by Sean Golden
Lirak sniffed back his tears. “Thank you Asok, but if that is true, then Kodul died because I defied Kathoias and pushed on when She told me not to. He died because I was a fool.”
There was another long silence that was finally broken by Traze.
“Lirak, I know very little about spirit dreams or what Kodul’s plans were for you. But I can tell you this. We are all fools from time to time. But it is the wise man that learns from his foolishness. You can’t change what happened, but you can learn and grow from the lesson. Nobody blames you for Kodul’s passing, and you should not blame yourself. If things happened as you believe they did, then you must learn what you can from the dream and grow from it. We thank you for coming to us with this dream.”
Lirak nodded and tried to stop the flow of his tears.
“That is enough for now Lirak,” Chutan quietly said. “Whatever else you may feel, please know this. Kodul believed in you Lirak. More than you know. I don’t understand spirit dreams, but I do know this. If the dreams are real, I have no doubt Kodul would have fought for you with all he had. Now go and rest and finish your own healing.”
The warm spring sun felt good on Lirak’s back as he flipped the blade over and over, watching the sunlight catch the multicolored bands deep inside the translucent stone.
“Is it done?” Mayrie asked. “It’s beautiful Lirak. I’ve never seen a blade like it.”
“Yes, it’s been done for a while really, I just sort of wish it wasn’t for some reason,” Lirak replied.
“You’re never satisfied.” Mayrie laughed.
“Well, let’s go show it to Bok, it’s time I got back to work anyway.” Lirak stood and stretched in the sun, feeling the tightness of scar tissue on his back. But there was no longer any pain, just a vague sense of discomfort when he moved in certain ways.
As Lirak went inside the small hut to put on his shirt, Jerok and Soonya arrived at the hut with a hunk of venison and some cheese. Lirak quickly donned his shirt and grabbed his belt and pouches to head back outside. He could sense the tension between Mayrie and Jerok.
“Hi Mayrie.” Soonya said. “It’s good to see you cheering Lirak up. I’m so glad you two are finally together.”
“Yeah, it’s great,” Jerok growled.
“Lirak is finished with his blade,” Mayrie said brightly, ignoring Jerok’s tone. “We’re going to show it to Bok.”
“Really?” Jerok asked, “It’s done?”
Lirak stepped outside. “Yep. All done, take a look.” He handed the blade to Jerok, who took it carefully and held it up to see the light play on the multicolored veins within.
“Wow Lirak, this is… great!” Jerok’s appreciation seemed genuine.
“I think it’s the most beautiful blade in the village,” Mayrie beamed.
“I wish I had one like it,” Jerok agreed.
“If I can find another stone to match, I’ll make you one,” Lirak promised, as Jerok gingerly handed the blade back to Lirak.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Jerok said, as he and Soonya went into the hut.
Lirak and Mayrie walked quietly through the village. A few villagers turned away and one used Rysdun’s ward as they walked by. Mayrie lifted her chin in defiance.
“You know, that’s probably the most pleasant conversation I’ve had with Jerok in many days,” Lirak said.
“Jerok is struggling with everything,” Mayrie said. “He’s not as strong as you think.”
Lirak’s eyes widened in surprise. “What do you mean? Jerok is like a bear. He’s almost as strong as Gawn.”
“There is more to strength than muscles, Lirak,” Mayrie said. “Kodul was strong. Your mother is strong. You are strong. Jerok knows you are stronger than him. It eats him up.”
Lirak said nothing, but looked long at Mayrie as they walked. He felt something inside of her had changed. Her mouth was set more firmly, her stride more purposeful. She silently reached out and took his hand in defiance of the stares of some villagers they passed. For the first time he found himself seeing Mayrie not as a girl, or a friend, but as a proud young woman who was not afraid to face the world.
“You have argued with Jerok,” Lirak stated.
Mayrie nodded abruptly, her lips tightened into a thin line, but she said nothing.
Bok was sitting outside his hut, working on a stone hammer as they walked up.
“Hey Lirak,” Bok said, “glad you’re up and around. When are you coming back to work?”
“I’m ready now.” Lirak laughed. “But first, you wanted to see what I did with your favorite stone, so here it is.” Lirak held out the blade and Bok put down his tools and took the blade into his large scarred and misshapen hands. He rubbed his thumb along the edges, held it up to the sun and watched the light play through it then finally balanced it on his finger to find its balance point.
“Well done Lirak,” Bok finally said. “I couldn’t do better myself. In fact,” Bok winked, “I don’t know if I could have done as well. This is a fine blade.”
Lirak felt a sense of pride surge through him. “Thank you for the stone Bok, it’s the most beautiful stone I’ve ever seen. If you ever find another one, I promised to make a matching blade for Jerok.
“I’ll keep an eye out for one Lirak, but I doubt I’ll find another to match,” he paused. “Now you need to put a hilt on it and stop staring at it, and start using it. Tools are for using, not for admiring.”
Returning to his hut after walking Mayrie home, Lirak finally attached the blade to the antler and oak hilt he had made, using fine sinew lashing and a bit of melted tree sap. After allowing the sap to dry, Lirak slid the finally completed blade into the leather sheath on his belt. He had a strange feeling of completeness as he did so.
The Ko’Teraka or Day of Tasking finally came, the day a boy’s Dimeni task was determined by the elders. Jerok’s task the previous year had been to hunt and bring back alone a great river-pig. Such a task was no problem for Jerok, and he had completed his task in three days. Lirak wished his own life were as simple. He had grown and filled out a bit more over the winter, but was still not as wide nor as tall as Jerok.
A great bonfire again lit the village green. There were five chairs arranged in front of the elders’ hut. Lirak sat at the far end of the row of chairs, and knew that meant he would be last to receive his Dimeni task. Paonil the woodcutter’s son was tasked with finding a suitable center pole for a new hut that was needed for a newly wedded couple. The center pole according to Dwon tradition was the hut’s spiritual center and as such was cut from an ash tree sapling, since ash was thought to be spiritually pure. Searching for such a sapling might take days, and if he brought one back that was unsuitable, the couple could not wed until one was found.
Three more times a boy of seventeen summers came forth and received his task. Then it was Lirak’s turn, and a hush filled the village green. Chutan paused and bowed his head for a long moment. The villagers assembled around the chairs grew quiet. This was unusual, and anything unusual bothered the villagers. Then Chutan finally beckoned to Lirak, who came forward.”
“I am Lirak, totem of Eagle,” he said. A hushed whispering sound came from the villagers as he said “Eagle”.
“Lirak, Totem of Eagle, are you ready for your task to be named?” Chutan asked.
Lirak responded, “I am ready.” Chutan stood silent; the other elders began to murmur among themselves. One began to step forward, and this seemed to urge Chutan on.
“Lirak, totem of Eagle, your task is to travel over the Gap, into the far valley and return with new firestones.”
Lirak nodded, now the great secret was exposed. He heard a murmur of surprise from the villagers and the sharp indrawn breath of his mother.
“So it is done.” He heard Soonya’s resignation. “The son is to follow his father.”
“Soonya, you know we have no choice.” Asok spoke from the shadows. “You know this task has been done before. And will be done again. Lirak’s task has
been chosen and accepted.”
“It will be done,” Lirak said simply.
“Good, you’ll come to the elders’ hut tomorrow and we will make our plans.” His eyes softened and he lowered his voice. “This task is dangerous, but you are young and brave. You’ll return with the stones.”
The “feast” was more like a wake. The villagers were subdued, whispering to one another. Lirak sat quietly in the chair until his mother came.
“Let’s go home,” she said, and they ignored the stares and whispers of the villagers and walked to their hut.
Mayrie was there. She was shaking and she grabbed Lirak and pulled him to her. Lirak felt her warm body against his.
“Lirak, you don’t have to do this,” she said.
“Kodul gave me this task,” he said. “He said Kathoias had demanded it.” He gently took Mayrie’s chin in his fingers and looked into her eyes. “This is what it means to be god-touched, Mayrie. And this is just the beginning.”
“You can’t live as the gods’ plaything!” she hissed. “I want you to be with me!”
“I don’t have a choice, Mayrie,” he said. “My dreams showed me this task long before the elders did.”
“Shut up Lirak!” She hit him in the chest, hard. “Shut up! Shut up!” She punctuated each word with a solid blow to Lirak’s chest. It hurt. Then she leaned against him and sobbed. Lirak felt the softness of her, the salty smell of her tears, and the smoothness of her cheek where it lay against his. He put his arms around her and pulled her close. His mother went inside the hut without a word.
“I’ll come back Mayrie,” he said. “My dreams tell me that my destiny is beyond this task.”
“Don’t get killed Lirak”, she mumbled against his neck. “I couldn’t bear it.”
“I won’t Mayrie, I won’t,” he said.
They held each other for a few more moments, until they realized Jerok was standing behind Lirak. Mayrie abruptly pulled back and looked at Lirak. “I’ll see you before you go,” she said.
“I’ll look for you,” Lirak said as she turned and ran into the night.
Jerok watched her go with a frown, and then turned to Lirak. “I’ll go with you,” he said.
“You can’t Jerok, it’s not allowed.”
“They won’t know,” he said, but he hung his head as he said it.
“The Gap is many days away,” Lirak said. “You can’t be gone that long without people knowing you’ve gone with me. Besides, Kathoias will know.” He tried to smile, but the thought actually scared him.
Jerok looked at him and reached out to clasp his arm, palm to elbow in the manner of the Dwon when showing respect. “Be careful Lirak,” he said. “Watch your back, and don’t make your camps in the open. You are the ghost in the forest, be the ghost in the valley.”
Lirak didn’t sleep well that night. He dreamed of great huts floating on the river, and men who looked like insects coming out of the huts and streaming into the forest. He dreamed of fires and fighting. And he dreamed of flying like an eagle over a burning, broken forest.
The next morning Lirak carefully prepared his things. Packing all his best arrows in his leather quiver, and extra arrowheads in his belt pouch, he slung the new bow Patrik had made for him on his shoulder. He filled his pack with smoked meats and cheese and tied an extra water skin on his belt. Finally he slid his new knife into its sheath, feeling a sense of dark foreboding as the hilt settled against his hip. Sighing, he gave Soonya a final hug and then walked to the elders’ hut.
“Sit down Lirak,” Chutan said. Lirak sat on a small stool; Chutan sat in a chair next to the hut’s center pole. Again Sampt’s chair was empty.
“There is more to this journey than you know,” he began. “Firestones are the source of Dwon magic and power. We need them for the ceremonial fires.” He handed Lirak a rough, knobby stone with red and yellow veins winding through a gray crystal. It was about the size and proportions of his fist. “This is a small one, you should find larger ones to bring back.” Lirak examined it closely for a few moments and then handed it back to Chutan.
Chutan gave him a thick-walled leather sack. “Use this to carry them. They’re heavy, and you’ll find that this will be all you want to carry. These will last long enough that I won’t have to send another boy into the valley, I am thankful for that.” He paused as Lirak squeezed the rolled up sack into his pack.
“It’s a long journey to the Gap,” Chutan said. “You will first travel up the Fedon River by canoe until you reach the point the river turns north. You will need to follow the river until you are due east from the Gap. From there you will have several days walk. The climb will be easy, but tiring. You’ll find it hard to breathe at the top of the Gap, and it will be cold. You’ll need to get down the other side quickly; you can’t camp on the top of the Gap. In the valley beyond you’ll find a river, which you must cross. A short march north of the Gap there is a great fall of water from the west. The firestones are found in a crack in the rock wall that blocks the west side of the valley a longer march north of the waterfall. You’ll need to take a torch inside the crack. Go only deep enough to find the firestones, fill the bag as quickly as possible, and then return.”
Lirak sat for a moment, and then said, “You said others had died doing this. How many others?”
“Don’t dwell on such things,” Traze said. “We have confidence in you, and faith in Kathoias. You will return.”
“Now you must go,” Chutan said. “You must return before the Ko’Dimen.”
Lirak left the elders’ hut and went to say his goodbyes. To his surprise, most of the village was there on the green to wish him luck, or perhaps to see him to his doom. He didn’t see Mayrie. He looked to the west to the great wall of the Haguille Mountains that were the western edge of the Dwon world. Rugged snow-capped peaks reared high into the sky. In one spot, almost directly to the west, there was a deep and wide gap between the peaks, although from here it looked small and thin. That was the Gap.
“Well, at least I won’t get lost,” he said to Gawn, as Gawn gripped his elbow.
“If you’re not back in time, I’ll come and find you,” Jerok said.
Soonya’s face was stricken and tear-stained. She hugged Lirak fiercely. “Be careful,” she said, “the valley has dangers you cannot expect.”
Lirak finally made his way out of the village green and headed to the river where a canoe was waiting. He saw a bright spot of red against the trees. Mayrie was waiting for him. He did his best to look brave and happy. When he reached Mayrie she simply ran to him and threw her arms around him.
“Mayrie…,” he began.
“Shut up Lirak,” she said. “Don’t you dare say a word. Just hold me.”
It seemed that they held each other forever; Lirak could feel wetness from Mayrie’s tears on his shoulder. He finally gently pushed her back.
“I have to go,” he said.
“I know,” she said.
“I’ll be back before the ceremony.”
“You’d better be,” she said. Then she suddenly pulled him to her and kissed him hard on the lips. She pulled him against her so that he could feel every curve of her body. Her mouth and tongue were insistent and intoxicating. Lirak’s entire body tingled, and he felt his body eagerly return the kiss. He eased his right hand down her back, from her neck down to the swell of her hips. Her kissing became more insistent, the unspoken promises in her lips and tongue more exciting, and Lirak heard a low moan escape her lips. Finally he pushed her gently back again. Her eyelids were halfway closed, and her fingers pulled at his arms, but she stepped back.
“Now you have something to come back for,” she said, and turned and walked away. Lirak’s eyes followed her every step all the way back to the village. She walked right through the watching villagers without pausing, her head high and her flaming hair bouncing as she walked. She never once turned around.
The Gap
The Seven are everywhere and nowhere. They are the air
and the dirt beneath our feet. They know the flight of every bird, the growth of every tree and the path of every trail in the forest. The earth quakes when they speak, the skies tremble when they breathe.
– Dwon oral tradition.
Sharp stones pressed through Lirak’s deerskin moccasins, leaving his feet sore and bruised. His calves ached from steady upward climbing. Sweat matted his dark hair as he worked his way up the steep rocky slope. Squinting against the harsh sunlight, his thin features contorted into a grimace as he looked up the slope to the top of the ridge, which seemed to never get any closer in spite of his efforts.
But looking back down showed that he had made substantial progress up the slope. Below him rocks and boulders stretched out for several hundred feet before they became dotted with scrubby trees that struggled to survive atop the high mountain slopes. Down lower the trees grew higher and merged into the deep forest which stretched away to the east before being hidden by a thickening mist swirling as far as he could see. Somewhere below that mist, deep in the forest, were his home and the village he had left many days earlier. First were the long days of paddling his canoe against the Fedon River current, ducking under trees during the frequent afternoon thundershowers. Then after leaving the river there had been days of hiking through the forest until the forest ended against a rising sea of hills which led eventually to the Gap.
Lirak had to work to breathe in the strangely thin air. The sounds here were different too, thin and sharp, as if sound itself did not like the height. He turned again, facing back into the west where the sun was descending toward the distant, snowy mountains. Great craggy peaks towered on his right and left, where they were capped with snow, even in the heat of early summer. His ragged breathing eased and he moved forward again. His feet doggedly forced his body up the slope as his thoughts turned inward. Jerok’s Ko’Teraka seemed so simple now, compared to his own. Images of cold refreshing water came unbidden to his mind, and he hoped the elders were right about the river on the other side. His remaining water skin felt light already, and he again fought back the desire to take a long, soothing drink.