Chapter 11
First Impressions
Kaya smiled inside her giant oversized Shadow Cloak. She usually only wore it during the day if she had to travel. But now that she had revealed herself to the Travelers, she would wear it all the time, to protect her identity.
The cloak was really just dark fabric draped over an exaggerated frame of her body. It was made from thin strips of interlacing bamboo that had been painstakingly fastened together. She wore it like a backpack, actually over her real backpack, and it was easily a foot taller and a foot and a half wider than she was.
Kaya recalled the lesson from her teacher, “The cloak gives a Wanderer two important things. It provides shelter from the unforgiving sun, and it safeguards the Wanderer from the eyes of the Travelers.” She was currently most thankful for the second benefit.
She couldn’t imagine what the Travelers would do if they saw a woman barely taller than her own mother walking alone in the middle of the desert. Thankfully, Travelers had been exposed to this for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. They had all come to assume a large, powerful man was under the cloak and that’s just what Kaya was counting on.
According to her teacher, her grandmother, her mother, and every other woman in the village, the rest of the journey was easy until they reached the ruins.
Kaya’s primary responsibility for the next four days was to lead the Travelers through the foothills by the easiest route possible. Since she was forbidden to talk to them, all she needed to do was to keep the pace and keep the lead.
“To walk among them is to invite attention,” she recalled from another lesson. “The last thing you want is attention. Do your job and watch for the Signs, or you won’t come home.”
Over the past nine months, Kaya and her teacher had taken five journeys into the desert and to the ruins of the Kingdom. There had been many lessons, most of which ended with the same sentiment of, “...or you won’t come home.”
Kaya had gotten a great deal of praise from her teacher. She was able to find and remember without a map every water cache, every shelter spot, and every route through the foothills. She had been very adept at traveling the Wanderer’s Way down from the Hero’s Chamber and was able to recite each of the Wanderer’s Signs upon request.
Taking a deep breath, her grandmother’s words came to her lips, and she whispered to herself, “For everything there is a first time.” She took another deep breath, turned around and walked away from the Travelers.
Making her way down the dune, she heard their voices. They grew louder as she kept walking, an argument had broken out amongst them, but she didn’t slow her pace.
She heard the loud clattering of their needless equipment, and she knew they were desperately trying to find her. She smiled again.
It was almost first light, and Kaya reached into her bag, removing a handful of mushrooms. They gave off a faint, green glow. Hopefully, the Travelers would recognize the sign and make camp. If not, there was always a backup plan.
Making a small mound of sand with her feet, she placed the glowing handful of fungus on top of it and retreated into the foothills. She was just out of sight when she heard the oldest man say, “We make camp here boys. We have the sign.”
The other two voices quickly responded with, “What sign?!” and, “What are you talking about?!”
Kaya put her mind to recalling the location of the shelter two miles away. Recognizing she was on the right course, she relaxed a little and thought back over the last hour. Did anything she had seen or done qualify as one of the Wanderer’s Signs?
In a whisper to soft to be heard, she worked through the puzzle, “Shadow falls face to face. Two and two make three. A waking dream recalls. Touch the moon. The answers are given. Three become two become one. The sky above reflects the valley below.”
She furled her eyebrows the way she always did when she was thinking about a difficult problem.
“I still have no idea what any of that means. How am I supposed to watch for the Signs when I don’t have any idea what I’m looking for? Touch the moon!” she scoffed to herself in frustration.
As usual, Kaya found the hidden nook without looking at her map, and she made herself right at home in the tiny shelter at the end of a long and winding crevasse. She snacked on her dried fruit and drank from her waterskin.
It had been another long night, and she was tired. As the sun came up, she relaxed against the cool wall of the shelter. Her mind drifted, as it usually did, back to the village. Slipping back into her grandmother’s lap, Kaya’s eyes fluttered. It was as though the story had never been interrupted.
Grandmother stroked her hand over Kaya’s brushed hair and with another kiss to the back of her head, she continued, “Celeste, the Lady of the Light, had been in the marketplace talking with friends when everyone experienced the tragedy. Everyone knew the girls and most people had tears in their eyes. The rest of the day everyone was subdued, there was a feeling of uneasiness throughout the Kingdom, but what could be done?
Things seemed to change after that. The citizens were on guard, waiting for the final tragic event, but it didn’t happen. Over time, people got back to being themselves and life went on.
The only one who noticed the differences was Celeste, but even she couldn’t see how the events had changed her. She had slowly become more distant from her friends and when, after long full lives they eventually died, she didn’t really engage the next generation. She didn’t live among them, she didn’t really re-connect. She spent most of her time alone now, secluded in her high tower wondering how it would all end. Wondering if she could have done anything to prevent the Sentinel Rule from being broken twice.
Because of all this brooding, she occasionally got visitors in her tower. People who were concerned about her, or missed her would sometimes climb the three thousand stairs to the top of her spire. They would knock on her door, and if she was there, they would be invited in. It was always amazing to talk to the Lady. She was someone who had been alive for so long, she had an endless number of things to talk about and share.
To Celeste’s amazement, a little boy had taken a liking to her, and he just loved to climb. He was only five years old, and Celeste was rather surprised the first time he showed up at her door. His little face was flush and the first thing he said to her was, “Hello. May I have a drink of water, please?”
The two soon became friends and by the time the boy was six years old, he had been given a very special gift. Celeste had made him a cup, one that would always be full of water. He took it with him wherever he went, especially up her very long flight of stairs. With this gift came a nickname and from then on the boy was simply called “Cups” by everyone, including Celeste.
Cups was a very curious little boy and sometimes when he came to visit, if Celeste wasn’t home, he would rummage through her things. He never damaged anything, he was only looking for whatever a six-year-old boy looks for to entertain himself. She knew he wasn't mischievous, but she did worry he might hurt himself while she wasn’t there.
“After all,” she thought, “the heavy sculptures and other works of art in my room were never intended to be played with by a child.”
After giving the issue careful consideration, she focused her abilities on the handle of her door.
“Now then,” she said, feeling pleased with her solution. “If my little friend comes to visit and I’m not home, he’ll just fall asleep if he touches the handle. Besides, a nap is a wise decision after such a long climb.”
Three months later, Celeste was helping in the fields. She was trying to re-connect, trying to make new friends, when it happened. Cups had climbed the long flight of stairs to the top of the tower and knocked on her door, but no one was home. He remembered their talk about not entering her chamber when she wasn’t home, but he was tired after his long climb. He thou
ght it would be all right if he just went in and sat in the big, comfortable chair until Celeste got home.
When he touched the handle, he became very drowsy. With a giant yawn, he stepped backward and stumbled down several stairs until he finally sat down. Resting his back against the wall, he yawned again, and his eyelids got heavier. He leaned forward, resting his head on one arm. He had almost set his cup down on the step above him when he fell asleep. The small cup slipped from his little hand and rang out against the stone. The sound of it made his hand flinch, and he knocked the cup over.
The more water that came out, the faster it filled up. The cup that was never empty…Well, poor little Cups couldn’t wake up to fix the problem, and since the cup was on the step above his head, he drowned.”
Kaya was crying in her grandmother’s lap. There were no sobs, just tears. The river Cups always seemed like such a blessing.
“For the people of the Kingdom and the people of the village, time stopped. The little boy’s death and everything leading up to it was replayed from two different perspectives.
When it was over, Celeste fell to her knees, and the ground began to shake. Giant paving stones popped up from their permanent resting places. Massive stone archways that stood for centuries turned to sand and the tower itself, the very Beacon of Hope, cracked at its base and began falling toward the mountains. Children, husbands, wives, hopes, dreams, and the Kingdom itself were quickly engulfed in a rising plume of dust and debris.
The people of the village watched through their visions as the towering spire crumbled like frail pottery across the landscape. The only remaining piece, the very tip itself, came to rest high in the foothills to the north.
The screams of a hundred thousand souls were quieted within seconds, and all those who lived in the Kingdom, the City of Light, the City of Hope were abandoning the City, or they were already dead.
Fifty bruised and battered souls gathered outside the broken walls of the city, they were the only survivors. For the first time in their lives, they were afraid. With tear streaked faces and dirty hands they inventoried their supplies, said their goodbyes to the land that had been their home for generations and set out on a hopeless journey across an endless desert.
Twelve men and three women survived. They gathered only one time as a group outside the desert Wastelands. They knew their knowledge and abilities would make them outcasts if they stayed together. Separately they thought they might be able to start new lives and to go relatively unnoticed in the world. Attention was the last thing they wanted.
Not that any of the survivors would have noticed, but the Defender’s Portal appeared two weeks later in what remained of the center section of the outer wall. The village knows what that’s for and one day you’ll learn too.”
Kaya awoke with a start. She was sweaty and had been crying in her sleep. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, got to her knees and crawled out of the little shelter. She took a long drink from her waterskin and started preparing to leave.
It was late afternoon, and she wanted to make sure she was visible just before the sun had set. They had a lot of ground to cover tonight, and she didn’t want to be late.