by Jon Saboe
He then found himself (in his dream) back on board with the men of the Urbat—who were unaware they were the only ones alive left in the world. Strangely, they were happy, healthy, and well–fed: excited about their mission and looking forward to returning with great reports. Peleg watch in dismay as he realized they could not possibly know there was no Citadel—or civilization awaiting them. No one to report to.
He looked down and saw that his weight, too, had returned, and that there was plenty of food, water, and even wine on board. Apparently he had just eaten, for he was full of roast lamb and figs.
Serug was approaching him with a huge smile on his face—his large gold earring twisting in the breeze. He was trying to say something, but for all of its detail, Peleg’s vision was devoid of sound.
He awoke suddenly to hammering pain in his stomach, and he rolled over on his face, trying to flush the dream images from his faltering mind. He balled his hand into a fist and placed it under his abdomen to create pressure in an attempt to alleviate his hunger pains.
But two thoughts troubled him more than the physical pain. However, he wasn’t sure which one caused more anxiety. The thought that they would soon be dead; or the realization that everyone else in the world would ultimately die, too.
Because then, the demise of those aboard the Urbat would have even less significance.
“Land!”
The cry came from a scout in the forecastle.
It was early morning, but a low fog was lifting, revealing a rocky shape on the northeastern horizon.
Peleg had slept in and missed his morning measurements. He jumped up and headed for the main deck where several other men had overcome their fatigue and hunger and were gathering to confirm the announcement for themselves.
“North of the sunrise! Off the starboard bow!”
The men squinted into the emerging sunrise and watched as a rocky shape slowly emerged.
Land meant food. Plants, roots, and perhaps even eggs! And if they were miraculously arriving somewhere along the southern continent, their might even be animals for meat!
Their initial excitement faded, however, as they approached the land and saw that it was only a lifeless rock jutting out of the sea. As they passed it on their port side, their agonizing hunger pains slowly resurfaced to the forefront of their thoughts as this cruel distraction of momentary hope slowly disappeared behind them. Soon it was gone, and they maintained only a minimal optimism that additional land would appear again soon.
Later that afternoon, a thin line appeared along the horizon to the east, and it rapidly became apparent that they were nearing a large coastline.
Soon trees and other foliage could be seen, and they began actively looking for a place to set anchor.
Excitement mounted as they drew closer, but it soon became apparent that the shore rose steeply, and it would be difficult to establish any kind of camp.
There was a loud splash, and Peleg turned to see one of the oarsmen swimming for the shore.
Soon others followed, and despite the protestations of Captain Phaxâd, the starving men would not be deterred from the relief that was sure to be found on this new land.
They anchored a safe distance offshore, and soon the dinghy was making trips to deposit the remaining skeletal crewmen on the narrow beach. There were trees and plants bearing oranges, plantains, and huge oversized grapes. Soon mangos and coconuts were also found, and after some initial gorging, plans began to take place concerning hunting and preparing fires.
The eleven men with lesions had to be helped into the dingy, since they were experiencing extreme joint pains. They carefully made their way to shore, and soon were joining the others in their rabid feast. Within a week, their sores had healed, their stiffness and aches were gone, and their health appeared to be on the path to full recovery.
For the next three weeks they restocked their holds with dried fruits, roots, wild grains and figs. They also discovered some open ranges higher in the hills where wild boars and zebras roamed, and soon they were curing meats and preparing them for storage.
However, the Urbat required a major overhaul, and they needed to find a better place to establish a more permanent port. When they were ready, they pulled up anchor and traveled along the coast for three days until they found a large beach where they could assemble the kind of settlement needed for the lengthy repairs.
For the next several months, land was cleared to plant wheat and cotton, and lumber was harvested to build food storage facilities and makeshift housing. But the biggest project was the construction of a fully-functional dry-dock; and when it was completed, the Urbat was emptied, and all of the men slowly pulled the weary but faithful frame out of the water and rolled her up into the struts and scaffolding where Untash took charge and began the process of cleaning and rebuilding.
During this time, Peleg was finally able to establish their position with greater accuracy. Although he had lost track of the number of days since their departure, he used the small celestial calculator that Thaxad had given him (he privately called it his ‘Astrolabe-in-a-box’), and as the nights progressed, he was able to make comparative measurements between the fixed stars and the different planets until he was quite sure of their longitude within a few degrees.
He wished (as he had countless many times before) that he had not lost his other refraction disc, since he would have liked to continue studying the four small lights he had seen traveling around Enki. Assuming their motions were consistent, they would have made an excellent timekeeper.
He poured through all of his notes and charts and attempted to backtrack his calculations in an effort to create a better map of the places they had been. It was important that future explorers and merchants who wished to use Phaxâd’s Passage have the most accurate information possible.
“We are several hundred leagues south of the Great Western Sea,” Peleg declared to Captain Phaxâd, “and I am sure we are along the western coast of the Southern Continent. I have made some short expeditions in the surrounding area, and even made some long-range cartographic plots using Zini.”
“Very good,” Phaxâd responded. “We’re going to be here several more months to rebuild the Urbat and manufacture the necessary supplies. Although you can use that time to explore the area, make sure that creating a reliable map of our polar passage remains your top priority.”
During this period, Thaxad would often disappear for days at a time. His latest absence had lasted for eight days, and upon his return, Peleg carefully approached his hut the following morning and gently tapped on the doorframe.
“Yes?” came Thaxad’s voice, which started low, dipped lower, and then slowly rose to complete the question.
“Um, welcome back,” said Peleg.
“Chief Peleg.” The Mentor’s voice remained hidden in the darkness within. “Enter.”
The thatched roof allowed almost no light to enter, but as he peered into the room, he saw a sheet of blackness that contrasted with the internal dimness. He pressed forward and discovered a curtain which bisected the room, but parted when he pressed into it. He entered and found himself in a pitch-black enclosure.
Mentor Thaxad was seated facing a glass object which looked like a small aquarium. A tiny, flickering blue-flame from a fish-oil lamp provided the only light, and seemed to be heating some other unrecognizable apparatus. Peleg watched as Thaxad adjusted himself on his stool, pulled a small wooden handle next to a leather flask which looked like a canteen, and then grunted.
He abruptly rose, reached for small rope overhead, and pulled to reveal a small opening which allowed a bright stream of sunlight to target the glass box.
“You should see this,” he ordered with a short wave of his hand.
Peleg approached, and Thaxad pointed to the “aquarium”.
Peleg peered into the container and noticed small droplets of moisture clinging to the outside.
“It’s a box of steam,” he said, the swelling aura of suspense sudden
ly deflated.
“Focus inside,” commanded Thaxad.
Peleg’s eyes bored into the interior, and Thaxad’s large head soon joined him as they stared together.
Suddenly a small black dot appeared and headed straight for Peleg before veering off to the left and disappearing.
A cold sweat suddenly broke out on Peleg’s back, and he turned to Thaxad.
“What was …?”
Thaxad silenced him with a wave and grabbed the back of his head, turning it back towards the glass.
As he continued to stare, he saw other paths tearing through the fog, and as his eyes adjusted, he realized that at any given time there were three or four lines starting—each one creating its own path in a variety of spirals, angles, and trajectories. He kept watching them appear and disappear until the interior of the glass began to fog over, and the external condensation finally made observation impossible.
“What is it?” asked Peleg, when he had finally found his tongue.
“It’s a mixture of water and alcohol under low pressure, heated to produce thermal extremes.”
“No,” insisted Peleg. “I mean, what were those thing? Some kind of animal?”
“I don’t know,” was the unexpected answer.
Peleg had a hundred questions, but he forced himself to be silent, hoping that Thaxad would elaborate.
Thaxad straightened himself and said, “Serug and I have been studying this phenomena since our journey began. We have had numerous discussions and theories, but we have never been able to determine any kind of environmental cause. Cold or hot weather; changes in latitude; night or day; nothing seems to affect their rate of occurrence.”
He turned to look at Peleg.
“Whatever they are, these tiny objects seem to move through everything. And we’re pretty sure they are objects—they respond to magnets, and react to each other. What you’ve seen here are their travels through my glass box. I believe they are actually much smaller than the eye can see, but the lines you just saw are evidence of their passage. Apparently they fill the entire cosmos, and I can’t help but wonder if they tear tiny holes wherever they go.”
He studied Peleg’s eyes while Peleg became very restless as he imagined himself being peppered with these tiny objects, creating invisible, bloodless slits as they coursed through his body.
“The only variance we’ve seen,” Thaxad continued, “is their increase. At the time of the long darkness and extreme volcanic activity their frequency abruptly doubled. And since that time, there has been a consistent three or four percent increase every week—with an extreme increase that lasted only a couple days during the event of our south polar passage. Even as we headed north, I have been able to confirm this whenever I was able to take measurements.”
Peleg noticed the switch from “we” to “I”, but said nothing.
“This may be something that has absolutely no affect on any of us, but I can’t help wondering if these objects may somehow contribute to the issues of senescence which concern all of us.”
“Well, it can’t be healthy,” said Peleg, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was going.
“The only conclusion I have reached is that this may be peripherally related to volcanic activity, and, to a much lesser degree, altitude.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I suspect that if this trend doesn’t reverse itself, the longevity of all life will be threatened.”
A slight shudder ran through Peleg and he glared at Thaxad.
“You certainly know how to cheer a person up,” he quipped.
Thaxad almost smiled.
“Why don’t you join me on my next outing?” he said. “I’m going to travel to the eastern grasslands which I discovered on my last journey. I’ve made some remarkable mineralogical discoveries, and you might enjoy accompanying me.”
He took Peleg by the arm and led him out of the darkroom into the relative lightness of the hut, and from there, into the glare of the late morning sun.
“I’ll let you know when I am ready.”
A few days later, they headed out to the elevated grasslands due east, taking some simple calculating equipment and a hunting bow. Peleg also brought his compass, and was glad that they were now traversing a latitude where the sun’s path would immediately reveal any deviant behavior that his not-so-trusted compass might exhibit.
After traveling for three days, they reached the area Thaxad had spoken of. The grassy flatlands stretched as far as they could see, while ripples of green and yellow shimmered under the slight winds, and small baobab saplings dotted the landscape. Some of these trees were so young that they appeared to be blossoming for the first time in their lives—an event that occurred only after twenty years of growth.
During the next several days they continued across the flatlands and witnessed small herds of gazelles, zebras, and giraffes darting across the plains. Once they observed a pride of large striped lions traveling in a pack, and occasionally they saw an isolated rhino or short-haired mammoth.
In the eastern distance, a small forest of tall, slender trees silhouetted the horizon. It was late in the evening, and the red, western sunlight caught the crowns of the trees, creating the flickering illusion that they were on fire. As they approached, they saw that the trees stretched up to twenty meters in height; but their only branches sprouted from the treetops, creating a large green crown which, from their distant perspective, resembled large cabbages aloft thin wooden poles.
Below, where there were no branches, it was easy to see between the trees, and at one point Peleg thought he saw a small behemoth grazing among them much like a child might walk through a wheat field. Peleg looked to see if Thaxad had seen, but he was studying a small rock outcropping nearby. When Peleg looked again, the large reptile was nowhere to be seen.
“Thaxad,” he said, “I just saw a small ušemšutum over there in the trees.”
Thaxad tuned to look to follow his gaze.
“What kind?” he asked.
“The long-necked type with the large front legs.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen one of those since I was a child.”
Such sightings were rare, and, although there were numerous stories of the large, shy beasts, very few people had actually seen them. They were generally categorized into two basic kinds—the flying Anzudmušen, or giant reptilian vultures; and the land-dwelling Ušemšutum, or dragon-lizards. Because of the huge sizes they could attain, they were often simply called behemoths. There were also accounts of these large animals dwelling in deep waters known collectively as Ušemkúšu, (reptile whales), and were the source of many amazing (and probably exaggerated) seafaring adventures. During Peleg’s lifetime, the reported dimensions had dropped considerably, and it was often speculated that, as their lifespans decreased, so did their size.
As they approached the cabbage trees, Thaxad decided to set up camp for the night under the overhanging branches. He began making arrangements for the fire, and Peleg began to dress and prepare the small boar they had caught and killed earlier that day.
After eating, Peleg lay back to go to sleep, and realized that the “cabbages” blocked his view of the sky. All previous nights of this excursion he had gone to sleep with a full view of the stars, but tonight he simply hoped that no strange animal would fall on him.
He drifted off wondering if entire species could die off simply from decreased longevity.
“Wake up, Chief Peleg!” Thaxad spoke in a forced whisper while shaking Peleg’s shoulder. He was kneeling next to him, and when he received a grunted response, he continued.
“Can you hear that?” he asked.
“Hear what?” grumbled Peleg as he rose up on his elbows.
“Get up and follow me,” ordered Thaxad who briskly turned away and silently began to collect their belongings.
Peleg wrenched himself from his blanket, and placed his cross-staff and other instruments in his chest-pack.
; It was a moonless night, but patches of starlight made puddles of light between the treetops. Peleg rushed to follow Thaxad—who was already several paces ahead of him.
They continued through the low grasses in a wide serpentine course between the trees for several minutes, until Thaxad stopped short and waited for Peleg to come alongside him.
“Now do you hear it?” he demanded.
Peleg strained his ears but still heard nothing unusual. Other than the rustling of leaves overhead, there were no sounds.
He shook his head.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “My hearing’s not as good as yours.”
“It’s a low, humming sound; more reminiscent of moaning than anything else I can determine.”
Peleg listened again, and when the wind shifted slightly, he heard it. It was a full, deep sound, scattered and splintered by the breezes, but he could discern a definite rise and fall.
“What is it?” he asked.
Thaxad remained silent for a few moments, analyzing the waves carried by the shifting winds.
Finally he made his pronouncement.
“I believe it is singing,” he said.
Peleg looked at him quizzically, but said nothing.
They continued together as the low-pitched droning began to coalesce into the human voices that Thaxad had predicted. Peleg soon detected additional higher-pitched voices as they drew near, which combined to form five-part harmony. There was no discernible rhythmic structure, but he noticed that the bottom two voices maintained an interval of a perfect fifth, regardless of the upper-voice activity.
As they began to close in on the vocalists, Thaxad grabbed his arm and pointed. Peleg peered into the darkness ahead, but could see nothing.
