They watched the car whisper by overhead, shameless pride displayed across his father's weathered face, Steffor, grimed head to toe and reeking, content with the day but restless in the spirit.
"Why did you and mother choose to settle Maseriah?" Steffor asked as he turned his attention back toward the trail.
"Maseriah chose us, not the other way around." The ardent glint in his father's eyes, so familiar whenever he spoke of higher powers, stifled Steffor's chortle at the thought of a place having the ability to choose anything, much less a Citizen. Instead, he nodded as if understanding and arched his brow with respect, imploring his father to elaborate.
Taking a long moment to ensure his son devoted all his attention to what he said next, his father continued his story. "Your mother and I had been partnered for less than a year. We were contributing as novice Shifters, our raw skills relegated to the mundane but important: I, maintenance of Razum's plethora of decks, stairways and ramps; your mother, her budding gift for food put to use as preservative Shifter at the Market. We were active, honing our craft and staying patient. When the call of the Provider came, we were prepared to follow without hesitation."
"The sign came from the Mysticnet when our minds were flooded with the images of a young Guardian named Maseriah, safely returning home after being lost and presumed dead for over six months. His disappearance was big news and his return even bigger. Your mother and I were instantly mesmerized by his tale."
"Maseriah had discovered an uncharted branch while surveying the Constunkeen prairie bough, the very branch we travel today." His father spread his arms wide, turning side to side, to emphasize the novelty. "The branch had avoided detection over the years due to how it jutted strait down before spreading outward to mingle just below the bifurcated branches located at the bough's end. His keen Guardian eye followed the camouflaged branch for miles and was elated to discover a thriving complex of unique flora. Being the young and confident Guardian he was, and a fine Dive competitor to boot, Maseriah chose his path and leaped toward history."
"Looking back at it, he admits to not giving much thought to how he would return. The impulse to explore had overwhelmed him and he was now acting on instinct. Nor did he give much thought to the perilous act of getting down to the secluded branch." By the tone of his voice and spark in his eye, Steffor sensed his father admired the young Guardian's temerity. "Maseriah's point of entry was a low cliff found midway in the expansive fork and the path he chose was no less intricate or harrowing than a championship dive chute."
"Starting with a thousand foot free fall into a copse of stalks and leaves, Maseriah punched his way through leaf and stem, forming a Source sphere at the last second on a stalk not a half mile from where we stand, no wider then you are long." Steffor had seen the images and from his young point of view, the success of Maseriah's dive was nothing short of a miracle.
"Safely on the branch, Maseriah set to exploring. True, our branch displayed many unique and unseen growth patterns and foliage but after several days, fear began to grip the young Guardian as his search for food, water and a means to return to the prairie bough came up short. By the twenty-eighth day, exhausted, his provisions gone for over a week, Maseriah lay sprawled on his stomach, lost in the catacomb of stalks and began to prepare himself to join the Provider."
Somaht, their village Mystic, had shown this story to Steffor dozens of times, both with and separate of Maseriah's in-person narration. His father knew this, sitting in on most of the communal recitations, and yet told the story as if for the first time. Out of respect and partially because he had learned to be patient whenever he asked his father a question, he chose not to point out this obvious fact.
He genuinely wanted to know why his parents chose to live at the end of the Provider's longest and most dangerous prairie bough, so far from the modern conveniences of Razum City. As his father went on with his version of history, Steffor found himself entranced by his diction and the palpable emotion surrounding the story; aspects of the story neither Mystic, nor the man who experienced the events first hand, could evoke.
Mopping his brow with the back of his hand and taking a long drought from the water gourd before passing it over to Steffor, his father continued his story with a renewed gusto. "It was at this moment, his soul closer to the afterlife then the physical, that a rogue kuwani fruit, hidden by its protective leaves, fell from above and landed directly on the back of Maseriah's head."
Recorded in the Deeds and believed by all as a true miracle, no one more than the Shifters who harvested the fruit appreciated this understatement. No person has ever witnessed the kuwani fruit separate from its stalk without outside intervention since that miraculous day. The fruit is so stubborn and determined to stay connected to the Provider that it will not only die on the vine but also refuse to fall until the next season's fruit appears, at which point it dissipates into an almost invisible sheen and floats away.
"Maseriah tore into the meaty flesh and gorged on its sweet nectar. As we know today, the kuwani's abundant nutrients quickly brought him back to life." The climax of the story over, his father's spell began to fade. Steffor only half listened to rest of the story of how Maseriah discovered the small stalk growing just high enough to risk leaping out and up to a small twig growing from Constunkeen's end. The broadcast of his story hit Mysticnet the moment he had safely crossed the prairie and came into range of a Mystic. Sharing the remaining portion of his discovery with The Four, the Provider's newest boomtown was born soon after.
All history he had learned since joining the whole as a small child. Why his parents chose to be the first settlers of Maseriah was what his young mind wanted to know. A question the Deeds could not answer yet an answer certain to shed more insight than the most important legend recorded.
Sensing his son losing interest, or simply feeling he could now answer the original question, the change of his father's tone brought his attention back around. "Maseriah's experience, as is the case with every heroic act by a Guardian recorded in the Deeds, was inspirational to both me and your mother but it was not the reason we felt compelled to join the expedition and establish the settlement of Maseriah."
"Similar to how most other estuary villages were founded, the village of Maseriah was built at the very edge of a prairie bough." Steffor sighed with impatience as his father rambled on with his didactic lecture. "Your mother and I, both being born and raised in Razum City, had never traveled any bough outside of Razum's protected confines. We knew about prairie boughs from the Mysticnet but gave the wilderness little thought until that moment we witnessed Maseriah's journey. After that, all idle and active time was filled with images of the expansive bough, varying according to its altitude and distance from Trunk, exploring all its rich biomes of mosses, giant lichens, fern stands, wild berry bushes and exotic creatures, both beautiful and terrifying to behold."
"It is written the ends of the prairie bough beckon the harvest Shifter: the Citizen who risks his life to reap the Provider's abundant bounty for others; one with an appetite for adventure and connection with nature the city can never fulfill. Up to that point, I never imagined in this life I was a man cut from such a hearty swath. Maseriah's return changed that view forever."
"How did you know without doubt?" Steffor inquired, barely containing his skepticism. "The prairie bough is full of dangers challenging the strongest Guardian. You or mother could have been killed a thousand different ways!" The thought of losing either of them, regardless of the fact they had safely completed the trek over a century ago, stirred emotions he had made a practice of burying deep.
"Indeed, the journey calling us was very perilous. I had little idea of what to expect and there were many times both during the journey and in the early years of settling the village that I questioned my decision. Almost every day, I fought the impulse to run back to the perceived safety of the city." His father affirming his fears only added to his confusion. "One hundred and fifty two set out to retrace Mase
riah's path and establish a new home. Outside of Somaht and Maseriah, the rest of us were young Shifters all drawn by the same, undeniable force to make the trek. It would be several years before a traveling Healer would follow."
With the speed of a summer storm, darkness swept across his father's face, shrouding his wooly beard, normally a soft frame for his ever-present smile, with furtive expression. "Eighty six rejoined the Provider to start anew before our journey was complete. The giaker was the first to claim many of us but was far from the worst beast to stalk us," he recalled, shoulders hunched defensively as he scanned the branch's shadowed wilderness. His father never looked more brave or vulnerable in that moment.
The Deeds recorded the adventures of both Maseriah's discovery of the kuwani and that of the first settlers' ensuing journey. Steffor had accessed Somaht for the images many times over which had strengthened his admiration of his parents, Maseriah, friends and family alike. His young mind could still not comprehend how and why his parents did what they did but the concept of a place choosing his parents did not feel so silly anymore.
In classic form, his father was taking the long stem to answer his question. Normally, by the time he got there, Steffor had learned something but often forgot the original question that got them on the path to begin with. He was determined to stay on track this time. Something deep inside told him he was on the cusp of enlightenment.
"A week after leaving the Trunk and climbing up Constunkeen's thick jungle floor, we had traveled less than two miles for the effort. With another ten miles of steady climbing through the congested vegetation before reaching the bough's level plains above, we soon learned how legend, and the rare images recorded by the Deeds, gave little justice to the six legged giaker."
"Masters of stealth, a breed of animal derived equally from mammal and reptile, the giaker can lay in hiding for days without moving a hair. Every bend in our trail, every grove of innocent appearing bushes, inviting moss patch or tangled vine tunnel was a threat for a giaker attack. Maseriah ferreted out most, bravely charging into any telltale sign of their wicked traps. He had become proficient in both identifying their liars and dispatching of the creature with powerful punches of the Source, stunning the beast and launching them far away in the same motion."
"But the giaker had survived before the record of time for a reason. For the dozens of attacks Maseriah thwarted, twenty-seven managed to slip his detection. Twenty-seven died by the giaker's viper fast strike, viscous razor sharp teeth and hooked claws. Too many had to witness a friend or loved one vanish in a blink, the splatter of blood on the surrounding foliage and frantic sounds of struggle as the beast dragged their victims through the underbrush the last to see or hear of them."
"It took us over a month to clear the jungle. By that time, we were a tight knit group committed to a common cause and determined to go forward. At first, our spirits rose once we cleared the jungle and gazed upon the vast prairie below. We had faced our fears and survived. Soon we would be feasting on the kuwani and building our new home. Or so we thought. Maseriah was quick to temper our optimisms, reminding us we had yet to face the prairie bough's most feared denizen, the zapture."
"Traveling alone the first time, well camouflaged by his Guardian garments, armed with powers of both speed and defense, Maseriah managed to avoid the creature with relative ease. Reminded of our limited skills when it came to both, the open prairie for as far as the eye could see in every direction quickly sobered our excitement."
In recent months, Steffor finally mustered the courage to access images of the zapture and his dreams had been plagued with the creature since. With no natural predators, the zapture thrived on the prairie bough. Adult treledant, staple prey of the zapture, were known to kill hatchings when stumbling onto a nest or trample adults caught in a stampede but the giant omnivore killed out of self-preservation, not for food. The bulk of information about the nocturnal zapture stored in the Mysticnet archives came from ultraviolet images recorded by Guardians. These sanitized, but nonetheless gruesome images normally depicted a pride of the bipedal, winged beasts ripping apart and fighting over the barely distinguished body of a treledant or giant sloth.
Steffor tensed up thinking about the zapture. He wanted to turn away, as if the creature were right in front of him, and ask his father to stop, to the point of lying about losing interest. Instead, spellbound by the moment, having gone too far to turn back now, he grabbed his father's hand and braced for the worst yet to come.
"Traveling by day and hiding as best we could by night, twenty two days passed without incident. Our trek was almost halfway complete and despite our vigilant paranoia, we had started to become enchanted by the prairie's open sky, lush moss land and diverse animal life."
"Many times we passed within shifting distance of the enormous treledant herds. Every camp was infested with fury little kosts by nights end. We soon lost track of all the rare birds we saw, heard of but rarely seen in the city. But not once had we seen the zapture. We had all heard their blood curdling, high-pitched squawk late in the evening far off in the distant evening air and more than once discovered the remnants of their latest kill. Still, the bough was so massive, teaming with abundant, natural prey, we started to believe, thinking to ourselves or whispering to those closest, 'maybe we can make it without ever seeing one'."
"What none of us considered was difficultly and danger associated with killing an adult treledant, even for a large pride of zapture. We learned this lesson the day we got our first up close look at zapture. Actually, it was three. The smell of their rotting flesh hit us a half a mile before we saw them. They lay in the middle of the trail we had been following created by one of the many treledant herds. Covered with thick scales, the bodies remained, for the most part, intact. But flesh and organs had been mashed so violently that portions of their bones penetrated the bough's smooth bark."
"Upright, squat legs were fitted with oversized talons that looked more suited for grabbing and tearing prey then for walking. Three arms projected from the creature's muscular torso, the two double-jointed appendages protruding from the sides were long, double-edged claws ending with a sharp point while the third, growing from its chest, appeared to be a shorter but more maneuverable version of its legs. Sprouting from taut back sinew were leathery wings spanning over thirty feet."
"Being completely incongruous with the rest of the body, it was the zapture's head we found most disturbing. Supported by a long neck, a gaping maw large enough to swallow a man whole, housing row after row of fist size teeth, made up the better part of the massive, cone shaped skull; beady eyes set close to the broad mouth on each side before tapering off to a pointed crest of bone. Lifting the mangled skull for closer inspection, its lightness was startling compared to its size. We would soon experience firsthand its lethal legerity."
"After that, it was not difficult for any of us to imagine how man, while not a staple part their diet, would be a welcome abatement for the zapture. Once again, remaining undetected became our primary objective. Another five days would pass without incident. Up to that point, Maseriah managed to scout out ideal campsites to conceal our presence: a stand of tall ferns, a grove of lichens or berry bushes sufficed. But on the sixth day after our discovery of the mangled zaptures, our luck had run out."
"As the sun began to set, we stood surrounded by fields of knee high moss as far as the eye could see in every direction. Maseriah had gone off ahead in one last, desperate attempt to find shelter. As dusk arrived, the zapture's squawk haunted the air. Materializing from thin air, breathing as if he had sprinted for the last hour, Maseriah ordered us to follow.
"Exhausted, famished and scared, we finally reached our campsite for the night, the east side of an elevated knot pond. The plentiful knot ponds and lakes of the prairie typically have a rounded edge no higher than a couple of feet. The one we chose for our camp that night was a good seven feet high with a tapered rim protruding outward another three to four feet. Not ideal shelte
r but at least it provided some type of defense from aerial attack."
Feeling the need for the Guardian's presence, Steffor searched for Maseriah's comforting figure but the canopy above and below and the trail in every direction all came up empty. It was then that he remembered their Guardian had left earlier to assist Teilken back to the village after he sustained a head injury from a high fall.
Steffor's fear abated slightly as the canopy above cleared and revealed the branch's end, a shifted stairway leading up and to the west, leading to the bough' forked end and the outskirts of Maseriah village.
Created by his father and several other original settlers over a century ago, the stairway was a living testament to the hardships the people of Maseriah overcame. Steffor stepped onto the first step and, as he always did, read the passage from the Deeds etched on every step, the verse epitomizing the life of a harvest Shifter: The Citizen who wakes before the sun and labors after it sleeps, truly knows the heart of the Provider.
Pursued by its shadow moving up the steps before them, the freight car trudged ahead on haulage vines running parallel to the stairway. Looking upwards, Steffor followed the length of Constunkeen's colossal underside toward the west, where he knew the bough eventually grew into the Trunk. A myriad of images pulled from the Mysticnet showed him so and though he had never traveled the vast prairie bough to see firsthand, he had no problem in believing in its existence.
Conversely, as his eyes traveled along the prairie bough's endless stretch of underbelly, its girth obscuring a third of the night sky, his young mind refused to believe the zapture existed, lurking this very night in search of prey. He understood all of the Provider's creatures served a purpose but the zapture's was a mystery his young mind could not comprehend.
A few steps into the ascent, comforting lights emanating from the village shined over the staircase horizon to break the darkness above. Close to the top, Maseriah's chiseled form, seen and welcomed by all, descended toward them, the shepherd on his way to see his flock safely home. Soothed by the site of his hero, Steffor found the courage to listen to the final moments of his father's tale.
Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy, Volume One) Page 14