The Burden of the Protector

by Eston, S. C.

  No. That…thing was not from Ta’Énia. Nor was it from Jarum.

  A morbid fascination was the only thing keeping me from running away. I was enthralled. Against my better judgement, I started to explore the perimeter, one delicate step at a time. It was a slow process. At every step, I stopped and looked at the curio, expecting it to change or move. Or I looked back toward the path leading to Ta’Énia with a mix of hope and fear, wanting someone to appear yet dreading being discovered.

  The forest held no sign of someone visiting the location, no broken branch, no footprint, no grass flattened, no hidden pathway.

  Since my early childhood, I was taught through stories and history to fear the Borders, to avoid them, to stay away. That was the main role of the knight protectors, to guard against the dangers of Ul Darak, to block the ignorant and naive from getting too close. The travellers, explorers, scholars, painters and artists, pilgrims and monks, or those looking for a place to die. I had been raised and trained to stop anybody from going into Ul Darak.

  I didn’t know what to do with something coming out.

  *

  The suspended section of the bridge of Saril was swaying to the lullaby of the wind, the creaking a part of the melody. I crossed and stopped when I reached the solid part of the bridge. This section was ancient and built of rocks, a wonder of architecture spanning the full width of the chasm of Saril. The construction was an impressive spectacle, bordered on both sides by natural rock pillars, which from afar could easily be confounded with giant silhouettes of guards or knights. The last stone section had been destroyed long ago and replaced by the rope bridge, which was a weak and unworthy bandage.

  I put a hand on the stone railing and looked back toward the tree-covered hill I had left behind, a rounded mountain now turning red with the coming of winter. The sun floated to the west, still high, but slowly falling. A few more hours and it would disappear behind the highest summits, causing shadows to clamber up the slopes.

  I had completed most of my round and was now on my way back to Ta’Énia. All the while, the discovery of the strange silver entity stayed with me, present in my every thought, imprinted permanently. It was all so clear, disturbingly real.

  It was impossible for me to see the object from my current location. It rested on the other side of the curved ridge. And still it pulled at me.

  I realized I was leaning dangerously over the railing of the bridge. I took a hurried step backward. Even after crossing the bridge every two days for more than five years, my fear of heights had not lessened.

  My heart was pounding loudly. I felt terribly confused. Everything had been so easy until this day. Each step of my life mapped for me, by our traditions, by my parents, by the Sy’Iss. So why was I now hesitating?

  A part of me wanted to divulge everything to Vìr, the only person I could call a friend. His every day was spent looking for exactly such a strange object. My other half wanted to do what was expected of me. Go directly to the Sy’Iss.

  I approached the edge of the bridge again, carefully this time. I looked far away, over the endless hills covered in green grass and large boulders, going up and down until they reached the impassable barrier of Ul Darak. There the greenery tried to climb the steep façade but failed. Nothing could grow so high. Mountains and peaks, each taller than the next, reaching for the cerulean sky. Rocks going from a deep brown to a light grey and finally to black, or so it suggested. So far away, it was impossible to tell if the stone was truly black or if it was because the rays of the sun didn’t shine that far. Many summits, so formidable as to make one feel insignificant, barbed, gigantic black daggers. Higher and farther away, more pinnacles and zeniths, conflicting, completely covered in white and going on endlessly. How high had a mountain to be for it to be covered in snow for eternity? How high that it pierced the sky and the clouds?

  I shook my head, pushed away the feeling of awe mixed with despair that one always felt in the presence of Ul Darak.

  There was nothing in Ul Darak. No creature could cross it or live in it. It was too unpredictable, too deadly, plagued with frequent earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, which produced thick clouds of ashes. Landslides and avalanches were common. Schisms could open in the ground on any given day, creating impassable divisions, such as the chasm of Saril, but even wider, deeper.

  No, the object could not come from there. Nothing could.

  From where, then? Could it be that it had always been where it was, and by pure hazard, we had never found it before? Could it belong to a thousand-year-old extinct civilization?

  Standing alone at the edge of the bridge of Saril, I could not decide what to do. I knew then that if only I had not befriended Vìr, there would have been no hesitation in my mind.

  I hated him in that instant. Hated him for all the wild ideas he had shared with me and for the rebellious spirit he had somehow awakened in me.

  This…discovery. It changed everything, and I didn’t even know why.

  What was I to do? Why was I even hesitating?

  Truly, what harm could come from sharing it with the Sy’Iss instead of Vìr? I knew the consequences if it was uncovered that I’d hidden the matter from the Sy’Iss. A great many people might pay for such a lie. My fellow protectors and knights. Probably some scholars. Maybe even Vìr, who regularly visited this region. Who was to say my family would even be spared? Not to mention the disappointment.

  Why chance it?

  Why indeed?

  *

  When I reached the village, late, my deep incertitude was still plaguing me. My usual comfort was shattered.

  I started doubting what I had seen. The impossibility of it was staggering. Could the thing have been some kind of hallucination? I started to wonder if I was sick with some strange affliction of the mind.

  Uncertain as I was, I couldn’t bring myself to a decision. What if it wasn’t real? One didn’t disturb the Sy’Iss with nothing. I could be removed from the protectors, branded as inapt to patrol. A disgrace to my family.

  This last one, somehow, seemed the worst.

  Who is to understand the strange workings of the mind under such duress? In the end, as I entered the small square house assigned to me, a house similar in many fashions to all the other protectors’ houses, I came to the conclusion that there was only one thing to do.

  I had to go back and verify that what I had seen was real.

  *

  Falling 4, year 2965, Dàr is 24.

  The thing was immutable.

  It stood exactly where I had left it. A cold rain had fallen the night before, but the curio itself was completely dry. No rivulet of moisture on it. Even the concave cavity, which should have retained some of the water, was bare.

  My denial was now turning to a detached acceptance. I felt powerless, a tiny living being whose understanding of the world didn’t matter. The universe would do as it pleased.

  With little worry for my well-being, I walked forward until I was a few feet from the object. It showed no symbols or engravings. The surface was perfectly plain.

  From this close, the thing’s purpose became more apparent. Its orientation provided another clue. I took a few steps until I was behind it and looked forward. To my amazement, the leaves and branches of the trees opened into a tunnel. I was too short to be able to see all the way through…

  Too short? Indeed, I now suspected that the object was some kind of seat and that it had been designed for creatures at least twice my height.

  I should have turned around then and fled. But it was too late. By hiding the discovery, by returning a second time, I was now committed. After hearing so many stories from Vìr, here I was having my own adventure.

  Without thinking, I scrambled up and sat on the cube. As I realized where I was, I started to shake. My bow slipped out of my hand and went to rest in the dead leaves on the ground. Beads of sweat formed on the back of my neck and on my forehead. Slowly, I grabbed the edges on both sides of me, trying to stabilize my
self. The surface was surprisingly warm to the touch. I had expected a metallic cold.

  As I started to control my breathing again, an eerie sensation enveloped me. My body became numb. My mind, though, was fully alert. I became dizzy, but it was comforting in some bizarre way. The world around me seemed to blur and move away. Everything became distant. That was when I thought to look forward…

  And there, in between leaves and branches, over the vast void of Yurita, a path opened, an imaginary tunnel of sorts. Delimited and yet going in all directions at once. Abruptly, the mountains of Ul Darak pretended to be close enough to be touched. The clarity of the visions, the range of what I was seeing…the trees so close, the leaves, one falling slowly now, detaching itself from a branch…and at the same instant, the mountains, so far, yet here, and out of the corner of my eye, a pride of mountain lions, climbing, then a deep lake, waterfalls on my right, and there, dark, an opening…

  What I was experiencing was beyond belief, absurd, and way too much for my limited senses. After those few and brief spectacular sights, consciousness started to slip away from me. Then nothingness caught me and dragged me down.

  *

  I awakened some time later, disoriented and lying on the ground, face pushed against the damp dirt. Moving my head, I found my bow a little to the right. I grabbed it instantly and noticed as I did that I was a few feet away from the cube. Either I had gotten up, taken a few steps, and fallen, or someone had moved me. I couldn’t say. Both ideas were disturbing.

  The sun was low, partly hidden behind the mountains. Hours had evaporated. I had no recollection of the images I had seen or been shown. Those visions would return later.

  As I stood, my mind was surprisingly blank. Paralysed…and yet, deep inside, a terror grew. I felt as if I had transgressed. I looked and there was no one around. But I felt spied upon. The sensation was upsetting.

  I assumed I had seen something forbidden, done something unacceptable. Whoever had put the object here hadn’t meant it to be used by others, not by any of the knights, certainly not by me.

  I started running. I ran as I had never run before, choosing a direction at random. Any direction was good as long as it was away from that accursed glade. As was bound to happen, I came across the path and had wit enough to turn toward the bridge. Even though I didn’t think it was possible, I ran faster. I didn’t look back and concentrated on the ground in front of me. A presence was following me. It was huge and all-encompassing. It was judging me, warning me never to return. There was no voice, but I could hear the warning, the accusation. It was inside my head, inside my bones.

  On several occasions, I fell, scratched and damaged my knees, my elbows, both bleeding. Got back on my feet and ran. I dropped my bow. Didn’t stop to pick it up.

  The Edge of Everything

  The aged man stood by the only window in the tiny habitation. As if hiding, he was crammed to one side, looking out with a single eye. A wrinkled hand braced against the wall and helped with his balance. He was staring at the mountain range, far to the east.

  The sight was a disturbing mixture of magnificence and horror, a vast canvas of darkness and whiteness. A vision the mind could not contain or comprehend.

  There stood the Borders of Ul Darak.

  There stood the edge of everything.

  The sky was a solid sheet of bluish steel and disappeared far away, behind the rocky range. Here ended the vault of the world.

  The old man’s days would expire here, in isolation on the northern outskirts of Ta’Énia. He seemed to accept it. Those endless mountains would become the termination of his current existence. And be the beginning of his eternity. His soul would forever roam in the darkness between rugged peaks, never to find a way out, never to escape.

  He turned toward the room and looked around, searching. His lips quivered, formed an almost invisible smile and then froze, open, as if wanting to talk. For a brief moment, it seemed as if the old man was seeing someone, maybe from a distant past.

  Because in the present, there was no one.

  2. Visions in the Night

  Shading 2, year 3001, Dàr is 59.

  It is a wonder that happenings so old can still awaken in me such strong feelings. By closing my eyes, I am my young self, full of energy and yet torn by different loyalties.

  Before continuing, I would take time to tell you about who I am and how I came to befriend Vìr. This might help prove the veracity of the words you are now reading. At the least, if this manuscript is not enough to convince, the information contained within will open other lines of enquiry. My hope is that with additional research, one might come to the conclusion that my words are worthy and contain, if not the whole truth, at least a part of it.

  My name is Dàr, son of Lanì and Maranàr of Ta’Énia, born and raised. I have never travelled, with the exception of my training in Vi’Alana. I have dedicated my entire life to the knight protectors and, by association, to Ta’Énia and the League. Even when doubts assailed me, I continued doing my duty. Even when Vìr challenged my views, asked me questions to which I had no answers, I continued to serve. Even when faced with forces unknown, grand powers that shook all my beliefs, I remained a simple and loyal protector.

  It was my life, my family’s pride.

  I discovered the object in the year ’65, exactly five years following my return from Vi’Alana, where I completed the requisite training to become a knight protector. The time spent in Vi’Alana was hard on me. I missed my family and Ta’Énia more than the average pupil. My discomfiture was such that my parents went through the trouble of petitioning for an early release on my behalf to the master trainer. The request was granted, probably due to the many good years of service offered by my family in Ta’Énia. So far as we can trace, my family’s ancestors have been knight protectors. For the last two years of my stay in Vi’Alana, I received condensed lessons, allowing me to return to Ta’Énia a year earlier than the average trainee.

  Upon my return, at twenty, I was assigned to the Saril company, responsible for guarding the Yurita Highlands. Although it was a region dreaded by most, I was honoured to start my service at such a young age. During the following years, I lacked confidence and initiative, needed constant encouragement from my parents and elder brother. More importantly, I was terribly scared. It is one thing to live in Ta’Énia with one’s parents, an observer and a child with no responsibility. It is quite another to come back from training and be on one’s own, accountable for each action, for each mistake.

  As I was one of the youngest protectors, many believed I would make a fatal mistake that would bring shame on myself and my family. Many wished it, overzealous lots, who didn’t approve of my shortened training and early beginning. My fear of doing exactly that was so deep that it almost stopped me from performing my duty. I could see disappointment in my parents’ eyes every day, and yet I continued to go to them for approval and support.

  If there is one thing that all children learn at a very young age, it is to respect and fear the Sy’Iss. I personally saw the Sy’Iss as a huge and faceless monster. A puppet master guiding us through this unsafe and unforgiving region of the world. The fear of Ul Darak and the Sy’Iss is constant, an intrinsic part of our daily lives. Our survival depends on it. The survival of Jarum depends on us. We all have to learn to live with the fear, to endure until it becomes a part of us.

  All, that is, except Vìr.

  *

  Vìr told me once that the fear was sowed around us, purposely, so it could grow and envelop us, blinding us to reality and binding us to specific rules. He said that the army of his country controlled its citizens in similar ways. In Ta’Énia, he said the treachery was planted not by the knight soldiers, but by the Sy’Iss. In these eastern parts of Jarum, the Sy’Iss was everything, and so most of us were oblivious to the reality surrounding us.

  Vìr strongly believed that the fear made us more malleable and predictable. I remember disliking those discussions with an ardent p
assion, knowing he was the one with the delusions. He would not bend to the rules of the Sy’Iss, and I would say to him that his defiance would one day cost him dearly.

  Strangely, it was during my first years as a protector, uncertain times at best, yet a critical period for a new recruit, that I befriended Vìr. I was twenty-two. I will always remember our first encounter. It was at the suspended bridge of Saril, which to this day, I cannot cross without a deep feeling of dread.

  I was standing at the edge of the bridge, shaking, uncertain and scared. It was one of those days when I was unable to find the courage to cross. I had relieved the previous protector and should have already been patrolling the highlands. That was when Vìr arrived.

  At first, I had a strong feeling of disdain and turned my head away. I knew of the black barbarian of the west… Then, I realized the obviousness of my predicament. Vìr could easily tell I was scared. I felt humiliated and braced myself for the mockery to follow.

  But it didn’t come.

  Vìr stopped beside me and took in the scenery.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said, his voice deep and profound, with a touch of unexpected respect.

  I gave a reluctant nod, not wanting to be associated with him.

  “One can only feel tiny in the presence of such dazzling grandeur.”

  He was almost twice my size, a beast, many said. He could have been such a great protector and yet he was a scholar, working directly for the League. Many called him an impostor because he came from the west.

  “Is there another way to Yurita?” he asked then.

  I shook my head.

  “I was told there wasn’t, but what harm could come from asking a protector, just the same? One can always hope. That being the case, can I…ask a favour?” He continued without waiting for a reply. “My studies are bringing me to Yurita this day, to the plateau known as Farana. I came one time before, guided by good Maéva. You see, this bridge…how to say this, without demeaning myself.” He looked up, then far away, obviously uncomfortable.