Who am I?
Wing was aware of the question, but the voice seemed to have little to do with who he was.
“Who do you want to be?” came an answer that could have been his own voice or someone else’s. He couldn’t tell.
I don’t know.
“Who would you choose to be?”
The answer surprised him: Myself.
“Then who are you?”
It seemed to take a long time before some part of Wing replied: Everyone.
And as the word settled in his mind, Wing felt his awareness shift back to the body that lay prostrate in the tall grasses by the river.
“I...” he muttered, but the words passing over his frail vocal cords caused him to cough.
When the coughing ceased, he realized, I’m ready. It wasn’t a statement. It was an acknowledgement.
“Then it’s time,” came the answer. “Complete what you began. Return to Rieeve.”
The gap closed.
From somewhere very far but also incredibly close, the translucent tendril thrummed, “Merehr. What you are has always been enough.”
From Wing’s core a great yellow flame burst — the fire of a galaxy, spinning ‘round a cosmic wheel, now and forever coalescing One Single Moment.
Wing inhaled sharply, his eyes rolled back in his head and he vanished once more, this time into light.
Chapter 75
Illumination
T he fire had dwindled to smoldering coals by the time Wing reached the cabin.
Nien looked up as Wing came in, Lucin at his side. The shy’teh slipped in and moved over to his spot on the rug where he and Wing slept. Carly had returned late and as Nien had been unable to speak when she’d come in, utterly caught up in his renewed connection with Wing, had let her believe him asleep as she was now.
Wing’s back was to Nien as he closed the door. When Wing turned around, light from the fireplace illuminated his face. Nien sat up. Wing’s eyes shimmered with the remnant of tears but they were also clear — shining reflections in the soft orange light that filled the room.
“Wing, you look…” Nien’s eyes flashed something unspeakable and holy. “Can you tell me?”
His leather-booted feet making only a soft padding sound on the floor, Wing moved toward the glowing coals in the fireplace. In his hand he held the small copy of the Ancient Writings Nien had given him as he’d left the cabin. Glancing over at Carly where she continued to sleep, Wing opened the small ledger, the copy of the Ancient Writings Rhusta had given him, to the seventh book, the book of the Prophet-Poet Eneefa, and read softly: “E fe de lebaan’a tuvle…Why did we forget? Despised and left. Thrown down from higher worlds — a scant tug on the sleeve. Forgotten. Abandoned to note. And line. And word. Just a beggar at the door.” Wing gazed down at the book. “I believed this, Nien. Like Eneefa when he wrote it, I was lost in a world I thought was real, because, like Eneefa, I had forgotten.” Wing looked up from the pages. “But I remember now. We have not been despised nor left. We have not been abandoned to that which we can only sing, or write, or speak. We are not beggars at the door.”
Though he was trying, Nien replied, “I’m not following you, Wing.”
Wing drew a short breath. “I’ve just had a set of remarkable conversations.”
“With who?” Nien asked.
“Well, with you, and Lant, and someone else I haven’t told you about yet.”
Nien looked at Wing with a collection of angelic wonder as well as confusion.
“That night, after Pree K came to me out in the fields and told me to go to Commander Lant, I ran to the castle instead. However, as I neared, a voice, and then a personage as clear and distinct as I see you, asked me to stop.”
“Who was it?”
“Though I had never seen him before and he offered no name, I knew it was our great ancestor.”
“Lyrik?” Nien said.
“Yes.”
As told by Reean, Lyrik had been a striking man with brown skin and silken black hair. It was to him, alone, that Wing’s genetic traits could be attributed.
“What did he say?” Nien asked.
“First, he asked me not to go to the castle. He then told me to go to Commander Lant.”
“The Plan?”
Wing nodded.
“Did he say anything else?”
“He said it wasn’t yet my time.”
Nien looked at him. “Time?”
“To die.” Wing met Nien’s eyes. “Obviously it wasn’t yours, either.”
Though Nien did not smile, his voice was as soft and close as the glowing embers of the fire as he asked, “So, what happened tonight? Can you tell me?”
Wing’s eyes shone with a crystalline quality so fine that Nien felt pierced to his heart. “He called me Merehr and said that I wouldn’t be alone.”
It took Nien a beat to find his voice. “Then it is you.”
“Merehr is a name. Maybe my name. But it is just a name. Our people worshiped the name, Nien, and forgot the truth the name was meant to represent.”
“The truth?” Nien asked.
“That everything is one thing.”
Wing glanced down at the Ancient Writings in his hand. “These prophets and poets wrote down those experiences that changed their lives, that they thought might open a window to the only heaven there is — the one inside.” Wing released a long breath. “We were the ones who made a religion of it, and by doing so backed ourselves into a corner, setting prerequisite on something that cannot be given nor taken away.” Wing grinned then, almost like a child. “Can you see it, Nien? The Ancient Writings are a collection of words wrapped around a feeling attempting to describe an experience. We forgot that and came to worship the picture those words painted. Those errors add up. If we believe that their word is enough for us, then it’s a small step to believe that our word must be enough for everyone else.”
“It would be like picking one tree in the Mesko forest and trying to prove that it was not only a tree, but the greatest tree, in fact, the only tree in the forest,” Nien said, feeling his way through what Wing was trying to convey.
“Yes,” Wing said. “We lived our lives trying to protect and defend what we thought was the truth, when what is true has need of nothing — least of all to be proven, protected, or defended.”
“If father had taken such a position,” Nien said, “if he had loved one of the great trees more than every other, the whole forest would have died. But he knew that even the greatest of the trees must be sacrificed if the new are going to grow, if the whole of the forest is to live.”
Wing nodded. “So we’ll rebuild. Rieeve was a grand tree, but it’s gone. So, we will begin again, and this time let’s not make the mistake of sacrificing the whole for our own small part of it.”
“What I still don’t understand is, if you are Merehr, are you also the Leader? Are they the same?”
Wing’s eyes glinted. “The Leader is me. And you. The Leader is an idea, an energy, and it’s in everyone and everything. Merehr is just another name. The truth is something I’d never suspected: that the Poets and Prophets weren’t talking about a single person at all, but a thread of the eternal that is the foundation of every living thing. They wrote not to tell us who we might become, but who we already are.”
“But as Merehr, you are the Leader,” Nien uttered. “You are the other, the one who escaped a desolating scourge to sojourn in a strange land, the one to whom the truth of the writings will be shown” — he paused — “was just shown. Our people were not wrong about you, at least not completely.”
Wing looked at him. “Nien, you escaped the same desolating scourge.” He glanced over at Carly. “So did she. Both of you have traveled here to Legran, a strange land.” Wing looked back at him. “And you, too, are beginning to understand.” Wing’s head bowed for a moment. “At first I was angry, so angry. I spent so many nights in the mountains after that night wondering why Eosha didn’t care enough to save our people.
But my anger soon turned to guilt over having done nothing, having rejected Lant’s request for me to join the Cant and the people’s desire for me to be their Leader. Continually, I asked why the visions were given to me, when I could see no way of using the information to help our people.
“Tonight I learned both questions were wrong. It’s not about whether Eosha or any of those ancient prophets cared or not. It’s about whether we care. It’s about us, Nien, because we are none other than the prophets we’ve been praying to. I once believed I was shown so I could do something to stop it. But, as you pointed out, there was nothing, then, that I could have done.”
“Uhh, I pointed out?”
“The you — there.”
“Oh.”
“So even though I’m still not sure why I had the nightmare visions, I know this: Life is about more than avoiding death.” Wing drew a long breath. “How could I have been so blind? I read this” — Wing motioned to the book in his hand — “everyday for the whole of my life and I did not see it.” He looked hard at Nien. “What are we, Nien? Helpless creatures? Castaways? Here to prove ourselves? To be tested and tried? To forever feel less than and unworthy of a god, out there somewhere?” Wing shook his head. “I don’t believe it. We took ourselves out of the picture when we are the picture. The road we’re on is the road we laid out in ages past, between star and moon, from breath to breath, to form ourselves as characters of intricate and infinite detail. We create all this. We’ve only forgotten that we have. We are so much more than we think we are. As one, we are all that is, all that ever was, and all that ever will be.”
Nien pressed his silvery-blue fingers to his forehead. “I don’t understand even half of what you just said, but there’s a feeling…How can I explain it when I have no words for it?”
Wing’s face was a shade of perfect understanding and Nien felt his frustration fade.
“I may not know exactly what I want,” Nien said, “but I know what I don’t want — I don’t want to live my life on the other end of choices I’ve made out of fear: Fear of being trapped, fear of not knowing enough, or as you said, never being enough.” He stood up. “I believe you. Are we going back?”
Just then Carly stirred in the bed and raised her head blearily. She blinked and saw Wing. “Wing?” she said. Nien watched as the same shift came over Carly’s face as had come over his own upon seeing. Slowly, she pushed herself up onto an elbow. She glanced at Nien. “You two all right?” she asked.
Wing stepped over to her and, avoiding stepping on Lucin, sat down on the bed beside her. Reaching out, her drew her into his chest. Carly’s sigh of relief almost brought tears to Nien’s eyes. As much as he had missed Wing, it had to have been so much harder on Carly to have the man she loved so distant, so bereft, and be helpless to understand or do anything about it.
When she withdrew from the circle of his arms again, she asked, “Did something happen?”
Nien almost laughed. He smiled broadly at her. “You could say that.”
Carly looked at Wing. “What?”
Wing smiled down at her and gave her mouth a quick kiss.
“It’s a long story,” Nien said. “But I just asked Wing if we are going back to Rieeve.”
Surprise and then concern flashed across Carly’s face; she looked at Wing questioningly.
Wing nuzzled the top of Carly’s head and then met Nien’s eyes. His smile opened a universe inside of Nien.
“No’va-hm in,” Wing said. “We will go back.”
Chapter 76
We Will Go Back
T he following day, near the steps that led out of the house toward the river, Monteray sat down greeting SiQQiy, Nien and Wing, and Carly, as well as Netalf, Terro Tellah, and Leef Keppik from SiQQiy’s personal Guard.
Unfurling a map, Monteray laid it out on the ground before him.
“I am tired of waiting,” Monteray announced. “We waited too long for Rieeve — I don’t intend to repeat that mistake. Call has agreed to go to Jayak as soon as some arrangements can be made. It is most likely I will be going to Jayak myself sometime soon, but first I will be organizing intelligence out of Legran. If there is movement in the mountains, I want to know about it.”
“I will also be sending word out,” SiQQiy said. “Leef and Terro will be leaving by riverboat for Preak; by the time I return home I should know what the Preak plan to do. Once in Quieness, I will also begin organizing my troops so that I will be ready once we’re apprised of the intentions of the other valleys.” SiQQiy’s eyes flitted over Nien, and then Wing and Carly before her gaze came to rest on Monteray. “We need to know what, exactly, the situation in Rieeve is.”
“Yes,” Monteray agreed. “And we need to know as soon as possible. This will determine how many forces from Quieness, Legran, and Jayak — if Takayo agrees — will be sent.”
On the other side of an uncomfortable bit of silence, Wing asked, “Why did they let the people of Lou and Tou live?”
The poignant phrasing of Wing’s question was not lost on the small gathering.
“You mean, why did they not let your people live?” Monteray said. “Other than being centrally located and naturally fortified, the reason is what I think we all know it to be: If Rieeve was taken no one would ever know they were there. They could rest, train, and gather without all the men and materials necessary to keep the local population under control.”
This was something Nien and Wing had already considered, but hearing from someone with Monteray’s reputation and experience helped confirm it.
Monteray continued, “And from Rieeve, the heart of our continent, Quieness, Jayak, nor Preak would expect invasion — though we should. It is likely the Ka’ull assumed that we would expect attack through the gap in the ranges, down the Tu’Lon River where the Ka’ull’s passage and access to their ships is easiest.”
“Then why did they try Jayak? Why did they not come directly into Rieeve?” Nien asked.
“My guess is it’s because they would have been going into Rieeve blind — with no idea about the valley or what kind of forces could have been called against them.”
Information they didn’t have until I gave it to them, Nien thought. Until I went down, joined the battle in Jayak, lost Bredo...
“Besides Quieness,” Monteray continued, “whose weight comes not only in skill but in great numbers — Jayak is their most formidable opposition. Perhaps they believed if they could take Jayak,” Monteray continued, “other valleys would fall more easily. That having failed, they moved on Rieeve instead.” Monteray shrugged. “Of course, this is all conjecture.”
“If the Ka’ull are building up their forces in Rieeve, wouldn’t we need to cut that supply line?” Carly said.
Monteray nodded and shifted the map in front of him. “The likely route would be through here, between the ranges. If they could be cut off here, they would suffer.” Monteray pointed to a spot northing of Rieeve where the Ti and Uki ranges met before breaking again at the southing end of Tou. “If we cut off supplies and trapped the rest in Rieeve, we’d have them.”
“Their advantage would be their undoing.”
“While we’re at it, we can send a force back up the Tu’Lon and burn their ships,” Carly said.
Nien glanced at her. He noticed that Wing had, too.
“Eventually, yes,” Monteray replied. “But before that happens we must assure that they are driven out of Lou — and Tou as well. Whether they take their ships back to their own land or die on them, I care not. As long as they never return.”
SiQQiy leaned forward, gazing over the map. “I could send a contingent of men through here,” she said, and pointed out a large gap near the top of Quieness’ sunrising border. “They could drop down and close off the Ti-Uki confluence.”
Monteray tapped the map with his finger. “If Takayo goes along with this, a division of his men could meet your contingent from the other side. Each force could work from opposite sides to pinch off the notch.”
> “What do you think the chances are that Takayo will agree?”
Contemplative, Monteray replied, “The Ka’ull have been in his valley. He knows the threat is real. Our disadvantage is the confidence the Jayakans have in their own forces. Our advantage is in Takayo’s wisdom...”
“And in his friendship with you and Commander Lant,” SiQQiy said. “I can send a contingent to join the Jayakans as well as three or more to Rieeve.”
Nien did not meet SiQQiy’s eyes, but he knew she had glanced at him. “What about Preak?” Nien asked. “Could the Ka’ull not sail the sunsetting sea line and come at the Preak from the southing — through Zhegata Bay?”
“I’ve been thinking on that,” SiQQiy replied. “This is something Leef and Terro will also bring to the discussion with Neda Ten, the head of Preak’s provincial governors.”
There was a pause in the dialogue and the small group noted Wing and Nien gazing unspeakingly at each other.
Becoming aware of the silence, the brothers looked up to find the eyes of the others upon them.
“Nien, Carly, and I will return to Rieeve; discover what is happening there now,” Wing said.
Monteray replied, “I’m not sure of the wisdom in the three of you returning to Rieeve. I will send in spies from my militia.”
“It’s our valley,” Nien said. “We will go.”
It was obvious Monteray and SiQQiy wanted to protest: if he, Wing, and Carly were caught they would be losing the last three Rieevans on their world. But this was something everyone was already aware of.
“I would offer a small force to go with you for protection,” Monteray said. “But until we have armies in place, a small contingent will help you no more than the three of you going in quietly — essentially as spies.”
Nien nodded, as did and Carly.
“I will be leaving near the end of this short cycle,” SiQQiy said. “Depending on the news I receive on the situation in Rieeve, I could have forces there before the first snows.”
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