by Brad Stucki
Javin couldn’t detect any danger so he stepped across the threshold into the room. A tingling hit like he’d passed through a barrier. He turned to look at the roof and walls of the corridor. Nothing. The feeling was gone as suddenly as it had come. Carefully, he stepped back through. Still nothing. He shrugged and stepped back into the chamber, looking closely at the doorway as he did so. He couldn’t see a thing until he got close. There, a tiny seam of blue-white light traversed the circumference of the doorway. He had passed through a barrier. What had it done? Carefully, he checked himself. He didn’t feel any different. There were no marks on his skin. Javin shook his head and turned back to the room.
For the first time he saw the ceiling. It was deceptive, feeling low and cozy, but looking directly up it was twice as high as he'd noticed from the outside.
That can't be. I didn't feel any incline in the maze. Still, he couldn't argue with his eyes. He must have descended several levels without knowing.
There was something else peculiar about the ceiling. It was open to the sky! He could see blackness associated with night-time, and he could make out twinkling pinpricks of light that must be stars.
Wait a minute! What about the mist? I've never seen stars on this planet, especially at night! This isn't what it seems.
Javin gazed at the ceiling until his neck began to ache. It never changed from the serene appearance of a peaceful night sky. He moved down to the center landing in front of the arch and looked back over the room, trying to discern any patterns that might mean anything.
When he looked back, the center of the arch had gone dark. Pitch black!
What's happening?
Javin reached up a hand and started to place it against the plane of the arch. So far there wasn't any resistance. Because it was so black, he wasn't sure whether it was a hard surface or had just become a "doorway."
Now why did I think that? He didn't know, but was getting used to strange thoughts popping into his head.
He moved his hand closer until it met resistance. Was it the surface? His hands didn't feel anything. It was as if his hand went as far as it could go then couldn't be pushed further. Not a solid surface, but a barrier. Javin skimmed his hand along the plane. Faint ripples flowed out as his hand moved. Still, he couldn't press through.
"Pop!"
Javin jumped back. Something had sparked, like a circuit closing. The arch had changed again into a smooth, reflective surface. He drew closer and saw his reflection.
Since waking, he hadn't given much thought to his appearance, mainly focusing on jarring his memory, remembering who he was, why he was here. His appearance might give him a clue.
Javin stood full on. He noted with wry humor he was a good looking man, on the younger side of being middle aged -- whatever that was for him -- with dusty brown hair and curious black eyes that made him look twice to make sure. His frame was bronzed from being in the open though not burned by the mist-sheltered sun. Ropy muscles tending towards lean and supple were well proportioned with a sense of quickness.
Not bad for an old man . . .
Javin caught himself. Why did I think of myself as being old? I'm clearly not. I didn't even mean it that way. It was just a joke. He rubbed the growth of long stubble on his face. I've got to find a way to shave. He didn't like the beard. It itched.
He had recognized himself but was disappointed it did nothing to jar his memory. Strange to recognize yourself and still not "know" who you were.
Javin turned and moved over to sit on the nearest slab. He was hungry and tired. The skylight hadn’t changed. He'd been in the pyramid a long time.
Pulling a fruit from his pouch he chewed as he studied the arch. Nothing he’d seen so far helped him know who he was or why he was here.
The glow of the room was still a bit unnerving. He still couldn’t detect a source of light. Everything about this place was odd.
An impression flowed into his mind.
I needed to come here.
Strange, he hadn't felt any draw towards this location. It'd seemed completely random.
"Oh well,” he sighed. “Add that to the mystery.”
He lied down on the stone, resting his back on the cool slab, staring into the skylight. It was hypnotic. The stars' glistening points soothed his nerves. Tired, stiff muscles loosened. He felt himself drifting off.
May as well sleep here as anywhere.
Javin turned his head to catch sight of the arch one more time. It was clear again, just an empty arch sitting in the middle of the room. He chuckled, shook his head.
Drowsiness continued to overtake him, his consciousness slogging. A faint image flashed in his mind. A bright place. Voices . . . Javin frantically struggled to grasp the memory and hold it, but his mind continued to spiral down, scattering the memory in the bliss of sleep.
***
Chahzuu loped through the upper terrace of the trees just below the shroud of mist diffusing and spreading the ‘Great Light’. His mind was barely on his travels even as he moved easily from branch to limb faster than he could move on the ground.
His race had evolved in the trees and that was where he felt most at home. His body’s natural defenses mimicked the colors of each background he traveled through, and his smooth, hairless skin -- without sweat glands -- even masked odors another might sense. His body's natural pallor was a mottled green, a natural camouflage, now naked, to afford the greatest defense. Only his scrip was visible, draped over one shoulder to carry the few items he needed for this journey. The slight crest on his head was tuned to every vibration, keeping him on constant alert for any threat. Every once in awhile he paused, mentally checking his direction. His lanky arms and legs easily maintaining balance high above the jungle floor.
Chahzuu had never traveled here before; had never left his valley home before. Still, he'd seen his way here many times in strange, recurring dreams he'd had since childhood. The dreams had come so often each step, each bush, each tree had been vividly burned into memory.
In his dreams the journey had always been uneventful. That image was now shattered! Something different had happened. He’d faced one of the two Pale Ones.
That had never occurred in his dream . . . at least this early. The Pale Ones always came later.
A small hint of hope rose.
Maybe his path was not set. Maybe it could be changed.
Perhaps I don’t have to die! Or at least be more certain my death will have meaning. Maybe he could save his people and live! It was something he must ponder.
One thing was certain. If he stepped from his path now whatever changes lay ahead, he could do nothing to help his people unless he pressed on.
Chahzuu sprinted lightly through the high foliage as he continued to consider his fate. He’d been set upon this path since he was old enough to realize his dreaming meant something. Once a year, it seemed, he would have the same mystic dream. He was set upon a journey, a quest for the Stone, the Joining, and then the two Pale Ones would appear. At the end, wrought with testing and pain, his inevitable death ended up either a noble sacrifice, saving his people from slavery, or a meaningless gesture.
Over the years he'd resigned himself. It was his Calling, his Khartoose, to see to the safety of his people and to set them on the path of their assigned role as Pontu' Gi; protectors of this world and its people.
Each dream showed both paths, each seeming the same . . . until the end.
To this day, he didn’t know what would trigger one path over the other. Chahzuu had spent many sleepless nights fretting over it. He could find no answer. It seemed his fate was sealed by nothing more than capricious chance, whichever way the Guardians decreed.
I will not have it so! He would fight! Cling to whatever strength was left to ensure his people were protected! Chahzuu picked up his pace akin to his purpose.
Already something is different. What does that portend?
Always, there were two Pale Ones – one kindly and virtuous, also willing to
sacrifice for Chahzuu’s people; the other wicked, sinister, selfish, and determined to enslave his people.
Each path lead to his death, but at least the first path meant something. His people would be spared and become Pontu’ Gi. In the other path they became slaves to a great evil that would consume the world. It was something he refused to consider. Still, in his dream, he didn’t have a choice . . . Or did he?
I’ve already seen one of the Pale Ones. This is different.
This Pale One was about to be devoured by the Birta’ Fah. Had Chahzuu known which of the Pale Ones it was, his decision would have been easier.
It was not part of the dream. Something has changed!
He’d stood on the limb watching the great lizard move forward, considering what he must do. At the last moment he knew he couldn't risk it.
Distracting the great beast had been easy. The Pale One had escaped but clamored up to his very branch! Meeting face to face had been most disturbing; all out of order. And still Chahzuu didn't know which Pale One it was.
If he stayed would it ruin his pattern, his purpose? It must not!
It was safer to continue on the path he knew. Chahzuu had fled, turning back to the trail his dream had shown.
Still, he wondered. What if I had stayed? Can I change the path and still do what must be done?
Back in his homeland he knew the time had come when the dreams had become a nightly occurrence. There had been no trouble. No indication the peace his people had known for ages was coming to an end – calling his people to war -- to their prophesied role as Pontu' Gi. He just knew it was time to start the journey.
Chahzuu was a Chahkzaa, a seer among his people. He learned the legends, received the Pourtha root, dreamed the vision of what must be, of what he must do . . . of his sacrifice.
Chahzuu caught himself and cleared his mind. I must not be distracted! He would deal with changing paths later. For now he must fulfill his first duty. He must enter the chamber and join with the Stone.
Chapter 5
The day had reached twilight. Chahzuu crept along the jungle floor through a narrow canyon. The green canopy was thick overhead but was surprisingly thin at ground level along a small lane leading to his destination. A hard surface was just under the jungle floor, forbidding the larger, thicker plants to grow; evidence there was a path -- a planned way laid down long ago.
He stayed away from that path, finding cover in what growth remained. Chahzuu followed its length leading to a grotto at the end of the canyon.
This was as he’d seen in his dreams. He knew better now though, than to assume all would be as he expected.
The grotto was nearly hidden behind a falling stream of water falling from the higher cliff face. Over the years, the water had carved out a hollow in the cliff face covered in vines and dripping ferns that extended back until it fell into shadow. It sat high enough on the canyon wall that Chahzuu would have to climb a rocky incline to enter. The waterfall fell free over the opening, splashing into a pond at the bottom near where Chahzuu waited. From there the stream flowed with the incline further past him and down through the canyon.
He sat contemplating his way. The dream had given him all the instruction he needed, though now he no longer felt certain in trusting completely. He memorized the way he needed to climb while waiting for darkness to fall.
***
It was time.
Chahzuu took a deep breath and scrambled up the incline. He moved quickly into the mouth of the grotto. All went as expected. He moved close to the left-hand side, hugging the wall and moved behind the falling water and stopped just inside.
He waited.
Nothing.
His senses stretched outward and he began to move, looking for the entrance to the chamber. He kept his hand in contact with the cavern wall.
The grotto seemed larger than from outside. Maybe that was just an illusion from having to move slowly in the dark. Chahzuu continued forward, deeper into the cavern.
He began to notice a subtle change in the quality of light. Complete darkness began to take on definition. Features of the bare rock became apparent as much by sight as by touch, and it grew lighter rather than darker. Then the cavern wall suddenly turned left.
He followed. The faint light grew brighter, details of the cavern, which had now narrowed to a cave, was just as it had been in his dream.
Several more paces ahead and the tunnel again curved toward the left, opening up into a broad chamber. Tiny pin-point sparkles glistened everywhere off the high, smooth walls providing a subdued glow of light emanating from the walls, eliminating shadows.
In the center of the chamber was a narrow stone pedestal about the height of his waist and flattened at the top. Upon it sat the object of his search. Its faint glow reached out to him.
The room was empty. Chahzuu stepped forward.
Directly above, the chamber roof opened to darkness lit by tiny points of light that winked and sparkled. He’d never seen the like.
He looked back to the pedestal. On it lay the Bhrusaala, the Stone. Chahzuu moved to stand over it.
As if sensing his presence, the small spherical crystal, small enough to fit in his palm, glowed with a warm, suffused light. Veins of gray appeared to wriggle just under the surface with an opacity that never changed, giving an appearance of movement, but as Chahzuu watched closely he could see, that in fact, they didn't move.
He reached forward to take up the Stone and start his journey . . .
“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” a voice echoed from the back of the expansive chamber.
Chahzuu glanced up in the direction of the sound. Nothing was there. His hand hovered above the Stone. From where had the voice come? Again, a difference in his dream!
A shadow, a darkness he hadn’t seen, started to form against the far wall. It coalesced into the silhouette of a man, moving closer.
Chahzuu’s eyes widened and his breath quickened. The image formed, solidified into . . . A Pale One! Now he had seen both!
This one was strikingly similar in appearance to the other he’d rescued, but something told him this was the one he dreaded. He had darker hair those intriguing black eyes – just like the other, though this one’s gaze clearly reflected malevolence. A patch of hair also surrounded this one’s chin and cheeks. The other's had been bare.
He was dressed in a sleeveless leather tunic belted at the waist leaving his chest bare, from which emanated a dark glowing – a shadow - that seemed to pulse from deep within the man’s heart. His tan breeches were tucked into calve-high boots that puffed the dust off the cavern floor as he strode forward.
“You don’t want that,” the intruder said, his voice as casual as his steps. “If you take it, it will kill you.”
Chahzuu remained silent, thinking. This was never in any dream! Either he had been deceived since he was a child or something had changed, rending the fabric of his destiny. Whichever it was, he knew he shouldn’t trust this man.
“Who are you?” Chahzuu asked. The man hesitated, tilting his head to one side, considering. “I have many names,” he replied. “The one I like best, however, is Nemesis.”
Chahzuu’s eyes widened.
“Ah,” the man said. “I see you recognize the word.”
Indeed he did. Chahzuu glared and the man’s lips curled into a tight smile.
“I've been waiting for you. We must talk.” The man strode forward until he stood on the opposite side of the pedestal. He glanced down at the still scintillating crystal. “You think that was meant for you?” the Pale One said, nodding to the Stone. “It is,” he said, “if not in the way you think.”
None of this should be happening! Chahzuu thought. He realized death stood right in front of him. All would be lost if he failed.
Chahzuu locked eyes with the Pale One. He snatched forth his hand, grasping for the Stone, realizing it must not fall to this being.
As fast as his grasp had been, he found his hand frozen a mere f
raction above the crystal. Chahzuu tried to move but felt his whole body immobilized. He was still staring into the eyes of the Pale One.
The man’s features had darkened in concentration, and the shadow across his breast was pulsating.
Then the Pale One laughed. “You are as brave as I’d been told, though bravery means nothing to me.”
In horror Chazuu watched as the Pale One reached forward underneath his outstretched hand and took hold of the Stone. His heart sank. He'd failed before he'd even begun!
There was never even a chance! He cried in his mind. The Gods have cursed me. Where did I go wrong?
Chahzuu watched as Nemesis lifted his stone and held it against the shadow of his darkly pulsing breast. The pale glow of the Stone grew dark, changing until it filmed over, taking on a red sheen. The small veins running through transformed from grey to black seemingly writhing threads.
The Pale One laughed. “The Stone is not yours any longer. It's my tool . . . and weapon.” He laughed again, “The Guardians’ grand design has failed even before it begun. Now you, my friend, will give me everything you have and are.”
Chahzuu strained at the power holding him frozen. Nemesis stepped around the pedestal and held the changed Stone up to touch Chahzuu’s temple.
A blinding pain coursed through his body! A flash seared into every cell, pulling it apart, stripping his soul from his physical frame. Chahzuu would have screamed in fiery misery but was still held immobilized.
He fought the pain, fought the stripping of his soul. Found he hadn’t the strength. Felt his life’s essence being drained. His eyes flared wide. The dark pulsing at Nemesis’ breast churned a brilliant orange, deepening in hue to a flame red. It pulsed and grew as Chahzuu’s essence, his memories, his knowledge, was stripped and transferred through the Stone and somehow into Nemesis, giving him power, giving him knowledge -- of Chahzuu's people, his world, of the legends, the hope of his race and their mission as Pontu' Gi.