Path-finder's Tale Week 23

4.Time passed. Time always passed, an unstoppable movement to some inevitable, unknown destination. The world went on, caring little for individual stories. Caring little for one lone traveller adrift in the vast wilderness, he himself bound on a journey he could not stop. The leaves were turning yellow again. The air started to smell of dried grass and smoke and future snow. The mornings were foggy and cool, although not cold yet. Rain fell more and more often, lasting for days and turning the until then bright world into something formless and grey.

A year had passed since Eagle had last seen the desert. At times, he could barely remember it, that strange land of sand and sun, of harsh rules and endless rituals. The place had been his home for years. Now it was just a dream, slowly fading day by day.

The faces of the people he had once known so well – Rashed and Malna, Tar and Adar, Rhea and Lusa – were now losing their features. There would come a time when he would no longer be able to remember them. That had been the life of Kassir, Light-tender of the Desert Gods. But Kassir was dead. He was Eagle the wanderer now, and the endless road was all he knew.

In those days, a change came over him. It started soon after his stay in the cave that first winter. He became less frightened, less uncertain of his place in the world. He had the distinct feeling that he was exactly where he should have been. It was no accident he was a Light-tender and no accident he was now in the World Without. And he was going to make the most of it.

In a move that would have scandalized Adar – if he still cared about what Eagle did – he decided to no longer reject the World Without – or to avoid its people. He had helped the people of the desert. Now that he was in the World Without, he would help its inhabitants, too. He had the gifts for it, after all.

It could be practical, too. People could be very grateful when they were helped. They paid generously for his services. They gave food and clothes and shelter whenever he felt like stopping. They allowed him to survive.

The mountains were behind him now. The region was hilly once more. There were not that many woods, though. The trees there were fruit trees – laden with apples and pears and quinces. The slopes of some of the hills were used as vineyards. Others had corn crops. There were many villages and even a town or two here and there.

He was now in the region known as the Bountiful Gardens. In the World Without, it was considered a country in its own right. It was also one of the leading trading places, being always in a friendly rivalry with the Merchants’ Citadel. The fertile soil and the gentle weather made it easy for plenty of things to grow. No one starved in the Bountiful Gardens and what they had they could easily spare to travellers.

It was a golden evening with autumn haze and gossamer. Eagle walked through the long grass. There was a village nearby, he knew. He could hear the rumour of life somewhere up ahead. He quickened his pace. He was longing for company that evening.

As he walked, he thought he could hear something else close by. He frowned. Someone was sobbing. A child, he was sure of that. It came from somewhere to his right, in one of the cornfields. He changed direction. It was hard to find a path in the confusing labyrinth of the cornfield. But he had the crying to guide him. It was increasing in volume and becoming more desperate. He was grateful that whoever it was had not moved. They would have been more difficult to find otherwise.

He turned a corner and spotted a small girl sitting in the grass, staring morosely at the ground. She could not have been older than ten. She looked like one of the desert dwellers, with long golden hair and green eyes.

“Hello,” Eagle greeted brightly. “Why are you crying?”

Her head snapped up at his voice. Her eyes narrowed. Strangers might have been common in the region, but they were also easily recognisable. And Eagle, with his weather-beaten appearance must have been quite a sight to the already frightened girl. He hastened to put her at ease.

“There’s no reason for you to be frightened,” he said heartily. “I do not want to hurt you. I am not in the habit of eating children, you know. My name is Eagle, by the way. What is yours?”

The girl’s frown deepened, but she looked less tense.

“Your name is strange,” she accused.

Eagle grinned.

“I like it strange. What about you? What sort of name do you have?”

“I am Kira,” the girl answered, and her face fell again. “I am lost,” she added in a small voice.

Eagle moved closer to her.

“What do you mean, lost? Lost from where?”

“Home,” Kira sniffled. “Apple Orchard Village. I got lost in the field. I think I walked quite far. I don’t know where home is anymore. Quite a long way away, I suppose.”

Eagle was sure Kira had been walking in circles and lost her sense of direction. Apple Orchard Village had to be close by. He reached out for the girl’s hand.

“Come on,” he told her kindly. “I will take you to your village.”

Kira eyed him suspiciously.

“But you don’t know where it is,” she pointed out. “You have never been there – have you?”

“Well, no,” Eagle admitted easily. “But we’re bound to get there sooner or later. Now, come along. It is getting late. You do not want to remain here after dark, do you?”

Kira’s eyes widened at the mention of night coming soon. Her mistrust of Eagle forgotten, she sprang up, ready to follow the stranger wherever he led. Eagle took her by the hand, and they began walking. His pace was slower than usual so that Kira could keep up without tiring too much.

“Are you here for the contest?” Kira asked at some point.

Eagle glanced at her curiously.

“Contest?”

“The archery contest. Every year, we have one. The winner gets two boxes of our best apples. If you sell those, you make a fortune. I wouldn’t sell them, though. I’d keep them all to myself.”

Eagle chuckled. He had heard many things about the fruits that grew in the Bountiful Garden. Sometimes – very rarely, the people of the desert managed to get their hands on a few crates. They were highly sought out but quite expensive. He had only tasted them once. If he won the two crates, he could sell one of them and have enough food to keep him happy for a long while.

“I think I should enter the contest, then,” he said cheerfully. “I could always do with some of your apples.”

Kira did not smile back. Her eyes were on the ground and her lips were trembling.

“If you can find home,” she said morosely. “It could be quite far.”

Eagle smiled reassuringly.

“Don’t worry. I reckon it’s right around the corner.”

The rumour of the village was growing louder in Eagle’s ears. Soon they would be there, and he would receive a hearty welcome – especially since he was accompanied by the lost Kira. And in the next days he had a contest and two crates of fresh apples to look forward to.

***

Apple Orchard Village was a friendly, carefree place. It welcomed Eagle with open arms and not only because he brought the missing Kira back home. Apparently, it was good luck to have strangers at the archery contest. It meant the village would have a good harvest for ten years to come.

As the name suggested, the main occupation of the villagers was growing apples. There was not a single garden that did not have at least five different kinds of apple trees. Now that it was autumn, the smell of ripe apples filled the air. Eagle could see them hanging from the branches, red and yellow, big and small, all very enticing. It was a peaceful place, a land that knew no cares and no danger. And suddenly he realised that he did not want to leave it too soon. He could not bear resuming his journey with the days growing ever colder after he had seen Apple Orchard Village.

“Are you here for the archery contest?” Kira’s father asked, handing him a mug of fresh cider as a reward for bringing back his wayward daughter.

“Yes,” he answered quickly. “Only… not just that. I am looking for a place to stop for the winter. Last year, I spent it in a cave in the mountains. It was not exactly an easy time for me… I was thinking… it would be safer if I stopped in a village.”

It was a dangerous thing to ask. Eagle knew how great the risks were. The longer he stayed in a place, the higher the chance that people would discover something was different with him. It would mean he could not let his guard down and say and do something he should not. It would mean trusting the people of the World Without entirely and he was not sure he was truly ready for that.

At the same time, he found himself weary beyond imagination. It was more than physical exhaustion. It was a weariness of the soul, brought on by an endless stream of days, one the same as the others, as he walked on and on without anyone knowing or caring. Just this once, he wanted something else. He wanted companionship, if only for a short while. He wanted to wake up in the morning and know there was no need to go anywhere that day. He wanted to feel safe – just this once.

As these thoughts passed through Eagle’s mind, he noticed Kira’s father surveying him with a half-concerned, half-sympathetic gaze. He looked away. Pity was never an emotion he was comfortable with. He had half a mind to take back his request.

It was Kira who intervened then. She walked towards Eagle and took his hand in her small one. Any terror she might have felt at the sight of the stranger in the cornfield, she had forgotten it completely.

“Eagle can stay with us, can he not, father? He helped me, after all. He found home, even though it was so far away. He should stay with us.”

Eagle was ready to protest that it was no longer necessary. The more he thought about it, the more frightened he became of staying. But Kira’s father interrupted him. He had surely guessed more about Eagle than he let on. He must have understood how much he was longing to stay, even when he was thinking he should not.

“Of course he can stay,” he said firmly. “It does not do for people to wander all alone in the winter months. The lands here might have a warmer climate than the mountains, but in winter the cold can still bite. We cannot allow someone to plod about in the snow and the cold – not when we have warmth enough to spare.”

He looked at Eagle kindly and the young man looked away, his throat unexpectedly tight. He was glad, though, that no matter where he was – in the World Without or in the desert – good people still existed. And that made his endless journeying so much more worthwhile.

***

If Eagle had any fears that the rest of the villagers might have some trouble in accepting him as a long-term guest, it all vanished after his victory in the archery contest. Apparently, if a stranger taking part in the contest meant good luck, one actually winning it was even better. The people went out of their way to make their guest welcome and comfortable.

Had he really wanted it, he could have spent the winter in complete idleness. The villagers would have been content to give him whatever he needed for free. But over the years Eagle had become someone who had to work for his comforts if he wanted to truly enjoy them. He only allowed himself two days of rest, then told the villagers he was willing to take on any odd jobs they needed done.

Winter promised to be a mild one. There would be some snow, but not enough to make the days unbearable. Just enough to make the land fairer. During that time, Eagle was to discover a new tradition. In many places from the World Without, people held a festival in high winter. They called it the Midwinter Feast, and they considered it a time suitable for merrymaking.

The idea was rather confusing for Eagle. The people of the desert rarely celebrated. They had days dedicated to the Desert Gods, of course, but these were solemn occasions. They did not sing and dance and drink. They sat in quiet contemplation and offered tributes to the Gods. The attitude of those from the World Without was new and puzzling.

“What is the reason for this celebration?” he asked Kira’s father.

The man looked at a loss.

“I suppose it has to do with light,” came the answer after a while. “The days get longer after Midwinter. It is a sign of spring coming, of everything waking up and growing again. I think that is a good enough reason to make merry, don’t you?”

And Eagle, recalling his previous winter and how, at times, he had feared it would never come to an end, could finally understand. The first proof of returning life was indeed cause for celebration.

The people from Apple Orchard Village – the people all over the Bountiful Gardens, Eagle suspected – were a merry sort. They loved life. And they showed their love keenly, especially during the Midwinter celebrations. They built great bonfires to dance around and jump over. They drank cider and ate baked apples. They sat around the fire and told stories of distant lands and long-gone days.

To Eagle’s surprise, he found himself taking part in the celebrations wholeheartedly. He was not usually like this. He did not usually involve himself in other people’s joys, preferring the side-lines, conscious of the isolation brought by his status. But he was not a Light-tender in the World Without. And he was surely allowed some joy. At any rate, the people of Apple Orchard Village were willing to give him all the joy he needed. They were ready to be his family, if only for a short time.

Late that night, after he got tired of dancing and drinking, Eagle went to listen to the stories told at one of the bonfires. It reminded him keenly of the time he had travelled with the caravan to the Temple of the Sun Gods. More than anything, it reminded him of Run. He wondered if Run had ever reached Apple Orchard Village. It was a place he would have loved. For some time, Eagle was so deep in his own melancholy that he forgot to listen properly to the tales being told. He shook himself and struggled to pay attention. He could learn much about the World Without from fireside stories. One thing struck him as odd. In all the stories – even the ancient ones – the City of White Marble was mentioned. That should not have been surprising in itself. After all, the City of White Marble was a powerful symbol of the World Without. But why were there no stories from before the city was built?

“When was the City of White Marble built?” he asked at one point. “And who built it?”

The people around the fire were silent for a long time. It was a worrying, breathless silence and Eagle was beginning to be afraid his question might have broken some unknown taboo. But his fears proved groundless when, one by one, the people began to chuckle.

“You must be from quite far away, laddie,” one of the storytellers commented.

Eagle bristled as he always did when asked about his home.

“Well, what of it?”

The other man shook his head, to show he meant no offence by it.

“Most of the people from this part of the world already know the answer to your question. Here, it is said that the City of White Marble was built at the dawn of time. Some say there would be no world, had it not been for the City of White Marble.”

Eagle did not know what to say to that. He had been taught differently during his time in the desert. His people believed that when the Desert Gods made the world, it was all one enormous field of sand. Only later, demons came with temptations like green valleys and cool woods and milder weather. And such demons must have built the City of White Marble.

Of course, so many things had happened since Eagle had left his homeland and many of his former beliefs had been put to the test in the World Without. And there were things the priests claimed that even the desert people had a hard time believing. Run certainly had not believed. But he was dead – an accident, and yet Eagle could not help remembering how Run had been the first to die on that journey. Some people would call it a sign. Rhea surely must have thought that. But she had her own reasons for her staunch belief in the Desert Gods.

The memory of those lost in the life he had left behind, of those whose names he was not allowed to utter, brought a new melancholy to Eagle. Suddenly, the joy of Midwinter’s Night could no longer reach him. He stared gloomily at the red flames, feeling his past burning behind him. He was a man without a life – with no past and no future. He went here and there in an unknown world and left only small forgettable traces behind – like the ashes of a bonfire. In the midst of all that celebration, he wished he could howl his pain at the dispassionate sky like some wounded creature.

5.Eagle left Apple Orchard Village one early spring morning, when small flowers were beginning to show their shy heads amid the newly sprung blades of grass. People were sorry to see him go. They had grown fond of the enigmatic young man. He had helped them when they had asked it of him, and he was friendly, if a little too quiet at times. They quickly began to consider him an important part of their village and had hoped he would remain. But, when spring came, he was dead set on continuing his journey.

Kira, most of all, was quite saddened by the parting. She had found in Eagle a tolerant playmate and a surrogate older brother. Eagle, remembering his own siblings and how he had been taken from them too soon, readily fell into that role.

“I wish you weren’t leaving,” Kira said morosely on the day of his departure. “Or, at least I wish you were taking me with you. Won’t you? I’m quite fond of adventures.”

Eagle shook his head sadly.

“Life on the road is not easy. And I won’t be coming this way again. How would you go back?”

Kira frowned. She was young enough to find being away from home for more than a few hours inconceivable.

“Why won’t you come back, though? I thought you liked it here.”

Eagle sighed. He had no idea how to explain his mind to a child.

“I have never been happier than in this village. But I cannot stay. The road is calling me, Kira. I must answer its summons. I always do.”

Kira looked thoughtful, trying to make sense of Eagle’s strange words.

“I wish I knew how that was,” she said gloomily.

But Eagle shook his head.

“No, you do not. It is not pleasant knowledge. Take care, Kira. In many ways, this village is all you need.”

It took some time for him to get used to being on the road again. It had been months since he had to go to sleep under the empty sky and wake up alone. But, in many ways, he was relieved. He no longer had to watch himself and hide who he was. He had no secrets from the wilderness. The road might rob him of companionship, but it offered him a sense of freedom extremely precious to someone like him. He felt as if the entire world was his, and he loved it all the more for it.

There were plenty of villages in his path, for the lands of the Bountiful Gardens stretched on for miles before him. Yet he rarely stopped, preferring to sleep under the starry sky and find his own food. After months cooped up in Apple Orchard Village, he found he only wanted the wild beasts for company – for a while, at least.

Spring in the Bountiful Garden was a thing to behold. Flowers lay at his feet and the fruit trees were all in bloom. The humming of bees was a constant song. The sun shone all the time, save during a rainfall or two every few days. And in every dwelling place that Eagle passed, the people were dressed for celebration.

He was not the only traveller on the road. He met plenty of people, going this way and that in the Bountiful Gardens, or heading for the Merchants’ Citadel on business and, once, a family coming from the City of White Marble. Travellers in those parts accepted each other without questions. Eagle was often greeted as a long-lost friend. Men spending endless days on the road tended to feel a kinship towards those that did the same.

As time passed, the villages got scarcer. In many places, they were replaced by towns. Eagle avoided those. When he thought of towns, he was irrationally afraid. He shuddered at the image of so many people at close quarters. It was the fear of the lonely traveller – that being among too many of his kind would cause him to lose himself somehow.

There was one place, however, that he would not be able to avoid, although he had made up his mind not to spend the night there. It was the Border Fortress, on the edge of the Bountiful Gardens. Everyone passing that way had to present themselves to the guards. It was only a formality. Everyone was allowed through. But it spoke of a time when there was trouble in the north, and it puzzled Eagle.

It took Eagle two weeks to reach the Border Fortress. It stood there, grey and menacing, surrounded by forbidding walls. Beyond them, Eagle could glimpse sharp turrets. It had to be terribly confining to live in such a place. He knew that was the way of cities in the World Without. They surrounded themselves with walls. To someone used to the vast open spaces of the desert, and the empty roads where no man walked, the notion was terrifying. Unable to control his panic, he began to wonder what would happen if he did not stop to declare himself, simply walking on. Probably no one would stop him. But he was a stranger in those parts, and strangers had to be mindful of their hosts’ traditions. He did not want to offend anyone.

As he approached the fortress, he realised just how massive it was. It stretched on, like it would never end. Only the Temple of the Sun Gods could compare. But no one lived there, save for the priests. The Border Fortress, however, was inhabited by regular people. Here they lived and loved and died, some never crossing its gates. It was a world within a world.

Night was upon them when he went through the fortress gates. There was no one nearby, but Eagle could make out a commotion in the distance. It was nothing threatening, just normal evening noises. Still, they made him feel a little overwhelmed.

The guard who took charge of him was younger than him. He looked bored. Eagle was probably the last he would see that day, and he longed to get home to a warm meal and a bed. Well, the quicker he finished, the happier Eagle would be.

“Welcome, stranger,” the guard greeted. “You are not from the Bountiful Gardens, I take it.”

“I am not. I am from the desert. I am called Eagle.”

The young man wrote something in his big register, then looked up. There was a flash of curiosity in his eyes.

“We do not see many from the desert in these parts.”

“Not many reach these parts,” Eagle stated flatly.

His tone invited no further confidences. He had never mentioned being in exile – not since Tak had guessed it. Others might have figured it out, too, but thought it tactless to mention it. Eagle preferred it that way.

“And where are you bound for, may I ask?”

Eagle hesitated. Until then, he had given only vague answers and the people had accepted that he was heading north and no more. But the guard was bound to keep asking until he got a clearer location.

“I am heading for the City of White Marble.”

Later that night, when he was far from the Border Fortress, sitting by a small fire near a river, Eagle marvelled at his answer. At first, he knew it was the easiest he could give. So many people were bound that way, there would be no further questions asked. But now, he was beginning to wonder. He was going northwards, after all. Why not stop at the City of White Marble?

Copyright Simina Lungu 2022