Journey to Water's Heart

by Lea Ben Shlomo

  His vision grew blurry, the rock images disappeared, and he thought he saw the head of a white horse with a long neck above the waterfall. “Gayalo,” Tanti whispered. He got up. The image disappeared. “Gayalo, where are you now?” In his mind’s eye, he saw the horse’s huge eyes, staring at him defiantly, as though saying, And where are you, sir? Again, the horse’s head appeared, clearly drawn among the rocks.

  Yoven sat down next to him. “Who’s Gamalo, sir? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Gayalo,” Tanti said, “was my horse.” Before his eyes, he saw an image of the horse galloping in fright in the canyon, rocks rolling down on both sides, furroids biting their heels, the narrow entrance ahead of them. His heart thundered. Now, he saw a waterfall, similar to the waterfall before him, and a white hand stroking the horse, on his neck a glistening teardrop, which grew and became an eye, and grew even more…

  “Sir! Commander! What’s wrong?”

  “I have to go,” Tanti said and got up.

  “Where to?” Zeek climbed down to a lower branch and swung from one hand.

  “Over there.” Tanti pointed toward the mountain.

  “Are you crazy?” they both said. Zeek jumped down, landing on his feet. “Keep away from that mountain. The minute you start seeing images, you know it’s time to leave.”

  “You’re leaving, my friends,” Tanti said. “This is where we say goodbye. Return to Nautilin, and I’ll continue on my way.”

  “We keep telling you we’re staying with you,” Zeek said. “You don’t know where you’re going.”

  Tanti shook his head. “I do know I’m going.”

  They were silent for a long time.

  “We’ll wait for you here,” Yoven finally said.

  “That’s unnecessary. You’re needed in your country.”

  “Sir…” Yoven’s eyes filled with sorrow. Zeek raised his chin, hiding his feelings.

  The waterfall drew Tanti like something magical. He felt himself quivering from head to toe and didn’t want to wait, not even for one more moment. He hugged the two of them and thanked them for their help.

  “I won’t forget how you stood by my side when I was imprisoned and helpless,” he said to Yoven, who stood there, miserable and tearful. “I hope we’ll meet again.”

  Zeek held him tightly.

  “Regards to my dear friend Dionun, your commander. Tell him you brought me safely to my destination.” Zeek turned his head away uncomfortably when he heard Dionun mentioned. Tanti didn’t wait to ask him why. He wanted to leave.

  Without another word, he turned away, crossed the stream, and walked toward the mountain.

  ***

  He walked toward the waterfall, which looked further away than he had first thought. The mountain seemed to retreat with every step he took toward it. He quickened his steps. For a moment, he turned back. He could no longer see his two friends. Rocks and bushes blocked his field of vision.

  He arrived at the raging waterfall. It was very high and poured into a pool with round rocks strewn in it. Colorful prisms appeared among the waterdrops. The pool had another outlet, a smaller waterfall, which turned toward the depths of the rock in the mountain. Tanti walked along the torrent, approaching the mountain wall, corroded by winds and water.

  Beyond the jagged rock, he noticed an entrance. He crossed the torrent swiftly, walking on the rocks as though on a bridge.

  The entrance was narrow and high. He took a deep breath and entered.

  ***

  For some time, he walked along the dark, narrow passage, shivering with cold in his moist clothes. The passage became narrower and lower, until he had to lie on his stomach and crawl. The air was humid and oppressive. He started breathing heavily. The passage widened and then became narrow again. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to continue or turn back. He no longer heard the waterfall, just the faintest sound of water dripping occasionally.

  As he crawled, he was relieved when he noticed that the walls became wider apart, and he could get up and walk with his head lowered. After several feet, he managed to straighten up. A faint light led the way. A long rock, about twenty meters high, blocked the passage. Tanti shoved himself between the rock and the wall.

  Nothing prepared him for what he saw.

  The cave gaped open and became a spacious hall, as far as the eye could see, full of stalactites and stalagmites and wrought rock columns, which created a mysterious, magnificent palace. Tanti couldn’t see the ceiling among all the stalactites, and therefore couldn’t find the source of the light that glowed and painted the sculpted columns in a palette of soft colors. Among the stalactites, he noticed moist drops, like transparent bags, pink, purple, and light blue. Some were round and hung like clusters of beads, which reminded him of crystal chandeliers.

  In that sea of colors and shapes, he heard a noise that rose and fell, ebbed and flowed between the stone columns, rising high until it disappeared.

  For a long time, Tanti wandered dreamily in the huge hall, taking in all the sights revealed before him. The musical sounds flowed down from the ceiling, sometimes from beneath his feet, and sometimes from his heart.

  When he arrived at the heart of the hall, he noticed other caves branching out from it. He stopped and sat down to rest. He had to decide which cave to choose. He wanted to study the map on the embroidered scarf. He raised his hand to his neck.

  The scarf wasn’t there.

  Panic gripped him. When was the last time he had seen his scarf?

  He remembered checking the map in the grove. After that, suspecting Zeek of following him, he hadn’t spread out the scarf again. Had his scarf been stolen? Perhaps it had fallen as he crawled in the mountain’s tunnels? Perhaps it had caught on one of the jagged rocks when he crawled here? Maybe it had disappeared before that, when they ran away from the Hayatulaum? How had he not noticed it had disappeared?

  He had to decide whether to turn back and search for it among the rocks, or go back the way he arrived. What an idiot he was. How could he have been so sloppy? Suddenly, in that hall filled with huge columns, Tanti felt tiny and helpless. Why did Aklivor send him here? He wasn’t the man for this mission. He was lost in the depths of the earth, and he didn’t even know if he would find his way back.

  He sat down, leaning back on the stone behind him. His limbs were loose. His thoughts were running away from him. Long notes flowed in the air. Time stood still.

  Pikomanoria. That’s what he was looking for. The name permeated the fog that wrapped his thoughts. The mushroom was somewhere inside the mountain. He knew that. Pikomanoria—a subspecies named Rodolia Kagular Masharin—that was his mushroom. And it was here.

  “The insights will be tangible, something you can grasp and operate,” Aklivor had said. “If you know how to channel your consciousness toward sources of knowledge, to the depths of the rocks, to the gap between the stars, to the heart of the water.”

  Tanti started making his way to the entrances. The light in the cave dimmed slightly. If it came through some entrance in the cave’s ceiling, the place would be shrouded in complete darkness when the sun set. He had to hurry to find what he needed, before darkness trapped him.

  ***

  The Whites were surprised once again when a volley of arrows blocked their great attack. Many soldiers didn’t even have the time to draw their sword before they fell bleeding, to the ground.

  Many White troops took part in the battle. The White army, although halted, didn’t stop. The cavalrymen galloped forward and burst through the archers’ formation. They spread around the plains and galloped forward, maintaining straight, impenetrable rows. The sight was intimidating and frightening. Silence welcomed them when they passed through the Valley of the Edges. Behind them, the infantrymen marched. They meant to cross the border and invade Nautilin.

  “Abaya, abaye.” A sharp c
ry was heard when the Blue cavalrymen appeared, galloping wildly. Tanti’s cavaliers rode quickly, appearing from different directions. Their appearance destabilized the White army, even though the Blue cavalry wasn’t as big as the White one. They surrounded the orderly structure, screaming and wailing, sliding off their horses’ backs, and burying their spears in their enemies’ horses or the riders themselves. Some of them stood on their saddles. Others jumped off their horses onto the White cavaliers’ horses, pressing themselves to the backs of the riders, then throwing them off their horses and letting the hooves of the other horses trample them to death. They were quick, flexible, and unexpected. The Whites, well trained, fought back. Their advantage was in their numbers and coolheadedness.

  The battle raged on until darkness fell on the valley and the warriors retreated to their camps, to rest and regroup. The border remained intact.

  The next day, the battle resumed. This time, the Whites tried a different tactic, combining cavalrymen, lances, and infantrymen. They managed to reach the border. It was the Blue volunteers, led by Zoded, who appeared in great throngs and pushed the White army several hundred yards back.

  The Whites entrenched themselves behind a hill and stationed guards. Their location was good and allowed them to regroup. The Blues also needed an intermission. They collected their dead and injured and returned to their camp on the outskirts of the city, where convoys of food, medicine, and necessary equipment arrived, with Iralu in charge.

  The commanders knew no rest. The Whites and Blues studied each other, evaluating and summarizing the battle at the end of each day and preparing for the next day. It was difficult for the Whites to change their plans and their familiar fighting traditions, in which they believed and which had brought them so many victories in the past. Their large numbers and determination in the face of the raucous, restless Blues was to their advantage, and was what mobilized their troops forward in the battlefield. The commanders begged for changes, yet Galrock stuck to his earlier plans, which failed and resulted in retreats that discouraged his soldiers.

  That night, Zoded, the leader of the volunteers, ran from tent to tent, from bonfire to bonfire, receiving updates regarding the number of wounded and dead. In the past days, the volunteers had changed the course of the battles and helped push the Whites from the borders. Zoded was hero-worshipped. However, the events didn’t allow him to enjoy the glory.

  He hadn’t slept for several nights and days. At night, when the battles ceased, he’d receive updates about the status of his people and the battles. The generals invited him to their nightly meetings, exchanged information, and gave him the next day’s assignments. Things changed from day to day. Sometimes, decisions were changed several times a day. News and updates arrived all the time from the Lizards, who dared come extremely close to the White army without them finding out, thus collecting information that helped the Blues surprise the Whites and overcome the huge gap in the number of soldiers and the White army’s skills.

  Zoded stationed sentries opposite the mountain. Then he ordered his excited men to bank their fires, sleep, and save their strength for the next battle. Finally, he reached his own tent. He had to forget, just for a short while, the weighty assignments before him, the blood, the screaming, and the pain, and close his eyes for several hours. His exhaustion had become an unbearable torture.

  Afun, his good friend, waited for him next to his tent. The gentle, pleasant youth had fought by his side tirelessly. He stood there, still wearing his uniform, in his hand a bloody scarf. Was he wounded? Something about his expression did not bode well.

  “Mazof,” Afun said, and added no more. Tears started falling down his frozen face, leaving tear tracks on his dusty cheeks.

  “What? What happened?” Zoded knew. And he didn’t want to know.

  “One minute he was by my side, fighting, roaring like a lion. And then, he disappeared.” Afun lowered his head. “I found him with a sword sticking out of his stomach. I dragged him out of there, so the soldiers wouldn’t trample him. He lost a lot of blood. He said, ‘Tell Zoded that I…’ and then repeated the name ‘Matana.’”

  Zoded didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. He collapsed where he stood, covering his face with both hands. Afun kneeled before him.

  For the second time that day, he climbed the Hill of the Fallen and glanced at the straight silent rows wrapped in blue sheets, hearing the mournful cry of grieving mothers. “This is war, Afun. And this is what it looks like,” he said.

  The cold, agonized youth at his side kneeled and released a bitter scream from his heart, which cut the night sky and shocked the sleeping camp.

  Chapter 42

  Heart of Water

  Fear crept into Tanti’s heart. The colors grew darker. Soon, it would be night. He would have to spend the night immobile. He wasn’t familiar with the dangers of the place, didn’t know how to protect himself, or what to fear. He searched for a place to rest before dark, and crawled into a niche that looked dry and had a smooth floor.

  His eyes remained wide open, clinging to the last remnants of light. The music became softer. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had a thought that perhaps he wasn’t alone.

  The crystal beads and “bags” hanging from the ceiling of the cave emitted a faint glow. A light blue, green, and pink light started flowing from the stalactites and stalagmites, increasing as daylight faded. The cave suddenly looked different. Tanti found himself in a huge hall, illuminated by thousands of delicate lights. Spots of light looked as though they were swaying on the ceiling, on the walls, and around the huge columns.

  He got up and stared at the magnificent sight, unable to contain the many colors and shapes. He laughed out loud, and in relief, his terror of the dark swept away. “You’re beautiful, marbles of light. You’re the teardrops of a princess following her love.” He carefully touched one illuminated bead. The bead shimmered slightly. It was cool and soft to the touch, and left a viscous stain on the back of his hand. When he pulled his hand back, the light glowed from that same place on the back of his hand. His hand bumped into a small cloth bag, which was hidden in an inside pocket of his shirt, in which he would put the mushroom. Soon, he’d find it. He knew the moment was approaching.

  He sat down, his body loose, feeling the tension gradually leave his body and soul. The sights and colors crept into him and flowed out of him with the continuous sound, which changed slowly. While clearing his mind of thoughts, his body relaxed from his exhaustion, his hunger, and his thirst. The sights were clearer now, the lights gleaming gently and charmingly. Tanti got up and felt a pleasant vibration pull him toward a powerful place. That was where he directed his steps.

  Beyond the row of huge stone pillars, he discovered rooms, more caves, and dark niches. He walked unhesitatingly down the wide passage, which branched into rooms separated by huge stalagmites. The rooms widened and united into a huge space. The ground was rife with bodies of water and odd pale plants in twisted positions, their stems and watery leaves half-transparent, those same soft pink, purple, and light blue colors. The plants reached out, their edges like serrated flowers, opening and closing slowly. At the edges of the leaves, he noticed tiny eyes, blinking and following his movements. Water pools were scattered around, surrounded by ferns and wood louse. Tree roots hung from the ceiling of the cave, making their way to the pools.

  The air was thick and rife with heavy, sulfurous smells. Among them stood out a sweetish, strange, yet familiar smell, which instilled in him a feeling of awareness and freshness. Along the walls, he noticed images hewn into the rock, and one particular image, her long hair merging with the train of her white dress and flowing to the darkened wall.

  “If you were here with me,” Tanti said. “You would’ve thought the place beautiful, with all its changing colors and wild shapes. You would’ve emerged from your white shell and danced in the Ball of Live Flowers.”

  The White
image fell from the wall and floated toward him. It was made of frozen water. Her wide eyes looked at him without moving, and her lips were slightly separated.

  “Tanti Marin.” She touched him and his hand merged with hers, covered with a layer of ice, which quickly spread along his arm, up to his neck.

  Tanti cried out and shook his hand. The layer of ice crumbled, and the image vanished. He found himself standing next to the dripping, mildewed rock wall, his hand wet and stinging. A cobweb covered the walls. It looked as though it were growing and moving, revealing itself from moment to moment as it rustled and whispered.

  “You’re here!” Tanti said. “And I’m coming to you. I’ll find your smart hiding place, glorious Kagular Masharin. I’ve come from a distant land. Weary from all the sights I’ve collected during my journeys. Weary from the loneliness, the fear, and the hostility. From homesickness and from love. From entire worlds of foreignness and unity. Sly crystal mushroom, riches of knowledge crumble within you into millions of questions. Crawling to the unknown. I grasp them, yet my hands are empty. I bring you my burdened heart as an offering. I will lay before you the dreams of Izmeran, in exchange for life and growth.”

  The echo of his words returned to him, mixing and swirling with the waves of the long notes. Before another illusion could overcome him, he started walking carefully, examining the moist ground and the puddles scattered on it.

  The bodies of water were round, their colors metallic. Reddish-brown, like dust, gold, dark purple, and bright green. Tanti stepped among them, careful not to step on the tiny sharp stalagmites that protruded from the wet, slippery ground and scratched his legs. Occasionally, he stumbled and stepped in one of the puddles, and his shoes assumed a silvery shade.

  The deeper he walked, the more puddles and the less dry ground he came across. Walking among the puddles became more and more difficult. Tanti went to the edges of the cave in order to walk along the walls, where the ground was higher and a bit dryer. He saw a familiar glimmer, perhaps a fraction of a second too late, as he felt his foot sucked into the greenish hole of water. He pulled his foot out forcefully. His shoe was sucked off and disappeared into the bubbling puddle.