The Rise of OLMAC

by Kevin Gordon

the void, and time, journeying to worlds never seen before. I don’t know where she got it from—her mother and father were ordinary farmers, who never thought much beyond the bounds of their pastures much less beyond the confines of this world. But she dreamed. I only hope she can see those things now.”

  They sat for a while, comforted in the warmth of the sun.

  “You know, I always see you working, Aidlev, but never relaxing with us. Why do you keep so alone?”

  “To think on things. To sort my life out, what I have done, and where I am going.”

  “Sounds like a form of work.”

  Graid shrugged. “I suppose it is.”

  “We all need relaxation,” she said, rubbing his arm. “We all need to forget our troubles, our concerns, and let loose, and live in the moment.”

  “I think I’ve done that too much in my life.”

  “Was it to excess?”

  “Yes,” he replied, feeling a little ashamed and exposed.

  “Well now you are doing this to excess,” she pronounced, like a mother chastising her child. “You look lonely, and you spend too much time alone. It will hurt you in the same way too much relaxation will hurt you.”

  “I don’t know.”

  She grabbed his hand. “I do! Come into town tonight, we are having a wake, in memory of Nijil. There will be food, music, and dancing.” She looked softly in his eyes. “And me.”

  She rubbed his hand, and he held hers as well.

  “I’d like that.”

  She rose, and started to walk away.

  “You might need some better clothes, you know. Or at least, some clean ones.”

  Lachelie was one of the most natural women Graid had ever met. She seemed to be self-contained, dependant on no fancy dress, painted face, or affectation of speech or manner. She was direct, confident, yet happy and carefree, a combination Graid rarely saw. She reminded him a little of Selva, but whereas Selva seemed to feed off of being with a man, Lachelie needed no man to feel complete. But Graid felt more complete being with her.

  She met him the moment he arrived, scouting the area, debating whether or not to stay. She had to have known he would be like this, for she grabbed his arm, and didn’t let him go until he had a plate of food in his hand and was surrounded by six or seven of her friends. Dusk had fallen over Vujora, the sun just sinking into the horizon, the clouds at once lit by the fading sun, and glowing in the darkening sky. A cool breeze whipped along, lifting a woman’s hair around her face, chasing leaves in circles around the few children playing simple games that kindled sweet memories in the minds of the people watching. The plate of food was hot and loaded with spices, and Graid ate it with relish. They found a secluded place just removed from all the festivities, where a fallen tree provided a place to sit, just behind several large bushes. Her friends spoke of the passing of Nijil, small adventures they went on around the village with her. It turned, as all conversations eventually do, to gossip about the locals. They whispered about the late-night lights still on in one house, the growing, persistent boy in another’s. It was one of the few times in his life that Graid was surrounded by those close to his age. But most of the talk centered on the Trint-Averil.

  “I heard they are making their way into this section of the province,” said one of the boys.

  “You would like that,” retorted a thin girl with far too little on leaning against him. “You hear the word sex, and suddenly you know everything.”

  The group laughed, as he pushed her away playfully.

  “It’s not sex,” said Lachelie. “It’s all about the union of our souls, and the rebuilding of our people.”

  One of her friends, a tall, thin man bare-chested with sandals on, put his arm around her.

  “Why don’t we go rebuild our people. I could use a little union.”

  The others laughed, as she shrugged him off.

  “What do you think, Aidlev?” she asked, holding his hand.

  “Of what? His chances with you?”

  “No,” she said laughing, “of the Trint-Averil?”

  Graid buried his lingering jealousy of Arciss for a moment.

  “I think . . . I think it is a noble beginning, but I am unsure of how it will affect our people.”

  “He sounds so serious,” said the thin girl, examining Graid a little closer.

  Lachelie beamed with pride. “Aidlev’s the thinker. If it weren’t for me, he’d be alone meditating along the river.”

  I’m the thinker? How things have changed.

  “She’s right,” said Graid, “but I’m glad to be here now.”

  “Well, that’s what the Trint-Averil is about!” exclaimed Lachelie, a fire burning in her eyes. “It’s about pulling people away from the faith they have used as an old blanket for far too long, when they should have been using companionship and fellowship. Community, instead of scripture and prayer.”

  Graid summed the courage to ask, “what of the Kal-Alçon?”

  “What does he mean?” said the bare-chested man. “He was born to do something, with Novan, not to lead our people. I think ever since the words of Arciss—”

  The words of Arciss!

  “—spread, that focus, at least among our generation, has shifted off him.”

  They were quiet for a moment.

  “It’s sort of a shame, really,” he continued, much to Graid’s chagrin. “I remember my mother telling me of when he was born. There was so much hope, so much joy in this being born who was like the Kal-Durrell, but meant to be among us, to fight the Novans. But where has he been? What has he done? He killed Wejholl, and that was like a shame he put on our village.”

  “True,” they murmured.

  “He presided at the incorporation of Martel,” he said, his voice growing louder, “but does he address the people of this world? No. He runs and hides. Even he knows Arciss is something special.”

  “But why are we standing here, when the dancing has begun!” cried the thin girl, jumping up, tired of serious talk. They all turned, and saw people gathering in the center, spinning around, their clothes shimmering in the moonlight. “Let’s have some fun!” she exclaimed, pulling her friend along. Lachelie turned to Graid with mischief in her eyes.

  “Come on, Aidlev. You’ve come this far.”

  He went with Lachelie, moving his thin limbs and dancing to the throb and pulse of the music. After a while, he even forgot about Arciss and the Trint-Averil as he watched Lachelie move to the music, the joints of her supple, lean body manipulated by the bass rhythm that began to infect even his Kal-Alçon soul. As he watched those around him, smiling and laughing, he suddenly thought of them not as naive simpletons, but rather as fearless rebels, ignoring the threat of Novan, the TELREC and their Cuhli-pra, and laughing in the face of danger and death, daring fate itself to disrupt their joy. Even those too old to dance tapped their feet, watching the young and strong do what they had done in their youth, sharing their resolute faith in the future. Graid felt a connection, a timeless quality to their celebration.

  Lachelie came close and whispered, “are you having a good time, Aidlev?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Call me Chelie. You’re not tired, are you?” she asked doubtfully. She brought his face down with her gentle hands, and kissed him softly on his cheek.

  “Not at all.”

  They danced long into the night, and as the others slowly retreated to their homes, ready to embrace sleep as well as their lovers, Chelie and Graid went back to the cliff to sit for a while. The sun had finally disappeared, and above them hung a faint image of the galaxy, a little hazy as the result of the precarious position their planet was in. The stars were there, but not quite as bright as on Novan’s topside. Still, the air was cool and refreshing, and all the valley seemed to be tightly ensconced in sleep’s gentle arms. Graid saw none of it, felt nothing but the warmth of Chelie’s hand in his, the beauty of her hair running boldly down her face.

  “This is much better
when someone is with me.”

  She put her arm around him. “So where are you from?”

  “Piros.”

  “Did you live there all your life?”

  “No,” he said, feeling a cautious time come upon him. He knew Chelie wanted to know more about him, and he didn’t have the strength to lie anymore.

  She was quiet for a moment, as she watched him think, as various emotions played over his face.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, a little concerned. “I know you’ve probably been through a lot in your life, why else settle here, when you know no one here?”

  “In a way, I know everyone here,” he said wistfully.

  “What do you mean?”

  Graid drew his legs in close, thinking for a while. “I know we have only just met, but I feel something special with you.”

  She kissed him on his cheek. “And I with you.”

  Graid looked her deep in the eyes. “My name is not Aidlev.”

  She laughed nervously. “I hope not! It’s rather cumbersome.”

  He laughed with her, trying to summon the courage to be honest with this woman he was growing so fond of. Something inside pushed him the final step, made his lips and tongue form the words.

  “My name is Graid.”

  “Oh,” she said, still waiting for some dire news or problem. “That’s a nice name. Isn’t that the name of—”

  “The Kal-Alçon.”

  “Yes. A lot of children were named after him—you look like you’d be about his age.” She paused, and saw the expression his face. “What are you saying?”

  “This isn’t my face.”

  He turned away for a moment, shifting his bones and flesh into