4. Snakes

The sun disk kept on its lethargic course from one edge of the world to another. As it closed on the western horizon, its domain dyed from yellow to orange over the plains, to a light red when it kissed the end of the earth. From the Hour of the Glider to the Hour of the Lemp, the face of the village changed in accordance with the celestial dance. The plain upheld its green hues as long as it could, until at last everything was embraced by the colour of embers.

It would only be so for half an hour before the night took over.

Tuläp wanted to show all of this to Mashë while there was still time. How much of this was new to her and how much she had seen during migrations, one could only guess. The smallest thing warranted wonder and excitement from the young Chosen, as well as all the questions that would follow. Even though Tuläp was the one showing her around, she talked less than Mashë in the end, and it was as though the latter was the one leading them onward.

Partaking in her adventure of discovery was amusing, especially for her bodyguard who was starting to care less about killing time and more about getting reactions out of her. Once immersed in the same game, that was enough to shake off the reality waiting for them at the end of the day and to make it a pleasant afternoon. Tuläp had to remind herself that her Protector duty had already begun, to keep up an air of dignity when others were looking at this strange pair.

Well, it didn't matter what they thought. The celebration would happen regardless, the heavens were only waiting for their will to be carried out.

Some of these stares were unmistakable though, especially coming from the older villager. It was fine really, nothing Tuläp hadn't already known, nothing Mashë would notice. If there was a value to that girl's candidness, it was the purity of faith that alleviated the concerns in the back of the Protector's head.

While they were going around the huts and the grass, they didn't share a word about the journey to come. There was just so much to see here. Of course, it wasn't always avoidable, as Tuläp had to settle a couple matters on the way: whether their food and water had really been delivered to Tano, the weather forecast for the days to come, a review of their belongings. During those moments Mashë wasn't paying as much attention. If she did, it was only to make a curious face without grasping the topic at hand.

Mashë's baggage had been brought to the hangar as the elders had assured. There wasn't much to it, of course. Tuläp was travelling lightly as well. There was only so much they absolutely needed beside provisions, but she was glad to see her Chosen wasn't lacking any of it. By the time the sun was setting, Tuläp could stop worrying over preparations.

It had to be time for the celebration to begin. She called Mashë who was gawking at the striders on the tip of her toes. On their way out, they met a crowd: Baud and many other brown silhouettes were waiting for them.

"It's almost time." The last rays of the sun drapped his face in shadows under the hood of his cloak. Even so, his expression was the same as this morning. "Good thing we knew you'd be here."

"Scared you would miss me? I'll be on display for everyone in just a bit." Tuläp laughed while keeping a firm hand on Mashë's shoulder. One moment of inattention and she could slip away.

"It'll be a sight to behold. But if we waited 'till then, we'd be too late for your last rite as Protector."

"There's a last rite?" She raised an eyebrow. "Something that's not an excuse to drink?"

"Well, that was the first part of it! And we might have done it a smidge early!" Heelo croaked with the widest grin. "Not like we could round up everyone either. The august families are coming out of their august home about this time, ye'see, and some help is still needed around the banquet. And Dus is wherever Dus is."

"You can be sure they'll find a moment to congratulate you personally." Baud added. "But we don't need all of us to express our pride. One of our own is departing in the name of the whole tribe, too rare of an occasion if you ask me."

"Your brother would be proud as well." Next to Baud, Maleen's smile alone spoke for everyone present.

"Would he?" But Tuläp's own sunniness waned with the daylight.

"Doubly certain, as true as milk is white. Oh, he would deny it and put on some grand air, but deep down he wouldn't be able to help it."

"..."

Would he?

The Protector assembled in front of her lost their cheerfulness in turn. But it wasn't because of the face Tuläp was making – they had noticed the little girl by her side and understood who she was. Baud was unusually somber now, he gauged Mashë for a moment in silence. It was the same for his peers, and Tuläp did not know what to say or do. Eventually, Baud hunched over and gave a deep bow to the Chosen, who was still shorter in spite of it. He was imitated by the rest of their companions.

"We honour you, lady Dol Mashë. You are also departing for all of us, and because of us. We'll pray for safe travel. May the sky be empty above your head."

It was comical to see so many adults bending over in front of such a young child. But no one felt like laughing. As for Mashë, she observed their reverence with round, blinking eyes but said nothing. That was certainly something else compared to the elders' words of warning. When the Protectors straighted up, Baud's lips curled wryly and he looked at Tuläp.

"You were about her age the last time... so you probably don't remember how it goes, but we have a gift for you."

Bohm came forward out of the group with something in his hands. It was a short sword sheathed in a leather scabbard in which the sigils of the Protector clans had been sewn. This included even the clans that had disappeared before she had been born; she knew their names from the songs shared around a goblet at the end of the night. The sigil of clan Fal stood out above the rest, inside an azure circle near the mouth of the scabbard.

"Made only for you. Name's engraved in the guard." Bohm presented it to her. "Out there, far from the village, it's your weapon 'n your name both. Fal Monir also received one when he left."

"..."

Tuläp let her staff rest on the hollow of her arm, and she held the weapon as though it were made of fragile glass. It was similar to the short swords many Protectors had with them, so the weight was familiar and her grip around the handle felt natural. She pulled only a few centimetres out of the sheath, to admire the new and unblemished steel reflecting the last embers from the horizon. That kind of material wasn't in abundance in the village, all the weapons she had laid hands on until this day had been handed down to her.

"I guess you've already packed a sword for the journey, but you can't have too many blades." Baud said. "If you ever find yourself isolated or if the journey robs you, keep it with you no matter what. On top of fighting, it can be used for hunting, cutting, skinning or to mark your tomb. Make sure you never lose it."

Tuläp nodded slowly. Her head seemed heavy as she did so.

"And it has a secret." He added. "There's a trigger on the butt. Try to press it."

"This one?"

It wasn't easy to see but she could feel it with her finger. A subtle slit was outlining a piece of the small pommel. When she pressed on it, that piece sunk in with a tack. A vertical bump jolted out of the hilt, just wide enough to grab and pull on it. Doing so revealed a tiny drawer with two compartments: each of them held a grey pellet the size of a marble.

"Medicine?"

"Almost. They will take away pain for a time but they won't heal anything. So be careful when to use them, and be careful after you use them too. You never realise the things you'll do once you can't feel pain."

"But it will help me pull through and focus on my mission."

"That it will. But if it's not enough, there's another secret."

With his hands he told her to pull again; the drawer could stretch a little further. It seemed purposefully difficult, but with a bit more strength applied Tuläp pulled out a third compartment. Another pellet was inside. Unlike the other two, this one was red as the sun behind her. Baud leaned closer to her, so that Mashë wouldn't hear his next words.

"There can be worse than pain when we die. If you swallow this, it'll be over quickly and beasts won't try to eat your body."

Tuläp closed the drawer.

"A secret's a secret." She smirked to hide the shiver in her back.

"True, it doesn't need to matter at all." Baud stepped back and laughed as though they had been sharing a joke. "Our prayers are with you. If the heavens hear them, that will be enough."

Then, he raised his right arm and touched his left shoulder with his index and his middle fingers. The men and women behind him made the same salute. Tuläp imitated them slowly, reluctantly. It was saying goodbye, a send-off of their own before the tribe officially bid her travel.

"We have one more gift for you but that's yet another secret."

"...?"

"You'll see when it's time! It's getting late."

There wasn't much red in the sky anymore. The bearers of brown cloaks dispersed and moved along, as did Tuläp and Mashë. That was true for every adult and child in the winding alleys between the huts, those who worked in the temple or in the workshop, and those who were out in the plains. Their destination was the same.

On the outskirts of the village, in a small plain nested between hills, a unique construct caught the eye. It had been built within the day, by hands who had started working before dawn. From a distance it looked like two low walls ran parallel to each other, standing a dozen of metres apart. Made with the same method and material as the huts of the village, they blended in with the hills to such an extent that it seemed the landscape itself was inviting them to sit. For indeed, those two lines were not meant to separate but to welcome: plates were laid on them, with food and water from one end to the other.

This was where the tribe would feast and celebrate the beginning of a new pilgrimage.

If one only looked at the long tables, it would be an underwhelming spectacle. What struck Tuläp upon looking was to see every member of their tribe gathered on each side. The middle section between the tables was entirely empty but the other sides were crowded with more people than she had ever seen in one place. Even when moving from one home to another, the villagers would split in groups to travel, lest they might attract unwanted attention. This much concentration could only be witnessed every so often in a lifetime.

Tradition asked that everyone sit side by side along the tables. In practice however, making these long enough for every villager wouldn't be convenient. Behind each table, places to sit and gather had also been made. The villagers were divided in families and neighbors, they had prepared their own spots in the banquet. The result was that every part of this layout was unique and created a different atmosphere.

They chattered in half-whispers. In contrast, here and there songs were starting. Initiated by a single person, it was joined by those sitting with them, and spread to the nearby circles. Only a few groups wanted to recite hymns, the rest was the same kind of song chanted in chorus around a fire and some drinks. Although, sometimes even those became carefully quiet, before swelling up again.

Some ate sitting on makeshit chairs and their plates on their knees, others sat cross-legged on the wild Dor grass. Now that the night had fallen, none of them needed to wear anything on their heads. In the end, few and far between were those standing in front of the banquet tables to have their dinner. Of course the less people were there, the more intimidating it became, all the more now that their table neighbors were of a more spiritual nature.

The gods were also invited, unseen but felt.

Both guests and hosts, this banquet was for them.

Each person was to set aside one third of their meal as an offering. If the gods received it, they would know their name and give their blessings in the future. If humans kept their third, it meant refusing a gift to the heavens; the heavens would bear them no gifts in return. Each villager took their own third and set it on the table. At least one person per group would stand and eat with the gods, out of piety and to represent their kin.

In order to ensure harmony and sanctity, sentinels were keeping watch in the night. Not guardians made of flesh and blood but sculptures of moss and mud, strange creatures with elongated heads and long fangs. These sentinels were looking outward, their eyes scoured the plains and the hills, warnings against those who would intrude upon this ritual. A snake was drawn on their head, looking up at the sky.

This scene was bathed in the soft light of the golden moon throning majestically above their heads. No lanterns were lit, they were only allowed to eat and discuss in the light offered by the heavens. This night had been chosen in advance for its clear weather, one could see as well as during midday. The festivities proceeded in these auspicious conditions.

Tuläp was not a part of it, though.

She and Mashë weren't sitting with the rest of the village. In the space between the beginning of the two tables, an altar had been made for the two of them. Here, they were both at the centre and away from the banquet. Neither man nor god would take place beside them, yet all could watch and pray for them; for who they were and what they would set out to do.

"You're not hungry, Tuläp?"

Mashë asked innocently while putting a piece of fruit bread in her mouth. Her plate was half empty and it seemed even emptier compared to Tuläp's.

Stolen story; please report.

"I'm leaving more of it for the gods." She shook her head with small smile. "Don't forget to leave some too, okay?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, even you. The gods are guides and saviours to us, but to you they're family."

"Family..." The little girl looked up from her plate and at the scene before her. "Hm, but what do I give?"

Tuläp watched her protégé struggling to decide what she was willing to part with. In truth, she really couldn't muster any appetite. Nimbling on her food had only made it clearer that she didn't even want to chew on anything. The great ancestors could gorge themselves on this humble feast, it wouldn't go to waste at least. Of course, she wouldn't see the cheese and the bread vanish from her plate.

It was just the anxiety of the journey to come.

There was nothing to do other than endure.

But rather than tomorrow, she was waiting for the declaration that would be made this very night.

On the opposite side of the banquet, facing her and Mashë was another, much larger altar. The Chosen were presiding over the event, looking over both the humans and the gods gathered here tonight. It was strange for these two groups to mingle in any other circumstances; the semi-divine families sitting there were the linchpin joining two worlds in one place.

Tuläp couldn't see what faces they were making from that distance, but it looked like the younger Chosen were enjoying the moment like their earthly brethren. The elders were seated on cushions on the highest row, unmoving. Looking at them, Tuläp felt like she was back inside the temple.

The moon moved leisurely with the stars. The inevitable was taking too long, Tuläp could only distract herself with Mashë's company. The hero of the day was eyeing the leftovers in her plate. Her interest was all the greater because she wasn't allowed to touch it. Tuläp considered giving her a share from her own plate, since there was so much to spare. Sadly, she had already offered it. Even if it was an excuse, she would be setting the wrong example if she took it back.

"Tuläp, let's play glen-catcher!" The little girl got bored of the dinner she wouldn't have.

"Glen-catcher again, hm... let's see..." Dully, she started humming. "What's there, my dear, what's there in the glen?"

"It's a big spider! Do you know, my dear, do you know where it went?"

Mashë waited expectantly, ready to sing the next part. Tuläp couldn't think of what would eat a big spider. There were many options, her head was coming up with nothing. She should have been bored too. So what was this tension sapping her focus? There was a stone in her stomach; for a moment she thought her hair were standing up.

Ding!

A metallic sound rang around the banquet. Such a soft tinkling and yet silence spread in its wake. The voices chatting without reserve across the plain were extinguished. Tuläp didn't need an excuse to skip on playing.

It was time.

"O, Children of the Land! O, Tears of Penitence! O, Wanderers!"

Elder Lödel's voice alone rose. The old Chosen stood up from his cushion, all other sounds made way for his declamation: his voice carried far despite his age.

"O, people under the sky! As one you have consumed the night! The masters of creation have witnessed your faith, your desires and your strength! They have witnessed a people that lives and hasn't strayed from their path! But, let that liveliness step back – it is their turn to speak."

Lights appeared on the altar of the Chosen.

The three elders were brandishing one lantern each, bulbs that cast a quiet blue light. It reminded Tuläp of the secret garden. They might actually be made from those plants; they were suffused with the same unearthly beauty. With these lights in hands, the elders began their descent. Naël and Täpishe brushed off the hands of their families and descended all on their own. Lödel practically jumped off his seat which dominated the entire banquet.

Their silhouettes were drapped in the veil of night save for that faint glow. But Tuläp could see enough to tell they did not climb down the altar step by step. They glided softly like paper birds without ever touching ground. During that surreal movement, she realised that the lanterns had no rope to hold them by: they were floating like stray beads of moonlight and preceded their masters.

"Hear, people under the sky, hear a tale too rarely recounted, yet a tale that permeates our lives."

The three lights ended up in the foot of the altar, between the long tables, and from there they advanced. They were facing the tribe huddled on either side of them, but also the village surrounding the temple. Tuläp and Mashë were facing their lights and the world outside.

"In times forgotten, we were blissful. We feared not for our children, we feared not to starve, we needed not forsake our homes to wander. Our lives were synonymous with prosperity, and prosperity was synonymous with the divinities. That garden of myrth was made through their power, offered to us through their generosity. So blissful were we that we took that prosperity for granted. We lost faith and were punished for it."

Clouds had drifted in front of the moon and eclipsed its golden radiance. The land was plunged in obscurity, save for the three blue eyes swaying. Then, more lights appeared like wisps out of the night. All along the tables, similar lanterns rose on their own next to the villagers whose eyes were transfixed on the elders. The banquet, the plain and the hills could be seen again.

"What the gods had given, they took back. From that day onward, their voices stopped reaching you. The gods reside in the heavens, humans are forced to live in a shadow of what they once knew. Now we wander. Now we hide. Now we fear."

The villagers had left their plates to gather along the two walls that stood between them and a realm which fascinated them.

"But hear, O Children of the Land, hear some fortunate news. The gods are punishing us not as criminals but as their misled brethren. They have not abandoned us. Words from the heavens still reach those who share their blood. We Chosen have one ear with you, one ear with them. The gods want nothing more than to help us. To prove ourselves worthy, they have prepared a trial."

A wind rose to sweep across the hills. It could not snuff out the light of the lanterns but it brought laments that no living beings could produce.

Lödel had to raise his voice higher.

"A pilgrimage must be made! A person with half-mortal blood and half-divine essence must journey to the sacred land! They shall be a messenger and a proof that this era of hardship is over! They shall receive the blessings of the gods and shall return them to us! So it was decided many eons ago, and so we abide to their judgement! This year, the gods have spoken again – a new pilgrimage is about to begin!"

The people were listening intently. Though they respected the silence imposed by the ceremony, the thrill was palpable. It was mostly the younger folks, who stared at the scene with stupefaction. For many of them this was the first pilgrimage they ever saw. Others had been too young during the previous ceremony, ten years ago. The adults were more calm, observing the elders' procession seriously.

That was because they knew. Tuläp knew as well. No one had to say it out loud, the thought was in the back of their heads: none of the previous pilgrimages had succeeded. None of them had returned. Not their ancestors. Not those who had journeyed in the times of the elders. Not those who had departed in the times of Tano and Dus.

Not her brother.

"Now watch – before you stands the one the gods have chosen. Tonight, Dol Mashë receives the spirit of our village." The three lanterns stopped, only a small distance away from the altar. The demigods behind them returned to the earth. "Young one, accept the earnest prayer of our souls, carry us to the sacred land."

"I accept."

The little girl answered with a gravity Tuläp didn't recognize. She must have been taught the proper conduct in preparation for this day. Then, the blue eyes turned toward the Protector next to her.

"You will not journey alone. For the sake of their sacred duty, a Chosen must be accompanied by shields and swords. Fal Tuläp will be that Protector. An oath was sworn eons in the past; she has sworn an oath to begin her training; today, she has sworn herself for the final time. Thrice-sworn, chosen by the gods, her fate is tied to yours under the Sun and under the Moon."

The stone in Tuläp's stomach got heavier.

It was as expected, her mission was officialised in front of the whole tribe. But something about his speech rubbed her the wrong way. The Hour of the Snake was near, Mashë had already been established as the core of their pilgrimage. Divine consent was primordial, but what were they waiting for to form the rest of the expedition?

"That is all." Lödel said firmly. "The heavens have cast their will on two, thus they shall travel by two."

"...!"

Tuläp's heart stopped.

Nevermind stones – her body as a whole was a swallowed by a violent shudder, a wildfire spread through her mind. She dug her nails into her arm to supress it. It was impossible to hold all of it back. The hauntings and the doubts from the past months were more tangible than ever, her worst fears were confirmed. Could they see her expression in the light of their secrets?

Her face grew hot.

She found the faces of the elders next to their lanterns. She glared at them with the deepest fury she could have imagined.

A murmur spread throughout the audience. Even the religious silence binding the villagers couldn't contain their incomprehension. Of course it couldn't – this was preposterous! Even the last expedition had been at least half a dozen people. What were they thinking? Those stony faces looked back at her indifferently, only stoking the flames.

But Tuläp didn't erupt.

She didn't say a single word, no matter how much she was itching to lash out. Those three blue eyes were locked onto her; no, it was every eye casting their cold light at this banquet. The commotion among the villagers died down without the need for Lödel to intervene. They were staring too, hundreds of eyes had already decided that it was so. Even the quiet sentinels waiting on the border between the shadows and the lanterns...

The weight of men and gods towered over her and quashed her on the altar.

"Right of service!"

A new voice rose above the silence.

It came from somewhere amidst the crowd of onlookers. Without the amplitude of Lödel's voice, it sounded distant and smaller. But more than enough to make a commotion: the elders, Mashë and Tuläp turned around. A figure stepped over the wall and jumped into the empty lane. The actual lantern he brandished revealed his identity, but Tuläp knew before she even saw the scar across his face.

"Old Dus..."

"Tihen Dus, explain yourself." Lödel demanded dryly.

"I ask for right of service." In comparison, the veteran sounded softer than linen. "When a Chosen leaves the village, we Protectors are allowed to volunteer for the journey, aren't we? I wish to be Dol Mashë's companion."

Tuläp's head cooled in a blink, from sheer surprise. Dus came closer, wearing the same calm smile as when he was struggling against Maleen. The other Protectors did not come up to follow his lead, nor did they bat an eye. Likewise, Dus did not look back at them. It occured to Tuläp that this was something they had already decided among themselves; they'd had all the time last night.

Naël grumbled:

"We may ask for volunteers, but the will of the gods is clear this time. You are out of your place."

"Going without their favour is a bad omen." Lödel added.

"That's exactly why." The shadows cast on Dus' face made his smile appear larger. "I'm already thrice-sworn. Or have you forgotten? The mission is the same, I am forever bound to it. If there is someone the gods will accept, that would be me."

"How insolent...!"

Naël fussed. However, Lödel and Täpishe kept their silence. Dus ignored them, walked up to the altar and, there, he bowed with his hands joint around the lantern.

"How about it, lady Dol Mashë? Will you let me come along?" He threw an amused glance at Tuläp. "Oh, not to worry, I won't delay your departure. I've made all the preparations."

The little girl looked at him with curious eyes. The meaning behind his action and the weight of her decision were foreign concepts to her. She considered his question at face value. And so, tapping her hands against the table and tilting her head, she smiled.

"Okay!" And she giggled.

A honest answer without decorum – the levity of it cut through the tension of her surroundings. Looking only at her, the situation seemed simple indeed. Dus straightened up and, when he took his place on the altar next to the two of them, the elders did not try to stop him. This momentous ritual, celebrated only a handful in one's lifetime, had taken an unexpected turn of event, with an even stranger conclusion.

There was grumbling aplenty among the organisers but nothing that could be done: mishaps, discontent and interventions would not slow down the moon.

Lanterns were snuffed out as promptly as they had been lighted. The crowds scattered to look after their cutlery and the leftovers of their dinner, the banquet was no longer the centre of interest.

Which meant it was time.

"Tuläp..." After they got down from their place of honour, Mashë tugged on her bodyguard's sleeve for attention. "We're leaving?"

"We're almost there. Let's go to the hangar."

"Tuläp...!" She tugged some more.

"What's the matter?"

"We can't leave, I forgot something!"

"What do you mean? I didn't find anything missing–"

"I don't have Yane. I left her in my room... No one's going to look after her if I'm gone!"

". . . . .Don't worry, I'll bring your Yane."

Tuläp looked at Dus, who nodded to tell her she could entrust Mashë to him. Then she left the celebration grounds and made her way between the huts. This was a needless delay, she was sure to have mouths talking behind her back for it. Nonetheless, she went to the temple.

A few villagers hadn't participated in the banquet in order to keep watch on it. Without that Tuläp would have been helpless. She found Ulle, who understood and disappeared into the temple. When she came back, the domestic handed something to her. Tuläp accepted the doll, made of colourful fabric wrapped around a flexible reed frame.

"..."

She lost herself in thought for a bit, looking at it. But she shook her head; there wasn't much time left. With the doll under her arm, she turned back.

----------------------------------------

The hangar was bustling with people going back and forth between striders, moving the machines to make a path of exit. Tano said nothing to Tuläp, he only shrugged and left to supervise his disciples taking care of the moving. Tuläp was sitting inside the saddle of her steed, front seat. She didn't need to check up on anything, that would be an insult to Tano's time and patience. Mashë was in the back seat, looking at the ceiling while all of this activity was buzzing around her. Tuläp heard her yawning too; it was that late.

Her fellow Protectors were not far on the ground, waving and shouting words of encouragement, despite having had several last farewells with her already. This time though, these were also for Dus. The latter climbed up Homefinder's ladder.

"How much experience do you have riding this?"

"I know my maneuvres. I may not be outside all the time like the Watchers, but I'm not some amateur!"

"Good to hear." He glanced at the dozing Mashë with a chuckle. "In that case, you can take the lead. I'll be right behind you."

"Got it... ah, by the way, Dus..." Tuläp held his attention back as he was starting to climb down. They hadn't talked much since the end of the banquet, so she wasn't sure when to say this. "Thank you."

"Don't rejoice too fast." He chuckled. "You lost a lemp jerky this morning. Who knows what else you might risk?"

"Then make an effort and don't lose this time!"

"Heh!"

The way forward was cleared by now. There was actually a large opening on the side of the hangar, covered by a thick curtain of vines and twined Dor roots. It had been opened wide like a mouth for the night. People on the ground were giving the ready sign. Tuläp said a few words to the girl behind her but it was probably no use.

In a rumbling concert of noises, Homefinder's legs bent and lifted its massive body off the ground. With stomping steps cushioned by the grass, the beast of steel crawled out of its shed. Men, women and children were waiting outside. They walked next to it while waving their arms. Tuläp waved back; this was the last she would see of this village for a long time.

The clouds had parted, the moon lighted the way. The Hour of the Snake warded off evil. Three travelers were leaving for the sacred land.