Black Moon Rising - Book One of The Centum Path Series by Alp Mortal
Categories: Science Fiction | Romance | Gay
Word Count: 103,161 Heat Rating: 3 Price: $ .99 Available here:
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We are not alone. A fact that few are party to ... until a cataclysm begins to unravel the threads of the lies that have been told for millennia. Caught up in events of which they have little understanding, Meredith and Caleb are catapulted to the bleeding edge of their personal galaxy and come to understand some of its mysteries. While Jonathan - a pawn in the game of Universal domination, and Bakar - a captive off-worlder, learn to trust each other in hopes of fleeing their pursuers and finding a way for Bakar to return to his native world of Mia Via. Meantime, Phaeton and Craig - outcasts - plot to bring the powers that be to their knees, and unleash the power to travel the Universe at will. And in the background, an enemy - as old as the Universe itself - is beginning to rally its allies and wage war against the citizens of the Centum Path - all for the absolute control of a single, rare commodity - gold.
Black Moon Rising thrusts the reader straight into the heart of the lives of three couples, through whom, we learn the nature of Space, Time and the meaning of Life ... and love. Black Moon Rising is book one of The Centum Path Series. A series that will build into an epic science fiction saga. As the series début, Black Moon Rising poses just as many questions as it answers - not least, what was Doman's legacy? Look out for the second instalment, titled The Time Weavers. I am always very happy to receive your feedback. If you wish to contact me directly, please email me at: [email protected]. Visit the website, www.alpmortal.weebly.com, for updates on the next gay romantic story or crime thriller which I am working on. Thank you, Alp Mortal |
Chapter One - By The Seven Moons
“Bakar! Wake up ... Bakar!”
The tendrils of his dream just would not let go, not without a fight. As consciousness came to him, he struggled to relinquish the sense of being somewhere else, as someone else, with someone else. They said such dreams were a ‘calling’. He had been chosen; it therefore made sense.
“Bakar!”
“I’m awake; stop shouting.”
“We have to leave soon; you must feed all day if you are to have the strength to make it through.”
“I fed all day yesterday; I feel sick.”
“You’ll need it ... especially after tonight.”
The parting gift; the last sharing before leaving family and friends, leaving Mica, leaving Via Mia and his beloved Vega.
He rolled off of the bed pallet onto his hands and knees and pressed his forehead to the cold floor.
“Vega rises in a triginta, Bakar; I will meet you at the base of the cliff.”
“Mica ...”
“Yes?”
“I’m not going to ask you to wait; an entire centum is too long.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide?”
“Whether you choose to wait or not is your choice; I do not expect you to.”
“Do you want me to?”
“We will both be much changed; I say that, if we meet again, we decide then, not now.”
“You are breaking with custom.”
Still with his face held barely the breadth of a hair above the rock, Bakar did not witness the tears that began to tumble from Mica’s eyes. If he had, he would not have let them fall to the ground. As it was, they were wasted in every respect.
“I will meet you at the cliff, Mica.”
He remained crouching until he heard the catch of the door click, and only then did he rise.
“Much will change ...”
Bakar rose to his feet and stretched his hands above his head until they touched the ceiling. The dwelling, not so much a cave but a short tunnel, which had been dug into one of the scarp slopes in hopes that it would yield the precious salium, was home to Bakar, his parents and Mica. Two bed pallets alone provided any clue that it was inhabited at all. With his hands and feet braced, he looked like a pillar, supporting the roof; and with his eyes closed, the colour of his skin blended with the rock, and to the untrained eye, he would have been invisible. He strove to force his hands and feet into the rock itself, strengthening his core. After straining for a quintal, a thin layer of sweat broke out over his entire body; he licked it off. Refreshed, he strode towards the door.
“Sal for aurum-aurum for life-life for Via Mia-Via Mia for Vega-Vega forever ... Cacama.”
The catechism, learned from birth, the single driving force, propelling everyone’s existence until death. Without sal and aurum, life was short, painful and dull.
He grasped the handle of the door and pushed, closing his eyes against Vega’s rising glory and, bathing in her light, he sucked in the pure energy, hearing the crackle of his skin as the cells expanded, which reminded him of the sound that his grandmother’s body had made when the pyre had consumed her. Salt-laden, the corpse had burned green and blue, aping the strange lights in the sky.
“Bakar! What are you waiting for?”
Annoyed that his reverie had been disturbed, he opened his eyes and pulled a face.
“I’m coming!”
His mother and father were already a centard away and halfway up the first cliff.
“They have left the richest seam for you.”
“Let’s do this quickly; I wish to visit the Templum.”
“You go first; take the best and easiest ...”
Feeding was a simple but monotonous process. The mineral-rich salts upon which their lives depended, as much as aurum, were found in the tiny crevices that scarred the surface of the cliff; evidence of ancient falls, which Lithi had said had eroded the surface - water was a mythical beast in these times. The tongue of the Shuruppak was well-adapted, being long, thin and highly mobile - almost prehensile - and hyper absorbent. Delving into each crevice quickly and thoroughly was the skill of every man, woman and child. Bakar was not used to the method of skimming the surface but time was of the essence. He left Mica the dregs, which were harder to reach, and soon he was far ahead, almost at the top of the first cliff. Vega’s heat and light converted the precious salts into nourishment for the body and mind. Aurum was reserved for the soul.
Reaching the first of seven plateaus, he stopped, turned and bathed, sensing his hair thicken and ripen like the mythical triticum, which it was once said had grown wild and abundant from the foot of the cliff to the edge of the largest crater.
Without waiting for Mica, he proceeded to the next cliff and began the process again, and, having overtaken his mother and father, he relaxed a little and even skipped the deepest scars, knowing that, once he’d reached the top, he could rest and then go to the Templum.
Exhilarated, he climbed higher and faster; Mica was but a speck on the cliff face beneath him.
“Come on!” He pushed himself, thinking only of aurum - the gift he would receive to survive the journey, and the hoard he would bring back.
The final cliff was short and sweet; the best was always saved until last.
Scrambling over the edge onto the shelf that sat just beneath the summit, he found Saami waiting.
“Sluggard!”
“Why are you here, Saami?” Bakar demanded, irked by the intrusion.
“Lithi begs for the pleasure of your company at his workshop.”
“Why?”
“Something special awaits ...”
Saami scampered off, on all fours, dragging his tongue over the rocks, squealing gleefully.
“Mad, infernal, rotten son of a canis bitch!”
The insult only drove Saami to squeal louder.
Looking over the edge, he guessed that Mica was too far away to hear his cry. He searched quickly for a flint and found one with a keen edge, with which he carved simply ‘Lithi’ onto a flat stone, and he left it by the edge of the cliff, hoping that Mica would see it straightaway. He then inched around the narrow ledge that girdled the summit and found the steps carved into the dark side of the mountain and descended as quickly as the gloom allowed.
***
“There you are, Bakar; come in - and touch nothing!”
Bakar rarely visited Lithi in his workshop; he met him frequently in the gathering place but at those times, Lithi was usually more aloof, preferring to watch than join in unless called upon to perform a ceremony.
The workshop, like almost everywhere else that the Shuruppak inhabited, was carved out of the rock; an old tunnel - Lithi’s workshop was just that much deeper and broader than most.
“It is incredibly important, Bakar, that you pay attention to what I am going to say about the trade and my instructions on how to use the navigation device to ensure that you get back home safely ...”
Bakar was trying to pay attention but his eyes were drawn to a type of framework upon which was fastened a suit of clothes, the like of which he had never seen before.
“Bakar-”
“What is that?”
“The cloaking suit; one of the trade items you will be taking with you for ORMUS.”
“What is it and how does it work?”
Lithi laughed heartily; no one else in the settlement was half as inquisitive except for Saami, and that was to be expected given his breeding.
“Put it on ...”
“What does it do?” Bakar inquired as he stepped up to the suit, which had the vague appearance of some armour that he had once seen in a pictogram.
“It makes you invisible-”
“Invisible?!”
Bakar grabbed the nearest piece of the suit, ripping it from the frame and upsetting the rest, which tumbled to the ground.
“Careful, you fool!”
Bakar realised his mistake and stood back.
“Forgive me, Lithi.”
Lithi stepped over to the pile of shimmering body parts that lay on the floor.
“Let me help you; hold your arms out to the side and stand with your legs a little further apart ...”
Bakar did as he was told, secretly swelling with pride that he - Bakar of the Shuruppak - would deliver such goods to ORMUS and bring back the much-needed trove of aurum.
Lithi picked up the first piece of the suit from the pile; as it happened, an upper arm section, which was hinged along its length to aid the process of donning and wearing. He snapped the section into place and waited for the suit to respond to Bakar’s energy. Then, very subtly, near imperceptibly, it moulded itself to the precise contour of Bakar’s arm.
“Flex your muscle.”
Bakar flexed his bicep and wondered at the near weightlessness and suppleness of the material. But that was nothing compared to the sight of his upper arm having disappeared, leaving his lower arm in a state of what appeared to be isolated suspension.
“How is this achieved, Lithi?”
“Quantum mechanics ...”
Bakar looked blankly, ashamed that his ignorance was being so vividly displayed.
“... Let us say that the suit is made of string. And let us also remember that some string can only exist in another dimension. This suit is the output of an equation, which can only exist in another dimension, unobservable by the naked eye. The energy which you impart to the suit powers the particles in the string and they come into existence in that dimension, but unobservable to you in this one.”
“The suit is real, Lithi?”
“It probably exists; perhaps they have refined the theory now on Earth; Einstein and Kaluza did some promising work. Let us perhaps say, in case you are asked, the suit exists in the fifth dimension, which is not observable, and therefore invisible.”
“Why could I see it when I entered the room?”
“It had no energy until you touched it and therefore was observable ... you have the suit but also an invisibility generator that will render an area as large as the main settlement totally invisible when energised.”
“And these are the gifts for ORMUS for which I will receive in return the aurum, yes?”
“Yes; and the promise is for more aurum than we have ever seen before.”
Lithi helped Bakar to don the rest of the suit, rendering him invisible.
“I have made a modification to the suit so that you can communicate with the outside world while wearing it.”
“Astounding!” exclaimed Bakar as he took the helmet off.
“ORMUS should be very pleased. Now; listen very carefully, Bakar. The portal which opens tomorrow will take you to Earth, to a site which we call Initium and which they call - the words are hard to pronounce - Omo Kibish ... ORMUS will meet you. The portal will close after a period of Earth six minutes and thirty-nine seconds; that is the length of time you will have to move yourself and the cargo out over the portal threshold. ORMUS will take you to the next portal, which will be the beginning of the journey home - what we all know as the Centum Path - one hundred complete orbits of Via Mia around Vega - then the portal here will open and you should, all other things being equal, return home. I have the navigation device and instructions for you. It is essential-”
“Lithi-”
“What?” Lithi was annoyed at being interrupted and showed it by stamping his foot.
“I am not going to ask Mica to wait ...”
“But, Bakar, this is the cherished custom of the Shuruppak.”
“I want us both to have the choice.”
“Why?”
“Because it is not the way; that is the reason.”
Despite surrounding himself in string and quantum mechanics, Lithi - being the oldest of the tribe - was very aware of the customs of the Shuruppak. It unsettled him, in fact, it scared him that Bakar planned to abandon the practice.
“You will leave Mica in a very uncomfortable position ... What if he chooses not to wait? What if you choose not to wait?”
“Then we will have chosen ...” was all Bakar was prepared to say.
Lithi attempted to sidestep the remark by drawing attention to the navigation device and the instructions needed to use it. But however hard he tried, he could not ignore it completely and disquiet grew in his mind - it would have to be discussed with Timon.
He grabbed the device from his bench.
“The Centum Path Finder, Bakar; please pay attention. Get this wrong and you’ll never get back.”
“I wish Doman had returned before I have to leave.”
“It will be a salutary lesson then ...”
Lithi held up the device - a flatish, clock-like apparatus, which fitted in the palm of the hand. It was made of the only metal that existed in abundance on Via Mia - copper.
“As Doman did not return, I have had to make a new one. The outer dial must be positioned so that the needle is pointing to the planet where you are at that time. The second, third and fourth dials are for the Universal time and date - you know how to calculate that. Once the position and the date and time have been dialled in and lined up under the needle, the next portal event is shown in the little window as time plus coordinates - ORMUS will take you to the next portal well ahead of the time. When you arrive at the next destination, perform the operation again - the next portal is shown. Follow the sequence precisely or you will not arrive back here. Do not lose this. ORMUS will look after you on Earth; on the other worlds, our tribes-kin will do the same.”
“What of the-”
“Do not say their name! Let us hope that they have forgotten about us and what we do. If you encounter them, destroy the device before they can take it.”
“So I sacrifice myself?”
“You know the answer to that question; it was your choice to put yourself forward.”
“I know ... How much aurum will I be given?”
“Timon will tell you; the exchange is proving harder and harder to negotiate; we always seem to be giving more and they always seem to be giving less despite their promises ... but there is no choice. Timon sent a message with Doman, explaining our dissatisfaction.”
“Why does aurum only exist on Earth?”
“No one knows ... Go, and I will see you at the gathering. Take the suit with you; it is too heavy for me to carry by myself. Saami will take you back the short way ...”
Bakar placed the suit in the specially prepared case that was used to transport it, together with the cloaking module that could render an entire settlement invisible, and shouldered the box. He placed the Centum Path Finder in the pouch that hung from his belt. Stepping outside, he found Saami waiting.
“Follow me; do not look to the left or the right.”
At first, it was easy to comply; the way was shouldered on either side by large boulders that screened their view. Then the way opened out.
“Look straight ahead!”
The compulsion to look to the side was becoming overpowering; he tried to close his eyes but that took more effort than keeping his head pointing dead straight ahead. He concentrated on the mountain before him, becoming hypnotised by the effect; everything seemed to be rising and swirling as if picked up by one of the great storms.
He felt his knees buckle.
***
“Easy! Easy; don’t rush to get up.”
“What happened?”
When he opened his eyes, he found Timon by his side, kneeling by the bed pallet.
“A test ... you passed. When the portal opens, you will feel the same compulsion to look to the right or the left - don’t!”
“Where is Jale?”
“Helping at the gathering place; she’ll be back soon. Just rest.”
He closed his eyes again and let the nausea pass; it felt like ocean waves. There was no water on Via Mia, just rock and salt. The only time they sensed or felt waves was during a storm. To feel them now felt ominous.
When he woke up for the second time, Jale was brushing the floor.
“Jale!”
“Bakar! Finally; any longer and I would have had to wake you; the mustering is happening soon.”
He was tempted to blurt out his declaration about Mica but felt too weak to withstand the tirade he was sure would follow.
He stood up, towering over Jale, who was fussing with the clasp that held her wrap about her shoulders.
“I ate too much.”
“The journey will rob you of your strength. You should know that the aurum that you will be given tonight is the last of the common stock. Doman’s failure to return has left us vulnerable.”
“Why do we not wait for him?”
“The reserve will not last if we wait any longer; it will barely keep us going for the centum you are gone - you have to make it back, Bakar.”
“Doman may return while I am gone.”
Jale did not answer; no one expected Doman to return.
“Hurry up!” she urged.
Bakar ignored the plea and took a moment to brush his hair, and then asked her to braid it for him. With expert fingers, she wove his locks.
“I am proud you, Bakar ...”
The words took him by surprise and for the first time in a long time, he had tears in his eyes, which he let his mother lick from his cheeks; not since childhood had he done that.
The path to the gathering place was freshly swept he noticed. As if by some trickery, the seven moons rose as he and Jale approached the circle. There was no other light besides their hard-edged, ashen beams. Even when they made it to the circle, Bakar could not distinguish between the shadows of his tribesfolk and the shadows of the megaliths, being cast by the moons.
Timon stepped forward and held out his two hands, grasping Bakar and Jale by the hand, to then guide them to the sanctum. Everyone except for Doman was in attendance.
A pitifully small number of dwellers moved forward to form a loose circle around the trio of mother, father and son - they all felt, but did their best to eschew, the pain of this moment; the cheerful songs and bawdy tales did nothing to quell the underlying fear - if you do not come back, Bakar, we are all going to die.
“My son leaves us tomorrow; great riches he will bring back if Vega is kind. May Vega light his way and let Via Mia be his hope if light is extinguished. Praise be to Vega!”
“Praise be to Vega!” the crowd returned and none more loudly than Bakar himself.
“There is something which needs to be announced ...”
The murmur of the crowd, expected by Timon, did nothing to quell his nerves.
“... Bakar leaves Mica behind ... Bakar will not ask Mica to wait ... they both can choose freely until Bakar returns ...”
The stunned silence was not accounted for by the shock caused by the words - the rumour mill had spread them already - it was accounted for by the sadness felt by each and every member of the tribe.
“... I trust my son’s judgement.”
The parting comment sounded as wane as moon shadow at dawn but it carried the weight of law.
“Feast!”
Lithi’s battle cry was timed to perfection.
A visitor might have asked, “Where is the food?” and the reply would have been, “All around you; don’t you see?”
The gathering place was made of hewn and shaped stones, in fact, a circle of megaliths, each as tall as Bakar - some taller. Upon examination, a visitor would have seen strange carvings covering the surface of the stones, and would have concluded that they were crude representations of animals and plants - there were no animals and plants on Via Mia now.
Each of the dwellers stepped up to a megalith and bowed their head once. Then, with a kind of reverence, they licked the stones, carefully tracing the edges of the carvings, usually in one fluid movement. They moved in turn to each megalith, bowed, and feasted on the salts and the traces of copper. In some cases, the relief work of the stone was so prominent that the sides of the megalith were beginning to fall away. That very evening, they installed a freshly hewn stone in place of one that had literally been eaten to nothing. It was Timon’s responsibility as leader to repair and replace such stones. Jale stepped forward and drew fresh outlines of the animals and plants that had adorned the original stone. The dedication complete, each licked the stone, being careful to accurately trace the shapes, beginning the process of erosion afresh.
Satiated, all sat down within the stone circle of giants, with Bakar alone in the centre.
“Bakar is our hope; he who chooses is chosen; honour the gift with aurum; give freely, receive freely.”
Lithi, having spoken the words, was the first to lean forward, placing his hands on the ground, presenting his face to Bakar, much in the same way as Saami begged for food. Bakar swivelled around on his buttocks to face Lithi, smiling as the game began. Using his tongue, he searched for the precious gift of aurum, darting in behind the old man’s ear, in the depths of his eyelids, at the corner of his mouth. A game learned as a child to perfect the skill of finding the salts within the crevices of the cliffs. He found the tiny, flat, thin disc of aurum balanced on the top of the old man’s head. With practised ease, he slipped the very tip of his tongue into the hole within the centre of the disc and lifted it, drawing his tongue back into his mouth. The process was repeated with each member of the tribe. Mica was last to lean forward. Bakar hesitated, fearing that Mica would demand that he delve into places that he did not wish now to delve. Just as he feared, he found the disc between his bedmate’s lips.
“Mica! Why make this harder?”
He probed lightly and liberated the disc; all the while, Mica kept his eyes closed - a sign of mourning. With the eyes closed, one could not see Vega, therefore, one aped the dead.
“Sal for aurum-aurum for life-life for Via Mia-Via Mia for Vega-Vega forever ... Cacama!” bellowed Lithi, belying his years.
“CACAMA!” repeated the tribe, Bakar the loudest, already feeling the effects of the aurum as it dissolved and flowed through his veins.
Unsure if his eyes were open or closed, he saw the circle and his tribe fall away, leaving him suspended in Space, surrounded by the seven moons of Via Mia.
“I am Vega ...”
Looking down, he saw that his skin was beginning to radiate a pure light, one which was being refracted by the crystals of salt that encrusted his whole body, splitting the light into a trillion beams of colour.
Sensing the change, his soul grew like a crystal, like those on the sun field where the tribe huddled for warmth sometimes. Pulsing heat, resembling a heart without the sound of the beat, pushed outward to the edge of the envelope of his skin, and there dissipated like the grains of salt that got blown away by the wind. Behind the heat, a space, shaped like a rod, which stretched from the crown of his head to the base of his manhood, a stem, thicker than his thumb but not as thick as his wrist, which glowed like aurum and tasted like salt - twin essences of life.
“I am Vega ...”
Every liberated beam of light moved out to form connections with every star in the Cave of Life, which some called the Universe. As if fishing with a line and hook, he dragged the stars back to his soul, filling the rod-like space, which no longer glowed but, like molten salt, moved in a rolling boil, rising and sinking in a never ending cycle.
The rod filled his mind, dissecting it cleanly from top to bottom, branching along its length both to one side and the other to form a series of parallel horizontal lines; each of which branched to form parallel vertical lines and in so doing, drew a grid that, once complete, morphed into the shape of his heart, which began beating to the rhythm of Lithi’s meditation gong. And in the moment of recognition, he woke up and found himself alone in front of the gates of the portal.
“I am Vega no more; I am Bakar of the Shuruppak and I am chosen ...”
He shook his head to gather his senses. In so doing, he noticed the copper box beside him, within which was housed the cloaking suit and the other cloaking device. He moved and felt the drag of the Centum Path Finder, still attached to his belt. And in his hand, a piece of highly polished copper upon which his father had neatly embossed a message for ORMUS.
‘For five ingots, traded in good faith’
Bakar rose to his feet and brushed the dust from his arms and legs. Vega rose with him, inching above the horizon until, a quintal later, she was free of the black kiss of the edge of Mia Via and ascended steadily while the seven moons gravitated to the place in the sky where they would align perfectly to eclipse her.
Bakar reached down and tested the woven copper straps attached to the box. With some difficulty, he slung the box on his back by slipping his arms through the loops.
“What had Lithi said?”
“Walk forward steadily; look neither right nor left; concentrate on the white-in-black disc at the end of the path. In the eye of the storm, find the voices and the hands that will guide you ... Simple enough. I wish I had seen Doman before I had to leave.”
Instinctively, his hand went to the pouch and the pathfinder.
“Sal for aurum-aurum for life-life for Via Mia-Via Mia for Vega-Vega forever ... Cacama.”
By now the seventh moon - Aira - had eclipsed the sixth - Antuab, which together now eclipsed the fifth - Ansalli.
“Vega both mother and father, brother and sister, son and daughter ...”
Ansesseli - the fourth moon - moved behind the black disc, which hung barely the width of his index finger from the burning edge of Vega. Next, Ansodi was eaten by the shadow, and the gap had closed to the width of his little finger.
“Mia Via is home and hearth ...”
Ansolli, the second moon, slipped behind the rest and, within the blink of an eye, Con moved last, to form the circle, which now touched Vega - the moment in time had its own name - Oscul.
Bakar shuffled his feet to find a firmer stance, knowing that the door would open within a quintal. Despite Lithi assuring him that none of the tribe would be present as a precaution should the portal fail, he felt strangely abandoned given the importance of his task.
The black disc of the seven perfectly aligned moons crept across the surface of the sun and his pulse quickened, craving the waiting to be over. No one who had ever made the journey was now alive - he had been born after the last had died - Doman’s grandfather. Doman had been his hope; confident that his friend would return, he had chosen, knowing that Doman would have guided him.
He took a step forward, mesmerized by the sight of the co-joined orbs as they moved to fill the space between the upright pillars of the portal’s framework. He’d examined it many times; neither stone, salt or copper. He had tasted it and found that it reminded him of the taste of blood; only then ashamed to have hoped, and feeling disappointed too, that it hadn’t tasted of Mica.
“Mica; I could not choose you ... please forgive me ...”
Vega was now half-obscured, and in the twilight, which was now descending fast, the stars began to emerge - Deino, Enyo and Pemphredo - the grey sisters of the story told at the hearth-side. The sisters, covetous of the beauty of their cousin Vega, made a pact with the moons to steal her eye in return for releasing the moons from servitude. The sisters reneged on the promise. The moons gave back to Vega her eye.
He stepped forward again, realigning the orbs between the pillars, sensing the energy beginning to flow from the heart of his beloved Mia Via. It was said that in the dim and distant past when the portal opened, the fields of triticum would grow to full height - even if the seeds had barely rooted - and ripen within a heartbeat. He did not want to think of the story that told of the wasting of the land - their name never sullied Mia Via’s precious atmosphere.
He shivered; the light of Vega was weak and most of the land beyond the plinth upon which the portal pillars stood was now in darkness. He stepped onto the plinth to avoid tripping in the gloom; another step and he would be at the given place at the appointed time. He looked down and could just make out the impressions left in the ground by the feet of the travellers who had preceded him. He counted to ten and stepped forward, straightening his back and throwing his shoulders into a defiant pose, thrusting his chin out as if to say - claim me if you dare!
Exquisitely and yet malevolently, the moons completed their journey and eclipsed Vega. He knew what to expect. A tiny dazzling orb would appear in the centre of the space between the two pillars.
“Here it is ...”
Then it would start to grow.
“Your eye is closed; weep not for me when you open it and see me gone ...”
The spinning disc expanded to fill the entire space between the uprights. As soon as the edge of the disc touched the pillars, the sound, like a gong, resonated deeply throughout the space and set the rod within him vibrating. He spoke the protection words -
“Bakar! Wake up ... Bakar!”
The tendrils of his dream just would not let go, not without a fight. As consciousness came to him, he struggled to relinquish the sense of being somewhere else, as someone else, with someone else. They said such dreams were a ‘calling’. He had been chosen; it therefore made sense.
“Bakar!”
“I’m awake; stop shouting.”
“We have to leave soon; you must feed all day if you are to have the strength to make it through.”
“I fed all day yesterday; I feel sick.”
“You’ll need it ... especially after tonight.”
The parting gift; the last sharing before leaving family and friends, leaving Mica, leaving Via Mia and his beloved Vega.
He rolled off of the bed pallet onto his hands and knees and pressed his forehead to the cold floor.
“Vega rises in a triginta, Bakar; I will meet you at the base of the cliff.”
“Mica ...”
“Yes?”
“I’m not going to ask you to wait; an entire centum is too long.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide?”
“Whether you choose to wait or not is your choice; I do not expect you to.”
“Do you want me to?”
“We will both be much changed; I say that, if we meet again, we decide then, not now.”
“You are breaking with custom.”
Still with his face held barely the breadth of a hair above the rock, Bakar did not witness the tears that began to tumble from Mica’s eyes. If he had, he would not have let them fall to the ground. As it was, they were wasted in every respect.
“I will meet you at the cliff, Mica.”
He remained crouching until he heard the catch of the door click, and only then did he rise.
“Much will change ...”
Bakar rose to his feet and stretched his hands above his head until they touched the ceiling. The dwelling, not so much a cave but a short tunnel, which had been dug into one of the scarp slopes in hopes that it would yield the precious salium, was home to Bakar, his parents and Mica. Two bed pallets alone provided any clue that it was inhabited at all. With his hands and feet braced, he looked like a pillar, supporting the roof; and with his eyes closed, the colour of his skin blended with the rock, and to the untrained eye, he would have been invisible. He strove to force his hands and feet into the rock itself, strengthening his core. After straining for a quintal, a thin layer of sweat broke out over his entire body; he licked it off. Refreshed, he strode towards the door.
“Sal for aurum-aurum for life-life for Via Mia-Via Mia for Vega-Vega forever ... Cacama.”
The catechism, learned from birth, the single driving force, propelling everyone’s existence until death. Without sal and aurum, life was short, painful and dull.
He grasped the handle of the door and pushed, closing his eyes against Vega’s rising glory and, bathing in her light, he sucked in the pure energy, hearing the crackle of his skin as the cells expanded, which reminded him of the sound that his grandmother’s body had made when the pyre had consumed her. Salt-laden, the corpse had burned green and blue, aping the strange lights in the sky.
“Bakar! What are you waiting for?”
Annoyed that his reverie had been disturbed, he opened his eyes and pulled a face.
“I’m coming!”
His mother and father were already a centard away and halfway up the first cliff.
“They have left the richest seam for you.”
“Let’s do this quickly; I wish to visit the Templum.”
“You go first; take the best and easiest ...”
Feeding was a simple but monotonous process. The mineral-rich salts upon which their lives depended, as much as aurum, were found in the tiny crevices that scarred the surface of the cliff; evidence of ancient falls, which Lithi had said had eroded the surface - water was a mythical beast in these times. The tongue of the Shuruppak was well-adapted, being long, thin and highly mobile - almost prehensile - and hyper absorbent. Delving into each crevice quickly and thoroughly was the skill of every man, woman and child. Bakar was not used to the method of skimming the surface but time was of the essence. He left Mica the dregs, which were harder to reach, and soon he was far ahead, almost at the top of the first cliff. Vega’s heat and light converted the precious salts into nourishment for the body and mind. Aurum was reserved for the soul.
Reaching the first of seven plateaus, he stopped, turned and bathed, sensing his hair thicken and ripen like the mythical triticum, which it was once said had grown wild and abundant from the foot of the cliff to the edge of the largest crater.
Without waiting for Mica, he proceeded to the next cliff and began the process again, and, having overtaken his mother and father, he relaxed a little and even skipped the deepest scars, knowing that, once he’d reached the top, he could rest and then go to the Templum.
Exhilarated, he climbed higher and faster; Mica was but a speck on the cliff face beneath him.
“Come on!” He pushed himself, thinking only of aurum - the gift he would receive to survive the journey, and the hoard he would bring back.
The final cliff was short and sweet; the best was always saved until last.
Scrambling over the edge onto the shelf that sat just beneath the summit, he found Saami waiting.
“Sluggard!”
“Why are you here, Saami?” Bakar demanded, irked by the intrusion.
“Lithi begs for the pleasure of your company at his workshop.”
“Why?”
“Something special awaits ...”
Saami scampered off, on all fours, dragging his tongue over the rocks, squealing gleefully.
“Mad, infernal, rotten son of a canis bitch!”
The insult only drove Saami to squeal louder.
Looking over the edge, he guessed that Mica was too far away to hear his cry. He searched quickly for a flint and found one with a keen edge, with which he carved simply ‘Lithi’ onto a flat stone, and he left it by the edge of the cliff, hoping that Mica would see it straightaway. He then inched around the narrow ledge that girdled the summit and found the steps carved into the dark side of the mountain and descended as quickly as the gloom allowed.
***
“There you are, Bakar; come in - and touch nothing!”
Bakar rarely visited Lithi in his workshop; he met him frequently in the gathering place but at those times, Lithi was usually more aloof, preferring to watch than join in unless called upon to perform a ceremony.
The workshop, like almost everywhere else that the Shuruppak inhabited, was carved out of the rock; an old tunnel - Lithi’s workshop was just that much deeper and broader than most.
“It is incredibly important, Bakar, that you pay attention to what I am going to say about the trade and my instructions on how to use the navigation device to ensure that you get back home safely ...”
Bakar was trying to pay attention but his eyes were drawn to a type of framework upon which was fastened a suit of clothes, the like of which he had never seen before.
“Bakar-”
“What is that?”
“The cloaking suit; one of the trade items you will be taking with you for ORMUS.”
“What is it and how does it work?”
Lithi laughed heartily; no one else in the settlement was half as inquisitive except for Saami, and that was to be expected given his breeding.
“Put it on ...”
“What does it do?” Bakar inquired as he stepped up to the suit, which had the vague appearance of some armour that he had once seen in a pictogram.
“It makes you invisible-”
“Invisible?!”
Bakar grabbed the nearest piece of the suit, ripping it from the frame and upsetting the rest, which tumbled to the ground.
“Careful, you fool!”
Bakar realised his mistake and stood back.
“Forgive me, Lithi.”
Lithi stepped over to the pile of shimmering body parts that lay on the floor.
“Let me help you; hold your arms out to the side and stand with your legs a little further apart ...”
Bakar did as he was told, secretly swelling with pride that he - Bakar of the Shuruppak - would deliver such goods to ORMUS and bring back the much-needed trove of aurum.
Lithi picked up the first piece of the suit from the pile; as it happened, an upper arm section, which was hinged along its length to aid the process of donning and wearing. He snapped the section into place and waited for the suit to respond to Bakar’s energy. Then, very subtly, near imperceptibly, it moulded itself to the precise contour of Bakar’s arm.
“Flex your muscle.”
Bakar flexed his bicep and wondered at the near weightlessness and suppleness of the material. But that was nothing compared to the sight of his upper arm having disappeared, leaving his lower arm in a state of what appeared to be isolated suspension.
“How is this achieved, Lithi?”
“Quantum mechanics ...”
Bakar looked blankly, ashamed that his ignorance was being so vividly displayed.
“... Let us say that the suit is made of string. And let us also remember that some string can only exist in another dimension. This suit is the output of an equation, which can only exist in another dimension, unobservable by the naked eye. The energy which you impart to the suit powers the particles in the string and they come into existence in that dimension, but unobservable to you in this one.”
“The suit is real, Lithi?”
“It probably exists; perhaps they have refined the theory now on Earth; Einstein and Kaluza did some promising work. Let us perhaps say, in case you are asked, the suit exists in the fifth dimension, which is not observable, and therefore invisible.”
“Why could I see it when I entered the room?”
“It had no energy until you touched it and therefore was observable ... you have the suit but also an invisibility generator that will render an area as large as the main settlement totally invisible when energised.”
“And these are the gifts for ORMUS for which I will receive in return the aurum, yes?”
“Yes; and the promise is for more aurum than we have ever seen before.”
Lithi helped Bakar to don the rest of the suit, rendering him invisible.
“I have made a modification to the suit so that you can communicate with the outside world while wearing it.”
“Astounding!” exclaimed Bakar as he took the helmet off.
“ORMUS should be very pleased. Now; listen very carefully, Bakar. The portal which opens tomorrow will take you to Earth, to a site which we call Initium and which they call - the words are hard to pronounce - Omo Kibish ... ORMUS will meet you. The portal will close after a period of Earth six minutes and thirty-nine seconds; that is the length of time you will have to move yourself and the cargo out over the portal threshold. ORMUS will take you to the next portal, which will be the beginning of the journey home - what we all know as the Centum Path - one hundred complete orbits of Via Mia around Vega - then the portal here will open and you should, all other things being equal, return home. I have the navigation device and instructions for you. It is essential-”
“Lithi-”
“What?” Lithi was annoyed at being interrupted and showed it by stamping his foot.
“I am not going to ask Mica to wait ...”
“But, Bakar, this is the cherished custom of the Shuruppak.”
“I want us both to have the choice.”
“Why?”
“Because it is not the way; that is the reason.”
Despite surrounding himself in string and quantum mechanics, Lithi - being the oldest of the tribe - was very aware of the customs of the Shuruppak. It unsettled him, in fact, it scared him that Bakar planned to abandon the practice.
“You will leave Mica in a very uncomfortable position ... What if he chooses not to wait? What if you choose not to wait?”
“Then we will have chosen ...” was all Bakar was prepared to say.
Lithi attempted to sidestep the remark by drawing attention to the navigation device and the instructions needed to use it. But however hard he tried, he could not ignore it completely and disquiet grew in his mind - it would have to be discussed with Timon.
He grabbed the device from his bench.
“The Centum Path Finder, Bakar; please pay attention. Get this wrong and you’ll never get back.”
“I wish Doman had returned before I have to leave.”
“It will be a salutary lesson then ...”
Lithi held up the device - a flatish, clock-like apparatus, which fitted in the palm of the hand. It was made of the only metal that existed in abundance on Via Mia - copper.
“As Doman did not return, I have had to make a new one. The outer dial must be positioned so that the needle is pointing to the planet where you are at that time. The second, third and fourth dials are for the Universal time and date - you know how to calculate that. Once the position and the date and time have been dialled in and lined up under the needle, the next portal event is shown in the little window as time plus coordinates - ORMUS will take you to the next portal well ahead of the time. When you arrive at the next destination, perform the operation again - the next portal is shown. Follow the sequence precisely or you will not arrive back here. Do not lose this. ORMUS will look after you on Earth; on the other worlds, our tribes-kin will do the same.”
“What of the-”
“Do not say their name! Let us hope that they have forgotten about us and what we do. If you encounter them, destroy the device before they can take it.”
“So I sacrifice myself?”
“You know the answer to that question; it was your choice to put yourself forward.”
“I know ... How much aurum will I be given?”
“Timon will tell you; the exchange is proving harder and harder to negotiate; we always seem to be giving more and they always seem to be giving less despite their promises ... but there is no choice. Timon sent a message with Doman, explaining our dissatisfaction.”
“Why does aurum only exist on Earth?”
“No one knows ... Go, and I will see you at the gathering. Take the suit with you; it is too heavy for me to carry by myself. Saami will take you back the short way ...”
Bakar placed the suit in the specially prepared case that was used to transport it, together with the cloaking module that could render an entire settlement invisible, and shouldered the box. He placed the Centum Path Finder in the pouch that hung from his belt. Stepping outside, he found Saami waiting.
“Follow me; do not look to the left or the right.”
At first, it was easy to comply; the way was shouldered on either side by large boulders that screened their view. Then the way opened out.
“Look straight ahead!”
The compulsion to look to the side was becoming overpowering; he tried to close his eyes but that took more effort than keeping his head pointing dead straight ahead. He concentrated on the mountain before him, becoming hypnotised by the effect; everything seemed to be rising and swirling as if picked up by one of the great storms.
He felt his knees buckle.
***
“Easy! Easy; don’t rush to get up.”
“What happened?”
When he opened his eyes, he found Timon by his side, kneeling by the bed pallet.
“A test ... you passed. When the portal opens, you will feel the same compulsion to look to the right or the left - don’t!”
“Where is Jale?”
“Helping at the gathering place; she’ll be back soon. Just rest.”
He closed his eyes again and let the nausea pass; it felt like ocean waves. There was no water on Via Mia, just rock and salt. The only time they sensed or felt waves was during a storm. To feel them now felt ominous.
When he woke up for the second time, Jale was brushing the floor.
“Jale!”
“Bakar! Finally; any longer and I would have had to wake you; the mustering is happening soon.”
He was tempted to blurt out his declaration about Mica but felt too weak to withstand the tirade he was sure would follow.
He stood up, towering over Jale, who was fussing with the clasp that held her wrap about her shoulders.
“I ate too much.”
“The journey will rob you of your strength. You should know that the aurum that you will be given tonight is the last of the common stock. Doman’s failure to return has left us vulnerable.”
“Why do we not wait for him?”
“The reserve will not last if we wait any longer; it will barely keep us going for the centum you are gone - you have to make it back, Bakar.”
“Doman may return while I am gone.”
Jale did not answer; no one expected Doman to return.
“Hurry up!” she urged.
Bakar ignored the plea and took a moment to brush his hair, and then asked her to braid it for him. With expert fingers, she wove his locks.
“I am proud you, Bakar ...”
The words took him by surprise and for the first time in a long time, he had tears in his eyes, which he let his mother lick from his cheeks; not since childhood had he done that.
The path to the gathering place was freshly swept he noticed. As if by some trickery, the seven moons rose as he and Jale approached the circle. There was no other light besides their hard-edged, ashen beams. Even when they made it to the circle, Bakar could not distinguish between the shadows of his tribesfolk and the shadows of the megaliths, being cast by the moons.
Timon stepped forward and held out his two hands, grasping Bakar and Jale by the hand, to then guide them to the sanctum. Everyone except for Doman was in attendance.
A pitifully small number of dwellers moved forward to form a loose circle around the trio of mother, father and son - they all felt, but did their best to eschew, the pain of this moment; the cheerful songs and bawdy tales did nothing to quell the underlying fear - if you do not come back, Bakar, we are all going to die.
“My son leaves us tomorrow; great riches he will bring back if Vega is kind. May Vega light his way and let Via Mia be his hope if light is extinguished. Praise be to Vega!”
“Praise be to Vega!” the crowd returned and none more loudly than Bakar himself.
“There is something which needs to be announced ...”
The murmur of the crowd, expected by Timon, did nothing to quell his nerves.
“... Bakar leaves Mica behind ... Bakar will not ask Mica to wait ... they both can choose freely until Bakar returns ...”
The stunned silence was not accounted for by the shock caused by the words - the rumour mill had spread them already - it was accounted for by the sadness felt by each and every member of the tribe.
“... I trust my son’s judgement.”
The parting comment sounded as wane as moon shadow at dawn but it carried the weight of law.
“Feast!”
Lithi’s battle cry was timed to perfection.
A visitor might have asked, “Where is the food?” and the reply would have been, “All around you; don’t you see?”
The gathering place was made of hewn and shaped stones, in fact, a circle of megaliths, each as tall as Bakar - some taller. Upon examination, a visitor would have seen strange carvings covering the surface of the stones, and would have concluded that they were crude representations of animals and plants - there were no animals and plants on Via Mia now.
Each of the dwellers stepped up to a megalith and bowed their head once. Then, with a kind of reverence, they licked the stones, carefully tracing the edges of the carvings, usually in one fluid movement. They moved in turn to each megalith, bowed, and feasted on the salts and the traces of copper. In some cases, the relief work of the stone was so prominent that the sides of the megalith were beginning to fall away. That very evening, they installed a freshly hewn stone in place of one that had literally been eaten to nothing. It was Timon’s responsibility as leader to repair and replace such stones. Jale stepped forward and drew fresh outlines of the animals and plants that had adorned the original stone. The dedication complete, each licked the stone, being careful to accurately trace the shapes, beginning the process of erosion afresh.
Satiated, all sat down within the stone circle of giants, with Bakar alone in the centre.
“Bakar is our hope; he who chooses is chosen; honour the gift with aurum; give freely, receive freely.”
Lithi, having spoken the words, was the first to lean forward, placing his hands on the ground, presenting his face to Bakar, much in the same way as Saami begged for food. Bakar swivelled around on his buttocks to face Lithi, smiling as the game began. Using his tongue, he searched for the precious gift of aurum, darting in behind the old man’s ear, in the depths of his eyelids, at the corner of his mouth. A game learned as a child to perfect the skill of finding the salts within the crevices of the cliffs. He found the tiny, flat, thin disc of aurum balanced on the top of the old man’s head. With practised ease, he slipped the very tip of his tongue into the hole within the centre of the disc and lifted it, drawing his tongue back into his mouth. The process was repeated with each member of the tribe. Mica was last to lean forward. Bakar hesitated, fearing that Mica would demand that he delve into places that he did not wish now to delve. Just as he feared, he found the disc between his bedmate’s lips.
“Mica! Why make this harder?”
He probed lightly and liberated the disc; all the while, Mica kept his eyes closed - a sign of mourning. With the eyes closed, one could not see Vega, therefore, one aped the dead.
“Sal for aurum-aurum for life-life for Via Mia-Via Mia for Vega-Vega forever ... Cacama!” bellowed Lithi, belying his years.
“CACAMA!” repeated the tribe, Bakar the loudest, already feeling the effects of the aurum as it dissolved and flowed through his veins.
Unsure if his eyes were open or closed, he saw the circle and his tribe fall away, leaving him suspended in Space, surrounded by the seven moons of Via Mia.
“I am Vega ...”
Looking down, he saw that his skin was beginning to radiate a pure light, one which was being refracted by the crystals of salt that encrusted his whole body, splitting the light into a trillion beams of colour.
Sensing the change, his soul grew like a crystal, like those on the sun field where the tribe huddled for warmth sometimes. Pulsing heat, resembling a heart without the sound of the beat, pushed outward to the edge of the envelope of his skin, and there dissipated like the grains of salt that got blown away by the wind. Behind the heat, a space, shaped like a rod, which stretched from the crown of his head to the base of his manhood, a stem, thicker than his thumb but not as thick as his wrist, which glowed like aurum and tasted like salt - twin essences of life.
“I am Vega ...”
Every liberated beam of light moved out to form connections with every star in the Cave of Life, which some called the Universe. As if fishing with a line and hook, he dragged the stars back to his soul, filling the rod-like space, which no longer glowed but, like molten salt, moved in a rolling boil, rising and sinking in a never ending cycle.
The rod filled his mind, dissecting it cleanly from top to bottom, branching along its length both to one side and the other to form a series of parallel horizontal lines; each of which branched to form parallel vertical lines and in so doing, drew a grid that, once complete, morphed into the shape of his heart, which began beating to the rhythm of Lithi’s meditation gong. And in the moment of recognition, he woke up and found himself alone in front of the gates of the portal.
“I am Vega no more; I am Bakar of the Shuruppak and I am chosen ...”
He shook his head to gather his senses. In so doing, he noticed the copper box beside him, within which was housed the cloaking suit and the other cloaking device. He moved and felt the drag of the Centum Path Finder, still attached to his belt. And in his hand, a piece of highly polished copper upon which his father had neatly embossed a message for ORMUS.
‘For five ingots, traded in good faith’
Bakar rose to his feet and brushed the dust from his arms and legs. Vega rose with him, inching above the horizon until, a quintal later, she was free of the black kiss of the edge of Mia Via and ascended steadily while the seven moons gravitated to the place in the sky where they would align perfectly to eclipse her.
Bakar reached down and tested the woven copper straps attached to the box. With some difficulty, he slung the box on his back by slipping his arms through the loops.
“What had Lithi said?”
“Walk forward steadily; look neither right nor left; concentrate on the white-in-black disc at the end of the path. In the eye of the storm, find the voices and the hands that will guide you ... Simple enough. I wish I had seen Doman before I had to leave.”
Instinctively, his hand went to the pouch and the pathfinder.
“Sal for aurum-aurum for life-life for Via Mia-Via Mia for Vega-Vega forever ... Cacama.”
By now the seventh moon - Aira - had eclipsed the sixth - Antuab, which together now eclipsed the fifth - Ansalli.
“Vega both mother and father, brother and sister, son and daughter ...”
Ansesseli - the fourth moon - moved behind the black disc, which hung barely the width of his index finger from the burning edge of Vega. Next, Ansodi was eaten by the shadow, and the gap had closed to the width of his little finger.
“Mia Via is home and hearth ...”
Ansolli, the second moon, slipped behind the rest and, within the blink of an eye, Con moved last, to form the circle, which now touched Vega - the moment in time had its own name - Oscul.
Bakar shuffled his feet to find a firmer stance, knowing that the door would open within a quintal. Despite Lithi assuring him that none of the tribe would be present as a precaution should the portal fail, he felt strangely abandoned given the importance of his task.
The black disc of the seven perfectly aligned moons crept across the surface of the sun and his pulse quickened, craving the waiting to be over. No one who had ever made the journey was now alive - he had been born after the last had died - Doman’s grandfather. Doman had been his hope; confident that his friend would return, he had chosen, knowing that Doman would have guided him.
He took a step forward, mesmerized by the sight of the co-joined orbs as they moved to fill the space between the upright pillars of the portal’s framework. He’d examined it many times; neither stone, salt or copper. He had tasted it and found that it reminded him of the taste of blood; only then ashamed to have hoped, and feeling disappointed too, that it hadn’t tasted of Mica.
“Mica; I could not choose you ... please forgive me ...”
Vega was now half-obscured, and in the twilight, which was now descending fast, the stars began to emerge - Deino, Enyo and Pemphredo - the grey sisters of the story told at the hearth-side. The sisters, covetous of the beauty of their cousin Vega, made a pact with the moons to steal her eye in return for releasing the moons from servitude. The sisters reneged on the promise. The moons gave back to Vega her eye.
He stepped forward again, realigning the orbs between the pillars, sensing the energy beginning to flow from the heart of his beloved Mia Via. It was said that in the dim and distant past when the portal opened, the fields of triticum would grow to full height - even if the seeds had barely rooted - and ripen within a heartbeat. He did not want to think of the story that told of the wasting of the land - their name never sullied Mia Via’s precious atmosphere.
He shivered; the light of Vega was weak and most of the land beyond the plinth upon which the portal pillars stood was now in darkness. He stepped onto the plinth to avoid tripping in the gloom; another step and he would be at the given place at the appointed time. He looked down and could just make out the impressions left in the ground by the feet of the travellers who had preceded him. He counted to ten and stepped forward, straightening his back and throwing his shoulders into a defiant pose, thrusting his chin out as if to say - claim me if you dare!
Exquisitely and yet malevolently, the moons completed their journey and eclipsed Vega. He knew what to expect. A tiny dazzling orb would appear in the centre of the space between the two pillars.
“Here it is ...”
Then it would start to grow.
“Your eye is closed; weep not for me when you open it and see me gone ...”
The spinning disc expanded to fill the entire space between the uprights. As soon as the edge of the disc touched the pillars, the sound, like a gong, resonated deeply throughout the space and set the rod within him vibrating. He spoke the protection words -
“Passing into shadow, my heart melts as the dusk.
The night, open like a wound, worn as a mantle.
Heptad of jealous slaves held in thrall;
Bewitched, cursed; bargain made, paid in folly.
Now the gaoler, prisoner be.
Time is stone, smooth’ed by the calloused finger.
Coin thy blood, prosper in emptiness.
Listen; quiet!
Demand the gold of sweat and the silver of tears.
Open your eyes!
Tread carefully the path.
Slake thy thirst on eclips’ed dawn’s dew.
Fix your eye in the place where dreams come true.
If belief be worthy, my duty to you is done;
Do yours ...”
The night, open like a wound, worn as a mantle.
Heptad of jealous slaves held in thrall;
Bewitched, cursed; bargain made, paid in folly.
Now the gaoler, prisoner be.
Time is stone, smooth’ed by the calloused finger.
Coin thy blood, prosper in emptiness.
Listen; quiet!
Demand the gold of sweat and the silver of tears.
Open your eyes!
Tread carefully the path.
Slake thy thirst on eclips’ed dawn’s dew.
Fix your eye in the place where dreams come true.
If belief be worthy, my duty to you is done;
Do yours ...”
Within the disc it appeared to him that the whole Universe was at once exposed and hidden; and when he concentrated on one part, he immediately felt drawn to another, and in so doing, never focused but found his eyes swimming.
“Mindfulness!”
Before the word had died, the black hole appeared in the centre of the disc and started to grow, and where it grew there was nothing except the impression of a tunnel, like the caves on Mia Via.
It grew steadily and he focused on the centre, watching for the emergence of the path. The disc slowed down and what appeared to be a solid surface at first bowed outwards, almost touching him, then it sank back, appearing to collapse, and from the centre of the disc a path of light coalesced, reaching into the void.
“Step forward!”
Taking the step to place one foot on the path was the single most difficult thing he had ever done; everything screamed at him to stop and turn back.
“Quieten the voice!”
Bringing his other foot forward to stand with both feet on the path took all of his concentration. Once he had, the beat of the gong became louder and more insistent and he felt compelled to walk, and yet even with the first of the steps, the compulsion to look to his left and right was so powerful that he almost turned and bolted.
“Guide me, Vega, mother and father, brother and sister, son and daughter.”
Half-blinded by the sweat that ran into his eyes, he still found the place to look and imagined the hands and voices that would welcome him - that proved to be a source of strength.
He could not honestly say that he was aware of taking steps, or of gliding or flying or even moving in any real sense but inexorably, he did become aware of the end of the tunnel moving closer. What began as a dot soon turned into a disc, through which he saw a clear blue surface that then revealed shapes and colours only seen in pictograms. Hot, dry breaths buffeted his cheeks, chest, thighs and shins - he swore he could taste something familiar - salt?
His mind soared on a cloud of optimism.
“Sal for aurum-aurum for life-life for Via Mia-Via Mia for Vega-Vega forever ... Cacama.”
Riotous confusion, chaos, and turbulence of some kind erupted all around him and he nearly turned, and he was not sure how he had prevented himself from doing so.
“I must not fail! They need me! I am Bakar!”
The path, until then a smooth, regular straight line, began to warp and feel rough beneath his feet; sharp stones pricked his soles and larger rocks threatened to twist his ankles. His feet became wet and cold; he marvelled at the sensation of what he could only imagine must be flowing water - something like the hand of Mica - sweeping over his thighs. The sound of the gong grew louder and the beat quickened, invading his thoughts, blotting out the chaos, resonating with the rod as if they were one - maybe they were.
Shouting - voices much like his own - joyful, triumphant voices masking pain and sorrow - two waves, one small and one large. Then a scream, itself distorted by a wave of cracking sounds which reminded him of the large salt cakes that burst when they became too hot. A stench assaulted his nostrils; the reek of burning flesh - his grandmother’s corpse.
“Take my hand!”
He heard the words; they sounded like music.
“Come on! There isn’t much time. Hurry!”
Falling forward onto his knees; that is how it felt to him. Instinctively, he reached out to stay his fall, trying to keep his eyes on the disc. When his hands met no resistance, he immediately looked down, and instantly struck a hard surface such that the breath was driven from his lungs.
“Gotcha!”
He opened his eyes and tried to focus.
“Relax; you made it.”
A crushing heat, a cacophony of unfamiliar sounds, alien scents and the taste of blood in his mouth were like hands that slapped his face. He tried to roll over but the box prevented him from getting onto his back.
“Let me help you.”
Hands appeared and forced their way under his arms. A jolt, following which, nausea bloomed; his head swam and he coughed, choking on the blood, which he spat out, lamenting the waste of good minerals.
“Look at me; are you okay?”
Looking to the side, he saw a face, a young face, not unlike Doman’s.
“What is your name?”
“Bbbakar ... Bakar.”
“Welcome to Earth, Bakar.”
“Mindfulness!”
Before the word had died, the black hole appeared in the centre of the disc and started to grow, and where it grew there was nothing except the impression of a tunnel, like the caves on Mia Via.
It grew steadily and he focused on the centre, watching for the emergence of the path. The disc slowed down and what appeared to be a solid surface at first bowed outwards, almost touching him, then it sank back, appearing to collapse, and from the centre of the disc a path of light coalesced, reaching into the void.
“Step forward!”
Taking the step to place one foot on the path was the single most difficult thing he had ever done; everything screamed at him to stop and turn back.
“Quieten the voice!”
Bringing his other foot forward to stand with both feet on the path took all of his concentration. Once he had, the beat of the gong became louder and more insistent and he felt compelled to walk, and yet even with the first of the steps, the compulsion to look to his left and right was so powerful that he almost turned and bolted.
“Guide me, Vega, mother and father, brother and sister, son and daughter.”
Half-blinded by the sweat that ran into his eyes, he still found the place to look and imagined the hands and voices that would welcome him - that proved to be a source of strength.
He could not honestly say that he was aware of taking steps, or of gliding or flying or even moving in any real sense but inexorably, he did become aware of the end of the tunnel moving closer. What began as a dot soon turned into a disc, through which he saw a clear blue surface that then revealed shapes and colours only seen in pictograms. Hot, dry breaths buffeted his cheeks, chest, thighs and shins - he swore he could taste something familiar - salt?
His mind soared on a cloud of optimism.
“Sal for aurum-aurum for life-life for Via Mia-Via Mia for Vega-Vega forever ... Cacama.”
Riotous confusion, chaos, and turbulence of some kind erupted all around him and he nearly turned, and he was not sure how he had prevented himself from doing so.
“I must not fail! They need me! I am Bakar!”
The path, until then a smooth, regular straight line, began to warp and feel rough beneath his feet; sharp stones pricked his soles and larger rocks threatened to twist his ankles. His feet became wet and cold; he marvelled at the sensation of what he could only imagine must be flowing water - something like the hand of Mica - sweeping over his thighs. The sound of the gong grew louder and the beat quickened, invading his thoughts, blotting out the chaos, resonating with the rod as if they were one - maybe they were.
Shouting - voices much like his own - joyful, triumphant voices masking pain and sorrow - two waves, one small and one large. Then a scream, itself distorted by a wave of cracking sounds which reminded him of the large salt cakes that burst when they became too hot. A stench assaulted his nostrils; the reek of burning flesh - his grandmother’s corpse.
“Take my hand!”
He heard the words; they sounded like music.
“Come on! There isn’t much time. Hurry!”
Falling forward onto his knees; that is how it felt to him. Instinctively, he reached out to stay his fall, trying to keep his eyes on the disc. When his hands met no resistance, he immediately looked down, and instantly struck a hard surface such that the breath was driven from his lungs.
“Gotcha!”
He opened his eyes and tried to focus.
“Relax; you made it.”
A crushing heat, a cacophony of unfamiliar sounds, alien scents and the taste of blood in his mouth were like hands that slapped his face. He tried to roll over but the box prevented him from getting onto his back.
“Let me help you.”
Hands appeared and forced their way under his arms. A jolt, following which, nausea bloomed; his head swam and he coughed, choking on the blood, which he spat out, lamenting the waste of good minerals.
“Look at me; are you okay?”
Looking to the side, he saw a face, a young face, not unlike Doman’s.
“What is your name?”
“Bbbakar ... Bakar.”
“Welcome to Earth, Bakar.”
