by Eston, S. C.
When I wanted Vìr to disbelieve, he refused. Where I didn’t see any sign, he did.
“The grass is shorter here.” He indicated the ground. “See. And not as green, with some yellow. Something was here. It had a square base, with a hollow centre. It was probably light.”
It had looked so heavy.
“Using the base as a reference,” continued Vìr, “it must have been significant in size. And if one was to sit on it and look through the natural window over there, it must have been at least this high. Too high to be a normal chair.”
The enthusiasm in Vìr’s voice was contagious. I found myself following him closely, listening to his every word, seeing as he was discovering. All against my better judgement.
“This was you,” he said, pointing at a footprint. “But there was no one else. Not in the last few days. It is strange that no other protector made this discovery before. But then, if the object is already gone, it is incredible luck that brought you to it in exactly the time when it was present.”
I nodded at every word. As Vìr pointed, it was easy for me to see the traces I had left.
“This is where I woke up,” I said, “lying on the ground after…after I sat on the object and had that strange experience.”
Just to the right, the heavy footprints of my flight were clearly visible. As I was looking in that direction, the fear returned suddenly, so strong that I almost started running again.
“Dàr?” asked Vìr, coming closer. “Did you hear something?”
I looked around.
“We have to leave,” I said.
I expected Vìr to offer opposition or to question my statement. Instead, he surprised me yet again. He kept silent and glanced around, vigilant. His face showed a seriousness I had rarely seen in him, an alertness and a savageness unknown until then. In that moment, Vìr looked the hunter, the warrior. His right hand was on the hilt of his imposing blade. I nocked an arrow on my bow.
“You are right,” he said. “There is a faint smell in the air.” His words gave me chills. I inhaled but couldn’t detect what he was talking about. “Something foul is nearby,” he added. “As you say, we should go.”
And we did.
3. Dreams and Doubts
Shading 6, year 3001, Dàr is 60.
Yesterday saw my sixtieth birthday. The day was far from what it could have been. It was celebrated by a small group of chosen people at my oldest son’s home. It was to be my last escapade from the rest home. I am grateful for Faron. He is the only one still acknowledging my existence.
The worst was the wait. For most of the day, I stood close to the front entrance of Faron’s house, hoping against all odds that my other children would come, knowing it would be my last chance to see them.
They didn’t.
Eriéla deserted me many years ago and took the children with her. Although I have an impeccable record of service with the knight protectors, my peculiar interests, especially in regards to reading and writing, were incomprehensible to those living close to me, especially Eriéla. When we should have grown old together and got to know each other better, my interests tore us apart and we became strangers. My random comments about the west, about other cities, about becoming something other than a knight, would only widen the gap growing between us. How strange must those notions have sounded to Eriéla and my children. Even now, I do not fully comprehend the source of these aspirations. I just know they are real and will not go away.
And so, one day, I asked one question too many and the schism became irreparable between Eriéla and me.
“What if Vìr was right?” I had said out loud, surprising even myself.
Eriéla didn’t answer or say a word, but the way she looked at me was enough. Fear was in her eyes. Fear of me!
We never talked about it, never repeated it. Two months later, Eriéla left our home, taking our two sons and our precious daughter with her. I pleaded for her to come back, making promises and giving assurances. To no avail.
Eight years later, Eriéla fell victim to a terrible sickness. The disease took her life after two long years of battle. She died in my arms, hearing my voice repeating and repeating that I loved her, that I always had. I also covered her with apologies. Eriéla went without giving a response, but I believe she was comforted all the same.
My daughter blames me to this day for her mother’s passing. Blames me for being the one with her in the end, thinking it was a privilege I didn’t deserve. The only comfort I got from those hurtful events was the chance to see my children. I take comfort in Faron, who is the only one still talking to me.
In all this, my family remained loyal with their silence. No one reported my interest in books or my strange behaviour to the Sy’Iss. Although I had never told anyone in my family about my discovery and, more importantly, about my decision to hide it from the Sy’Iss, I could see a dangerous pattern emerging. Like I had done at a younger age, my children and Eriéla were lying to the Sy’Iss.
Sometimes, when lying awake at night, I try to make myself believe that my children haven’t talked out of some kind of respect for their father. I imagine that deep inside, they must still love me, still see me as their father. This belief becomes stronger as I get closer to the eternal rest. Yet the most likely explanation is that their silence is fed by fear, fear that whatever fate befalls me will also befall them, and their children.
How long I have left is unknown to me. Up until now, I have felt old, certainly, my bones and muscles tired, but that is to be expected after a life of walking and running through the highlands of Yurita. I also feel alive in ways I have never experienced before. At the same time, my unrest has grown. I am unsatisfied here, even though I am told that I should be content, happy, and enjoy these last days in well-deserved tranquility.
I wish I could go outside more often and walk, maybe even roam one last time in Yurita, cross the bridge of Saril, look down and quiver from the fearsome heights.
I am not yet ready to leave.
*
Shading 7, year 3001, Dàr is 60.
Earlier this day, I came to a terrifying realization. The discovery came to me slowly, over the span of the last eight days living in this house. Small observations at first. Voices at my door at the strangest of times. A high number of protectors, and even a few soldiers, constantly coming and going around my lodging, on the roads not far away. My son being interrogated before entering and after exiting.
Then the signs became more flagrant. A constant guard at my door. Now two at all times. Uncanny noises and murmurs at random moments. Movements outside the house, heard through the walls. This morning, I awoke to see a face looking through my window. After I recuperated from the shock, I got up and moved toward the opening as fast as my aged body would allow me. I found the glade outside empty, the trees creaking, pushed around by a feeble wind. Or had it been the passing of someone sneaking away?
I am being watched.
This will make my work much harder, the writing take longer. I do not dare take the chance that someone might read some of these words over my shoulder. I need to make certain not to arouse suspicion, and so no more writing long into the hours of the night.
I am starting to worry that I will not be able to complete this work. The best I can do is write one letter at a time, one word at a time. And hope I won’t be discovered…
*
Falling 7, year 2965, Dàr is 24.
Following our unsuccessful search of the clearing, it took two days until Vìr and I could meet again. Those two nights were atrocious for me. Almost no sleep, with continual visions of the object and of the dark passage. Disturbing dreams. The daytime didn’t bring any reassurance. I tried to find the thing again but couldn’t. Doubts were plaguing me more and more.
Vìr and I met at his place. It was easier that way, quieter. He prepared some tea and we sat on facing benches in the backyard of his home. A few flowers were blooming. They were in the shape of five-pointed stars, red and pink, name
less to me. Leave it to Vìr to have flowers growing in the fall. It was beautiful and peaceful. Through the branches of tall trees, I could see the dark summits of Ul Darak far to the east.
“Something changed,” I said, “and I need to tell someone.”
Vìr took a sip, nodded slightly, encouraging. For a brief moment, his skin was the same colour as the dark rock of the Borders. No wonder some were distrustful of him. In Vi’Alana, there were some Torians, dark skinned, from Toria and the west. But not all of Ta’Énia’s inhabitants have the chance to travel to Vi’Alana. For many, Vìr was the first of his kind they had ever come in contact with. For them, he was not from the west, but from the east, from Ul Darak. No one could convince them otherwise.
“I previously said that I couldn’t remember anything of my time in the clearing,” I started. “It is now returning. It’s coming to me in my sleep. Dreams, images, so clear, so real. They return every time I close my eyes and lapse into slumber.”
“Give me a moment,” Vìr requested. He rushed inside, came back out with papers and ink. “To take notes,” he explained.
“The images are the same, over and over,” I continued. “I am sitting on the object, facing east. Suddenly, I am torn out of my body and thrust toward the Borders. Or so it feels. But I am not moving, not really, just seeing. Or being shown. And I am following a predetermined path, can hardly look sideways.”
I stopped, noticed that my hands were shaking, that I was about to drop my cup. Vìr took it from my tremulous fingers, deposited it on the bench to my left.
“Take your time,” he encouraged me.
I closed my eyes, tried to push the feeling away.
“I am not alone,” I admitted.
Vìr scribbled something very quickly, then looked at me.
“Not alone?” he asked.
I could but shake my head. The presence was not there at Vìr’s house. It was only present in my dreams. I told him so.
“The same presence that we felt in the forest?” he asked.
I nodded. Vìr put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“You are safe here,” he said. “If you can, continue.”
Curiosity showed in his manners, mixed with genuine worry.
“I move, closer and closer to the Borders, over deep chasms, in between high plateaus, ravines, cliffs. Always in a straight line, oscillating but slightly. I can feel the air getting colder as I approach Ul Darak. Then there are waterfalls to my right. I can hear them, distant, yet clearer and clearer. I can almost feel the moisture of the falls on my face, cheeks…but not quite.”
It was liberating to say these words. I had not expected that. And Vìr appeared to believe me.
“It is so beautiful. There is a lake under me, and then a ledge. And a large opening. Darkness inside.”
“A passage?” enquired Vìr.
“Maybe,” I said. “And that is when I wake.”
A few more notes put down.
“That is an incredible tale,” said Vìr.
I couldn’t help but feel proud that my words amazed Vìr. I then realized that I admired him, that I was looking for his support, his approval. Of all those surrounding me, fellow protectors and scholars, I admired the one who wasn’t from Ta’Énia, uncertain why.
“You are sure about going in a straight line, are you?” he asked.
“I am.”
“That is very interesting indeed,” he said. “We will have to investigate.”
Short silence.
Longer hesitation.
“I do not think so,” I said.
Vìr was surprised.
“I want to forget about all this,” I added.
It was not what Vìr had hoped for. Although I wanted so badly to please him, there were boundaries I was not ready to disregard.
“I apologize,” said Vìr quickly. “It must not be easy for you.”
He waited awhile, maybe hoping I would change my mind. I didn’t.
“Would you be opposed to me investigating on my own?” he asked.
I thought about this for a few moments. The urge to push everything away, to forget, was strong. But so was my curiosity.
“I accept,” I said, “but this, everything about it, has to stay between the two of us.”
“Agreed,” said Vìr with a smile, pleased.
*
True to his word, Vìr went exploring, was gone days at a time, lost in the Yurita Highlands. He found nothing.
As days turned into weeks, his support was constant. My nightmares grew worse. I found myself wanting and needing to talk, to free myself of the visions. The images became stronger and stronger, took me farther, through the dark entrance, deep into the passage, into a maze of underground tunnels. As I recounted what I’d seen, Vìr patiently listened, taking notes, so many of them, drawing a map even, putting down directions.
I started dreading going to sleep. Paradoxically, my belief was waning. With each day, I doubted my sanity more and more.
But Vìr, he never doubted. The bond between us grew. Our meetings became rituals, happening with the dawn or the dusk, always at Vìr’s place, drinking a hot cup of tea, sometimes outside in his garden, sometimes inside surrounded by the growing piles of papers and notes.
I continued to do patrols. Some days, I would try to find the object again, but it never returned and my days became a blind routine.
During this period, I learned the true meaning of friendship, of having one beside you who doesn’t judge, who listens. One who is always present, to help, to support. Yet one who is honest and tells you when you’re taking the wrong path. More than once, Vìr warned me not to doubt.
“This,” he said, “is the disease put upon you by this place. Try to think for yourself, try to stay awake. Do not fall back into old habits.”
I tried. I almost forgot about the Sy’Iss and the dangers. About reality.
About two months later, in the early days of the last month of the year, the nightmares suddenly disappeared. As if whisked away on a strong wind. As if nothing had ever happened. My wish had finally been granted.
My sleep became dreamless, deep and undisturbed. I felt normal again, and I liked it. So free.
This concerned Vìr.
“I can finally sleep, and the only thing you can say is that you are worried?”
Vìr never repeated his concerns, but I saw them in the way he looked at me, in the way his brows would cave in, just so. He saw me slipping away from him and couldn’t do anything about it.
I started to keep my distance and even skipped a few meetings. After all, I had nothing new to report. My absences grew more frequent. More often than not, I would leave Vìr waiting. I would keep an eye out for him, from a distance, but not let us come in contact. Just seeing him was enough for me, an illusion of friendship, but enough. I was rebellious and torn, as the whole thing was becoming an embarrassment.
That was when Vìr disappeared for several weeks. It was my turn to be worried. I couldn’t help it and thought something had happened to him. I had that image of a chasm opening in the ground and swallowing him whole. Now that I couldn’t even see him, I realized I missed him and our talks.
When he returned, I was relieved and we renewed our friendship. For the next month, we returned to our daily meetings.
“Have you ever been on the other side of the Fara mount?” he asked one morning.
“No,” I said, anxious. “Please Vìr, do not venture so far. There is nothing to be found.”
“You know there is,” he said, smiling.
He now preferred to stay out longer, saying the travelling back to Ta’Énia was inefficient and unnecessary. I smiled back, my humour good once more.
“I found something,” admitted Vìr.
My heart stopped and felt as if it had been dropped in cold water.
“You can’t be serious,” I said. “Fara is days away…”
“It is, and if you thought Yurita was vast, think again,” he said with such exci
tement in his voice. “There is a region on the other side, just as large, just as vast. You should see it, my friend. It is endless and majestic.”
If not for my dreams, I would have disbelieved his words.
“This is dangerous,” I said. “The Sy’Iss…”
“They do not need to know,” he said.
I nodded.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I can’t do this by myself,” he admitted. “I will die of old age before I am done.”
I didn’t understand his request at first. Then it hit me.
“No,” I said, “I can’t. I won’t…”
But Vìr shook his head.
“I know,” he said. “I would not ask it of you. But there is someone else who I think might be willing to help.”
“Who?”
He waited, let me think it over.
“Are you serious?” I asked again.
It could only be one person.
He nodded.
“Can we trust her?” I said.
“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “We can. No one is more reliable. Maéva helped me get here and has supported me ever since. She is asking questions, though, about my excursions. If I don’t involve her, I’m afraid she might discover it on her own. She already knows I am exploring Yurita, and the length of my recent outings is telling.”
I had noticed how close the two of them had become. Everybody had. Many talked about it. Most didn’t approve.
Had Vìr really been true to his promise to keep my secret? I tended to believe so. If he had already told Maéva, I would have no way of knowing. But then, why would he ask for my permission now? I decided to trust him and to support him. It was easy to see that he wanted this.
“Fine,” I said, “you can tell her.”
“Her alone,” he said, forestalling my next words, his smile so big. “The Sy’Iss must not know about this.”
There were now three of us, two of whom were scholars of the League. I was not worried, not yet.
*
Cloudburst 22, year 2965, Dàr is 24.
