Journey to Water's Heart

by Lea Ben Shlomo

  By now, a large, horned head had emerged behind all the other gray heads. The head was attached to a huge, lumpy body. They climbed off the horses and pressed close to the steep wall, as far as possible from the Hayatulaum. They saw a creature walking down the path they had taken. The Hayatulaum had found the path. The others would surely follow. “A fool’s trap,” Yoven said, not daring to move and draw attention to himself.

  “A fool’s trap,” Tanti repeated. “I can’t believe my journey ends here.”

  “There will always be a light guiding you, if you know where to search for it,” the gardener had told him. “The tree’s roots will open before you and immediately close, like a fool’s trap on your heart. Halama, halum, halama.” He closed his eyes.

  Zeek and Yoven grabbed his arms and pulled him after them. Stones crumbled beneath their feet, and they kept sliding into the canyon. The path behind them was blocked by gray bodies. Suddenly, they heard a horrible scream and a choking sound. Tanti whirled around and saw one of the gray creatures devour one of the horses, the sound of crunching bones filling the canyon.

  “To the tree!” Tanti yelled. “Run to the tree.” He held Larimer’s halter and ran forward.

  The tree’s roots wound over the rocks, and they climbed quickly. “Leave the horses,” Zeek yelled, hitting his arm several times until Tanti dropped the reins. Yoven pushed him between the twisted branches and jumped in after him. Zeek joined them.

  The tree’s branches closed in on them and created a kind of cave. Beneath them, they heard excruciating noises. Wheezing and screaming, growling, and shrill, earsplitting shrieks. The Yenook attacked their prey while climbing over each other to reach it. Yoven blocked a horrified Tanti’s sight. For now, it didn’t look as though the Yenook could penetrate the knotted tangled branches.

  They shoved between the branches, as far from the entrance as possible. Their eyes, used to the darkness, noticed the spaces between the tree and the stone wall. The dry “hair,” which used to be the tree’s leaves, became entangled around their arms and legs. Fiber covered the stone wall at their backs like a curtain.

  “They’ll finish with the horses and start searching for us,” Zeek said. He started pulling and ripping the curtain of fiber and shoving it in the spaces between the branches. Tanti and Yoven hurried to do the same.

  In the darkness, Tanti noticed a dark stain shaped like half a pear, revealed on the exposed stone wall. Beyond the partition they created, they heard sounds of crunching, scratching, and stamping. The earth shook. The tree trunk creaked. All of a sudden, the lump of weed blocking the entrance was pushed forward powerfully. Zeek was shoved back. A pair of jaws jostled between the branches, and yellow teeth, dripping with blood, were revealed. The smell of jasmine, flesh, and blood filled the small space.

  They leaped back. Tanti pressed against the dark stain on the wall, which turned out to be a deep, humid depression. The head that appeared between the branches thrashed angrily. Yellow, bloody teeth drew close to them. A sharp horn and huge slanted eyes; a furrowed, lumpy brow. Yoven shouted in fright and stumbled back. The tangle of “hair” couldn’t sustain his weight, and he collapsed into it. A large hole opened in the stone wall. Tanti tried to catch Yoven’s hand, but he slid down. Yoven’s desperate shout rolled down, its echo following suit.

  A young Yenook started chomping on the tree.

  “Come on,” Tanti said, and pulled Zeek after him, toward the hole into which Yoven had disappeared.

  “The hole is deep!” Zeek said anxiously. “We don’t know what lies at the end of it.”

  “We do know it will be the end of us if we don’t go down that hole,” Tanti said, pointing at the snapping jaws trying to push their way between the thick branches. Tanti and Zeek held the twisting branches, and the branch gave out beneath their weight. Tanti felt himself slide back, toward the hole. Zeek let go of the branch first. His weight pushed Tanti, and the two of them started falling. Tanti spiraled inside, echoes of sounds assaulting him, whirling around his head, dizzy from the wild ride down.

  After some time, the spiral curves grew more moderate. He started sliding more slowly. The noises weren’t as loud. Finally, Tanti managed to stop sliding. Zeek tumbled right into his lap. They slid down several more feet, glued to each other, until they managed to separate and stand up, both of them cursing.

  Panting and unable to believe their good luck, they raised their heads to look up. They couldn’t see a thing in the dark. Now, they could continue walking cautiously. They found Yoven, extracting himself from the tangled knot of the hair fibers, trying to regroup, and overjoyed to see them.

  Zeek rushed around the space they found themselves in, studying the area and looking for an exit.

  “What is this place?” he said. “Even a Lizard can’t climb up this spiral shaft.”

  Yoven chuckled. “Show me a Lizard who’d like to climb up and meet the yellow teeth of that hunger monster.”

  “Show me a Lizard who’s willing to be buried alive in a moist, dark pit.”

  “Stop, stop.” Tanti pleaded. “Let’s look together for a way out.”

  “Are you sure there’s a way out? Where did you drag us? We’re trapped here, without food, empty-handed. We don’t know anything about the area. You’re walking, and we’re following you like blind men. Where have we arrived?”

  “Zeek, I didn’t drag you anywhere. You could’ve turned back when I told you to.”

  “No,” Yoven said quietly. “We couldn’t have turned back and left you on your own.” He stumbled and slipped on the moist ground, studying the place. “We fell into an old monks’ cave.”

  “I hope you know what you’re talking about,” Zeek said.

  “My grandfather told me. These were assessment caves. They’d throw the monks into places that looked inescapable.”

  “Meaning that there was a way to get out,” Zeek said.

  “It appears so. Only a chosen few could find it.”

  “If there’s a way out, we’ll find it,” Zeek said. “What do you think, Tanti?”

  “We’ll get out of here. Even if we have to dig through the rock.”

  “I hear water,” Yoven said. Tanti and Zeek fell silent and listened. Now that they couldn’t hear the growls of the Hayatulaum, they heard the faint sound of water flowing. Zeek disappeared, and then reappeared quickly. “There’s a stream flowing in the rock. It must be the continuation of Cord Creek.”

  They approached the place. A current of blue water kept reappearing beneath the layer of stone. They stood there for some time, staring at the water.

  Tanti crouched and reached out to touch the cold water. The events of the difficult day reverberated in his soul. He walked toward the place where the water flowed into the rock. “We’ll leave from here,” he said, pointing forward.

  “How can you be so sure that this doesn’t lead to a dead end?” Zeek asked.

  “The water’s blue,” Tanti said. “That means that light comes in from this direction.” He pointed toward the direction in which the water was flowing. “We may be able to leave from the other direction, against the current. But then we’re going back, you know.”

  “You heard, Yoven? That’s what the commander said.”

  “I’ll leave first,” Yoven said.

  Before they could say something, Yoven entered the water.

  “Yoven, come back,” Tanti and Zeek said. Yoven didn’t answer. He let the current carry him and disappeared beneath the rock. They waited for some time and didn’t hear a thing. Tanti went into the water too. If Yoven was in danger, it was his fault.

  Zeek entered after him. The current carried them. They experienced minutes of terror while they were submerged in water, not knowing if they’d ever get out. And then, the sun shone on their faces, and they found themselves floating, a sky as pale as milk above them. Yoven was holding a half-submerged b
ranch and reached out, pulling Tanti to him. Zeek swam and grasped roots. They helped him climb up to them and clambered out to dry land.

  Part Three

  The Heart of the Water

  Chapter 41

  Battles

  The boys marched along the path. Their white, starched uniforms gleamed and blended with the pale vegetation on both sides of the road. White flowers of spring stood as though abashed when they didn’t gain recognition, and some were trampled beneath strong, proud feet. Armed and well trained, the excited soldiers marched in sync, toward promised victory. The Valley of the Edges opened before them. That was where they’d set up camp, and from there, they’d leave to conquer the fertile territories, rife with orchards and vineyards, on the outskirts of Nautilin.

  Nothing prepared them for what came next, when the rocks rose and became a vociferous Blue army. In the blink of an eye, they found themselves defending themselves from the swords falling upon them. Metal clashed. Arms were raised and lowered mightily. Shields were raised a moment too late. The element of surprise was so complete that many Whites died, their faces frozen in surprise, before they had time to draw their swords.

  It wasn’t long before the Whites and Blues were mixed. The Whites managed to recover and fought back. Swords were drawn and plunged into live flesh. Blood colored the uniforms of both the Whites and the Blues.

  The White army was halted, and the survivors retreated, dragging their injured and barely escaping with their lives.

  The happy cries of the Blues abated as they collected the bodies of their dead and the injured soldiers, crying with pain. Messengers were sent off urgently to bring the news to the king and queen.

  When night fell, the brave soldiers of Anura snuck to the battlefield to collect their many dead, who’d remained there, abandoned.

  Galrock gritted his teeth when he heard the news. “Damn Blues,” he said. “This is the first battle. They’ll see how strong we are.”

  He forbade his people from moving the injured to the nearest city to receive treatment. The soldiers were those who treated their comrades’ wounds, tending to them the best they could. The dead were buried in a clearing in the woods in a secret place. Galrock demanded silence and secrecy. The soldiers who took part in that battle were sent to a detention camp. “In order to rest,” they were told. They didn’t know how long they’d stay there.

  “The right thing to do is keep our defeat from the public. We don’t want to break the other soldiers’ spirits,” Galrock said to the troop commanders, and ordered them to prepare the first-line companies for departure.

  The big offensive campaign was planned for the coming days. Galrock knew the next campaign had to end in victory in order to restore his army’s deterrent power, as well as his status as commander. He gathered his generals and planned his next steps. .

  ***

  That night, the Blue king’s sleep evaded him. He knew the big battle was still ahead of him. The first battle’s small victory had encouraged him and his soldiers, yet his joy was mixed with pain. People had been killed and injured. People had lost limbs. And there would be more. Had he done whatever was necessary to prevent death and injury?

  A long-necked Runya bird appeared at dawn at the king’s window, minutes after he had fallen asleep. Queen Cyan was the one who woke up when she heard the constant, gentle cooing at the window. She got up and held the bird in her hand, extracting the rolled note from the bird’s leg and opening it.

  “Dionun announces that his people observed mass movement of the White army. They’re approaching the Valley of the Edges, this time from the east.”

  Cyan sighed and rested her hand on her stomach protectively.

  “What’s wrong, darling? Something bothering you?” the king asked. He sat on the bed. “How long have I slept?”

  “About fifteen minutes,” Cyan said and gave him the note.

  The king sat on the edge of the bed and read the letter.

  “Impossible!” he said. “Impossible that they come from the east.”

  “Why?”

  “They’re not supposed to come from there.”

  The mail bird cleaned its feathers importantly. Cyan took a semolina cookie out of the drawer and put it before the bird. Then she poured the king a glass of water.

  “Isn’t that what you’d call ‘a wise military maneuver’?” she said.

  “Unfortunately, it is very wise of the Whites to change direction while most of our troops are waiting for them somewhere else. If we don’t hurry, it’ll simply be too late.” The king opened the door and called for his personal servant.

  Cyan went to her rooms to get dressed. She wanted to be present at the meeting between the king and his people. She stopped at the door and said, “My Blue, they’ll strike mercilessly. They’re furious because of their defeat in the first battle.”

  “Cyan, my darling.” The king went to hug her. “In your condition, please don’t bother yourself with war. You must take care of yourself and… You know… Our future child.”

  “I worry about the soldiers. In a way, they’re our children too.”

  “I know,” the king said. “War is bad for everyone. We can only do what we can do.”

  “And a bit more,” Cyan said.

  “Yes. And a bit more. I think… I have an idea.”

  “I can imagine,” Cyan said and smiled. “I’ll hear it with the rest of the people coming to the meeting. And now, hurry up and get dressed. I’ll see there’s tea and sandwiches.”

  At that meeting, it was decided that the sharpshooters’ unit—the “invisible shooters”—would wait for the White army where they were supposed to pass. The sharpshooters would pester them and cause them to stop, or at least slow them down, while hiding among trees and rocks, so they would be able to escape the scene unscathed. In the meantime, the Blue army would move east, spreading along the border and preventing an invasion into Nautilin.

  ***

  They sat on the banks of the stream, drying their clothes in the sun, exhausted, hungry, and still shaken up by the events of the last few hours. They had nothing with which they could fish or hunt, except a small, sharp knife that Zeek had managed to hold on to. They couldn’t see signs of a settlement anywhere. The stream meandered down a moderate slope. Limestone mountains rose beyond it, their cliffs ascending like fortresses. Tanti remembered the shape of the head embroidered on the map and surveyed the landscape. In one place, at the foot of the mountains, there was a dark stain. Tanti narrowed his eyes. Excitement gripped him. Weren’t those the mountains he was supposed to reach? Perhaps the mushroom was there, in its depths.

  Zeek, as usual, disappeared into the pale bushes and returned with edible roots. He peeled them with his sharp knife and served them to his friends. They devoured the roots hungrily. Yoven took the knife and started carving a hook and fishing rod from one of the branches.

  It was odd being in a pale area; among all the vegetation along the river there wasn’t even one green leaf. Yet it was still fertile and full of life.

  “What are you looking at?” Zeek asked.

  “That mountain. There’s something unusual about it.”

  “Maybe it’s the Mountain of Tears?” Yoven asked. “It’s making me uncomfortable.”

  “As hard as it is for me,” Zeek said. “I’m forced to agree with you. We have to get away from this place. We’ll eat whatever we can find here and walk down the stream. We’re close to the border, and we have to find our way back to Nautilin.”

  “The Mountain of Tears.” Tanti murmured.

  “Many tears are shed over those who go there and are lost,” Zeek said.

  “You’re so stupid, Zeek,” Yoven said. “Don’t you know the legend about Princess Masharin?”

  “I don’t believe in legends. I do believe in gut feelings. That mountain is cursed. And it wants to swallow u
s up. Tanti, you see the vegetation covering its slopes? It’s said that it’s nourished by the blood of adventurers, those who wanted to know why it’s called the Mountain of Tears.”

  Yoven threw dried fruit at him. “You and your nonsense.” He threw his hook into the water.

  “You think that with that twig you’re going to get us something to eat?” Zeek said. He got up and started searching for fruit and berries. Tanti joined him.

  Tanti didn’t know how Zeek had managed to build a little fire. He threw the pale bulbs of the wild flourista that they’d gathered into the fire. After some time, he pulled them out, their skin scorched. Now the flourista was crispy and tasty. Yoven managed to catch several fish, which they added to the meal. The fish were small and few, yet it was like a king’s feast for the three men.

  When their stomachs were full, the three men were in higher spirits.

  “Well, it has to be said, my friends. Lizards know how to survive anywhere,” Tanti said.

  He banked the fire and helped the two men collect the food remains and cover their tracks. Then he leaned back against the tree, while Zeek lounged on one of its branches, swinging like a little monkey.

  “We’ll rest a bit and then move away from here,” Yoven said. “I feel uncomfortable before this mountain. I think if we walk along the river, we’ll reach White villages next to the border. We know the way from there.” Zeek threw the fish head and bare fish bones at him.

  “If Dionun knew what a soft-hearted coward you were, he wouldn’t have recruited you to the Lizards,” he said. “Despite the excellent fishing skills you’ve demonstrated here.”

  The argument between the two was quick to come.

  Tanti was no longer listening. He sprawled back, half asleep, his eyes drooping. Ahead of him, beyond the stream, the white limestone rocks looked like huge images growing out of the mountain. He could make out a small waterfall, rushing over the boulder at the bottom of the mountain.