos was no more. Crystals formed, resonant to the Third Word. Suns and their planets vibrated in accord. Each added their own unique voice to the song of the universe, and flux and movement occurred all at one with the Great Design. But El was alone and could not share the wonder and beauty of harmony.
“Then El drew breath and spoke a Fourth Word. Uttered gently, it wove in and out of the harmony without disruption. This Word was the breath of life.”
Above the fire, sparks and snowflakes snaked through the bright lattice in slow, serpentine strings. The strings began to move more quickly. Collisions sent sparks exploding into the darkness, then the colorful blooms were reabsorbed and sent weaving anew.
“Tiny creatures formed,” Huldar cupped his hand and held it out, “so small they could barely be seen. Each had a beauty of its own. Feeding from the light, from the dark and from each other, they swept across planets, propelled by the movement of El’s Breath.
“There was life, although it was unaware, but El was alone and could not share the wonder of its beauty.”
While Huldar spoke, the strings had continued to grow and accelerate and the debris of collisions puffed bright clouds through the matrix. These formed more strings, which moved yet more swiftly, until suddenly the whole construction shuddered to a halt. The air hissed with the annangi’s indrawn breaths. Several heartbeats passed with no sound but the brush of falling snow and the slow creak and pop of embers.
Then he wove a new charm, and the lattice reawakened. Moving strings became apparitions of things the Uri’madu had seen on their travels, and took the shapes of plants and creatures and all in between.
“El drew breath and spoke the Fifth Word, short and loud, shaking simple life forms into beings of greater complexity. Larger creatures grew and began multiplying.”
Above the fire, images bloomed and were gone. Andel’s enjoyment shone in Huldar’s soul, warming his voice.
“There was life in the water, land and sky. Fish and seaweed, birds and trees, grasses, plants and animals. New harmonies flooded the song of the universe and there was life in abundance, but still El was alone and unable to share this new wonder of creation.
“Then, after long consideration, El drew breath again and the Sixth Word was spoken, calling forth sentience to share in El’s joy.”
The lattice dissolved and its denizens exploded outward, forming stars and constellations above their heads. A surge of light illuminated the rapt faces of the Uri’madu and Huldar’s lips curved in a slow smile.
“Sentience was released to interact freely with creation, forming endless cycles of choice, growth and change. New harmonies added wild elements to the song of the universe. Some were discordant, but others were not, and good and evil were born of free will.
“Under the influence of sentience, a new awareness, Asheru, came into existence. Asheru felt the teeming, vibrant life born of the Breath of El and loved it, and loved El also, and El rejoiced to be no longer alone.
“Then El and Asheru drew breath together and uttered the Seventh Word as a shout of ecstasy, and Spirit was born to ensure the joy of creation will never be lost.
“Riding on the Breath of El and Asheru, all spirits return in their time and are breathed out again, refreshed and full of love, to continue their journey. Thus light and love will always prevail over the dark follies of wayward sentience.”
Huldar made a slow bow to the flames. Sparks drifted freely again as the charm was released.
“We honor El, the Creator, and Asheru, the manifestation of love,” Huldar said. “Hear my words!”
Andel drew the shawl from his shoulders and it returned through many hands to its keeper. Conversation slowly resumed. A mug of thick brown urmahji tea found its way into Huldar’s grip. As he breathed in its steam, the woody fragrance reminded him of his childhood home by the highland lakes of Erithel.
He shared the thought with Andel. “My mother would search for urmahji root by the lakes in the summer,” he said. “This is Lake Achaar.”
Andel’s smile became soft and reflective. “So beautiful … wild and rugged. Will you take me there?
In another part of the tent, Casco’s voice lifted over the sounds of laughter and the clink of glasses. “The swamps of Karga’an!” he said. “Ah yes, I remember it well.”
Gento snorted loudly. “If I recall, it was you who took us there – you who led us into the spark beetle nest.”
“No, no, no!” Casco protested. “It was Arko!”
“Was you!” Arko cried.
“Well,” Casco said. “Who could have known it would be so big?”
“Or smell so bad!” said Nachiel.
“Yeah,” Gento rumbled. “Or that we’d end up covered in dung.”
Andel rolled her eyes. “Ah, the glow-in-the-dark beetle dung. We both know how that tale ends. Let’s go before they get too rowdy. We have important matters to discuss.”
Important matters? His heart skipped a beat. “Yes, we do.” He got to his feet. She stood up beside him. Her haze was a little pink, but her mind was tightly sea
led. His heart raced. Had she come to a decision?
“Shh, not here,” she said, then she blushed. “I have my pillow with me.”
_________
Lind watched as Huldar and Andel joined hands and slipped from the marquee.
Sari bumped her gently. “Are you all right?”
She hesitated. How could she explain? “Yes. I’m tired now though,” she said. “I think I’ll go to bed.”
Sari looked around. “Just give me a minute and I’ll join you.”
“No, really. I’ll be fine on my own.”
Sari searched her face, her haze, and Lind knew she wanted to help, but there was nothing more to say. No words would make sense.
“Well … if you’re sure now?” Sari said. “Your haze …”
“I am. I’m perfectly well.” She tried to smile. “Just tired.”
__________
From the back of the tent, Duvät Gok watched with glittering eyes as Huldar and the diviner left the tent, then Lind. Stupid, he thought, the three of them. In the privacy of his exclusion, he allowed himself a moment to gloat over his victory. Huldar’s threats – what would they matter once the untold riches of the Eyes of Bel Nishani were his? The loss of his position in the Imperial Explorers Guild would mean nothing: in fact, it was what he wanted. And as soon as they reached the first rest-stop, he would make contact with the Faythans to give them advance knowledge of the nacrite reserves, after he had negotiated a substantial reward for his efforts, of course. He closed his eyes to feel the Breath flowing through him, changing his fortunes for the better.
Lind
“… Three, four, …” Lind realized she was whispering beneath her breath. “… Five … Stop! Just stop!”
She clasped her hands to keep them from touching her toes as she counted. Tears dripped onto her fingers.
Everyone was so kind, so caring, and she knew their love was genuine, but the cold lump inside her heart was a bottomless black well and there was nothing beyond it.
She smiled through tears as she recalled Huldar’s story. The way he had woven charms with sparks and snowflakes was one of the most beautiful things she had seen. But he would never be hers. And all the while as the story was unfolding she had felt the Gok’s eyes boring into her. She had agreed to let him enter the tent. It would show the Uri’madu, her family, that there was no need to worry. She was strong enough. She was coping well. All the work with the healers was not wasted.
One, two, three, four …
Sari turned in her sleep. Lind studied her face for a while: the kindest most beautiful face in the known. Sari was always telling her to put her boots on, and she meant well, but if her toes were covered, how would she know?
Sari would miss her the most.
As quietly as she could, she slipped from her bedroll. It was better to do it now, while she was stronger, while Huldar’s story could still make her smile. In a few short hours, the navigator would come and the silence of the void would eat her again.
The snow felt crisp beneath her feet, but not as cold as she thought it would be. She pulled her jacket around her shoulders and kept walking. The glow from the marquee cast a faint orange shadow as she passed by. Tears froze on her face.
She found the rocks near the Djan’rū site and left the path to sit between two tall boulders.
High above, stars blazed in an indigo firmament. She shivered with cold. It was time. Every healer knew how to do this, to help another to rejoin the Breath with dignity. Ubaid and Alis had been so kind, but even they could not understand. No one could. The terror of sleep, the need for contact. She pretended for Sari’s sake, but the pain would never stop. How could it? The past could not be undone. How could she face the Realm? The questions? They would look at her and know; they would feel it no matter how deeply it was veiled. She was broken. Worthless. It was better this way.
One last cold breath filled her lungs, then she centered her spirit and let it go …
Her body fell away like an outworn husk, like old boots whose comfort had worn thin. It had been a good body, but she did not know how to love it any more.
Suddenly, for the first time since Duvät Gok, her head felt light and clear. Then a sense of urgency overtook her. She should make her death-cry, but to whom, and what should she say? She had no direct family.
Time was slipping faster, her mind would not focus. Sari – she saw Sari swathed in warm blankets, still fast asleep. Then it came to her – what was really important here.
The eyes … she cried. Duvät Gok has eyes …
Sari sat bolt upright and screamed, but Lind had already turned toward the light and the divine Breath that rushed through her soul.
THE SONG OF WENT
The day had passed and the navigator had not come. As evening fell, the temperature plummeted. Andel and Huldar sat huddled in sadness with the rest of the team, waiting for his arrival. Gento conjured a fire and they clustered around it, but the heat barely escaped the flames. Pain weighed heavily on their hearts. Despite their efforts, somehow they had failed.
Andel’s hand strayed to the pocket on her breast. There is something I must do, she whispered to Huldar.
He started to follow but she stopped him.
“I won’t be long,” she said.
He nodded and returned to his place. Her side was cold where she had leaned against him. He knew where she was going – just behind the rocks to the place where they had found Lind, her body still warm despite the snow all around it. They had sung for her until the corpse had dissolved and the elements that formed it had dissipated into the soil and the sky.
Andel kneeled in the snow and put her hands against the bare patch of ground, but all was at peace there now with nothing to mark Lind’s passing but their memories. She took the stick from her pocket and admired its twisting pattern for one last time, then gently placed it over her grave. “I don’t need it now, Aanjay,” she whispered, and if you can hear me, please, find Lind and love her as she deserves.
She heard steps crunching through the snow. A warm hand clasped her shoulder, and she leaned back against Huldar’s legs, but before she could say anything, a chord chimed through the ether and the navigator arrived at last.
_______
In due course, the Uri’madu departed for Giahn and the small piece of patterned wood from Germane was buried beneath a ton of snow and ice; but on the planet the Uri’madu had left behind, the slow journey of the Went continued.
As the days froze together in the sun’s declining light, survivors of the trail of trials reached the plains to settle into their homes at the foot of the mountains. While they regained their strength, the great beasts gathered in discussion and prepared for the long sleep. After the time of purification, the white waste would pass and they would awaken, ravenous. They must be prepared. The eldest were keen to pass their knowledge to younger generations. The songs of trail and trial must not be lost, and there were more observations to share.
Green-skinned Endowers showed their tribe the subtle changes in grass and leaf, and how to tell when the renewal was nigh. Pale ginger hair lifted, explaining how to find the last of the succor before it was lost to the waste and the time of purification began in earnest. The Eldest Stargazer raised indigo arms beneath russet hair and pointed out to its successors the signs in the sky of the white waste’s approach. Grassmovers sang songs of the signs in the weather, brown hair moving with the language of blowing snow and forest crowns. The Eldest told of the time of storm and wind that heralded the renewal, and emphasized signs of the arrival of New Purpose. Singtellers raised blue skin and sang with pale coats to the Mothers and Enders of the storage of souls, and the end of life, and of the Great Circle; for the Mothers were the Keepers of the Circle, and the Enders were a mystery.
All sang of the Great Purpose, of the Circle. Everything, every aspect of life and their surroundings must be observed and recorded in the soul of the herd and sung to the Heart so that at the Time of Renewal, all wou
ld be regenerated as it must be. If all were sung in correct succession, the Circle would continue as it should.
As ice and snow grew thick over their tunnels and the time of purification was imminent, the Enders grew restless, anticipating the moment when they would shed their essence over the mother’s gift and then they, too, would vanish into the Heart.
When it was done, with song and ceremony, the Mothers collected the Enders souls, then, with bellies distended by those in their care, they retired to the long sleep.
The remaining Went gathered and draped their heads to the ground so that the Heart of the World might know their song, carried in the drone of its accompaniment. With swaying backs turned to the outside, they shuffled sideways in a circling mass, each singing for as long as they could before ice filled their coats and rendered them voiceless. They sang of the Time of Renewal, when New Purpose would emerge from the sands to replenish and record the Circle so that it would never be lost.
Life comes from the sands
Life comes from the waters
Life comes from the sun.
Go to the sacred shores
Await the long reach of the Sky Circle
The sound of touch ends all sound
The sound of touch begins sound anew.
Where sand spirals in wind and water to join the circle of the sun
Purpose will be renewed.
When only the hardiest core of the herd remained, the eldest singteller, Fesneeth, gathered them in a last communion. Fesneeth, a veteran of four trails, used the wind in its coat to enhance the telling of another story while snow pattered in sad punctuation. The glistening eyes of the watching Went absorbed every nuance of the flow of Fesneeth’s hair lifting and falling in a song of dark foretelling. New singtellers stood close to absorb even the faintest of whispers as a record for times to come.
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