by Gabe Sluis
It was morning, in the end of the dry cycle. After the much shorter wet cycle swept over the continent, the yellow grass would become green again and stand up to stretch for the sun. But for now, it was withered and drooping with the lack of water, perfect for the boys to walk off the path and sleep when night came. They had left late from the Tarkin main city Kayros, a mountain forest surrounding a lake in the middle of the continent. They chose the non-expidant route home; one full day of walking to make it to Tapa Urkan. From there they would be able to get on a Dohit transport that would take them to the coast and the homes they longed for.
***
“You think you may stay for a night before you take off to your family?” Aros asked Akoda. They were sitting on an open-air cargo flat, riding an over-land transport they had snuck on. The cargo portion of the free rolling train was sparsely loaded, allowing the shocks to give them a smooth ride on such third class accommodations. It was the Tarkin way, they hid in the tall grass when the transport left the city and stealthily climbed on as the train slowed to take the final corner before it reached its full speed. They sat, back to back between two large containers that were secured to the bed.
“I might as well,” Akoda answered. “I am sure I could use a break and continue on the next day, using the canopy route.”
“You tell anyone you were coming back?” Aros said.
“Just my Father. But I’m sure the whole village knows by now. You?”
“No, I figured I would surprise them.”
They rode the rest of the way in relative silence, taking in the view on either side of the quick moving train. From Aros’s view of the north, he could see far across the slowly descending planes. Huge white boulders stood sporadically across the sea of grass, like islands in the seas to the south. Far to the north and east, the base of the great mountain could be seen rising into the clouds. The top of the mountain became lost in clouds, indistinguishable from the rest of the sky. Aros had never been to the Tavair mountains, but had heard of the many villages, Nar, Dohit and Tarkin, that encompassed the area.
Akoda, facing south, had a much less interesting view. He too had the white rock islands standing in the grassland, as well as some greenery. A belt of trees paralleled their path west, slowly pealing off as the train curved slightly to the north. A river, off-flow from the lake, ran its winding path to the ocean. The two had debated following the rocky river to the coast and trekking north into the great pocket of coastal forest which hid their villages. But in the end, a much quicker route, enjoying a lift to a small Dohit city, was chosen instead.
A couple hours past and the smell of fresh ocean air crept upon the two passengers. Akoda slowly pressed his body out looking in the direction of their movement. He pulled back just as slowly. He taped Aros on the shoulder three times. Aros moved his pack to his right hand and prepared himself. As the transport slowed, the two slid off the cargo deck, tucked, rolled and disappeared into the grass. The act was probably unnecessary, as it was no secret that Tarkin used the transports for rides. This fact would not stop any of them, for the Tarkin, being sneaky was as natural as breathing.
Getting up after the transport left the area, Aros looked west. Marking the end of the plane region rose up a great coastal forest. The trees were, at maturity, three hundred feet tall and so wide around it would take 16 Tarkin men touching hands to wrap around a trunk. The bark was smooth and tan. Branches left the trunk at ninety-degree angles, with the root of the branch arching deeply on the underside. The ends of the branched spread out like the frayed end of a rope. The leaves were fist sized and oval, giving the illusion of dark green clumps of clouds surrounding the towering wooden soldiers. In the rainy season, light blue flowers would adorn the trees, later producing small, red, pitiless fruits. The forest was thick, trees standing close enough for some of the branches to overlap, but not so close that the strong ropes of the root systems could ever be confused with that of another tree. This incredible woodland was just one of over thirty that existed all over the main inhabited continent of Yazos.
The two young men moved quickly across the end of the plains, to disappear into the deep forest that they knew so well. Once into the tree line, the two would use hidden climbing routes that would lead up into the lower third of the trees. Pathways between the branches acted as a road that the inhabitants used to cross the area in between villages. They swiftly made their way.
***
Maran walked out of the community tree as dusk was settling. She had just finished eating with three other women in the village, as they usually did after the youngsters had been fed. She enjoyed being around the children, they made her feel young. Maran took her turn teaching, both the boys and girls, how to plant food in the troughs of the higher up branches and how to gather the sweet fruits which grew on the edges of the trees. She was a village mother and more. She was the leader of the small village. All twelve families took turns leading, and for the past six years, it had been her turn. She enjoyed the job as it gave her something to do since her own son had been gone the past five. In fact, she thought, coming out onto the branch and breathing the fresh air, it had been exactly five years since Aros has been gone. He said he would be returning one of these days…
She walked down the main branch leading away from the community tree and took a ramp up to a branch from another. The winding path leading to the tree she lived in was not long. As she approached, she looked at the tree she called home. Above the entrance to her room she looked on the face carved onto the spot where a branch had been removed. Her father had decoratively carved the face of her grandfather onto the family tree as a memorial. Around the village, many faces of the departed decorated trees, but this one was special. Her father had carved it himself rather than commissioning an artist. It was not as flawless as some she had seen, but it had captured the love he must have had for the man. Maran suddenly became aware of a presence behind her, so she turned. Behind her stood two figures, but it took her no time to recognize her own son.
“It’s about time you came back,” she said, embracing her Aros. “I was just going home. Have you eaten? Who is your friend?”
“This is Akoda. We did all our time together. He lives across the forest in Lantun. He is going to rest a day before he heads home.”
“That’s fine, that’s fine. Are you boys hungry? I bet it was a long journey from the lake. Some of us just finished eating, I could make you something.”
“We brought some food with us,” Akoda answered. “I am just ready to get some sleep.”
“Straight ahead. The third level has a spare bed. I’m going to catch up. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Akoda knocked Aros on the shoulder as he went past and smoothly traversed the landings of Aros’s family tree. He disappeared into the black doorway of the third level room hollowed into the heart of the huge trunk. Aros turned back to his mother.
“How have you been? I am so happy to be back!” The pair began to walk.
“Yes. I just don’t know what to do with you being back. You’re so much bigger, so tall and strong! You look just like your grandfather. How is he?”
“I would see him at least once a week. We would eat together. He is always so busy,” Aros said. “How are you? What have you been doing to keep yourself busy?” Aros let his mother go first up a ladder leading to the first level where she stayed. She talked as she made the short climb.
“Oh, all sorts of things! I take the children and teach them to farm, and what plants are okay to eat. Tell them stories and we go on day trips. I’m still taking care of everything around here. Organizing when seasonal work has to be done. When I get lonely or sick of everyone, I go high up to the tops and play my whistle, like when you were a child. I have even made up a lot of new tunes.”
“That is great you started playing again. So great. So how is everyone else? How is Tharn?”
“Tharn has not changed a shade. He has asked when you would be back. He wants to see you
, I’m sure.”
“I will have to see him first thing.” Aros hugged his mother again. “I need some sleep too. I will see you in the morning.”
“Sleep well.”
Aros was halfway up the latter to his own room when he stopped.
“Is Kya still around? Has she gone off?”
“No, she is still here.”
“Good night, mother.”
Maran smiled. Aros departed and she turned to go in her own room. She was glad he asked about Kya. A mothers meddlesome thoughts marched around her mind as she got ready and went to bed, totally content with the way her night ended.
***
In the early morning, Aros got up and went outside. Akoda was waiting, sitting on a branch near his level. It was early enough that they were probably the first ones up in the village. Aros stretched.
“You are not going to want to start doing exercises, are you?” Akoda said. “I am done with all that guardian stuff. I don’t even know why I am up this early. I just want to be idle for an occasion. I am tired of always being on the go.”
“Life is movement. The point is to do things and go places.”
Akoda guffed. “So what is the plan today? I think I will leave tonight to head home. You said you had some good rivers around here? I wouldn’t mind a swim and a nap on a warm rock.”
“We can do that. I want to see a couple people first. Come with me and meet Tharn. He is the forsaken I was telling you about. Taught me almost everything I know. You would like him.”
“Should we should get some food? Wait for everyone to wake up?”
“Oh no, he will be awake. He doesn’t sleep much.”
The two moved across the village, taking secondary and tertiary routes above most of the main platforms and walkways. When Aros reached the two level tree that Tharn called his home and workshop, he lowered himself into a dangling position from the branch he was on. He did this in a slow and deliberate manner, which required a lot of muscle control. When he was still and a few seconds had passed, he dropped the few last feet to the platform outside Tharn’s workshop. He touched down to a crouch without a sound, scanning the inside of the lit room.
“Glad to hear you are back,” A voice said from inside. Aros smiled and began to stand when Akoda followed suite with the same maneuver. Directly after the slight sound of Akoda’s arrival, Tharn appeared in the doorway with a hon-ra in hand. The weapon was connected to a body in an attack stance.
Tharn immediately softened when he saw his visitors.
“I had it in my mind it was you, but when I heard a second… Thought someone had come to get me.” Tharn flicked his wrist and sent the hon-ra into his inside wall and walked forward to embrace Aros.
“Glad to have you back, kid. I see you survived. Who is this?”
“Akoda. We were paired together ever since training. Fundamentals, sentry duty, a few operations, long range stuff, always paired together. He is from Lantun.”
“Good to hear Aros had someone from his own forest to watch out for him,” Tharn said to Akoda. “Come in, boys.”
The three walked in to Tharn’s workshop. Akoda kept his head on a swivel, I treated in all the things filling up the room. They sat down at a crowded workbench as Tharn grabbed three cups and filled them with a red juice. Tharn followed Akoda’s searching gaze.
“I know, I have a lot of things in here. Always working on a project. If something breaks, it is brought to me. I am always making trips to the Dohit trading posts to get parts or tools. You name it, I will try to build it. I have gotten fast enough to make a hon-ra in just one day.”
“This is a nice one,” Akoda said, getting up and taking the one recently placed in the wall. “It's lighter and a bit more slim than the ones we were issued.”
“True. But it doesn’t affect the strength or blade. You can keep that one. I have plenty.”
“Thank you. I wish we had a forsaken living in my village growing up. Aros is always showing me things he learned from you.”
“It is what you have to do when you are forsaken. I don’t regret being in the wrong line when God was handing out the gift. I was taught from a young age that I must use my strengths rather than wallow in shortcomings I have no control over. My greatest pride is being helpful to my fellow Tarkin for one hundred and fifty two years. I have never let the fact that I can’t produce the ghost fire slow me down.”
“But enough about an old man tinkering away in his tree. Tell me about your time in Kayros! Lets see those stars!”
Aros and Akoda both brought up their left forearm and showed the forsaken their marks. A blue star for Aros and a red star for Akoda. They were the marks of their clan. All young Tarkin who prove themselves worthy of the small stars etched in their skin were never again looked upon as children.
“Kayros was great,” Aros began. “We trained and learned. It was a bit lonely, but we kept each other company and we were always busy. We got to travel all around. The city is amazing. More Tarkin in one place than I have ever seen. And so large. In our last year, we got to go on a lot of small missions, scouting, and other things. It was great.”
“But now we are done,” Akoda said. “No more waking up early or having to travel long distances to hand deliver messages or stand sentry in front of some council members tree. I can go wherever I want and do as I please.”
“They didn’t try to talk you into becoming Verdur?” Tharn asked Akoda.
“It was offered, but I outright turned them down. I liked being a warrior, but I want to start a family and not be sent off on dangerous tasks with no warning. Aros didn’t say no. He said he needed a break and he would decide.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” Aros said. “My grandfather wants me to become a Verdur. He tells me about his time and how important it is for strong Tarkin to serve their people. I am not against that logic, but I just have this feeling that I should be doing something more. I needed some time to think, that’s all.”
“Five years was not enough?” Tharn joked.
“I guess not,” Aros grinned.
“Well, it is dangerous.” Tharn suddenly became serious. “You remember Ekam?”
“Sure. Kya’s brother. He gave me a hard time growing up.”
“Well, he was sent off on a Verdur mission. I probably shouldn’t know this, but he should have been heard from by now. His whole family is worried.”
“Sometimes missions run a bit longer than you expect,” Akoda said.
“No. This was an important one. It was supposed to be done very quickly. The only reason he would not have sent word to his sister would be because something went very wrong.”
“How do you know all this about a Verdur mission? Those arn’t things just anyone can know,” Akoda pointed out.
“Tharn has his sneaky little ears in most things,” Aros shook his head.
“I was not trying to search out this information!” Tharn said. “Ekam didn’t close off all other lines to the village when he took the pre-alert for assignment.”
Aros laughed. “So what was he sent to do?”
“I cannot be totally sure from the little that was said, but I put it together from other rumors I have heard. A half team of Verdur was sent to take a young boy to the highest peak of Tavair in order to avoid another war.”
“What are you talking about? A war?” Akoda said.
“Have you heard of the legend of the dark star?”
Both shook their heads.
“It starts back at the beginning. In the beginning, God created this world, and all in it. He gave life to the strong Nar, the intelligent Dohit, and the clever Tarkin. Soon, the Nar began to be envious of the Dohits intelligence and the Dohit, in return, became jealous of the Nar’s strength. And so the two races fought.
“When the Tarkin saw the feud, they climbed the trees to stay out of the fighting. The Tarkin, not being strong like the Nar or intelligent like the Dohit, hid as to not be hurt. Because of this, God looked favor
ably upon the Tarkin. He gave us our gift, completely unique from the other two, so that we would not be stuck in the trees forever.
“The creation story ends, ‘Now with the three races balanced, Yazos thrived.’ We all know this story. We are told it from children. But it goes on. When God spread the gift out to the Tarkin, it was not perfect. Some did not receive the gift, and we are called the forsaken. This unbalance created the appearance of the dark star Tarkin.
“Every one hundred fifty years or so, a child is born. When he reaches the age of twelve, when a Tarkin powers emerge, his ghost fire comes out black. The child is amazingly powerful, in more than just our gift. The child is overflowing with strength and rage as well. It is the power that counterbalances all the forsaken that have lived since the appearance of the last dark star.
“The child is dangerous. The first child, his parents tried to raise him normally. But at the littlest anger, the child would explode with rage and nearly unstoppable strength. Seeing that the child could not stay on this world, ancient Tarkin built the gate. High up on the mountain Taviar, a stone doorway to the universe was built. The legend is that whenever the child appears, it must be taken to the top of the mountain and sent off through the Chaos Gate, where the child can do good rather than only cause sorrow here on Yazos.”
“You mean, rather than deal with our own problems, we shove him out to some where else? Where does the gate lead?” Akoda asked
“Chaos. No Tarkin, other than the dark stars of the past have ever used the stone gateway to leave this world. It sends the child to some random place in all the worlds. The legend says that he will be a force of good there rather than a negative force here.”
“I don’t understand. Why he is so bad here? We can’t control him at all?”
“I am afraid not,” Tharn answered Akoda again. “In the past thousand years since creation, no dark star has ever been controlled. Last time, when I was still unable to climb, there was a small war over a dark star child. A kingdom of Dohit was convinced that they could steal the child and use her as a weapon against their enemies. It was a chaotic time. I was told a bright star fell from the sky and many Tarkin died in the struggle.”
