Shadows in the Cave

by Meredith

  Aku waited, but his audience didn’t respond to the story. His voice just rattled off the walls of the cave and echoed down the long passages.

  He transformed himself into his human shape, took a deep breath, blew it out through his hollow self, and rolled up and went to sleep.

  25

  “This is the easy way?” Aku tried to make the words sound light, but everyone heard the undertone. At the moment Aku was in human form, helping his father carry his sister.

  “Bitch, bitch, bitch,” said Koz.

  “We have been walking for days,” said Shonan.

  “There are no days or nights in the Underworld,” said their alligator guide. “No time. Well, time as you know it. All times forever are here, past to future. If you get back, it’ll be the same day you left, ain’t that handy?”

  “You are our torturer,” said Aku. Quick as a snake Koz turned his head as far to the side as he could, straight toward Aku. “And guide and executioner,” the alligator said with a smile.

  This “easy way” out of the caverns of the Darkening Land seemed four times the length of the long walk they took to find Salya. They ran out of lamps, which slowed them down painfully, Koz and Aku directing every step of the three blind men. They ran out of all food but Tsi-Li’s chestnuts, which they got sick of eating. At one point they traveled two and a half days without water.

  “I may as well toss you a bone,” said Koz. “Before we sleep, you’ll be in the big owl’s house.”

  “All but one of us,” said Aku.

  “Exactly,” said Koz.

  Mouldywarp said, “Aren’t you the ones? To make it back when the others didn’t.” His pink nose twitched.

  “Don’t do that thing with your nose, okay, Mouldywarp?” said Koz. “Just make a path for us, would you?”

  Mouldywarp had a kind of magic. He was only the size of Aku’s hand, but when he nosed through a dusty, root-crossed passage his own size, human beings and alligators could follow him. So could men bearing a litter.

  Tsi-Li, Great Dusky Owl, materialized as from nowhere and looked the adventurers over. “Thank you, Mouldywarp.” The mole disappeared. “Well, behold. I see you pilgrims have damn near killed yourselves. Mean to save me the trouble?”

  Aku was feeling drained and mopey. He didn’t need his great-grandfather’s grim idea of humor.

  Suddenly Tsi-Li’s owl visage was huge, looming. Aku didn’t expect any leniency from him. Probably in Tsi-Li’s mind justice worked in the world the way a rock fell, impersonal and inevitable. Between the Great Dusky Owl and the Boss of the Underworld, none of them would get out of here alive.

  Inside their heads Aku and Oghi heard Tsola whisper, You don’t need me for a while now. Good-bye. Aku flinched at these ominous words.

  Tsi-Li said in a soft boom, “Let’s see the prize you brought forth.” He regarded Salya’s limp, gangling body for a long moment. “What it inevitably must be.” Though the master of life and death probably intended to sound neutral, Aku heard the sorrow in his voice. Salya was his grandchild, too.

  The great owl put his head closer to her, his attention acute. Aku wondered if he was trying to enter her mind. Surely the immortal owl had that power.

  “Truly dead,” he said.

  Tsi-Li opened a portal that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

  “Come into my home.” Suddenly, magically, they all saw the house, there in the thicket of roots. It looked magnificent.

  “You’ll need to leave the young lady,” said Koz. “If I have her, one of you will come back for her. Our little bargain.”

  “Well and good,” said Shonan.

  “This way,” said Tsi-Li, still holding his door open.

  “You go ahead,” Yah-Su said to the others. “I want to stay with Salya. I don’t trust this alligator.”

  “As you wish,” said Tsi-Li.

  Aku thought, That’s odd. He said, “You should be with your friends.”

  The buffalo man looked sheepish. “It’s wonderful to have friends.”

  “This way,” the owl repeated, nodding Aku, his father, and Oghi into a large room with a smaller one on each side.

  Aku went ahead. He suspected that Yah-Su felt uncomfortable about going into such a fancy place.

  “Have you ever been in a house with three chambers?” said Tsi-Li, knowing perfectly well that none of his guests had. He invited them to look into one of the side rooms. “For sleeping,” he said. It had a perch with plenty of head room for a bird the size of a man, and something bowl-shaped straight below.

  He led them back into the large room and across to the door of the other small chamber. It had a fire in the center, a spit with a roast, and various cooking utensils. “I cook here, on the rare occasions that I cook. We owls like our meat as nature makes it. We have our feathers to keep us warm, and we don’t take to flames.” He shuddered, as though at the thought of fire brushing at his feathers.

  “Thank you, then,” said Shonan, “for making something for us.”

  “Oh, yes, we’ll have food and drink. It is a special occasion. Afterward, we’ll have some questions. Perhaps even some answers.”

  Aku was in a complete muddle. He didn’t know whether to be more afraid that he’d lose his father or afraid they’d all be examined and sent back to the land of the dead.

  Tsi-Li turned back to the main chamber and spread his wings wide. “So do you like my home?” The huge abode was directly beneath the Tree of Life and Death, the big roots themselves acting as beams to support the walls. These walls were not dust that got up everybody’s nose or mud that fell on them. They were plastered into a hard shell and buffed to a shine. It occurred to Aku that having a large home among the roots was physically impossible, but then Immortals didn’t play by the rules of Earth.

  Aku kept sneaking looks at his father. No. Impossible. I can’t lose him.

  The large central room they stood inside seemed to be for Tsi-Li’s pleasure. In the center sat a large flat rock, though Aku couldn’t imagine why. The walls were decorated with feathers of every possible color, tied to suggest avian bodies and wings dangling from the walls.

  “I’m proud of my little collection,” said Tsi-Li. “Not every bird on Earth is represented here, far from it, but I’ve gathered my favorites. The ones with bright plumage appeal to me especially.” Aku wondered if that was because Tsi-Li’s feathers were a gray-brown that could serve as camouflage. “These feathers are from peacocks—you’ll notice I have quite a few. Spectacular, aren’t they? A bounteous bouquet of blues and greens.”

  He pointed with one wing to an entire side of the room in different colors. “These are the feathers of parrots and cockatoos. Those dazzling whites you see, ornamented with gold, yellow, and reds, are the cockatoos. I revel in the purity of that white, rarely matched on Earth.” Now he pointed to the largest panel in the room. “Parrots are among my favorite members of our avian family. Notice how this background of green feathers shows off the other colors, which are deliciously flamboyant. I’d wager you’ve never even seen some of these bright shades. Fuchsia, who would not relish such a bold hue? Rose, doesn’t it seduce the eye? Peach, azure, aquamarine, amethyst, which is one of my favorites, carmine—isn’t that fabulous?—cinnabar, I love that name, coral, magenta, I could go on and on.”

  Aku was afraid his great-grandfather would. Dread was coiling tighter and tighter in his guts. Which of us is going to die?

  “It’s time. Be seated, please.” Tsi-Li gestured at some contraptions none of them had even seen. “Sit!” Tsi-Li said with a smile, and planted himself on one of the contraptions. “They’re called ‘chairs.’” The three human beings tested them out. Their host slapped the big flat rock. “This is called a table.” The guests eyed each other oddly.

  Tsi-Li jumped up and went to the cooking room. “First, we have something special to drink.” He passed out horns of liquid. “This is a drink called champagne. Like your corn juice, it is fermented, but from grapes. In fact, it�
�s fermented twice, so that it bubbles. See if you like it.” He sipped from the horn with his bird beak.

  The guests copied their host and exclaimed, “How wonderful!” “Terrific!”

  Shonan said, “Why haven’t we ever heard of this drink?”

  Aku thought, My father is damned cheerful, considering.

  “Well,” said Tsi-Li, “it’s known as the nectar of the Immortals. We keep the secret of making it to ourselves.”

  The great owl served roasted acorns, then corn mush, then long, green onions sizzled half dark, and last the buffalo roast. Before each course they quaffed a horn of champagne.

  Shonan said, “I’ve never had such a marvelous meal.”

  Oghi chimed in with his own compliment.

  “I’m glad you like it,” said Tsi-Li, an eyebrow arching.

  Aku couldn’t enjoy a thing. His eyes, his thoughts, his feelings—all were on Shonan.

  When they finished the slices of roast, they downed another horn of champagne. Tsi-Li said, “My friends, are you feeling strange at all?”

  “Woozy,” said Shonan. He seemed happy about it.

  “I like it,” said Oghi.

  “Champagne does make your mind tilt a little. One day we will give human beings the secret of making it. Consumed in small quantities, it’s enjoyable. It can even make people sing and dance better. And romance better. I wonder if I’ve given you a little more than is ideal. Tell me, Shonan, are you able to answer questions?”

  “Always,” said the Red Chief.

  Ada, thought Aku, why are you pretending?

  Tsi-Li nodded to Shonan. “I think I’ll start on another tack. Aku, Ohgi,” he said, “you saw what hell is.”

  The two looked at each other.

  “You saw and then showed me,” Aku told Oghi.

  “Both of you saw fully,” said Tsi-Li. “I joined Tsola and traveled along with the two of you.”

  Aku was taken aback. Someone else was in his mind. He felt a low flame of anger.

  We Immortals do as we please, said Tsi-Li in Aku’s head.

  Aku flinched.

  “It’s all right, Grandson,” said Tsi-Li out loud.

  Aku gave him a wan smile.

  “As I say, both of you saw what the punishment of the Darkening Land is.”

  “Yes,” said Aku, “endlessly reliving whatever scared you in life.”

  “Not the bad things that did happen,” said Ohgi.

  “Clever, isn’t it?” said their host. “Even demonic.”

  He turned the yellow globes of his eyes on Shonan. “You saw none of this.”

  “What? The screaming and whining were horrible. Beyond horrible. Disgusting, too.”

  “Yes, but you didn’t actually see what the spirits were afraid of.”

  “I don’t know anything about that.”

  “Ada,” said Aku painfully. Shonan didn’t seem to notice.

  Tsi-Li regarded the Red Chief. “I want you at your best. Let’s take a few minutes of sight-seeing to help you toward sobriety.”

  Aku wondered what the fancy word meant.

  The great owl got up, stood on the table, and said, “Follow me. Just jump.” He flapped upward, a swirl of a hole opened in the solid ceiling, and Tsi-Li disappeared through it.

  The three people gaped at each other. Shonan stood up with a what-the-hell attitude, stepped onto the table, held his arms high, jumped, and disappeared. He dived upward into solid earth.

  Oghi did the same.

  Hesitating, then wobbling, Aku followed along.

  They found themselves high in the branches of the giant cedar, the biggest tree in the world, the Tree of Life and Death.

  “Don’t worry if your stomachs are queasy,” said Tsi-Li. “You’re way up in the air and you’re tipsy. But you can’t fall from here, I promise.

  “So,” said the Great Owl, “look around at the world.” To the west, which lay in half shadow, rolling hills gave way to prairies, which stretched away forever. A liquid sunrise lolled on the bald summits of the mountains to the east, leaving their steep, timbered sides dark in shadow. The sky above them, horizon to horizon, was the innocent color of a robin’s egg.

  “Exquisite, isn’t it, that hue?” said Tsi-Li. He lowered his eyes to the earth that rolled away in all directions. “Exquisite world, in fact. I’ve always been impressed with Thunderbird, that he gave such a beautiful world to the creatures of mortality. But then he’s the master of the world above, and I only of the world below.

  “Never mind all that, though,” the great owl chippered on. “What do you see on the branches of this magnificent cedar tree? Do you see our company?”

  They all looked hard.

  “I don’t see a damn thing,” said Shonan, “except cedar leaves.”

  Tsi-Li waited.

  “Ada, don’t you see?” ventured Aku. “There’s energy on the branches here and there.”

  Tsi-Li’s sun-yellow eyes brightened. He waited.

  Oghi added, “The same energy we saw down below. These branches are full of wraiths.”

  “Spirits,” said Tsi-Li. “Here reside the spirits of the dead, those who have earned their emergence back to the world. They are waiting for venues of birth, women’s bellies to swim into and then out of. They are people waiting for their corporeal forms.”

  Aku was amazed. It seemed to him, now that the sun was above the mountains and the Tree of Life fully lit, that the branches were spinning with energy, human potential.

  “What do they do,” said Aku, “to earn this … rebirth?”

  “You already know.”

  “Learn not to let fear trample them.”

  “Close enough. They’ve learned some of what you say.”

  “How much?”

  Tsi-Li shrugged with his wings. “It’s my call. Let’s just say that I am the master of the knowledge of life and death.” He waited. “Have you seen enough?”

  Aku breathed in and out. “I’d just like to sit here a few minutes and look and … absorb it all.”

  Tsi-Li nodded. They all sat in silence. Finally, Tsi-Li said, “Ready?”

  Aku nodded.

  Tsi-Li said, “This bit is scary, but just jump. Dive, straight down.” He did it himself, wings folded back. In an instant he disappeared among the branches.

  “Okay for a bird,” said Shonan.

  In his human form Aku dived. His body disappeared just before the branches hid him from view.

  Oghi and the Red Chief leaped head down. Abruptly, they sat at the table in Tsi-Li’s central room.

  Amazingly, Salya lay by the fire, wrapped in robes.

  Aku leapt and opened the door. Outside was no Koz, no Yah-Su, nothing but roots and dust.

  “Where is my friend?” said Aku, his voice trembling.

  “He went with Koz,” said Tsi-Li.

  “Why?”

  “He made the choice he thought was right. He is the sacrifice. He chose it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “His life was hard. He looked like a monster. People treated him like a monster. He felt like a monster. Now he wants to come back as a man who can have a family, friends, and a place in a community.”

  “ We were his friends,” wailed Aku.

  “He was very grateful for that. He told me to thank you for being the only friends he ever had, and very fine ones.”

  Aku started to protest again, but he felt overwhelmed. Shonan put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Don’t wail for Yah-Su,” said Tsi-Li. “He is doing well. You see, though he said nothing, he also learned something down below, something very great. He lost his fear of death. He crossed over to seek life.

  “As he has gone down out of wisdom, he will come back in grace. Very soon.”

  Aku held to the spinning world, determined not to fall off.

  “Now,” the Great Owl said, “you have been very good guests, exceptional guests. This is a historic occasion, for I’m about to say words I have never said before. Aku, G
randson, you have gone into the Underworld and returned with knowledge of life and death. You are free to go back to the world.” He repeated the same words for Oghi. “I salute the two of you,” he said. “Who else can say he entered the Underworld and came back alive? You have the reward of great understanding. Use it well.”

  Aku felt a spike of elation.

  Then Tsi-Li regarded Shonan with the yellow globes at eyes for a long time. “Red Chief, you are a more difficult case.”

  Aku cringed. No. Don’t let it be.

  “Tell me, what do you think of what you saw—or rather heard—down below? And what do you think of what you saw, if you saw them, up high in the tree?”

  “I’ll tell you what I told these two,” Shonan said. “All this stuff about how awful fear is, it’s just a lot of blather about what every good warrior already knows. Before a fight, or before you ever get near any fight, you can cripple yourself in your head. You can imagine your arms being hacked off. You can see a spear ramming straight through your gullet and writhe in agony. You can feel your head being yanked back and your throat slit.”

  He clapped his hands on his knees. “I don’t want any men like that at my side. They’re useless. They’re cowards. They get wounded in the mind twenty times for every wound they might get in a lifetime as a warrior. They get killed a thousand times for the one time they’ll actually have to die. And what they do is, they cut their own balls off. They terrify themselves so they can’t fight. And then they do get hurt or killed, because they’ve taken the weapons out of their own hands. Their hands quiver, their legs shake, and they can’t do a thing. Believe me, I’ve fought next to men like that, and doubled the risk to myself to save their tails.”

  He huffed breath in and out. “A real warrior bans such pictures from his mind. He pictures himself killing the enemy, never himself getting killed. He feels the thrill of the charge, the bright gleam of the danger, the pleasure of the use of his skills, the exhilaration of danger. Live? Die? He is beyond caring. Because for those moments he is truly alive, he is all he can be as a man.”