Servants and Followers

by Courtney Bowen

But their progress slowed to a crawl the next day and day after that, especially when they had to grab onto the face of the mountainside, staggering across with their feet threatening to slip. Monika was of great help with her previous experience of mountain-climbing.

  She told them of the best foot- and hand-holds, how to use the rope to secure themselves. Fato kept up with them, and sometimes went ahead, though wind gusts kept knocking him back.

  It was hard to move and rest in this dangling position, but they managed to hang on, stopping to rest on any wide ledge they could find before continuing. On the 22nd day, they reached the other side of the mountain, but stopped here as the weather got bad.

  They managed to find a cave, barely more than a rift as sleet came down and the temperature dropped close to freezing. They’d no wood for a fire to keep them warm and few rations left to eat.

  “Don’t stop singing.” Gnat shivered as she looked up at him. “Or at least say something.”

  “Like what?” Basha asked, wondering if they all looked pale and blue, even Fato beneath his feathers.

  “I don’t know. Do you know any stories?”

  “Of course I do. Usually Old Man’s the only one who tells stories in my hometown, but I’ll try.”

  Myth of Tau’s Cup

  Mila and Popo slowly recovered from the shock of Tau’s birth, as Tau was put in charge of the grass, fields, prairies, and valleys not under the other gods’ domains. They left him alone, and he wondered if he’d upset them as he looked up at the sky, and wondered why no one had claimed it yet.

  Possessing the strength and height of Popo, the fire and ferocity of Menthar, the ineffability and inevitability of Loqwa, and the growth and magic of Mila, Tau rose up into the sky. Whereas all of the other gods had failed to rise after being dropped from the sky, he possessed all of their qualities and reached it.

  The sun, moon, stars, and clouds were his. He claimed them for himself and the other gods. He opened a bridge, the rainbow between sky and earth, and the gods climbed up. He became king of the Cloud Rulers.

  Mila and Popo recovered sufficiently enough, and loved each other enough, that they bore a daughter named Quela. Yet Mila’s strength had diminished in death and she allowed Quela to take on some of her responsibilities, caring for female animals and their offspring as well as nourishing and replenishing the waters of the earth.

  Tau and Quela eventually wedded as the only other gods in their generation, and Quela became queen of the gods. Quela bore a daughter named Gorbana, who wandered Mila’s forest and joined the predatory animals in their hunt, leading to her designation as goddess of the hunt and of animals in general, taking away more of Mila’s responsibilities.

  Gorbana often associated with Loqwa as Gorbana’s hunt led to the prey’s demise. For a while, they and Menthe were the only gods on the earth as the others stayed in the sky. There was nothing for them to do as nature took its course, the mechanics running like clockwork and they only had to guide it.

  The gods and animals were the only living beings, and the gods could only depend upon each other for company, minus Menthar in exile and oftentimes Loqwa, who stayed busy. Finally, Tau couldn’t stand the boredom.

  “This is our world to mold and shape,” Tau turned to the other gods. “Yet it’s too quiet and serene. We need something to stir up and reshape this world, like us, but in a different way. Something that needs our attention and devotion when we can determine their lives, attend to or devote to us as well. Something that can drive and make us greater, or amuse and divert us!”

  “What are you talking about?” Quela asked impatiently.

  “Another being.” Tau took the Cup from his table, and dove down to earth with it.

  Tau’s Cup was the most precious thing seen on Earth yet, a beautiful gold goblet encrusted with black jewels and diamonds along its rim, touched by the Cloud Ruler Tau himself with his mark. Tau landed in the desert, and looked upon Menthar.

  “So you’re Tau.” Menthar stared upon his son.

  “And you’re one of my fathers.” Tau grimaced.

  “Why’re you here?”

  “I want to create a new being that isn’t a god or an animal.”

  “A little bit of both perhaps?”

  “Perhaps. Menthar, you created the first animals when you boiled the water and stirred life. You were closest to Loqwa when he dug. You must’ve glimpsed some of what was revealed or released. You know more than some of your fellow gods.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Menthar, I want to know how to create such a being, and you’re my best bet. You know what it takes to give and take away life.”

  Menthar grimaced. “I hate being reminded and punished for what happened to Mila. What can I do to end my punishment forever? What can I do to apologize?”

  “Apologize? You can’t!” Tau paused. “I’ll speak with Mila and Popo. Perhaps enough time has passed that you can be forgiven. Perhaps not. I’ll do my best if you help me.”

  “Take the sand from the desert. It’s been cooked by the sun, by my hatred, anger, and envy as I paced across it. You need such coarse sand for what you’re about to create. For such drive, passion, anger, envy, and evil that comes from its life.”

  Tau scooped up the sand with his Cup, and drained the desert. “What next?”

  “Ask your wife and mother. Tell your mother what you’ve bargained for.”

  Tau grimaced and left Menthar. He went back to the Cloud Rulers, and asked Quela what she’d put in the Cup.

  “Water’s necessary to sustain life. Life can’t exist without water.” Quela retrieved some for him. “Water’s everything and nothing, like life. Water fills you, yet leaves you empty and wanting more. Water’s endless. It covers the Earth, yet it’s precious as well. Water’s where life came from. Land rose from water, animals were borne from it, and our parents were dropped into it. Water may lead to our demise as well, when we fight over and drown in it, ingesting too much.” He took her bowl. “Water’s pure and simple, complex and destructive. Water’s love, intelligence, and so much more.”

  “Thank you, Quela. Water balances out the sand,” Tau poured the water from her bowl into his Cup until the bowl was empty. “But it’s still not enough. Something must tip the scale towards life.”

  “Where’d you get that sand?” Quela asked.

  “That reminds me,” Tau turned to his mother Mila. “I bargained with Menthar to help me.”

  “How could you?” Mila cried, aghast at her son’s audacity as Popo frowned.

  “Mother, I’ve got to create this being, it’s my destiny. Menthar has the knowledge. He told me to ask you and father Popo for forgiveness, for an end to his punishment. He wants to apologize.”

  “He can’t ever. I won’t accept it, whatever he has to say.”

  “Don’t upset your mother!” Popo said.

  “I might accept for you both. Now tell me what to put in this Cup.” Tau waited.

  “Pour your blood into the Cup and breathe.” Mila frowned. “Your blood’s divine, the mix of all your parents. Though the sand and water will dilute the power, immortality, and divinity, it’ll grant whatever being you create the ability to rise above animals, and to stretch towards the sky. A nobility, creativity, identity, inner drive, and purpose, maybe magic, all of this combined is in your blood. It’ll be granted to this mortal being and your breath is the final ingredient to grant life. I hope you choke.”

  Mila turned away from him. “May you regret this action forever!” She left the assembly as Popo followed after her.

  “Thank you, mother,” Tau whispered before he grabbed the Cup, cut himself, and poured his blood into the Cup, mixing it with the sand and water before he breathed into it.

  He poured the mixture onto the ground, and created the first human beings, the man Za and the woman Wan. They landed not in the forest, hills, or fields, but in the desert Menthar had been exiled to.

  Tau placed them there until such time as he, Mil
a, and Popo could talk about ending Menthar’s punishment without getting upset. The humans would only be a reminder of Tau’s betrayal in Mila’s eyes.

  “Enough of this.” Oaka stood up, interrupting Basha’s story. “I can’t stand it. I won’t die like this.”

  “What’s wrong, Oaka?” Monika asked, opening her eyes as she and the others were in danger of dropping off into a blissful, deadly languor.

  Oaka took out his letter from Sisila and bent down to the ground, concentrating on the letter and its contents. “Come on, girl, help me please.”

  Suddenly the fire in his fingertips ignited the letter in his hands. It flared, giving off light, warmth, and energy that the group so desperately needed.

  The rest of the group huddled close together around Oaka to warm and dry themselves by the fire he sustained throughout the night. He concentrated on the flames long after the letter had burnt up.

  The light emanated from the cave halfway up the mountain, a faint beacon to anyone who looked up. In the morning, the sleet dissipated with sunlight warming the mountainside, and the group emerged to begin their descent.

  Oaka said nothing, though the others thanked him gratefully and quietly. It was just a piece of paper, though the words were the only ones he’d left from Sisila. But the words would remain with him long after the paper was gone.

  The descent would take two days with the fortress of Coe Wina becoming visible to them on the other side of the large valley they’d have to cross to reach it. Coe Wina rose above the valley floor on its motte, a combination of natural hill and man-made bulwarks.

  Though bristled with turrets, walls, a gatehouse, and barricades upon its slope, Coe Wina impressed the group with its sense of safety. The sight lifted their spirits, sped their steps, and made them laugh again coming down, perhaps a little light-headed from hunger, too.

  “Oaka, if we ever go on another trip like this, let’s bring along our family fiddle for your wise fool antics.” Basha said.

  Oaka laughed. “When we’re done, I’m never setting foot on another road for as long as I live!”

  “Say, what are these wise fool antics?” Monika asked as Gnat giggled.

  “Well, it’s based on those old bard songs about the Wise Fool.” Oaka sang, “‘The wise fool, best among men, He walked along the road and sang—’”

  “Til-dee-um-bum!” Basha echoed.

  “That’s the one! I always wanted to be him growing up. Taking advantage of people stronger, faster, richer, and smarter than him, those who’d the advantage until they were tricked by the one wise fool they’d underestimated. He was the greatest for that.” Oaka sighed. “I always hated whenever he got duped, for the sake of ‘doing good for goodness’s sake.’ But he always had the upper hand. He was my hero, not the Knights of Arria.”

  “What sort of things did you do?” Gnat asked.

  “Oh, I juggle and joke about life, nothing much really, but we’d a lot of fun. Basha played the fiddle, unless he wanted to show off his juggling skills to Jawen.” Oaka grinned as Basha grimaced.

  “That’s really nothing much for a monkey like you!” Fato exclaimed. “All you’ve got to do is keep the balls up and mention balnor once or twice!” Oaka nearly chased Fato down the mountainside with Gnat laughing after them, but Basha and Monika let them go.

  “Look, a grove of trees. By tomorrow afternoon, we’ll be down there.” Monika pointed at the valley floor.

  Basha nodded. “Good place to camp.”

  “Or we could cross the valley tomorrow night and reach the castle by dawn.” She seemed to lean towards that idea.

  “While that does sound good, we’ll probably be tired. Plus, we don’t know the terrain well. This valley doesn’t appear completely flat.”

  “Dips and rises, yes, we might fall or trip in the dark. I suppose you’re right, we’ll stop and rest.”

  However, as they stopped to rest on the mountainside that evening, Gnat noticed something towards the northeast edge of the mountainside’s base. “Is that smoke?”

  By the dimming light, they spotted the cloud. “It seems to be, although we’re up so high,” Oaka said.

  “Fato, go check it out,” Monika said.

  The falcon departed, and they sat there, watching the smoke rise in small puffs. “Do you think Fato’ll find them?” Gnat asked.

  “I think so,” Basha said.

  “It doesn’t matter which way we turn, they keep coming after us. What’re we going to do?” Oaka muttered.

  “How far away are they?” Basha asked, ignoring Oaka.

  “Miles away, but it doesn’t matter. By the time we reach the bottom, they’ll be there to greet us. We’ll have to fight them to survive.” Monika said.

  “We could stay up here. Climb higher. Go another way, avoid Coe Wina. We could even keep going now, reach the bottom sooner and race to Coe Wina in the hopes of avoiding Goga and his forces.” Oaka listed their options.

  “They’d chase us down in the valley. They might climb up after us. They’d continue to follow us, no matter which way we go.” Basha listed the results. “We can’t keep going forever, not like they can.”

  Basha’s anger bubbled up inside, furious that he and the others had to deal with this danger. Why couldn’t they live a normal life like most people did, without being chased by Black Wolves and Goga’s men? Please, gods, don’t let them die like this.

  “What can we do?” Gnat whimpered.

  Basha clutched Gnat’s hand. “We’ll make it, you’ll see,” he whispered, not really believing his words.

  Fato returned with the news they’d expected, and they sat in silence. “Let’s go for it,” Oaka said. “Keep climbing down tonight, and try to outrace or fight them tomorrow.”

  “We’re tired and hungry. We’d be spent then,” Monika said.

  “Better than waiting up here.”

  “We’ll try it your way, on our terms,” Basha said. “We probably won’t be fast, but we’ll make some progress. Fato?”

  “Yeah, Basha?” The falcon asked.

  “Can you fly ahead to Coe Wina and tell them we’re coming?”

  “All right.” The bird nodded and flew off.

  They continued on, resting a little as they traveled through the dark, being as careful as they could to avoid tripping and falling. By the time first light approached on the 25th day of Markee, they’d made their way to several hundred feet above the valley floor.

  Suddenly they heard Fato screeching and looked up as the bird passed above them. “They’re here already!”

  “Goga and his forces?” Basha asked as he and the others unsheathed their Swords and sword while Gnat hunkered down.

  “No, look to the grove.”

  They glanced down and spotted a lone figure in red and black uniform begin the climb up the mountainside near the grove Monika had seen yesterday.

  “A guard from Coe Wina!” Gnat cried. “Red and black are definitely not Coe Aela’s colors.”

  “How’d they get here so fast?” Oaka said.

  “It’s thanks to your fire!” Fato shouted. “I’m going to guide him up here.” The falcon swooped down as the others stared at each other, puzzled.

  Chapter 16

  Cacophony Chaos

  Confusion and disorder is a common thing to

  Recognize in the chaos that’s life. Recognizing

  What to do in these situations, when the maelstorm

  Can open up and swallow you whole, is another matter.

  ~ A saying from Pinal

  The distance around the mountain had been longer, but Captain Goga had been certain the group foolishly scaled the mountain and the horrible weather on the upper slopes must’ve slowed them down. He’d been unable to spot the group when his telescope wasn’t powerful enough, but he’d catch them, he only needed to wait.

  He couldn’t proceed until he knew they’d pass by, especially when he might anger Lagotaq by going farther and Doomba’d be upset if he let those youths get awa
y. Goga and his men approached a grove near the mountain’s base, the best place to wait for their descent.

  His telescope was out, scanning the mountainside as usual, but not a trace could be seen. Perhaps he’d missed them? Hava hovered in the background, as he usually did these days.

  A guard ran up, saying some of the horses had wandered off again. “Is it the same trio?” Goga asked, remembering a couple other occasions.

  “Yes, they’ve been trouble ever since we left Coe Aela,” the guard said.

  “I think those horses were requisitioned from the stables.” Hava scribbled down a note in his developing manuscript of Goga’s history. “Might’ve belonged to the group we’re chasing.”

  “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said, Hava,” Goga said.

  “The first?” Hava stopped writing.

  “All right, you’ve said more, but that’s perhaps the best.” Goga turned to the guard. “Spread the word. All men on foot, be alert, and scour the grove. All men on horses follow me.”

  “Are we splitting up?” Hava asked as the guard ran off to deliver the orders.

  “Yes, now give up your horse to a man who needs it more. Stay with the guards on foot!” The captain ordered Hava. “Or better yet, don’t go into the grove at all. We don’t need you to help us!”

  “After I came all this way?”

  “Just do it!” Goga turned to his mounted men, thirteen of them for now with three gone to look for their horses, and the fourteenth about to exchange places with Hava. “Men of Coe Aela—no, you all are my brothers. We ride towards Coe Wina. I don’t know what’s about to happen next, but the chase is almost done. The group’s within our grasp, but it’s dangerous to go after them so close to a stronghold. But we’re not cowardly sheep scum, no, we won’t turn back. We’ll be swift and to the point!”

  Goga rode off with fourteen guards as Hava was left with the remaining twelve guards on foot. But they continued on towards the grove to search, and he was alone, out in the open with quill, book, and paper still in his hands, his packs on the ground.