Young Writers Society

From the balcony, I watched the women in the courtyard beat a carpet with spiked mallets, felting the threads of a story into an image, baptizing something that had just died, eulogizing something newly born.

The sun was like honey, but the women kept pounding, sweat trickling down their wrinkled arms. The rug had been left out in the morning fog that blew in from the sea. I could still smell the wet wool. I imagined a sheared sheep was probably wandering the hills, a bell tied around its naked neck to scare away the wolves.

Leaning against the railing, my thoughts shifted to the shepherd boy I’d slept with that night. He’d slipped out of my room before the fog had cleared. We’d planned to meet later in the afternoon, out in the olive groves, but he'd warned me his sheep could be unpredictable. Sometimes they led him deep into the folds of the hills. Out there, he told me, alone, swallowed by mist in the mornings, and the cosmos at night, he felt a bit like a sheep himself, or maybe a wolf.

I yawned, drumming my fingers to the same rhythm as the mallets. I ran my tongue over my chapped lips, shivering despite the oppressive light. I had Seltek to translate and equations to factor, but I couldn’t seem to pull myself away from the morning routine unfolding in the courtyard and the imagined infinity unfolding outside the compound’s walls. Blinking, I lifted my hands from the railing, and retreated back into the shade of the loggia. My tutor would be waiting for me.

Aga-Ege was sitting on a stool with his back to me, staring out the window, when I entered the study. “You’re late.”

“I was daydreaming.”

“About what?” He still hadn’t turned to face me.

“Will you be disappointed if I say something other than the sun?”

“Yes.”

“Then, I was meditating on how the sun itself hadn’t reached the scrubbed square of blue sky framed by the walls of the courtyard, yet I was touched by its light.” I grinned. “I was also contemplating my lover who disappeared with the first hint of dawn.”

The old man lept off his stool by the window with surprising agility. He grabbed a candle, striking a match against the limestone wall. I joined him, kneeling on the rug at the center of the room. “What’s the candle for? It’s morning, and an excruciatingly bright morning at that.”

Aga-Ege didn’t respond, instead, whispering a prayer, he tugged the wick from the wax like he was pulling a worm from the earth, the flame continuing to flicker at the end of the string. I flinched.

“It’s time for you to meet your father, Tetue-Tala, speaker of light, face that burns away the coal of night.”

I felt my shoulders simultaneously sag and straighten. I’d been preparing for this encounter since I’d been old enough to trace the shape of stories, but still the sun felt so far away.

Though I knew the nature of the task almost better than I knew my own name, he repeated my instructions. “You must travel to the top of Yuem mountain, and return with a beam of sunlight.” He pulled a small blue bottle from his pocket, handing it to me. What would happen if I let it slip from my fingers and shatter against the floor? Would the quest itself disappear?

“When do I leave?”

“Ten days.” He paused, smirking slightly. “Make sure you get your translation of The Tree and the Measuring Stick finished before you leave.”

“What good are these Seltek parables now that I must ignore their warnings to accomplish my destiny?”

“The Selteks know how to live without Gods.” The sage answered cryptically, closing his eyes. “And also, therefore, without fathers.” He flicked his finger. “No point in having class, I know you won’t be able to focus.”

The Yeum mountain range formed a wall at the end of the world. Beyond lay a different world, a world behind the horizon, a world you could only reach after you left your frozen body behind in the mountain passes. Sometimes, the people who had made the journey visited me in my dreams. They said the crossing felt like waking up. But I would only be allowed to reach the precipice before returning.

I started drumming my fingers on the railing of the balcony again. The women in the courtyard were still felting the rug. But from this distance, I couldn’t see any changes in the texture.

While I was deciding whether to call for tea or my horse, a servant approached me with summons from my mother. I followed as he trotted around the tiled loggia towards the women’s quarters on the other side of the compound.

I pulled back the thick curtain and peered around the door frame. Mother groaned as the day struck her. The room smelled of incense and sweat. In the dim light, I could barely make out her eyes behind the veil of orange silk she wore over her face. It was easier to see her heavy gold earrings which glimmered dully even in the near darkness.

“Come, child,” She beckoned, her voice hoarse.

I knelt beside her. “What’s the matter, mother?”

“You don’t need to go. You can stay here with me.” She reached out a pale hand, stroking my cheek. I looked up, making eye contact with the nearest of her lady’s maids. “How did she hear that I’m leaving? Aga just told me a few moments ago that the time had come.”

The woman shrugged helplessly. “It was in one of her premonitions.”

I tried to stand up, but mother seized my wrist. “Sleep.” My eyelids fluttered. My hand went limp in her grip.

Biting my lip, I shook my head. “No, mother.” I softened my voice until it was barely above a whisper. My magic wasn’t as primal as hers, so I hoped love would be enough. “You go back to sleep. You’re not well. You need rest.”

I stood up, addressing the lady’s maid who had watched the exchange in stricken silence. “Bring cold water and washcloth. I think she has a fever.” I turned towards the door, pausing. “And bring her some lemon water as well. Sweeten it with plenty of honey. It will ease her throat. You know how she loves to sing.”

Back in the daylight I took a deep breath, sprinting down to the stables. I wrapped my arms around my horse’s neck. He quivered as the stable boy slid a saddle over his back, stomping his hoof. Klahe was the fastest horse in the whole world. Father had sent him to me for my twelfth birthday. The guard spotted him galloping from the hills. The horse neighed at the walls until we opened the gate, but refused to let anyone but me ride him. I named him moon as a small rebellion. At the time, I didn’t know that the moon actually reflected the sun’s light.

We trotted into the courtyard. The weavers looked up from their work. The steady rhythm of the women’s mallets was blurred by the sound of Klahe’s hooves on the cobblestone. I urged him on, towards the gate. The guards pulled open the portcullis, and we sped through. I loved to ride. I’d always supposed it was because my father was fighting an endless battle, a battle I longed, however subconsciously, to escape.

Even though I doubted my lover would be there, I headed to the olive groves. It was only a short ride away from the compound. But the sun was so hot by the time I arrived, I was sweating through my clothes. To my surprise, Geme-awen was already waiting.

Holding a pail full of olives, he waved. “ilil, have you ever tried to eat an olive fresh from the tree?”

I furrowed my brows. It seemed like something I would have tried at some point. “I don’t think so.”

He held out the hard green fruit.

I nibbled the end, making a face. “Bitter.” I popped the whole thing in my mouth. “Give me another.” He laughed, tossing me an olive.

“I haven't had lunch.” I admitted.

“Me neither.”

“I had to get out of the compound.”

“What happened?”

“Aga informed me the time had come for me to meet my father. I have ten days to prepare myself for the journey.”

He glanced up at the sun. “Can he hear us?”

I shrugged. “Only if he is listening.” I put my hands around my mouth, shouting up at the sky. “Hey, father, if you’re there, let’s have a little chat, let’s get this over with right now.” Nothing happened. “I don’t think he is listening.” I grabbed another olive from Geme’s pail, spitting out the pit. “I really don’t think he is listening.”

He shuffled his sandaled feet, kicking up a small cloud of dust which settled over his toes. “Shall we find some lunch?”

“Where? I’m not ready to return to the compound.”

“We could bring these olives back to my house. My brother is watching the sheep. And Mother baked a loaf of bread just yesterday.”

“As long as I won’t be imposing.”

“We love guests.”

I mounted Klahe, and Geme hesitantly climbed on behind, wrapping his arms tightly around me. He gave a little yelp as we began to gallop. We sprinted up the river gorge, the hills blurring past.

“I’ve never ridden before.” He admitted, embarrassed. I urged Klahe even faster. He dug his fingernails into my sides, scrunching the bright white linen of my tunic in his fists.

“Slow down! The bread isn’t going anywhere.” He reconsidered, laughing. “Well, unless my brother has already returned. If that’s the case we will be lucky to get crumbs.” He trailed off, his breath stolen away by our speed. “Ish!” He cursed. “We’re going fast.”

“Klahe can go faster than this.”

“Please don’t…” I glanced behind me. He looked a little nauseous. I slowed to a trot. He pointed up a small seasonal stream to our right which was completely dry. “We’re camping at the end of this gully.”

“I can’t believe I’ve never been to your place before.”

He shrugged. “We’ve only lived in this gully since the snow hit the highlands a couple of cycles ago.” He led me towards a sprawling woolen tent.“We settle down here when the weather in the mountains starts to change. If the winter gets really bitter, we sometimes work at the farms in the valley in exchange for a warm place to sleep. But it takes a strong storm to break my father’s will.”

I tucked away the charm I wore around my neck. I tried to pull my tunic over my bracelets, but the sleeves weren’t quite long enough. I grimaced at the glint of gold peeking out from under the fabric, hoping Geme’s family wouldn’t be able to read the writing inscribed around the bands. I didn't know whether they were literate. This encounter would be awkward enough without getting tangled in already spun stories. Out of nervous habit, I tried to pull the bracelets off. But, like always, they wouldn’t budge. They had been welded onto my wrists as a child, growing with me. Despite also being an emblem, a latent puzzle of my tarnished divinity, the charm I wore of my own free will. Or perhaps it was from a sense of duty, or maybe some kind of hidden pride.

Geme grabbed my hand, lifting it above his head. “This is my friend ilil-ama-atala .” He didn’t hesitate before using my full name. I grimaced, wishing I could hide for a moment. Geme’s mother approached. She wore the headdress of a proud highland woman, strung with plain metal beads.

She knelt, glancing nervously up at her son. As a demigod, and the only child of the valley’s disgraced Lady, my name was, of course, immediately recognizable. A young girl peeked out from behind a complicated black and white tapestry.

“My mother, Kelel-Nani.” Geme gestured to the girl. “And my sister, We-Awen.”

I bid Kelel rise, pecking Geme on the cheek. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.” Her eyes darted between us, reaching out to test the threads which tied us together. I couldn’t tell whether she approved of our union, or if she could tell we were like two ships which happened to be making their way out of a dark harbor together, towards two different ports.