The Days of Peleg

by Jon Saboe

  Soon Serug arrived at his first landing and it was Peleg’s turn. He wrapped the rope as Untash had instructed, and adjusted his waist-pack. Slowly he made his way up the face. He didn’t have a word for it, but he had enough experience with Zini to know that looking down would make him very dizzy. Perhaps if other men came forward and admitted this nauseous, spinning feeling, there would be a word for it someday.

  Finally he arrived at the spot where Serug was standing. How could Untash have called this a landing zone? There was barely room for two—and no room for Thaxad.

  “Come on, Serug!” shouted Untash from above. The second rope was hanging down past Serug, and he wrapped himself and began his second ascent.

  Eventually Thaxad arrived and began to pull the rope up. He coiled it carefully and started to place it over Peleg’s shoulder. When they realized it would interfere with his pack—and his own climb, he tied the end to Peleg’s feet.

  “Just get this to Untash,” he said. He looked into Peleg’s eyes and almost smiled. “Are you going to be all right, Chief Peleg?” he asked.

  “I suppose,” Peleg nodded. “This is going to be a lot higher than Zini ever went.”

  “That’s because you always keep her tied down.”

  Peleg arrived at the next landing where Untash and Serug were waiting for the rope. Again, there was only room for two, and when Untash realized that it was attached to Peleg’s ankle, he climbed around, somehow untied it and attached it to his own waist, and started out for the third landing.

  They repeated this cycle several times until late in the morning they realized they were over half of the way to the top.

  At this point, Serug shouted up to Untash. “We need to stop and get something to eat!”

  Untash grinned and called back. “I know just the place!”

  With that, he scampered toward his next landing spot, but this time it was some distance diagonally over to the left. He had spotted a larger opening which could easily accommodate all four of them. When he arrived, he climbed inside and quickly tied the rope to a large rock outcropping inside the cave.

  “I can’t reach the rope!” Serug called from below. The dangling rope was hanging down past Serug, but it was several meters away from the small ledge where he was resting since it hung down directly below the cave opening above.

  Untash peered over the edge.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “I’ll be right there.”

  He wrapped the rope around himself and began his foot-bounce down the side. When he reached the end of the rope, he fastened himself to the mountainside and placed the end of the rope in his teeth. He crawled sideways in a spider-fashion over to Serug who took the rope from his mouth.

  “Tie this end down to the same tree. There’s plenty of extra rope here, so just wrap it around yourself like normal. You just have to use your feet and climb diagonally.”

  Untash looked over at Peleg who was standing with his eyes closed and spoke to him from his perch on the side.

  “Peleg, you might want to remind Thaxad to untie this rope before he makes his next ascent. He’s going to have to wrap up securely and swing over before he starts climbing.”

  Peleg nodded, glad that he was not the last man.

  Untash scrambled up to the cave while Serug began his diagonal climb. When Thaxad arrived with the rope, Peleg relayed Untash’s instructions. This time, as he climbed, he felt a small sense of accomplishment as he found himself using his feet better—and somehow pulling himself diagonally actually made him feel more secure.

  He arrived at the cave and Serug pulled him in. Sometime later, Thaxad arrived, and Untash began reeling in the second rope.

  “I have never been a pendulum before,” was Thaxad’s only comment.

  Somehow Untash had managed to strip to his waist, and he and Serug were already preparing food. Peleg began the long process of getting his nerves under control. For some reason, his body knew that it was now safe to shiver in fear, whereas before it might have meant a long plunge to his death.

  “The worst is over,” said Untash, being careful not to speak directly to Peleg. “The rest of the climb is not as steep—it should be easier walking.”

  The others nodded, feeling good about their progress so far.

  “Of course, there may be more loose soil, so you’ll have to make sure you hang on tightly.”

  Untash finished his egg, and grabbed both coils of rope.

  “Come on up when you’re ready!”

  With that he darted out of the side of the opening, got a good grip on the mountain, and headed up.

  A few minutes later, a rope flopped across the cave opening and hung down past them.

  Serug wiped his mouth and replaced his utensils in his waist-pack. He walked over to the rope and pulled it inside. As Peleg watched, he realized that they would each have to secure themselves, then swing out using just their arms to get above the cave opening. A huge invisible hand clamped down on Peleg’s heart as he waited for his turn.

  Soon Serug arrived at the next landing and Thaxad helped Peleg secure himself. He swung out over the gorge, managed to pull himself over the cave opening, and resumed his climb.

  The grade was definitely less extreme, and Peleg tried to pretend he was simply walking up a steep hill—with the help of a rope.

  This routine continued until late into the afternoon, and finally Peleg pulled himself over the final rise where the rope was securely fastened to a lone tree at the top of the mountain. He walked to the tree and collapsed face down in front of it.

  Serug bounded over to him. “We made it!” he exclaimed. “You should see the view from here!”

  Slowly Peleg got up and joined Serug near the edge—but not too close. The entire ravine looked as if a giant axe had cleaved this large mountain in two. It ran as far as he could see to the East, and it tapered down in the West where their river (which he could no longer see) traveled through the cracks below.

  Thaxad finally arrived, pulling the last rope with him.

  “I believe we climbed over twelve hundred meters today,” he stated. “We must be just over three thousand meters above the Urbat.”

  “And several hundred leagues to the Northeast,” added Untash who was collecting the ropes. “We should make our way to the bridge and get across before nightfall.”

  The first items they noticed when they arrived at the bridge were two huge wooden poles which supported the ropes as they hung across the ravine. Each rope was as thick as Peleg’s forearm, and two ran side by side, while the third hung beneath forming a triangle. Smaller ropes held the three together, and they formed a single rope footbridge—with handholds. Additional ropes gave counter support to the poles, and were held in the ground by massive spikes which reminded him of tent pegs.

  “There used to be some kind of path leading up to this bridge,” Thaxad noted. “It looks as if many people walked this way—but it must have been more than thirty years ago.”

  Untash had already begun his walk across, and there was nothing about the bridge that suggested it could not hold them.

  Peleg realized he had indulged in relief prematurely. There was no time to think about the crossing—no time to prepare himself mentally. As Serug climbed onto the middle rope and began his passage, Untash called back, “Wait until I’m across! I don’t need you shaking the ropes!”

  Soon Serug was across, and Peleg stepped out unto the bottom rope. A wave of fear and dismay washed over him as he realized he had to look down, to make sure his feet made contact with the single bottom rope.

  Somehow he managed to partially close his eyes and focus on the rope beneath him without seeing the empty space and jagged rocks below. He inched his way along, gripping the two side ropes, trying to decide if it was better to keep his feet perpendicular to the rope, or follow it with his toes. He had no idea how much further he had to go—he simply kept putting one foot in front of the other with faith that his goal was getting closer.

  At l
ast he felt the final upturn of the bridge, and realized that he had crossed the edge several steps back and was now suspended over the ground. With a loud exhale he slid from the rope and for the second time that day expressed his love for solid earth.

  There was a similar old path on this side, and when Thaxad arrived, they continued along it.

  They followed this for some time when Serug suddenly asked, “Why can’t I catch my breath?”

  “I was wondering the same thing,” said Peleg. “I expected to be out of breath after our climb, but we’ve been walking at a relaxed pace for over an hour.”

  “The air is much thinner, here,” explained Untash. “Mentor Thaxad gave us the reason earlier. But it makes it harder to fill our lungs. It may take some time before we get used to it.”

  Thaxad nodded in agreement.

  As the sun began to go down over the mountains in the west, long orange shadows began to cover the landscape. Trees were scarce, and it became more difficult to discern the path.

  Suddenly Serug shouted, “There’s smoke!”

  They all looked carefully until Peleg saw the source.

  It was a small hut that could only have been made by a human—and it was just in front of them along the path.

  They approached and Peleg called out, “Pehe koe!”, the generic greeting he had learned from Kupé. He repeated this several times until they were right next to the small dwelling.

  They heard some stirring inside, and eventually a small doorframe covered with grass weavings opened and a small man wearing a robe emerged. He looked scared.

  “Pehe koe?” Peleg repeated with a slight bow, but the man just stared at them with large eyes.

  Slowly the man’s face twisted and contorted until it congealed into a mask of pure terror. He gasped and choked out a few meaningless words. He then pointed to his house and shouted, clearly, in the language of Irawaru’s islanders.

  “You may have my home!”

  He then turned and ran screaming down the path away from them.

  The men were stunned into momentary silence.

  “Why did he say we could have his home?” Serug spoke first.

  “And what was the first thing he said?” asked Untash. “I didn’t quite catch it.”

  Peleg answered, “I understood his words, but they didn’t make any sense.”

  “What were they?” asked Thaxad.

  “It sounded like he yelled, ‘Short Clothes!’” Peleg said with a scowl of confusion on his face.

  Peleg and his companions stared with puzzlement after the running man who was nowhere to be seen.

  “So… Let’s see what kind of home we were just given,” joked Serug.

  “Serug!” Peleg reprimanded him. “I wonder why he was so afraid?”

  “Well, we don’t look all that pretty,” offered Untash. “We haven’t had a good bath in weeks.”

  “Actually, we haven’t had a good bath in years,” said Peleg.

  “He did speak the language of the islanders,” observed Thaxad. “That certainly means that Kupé and his moon worshipers must have come from here.”

  “It also means that if we get into any arguments about the sun and the moon, we had better side with the sun,” Serug said glibly.

  Peleg nodded his head and grimaced in agreement.

  “Let’s have a look around. I don’t feel comfortable going inside this man’s home, however. We can set up camp out here, and if no one comes along by morning, we can continue along this same path.”

  They discovered a small garden next to the man’s hut where he was growing corn and grapes. Serug watched as a small fly landed on a beautiful bell-shaped flower along the edge of the plot.

  Snap!

  Serug jumped back as the large petals closed quickly on the unsuspecting fly. It tried desperately to climb between the fronds, but was soon overcome by some kind of drug and slowly disappeared in the folds of the plant.

  “Peleg!” he called. “Come here!”

  Peleg rushed over.

  “These plants eat insects!” he exclaimed. “Have you ever…?”

  “No,” Peleg said. “What do you mean?”

  “I just saw this plant grab and swallow a fly!”

  Thaxad approached and studied the strange plant with puzzlement. Without looking up he muttered incredulously, “It appears that everything is now allowed to eat meat!”

  “What do you mean by that?” asked Serug.

  “It is of no concern,” replied Thaxad after a short pause—with no intention of pursuing the matter.

  They stared at the flower and watched the petals slowly unfold as the trap was reset. They watched it for several minutes, until Serug impulsively reached out with his finger to touch it.

  “No!” shouted Peleg.

  But Serug had already brushed it, and the plant snapped shut around his finger.

  Serug yanked it free, damaging the plant slightly.

  “I hope there isn’t a larger version of this plant,” he stated.

  Peleg shook his head in exasperation.

  “Go help Untash with the meal,” he instructed.

  Serug walked away inspecting his finger which had gone slightly numb.

  After eating, they waited, expecting at any moment that someone would arrive to either greet them or challenge them. But as the night progressed, they gave up. There were no nearby trees, so they packed down the tall grasses, curled up, and went soundly to sleep.

  After a day of hiking, climbing, and crossing, they were dead to the world.

  High Minister Inanna was becoming more and more confounded by the documents which surrounded her. She was seated in front of the many scrolls which her husband had been translating, and had discovered many more writings which were archived in secrecy atop the Citadel.

  She had been studying them for several weeks now as she continued to assume her new position as High Minister, and she had finally come to two incontrovertible conclusions.

  First. Her husband had surely been mad—demented with some form of multiple personalities. His translations were not even remotely in agreement with the source writings. Perhaps she should have been more concerned about his choice in smoking material.

  Second. She had uncovered additional research which actually confirmed the destruction of Nibiru. Documentation from before the Great Calamity, which the incompetent, ‘all show and no substance’ Reu-Nathor had overlooked, indicated the destruction of a world between Nergal and Enki. The resulting downpour of mountain-sized rocks which flew throughout the Utu system had most certainly contributed to the global destruction of the Great Calamity.

  To prevent public fear, previous High Ministers had decided to keep this secret, but they had created new words for this event. Although mul referred to any celestial body, the word mul-ki had been constructed to refer to the wanderer Nibiru which had been ‘ripped apart’—and would also apply to any subsequent wanderer destroyed in a similar manner.

  Although it angered her that Reu-Nathor had unwittingly been correct about this, it confirmed her long-held belief that Suen held the answers to the whereabouts of the race of Semyaz. She smiled to herself as she realized that she now had an entire city who would be eager to devote themselves to her cause.

  This was her city, now. And when her father’s armies turned southward in their bid to unite the cities of the plains, she could offer it as a bloodless annexation and enjoy full power under her father—the resurrected Sar of Heaven and Earth.

  Chapter 22

  Conspiracy

  “A lie for the good of society supports a greater good—human contentment.”

  A rustling in the stiff grasses woke Peleg in an instant. He forced his eyes to remain closed, then opened them slightly.

  He was damp from the morning dew, but he could see two figures approaching. The first was the man from the previous evening, but the second was a tall man with a long robe and a tight helmet, apparently made from leather, with a large ridge or headband surroundin
g it.

  Through his eye-slits, he saw Thaxad and Untash stir, and he knew they were awake. The two men continued to approach, but the shorter man slowed and walked behind the taller one as if he were still afraid.

  In silent agreement, Peleg and Thaxad rose to face the strangers. The man whose house they had slept beside jumped and stood firmly behind the helmeted one, peering out from behind him.

  “Pehe koe?” Peleg said carefully with a bow.

  The tall man stopped and gave a puzzled look.

  “You speak our tongue?” he asked. His speech was slightly different from that of Kupé’s, but it was clear and understandable.

  Peleg responded in the same.

  “I speak many tongues,” he offered, not wanting to sound boastful.

  “That is not possible,” stated the man, confidently. He looked firmly at them.

  Untash was rising, but Serug continued his silent, motionless sleep.

  “Where have you come from?” the man demanded, showing a staff that had been next to him, blending with the folds of his robe.

  “We have come from across the ocean, from the settlement of Ur.” Peleg responded.

  The man became visibly angry.

  “That is a lie!” he glared. “Humanity is no more, save in this land, founded and given to the Survivors as a gift by the merciful Viracocha.” His head bowed slightly as he spoke the name. “We have been warned of the Waca wearing short clothing who would arrive someday and attempt to destroy the people of Viracocha.”

  Peleg looked down at his outfit, which was still dusty and worn from their travels. They all wore thigh-length leather-pleated skirts which allowed mobility while performing their duties on the Urbat. He knew their hair must be filthy, and that they were covered with dust and partially healed scratches from their climb.

  Untash had translated some of the conversation, and understood the comment about clothing.

  “It’s a lot warmer where we’re from,” he commented.

  The tall one looked sharply at Untash and walked slowly towards him. He stared into Untash’s eyes, but Untash stood fast, squinting slightly. Slowly the man turned to look at Peleg again, then at Thaxad, who was only slightly taller than he was.