After taking a moment to catch her breath, she glanced around. The plateau was bare. She had climbed the most difficult of the mountain peaks. From here, there were slow descents and minor ascents, but most of the mountain range was of lower elevation.
I’ve made it.
Eden’s voice came from below. “You okay?”
Halley smiled. “I’m great,” she shouted back. Her voice was full with emotion. “I’m just going to check the anchor and then I’ll come back down.”
When she was certain the anchor would hold, she got the descending device in place, and she stepped toward the edge of the cliff. The first step off the edge was the hardest – she had to have absolute faith in her preparations.
“Here I come,” she shouted. “Pull the rope tight.”
“Climb!” Eden shouted back.
The tug of the rope came against her harness and she leant her weight first gingerly and then fully against it. Carefully, she stepped from the horizontal ground of the plateau, to the vertical drop of the cliff face. Now her back faced the ground, as if she were lying on the air. She stared up at the blue sky. It was a slightly different shade from the last time she’d looked. The day was beginning to wane. Her right hand held the rope tightly, locked against the descending device.
She moved the rope slightly towards her body and felt it slide slowly through. Slowly, very slowly, she walked her way down the rock face. When the pace became too fast, she simply opened her arm to the side and slowed her progress. Each individual inch of the rock face was important. There was no time to think of fear; the task at hand took all her concentration. She was fully immersed.
When she saw the top of Eden’s head, she knew she’d made it. The last few feet down were almost fun. She made it to the ledge. The ground felt wobbly. It took a moment to realize it was just her legs shaking.
“You did it!” Eden cheered. “Now it’s my turn!”
Halley nodded. “Just let me catch my breath, and you can go.”
A few minutes later, Eden was off. She scrambled up, following the line Halley had taken. In no time, she stood at the top of the mountain, waving and smiling.
Now to solve the real problem: how to get herself up to the plateau again safely, with no one on belay? Free climb it without a rope? She shook her head: if she slipped just once, she was dead. Maybe she could tie the rope off.
“Eden, can you undo the rope from your harness and throw it down?”
Eden quickly did as she asked. The two lengths of rope now hung side by side, as they had when Halley had first found the rope.
I don’t know if it will work, but it’s the only chance. She selected the first carabiner, which was still attached to the solid rock face. Taking great care, she tied the loose end of the rope to it, ensuring that its gate was facing the correct direction so the rope could not accidentally pull it open. She used a Figure-8 knot, re-threading it to make sure it couldn’t work loose. It was a basic knot, but she checked it carefully. The other end of the rope was still attached to her harness. She flexed her fingers: they didn’t have an ascending device. She would simply have to hold on and pull herself up the rope. Any fall would be limited by the length of the rope. The higher she climbed, the riskier a fall would become. If any of the anchors pulled loose…No, she couldn’t let herself think of the consequences. She would make it.
Her hands gripped the rope, and she pulled hard with her back and her arms, willing herself up the steep face. She climbed with her feet up against the wall. Sweat poured into her eyes, and her arms burned with effort. This time, she climbed steadily and with precision, knowing that too fast or too slow would wear her muscles out before she reached the top; she knew the line she had to climb and her feet found their placements by instinct. When she got to the point where the rock had broken free, where she’d free-fallen, for just an instant the world went black. Just fear. Breathe through it. She forced herself to stay still and waited until the wall came back into focus. Cautiously, she bounced across to the second half of the line and continued up.
When she reached the top, she simply kept climbing with her feet and arms until she was standing vertically on the solid, wonderful plateau. She sunk first to her knees, and then fell onto her back. Her whole body was shaking.
“I’m okay,” she said, to reassure both herself and Eden. Just for a minute, need to rest. She let her eyes shut. Eden watched her: Halley slept immediately and soundlessly.
She dreamed of Trance:
He was standing on the shallow camel-colored steps, where she had last seen him. He was alone. A moment passed, and then the eagles came in convocations. There were dozens of them, then hundreds. Trance shut his eyes and raised his arms. With talon and beak, the eagles dismantled him, swallowed him, and in time, returned him to the landscape.
In her sleep, the thin skin below Halley’s left eye twitched. A melodic voice soothed her, speaking in the dream.
“Ah, recall: the eagle is, first and foremost, a bird of prey. It lives according to its nature. What the eagles have done is good. Because of their right action, Trance, in time, will too make the wildflowers bloom…”
When Halley awoke, she slowly sat up. Eden, sitting beside her, was quietly humming.
Upright, Halley started at what she saw: sitting close by was a tall woman wearing a bright orange climbing harness and outdoor clothes. For a moment, Halley was frightened, but she quickly relaxed: there was a familiarity about the woman that was both immediate and reassuring. Whoever she was, the woman belonged here up on this windswept summit, Queen of nothing, yet Queen of all.
The woman was sitting in profile, cross-legged, staring out over the expansive view. The sound of Halley’s sitting up had not stirred her, nor had Eden’s humming. The woman sat as if she could sit for years, needing nothing, being troubled by nothing. Her head was positioned directly over her spine, her chin slightly lifted. Even in stillness, there was a visible elasticity about her body. It was reflected in her hands, which rested palms down on her knees. Halley imagined she could see the energy flow from the woman’s hands into her body and out again, bathing her in an infinite pool of warm blue light.
The woman’s skin was dark, burnished by the sun perhaps, or maybe she was just naturally this deep, lovely chocolate color. Her age was difficult to discern – the light shimmered off her skin so brightly it dazzled Halley’s eyes.
Drawn by her glow, Halley and Eden exchanged a look, and without a word, they approached the woman.
She did not shift her posture or her head, and she did not speak, but her hands beckoned to them, directing them by means of a gesture to sit by her side. It seemed appropriate to sit cross-legged as well; they positioned themselves one on either side of her. Even though the woman was tall, Halley did not feel small sitting beside her. It was as if her height augmented rather than diminished her.
“Ah, I am glad you have finally woken,” the woman said. “Look – the eagles too are dancing for joy.” Her voice was rich, reminding Halley of the full sound of a river after heavy rain. Its melodious tone lacked all self-consciousness.
The woman stretched her right arm long and straight, her palm lifted heavenwards, her fingers spread wide. She was offering the vista to Halley as a gift. Halley looked away from the woman’s profile, and out to the view, but not before noticing the three parallel scars that were etched upon the woman’s arm.
While she had slept, the blue of the sky had softened, becoming the light blue of a baby’s blanket. Thin clouds were lit from below by the afternoon sun. The eagles were soaring in the air, swooping and diving, riding the winds. There was a sense of jubilance about their movements that Halley had not seen before, and she was mesmerized.
“Yes. It is good to look on beauty such as this,” the woman said, echoing Halley’s thoughts.
She let her right hand fall gently onto her knee, this time resting it with her palm upwards. Her left hand was still palm downwards on her knee; she shifted it just slightly so th
at the fingertips of this hand now also grazed the earth. Her silence held the three of them as they gazed outwards, and it was several moments before she spoke again.
“You know, Akilina,” she finally said. “Yes, you know.” Her eyes followed the large birds in their swooping games. “This is your way: the way of the eagle.”
Halley felt the words as a swoooosh, as a soaring sensation in her chest. “What did you call me?” she asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it spoken again in the woman’s river voice.
“Akilina. The beautiful Latin word for Eagle. Much lovelier, said that way, don’t you think?” she replied.
It was as if Halley were being pulled taller by a golden thread that linked the crown of her head with the base of her spine. Her chin tilted slightly upwards. “I had forgotten that name,” she answered slowly. Her posture became a mirror image of the woman’s. Eden looked at her and smiled; Eden had always known she was of the eagle. She had never lost her way.
“Akilina, you have undertaken a tremendous journey,” the woman said. “You have learned what you came here to learn, that you are powerful beyond any of your imaginings. You have recalled your true nature, recognized for the first time your beauty. You have done this through the leaving of Fernando, the healing of Gail, and Hope, and Little One. It has come also through your courage in recalling your true history with Nick, and the releasing of your parents to their truth, so that they may rest in peace.”
Halley sat immensely still: she was seeing her long journey play out before her.
“The losses of your life, you have grieved for and accepted,” the woman continued. “From your errors, you have gained wisdom. You have found the courage to inhale your darkness, and, perhaps more difficult, to bathe in your light.” She stopped. She turned to look directly at Halley for the first time. “This is your reward; this is your birthright.”
The woman’s gesture offered Halley the view again and though Halley wanted to look, she couldn’t yet; she couldn’t bear to break contact with the woman’s candid gaze. In her eyes was an absolute transparency, allowing Halley to see all the way down to her depths. Her eyes were fathomless, infinite, the deepest of wide-open spaces. Yet they did not pull or drown or threaten; instead, her eyes opened Halley and this opening was good. Halley had the impression of brown and cinnamon, gold and air, of limitless compassion.
The woman reached out and rested a warm hand on Halley’s shoulder, and Halley felt an aching at her touch, a sense of absolute fullness. She had never been touched with such acceptance before, as if the very universe were flowing through the warm palm of the woman’s hand. The woman left her hand there, and Halley felt benevolence infuse the air.
Looking back towards the vista, the woman continued, “You have had the courage to find this place. Now feel the space around you. Now see.”
The air, which had been dotted with eagles before, now became rich with them. Their wings did not flail or flutter. They rode the wind with no apparent effort, shifting with the air currents, circling and rising and falling. There was wonder in the effortlessness of their flight, in the inherent stillness in their movement. Their black lines against the white of the clouds brought to Halley’s mind the music of celebration.
Without thinking, Halley said, “Come with me. Come with me on the rest of this journey.”
She had not analyzed her reasons and she really didn’t even know where she was going next: she simply wished to remain near the woman, who was the essence of kindness, personified.
“Ah, yes, I will certainly accompany you,” the woman replied. “But for now, simply be here.”
They sat in silence as the sun set. It took time. Halley felt the colors immerse her. Finally, the sun began to sink below the horizon, dropping like a flat rock in deep water. The woman turned to look at Halley again, and it was as if the sunset had been absorbed into her eyes, and had speckled them with gold.
“It is good you stated your desire immediately, your wish for me to journey with you. There is great power in knowing what you want, and in speaking it aloud. We will go. But first, if you choose, you and Eden may stay with me here tonight, before we travel on. I have much to speak of with you.”
“I feel as if I’ve known you a long time,” Halley said.
“Her name’s Jordan,” Eden whispered in Halley’s ear, breaking her long silence. “She’s the one who put up the rope…”
Jordan placed a hand on Eden’s shoulder as well.
Halley looked back and forth between the two, with dawning understanding. “You know each other?”
Eden nodded solemnly. “I’ve known Jordan all my life,” she said.
The skin between Halley’s eyes creased. “Have I?” she asked Jordan. “Have I known you all my life as well?”
Jordan kept her eyes focused on Halley and did not answer the question immediately; she was comfortable with long silences.
Halley shut her eyes and swallowed. It was the time of immensity, just between the setting of the sun and the onset of night. Halley felt as if she were floating just above the earth; she had a sense of connection to something far larger than herself, pulling her upwards. She opened her eyes to stare at the vista, which was turning from colored to various shades of gray, black and white, and found she knew the answer to her question. “I have known you all my life. I know you, because you are me.”
Jordan’s eyes twinkled.
Eden leant back behind Jordan to whisper again in Halley’s ear, “Can we stay, please? Have you noticed? She’s got the kindest eyes.”
Halley nodded, a very small, quiet nod. She felt the ground under her once again.
When the sun had fully set, the stars poked white pinholes in the black fabric of the sky, and the three of them stood. Halley and Eden shook their legs, which had cramped from the long time of stillness. Jordan, however, simply arose, and was immediately at ease.
There was a low grumble from somewhere.
Eden giggled. “Was that your stomach?”
Halley looked embarrassed to have broken the mood. “I’m famished,” she admitted.
“Ah, that is good,” Jordan said. “You will need strength for the rest of your journey, for your return. To assist you, you will also require great warmth tonight. Eden, perhaps you can help?”
Eden giggled. “Sure! I’ll get us some food and build us a fire.”
Turning her back to them, she tossed a small pile of sticks together. She blew on her hands, and the space was filled with the warming light of a fire. Some time later, she presented them with a dinner of root vegetables and rice, served upon huge flat leaves.
The aroma of the simple food made Halley’s mouth fill with saliva. The sensation was almost painful.
They began the meal under starlight, sitting in a circle around the fire. Tall flames licked at the bits of broken tree branch, swaying orange, white and red. At the very edges of wood, the flames were a hot blue. The blue drew Halley’s gaze, marking, as it did, the line between what was and what was to be.
Jordan interrupted her thoughts. “It is right to ask all your questions.”
Halley hesitated, chewed an unfamiliar vegetable, and swallowed. Eating with her fingers was a strangely pleasant sensation. She pinched some rice between two fingers, and placed it in her mouth. Its taste was fresh and cleansing. Licking the stickiness from her fingers, she let her hand rest in her lap. The first question she wanted to ask sounded crazy: Is all this real? How could she ask that, when she could feel the earth solid beneath her, could taste the food?
“You must ask the questions.”
Halley hesitated. Did she want to know the answers? What would it mean to her, if this weren’t real? Would it mean she was crazy? Or, perhaps, dead? She ate another mouthful of rice. She’d spent much of her life avoiding the truth. Not knowing had its costs too. She placed the broad leaf-plate on the ground, and sat up straighter.
“You don’t have to stop eating,” Eden giggled. “It’s not as serious
as all that.”
Halley didn’t smile. Depending on the answer to her question, her whole world could collapse.
Eden picked up the leaf-plate and placed it back on Halley’s lap.
The edge of the leaf felt good between her fingertips, real and substantial. She gripped it tightly.
“You must trust. Believe you are strong enough to know the answers to your questions.”
“Like a leap of faith?” Halley said.
“Even eagles must take one, the first time they fly.”
The words made Halley’s ears buzz. She took a drink of water from her canteen, and swallowed hard. “Since I left Fernando at the crossroads-that-was-not-a-crossroads, my journey has been… these people I’ve met, who knew me, who seemed somehow to be me…” Halley stopped. “I knew the waterfall, and the house on the plains. I knew the forest and the wildflowers. And the secret room…” She ran her fingers through her hair, mussing it.
“And…” Jordan prompted her.
Halley let her hands fall to her lap.
Jordan looked at her through clear eyes. The silence held.
“Was it real? Were those people real? Jordan…are you…are you real?”
Jordan held her hands up to the fire to warm them. “Ah, Akilina, who is to say what is real? Was your life while you lived with Fernando real, authentic? I think not. How could it have been, when you were not living the truth?”
“Yes, but…”
That wasn’t an answer; it was an evasion.
“But you need to know,” Jordan said. “This question of real or not is very important to you.”
How could it not be? Halley wondered.
“Look at the stars,” Jordan said, gesturing with one hand.
Halley looked up. In the towns, the stars were masked by ground light; in the city, they disappeared completely. On this mountain-top, the multitude of stars made the night more light than dark. She had never seen so many at once. This was authentic; this was spectacular. Halley bit the inside of her lip.
Akilina: Out of the Woods Page 26
