by E A Bagby
And there was the message. Alana believed Salihandron placed a ghost within, and that the god created the message to prompt us to bring it to the Wind Cave.
She invented quite a narrative for such a vague message. Maybe the council’s concerns over Erikal’s inventions stemmed from Alana’s theory, if they had heard it. Meritus might have told them. He loved stirring up the council.
I wanted to ask Erikal if he knew that the shamans had been talking about him. Was that why he had kept our destination a secret and why we had sneaked off at night? I could ask him why we left in secret to try to get some information. But I would not, both because my father told me not to discuss the council’s concerns and because Erikal had a habit of divining any hidden intent behind questions. They held me in a vise of secrets—him on one side, the council on the other.
Pulling my recorder out of my pocket, I pressed the back button. Erikal seemed to instinctively glance at me and watched as I struggled with the device. It would not go back to the strange message. He stepped over, took the recorder, and pressed the button repeatedly, as if with an asynchronous rhythm. Suddenly, I heard the voice for a second time:
“Can you hear me? This is what we’ve been waiting for. From the ether, you have found me. We are of the other world. Return me through the passage.”
He deactivated the recorder.
“So, you think Salihandron did this?” I said, looking straight at Alana.
“If Erikal didn’t put it there, who else?”
Erikal looked at me, holding a stern expression. I believed neither he nor Meritus had intentionally created it. He had too straightforward a disposition, I reasoned, to maintain such a lie after we had been in mortal danger.
If it were an immortal who created the message, Alana made an intelligent guess as to who. No other being in the pantheon could send a direct, intelligible message across worlds. At least, not that I was aware. But her idea had a major flaw. Salihandron had never sent mortals to do errands, as escorting souls to the other realm was the essence of the god’s existence. To be philosophical about it: As I understood it from my father, the very act made the god come to being and, concurrently, the god coming into being made the act.
“What do we do with the recorder if the Talis aren’t there?” I asked. “Has anyone thought of that?”
Erikal tossed the device back to me. “I have a thousand ideas. But no sense in boring you.”
“Do you have any favorites?”
“My idea,” Meritus said, “is that Salihandron will turn into a giant shadow by the cave, and eat us alive.”
Alana reached out and smacked his side. “Not funny.”
Meritus laughed as though proud to get a reaction. “Could happen. And aside from the eating-us-alive part, it’d be amazing.”
“If the Talis aren’t there, giving the recorder to the cave might be a top choice,” Erikal said. “Assuming this is Salihandron’s work, the answer should come to us.”
I shook my head. I did not understand how two people as intelligent as Erikal and Cleo could get whipped up in a specious, mystical frenzy. I tried to tell myself that at least the journey would provide memorable experiences.
The storm cleared just as day turned into twilight. Red clay cliffs, half-covered in scrub and grasses, banked the river on both sides. Above the cliffs, trees rose like ghosts into the dimming sky, and in the indigo sliver between the trees, stars blinked into existence around thinning clouds. At some point, the rain had stopped.
The vehicle’s Sunfire lights popped on, illuminating the entire area nearby.
“See any people?” I asked the drivers.
Meritus took his hands off the controls and leaned forward. “No, but what have we here?”
Tazers, a sort of small flying lizard, swirled in massive numbers above the Camchaw River. Soon they engulfed us. I had only seen them once before, during the journey that my father and I had taken when I was a child. At the time, he had cautioned me on them.
Many of the arm-length beasts landed and crawled on the windows, squawking and completely covering the view. Erikal and Meritus swatted at the glass to scare them off, to no effect.
Meritus pulled a spear out of a compartment. “If anyone can ground one of these, it’s you.” He tossed me the aluminum weapon.
“You give me too much credit,” I said, trying to sound humble.
“C’mon, try,” he said, and grabbed the door handle.
“They’re terrible game,” I said. “They’re peaceful until you’re a threat.” To my relief, Meritus moved away from the door, and Erikal stopped hitting the windshield.
Perhaps because they garnered no further attention from the cab’s inhabitants, the tempest of flying lizards darted away.
“See, Giels?” Meritus said. “Every time danger comes our way, we easily escape it. If this is not the work of Salihandron, how do you explain it?”
“If I’d not been here, you’d wish you’d fallen into the pool of Ceridia instead of having those beasts tear into you.”
“But you are here,” Alana said.
I rubbed my temple. My friend’s fantasies caused my head to sear. “Alana, Erikal, Meritus, you’re creating this in your minds. Salihandron does not make mortals into messengers.”
Meritus screwed up his face. “But you’re not a shaman, so how could you know?”
I did not know why, exactly, but the childish comment stung.
“Fine, you’re correct, I’m not a shaman, which is to my point that the only thing we can do about the message is to let the council interpret it. The sooner, the better. Erikal, it’s ridiculous to think any of us know what to do. At best, it’s an error of your making. At worst, a horrid omen. Neither option, nor anything in between, justifies you risking our lives far from home without anyone knowing where we are.”
Erikal turned to me. He did not look offended but quizzical. “I don’t make mistakes on the computer, Giels.” He gave me a wink.
I laughed despite myself. Why did I laugh?
He made me feel like I was too severe. I paused and closed my eyes, because getting angry would probably have just annoyed everyone. But I needed the adventure to end. Even at our pace, the cave lay at least another day or two away, with more untold dangers.
I looked down at Cleo and moved a lock of her hair from her sleeping face.
I might have ruined my life for the adventure—for her. And she came because she believed in Erikal.
Missing the rehearsal might have ended my chances of becoming the next Lead Storyteller, but I still had to do Equis recitation, regardless. At that point, I likely needed to have a perfect performance just to prevent being snubbed by the council, and my parents.
I sighed at my irresponsibility. I sighed again at being pulled in by callow friends with overactive imaginations. I could not allow the silly—no, insane—adventure to ruin more for me. Cleo would understand.
“Oh, the Sun,” I said to myself.
Alana looked at me, concerned.
I took a deep breath. “Erikal,” I said. He turned again, this time with a sparkle in his eyes. I hesitated a moment. His look of delight and overall confidence made me want to believe in everything my friends did. I looked away for a moment to regain myself. “I don’t know how much further it is, but I need you to turn around.”
He gave me a broad smile. “Now, my friend? When we’re here?”
Here?
Some distance downstream, the valley gave way to an endless and roiling plane of water. My eyes followed it further and further until they set their sight on the true end of the world, where the sea met the twilight of the darkening sky.
“The Western Sea,” Erikal said, probably in response to an expression of awe on my face.
Erikal nudged Meritus and pointed up the steep embankment on the south side, which rose at least fifty feet above us.
The driving pair pushed the cab up an old trail of switchbacks on the incline.
I whispered in Cleo
’s ear for her to awaken. Her eyes blinked open and she sat up, taking in the view. She exhaled a breath of surprise.
Cresting over the top, we arrived on the fabled Boromount Plateau, named for the giant beasts that lived there. But despite its name, I knew of the place more for the cave.
A grassy plain strewn with dark boulders sloped gently away from us. In the far distance, black creatures hulked on four legs. I scanned for the cave, expecting to see an immense hole in the earth, perhaps with a torrent of magic mist and dust flying about it, or something just as impressive. Erikal pointed to a towering rock outcropping of spires at the mesa’s western edge. “There.”
We approached, floating over the tall grasses. The rock spires straddled the edge of the plateau where it dropped off a cliff to the Western Sea. At the bottom of the outcropping, where it met the plateau, sat a modest black opening.
“Call her the Silver Dare!” Erikal said, breaking our attentive silence. “She’s brought us out here.” He slapped an empty part of the control panel several times. Indeed, no other cab could have taken us there so quickly.
The drivers stopped us some distance from the spires. We fell silent. Never had I seen a landscape highlighted with such intense moonglow—like a sustained twilight. We stepped out into the cool air.
Few grasses grew near the cave, and those that did fluttered with anger. Wind howled from the black aperture. Awe and power infused the noise and colored the entire scene.
The pale light of the moon gods Emba and Hola, as well as blue Dorel, played upon the waves in the distance and dew-soaked grasses around our feet. Our homeland and most of the world between the earth and sky was dense forest, but above us, we saw for the first time a sky unimpeded by trees, glistening with endless stars—the lesser gods and souls of newborn mortals. The place overwhelmed me with feelings of unreality; like I looked through someone else’s eyes. But I did not. We were there—we made it to the most mystical and awesome place, and in hardly any time.
I marvelled at the scene. It was as though magic surrounded us. The gods and souls adorned our nighttime sky, glowing in the velvet robes of Morgoreth, the great veil of the night. The Silver Dare’s wings, made up of curving metal panels of varying sizes like a string of leaves, connected by struts shaped like thin bones, picked up pale glints like the waves and grasses. And my friend’s faces, like the stars, seemed to cull the light of the heavens. It was not only their faces that I saw shine at that moment but their very selves. The grandeur of the night accentuated my awareness of them. I watched their wonder and curiosity and, feeling so overcome, comparisons between them and the stars—the lesser gods—came into my mind unbidden.
But I did not compare my friends to the minor gods casually. Something in me had believed they would change our world. And I sensed that this adventure could be the start of it.
“Makes it seem like we are special,” Meritus said, as if reading my mind, “being here—like we can do anything together . . . go anywhere.”
We all nodded at the comment. Erikal even cracked a smile. We must have all felt the same thing. I felt a surge of inspiration, wondering how only moments ago I could have felt so sour.
With no signs of the Talis tribe and their knowledge of spirits and magic, I handed Erikal the recorder, thinking he would toss it into the cave and then leave. At that moment, I truly believed that if he did, then the device and its message would no longer be our responsibility. And no one, including the council, ever need know of it.
“No, keep it,” he said, with an apparent change of heart.
I felt I did not deserve the item. Perhaps Meritus had been correct. Not having shamanistic talents, such a thing would be beyond my understanding. Again, I gestured for him to take it, but while looking at the night sky, Erikal raised his palm. I did not question him further; I liked the little device despite the strange voice.
Erikal’s gaze fell onto the Silver Dare, where it paused for a moment. “I wonder if Meritus is right about going anywhere. Let’s go.”
I sucked in the strange sea air to have a last taste as we filed back into the cab. I’d done it. I showed Cleo I could be as adventurous as any of them—as adventurous as Erikal. And, bolstered by the moment, I believed I could overcome my absence from the rehearsal. Cleo seemed to think so. I would just work harder for the Equis and do a perfect recitation, as I knew I could. Closing my eyes for a moment, I gave a prayer to Glosa, the goddess of hope, balance, and the air.
I sat and calmly waited for Erikal to turn the vehicle towards home.
But he did not. “Let’s see if she can do it!” Erikal shouted and shoved forward a lever, pushing the vehicle at its fastest speed towards the cave.
My eyes must have grown as round as moons. I looked at the others, who reacted the same. “Oh, hell, Erikal. What’re you doing? It’ll kill us!”
Alana and Meritus held tight to handholds and screamed. Cleo stood there, seemingly frozen.
The black opening grew large in the forward window as though a demon were pushing us into its hungry throat. The wing blades shook, and the Silver Dare’s hull vibrated from the earthen maw’s truculent exhalation.
“Stop!” I shouted. I threw myself hard against the rear wall as if I could escape, but I only watched in horror as Erikal attempted the impossible.
He did the very thing that our tribe’s ancient stories said could not be done and should not be tried.
Our friend forced us into the forbidden mouth leading to the Underworld.
6
The Wind Cave
Where are we?
I could not stop looking through the window.
As I relay this now, I wonder whether my sleep before my friends snuck into my room had in fact been dreamless, or if my dreams had instead been overpowered by the fantasy I stepped into upon waking.
When we first entered the Wind Cave, I shouted to Erikal in protest, but the roar of the wind drowned me out. Only Alana’s screams and Meritus’s hooting rose slightly above the noise.
Those first several minutes, the Wind Cave twisted and branched like a rock maze—as I would expect of a cave. This, alone, had been a sight. But Erikal was not content with that. He fought against the Underworld’s howling breath. At each fork or chamber, he turned towards the passages the thundering air was coming from until we found ourselves in an unfamiliar world.
We rounded a final lightless corner and the view opened up. Suddenly, the rocky, noisy cave gave way to someplace else. Although we still glided underground, it was through a cave unlike any I could have dreamt of.
So overwhelmed, I disconnected from my body. Only my eyes and cerebral sensations remained, and nothing else—emotions, the Equis, home. A strange impression entered my mind: that I had never before opened my eyes, and yet was slipping ever deeper into an illusory state.
The sound of raging wind had gone, entirely, when we entered the colossal, grey, endless round tunnel. The place had such a scale that the Silver Dare must have looked like a small dragonfly in an infinite corridor.
My four friends fell as silent as I. The tapping of controls and my heart pounding were the only sounds. Were we all waiting to awaken from the dream?
In the grey place, my friends’ bright, colorful garments of swirling geometries shouted at me for attention. What an odd thing for me to notice.
What has Erikal done? Is this happening?
Erikal stood tall at the controls, assisted by Meritus. Cleo had stumbled, perhaps from shock, onto a soaked pillow next to Alana. I sat across from them. I wanted to ask her if she felt well, but the words would not come.
“I’m able to center the cab,” Erikal said to Meritus, breaking the silence. My head automatically spun towards them with the urgency of a lizard being stalked. Although I did not feel fear in my nerves, I must have been on extreme alert. “It’s stable,” he added, “but I needed to place the wings in an up position.”
Cleo looked over at me briefly. Shock had washed over her face as I imagi
ne it did mine, but something else pulled at her soft features. Awe? Her eyes meandered to the view outside. My eyes followed hers.
Through the forward windows, the cave extended perfectly straight ahead to an endless vanishing point. Every surface had a planar, computer-designed appearance, in an unvarying grey color.
The unnaturally smooth passage looked like a cobweb. But that was an illusion of perspective due to the repeating structural rings; the further rings seemed smaller. Beams that ran parallel with the tunnel completed the weblike appearance.
Two broad and featureless platforms ran the length of the cave on the lower left and right.
Our current height above the tunnel floor, and our speed, may have rivaled the seldom-seen kites, beasts that soared high above the trees at an astounding clip. Theirs was an altitude and pace impossible for a cab to match by far—at least, ordinarily.
But the dim lighting outside had an odd visual effect, making it difficult for me to grasp the size of the place, other than it was immense. The light had no shadows or visible source.
The walls and the beams looked to have been formed from one piece. They had no joints or seams, further distorting any sense of scale. Mortals could not create any individual component larger than our producers. What magnitude of machine made the cave?
“Where are we?” Alana said, clawing at her cheeks. “Why are we here?” My sentiments.
But Erikal and Meritus seemed too focused on driving to respond, or to panic. Thanks to their apparent calm, I managed to keep myself from going into hysterics. But I felt madness tapping on the glass.
The gods created this. This is the passage to the Underworld.
“Could we be floating so high because we’re underground?” Meritus asked. “Floating forces come from the ground, after all.”
“Good thought,” Erikal said, “but that doesn’t explain why I can’t do a simple slowdown.”
“A hard stop?” Meritus asked.
“No, we shouldn’t try that . . . give me a moment.” Erikal casually handled the various levers, buttons, and dials.