by Eston, S. C.
“Let me guide you across,” I offered, disbelieving my own words.
*
Vìr was probably never intimidated by the bridge or the depth of the ravine. As we met day after day, he continued to ask my help to cross the deep chasm. I accepted each time, comforted by his presence and forced, in a way, to confront my fears.
The crossing of the bridge of Saril was the bond that led me to befriend Vìr, to learn to know him when others seemed to have only distrust and contempt for him. I admired his strength and his confidence, the way he would stand tall in a place where he was the only one with black skin, in a place where he didn’t belong. When Vìr stood in the middle of a group, be it on the road, around a table, or in the wild, those around seemed to diminish. His knowledge was as impressive as his size. He knew parcels of information about anything and everything, which he would happily discuss with anyone.
Although I liked spending time with Vìr and learning from him, I still disapproved of many of his ideas. On many an occasion, I mumbled some weak excuses to get away. At other times, I would go so far as not listening to a single word he was saying. The reality was that some of his observations terrified me.
Vìr’s ideas were unorthodox and dangerous. The way he talked infuriated me. On the other hand, the strange man intrigued me more. And in those rare moments when I gave him a chance to influence me, I still didn’t comprehend most of what he was saying. Vìr didn’t understand Ta’Énia, the Sy’Iss, the knights, the Borders…our world. He came from a place where our dangers were unknown. He didn’t understand the necessity of the firm rules of the Sy’Iss, the important role of the knight protectors.
Vìr was a loner and a rebel, both of which amazed me. It was said that he came to Ta’Énia fleeing a tragedy. He never told me his whole story, although he promised on many occasions that he would, when the time was right. Vìr shared many of his opinions, all of it calculated, as if he knew that by going too far, too fast, he would push me away.
“There is something special in you,” he would say, hinting that he liked me.
In the end, I think he never really trusted me, which was probably why he kept the details of his past to himself. For this mistrust, sadly, I have no grounds to blame him.
Vìr was my elder by almost ten full years. Our friendship was misunderstood by my peers, seen as a curiosity. How could a young protector, proper in every way, spend so much time with the barbarian? I have to admit I didn’t completely understand it myself.
And yet I was not the only one. One other in Ta’Énia befriended Vìr before me.
Maéva.
If my relationship with Vìr was odd, hers was seen as an aberration by all. To us, mere protectors, their relationship was learned of through murmurs and rumours. All knew and respected Maéva, who’d come to Ta’Énia as an ambassador of Vi’Alana and become a leading member of the League. How could it be, then, that she was the one who had secured shelter in our little village for Vìr and had made him a member of the League and had even gone as far as becoming his partner on many research projects?
Thinking about that faraway past, it is my belief that Vìr found salvation not in the research and the League, but in Maéva. He loved her, was infatuated with her. When talking of her, he would constantly smile. She made him happy. That much was obvious. The same could probably be said for Maéva, although I was never close to her myself.
Their strange relationship was not without difficulties. Vìr was often ridiculed and the target of insults. He seemed able to put it aside, to steel himself against it. But it was not so for Maéva. She came from a whole different world, he would tell me in confidence, worried. She was in a position of great respect and importance, being one of the most influential and revered members of the League. Her recommendations for research projects were almost always approved and put in motion. Yet, as she became closer and closer to Vìr, as she spent more and more time with him, her conflicts with the Sy’Iss increased. Vìr was torn by the whole matter, torn between spending as much time as he could with Maéva and protecting her by staying away.
The Sy’Iss kept her until the end, but not without smearing her reputation. Her projects became more bold, possibly encouraged by Vìr’s ideas. Some challenged views and theories taken for granted for years. The conflict even made it to our ears, and although we protectors didn’t understand it, we were scared nonetheless.
Vìr would often say how much she had to lose, when he had everything to gain.
Before the end, I had the temerity in one of our rare exchanges to ask Maéva if it had been worth it.
“Knowing everything that has happened, would you still bring Vìr to Ta’Énia?”
“Absolutely,” she had replied without hesitation. “He completes me…” she added in a whisper.
During all those years, through all the hardships, Maéva stayed loyal to Vìr, never letting him down. Not once.
*
Shading 3, year 3001, Dàr is 59.
Let me add but one more observation about Vìr.
One of his most prominent belongings was a large and curved sword, which he sometimes took with him on his expeditions to the Borders of Ul Darak. It bore on its wide blade strange markings and the shape of a long snake. The weapon, crude compared to the Taénian blades, which were more stylish and light, only added to Vìr’s isolation. Many feared it, saying it was cursed, an object of evil.
I often wondered why he kept it with him. I saw it as defiance, almost provocation. But later, I realized that too much importance was given to the weapon. The Sy’Iss certainly didn’t care about it. To them, it was not his weapon or his origins or the colour of his skin that were terrifying and dangerous.
It was his ideas.
*
Falling 4, year 2965, Dàr is 24.
When Garòn came to replace me, I hid my injuries and my discovery. I went home, where I stayed, doing nothing, not eating, not drinking, just lying on my back on my tiny bed. I tried to clear my thoughts and reach some semblance of calm, but found it unachievable.
As soon as the darkness of night had descended on Ta’Énia, I made my way to Vìr’s home. His place was located close to mine, in the northern region of the village. In this area, houses were planted here and there, in no particular pattern, between trees and hills. Each house was the same as the next: a wooden box with a simple design, as simple as it could be. Each was the home of a knight, mostly protectors, with the exception of Vìr. The scholars of the League lived in the southern part of the village. Yet the best Maéva had been able to procure for Vìr was a house with us. To any other scholar, this would have been unacceptable. Vìr liked it.
It was easy to make my way unseen. The knight protectors guarded the Borders, not Ta’Énia. The knight soldiers were few in numbers and had no reason to suspect movement during the night hours. Everyone knew the rules and abode by them. I remember blaming my daring excursion on Vìr’s influence.
I blamed a great many things on Vìr at the time.
I went to his door and knocked once and hard. The noise was loud, too loud for my comfort. It made me look around. I saw no one, just trees, leaves blowing in the feeble wind. I was ready to force my way in if required, but Vìr opened the door quickly, as if he had been expecting my visit. He invited me in and closed the door behind me.
“Dàr, my friend, are you all right?” he asked in his deep voice.
It took me a few moments to answer.
“I do not know,” I blurted out.
As did mine, Vìr’s house had only two rooms. This one included two tables, one round, one rectangular, a tall pantry, a couch, two chairs stacked one on top of another, and a bookcase, mostly empty. Papers, scrolls, and parchments were scattered everywhere, mingled with notes, books, and maps. Complete chaos, or so it seemed. It certainly showed Vìr’s dedication to his tasks and research. A pleasant smell of spices hung in the air. I could not recognize it.
Vìr led me to the small couch and sat me down.
>
“What happened?” he asked.
When I didn’t answer, Vìr left the room and came back with a bowl of water, medicine, and bandages. He took a chair, sat beside me and started cleaning my wounds. Because I had waited so long, the blood had dried out and Vìr had to scratch roughly to clean it properly. The pain was acute, but I accepted it. It anchored me in reality.
“Are you being pursued?” he asked, probably noticing that I kept stealing glances toward the window.
To be pursued was a strange notion in Ta’Énia. Only Vìr would have thought of it, which was one of the reasons I came to him.
“I do not think so. I don’t know, may-maybe…” My voice was shaking. No knight had followed me. But about the presence in the woods, I couldn’t be sure. I could still feel it, close to me, behind me.
“You are safe here,” said Vìr as he completed his work. He then put everything away and asked if I was hungry. I nodded and when he put the bread and cheese in front of me, I tore through it voraciously. Vìr then started a fire in a pit located in the corner of the small home. In the dimness, he was almost invisible, his dark skin blending with the shadows around him.
Once I was done eating, I sat back and started to feel calmer, safer. The light in this house would not arouse any suspicion. It was common enough for Vìr to be up throughout the night. Although he was living in the same region as the knights, he had the privileges of the members of the League, one of which allowed him to stay awake if his research demanded it. As it turned out, Vìr was almost the only one who took advantage of the benefit, if one saw late nights and no sleep as such.
Although the house was cozy and warm, I was quivering. Vìr built up the fire and set a kettle over it.
I looked around, trying to probe into what Vìr was doing here. Thanks to Vìr’s help, I could now read, although my skills had much room for improvement. I noticed references to climate and landscape scribbled on maps and charts, organized by locations and seasons. There were other notes and manuscripts, which I couldn’t understand. Some were in a language I didn’t know, maybe Vìr’s birth language. It was most certainly related to the Borders of Ul Darak and those areas between here and there. The purpose eluded me completely.
Vìr was now preparing tea. As I waited, I wondered if I would have opened my door and welcomed Vìr the same way, had our roles been reversed. Probably not, and the thought didn’t particularly disturb me at the time. It does now.
Vìr brought the tea and sat beside me. The cup was small but warmed me and steadied my hands. I took a sip, closed my eyes briefly.
“I found something,” I admitted.
I do not know if it was the sight of me or the intonation in my voice, but Vìr instantly understood the grave portent of my words. His face, although supportive, was serious. I had expected him to be suspicious, to scrutinize me, to doubt my words. Anyone else would have. But not Vìr. If he wondered why I came to him instead of the Sy’Iss, he didn’t show it. If he was nervous, I couldn’t feel it. His manner was calm, his gaze friendly.
“I thought so,” he said after a moment. “You are safe here,” he repeated. “What you tell me will stay between these walls, except if you want it differently. You know of my interests, of my methods. I suspect you came to me in part for those reasons. Let me be honest. I am very curious about what you have found. But I will not press you on the matter. Dàr, my friend, the decision to share rests entirely with you. Whatever you decide, my door will remain open.”
I nodded, put my head down, looked at the floor, my feet, my hands. I was still uncertain if I should tell him anything. The memory of the events in the clearing in the woods made me tremble. The fear was as intense and real as it had been while I was running toward the bridge of Saril.
“I…don’t know what it was,” I said, my voice shaking, high, almost a shout. I felt a hint of hysteria.
“Do not worry,” said Vìr. “Take your time. Drink some more.”
I took another sip of the tea, felt the warm liquid steady my being. I had never been more grateful to have Vìr as a friend than at that moment. No one else would have been this supportive, not my family, not the other protectors. They would all have expected me to go directly to the Sy’Iss, would have despised me for not doing so. They would not have understood.
I didn’t understand myself.
But Vìr… maybe he did.
“Where is your bow?” he asked.
“I…dropped it.”
He nodded at this.
“Tomorrow,” he said, “we’ll get it back. And talk, if you need to. For now, you should get some rest. Stay here tonight. My roof is yours.”
I drank what was left of the tea, slowly, my thoughts in turmoil. When I was done, Vìr took the cup away and I lay back down. He brought a wool blanket that had been given to him by Maéva, made by her own hands. I hadn’t the strength to refuse it.
Vìr’s large face showed genuine concern, and his presence was reassuring. I closed my eyes. Tried to find sleep.
*
The night seemed endless. A patch of time stretching forever.
Images of my discovery haunted my thoughts. The object, standing alone in the middle of the forest. My return to see it again, as if a voice had called me back. The strange sensation of the silvery material under my fingers. Then a darkness more complete than the blackness behind my closed eyelids.
I kept moving, turning, half awake, half asleep. Vìr’s hand touched my shoulder now and then. And his voice said words of comfort, words I couldn’t make out but for which I was grateful.
When sleep finally came, the dreams were more terrorizing than the reality. Visions of sitting on the object. The profound feeling of transgression. Acute, made stronger by my slumbering mind, almost physical in its agony.
And then, when the world out there felt like it didn’t exist any longer, when I had completely abandoned myself to the warm embrace of slumber, I started to really see.
In the highlands of Yurita, what had at first appeared to be an entrance started to take shape. It was located in the slope of a remote mountain. Deep, so very deep in the unending mountains of Ul Darak. At the end of a hollow valley, surrounded by peaks touching the sky, dark rock, but not as dark as the passage itself. A yawning mouth, open, inviting. And yet forbidden.
I was not to go in.
No one was to go in.
I tried to stop, to turn around. Struggled as much as I could, but my movements were not my own. I kept floating closer and closer toward the gaping hole, my feet non-existent, my arms flapping. Trying…trying to get away. While the fear grew and grew…
*
Falling 5, year 2965, Dàr is 24.
“Dàr, my friend, wake up.”
A reassuring heavy hand on my shoulder.
“It’s me, Vìr. You are in my home. You are safe.”
I opened my eyes. Blinded, everything coming from far away.
“Here, drink this.”
A warm cup in my hand. Rays of sunlight coming through the window.
I drank. The delicious tea brought me back to Vìr, to his house and to existence.
“You were having a nightmare.”
My body was drenched in sweat, yet I was cold. Exhaustion nagged at me.
“I am scared,” I said between sips.
“I am here,” said Vìr. “Tell me what I can do to help.”
I looked at Vìr. What an impressive presence he had. So large, his skin the colour of ebony. His alert eyes, set in the middle of his square face, didn’t miss a thing. He was a scholar, but in that moment, he was a protector, my protector.
I started to talk.
I told him about the glade, the object, and the opening in the branches and leaves. I told him about my hesitation, my flight from the scene and my second visit. I told him everything but left out my dream, for the moment. The dream was just too much.
Then a thought returned to me.
“I need to retrieve my bow,” I said.
Vìr nodded.
*
It was a cold day, the type of cold that takes hold of your hands, your nose, your ears, with no intention of ever letting go. The sky was clear and crisp, endless and azure, before it disappeared in thick grey clouds over the mountains of Ul Darak. We made our way south across Ta’Énia, then took to the serpentine road through the woods. We crossed the bridge of Saril, I in the lead. Neither of us said a word. The lack of sleep made me impatient, and as we got into familiar territory, I started to doubt if I should involve Vìr.
For his part, he was excited, although he tried to hide it, probably aware of my sorry state. It was obvious he was looking forward to seeing the mysterious object.
“Here it is,” said Vìr suddenly, picking something up from the ground.
It was my bow. My thoughts had been all about the glade, and I had forgotten about my lost heirloom.
I took a long breath and grabbed my bow without saying a word. We stood on the side of the trail worn by the many footsteps of the knight protectors patrolling the region.
“Is it this way?” asked Vìr, taking a step into the forest.
Reluctantly, I nodded. Vìr started forward. I followed. A few times, he looked at me, asking directions. I would nod, my cooperation hesitant.
Finally, I stopped and looked around. Vìr came to my side.
“It is not here,” I said, knowing I should have felt relieved but didn’t. “It was…”
I took a few steps toward the centre of the glade, looking for the opening in the leaves. Had the object been here, I could have sat on it as I had done before and looked through the opening. But there was no sign of it, no trace. The grass, which should have been flattened, was normal in every way.
“It stood in this exact location,” I said. “Right here, and sitting on it, I could look and see through that gap.”
Attentively, Vìr looked around and then through the opening.
“It is a strange thing,” he said. “These branches, the way they grew, the leaves just so, out of the way. As you said, an empty space, a window on Ul Darak.”
