Passing the guard towers at the entrance, Grewen led the group down the long ramp, which rotated around the perimeter of the city. Easily, twice the width of Grewen, the ramp and its railing were designed for simplicity and functionality, as well as a subtle elegance.
In spite of its width, Brimmelle struggled with the ramp’s height and fell twice from disorientation. During one of his bouts, he fell and landed against the trim of the walkway. Taking advantage of the situation, he pulled out the cloth-covered dagger and dropped it over the edge. The Fir watched Varacon unravel from the cloth and plummet to the muddy fields below as his stomach rolled and his head spun from the height. The deed was done. The dagger would be lost forever.
Bryus watched Brimmelle just lay on the ramp and stare down at the fields below. “Stand up, you old fool, and keep your feet about you.”
Avanda eventually assisted Fir Brimmelle to his feet and then the rest of his descent down the ramp.
The base to the entire lower ramp rested on a pontoon-style bamboo platform that floated in a wide and very deep water-filled ditch among the city’s farms. This ditch had been dug out in a perfect circle around the city and through the cavern-filled farms and fields so that the ramp could be rotated in order to line up with any of the pyramid ramps above them. A dirt path followed the exterior side of the ditch, as horizontal bars were embedded in the base of the ramp every few yards. It appeared to take hundreds of Ov’Unday to work together and push these bars in order to rotate the ramp to a new pyramid.
The fields reached back miles from the city toward the dull cavern walls. Various crops were in season, while other land was being plowed and seeded. Trenches had been carved out to carry water from the underground river into the fields to water the land.
“Did you have any issues obtaining permission for us to enter?” Thorik asked Grewen as he gazed out at the festive city below them.
“No. I have been here before. Nums are not feared, and Bryus looks too old to cause much trouble, even for a human. Had he been a Del’Unday, we surely would have been rejected.”
As the travelers made the long walk down, they observed the city and its surroundings. The city itself was a marvel to behold. Grand bamboo towers rose hundreds of feet in the air, several even extended above the desert floor in the center of the opening. Walkways between them resembled branches while bridges between the islands contained creative open and covered baboon designs.
Bright arrays of light beamed out of well-planned holes within the towers, coating the subterranean fields with the rich sunlight they needed. Entering through openings above the desert surface, the tallest towers had been designed to capture the sun’s rays and send them down the center of the large shafts below the desert floor before dispersing them to the city’s needs.
Farther away from the sinkhole opening, fewer plants existed. The far walls of the sinkhole were bare, aside from a littering of cave holes, some carrying water into the city area, some carrying the water out. Many of the caves did neither.
The aroma of freshly baked goods and sweet fruits began to fill the air. Low pitched water-chimes gave the entire city a background noise that put everyone at ease. These pleasant soft deep water-chimes were periodically accompanied by a few higher pitched wind-chimes. The native music was calming and relaxing. Even Brimmelle was able to walk the lower section of the ramp without gripping tightly onto Avanda’s hand.
Once they reached the bottom, they worked their way through the farming community toward the central city. The Ov’Unday were a collection of gentle races. They consisted of many different species; some on four legs, some on two, and others with none as they slithered or flew. An endless variety of colors and skin types covered the many different types, which ranged from the giant Mognins down to the rat-sized Puppics with their long tails and floppy ears.
Passing a garden, Avanda noticed a large rock had crushed a row of plants. Explaining Thorik and Avanda’s ordeal that had taken place above, she easily convinced Grewen to reach into the garden and remove it.
Children ran up and down the streets and played various games of tag, enticing Avanda to play as well. The adrenaline rush from her near-deadly fall from above had subsided and she had slowly begun talking to Thorik again. Her interest in playing with the locals was deferred with a soft nod from him to keep up with the group as they traveled inward toward the towers.
Thorik watched the playing as they walked along before making any reference. “Grewen, these children seem very happy. It reminds me of Farbank.”
Grewen nodded and grinned. “Yes, they are happy. But they are raised far differently than the children you know.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You have restrictive ties to your children. Parents oversee and control their raising.”
Thorik thought that is was odd observation. “Yes. So?”
“Once Ov’Unday are capable of moving about, they become the community’s children. All adults are now their parents, and they must protect all young and help guide them.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Brimmelle spoke up. “They couldn’t possibly all give the same advice. The children would become confused. They would have no foundation.”
Grewen stopped a child running in the street. “Don’t run near the river. It’s overflowing and the streets are slick.”
The child looked out toward the river and then at Grewen. “I’ll be careful.” He then headed off to catch up with his friends.
“You see,” Grewen continued, “We believe if young minds are exposed to many ways of thoughts it stimulates their ability to reason and judge for themselves what is right and wrong.”
Avanda was amazed. “I want to live here.”
“Oh no you don’t.” Fir Brimmelle grabbed her by the hand to ensure she didn’t wander away. “This kind of thinking leads to chaos.”
Thorik naturally wished to prevent any arguments. “If that was true, then it would already be chaos.”
“To a degree, it was at first.” Grewen recalled historical stories of the time. “A wise Mognin, named Trewek, started our culture believing that chaos would be required for us to gain the internal salvation we needed.”
“That makes no sense.” Brimmelle scoffed at the idea.
“One must be willing to be open to all thoughts and ideas before you can select the ones you wish to adhere to. If you only know of one option, you can never be enlightened enough to know if you are following the right path.”
Brimmelle shook his head. “This is wrong and confusing for children. It is the parent’s duty to have them understand the truth.”
“Isolating them in Farbank to give them only one point of view prevents them from knowing if it is the right one.” The Mognin smiled with anticipation at the expected response from the Fir.
“But it is the right one. Why fill their minds with things that are wrong?”
“Wrong in your mind, but not to others.”
“Are you suggesting we should teach our children in ways that we don’t believe, even when we know they are harmful?”
“I’m not suggesting that you do anything. I’m only stating that we Ov’Unday allow our children to question everything and make their own decisions.”
Avanda continued to watch the wonderful sights. “If I lived here and I did something wrong, who would discipline me if everyone is considered to be my parent?”
Grewen chuckled. “I can understand why you would want to know such a thing before moving here. However, we do not discipline. Trewek did not believe in it.”
Even Thorik was surprised by the answer. “So you can get away with anything you want?”
“Acting out against your fellow Ov is a sign that something is wrong. We come together as a community to try to help these individuals. We counsel them so they understand what they have done, how it has affected others, and how they could handle the challenges better in the future.”
Brimmelle scoffed. “You mean to tell me if someone committed murd
er, you wouldn’t throw them in prison?”
“We have no prisons. This is a concept that only the humans and Polenums share.”
“Don’t be lumping us in with humans.” Fir Brimmelle puffed up his chest. “The human we have with us should show you our differences.”
Looking back in order to see Bryus, the group realized he was no longer with them.
“We need to find him.” Thorik was disheartened that they would need to take the time to do so.
Grewen softly nodded to Thorik to ease his concerns. “He will find his way. We are nearing the bridges to the city. He knows you will be pleading your case to the elders to warn them of pending war. I’m sure he will catch up to us.”
Crossing a bridge to the first island, Thorik was impressed by the craftsmanship and attention to details on the railing. Not nearly the detail of the Kingsfoot carvings, but definitely more artistic. Nothing had been constructed haphazardly; it was all done to provoke thought and awareness of the surroundings.
They walked across island after island, linked by the bridges, until they arrived near the center where the tallest of the towers rested on one of the largest islands.
Grewen then approached a large sloth-like creature known as a Gathler. This specific Gathler stood before the entrance of the tower and wore forest green robes. Grewen’s conversation with him continued for several minutes as he pointed at Thorik while explaining what they came for. With an official nod from both of them, Grewen turned around and walked back to Thorik.
“The next meeting of the elders is not scheduled for another month.”
“What? We don’t have a month,” Thorik argued.
Grewen held up his hand to stop the Num from getting upset. “However, they will be making a special meeting here in a week.”
Brimmelle was skeptical. “That seems a little too nice for them to do for a few unknown outsiders.”
“True, however we are the second request they have received in the past two days to speak to the elders of pending war. Apparently there are others who know about this.”