Nahi
It is late afternoon now and we have stopped for a moment to let our horses rest and have a drink of water before moving on until nightfall. There is a small stream here – a cold silent vein from the snow-covered peaks so far above. Myria has walked away for a moment, most likely washing her face in the cool water nearby. Akuli mentioned to us moments ago that some small game are about in these woods (most likely due to the stream’s proximity). Pulling out his bow, he walked away quietly and for the first time today I am optimistic that we will all share a warm dinner tonight.
Only my harasha is alone with me now, and he has not uttered a single word to anyone since we met earlier by the western gate. Had I known better I would think he was a mute. Now the man is sitting on the ground, resting his back up against a log. I can tell sometimes he looks at me from behind his black mask, but right now he is gazing out into the forest as if wondering where the other two went.
And so while I wait alone here with my silent companion, I think I shall take the time to write down the events of the day, starting with our solemn exit from the city before sunrise.
We approached the western gate just before dawn and without me ever realizing it. There was a damp fog which hung in the air such that we could only see a few feet in front of us. The large iron oil lamps on the street had halos around them and Chaliani and I both moved through the mist as if in a dream.
One of the golden lights up ahead was moving, its halo getting bigger. Then I realized I could hear the sound of horses' trotting feet hitting the sandy stone pavers up on ahead – somewhere through the gray mist.
“Akuli, is that you?” Chaliani called out.
A voice rang out. “Yes, my Eye.”
The light slowly enveloped us all. Akuli’s arm lifted high, the brightness of his lantern revealed everyone in a warm glow. Myria was there by his side, holding the bridle reins of two dark horses which stood patiently next to her. Akuli held the reins of a third in the other hand.
Myria cautiously smiled then at me then under the warm glow of the lamplight, and I realized at that moment that I was content. So immeasurably glad I was that she was there, I knew immediately that this trip was not one of exile. It was anything but that. Anywhere she was there could be no place of exile.
“Myria,” Chaliani called out in surprise. “What are you doing here, my dear?”
“I am coming with them,” she said.
He quickly looked at Akuli and then at me. “You both knew about this, gauging from your reaction.”
I nodded. “Yes, we discussed it earlier today,” I said.
He slowly looked back at Myria, shaking his head. “I know you well enough to realize that you understand the seriousness of what you do, and that I have no chance of dissuading you. Your father will be very upset when he finds out, though.”
“Please do not tell him, my Eye,” Myria said. “I beg of you.”
“He will wonder why you have gone missing.”
“Actually, my Eye, he is used to that. I have a tendency to wander.”
He exhaled. “Fine, then,” he said. “I have not seen you tonight.” Then addressing the slender young guard across from me, “Akuli, you will watch them closely. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my Eye,” he said flatly.
“And you,” he said, turning to me. “I am sorry it has come to this. I cannot protect you any longer. Perhaps, though, you do not need protecting. Perhaps this is what is meant to happen.” He was searching through his thick furs with a free hand while he spoke and then finally uttered a groan as he pulled out a roll of parchment, slightly larger than the ones I use to write this journal. He handed it to me and I asked him what it was.
“Another dream ripped out of the Book of the Intercessors. I know you could not possibly carry that entire tome across this fair island, so I tore a crucial page out for you.” He was pointing at the roll as I placed it in my pack. “If you want to know why they hate you,” he said. “Read it sometime and perhaps you may come to understand the root of their fear.”
“And what will happen to you?” I asked. Then looking at Myria, I remembered her father. “And to Haarth?”
He shrugged his shoulders slightly. “We will both be fine, Anon. Ultimately everything depends upon the manner of your return. If you succeed in what you are looking for. This is always where my future has laid in the balance, but who am I to complain? I am no different than anybody. All of us here on Nahi, we are ultimately dependent on you.” He stretched his arms out, touching Akuli and Myria on the shoulder. “All three of you, as it now seems. And so this is goodbye, for now. Ah, look. Even your guide is here.”
I turned around as I followed Chaliani’s gaze and breathed in sharply in surprise. Just within our field of vision was a single man on horseback shrouded in black. He stood there completely still, wisps of night fog swirling around him. Only his black horse made a quiet nicker, perhaps as a sign of greeting.
After an uncomfortable pause I called out to him, simply asking “Are you ready?”
“He will not speak to you,” said Chaliani. “Nor to any of your travel companions, so there is no point in speaking to him.”
“Right,” I said.
Turning back to Chaliani, I shook his hand then, only saying “I guess this is farewell, my Eye.” It was the first time I had used the honorary title with him.
“Goodbye gardener.” And then he turned and walked away.
Within seconds Chaliani was lost in the fog and an odd sense came over me. I knew I would miss the elder man, for he was a good friend of mine, but that was not quite it. By his leaving, and only the three of us standing in the shelter of our sphere of light, I immediately experienced a sense of weightlessness. As if the politics of my coming here were a heavy robe (like the type which Chaliani or Haarth wears), and I was finally able to cast it off, letting it fall onto on the cobblestones at my feet. We were finally free to simply be, without worry or complication.
But then after turning around to face the direction we were headed, I saw my harasha again in the mist and the weight seemed to return.
I asked how far we had to go before exiting the city.
Myria smiled. "We are nearly upon the western gate. There, if you look closely enough. Do you see it?"
"No," I said, still straining my eyes into the gray.
"You are not looking high enough," she said.
I looked higher up.
"Higher," she said playfully.
And that's when I saw it. The wall was so high that I could not see the topmost edge of it until I arched my head as if gazing at the stars. Then I saw a lighter field of gray against a darker field of gray. It was the wall ending, and the night sky beginning.
Despite my expectations that our first day would be slowed by the congestion of the city, surprisingly we have made very good progress thus far. Within hours of passing through the western gate, the buildings thinned out and the farms took over, their lonely colored barns and sheds dotting the rolling landscape like forgotten statuary. Just a short time ago we entered the shelter of this thinning forest and are now surrounded by a beautiful sparse pine grove. Tall slender trees stand in every direction, the dirt path we are taking twisting through them, following the river. I am lying on a soft bed of fallen needles as I write this.
Myria has just returned, her dark hair damp with clear spring water.
I will write more later. Our harasha has mounted his horse and is looking back at us expectantly, signaling that it is time to leave. Good news: there are two rabbit carcasses strung up with twine down the side of Akuli’s horse. It amazes me – back on Cassidian even the richest Canopian citizens would have a hard time affording such a real meal, yet here I am about to eat it for free. Perhaps this knowledge makes me feel hungrier than I already am, or perhaps it is simply that I know we will not eat until sundown – a few hours from now. Our harasha is driving us hard, but this is good. I am eager to see our destination, so we can finally be rid of this masked stranger.