Rhuna- Black City Page 6

  Rhuna watched the wave of horror and dismay cross each face.

  “When did this massacre occur?” Damell inquired.

  “Ten generations in the past,” answered Stillness of the Lake.

  Another lengthy and heavy silence ensued, and Rhuna felt a cold weight press down on her chest as she grasped the full horror of the report.

  “Could this be the same incident that was recorded by the changing texts in the Depository of Archival Records?” Rhuna wondered.

  “Possibly,” answered Protector of Remembrance. “The report we have received informed us of changes in the Atlan oral tradition of recorded history, namely the deaths of ninety-five Atlan men and women who journeyed to the Black City to combat the Dark Forces there.”

  “These men and women had previously lived a long and normal life, according to the descendants who memorized and passed on the oral history of their families,” Preserver of Faith added. “Now those lives have been abruptly terminated, and the lives of their descendants have also been drastically altered in some cases.”

  “This is deeply disturbing news,” Damell said gloomily.

  “The report said killed by unexplained means,” Aradin remarked, repeating the strange phrase. “What does this mean?”

  “The new or altered Atlan history tell of weapons flying by themselves, as if the assailants were invisible or out of sight, even though the Atlans were in an open field at the time,” explained Greeter of Friends.

  “Weapons flying by themselves? Invisible assailants?” Goram repeated, his green eyes flashing intense curiosity. “These are new powers and skills developed by the Dark One!”

  Rhuna heard undertones of envy and admiration in Goram’s voice as she looked at him and then at Lozira with growing unease.

  “But that is terrible!” Lozira exclaimed, wide-eyed with alarm.

  “Could it be merely an illusion, or an error in the report?” asked Mohandu, his head wobbling uncertainly.

  “It is possible that the Dark One has developed new skills,” Damell said gravely.

  “Yes, I believe that, too,” Yarqi added.

  “Our entire Atlan heritage is threatened by the Dark One’s destructive actions!” Protector of Remembrance uttered vehemently. Rhuna noticed that his white beard was trembling, and she felt the gravity of the situation slowly descend upon her like a suffocating wet blanket.

  “We must take action immediately!” Preserver of Faith said forcefully.

  “My Rapid Transport Enclosure is still stuck in ice on the plateau above this abode,” Rhuna explained.

  “And even if we could leave right now, what can we do when we get to the Black City?” asked Aradin.

  “Yes, yes,” Protector of Remembrance muttered as he tugged his beard in agitation. “We must be calm and act decisively, not impulsively. Our deepest emotions have been piqued by this news due to our specialized fields.”

  “Specialized fields?” Lozira asked.

  “Yes. As my name implies, my field of expertise is the oral history of the Atlan Empire; securing its most valuable lessons and traditions and ensuring the continuation of such history,” explained Protector of Remembrance.

  “And it is my responsibility to maintain the social harmony and moral integrity of the Atlan Empire,” added Preserver of Faith, her voice deep and calm again.

  Rhuna looked at Greeter of Friends and remembered his skill in learning languages and communicating with foreigners in the mountain ranges of Atlán.

  “My name is perhaps the least-suited to my expertise as negotiator and mediator,” Stillness of the Lake commented.

  “No, I think it’s very suitable,” Rhuna said. “One has to be very calm, like a still lake, to mediate strong differences and arguments.”

  “That is so,” said the mature woman with a gentle smile. Rhuna remembered her stable and strong green aura in The Infinite, and concluded that she must be a very competent mediator.

  “How was it possible for you to receive a message from the High Council of Atlán?” Mohandu asked, looking from one Atlan face to the other. “It is not possible for us to summon messages or visions by means of the Gazing of the Waters in this land.”

  “It really is not possible?” asked Stillness of the Lake with some surprise.

  “The high altitude of these peaks, the low quality of the air and its inability to conduct certain energy combine to prevent the normal function of our traditional Atlan communications,” explained Damell.

  “Ah, that is the reason for the mental communication between the Masters of this land,” Stillness of the Lake said with a nod.

  “We instructed the Masters residing in the Valley of Flowers to access the Gazing of the Waters on our behalf, and relay any important messages to us by their own unique method,” Protector of Remembrance explained.

  “The Masters in the Valley can use the Gazing of the Waters?” Lozira asked, surprised.

  “The Masters of this land are at least our equals,” answered Protector of Remembrance. “Their skills merely developed differently from those of us in Atlán.”

  “We shall resume summoning of messages by means of the Gazing of the Waters as soon as we arrive on lower ground,” Greeter of Friends added, and then looked at Rhuna. “Is your transport vessel large enough for all of us?”

  Rhuna looked around at all the people in the room, suddenly aware that her RTE was not big enough to carry everyone.

  “No, it isn’t,” she muttered.

  “Then we shall journey in two separate, smaller groups!” Greeter of Friends quickly suggested.

  “We shall journey separately from you,” Goram interjected as he placed one arm around Lozira and gestured with the other towards Yarqi and Mohandu. “We already agreed on such a plan, yet now…” Goram paused and looked at Tozar. “Now we have a new situation.”

  “Harbinger of Solace is a valuable member of our group,” Protector of Remembrance stated.

  “Do you know what he has done?” Goram challenged, pointing accusingly at Tozar.

  “We know,” said Stillness of the Lake firmly. “He has convinced us of his full recovery from mental collapse and irrational behaviour.”

  “Irrational behaviour!” scoffed Goram.

  Tozar raised his eyes quickly to look at the angry green-eyed Atlan, and then looked away again. “My full recovery can only be achieved by expressing my profound regret to all of you personally, and by endeavouring to provide some recompense.”

  Goram opened his mouth to speak when Protector of Remembrance shot to his feet and clapped his hands.

  “These matters can be discussed in coming days, My Friends! Let us retire and resume our deliberations in the morning.”

  Rhuna was grateful for the Atlan man’s timely discernment, and quickly turned her attention to Lozira and the tension between Goram and Tozar.

  “Do not concern yourself with this issue,” Goram barked.

  “But there is no issue anymore,” Lozira urged, tugging at Goram’s garment. “Let us continue with each day as before.”

  Goram looked deep into his young wife’s face, searching for her fear and needs.

  “There is no need to be protective,” Lozira continued. “My condition is stable now. It was only the shock of seeing Tozar. It was completely unexpected.”

  “Yes. Unexpected,” Goram nodded, his voice calmer yet still slightly uncertain.

  Rhuna watched Goram and Lozira retreat into the adjoining room, and then turned to see Tozar following the Atlan representatives. Shandi emerged from the corner where she had been playing silently with Panapu, tracing lines and markings in fine rice powder on a smooth board.

  “Look, Din-Din! Look, Rhuna,” she called to her parents.

  Rhuna looked at the board on the floor in front of Shandi and realized that distinct lines were deliberately drawn into the powder.

  “Is that writing?” Aradin asked his small daughter in a playful voice.

  Shandi nodded her head proudly.


  “What does it say?” Rhuna asked in a similar cheerful tone.

  “It’s Rhuna’s name,” Shandi answered simply, and then stood up to take Aradin’s hand.

  “It doesn’t look like any writing I’ve seen in the Depository,” Rhuna remarked as they left the room.

  “She’s just playing,” Aradin said with a smile.

  Rhuna awoke early the following morning when she heard the fast shuffle of feet outside her sleeping alcove. She jumped to her feet and felt for Aradin in the dark when she heard him stir.

  “Something’s going on,” Aradin murmured as he clambered out of the blankets.

  Rhuna quickly pulled on her clothes and followed the noisy footsteps in the corridors until she reached one of the common rooms. She looked around and saw the native residents of the mountain-top abode bustling excitedly back and forth, carrying various items such as blankets, urns and food bowls.

  “What’s going on?” Aradin asked Duga, the friendly resident who understood the Atlan language.

  “Snow and ice almost gone,” he said happily. “Much work to do now! Washing, cleaning, let animals out and prepare for planting season!”

  Rhuna watched Duga continue on his busy errands, and she noticed that everyone appeared to know what to do without getting in each other’s way.

  “They are well organized,” Aradin observed.

  “I’ll miss them,” Rhuna said as another pang of sadness suddenly hit her. “Even though we could only communicate with Duga, I feel that I’ve become close to them all.”

  Aradin pulled Rhuna to his side and squeezed her affectionately.

  “Sharing these close confines so harmoniously with them during this cold season must have created a bond,” Aradin mused.

  “Maybe we should start getting organized for our journey, too,” Rhuna said, feeling motivated by the energetic bustle around her. She made a mental list of the things that had to be done before their departure while going through the motions of preparing food for the morning meal. As she opened the large metal tin containing the grains for the morning gruel, she admired the fortitude and endurance of the local people who lived in such harsh, challenging conditions.

  Rhuna carried the food bowls to the table and saw her family and most of the Atlan representatives entering the common room, looking at the activity around them.

  “We are not familiar with this people and manner of living at this altitude,” remarked Stillness of the Lake.

  “Atlans rarely visit the Land at the Top of the World,” Damell responded.

  “You must share with us all your impressions and experiences of this place,” Protector of Remembrance said. “For the Atlan oral record and knowledge archives.”

  “Maybe Atlans should start keeping a written record of everything, like the Masters here have done for many generations,” Rhuna suggested.

  “The Atlan Empire has no need for writing,” Protector of Remembrance retorted huffily. “Our tradition to impart history and knowledge orally from one generation to the next has always sufficed.”

  “But things are changing now,” Rhuna reasoned. “I have learned to read and write from one of the Masters during our stay here.”

  “Such knowledge can be beneficial in this part of the world,” the white-haired Atlan agreed.

  Rhuna ate in silence, her thoughts mulling over the value of writing in a society as she chewed the flavourless gruel. She looked across the table at Goram and saw his restlessness grow as the monotonous daily routine repeated once again. She watched him leave the table as soon as he finished the meal, leaving Lozira behind to play with Shandi a while.

  Rhuna quickly removed her empty food bowls from the table and then followed Goram in the hope of discovering his secretive plans. She had to move from one side of the narrow corridors to the other, avoiding the active local residents as they carried their blankets and other belongings to the newly opened areas outside. She had to stop completely at a corner and wait as two men carried a wide cot through a narrow passage.

  As she peered around the corner, she glimpsed Goram meet Yarqi in the dim light of dark corridor leading to the sleeping areas. It appeared to her that they spoke secretively and almost intimately as Yarqi reached inside her outer garment and pulled out one of her silver chains. Rhuna was stunned as she watched Yarqi hand over a large silver object attached to one of the chains she had carried around her neck. Goram took it with both hands and delicately laid it inside a cloth pouch while Yarqi leaned closer to him and spoke in his ear.

  Rhuna was suddenly assaulted by memories of Goram’s reputation as a philanderer until he met Lozira, and her blood ran cold at the thought she was observing a secretive tryst.

  “Where are you going?” asked Aradin as he came up behind Rhuna.

  Rhuna jumped as she spun around, then quickly returned her gaze to the dim corridor where Goram had vanished into the dark.

  “I just saw Goram and Yarqi talking…”

  “Like they have a secret?” Aradin finished her thought.

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “They do,” Aradin stated. “The three of them share something the rest of us know nothing about.”

  “The three of them? Goram, Yarqi and Mohandu? I didn’t know that,” Rhuna said with slight alarm.

  “Maybe they’ll tell us about it one day,” Aradin said reassuringly.

  Rhuna shook her head to dismiss her suspicious thoughts before returning to the common rooms with Aradin.

  “Tozar didn’t eat the morning meal with us,” Rhuna commented. “I think he’s avoiding Goram and Lozira.”

  “Give them time,” Aradin said.

  Rhuna helped Kiana clear away the food bowls and drinking vessels after the morning meal, and then turned her attention to the four Atlan representatives who were still seated at the table discussing the foreign food and bitter tea.

  “Shall we visit the Depository of Archival Texts now?” Damell suggested.

  “We are very curious!” said Greeter of Friends, springing to his feet.

  “One of the scribes wishes to accompany us,” Damell added as they walked towards the tunnel entrance.

  “Is that so?” asked Protector of Remembrance with surprise.

  “Yes. He is most unusual,” Damell replied. “His knowledge of languages in the region of the Black City would be most beneficial.”

  “Indeed,” said the white-haired leader of the Atlan group.

  They followed Damell through the passages in silence until they reached the imposing wooden door of the Depository.

  “Most impressive,” whispered Stillness of the Lake.

  “I’m still impressed each time I go through the Depository and see all the texts,” Rhuna said. “There’s nothing like it in Atlán!”

  The Atlan representatives were greeted by the Chief Custodian who then led them further into the expansive room with a low ceiling and many supporting columns. Tables and shelves of tomes, scrolls and collections of texts radiated forth in every direction, inspiring awe in everyone who entered the Depository.

  “We have taken upon ourselves the solemn responsibility of recording events and people for the benefit of future generations,” the Chief Custodian said as he stopped to let the visitors admire their surroundings.

  “A solemn responsibility, indeed,” Protector of Remembrance agreed.

  “Our oral historic records encompass only the Atlan Empire and its people,” remarked Preserver of Faith.

  “This was the custom of our early ancestors also,” the Chief Custodian replied. “Yet when our people dispersed and resided in more isolated parts of the world, it became necessary to record events in a different way.”

  “So, you invented writing?” asked Greeter of Friends, his eyes wide with amazement as he continued to look around him at the endless rows of texts.

  “No. We were shown the writing by Masters from the lower plains who came to live with our people many generations past,” the Chief Custodian answered. He turned a
round and walked towards the open area near the windows where the scribes did their work.

  “May I introduce you to Goll, who wishes to accompany you to the Black City,” the Chief Custodian said.

  Goll stood up and approached the Atlans, stretching out a ghostly hand in the Atlan greeting. Rhuna watched on as they greeted the strange-looking scribe with pale skin and thin, whitish hair.

  “It is my keen desire to accompany you to the Black City and regions beyond, where my knowledge of several languages should be of great benefit to you,” Goll said politely.

  “Have you journeyed to these regions frequently?” asked Greeter of Friends.

  “No. I have never left this Depository,” Goll answered.

  Rhuna was stunned.

  “You have never left this building?” asked Protector of Remembrance incredulously.

  “In fact, he was born in a nearby mountain-dwelling community, but he came to us as a small child and he has no memory of any place outside these walls,” the Chief Custodian quickly explained.

  “How…extraordinary,” Protector of Remembrance said, searching for the appropriate word.

  “My knowledge is derived from the texts in this Depository,” Goll explained. “I have been reading the texts since my earliest childhood.”

  Preserver of Faith looked at the Chief Custodian and then at the other scribes seated on the floor nearby. “Is this the cause of your paleness? Never having stepped outside this building?”

  “No, he was born that way,” the Chief Custodian answered.

  “It’s a rare condition I’ve only heard of once, when I studied in Atlán to become a Healer,” Rhuna explained. “He simply lacks the pigment that colours our skin, eyes and hair.”

  “Ah-ha,” Protector of Remembrance said as his fingers stroked his beard. “Would your condition not make a journey outside in the sunlight somewhat precarious?”

  “Not precarious, only slightly uncomfortable,” Goll answered. “My fellow-scribes have already made protective head and eye coverings for my journey.”

  “Good, good,” Protector of Remembrance said with a smile. “You are most welcome!”

  Goll bowed his head in gratitude, and then offered to show the Atlan representatives some of the many incidents of changed text. They watched as Goll’s nimble fingers found certain pages in massive tomes or bound volumes of lists and names.