The trek along the Benden River meandered for another four uneventful days. The nuisances began to wane upon the group: bland food at every meal, increasingly warm temperatures (even during the night), the ever-present threat of rain, and rocky ground for sleeping. At the end of the fourth day, the group gathered for their typical boring meal of unseasoned bony fish and green berries. While the others chowed, Rose hovered over the map. Her atypical attention to the scroll prompted Talon’s question, “Rose, is there something wrong? You’re looking at that map like you just realized we’re traveling in the completely wrong direction.”
Rose said nothing.
“We traveling in the correct direction, right?” queried Talon with a sudden urgency.
“Ah … oh … mm … what did you say? I was distracted,” admitted Rose. Then realizing she did hear the question, she continued, “Oh, yes, we are traveling in the right direction.” Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, except Rose, of course. “I am wondering why this river changes names, and further, why didn’t I notice this earlier?”
“What do you mean, ‘changes names’?” asked Daks. “This is Benden River, we follow into the Expanse where we will enter Verve Valley. We follow the river and then collect sand from the mouth of Dry River as it flows into the Glass Sea. What’s so confusing about that?”
The other looked blankly at Daks. Unbeknownst to himself, he stated the contradiction that currently vexed Rose.
“What, why is everyone looking at me like that?”
“Daks,” said Willow, “did you hear what you just said? We ‘follow the Benden River’ until we ‘collect sand from the mouth of Dry River.’ At some point, ‘Benden’ becomes ‘Dry.’”
Daks responded, “That’s peculiar. Why didn’t Rose mention that? She’s always staring at that map.”
“She did,” answered Willow calmly.
“Oh,” said Daks. “Is there anything else I’ve been missing?”
“Probably,” replied Rose. Daks frowned at her hasty assessment. “The real questions, however, is why does the river change names. This seems odd to me. Just after the river’s bend toward the Glass Sea, the name is switched. It almost looks like the river changes names as it enters the Expanse. Why does it need a new name? What happens in the Verve Valley that, somehow, necessitates a name change?”
The others responded with silence.
Finally, Talon posed a quasi-answer, “Let’s just find out when we get there.”
“Fantastic, Talon,” said Daks, “We can add it to our jarful of unanswered questions. This trip creates more questions than it answers.”
The next afternoon, Rose announced to the group, “I think we are here.”
“Where is here?” asked Talon.
“Yea,” agreed Daks, “because here looks like there and there and even over there.” As he spoke, Daks pointed sarcastically into the distance, which actually looked identical to their current location.
Rose ignored the ever-needling Daks. “We are at the bend in the river.” She pointed toward the river’s unnatural right angle turn. The other nodded in agreement; the “bend in the river” offered little excitement for the traveling troupe, other than reaching another landmark.
The group traveled along the river’s edge for the remainder of the day. In the late afternoon, they passed the ‘corner’ of the river and continued walking without fanfare. As the evening approached, the group looked for a place to spend the night. They typically stayed immediately next to the water, but on this late afternoon, Willow suggested the sleep atop a nearby hill. “It looks like lush grass. I am a little tired of sleeping on roots and rocks. For one night, I think a nice patch of soft, green grass will make us all feel better.” The other, initially, began to protest because walking up the hill meant more work than just plopping their supplies at their present location, but the younger girl persuaded them with a convincing argument: not only did the hill offer the enticement of soft grass; it likely provided a cool breeze for the increasingly warm nights. After a day of sweating, the potential for a cool evening tantalized the travelers.
“Just this once,” murmured Daks, who more than anyone wanted a comfortable place to sleep. “Walking that hill gets us no closer to the Glass Sea.”
“Well, you can stay here,” snapped Rose. “We’re getting some sleep tonight.” Daks said nothing more and gleefully joined the others in the extra walking. Of course, he never acknowledged his delight.
Rose woke early the next morning; she never slept late. Even with the soft grass for a bed and comfortable temperature, she work just before dawn – as always. On the trip, she typically rousted the others, who might sleep into mid-morning before waking on their own, except, for Willow of course. She is the exception to every expectation, thought Rose on numerous occasions. There is something strange, but actually very likable, about that girl. Rose watched for the morning sunrise, as she did on most mornings. Willow often joined her in the quiet moments of reflection, especially as they two girls became better acquainted. On this morning, as the older girl watched the yellow sun crest over the horizon, her younger companion nestled quietly to her side. They both appreciated the quiet calm of morning. Due to the flat landscape, the hill on which they slept provided an amazing vantage from which to gaze upon the vista. Towering above its surrounding and bald upon it top, except for the soft grass, the hill provided a seldom-experienced unobstructed view of the morning light slowly escaping the obscurity of night. Every conceivable shade of orange, yellow, and red reflected on the glistening green landscape. Amazing. Stunning. The Creator. Rose said nothing, however, knowing words only detracted from the magnificent site.
As the gradually climbed into the morning sky, Willow gently tapped Rose on the shoulder and pointed to opposite – the direction in which they needed to travel. Willow extended finger directed her companion’s attention to another vista, but said nothing. Rose gaped as she looked in the direction of Willow’s finger. Apparently hidden by the darkness of the previous evening, Rose looked upon a landscape bursting forth with the vibrancy of spring’s renew life – flowering trees, blossoming shrubs, and wildflowers galore. As she gazed further toward the horizon, however, the landscape gradually changed toward yellow, tan, and brown hues – the colors of decay. For no apparent reason, the land radically changed from glistening green to rancid russet. The sun-sculptor gaped with the same awe she displayed at the sunrise, but for vastly different reasons.
“That,” said Willow finally interrupting the pregnant silence, “is an example of the marring.”
“Tell me, again,’ whispered Rose, “what is the marring?”
“The marring refers to things which do not follow the way. Remember, the way speaks to how things should be. The marring refers to destruction of the way. I guess you cannot understand the marring, unless you first understand the way. Do you see the beautiful landscape? It’s full of life and beauty. A rainbow of colors adorns the landscape. The plants are growing, bursting forth with the newness of spring. These things speak to the way. Now, do you see the how the landscape changes in the distance? Instead of life, the land loses all vibrancy and gradually replaces the beauty of life with signs of death. That, Rose, is what marring looks like.”
“I think I understand,” whispered the older girl.
“With that image before, how could you not understand? I cannot imagine a more pronounced display of the marring and the way.”
“Why does it change like that?” asked Rose.
“I was going to ask you the same question.”
The girls continued to look upon the unusual vista before them: a land lush with the renewed life of spring that gradually, but starkly, transforms into the land void of all things living. With two days of travel, the JRB could traverse paradise and enter an abyss. That must be the Expanse, thought Rose. I wondered since I first saw the map
what the Expanse might look like. I envisioned terrible things, but nothing that terrible, and after entering that region, we are supposed to enter the Verve Valley. How can a valley reside in that forsaken place? There is something evil about that land. The land appears devoid of all life and all goodness – and we must travel through it to reach our destination. When I look at beautiful things, like the sunrise this morning, I often remember the works of the Creator. When I look upon that awfulness, I almost forget about the Creator. Why would the Creator make something so terrible? What is the benefit of allowing something so ghastly to exist? That land can serve no purpose, at least from my perspective. What good can come from something so miserable and void of life?
“Do you believe in the Creator?” asked Rose.
“I never heard of a creator until you mentioned it.”
“Really? Then, how did you think everything got here?”
“Just was,” said Willow. “Like I said, I never thought about it. Everything was here, just like it’s always been.”
“Oh,” said Rose. “Now that I mentioned it, do you think there is a creator? Do you think this is someone who crafted Centage into the place we see today?”
“Not really.”
“What about the beauty of the sunset this morning? It was magnificent! Have you ever seen anything more awe-inspiring than the glistening sun slipping over the horizon into the morning sky?”
“That was beautiful,” answered Willow.
“Perhaps your way is the same as my Creator,” offered Rose.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
Willow responded, “Because if there was ‘the Creator,’ how do you explain the marring. Look on the horizon, opposite the one where the sun came up this morning. The marring exists. That landscape proves it. You cannot deny it. Why did your ‘Creator’ create such an awful, lifeless place? I can almost smell the decay from here. It stinks. When I look at that land and smell its death, I know there is no such thing as a creator.”
Willow paused to allow her companion to respond, but Rose said nothing. She had nothing to say.
The younger girl continued, “My mother used to say: ‘We have the power to follow the way and overcome the marring. The choice is ours to make each and every day.’ She never said anything about a creator who designed Centage. Your ‘Creator’ sounds like an excuse to enjoy beauty but ignore everything else. I don’t think that’s right.”
For an instant, Rose detested the peculiar flesh-weaver with long golden hair and ashen skin. She hated the eleven year-old who spoke like an elderly sage. Then, the moment passed, and the disdain for her companion faded. Rose believed in a Creator, but she wondered why she never learned more about this person or being or thing who fashioned her world. Even though Willow ridiculed her belief, her faith in the Creator waivered not, but presently, she felt more certainty in her questions than in her answers.
“How did you ever hear of the Creator?” asked Willow, hoping to interrupt the awkward silence. “What make you think there really is someone or something capable of raising a mountain or feathering a bird?”
Rose answered, “I just always knew. Some things a person knows, and that is one of them.”
“Do you still believe in a Creator, even after see the marring?”
“That doesn’t change my mind.”
“Then how do you explain it? Why would a creator mar its creation? That makes no sense to me.”
“Me either,” admitted Rose.
Daks interrupted their conversation. He groggily staggered over to the girls and stared blankly at the radically transforming landscape. He shook his head from side-to-side and muttered an aside, “Of course that’s direction we are traveling. That place makes a barren wasteland seem like its teeming with life. Oh well, what else should I expect for the JRB?”
“Do you believe in the Creator?” Rose directed her question toward Daks.
“I guess,” said Daks.
“You guess?” answered Rose. “What kind of an answer is that?”
“It’s my answer,” snapped Daks. “I am just not sure that the creator makes much difference in my life. Is my life any different whether or not there is a creator? No, I don’t think so. Does a creator help become a better leather-worker? No, I don’t think so. Is a creator going to help us complete this quest? Once again – am I sensing a pattern – no, I don’t think so. So, tell me, what does it matter whether or not there something that made our land? It makes no difference to me. It changes nothing about my life. I occupy myself with things that can make a difference, things that can do something. The creator doesn’t do anything for me right, so why do I care about it?”
Rose, once again, said nothing. The ever-witty girl whose quick-tongue paralleled her keen analytic nature settled for muteness. The Creator makes sense to me, thought Rose. I can’t understand what Willow and Daks don’t understand. Look at the beauty in this world. Who could deny that something ordained it? Something or someone injected splendor into Centage. From all my time as a sun-sculptor apprentice, I learned that magnificence never happens by accident. For me to form light into something grand, it requires many hours of concentration. Without attention to detail, hours of patience, training in skills, and an eye for beauty, every product I make is, at best, ordinary. If it takes much intentionality on my part to form something elegant, how could I expect happenstance to chance upon this morning’s breath-taking sunrise? If only I could express this thought to my companions, but for some reason, I can’t transform this thought into intelligible words.
At that moment, Talon emerged from his slumber and entered the conversation, ‘What’s going on?” Daks pointed toward their desolate land that lies directly in their path. “Oh, I suppose that land is the Expanse – been wondering how that might appear. Now I know, ghastly, but look at the vista that comes before it. The land is exquisite. The newness of spring reminds me of a newborn baby; there is something transcendent about new life.”
“So, Talon,” began Willow, “do you believe in a creator?”
“Of course, I do. I thought everyone believed that.”
“Well, not really,” answered Willow. “My mother did not.”
“Oh, her loss, I suppose,” said Talon.
“Why do you believe in a creator?” queried the girl with a measure of genuine curiosity.
“Because I can’t believe otherwise,” said Talon. “As a sun-sculptor, I know nothing comes from nothing, and something only comes from something. Centage is something, so it had to come from something, right?”
“Sophisticated,” answered Daks dismissively.
“Do you …” began Willow.
“Enough,” said Talon. “No more conversation trying to decide whether the sun is warm, at least for now. We lost some time last night climbing this hill, and we need to quick-time pack our things and get moving. The Glass Sea gets no closer with our philosophizing about the obvious. At least we know the answer to one question.”
“What question is that?” asked Rose.
“We know why Benden River changes its name to Dry River. Look to the horizon. The water gradually disappears from the riverbed. In the far distance, I can see the outline of a river panorama but not the reflection off the water – no reflection, no water. The Benden River, for some reason that I assume we will find out very soon, loses its water and turns dry. At least then, we can walk on the ‘river’ than next to it. Now, let’s start packing so we can start moving so we can start learning how this river loses its water.”
The others deferred to Talon. Besides, they, like him, were ready for the challenges that waited in the Expanse. They, like him, wondered at the mysteries of Verve Valley – the belt along the waterless river.
14 VALLEY OF THE DISINHERITED