by S. S. Segran
The Elders had been overjoyed when Kody informed them earlier of the image he’d seen during the night. In fact, they seemed more pleased than Kody felt, which slightly puzzled the friends.
Huyani and Akol were tickled by the group’s nervous energy and urged them to take it easy. “You will have your mentors soon enough,” Huyani said.
“Will they be people we haven’t met?” Mariah asked.
“The Elders themselves will be teaching you,” Akol said. “You will each be assigned to one of them. The training ground is more or less divided into five sections, and each has been fitted for the development of your individual skills. There you shall practice alone with your mentor.”
It was another ten long minutes before they spotted the Elders walking up the grassy knoll toward them. Nageau greeted the friends and said, “Aari. Ashack will be your teacher throughout your training. Akol and Huyani will rotate translating his instructions for you.”
Aari nodded.
“Jag, you shall train under Elder Tayoka. As with Aari, either Akol or Huyani will act as translators.”
Jag glanced at the red-haired Elder and nodded.
“Tegan, Tikina will be guiding you.”
Tegan smiled; of all the Elders, she was happy to have either Nageau or Tikina train her.
“Mariah.” Mariah looked up as Nageau addressed her. “Saiyu will be working alongside you to hone your skills.”
Nageau then turned to face Kody. Kody grinned. “Guess I know who my mentor is,” he said.
Nageau smiled and looked to everyone else. “Once you walk through this door, younglings, your training formally commences.” He clapped his hands. “Let us begin.”
The Elders opened the wooden gate. The friends entered, skittish and eager. They were still unclear what to expect, but they had a growing suspicion that Akol was right—the training would be invaluably beneficial to them. They wanted to excel in life but had never been sure how or where to begin. This could be the start.
The Elders shut the gate firmly. At once, each Elder walked in different directions. The quick glances Akol and Huyani lent the friends were guidance enough, and the teenagers jogged off in pursuit of their mentors.
31
Breyas and Keno had marched for three days along the Mayet river, expecting to come upon the source of the illness. So far, they’d had no such luck. It was nearly midday, though the sky was dark and overcast.
“I wonder how the other two are faring,” Keno said.
Breyas took a sip from his water pelt, then wiped aside the shaggy dark hair matted to his forehead. “Knowing Aydar and Rikèq, they must be plowing along just as we are.”
A few birds flew back to their nests, cawing. The men eyed them warily, wondering if any one of the creatures had ingested the poison. As he watched, a desperate need to pin the blame of his father’s illness on something, anything, swelled in Breyas chest. “I really do hope we will not have to travel up that mountain,” he muttered. “It has been a curse to our community.”
“Breyas!” Keno reproached. “Nature is our friend, our home. No misfortune shall taint that relationship.”
Breyas made a sound deep in his throat in response. Though Keno tried to persuade him otherwise, he was still convinced that Ayen’et was the demon’s spawn of bad luck in their forest.
They ploughed on until they reached the point where the river joined the one Rikèq and Aydar were tracking. They tested the water and the results showed that it was contaminated. Disappointed, they plunked down on a couple of boulders and pulled out their lunches. They were only a few bites into their meals when they heard their names being called. Rikèq and Aydar made their way over, waving their hands above their heads, and the four men reunited in a friendly greeting.
“Any luck finding the source of the contamination?” Keno asked.
Rikèq took a seat beside him. “None. It looks as though we will have to cross this river.”
“Splendid,” Breyas responded dryly through a mouthful of food. He glared at Ayen’et up ahead. Its peak was hidden by overhanging gray clouds. “Do you remember the stories about Ayen’et that we were told as children?”
Aydar smirked. “You mean the ones of it being alive and that its peak, where it is often shrouded by clouds, an all-seeing eye would spot disobeying youngsters and carry them away into the night to feed on them?”
“Yes.”
“Tsk. Those are tall tales to encourage children not to stay awake past their bedtime. I tried telling those same stories to my nephew when he was younger.” With an amused grimace, Aydar added, “Hutar did not believe them, though.”
“Of course they are tales. But I remember how my father used to describe the mountain to me when I was a young lad.” Breyas shuddered. “I suppose old feelings do not fade easily.”
“Did you find anything out of the norm these past three days?” Keno asked, wanting to change the subject.
“Nothing much on the contamination front,” Aydar said. He leaned forward. “But we do have a story for you.”
He told them about the encounter with the mountain lions, and ended the tale with how a sole Guardian had gone out of its way to save him and Rikèq.
“Incredible!” Keno exclaimed.
“What of you?” Rikèq asked. “What did you come across?”
Breyas wrinkled his nose. “More carcasses, and birds and fish strewn here and there.”
“We saw a doe and her calf, too,” Keno added. “Both were dead, and were being fed on by some birds. They were a distance away from the river so they may not have been contaminated, but Breyas ran at the carcasses and scattered the birds. He claims that he was just trying to keep them from possibly falling ill, but I saw his childlike streak.”
“I was simply gathering a little bit of joy for myself,” Breyas claimed. “My mother always told me that we should come to the aid of others with a happy heart.”
The quartet chuckled and finished off their meals, then did a quick check of their supplies to see if they all had enough food and water. Once satisfied that everything was set, they headed over to where the two rivers became one.
“The current is strong here,” Rikèq noted. “We are going to need our boats.”
The men shook off their journey packs. The specially treated, fin-shaped moose hide was designed to be used as a kayak once unfolded, or a one-person tent when completely extended. Sturdy, retractable wooden frames were anchored to one side of the pack and could latch on to the other side once folded out. It was an ingenious device, designed by Magèo many decades ago when he still had a liking for the outdoors.
Once the men were ready, they carried their kayaks to the edge of the water. “Be careful,” Rikèq warned. “We do not know if the poisoning occurs solely through consumption or also through contact, so avoid the water at all cost.”
Pushing their kayaks halfway into the river, they carefully climbed in and used their paddles to push off from the shore. Almost immediately the current tried to drag them downstream, but the men were strong and paddled forward, fighting the flow furiously.
“Almost there!” Keno shouted.
The bank on the other side was just a few yards away. Aydar brought up the rear and paddled after the others. Without warning, a trough opened under his boat and tilted him violently to one side. He frantically shifted his weight and, after what felt like an eternity, managed to balance out his kayak. He gripped his paddle, knuckles turning white, and paddled to the shore where his friends helped him out.
“Are you alright?” Rikèq asked, being careful to not touch the wet parts of Aydar’s kayak as he pulled it onto land to dry with the others.
“Yes.” Aydar placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head back, counting to thirty until his muscles were no longer tense.
The men only had to wait a few minutes for their kayaks to dry before folding them back up into their journey packs; the hide was treated and waxed so that moisture never clung for long.
As Breyas tested the water for contamination, Keno peeked over his shoulder. “Well?”
“It is still contaminated,” Breyas said. “It appears we will have to continue toward Ayen’et.”
“That should take around half a day.” Aydar sipped from his water pelt. “Shall we get moving?”
The men noticed a couple of birds on the ground as they followed the river. Though now relatively used to the sight of dead creatures, it was unnerving to think that there was something in the water stealing away the very life force of living, breathing beings around them.
The group chatted amongst themselves, sharing stories and laughing, trying to ignore the mountain range as it steadily grew larger in their field of view. Ayen’et’s peak protruded ominously from the rest. While it appeared to be part of the chain, it was actually a solitary mountain that stood a mile in front of the others.
During a lull in the conversation, Breyas said in a low voice, “With any luck, we will find the source soon.” He gestured at the towering peak. “It seems like the closer we are to the mountain, the gloomier the forest gets.”
Rikèq glanced around. “That did not occur to me until you brought it up.”
“I have never been so close to Ayen’et,” Keno whispered.
Just then, Breyas picked up a distant, deep reverberating sound that carried on for several seconds. He halted as the noise died away. “Did you hear that?” he muttered.
“Hear what?” Rikèq asked.
“That sound . . . like faraway thunder.”
The men stilled, waiting. When the noise didn’t return, they hiked on but didn’t speak. They took note of the accuracy of Breyas’ observation: The forest did seem gloomier the closer they got to the mountains.
A raven shot out from a tree and swooped overhead, cawing. The men twitched involuntarily. Then, the rumbling noise returned only to die once more. Keno looked to Breyas. “We most definitely heard that.”
“What do you suppose it is?” Aydar asked.
Breyas fiddled with the spherical timer in his hands. “It does not sound like any animal I know.”
They kept up the steady pace until the next interval. As they prepared to do another test of the waters, the rumbling noise sounded again, louder now. The men slowly turned to the towering mountain.
“It is coming from there,” Rikèq breathed.
They were less than eager to continue their trek, but they knew it had to be done. Aydar took the lead and the group reached the base of the mountain as the sun began its descent beyond the low-hanging clouds, out of sight.
The rumbling came and went periodically. At the foot of the mountain, it was loud enough that the men almost felt it as much as they heard it.
They trailed the river until they found an opening where the water emerged a third of the way up the slope. Aydar took out a portable lamp and lit it, then led the way through the yawning mouth of the cave. It was dark and wet, and two narrow banks flanked the river. In here, whenever the noise came back, the men could clearly feel the vibrations all around them.
“Something is happening here,” Keno murmured. “Breyas, could you check the water, please?”
Breyas crouched by the river and retrieved a sample. After a few moments, he announced, “Still contaminated.”
The rumbling and vibrations returned, and Breyas nearly lost his balance. He held onto a rock embedded in the dirt to stop himself from falling into the water and waited for the disturbance to fade.
Aydar shone his lamp ahead. “The cave turns here, my friends.” He looked back at the others. “Shall we?”
It was obvious that he was not eager to continue their quest, but Rikèq was firm. “Turning back now is not an option.”
Aydar took the lead again and rounded the corner, disappearing from sight. Rikèq and Keno trailed after him.
Breyas wavered, facing the mouth of the cave. He caught the last little bit of light outside, then turned to join the others, the darkness enveloping them whole.
PART THREE
32
The view from the large, frameless glass window where Adrian Black stood was nothing short of astounding. The shimmering blue waters of the bay were dotted with countless sailing boats catching the breeze on this picture-perfect morning. To the west, on the iconic Golden Gate Bridge, traffic was busy as usual for a weekday. Parts of the waterfront belonging to the small artsy city of Sausalito peeked out at Black. Not a man of the arts, he turned away, uninterested.
To the north, the bay’s waves broke onto Alcatraz Island where tourists armed with cameras zealously explored the site that once held many infamous prisoners.
Black looked away from the window into the boardroom. Captivating as the view outside was, his mind was burdened with an urgent business matter that, if left unresolved, might cost him more than his job.
The boardroom was on the top floor of a nondescript forty-story building, owned by a well-funded establishment with a global reach called Phoenix Corporation. The gray-colored tower blended with the other high-rise buildings in downtown San Francisco. Fondly referred to as “Tower 51” by its inhabitants—a joke spun from the military base in Nevada due to the secrets that lurked in the corporate corridors—it served as the company’s head office, and its unremarkable appearance deceived many about what lay within.
Black scanned the empty chairs, waiting impatiently for his associates to arrive, even though he was early by choice. The boardroom was extravagantly fitted out. A deep-red mahogany table surrounded by twelve luxurious black leather chairs served as an impressive centerpiece. At the end of the table farthest from the windows, a chair was missing. In its place was a large silver screen mounted onto a curved wall panel.
Though visually impressive, what escaped the eye was even more remarkable. Cleverly designed and neatly tucked into the structures of the room were a plethora of high-tech devices, including a satellite-linked communication system that connected the company’s entire global operations; a multi-projector holographic conferencing platform, and state of the art gesture-controlled computers concealed inside the polished conference table for each person seated.
Behind the curved wall was a well-appointed lounge with an exquisite and fully serviced bar where the executives could unwind after a hard day’s work.
As CEO of Phoenix Corporation, Black was responsible for running a diverse establishment with international subsidiaries engaged in mining, armaments, biotech, chemicals and construction. Discreetly, the company also made substantial contributions to selected social organizations, media groups and politicians. The broad scope of its operations kept him on his toes and he enjoyed the challenge. He was, however, beginning to feel the stress from one crucial project where things were not moving at the expected pace.
He was deep in thought and did not hear the footsteps on the plush carpet as one of his colleagues entered the boardroom. Jerry Li, a short, tubby man who always wore a bowtie with his suits, was the chief financial officer for the corporation. His black hair was gelled back and his eyes, gleaming with mischief, were framed by large, thick-rimmed glasses. He tiptoed over to Black and startled the six-foot-three CEO with a high-pitched, “Good morning!”
Black jumped. “Li! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
Li grinned. “I am, but it never seems to work.”
Black shook his head and readjusted his tie. “Still trying to grab my job?” he jested. “I’ve never met a senior executive, especially a financial wizard, who is so doggone cheerful all the time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? The higher up the ladder I am, the more of a stick in the mud I have to be?”
“It means,” a raspy voice cut in, “that you are quite a unique fellow.”
The men turned to the newcomer. Dr. Albert Bertram, the chief science officer of Phoenix, came strolling into the boardroom with a thermos of hot coffee in hand. He was a rather plump man in his early sixties, though it was clear that in his younger days he had been q
uite handsome. With a full head of silver hair and blue eyes, he could have passed for Santa Claus if only he had the red hat and suit to put on . . . and if he weren’t usually so gruff.
Li smiled. “Why thank you, Al.”
Dr. Bertram barely returned the smile and raised his thermos at Black. “Good morning to you, Adrian.” His voice had a trace of a German accent.
“Mmph. It would have been nice if you all arrived on time.”
“We are on time. You chose to come early, old boy.”
“Where are the others? We need to begin.”
Just as he spoke, the executives of two subsidiaries entered, greeting the others as they took their places around the table. Dr. John Tabrizi was the head of Quest Chemicals, the chemical research and manufacturing arm of Phoenix. Luigi Dattalo headed the armaments division known as Quest Defense; he’d just flown in from Nevada for the meeting.
The three men by the window went to take their respective seats. Black tapped something on his screen. “Linda, do we have Vlad on conference yet?”
A woman’s voice replied over the intercom. “We’re trying to establish the satellite connection, Mr. Black. It might take a little while. We’re not getting through for some reason.”
“Keep at it, Linda. This is important.”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Black.”
The men conversed quietly for the next few minutes until the voice returned. “We have Mr. Ajajdif on line three, Mr. Black.”
“Thanks, Linda.” Black tapped his computer again. “Vlad, you there?”
There was some static for a couple of moments, then a deep voice, tinted with a heavy Russian accent, came on. “I am here, Adrian.” Vladimir Ajajdif was to be the sixth person in the meeting. He was the head of Quest Mining, a Phoenix subsidiary and currently on assignment at a distant location with his team.
