Servants and Followers (The Legends of Arria, Volume 2)

by Courtney Bowen

  “I haven’t got an answer to that.” Goga said after a moment, although now he was concerned that he might have upset Doomba even more. Definitely not the wisest thing for him to do, if he wanted to stay alive.

  Chapter 15: Fire on the Mountain

  Where Mila and Popo are met, forest to hill,

  There rises a mountain some call Old Smoko.

  Where Mila and Popo are met, marriage of nature,

  There is where Tau rose and took his throne.

  --Legends of Arria, Arria

  “‘Twenty-nine, twenty-nine, children Za and Wan had,’” Basha sang softly to himself as Gnat snuggled up close to him inside the cave. “Twenty-nine, twenty-nine children ‘til fifteen of them left. They went up, up, they went up, up, to the sky on the mountain. They went up, up, they went up, up to the sky on the mountain--’”

  “Stop singing that.” Oaka muttered.

  “Sorry.” Basha said.

  “Keep singing, Basha.” Fato said, nestled close to Monika on her lap. “We need some music to keep us awake.” The falcon remarked.

  “Do you just object to everything I say to annoy me?” Oaka asked.

  “Maybe.” Fato confirmed.

  After two and a half days of walking and running from Coe Aela, they reached the foothills of the first mountain range in the Popo Hills. They started climbing on the 18th of Markee, managing to make at least 15 miles a day on the foothills and lower slopes of the mountain on that day and then the next, when there was a path and the incline was gentle enough. But then their progress slowed to a crawl the next day and the day after that on the mountainside, especially when they had to grab onto the face of the mountainside, staggering across to reach the other side, their feet threatening to slip down. Monika was of great help to them in those times, with her previous experience of mountain-climbing. She told them of the best foot- and hand-holds, and how to use the rope to secure themselves. Fato kept up with them, and sometimes went ahead, but the wind gusts kept knocking him back.

  It was hard to move and rest sometimes in this close to dangling position, but they managed to hang on barely, stopping to rest on any wide ledge they could find before continuing. On the 22nd day, they reached the other side of the mountain, but they had to stop here as the weather got bad. They managed to find a cave, barely more than a rift, on the side of the mountain, as sleet came down and the temperature dropped close to freezing. They had no wood for a fire, no proper kindling to keep them warm in the night.

  “Don’t stop singing, Basha.” Gnat said as well, shivering as she looked up at him. “Or at least say something.”

  “Like what?” Basha asked, wondering if she looked pale and blue. They probably all looked pale and blue, even Fato beneath his feathers.

  Gnat shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you know any stories?” She asked him.

  “Of course I do,” Basha said, and hesitated. “Usually only the Old Man…he is a storyteller, or katlin, in our hometown, besides being our protector, he is the one who usually only tells the stories, but I wll try.” Basha said, clearing his throat before he began.

  Myth of Tau’s Cup

  Mila and Popo recovered from the shock of Tau’s birth slowly, as Tau was put in charge of the ground not covered by Mila’s forest, Popo’s mountains, or Menthar’s desert. Tau performed well in his task, maintaining the grass, fields, prairies and valleys that fell under his domain, watched over by all of his parents, even by Menthar trapped in the desert, until they felt comfortable with having another god like him around. They left him alone, and he wondered if he had upset them somehow, that he had been forced into this task and moved away from their territories. Tau looked up into the sky, and wondered why no one had claimed it yet.

  He went up into the sky, possessing the strength and height of Popo, the fire and ferocity of Menthar, the ineffability and inevitability of Loqwa, and the growth and magic of Mila. Whereas all of the other gods had failed to rise above the ground they had fallen upon, after being dropped from the sky in the egg released from Day’s and Night’s union, Tau rose above for he possessed all of the qualities of the other four gods within himself. Tau reached the sky, and the sun, moon, stars and clouds were his. He claimed them for himself and for the other gods.

  He opened a bridge between the sky and earth, the rainbow, and the gods were able to reach the sky again. For this reason, Tau’s domain became the sky, and of the Cloud Rulers the gods became, he was the greatest, known as king of the Cloud Rulers. Mila and Popo had recovered sufficiently enough, and loved each other enough, that they bore a daughter together named Quela, yet Mila’s strength had diminished in death. She allowed Quela to take on some of her responsibilities, namely in the realm of caring for female animals and their offspring as well as nourishing and replenishing the waters of the earth. Tau and Quela eventually wedded each other as the only other gods in their generation, and Quela became queen of the gods.

  Quela eventually bore a daughter named Gorbana, who often wandered in Mila’s forest and joined the predatory animals in their hunt for sustenance, leading to her designation as goddess of the hunt and of animals in general, taking away another of Mila’s responsibilites. Gorbana often associated with Loqwa as Gorbana’s hunt led to the prey’s demise. For a long while, they were the only gods upon the earth, when there was no need for any other gods to do anything as they had very little to do themselves. Nature took its own course, the mechanics of it ran like clockwork or at least were regular enough, and they only had to guide it along in a general thrust.

  The gods and animals were the only living beings in existence, and the gods only had to depend upon each other for company, minus Menthar who was in exile from their company, and oftentimes Loqwa, who was busy with his duties even at the start of the earth. Finally, Tau could not stand the boredom.

  “This is our world to mold and shape,” Tau said, turning to the other gods, “Yet it is too quiet, too peaceful, too serene.” He paced back and forth. “We need something to stir up this world and reshape it like us, but in a different way. Something not as perfect as us, but something not as crude as animals.” He frowned to himself. “Something simpler than gods, but more complex than animals. Something that needs our attention and devotion when we can determine their lives.” He thrust his hand up into the air. “Something that can attend to, or devote to us as well. Something that can drive us and make us greater than we are!” He cried. “Something that can amuse us or divert us--”

  “What is it?” Quela asked, impatiently, “What are you talking about?”

  “Another being,” Tau said, taking the Cup from his table, and diving down to earth with it. Tau’s Cup, was the most precious thing seen on Earth yet, a beautiful gold goblet encrusted with black jewels and diamonds along its rim, touched by the Cloud Ruler Tau himself with his mark still upon it. Tau landed in the desert, and looked upon Menthar.

  “So you are Tau.” Menthar said, staring upon his son.

  “And you are one of my fathers.” Tau grimaced.

  “Why are you here?” Menthar asked.

  “I want to create a new being that is not a god and not an animal.”

  “A little bit of both perhaps?” Menthar asked.

  “Perhaps. Menthar, you created the first animals when you boiled the water hot enough to stir life. And you were closest to Loqwa when he dug into the ocean floor. You must have glimpsed some of what was revealed or released during this digging. You know more than some of your fellow gods.”

  “Why do you say that?” Menthar asked.

  “Menthar, I want to know how to create such a being as I described, and you are my best bet. You know what it takes to give life. You even know what it takes to take it away.”

  Menthar grimaced. “I hate being reminded of this, of being punished for what happened to Mila. What can I say or do to end my punishment forever? What can I do to apologize?”

  “Apologize? You cannot!” Tau paused a moment. “I will speak with Mila and
Popo.” Tau said. “Perhaps enough time has passed that you can be forgiven. Perhaps not. I will do my best if you help me.”

  “Take the sand from the desert.” Menthar said. “It has been cooked by the sun, and by my hatred, anger, and envy as I paced across it. You need such coarse sand for what you are about to create. It must have drive and passion, anger and envy, and the evil that comes from it, for that is life.” Menthar said.

  Tau scooped up the sand with his Cup, for that was all he had, and drained the desert. He asked Menthar, “What next?”

  “Ask your wife and mother.” Menthar said. “Tell your mother what you have bargained for.” Menthar said. Tau grimaced and sighed, leaving Menthar.

  Tau went back to the Cloud Rulers, and asked Quela what she would put in the Cup. “Water,” Quela said, nodding. “Water is necessary to sustain life. Life cannot exist without water.” Quela retrieved some water for him as she said, “Water is everything and nothing, much like life. Water is filling. Just a sip and you are satisfied. Yet it leaves you empty and you want more.” She said, turning to Tau with her bowl of water, “Water is endless. It covers the Earth, yet it is precious as well. Water is where life came from. Land rose from the water, animals were borne from it, and our parents were dropped from the sky into water. Water may lead to our demise as well, when we fight over water and drown in it, ingesting too much.” She told him, as he took her bowl, “Water is pure and simple, complex and destructive. Water is love, intelligence, and so much more.”

  “Thank you, Quela. Water balances out the sand,” Tau remarked, pouring the water from the bowl into the Cup until the bowl was empty. “But it’s still not enough.” He said when there wasn’t a reaction to create a being. “Something must tip the scale towards life.”

  “Where did you go when you were on the earth?” Quela asked him. “Where did you get that sand?”

  “That reminds me,” Tau said, turning to his mother Mila. “I bargained with Menthar to help me.”

  “What?” Mila cried, aghast at her son’s audacity as Popo frowned.

  “Mother, I have to know how to create this being,” Tau said, leaning towards her. “I have to know for it is my destiny. Menthar has the knowledge. He told me to ask you and father Popo for forgiveness, for an end to his punishment. He wants to apologize.”

  “Apologize?” Mila gasped. “He cannot, never!” She cried, shaking her head. “No, I will not accept it, whatever he has to say.”

  “Do not upset your mother!” Popo told Tau.

  “I might accept for you both. Now tell me what to put in this Cup.” Tau said, pointing at it as he waited.

  Mila frowned. “Pour your blood into the Cup and breathe.” She said. “Your blood is divine, it has the mix of all your parents in it. Though the sand and water will dilute the power, immortality, and divinity of your blood, it will grant whatever being you create the ability to rise above animals, and to stretch towards the sky. A nobility, a creative force, an identity, an inner drive and purpose, maybe magic, all of this combined is in your blood, and will be granted to this mortal being. Your breath is the final ingredient to grant this being life. I hope you choke.” Mila told Tau, turning away from him. “May you regret this action forever!” She called back to him, leaving the assembly as Popo followed after her towards earth.

  “Thank you, mother,” Tau whispered before he grabbed the Cup, cut himself, and poured his blood into the Cup, mixing it with the sand and water inside before he breathed into the Cup. He poured the mixture onto the ground, and created the first human beings, the man Za and the woman Wan, who landed not in the forest, the hills, or even in the fields, but in the desert Menthar had been exiled to. Tau had placed them there until such time as he, Mila, and Popo could talk about ending Menthar’s punishment without getting upset, and the humans would only be a reminder of Tau’s betrayal in Mila’s eyes.

  “Enough of this,” Oaka muttered, shaking his head and standing up, interrupting Basha’s story. “I can’t stand it, I can’t stand it,” He said, stirring and disturbing the others in danger of dropping off into a blissful, deadly languor.

  “What’s wrong, Oaka?” Monika asked, opening her eyes.

  “I won’t die like this.” Oaka said, reaching around to grab his pack and slip his hand inside. “Not now, not ever.” Oaka said, taking out his letter from Sisila and bending down towards the ground, falling into silence for a moment as he concentrated on the letter and its contents.

  “What are you doing?” Basha asked, though he thought he knew.

  “Come on, girl, release me.” Oaka whispered, holding out the letter in his hands. “Help me please.” Suddenly the fire in his fingertips ignited the letter in his hands, and it flared, giving off light, warmth, and energy that the group so desperately needed. The rest of the group huddled close together around Oaka to warm and dry themselves by the perpetual fire that he had created and sustained throughout the night, as Oaka concentrated on the flames long after the letter had burnt up, smoldering into ashes. The light emanated from the cave halfway up the mountain, a faint beacon out into the darkness and the sleet to anyone who looked up towards it.

  In the morning, the sleet had dissipated with sunlight warming the mountainside, and the group emerged from the cave to begin their descent. Oaka said nothing about what he had done, though the others thanked him gratefully and quietly in their own ways, understanding what he had sacrificed. To him, though, it was just a piece of paper, as the words he had memorized a long time ago, when the words were the only ones he had left from Sisila, and he had read the letter more times than he could count. The letter’s words would remain with him long after the paper was gone.

  The descent on the moutainside would take two days, but the fortress of Coe Wina would be visible to them throughout this time, as though it was miles away still on the other side of the valley they would have to cross to reach it, Coe Wina rose above the valley floor upon its motte, a combination of natural hill and man-made bulwarks making up the base of its plateau. Though it bristled with turrets, walls, a gatehouse, and barricades upon its slope, Coe Wina impressed the group with its sense of safety as they knew they would not have to fear Coe Aela and Goga anymore, once they were safe behind those walls. This sense of safety lifted their spirits, sped their steps, and made them laugh again coming down the mountainside, counting upon the proximity of the fortress to save their souls.

  Basha even joked, “Oaka, if we ever go on another trip like this again, you better remember to bring along our family fiddle for your wise fool antics.”

  “That’s some nice talk, brother,” Oaka scoffed, “If we ever go on another trip like this again!” He gasped. “When we’re done with this trip, I’m never going to set foot on another road again! For as long as I live!” He cried. Gnat giggled.

  “Say, what are these wise fool antics?” Monika asked.

  “Well, it’s based on those old bard songs about the Wise Fool, I’m sure you must have heard a few of them before.” Oaka said, before he sang, “‘The wise fool, best among men,/He walked along the road and sang,--”

  “Til-dee-um-bum!” Basha echoed.

  “That’s the one, Basha!” Oaka grinned. “The Wise Fool, I always wanted to be just like him growing up. Taking advantage of those people stronger, faster, richer and smarter than him, those people who had the advantage all of their lives, until they were tricked by the one fool they had underestimated, the wise fool. He was the greatest man for that.” Oaka sighed. “I always hated it whenever he got duped, for the sake of ‘doing good for goodness’s sake’, but he always had the upper hand in any case. He was my hero, the wise fool, not the Knights of Arria.” Oaka muttered.

  “So what are the wise fool antics again?” Monika repeated, annoyed.

  “Oh, all I do is juggle and joke about life, nothing much, actually,” Oaka said, “But we had a lot of fun doing it. Basha mostly played the fiddle, unless he really wanted to show off his juggling skills to Jawen.” Oaka grin
ned with Basha grimacing as they remembered the fight on the night of the Courtship ritual.

  “Oh, now that is really nothing much for a monkey like you!” Fato exclaimed. “All you have to do is keep the balls up in the air and mention balnor once or twice!” Oaka nearly chased Fato down the mountainside after that remark, but Basha and Monika just let them go, with Gnat laughing after them.

  “Look, Basha,” Monika said, pointing down at the valley floor near the mountainside. “A grove of trees. By tomorrow evening, we’ll be down there.”

  Basha nodded. “Good place to camp, I suppose, at least it’s some shelter.” He remarked.

  “Or we could cross the valley during the night,” She suggested, “And reach the castle by dawn.” She seemed to lean towards that idea a little.

  Basha hesitated. “While that does sound like the best way to go, I suppose we’ll be too tired to make the trip during the night. Plus, we do not know the terrain well, and this valley does not appear to be completely flat.”

  She nodded. “Dips and rises, I see what you mean. We might trip or fall in the dark. I suppose you are right, that the best thing we can do tomorrow night is to stop and rest.” She said, continuing on.

  However, that evening as they stopped to rest on the mountainside, about a quarter of a way up its height, Gnat scanned the horizon, marveling at how high up they were, how far they could see, when she noticed something towards the northeast, towards the edge of the mountainside in that direction. “Is that smoke?” She asked.

  By the dimming light of sunset, the others turned their heads towards where she pointed, and spotted a cloud, a wisp of smoke that seemed to hint of something in that direction. “It seems to be, although we are so high up,” Oaka started to say, “It could be just--”

  “Fato, I think you should go check it out.” Monika said.

  “Right you are,” The falcon said, and departed before anyone else could speak. They sat there for a few minutes in silence until sunlight faded and darkness took over, watching the smoke that continued to rise in small puffs from far away and beneath them. The cloud remained constant in its reformation, never vanishing away completely when new strands would appear just as the old ones started to fade. They could even smell soot on the breeze.