by Lynn Moon
“What is this?” I ask. “Where did the vegetables come from?”
“Our friends,” he answers. He blows on a spoonful of the hot food.
“This is good.” It’s too hot to eat so I set mine down while I excuse myself to freshen up. “Can I choose where we explore today?” I holler from the wash area.
“Fine,” he replies.
After I bathe in the running water, brush my hair and get dressed, I rejoin Takoda to finish my breakfast. The flavor’s amazing. I can definitely taste tomato and potato, but that’s all that’s familiar. I’m surprised, again, by what Takoda can accomplish with so little.
“Okay,” he says as he hoists his small pack over his shoulder. “It’s your choice, which way?”
“This way.” I point as we head toward the water pool.
He smiles and grabs me around the waist and kisses my cheek. “Another romp in the water?”
“No, silly.” I run playfully away from him. “Well, not now anyway.” I wink.
We talk about what the virtual man told us. We’ve been walking about an hour, when we come to an ancient doorway with twisting stairs carved from the rock face. They twist upward. It’s very steep and makes me nervous.
“It’s obvious you know where we’re going,” he surmises.
“Not really,” I reply, out of breath. My legs are screaming in pain as I continue to push myself to climb to the top.
“Where are we trying to go?” He stops for a few seconds to rest.
“To the gardens.” I strain to hear a soft chirping. “Birds?”
Fresh air greets us closer to the top, and the sounds of chirping birds and other animals echo down the stairwell. The sounds of life suddenly give us strength and we run to the top. We enter into a vast garden. On one side is the rock cliff extending miles into the sky. As we walk, we realize it’s a vast field of vegetation. Birds fly over and dip into the growth to emerge with something in their beaks. A small stream winds through the field and ends in a small pond.
“This garden must cover the whole city!” I surmise.
Various fruit trees tower above us. Row upon row of vegetables grow wildly, fighting each other for space. Takoda picks up something and tells me its name.
“That’s a Pelonnia,” he says, taking my hand. “But I believe you are correct. This field must cover the city.”
“How much work this had to have been,” I add. We walk through the thick growth enjoying the strong aroma of the fruit trees. “I guess the Nomaddas live off these fruits and vegetables.”
“I agree.”
We aim for a small building far off in the distance. Being made from rocks and tree logs, it’s in relatively good shape. After living in silence for the last several days, it’s a wonderful sensation listening to all the wildlife.
“What a beautiful bird.” A huge red parrot-type bird flies across our path.
We reach a small grove of fruit trees and decide it’s the perfect place to sit and eat our lunch. A deep grunting sound comes from not too far away.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Not sure,” he replies.
“Maybe there’s some animals still around? Animals they raise for their food?”
“Maybe,” he replies, glancing around nervously. “I don’t see how else an animal could have gotten up here.”
The grunting grows louder. Just in front of us, a huge pig-looking animal walks by with its snout searching the ground. It’s large and we freeze, hoping it won’t notice us, which it doesn’t.
“That looks like a hog or pig,” I whisper.
“I do not know about a hog or pig, but there’s obviously farm animals here.”
We finish our lunch and resume our walk toward the small rock building. Takoda points out several people off in the distance tilling the soil. Hoods cover their heads and faces.
“Let’s talk to them,” I suggest.
Takoda smiles. As we approach, one stops working and leans on their shovel. I wave and the worker waves back.
“Good day to you, my friend,” I say, as we get closer.
The worker bows his head in respect.
“Hello,” I say when I’m standing in front them.
The other workers stop tilling at the sound of my voice, and the first worker lowers his hood. The woman is in her early twenties. She’s slender and wearing a colorful robe with beaded sandals. She reminds me of Abeytu, but with darker hair, which is braided with leather and beads. She smiles, but doesn’t speak. Her skin is wrinkled like everyone else who lives down below, but she is white not black.
“My name is Journey and this is Takoda, we’re here on Trial.” The young woman doesn’t reply.
I glance up at Takoda with a look of helplessness. He nods and speaks in a beautiful language I’ve never heard before.
Takoda speaks with such confidence I realize he knows this language as well as he knows mine. The language includes clicks made deep in the back of the throat. He talks to the woman as I play with my tongue wondering how he’s making the sound.
The girl immediately replies.
Takoda smiles and glances over at me. “Well that explains it.”
“Oh yeah, most definitely.” I stare at him wondering if he forgot I’m from Earth.
“Oh, sorry.” He chuckles. “They are the keepers of this area, and do not live below with the Nomaddas.”
“I probably could have figured that out for myself by just watching them.” I punch Takoda on the arm.
Since I can’t communicate with the keepers, I explore while Takoda talks with the young woman. The younger worker comes up to me offering berries.
“These are great.” I take a few more from her. The more I eat, the more I want.
After eating several berries, my hearing fades and the light dims. It’s hard to stand. I reach out for support but find the ground instead. Takoda’s by my side, but as he tries to help, my world goes dark.
The old woman from below is standing silently in front of me, her amber eyes full of sorrow and pain. I want to comfort her, but I’m not sure how.
“Where am I?”
She motions for me to follow her. Fear swells inside me and my self-preservation mode kicks into high gear. My hands reach out grabbing at anything solid, but there’s nothing there. I am nowhere, but everywhere, at the same time.
She stops walking and faces me. I gasp. She’s no longer old but young and beautiful. She smiles and she speaks softly. “You are seeing what you expect to see, Journey. I am here to help you, nothing more.”
“Who are you?”
“My name’s Shyanna,” she replies.
“Shyanna was my great grandmother’s name,” I say. “Am I dreaming?”
“As I said, I am here to help you,” Shyanna says. She’s still smiling. “Since this is your dream, where shall we go?”
“How old are you?” I ask. Shyanna is a little less than six feet with long beautiful red hair. Her features are strong and remind me of Native Americans back home. She’s wearing a colorful smock beautifully decorated with beads and leather straps.
“When I looked as you see me now, I was only twenty of your Earth years. A few years later I would marry and give birth to your grandmother, Lylillea.”
“Where are we?” I ask again.
“As I said, this is your dream. Where do you want to go?” she adds.
“To your home.”
I find myself standing just outside the crystal pool in the ancient city. But the city’s no longer ancient but new and fresh, bustling with life. People working and playing are living out their days.
“This was before the great illness,” Shyanna explains as she stands next to me.
Potted plants are everywhere. Some sit on the floor in huge pots while others hang from large baskets, their vines falling to the floor. Birds of all colors fly above, singing their songs to each other. Off in the distance somewhere, I hear men and women singing. It’s a wonderful song and fills my heart with longing. Me
rchants sell their wares from shops along the streets and children play.
“Everyone seems happy and healthy,” I say. The people are definitely human, but they look different. Taller, thicker hair, some have strong facial features while others have a softer, smoother look. Their skin is a mixture of orange, red, and yellow. Not unhealthy…but vibrant.
“Come.” Shyanna takes my hand. We walk a short distance when we come to a flight of steps. I follow her as we enter a small home.
The room is comfortably furnished with a table and benches cushioned with knitted blankets and large stuffed pillows. I can make out a sleeping area, a kitchen and bathroom.
“Please, sit and relax,” she suggests, pointing to the sitting area. “I will make tea.”
“How come you speak English?” I ask.
“We are speaking the common language of all time,” she answers. “You call it English, we call it Saxonion. It is the oldest language of all humans. It is the law to keep it alive.”
“Why is it so important?”
Shyanna carries two steaming cups and hands one to me. She blows on hers and takes a small sip.
“We hope to one day reunite with all the others, and when we do, we need to be able to communicate. Therefore, when our ancestors left the home world, a law was passed that forbids the ancient language to be forgotten.” Shyanna has a look of expectation in her eyes; I’m not sure if it’s hope or longing.
“What happened to your home world?” I ask, taking a sip of my tea. It’s bitter but tasty.
Shyanna sighs and I can tell she’s choosing her words carefully. “It was many generations ago. We were explorers of the heavens. The planets did not have human life, but they were intriguing to us. Those planets were a place to relax or study. The planets that could not sustain life, we mined for resources. During one voyage, our scientists studying an outer distant water world encountered the Draconians. They are a reptilian race.”
“Reptilian?” I repeat. “You mean lizards?”
“In a way, yes,” she replies. “The Draconians are a warrior race. They live to fight and conquer, nothing more. The scientists tried to make contact, but they were attacked. They hurried home, but were followed. The Draconians hunted us for food, or to make us slaves. Many were captured. We had no choice but to defend ourselves.”
“It must have been terrible,” I say.
“It was a very dark time. Our grand cities were all but destroyed and when they fired their ultimate weapon, it affected our planet’s inner core. Our planet stopped spinning and half our world became uninhabitable. Our large factories started building ships to save as many people as possible. Over a thousand ships were launched before the final destructive strike. Our world exploded and our ships felt the shock even though they were outside our solar system. The death of so many souls damaged our inner being. Pain and despair became a way of life. Even to this day, some children still relive those lost souls in their dreams. We do not understand how or why, but some children are tortured for years. It is as if our souls are demanding revenge.”
“Where are these Draconians now?” I ask.
“We do not know. They have not shown themselves since the destruction of our home world. But we believe someday they will return.”
The idea of fighting a war with large lizards reminds me of a horror movie I used to watch as a kid. “Where’s Spiderman when you really need him?” I whisper.
“Excuse me?” Shyanna asks.
“Nothing.” I laugh to myself, realizing, yet again, how truly different my new world is from my old.
I set my tea on the table and rub my hands together. “If we can go anywhere, I wish to see the original Elders.”
“I would not advise that,” she says. Her face emerged with fear.
“Why not?”
“They do not know of you yet. It would be best if it stays that way, at least for a little while longer,” she answers. “While you train.”
“Train?” I ask. “For what exactly? This is just a dream, remember?”
“This is a dream, yes, but you are also in my mind. We are sharing our thoughts. You must train to take your place.”
“My place in my dreams?” I can tell that she knows more than she’s telling. I’m getting upset.
She laughs and shakes her head. “Not in your dream, Journey. But it is time for you to return. Come visit me when you can.”
“What? Where?” I’m confused.
“You know where to find me.”
“Journey?” Takoda’s voice echoes as Shyanna fades from my view. But as she fades, she changes back from a beautiful young woman to the old woman from the caves below. I open my eyes and my hands reach for my pounding head. Takoda whispers, “Shh, take it easy. Here, sip some of this.”
Cool water slides past my lips and runs down my dry throat. “What happened?” My vision is beginning to clear, but my head is pounding. I’m back in my sleeping bag with a wet rag on my forehead. “More water, please.” It takes several more gulps of the cool liquid before I can relax. “How long have I been out?”
“Three days.”
“Three days! Are you kidding?” I holler, trying to sit up.
“I’m not kidding,” he answers. “And don’t get up. You need to rest. I was so worried about you. Do you think you could eat anything?”
“Maybe some fruit?”
He eats. I nibble. But I feel better afterwards. Explaining my experience with my great grandmother makes it seem unreal.
“Do you think it was real?”
“I’ve heard about people going through the same experience. But why would that worker give you those berries?”
“I don’t know, maybe when I’m better we can go back and ask?”
“We may not be able to. We’re at the end of our time and will need to leave soon.” He rubs my arm and kisses my forehead. “You really had me worried, Journey.”
“I’m fine, but I’m not ready to leave yet. I really want to go back and see those workers. And I still have questions for the 3-D guy, and I wish to visit the old woman again, and…”
“Shh,” Takoda whispers. He bends down and we kiss. His lips are warm and sweet. He sits back and smiles. “We may have time for one more day trip, but that is all. We begin our trip home the day after tomorrow.”
“The old woman…” I whisper. As Takoda steals another kiss, her old worn eyes float through my mind.
16
AGES
THE MORNING comes all too soon. I could have slept another few hours, but Takoda’s up and preparing breakfast.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
I wipe my eyes. “Good morning. Any coffee?”
Takoda hands me a steaming cup as I drop my legs from the side of the bed. I take a sip. “I wonder if this was meant to be used as a bed?” I pat the sleeping bags.
“Not sure what else it would have been used for,” he answers. “Come, eat.”
After breakfast we try to find the people who live down below. The more we search, the more we have to accept that we don’t know how to find them.
“We’ll need to ask the Nomaddas to show us the way,” I suggest. We change our direction to head back to the 3-D man. But when we find him there are no Nomaddas. “Well this is just great,” I say, dropping my backpack. “We don’t know where anyone lives.”
“There are several paths left to explore. We should try one,” Takoda suggests.
The dark hall directly behind the 3-D man leads us to a set of steep stairs. We stand there staring. Our legs are still sore, but we climb. At the top, we find ourselves on a large platform overlooking the city.
“Check this out!” Standing near the stone railing, we can see the large ancient ruins carved from the cavern walls. We can see the sky from here and realize the city is not in a cave, but buried deep between two rock cliffs. It’s these cliffs that steal the sun’s rays from the streets. But down even farther, a thin red lake flows from the tip of the cavern and flows as far as ou
r eyes can see. “Is that the lava that heats the city?” I point to the thin red line.
“Yes, that is correct,” a voice answers from behind us. We start and turn to see the old woman from the underground city. “The lake returns any fallen rocks back to the soul of our planet.”
“We wanted to come to you, Great Grandmother Shyanna, but we didn’t know how to find you.” I cautiously approach her with a smile. But she backs away. I hesitate. “We were looking for the Nomaddas to help us find you, but then we realized we didn’t know how to find them either.”
“You climbed all these stairs in search of what exactly?” Her grin shows amusement and not anger.
“You,” I reply. “I had to find you.”
“Why?” A look of understanding shows in her smile, “Since you are here my, daughter, please follow me.” She takes a path that leads us to another set of stairs.
“More stairs,” I groan.
Takoda shrugs.
“She called me daughter,” I whisper.
“You are her daughter, just a few generations down,” he explains. “We would call her Mother.”
“I see,” I reply.
We enter a chamber painted in gold. Every wall, the ceiling and the floor sparkle with gold. The chamber vibrates slightly, and we can feel it resonating.
“Gold?” Takoda asks.
“Yes, it’s a recovery chamber,” my great grandmother replies. “Gold has natural healing properties. Can you feel it? And, Journey, you may call me Grandmother. It is a name you are familiar with. I do not mind.”
She heard me?
We follow her to a smaller dark and cold room in the back. The old woman pulls a large gold chain hanging from the ceiling. A strong light hits and makes us shield our eyes. As our eyes adjust, we see the one long mural of men and women standing in small groups.
The old woman points to a young child of about three. Her hair’s a bright red and her smile lights up her whole face. She’s adorable and reminds me a little of Makayah.
“This,” she says, not taking her eyes off the child, “is me.”
I point to a man and woman standing behind the child. “These are your parents?”
The old woman nods.