by C K Burch
Sighing, Dust nodded.
Karaang repeated the same intricate dance with its hands, and when it laid them over Dust's head there was a curiously hot sensation that immediately snuck between his ears. It laced itself around his mind, swimming deep into his thoughts, like whorls of cream in coffee. Aware that there was something changing within him, Dust still yet felt calm and removed from fear of it; it felt as though his mind had submerged into a cool river on a hot summer's day, and he distantly felt himself smiling in relief.
Karaang removed its hands and smiled at him.
“Welcome to the Kingdom of Shambhala,” Karaang spoke, with a cocky bow. Where before, its words had been guttural and bestial, now the inflection from between its lips had become unmistakably feminine in nature.
Dust raised his eyebrows.
How delightfully unexpected.
***
IX
“W-what,” Dust attempted to say, “what did you, uh, what did – ”
Karaang smiled, almost as though she understood already just how rare it was to have Dust McAlan speechless. “We are the Bandara. You have proven yourselves well in combat, and have returned one of the sacred Stones of Entry to us.” It – or, rather, she – gave a slight bow. “But now night comes swift, and we must retreat. Vicious beasts that only rise in the dark will soon stir, and we should not want to dwell here when they do. We will take you to our village to safety.”
Dust mused over this. It all sounded well and good, but there was still the matter of Ryder and Thomas, and as Dust began to point this out, Jack stepped forward and spoke first.
“We would be honored,” she replied, “but we've a matter of some urgency. The other men here, they're dangerous, and they're after the Amrita in the center of the city. If they reach it – ”
Karaang held out a palm for silence. “Dangerous men. We understand this. It is our sacred duty to guard the honey of paradise, so we will uphold this task, but they will doubtful last the night. And if they do, it will weaken their resolve.”
Honey of paradise. Jack's eyes lit up at this confirmation of the legends.
“But, uh, Your Highness?” Jack stammered, quite unsure of the proper moniker for the guardian. “They've a map. I drew it. It's, well, it's crude, and meandering, but they know the way. If by some reason they are able to outmatch these creatures you're speaking of – they have weapons. Powerful ones.”
“We understand. They shall not reach the honey.” Karaang's face glowered intently. “Whatever new machines humans have built in the time since their last visit, they will not defend them for long. And we do understand how violent these weapons are.” She sniffed. “Adequate, but inaccurate. What do you call them?”
“Guns,” Dust chimed in.
Karaang laughed. “Guns. A simple word for a simple weapon. Arrows are far more precise.”
“But not as fast. Or as deadly. Or can cover as long a distance.” Dust felt himself begin to bristle, and immediately questioned himself on why. Was the modern man taking umbrage at the native notions of antiquated weaponry?
Karaang picked up on this, and came chest-to-chest with Dust...so to speak. The guardian towered a full head's height over the treasure hunter.
“A weapon is only as deadly as the warrior who wields it.” She casually flicked the bullwhip at Dust's belt. The handle smacked against his inner thigh suggestively, which made him jump. Karaang's smile lounged on her face; she looked him up-and-down as though she wished for him to be stretched across her table like a full meal. “You would seem to understand how distance is managed by skill, not mere length.”
Dust swallowed. He'd never been hit on by a monkey before.
Jack cleared her throat. “My friend is with our enemy. A boy. He needs to be rescued.”
“Does he?” Karaang turned to Jack. “My sympathies.”
“You don't understand.” Utilizing wide gesticulations, Jack attempted to plead her case, waving out at the rest of the city. “He's alone, with people who don't understand him, in a world that he does not understand either. Either of those things could kill him if the circumstances go awry in the slightest. He must be terrified.”
“As well he should be.”
“Dammit, I can't just leave him out there like this, especially if it is as dangerous as you say. I won't leave him. He – ”
“Soft.” Karaang held out one palm for silence. “Your devotion to your kin brings honor upon you. I sense you mean well, but there is nothing we can do for this child now. Should he survive the night – and these interlopers prove themselves worthy of their weapons – then when morning comes, we can retrieve him. But the night is full of death. I can offer you little hope.”
Jack began to argue once more, but grasped the finality of Karaang's words, and paused herself. Fidgeting, she chose to nod, and then raised an eyebrow at Dust, as if pleading for some sort of answer to this problem.
He shrugged. “If there's nothing we can do, there's nothing we can do. Trying to play heroes right now and putting ourselves in worse harm's way won't do us any good. I say we go back to their village, wait out the night, leave in the morning.”
“Our scouts will leave first at dawnbreak in order to sight them. Then we shall find your stolen kin.” Karaang looked around the crowd, and made a series of complicated gesticulations that reminded Dust of a cross between sign language and field directions. At this, a pair of guardians in attendance grunted and nodded, immediately leaping away into the city. Karaang returned to the humans. “We must leave. Quickly. Darkness falls with speed here.” Karaang bowed her head, then turned and snapped her fingers twice, summoning two other guardians from above. Once they'd landed, Karaang pointed to both Dust and Jack.
“Be their mounts,” she ordered.
The guardians nodded, then approached their targets.
“Uh,” Dust began, hands up. “We're, uh – what?”
“You shall ride upon their backs,” Karaang spoke plainly. “We shall carry you to our home.”
“That – ” Dust exhaled quietly. Part of him did not quite find the idea of riding on the back of a large primate to be an appealing method of travel.
Jack elbowed him. “Stop hesitating. You're the one who said we ought to go with them.”
“I'm not hesitating, I'm, you know, considering alternate means of travel.”
“Which would be?”
He opened his mouth to speak, and when nothing immediately came out, he sighed. “Well, when in Rome.”
Dust turned and nearly came face-to-chest with the guardian standing before him.
“Sorry,” he muttered. Then he looked up into what he imagined was a very unpleasant face. “Hello. Uh, do you come here often?”
“On patrol, twice a week,” the guardian replied. She, too, spoke in lilting feminine tones, and Dust wondered how many of the Bandara were female. Perhaps they were a matriarchy. An intriguing concept.
Dust tapped his chest. “Dust.”
The guardian rolled her eyes. “I overheard. I am Johyung. I shall carry you.”
“Oh.” Right. “Sounds good, I guess.”
Johyung gave him her backside, and, as delicately as one could, he reached forward and wrapped arms around her neck and clenched either side of her body with his thighs – not unlike riding a horse, as the Bandara warrior was about as wide. He turned briefly to see Jack also mounted as such on her chalet, a look of far less discomfort over her features than on his. As a woman of privilege, she no doubt had much more horseback experience than he; clearly, there was an enjoyment on her face that he did not share.
Karaang shouted orders. Before he could properly steel himself, Dust was launched into the air upon Johyung's back. He gripped the guardian's fur as tight as he could, to no ill response, which was very good indeed because the lurching sensation in his stomach required no other response. Racing planes in the air derby couldn't hope to hold a candle to this: gliding, soaring weightlessness for moments at a time, followed by a
brief, shuddering halt as Johyung would land and then quest for its next perch, then out once more through the air, sometimes a pendulum as Johyung grasped the poles to launch them. After the sudden beginning, as he became used to it, Dust quickly felt a thrilling adrenaline spike his body, and he began to laugh. It was absolutely magnificent, the kind of experience that would only come once in a lifetime, and he grinned madly, soaking it in. Somewhere behind him, he heard Jack cackling wildly, truly enjoying the experience as well.
As best as he could, Dust turned around to view the city ruins slowly disappear behind them, their goal and their enemies along with it. Whatever turn this adventure was taking, he could not fathom, but only hoped that the deviousness Ryder and Thomas held in store would aid in protecting Cairn and their caravan for the length of the night. If Karaang had not exaggerated her words for the danger of the creatures in the night, then they would require all of their skills to hold out. For now, his curiosity had finally taken hold, and he held on for dear life in both necessity and excitement at the idea of the revelation of the Bandara village.
***
Crossing the ruins took little time, but even in that space the sky had blackened to the degree where only the stars could be seen above them – and what a sight it was. Lifting his gaze to the heavens, Dust made note that none of the constellations were recognizable to him, sealing his belief that they were somewhere that was nowhere – or, perhaps, no when. However, as they landed on the outskirts of the Bandara village, Dust could tell that now was not the time to bring this to Jack's attention. She chewed on the corner of her lip, pensively, pulling at the edges of her cuticles. Nerves assaulted her as she no doubt gave worry over Cairn's current fate, which he did not blame her for. Somewhere in the distance, an alien howl filled the night, and even he had to wonder at the fate of the lad. Ryder was good, yes, and with the proper credit and preparation could survive any hostile environment. But paradise was a mystery. Despite himself, Dust found his wishes leaning to Ryder being as capable as he seemed, if only for Cairn's sake.
Looking inward at the village, Dust felt marvel crawl up and down his spine. Before them was a gateway, constructed of sturdy bark and branch, which stood twenty feet tall and swept out to either side in a wide swath, which appeared to curl inwards somewhere near a hundred yards on either side; it was difficult to tell in the light, which was provided by flaming torches that stood every thirty feet upon the wall. Stitched together with masterful precision, Dust could hardly make out any sort of weakness in the construction. Indeed, were the caravan somehow find the village, and the armored truck make a pass at barreling through the wall, the truck would no doubt be repelled and the wall would nary see a dent. Probably built as such because dinosaurs and other prehistoric creatures held great weight in these parts. He shook his head at the idea of modern man taking such things into account.
Passing through the gate, Dust noted that the village was primarily constructed up in the tops of the trees within the protection of the gate, reaching sometimes as high as thirty feet or more. Intricately woven bridges, suspended by rope and vine, swayed gently between heavy trunks, which were wider than three men side-by-side. Homes that put most of the Cairo houses to shame were built directly among the branches, sometimes built using the branches themselves – it was unbearably intriguing to view how the trees almost seemed to absorb the huts, like old lovers, drawing each other into an eternal embrace, Small torches were lit upon some of the huts, where Dust could see many Bandara looking down at the returning troops, including these strange humans with them. On the ground, there were few huts, which appeared to be mostly for the sake of producing resources. Farming, smithing, gathering, storing – strolling between these empty buildings (as nighttime seemed to indicate that business was closed for the day), Dust grinned, taking all of this information in, but still could see there was as yet much for him to question. How did they thrive? How long had they lived here? How big, truly, was this village? But there was no time for questions. Karaang and the others strode forward at a brisk clip, towards the largest of the buildings on the ground: the town hall, it seemed.
Entering town hall – the main entry of which was flanked on either side by dinosaur skulls and torches – Karaang gestured towards a large table that was placed at the far end of the hall. Leading up to this table, a variety of smaller tables rested on either side of the hall, all of them set on the ground, with thick pelts set on the floor for seating purposes. Each pelt was braided and woven with colorful threads throughout, and as they passed by, Dust noticed differing patterns for different tables. Hierarchy in seating. How interesting. Meanwhile, on the walls, more dinosaur skulls and bones and other trophies had been placed high for viewing, the pride of the warriors of the hunt. Dust glanced over at Jack to gather her thoughts, and the look on her face spoke of awe and bewilderment. Some of these bones did not seem recognizable to her – even more interesting. What wonders did the lost world still hold?
“Sit,” Karaang gently commanded as they reached the main table. She made silent gestures, and some of the party left. Johyung sat on the right hand of Karaang, which made Dust feel even more silly for introducing himself in such an insulting way. At least Jack still had some semblance of poise about her, as she sat cross-legged upon her pelt, back ramrod straight, chin forward. Money and manners took over her, a vast difference between her introduction in Cairo and now. He allowed himself to smile, but not much beyond that; it made him notice his slouch, and how painful and awkward it was to sit up straight. But damned if he didn't try.
A heavy pause filled the hall. Expectation seemed great.
“Speak,” Karaang finally said. “Let us know your story of why you are here. Then shall we proceed.”
Odd, but negotiable. Between the two of them, Dust and Jack gave the truncated version of their journey thus far, of betrayals and battles. There were finer details in the story that Dust had not been privy to before, such as how Jack had come across the information and sketches of the lost world, her delights and emotions at coming here. Part of him felt wistful, and wished that he had understood her mind a little better before this, but it was so very interesting and unique to hear her perspective that he soon moved on from this, and became lost in the sound of her voices moving over and around each syllable. It felt like music. When she finished, he had to shake his head free of the spell that he had succumbed to; a very unexpected trance. Karaang nodded appreciatively at their tale.
“You have witnessed much, and you have displayed your wisdom in discovering our lost home,” she replied. “You are both welcome and safe here.”
“I have so many questions,” Jack chimed in, taking control of the narrative. “Your people. How long have you lived in this world?”
“For as long as the world has existed.” Karaang sighed. “It was not always as it is. The gods, they created the ruins of the city you've seen, and we the Bandara have lived in this valley since time began. Our culture was sparked by their settling here, and their discovery of the honeymakers.”
“We call them bees,” Jack said.
Karaang shivered. “Blasphemous. Honeymakers is much more honorable. They are creatures of deft skills and talent, and far more deadly and wise than that simplistic name would belie.”
Dust nodded. “Sure thing. Honeymakers. Great.”
“You do not care for them?”
Catching his tone, Dust backpedaled. “Well, I mean, you know. They do great things. But. Well. I'm not, you know, a fan. Or really just, I guess I could say that – ”
Karaang raised her hand. “You are afraid of them. That is good. Fear is the path to awe.”
Something along those lines. Dust kept his mouth shut and nodded.
Jack chimed in. “Was Hanuman the first among you to meet with the gods?”
“No,” Karaang answered. “Our palaver began many years before the time of Hanuman and her journey with the human known as Rama. She was, however, instrumental in helping create the se
al which holds this world hidden from man.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “I thought Hanuman was, well, a man.”
Karaang scoffed, then outright howled with laughter. “Oh, how delightful. There are no males within our species. Hanuman was as much a female as you and I.”
“You're all female?” Dust took a look around there room – there was quite the number of Bandara about. “How do you reproduce?”
“There are ways to reproduce which do not require seed,” she purred.
Dust nodded appreciatively. Tomes of history and science would need updating.
“But,” Karaang continued, “as the gods took control of this area, we met with them, kindly, and were gifted many things. Weapons, agriculture, and the means to thrive and evolve in this land. In return, we agreed to be the protectors of their cities, and of the hives of the honeymakers, onwards and even past their departure from this place. When they left, it was not because they held disdain for our home, but out of protection.”
“This is where Hanuman comes in,” Dust mused.
“Correct. Rama, as the avatar of the gods, was tasked with returning to Hanuman the means of crossing the boundaries of this world.” Karaang held out her hand, the keystone resting in her palm. “But, there was more than one stone to allow entry to this world, and as our ties with gods and man were severed, we realized that not all stones were held accountable for. This one, perhaps, may be the last. Which is for the best. Humans had misused the Amrita's power far too many times, and so the gods decided it would be best to leave this place alone out of fear that it would be discovered time and time again.”
“What power does the Amrita hold?” Jack inquired.
“It heals.” Karaang smiled, as though there were many memories attached to this simple answer. “Perhaps it is the honeymakers themselves responsible for this result, or the pollen they choose. However the result, the honey itself provides healing. Wounds, ailments, broken bones....it can even resurrect the dead.”