“This is it. This is my Yarva.”
Ki, Orvalys, and Jack looked out across the peculiar landscape that stretched away from them and disappeared into a blue haze towards the north. Crags of inky, dark stone broke through rolling hills and disparate clumps of forest as the land tumbled and rolled through the foothills before settling into a gentler slope further away.
There was something different about this place. It didn’t have the strict cultivation of the Tinarian homeland, neither was it quite as wild as the Athen forests—it was altogether something else. The glowing colors of the grass and bushes seemed brighter than the monocultures of Tinaria, but also more muted than those found south of the Athes. The one difference though, was the variation in hue. Jack only now noticed that Tinaria’s dimmer plants and the wildland’s brightly glowing ones had all resided in a relatively tight wedge of the color wheel—they all fit somewhere in between a dark blue and magenta, but in Yarva the landscape was painted also in glowing pinks and cyans and even some almost-oranges and near-reds. It gave the landscape a kaleidoscopic feel.
Not far from them, small towns and villages dotted the countryside. Bunches of houses and buildings in the distinctive Yarvan style occupied interesting places across their view. One sat near the confluence of two rivers, and another was nestled within the edges of a large wooded hill. One was situated atop a rocky outcrop, and though it was dimly lit with the surrounding plantlight, its distinctive towers with curling roofs were backlit against the much brighter sunlight of the morning sky.
“It’s… harmonious,” Orvalys said from somewhere near Jack’s elbow, and then he started reciting, “‘The color tapestry of Yarva is an outward manifestation of coexistence rather than subjugation.’” He turned to Ki. “Is that correct?”
Ki nodded. “Yes. Though the way the Ris-alan puts it, it’s never an obligation. Living harmoniously is just presented as the way of reality. It’s logical, not moral.”
“‘We are the world and the world is us,’” Orvalys quoted.
The two of them had been doing this for the last few days. In his own mind, Jack had called it ‘talking religion’ even though that wasn’t quite correct. Orv had informed him that the ancient Yarvan set of beliefs were never officially organized into a hierarchical structure, they were seen simply as a collection of ‘self-apparent truths’ by which the Yarvan cultures had lived for hundreds of years or more.
It had all started when Orv asked Ki about the documents and records that had been destroyed in Livrik. Jack hadn’t even noticed the charred bundle of pages and scrolls and even a type of ancient-looking purplish vellum that Ki had carefully retrieved from the abandoned streets. Apparently, she had collected as much as she could of what she referred to as ‘sacred texts.’ On their journey, Orvalys would ask questions, and Ki seemed open to the conversation. It was obvious she was explaining everything more like a historian than a believer, and also—to his annoyance—it seemed like she would talk to Orv about anything as long as Jack wasn’t included in the conversation.
He had, however, managed to put together enough clues to understand that this Ris’alan that they kept quoting was some sort of collection of texts, but it didn’t seem that clear cut. Sometimes it sounded like they were describing a book, and other times it sounded more like poems and songs, and once Orvalys had even referred to ‘the words one hears in dreams.’
Either way, Jack decided halfway through their mountain trek that he wasn’t going to be able to learn much about it, and as much as he tried to swallow his frustrations, it only made him all the more anxious to get down the mountain and make contact with the portal that was obviously there.
And it was obvious.
As soon as the valley came into view, the strange pulling sensation grew exponentially. It was almost disorienting at first. There was, all at once, an overwhelming internal compass that nearly screamed at Jack exactly where he needed to go. And he was now absolutely determined to get there.
Nevermind Yarva, nevermind Tinaria, nevermind the Ris’alan—nevermind the Athe. The only thing that mattered now was what lied ahead. It could have been slightly in his mind, but Jack swore he could feel the humming of energy that lay beyond the portal—the energy of a different world—and whatever world it was, it represented more than just getting away from Tinaria. It was one step closer to his home—one step closer to Nymia, and Nymia was the only place in any Universe he hadn’t felt alone.
And that was all that mattered.
I was stupid to think it wouldn’t be like that here. Yatakii.
As the trio headed further down the mountain, Orv and Ki continued their conversation. Jack pretended not to be listening.
“And do any Yarvans still believe what’s written?” The homunculus asked. “Or is that a potentially offensive question?”
Ki shrugged. “A lot of the older generation.” There was something in her voice that Jack couldn’t identify—something weirdly like cynicism but not quite.“We mostly recognize them as just stories, but even the Ris’alan itself says that it doesn’t exist to be believed in—it doesn’t exist to convince. It can’t give anyone or anything power over anything else. It’s not a book that anyone owns. Some of us might disagree with that sort of self-assesment, but it presents itself as only a compendium of the best knowledge of the past and of the future.”
“Athen knowledge, correct?” Orvalys asked. “Written by those that drink the Athe?”
Jack fell back a step. He and Orv had decided early on not to tell Ki about Lesh and the training. They didn’t know exactly how it would be received, and what exactly were the cultural connotations and ramifications they would face because of it. In the beginning, it made sense to travel with Ki toward Yarva, but it didn’t make sense to reveal what they had been doing those days in the forest until they had more information.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Which turned out to be a good idea in Jack’s opinion, because Ki still wouldn’t acknowledge he even existed. It seemed like even being able to “peer into the utmost future,” the mystery of Ki acting like a child was proving the hardest to crack.
“A myth my ancestors believed in,” Ki said. “But if Yarvans had really been able to tell the future, I find it hard to believe they would have let Tinaria come in and take everything from them.”
It was a sore point, that was obvious. Both Orv and Jack had a clear understanding of where Ki sat on the issue of rebellion. Jack recalled the hushed conversation they had had weeks before when she asked him to help. He didn’t like thinking about the way her eyes had fallen when he rejected her offer.
She deserves it though. Jack tried to feel like that was true. The reality was that Ki was acting strange, and he could tell even without knowing her very well. He would have thought that if there were any time to give him the cold shoulder, it would have been after he turned down her offer to join the rebellion. That would have been the appropriate time to hate him right? Why was it only after their meeting in Livrik that she decided it was time to despise him?
He also hadn’t sold her out. Maybe that’s what had bought a little of her trust—just enough to tie them together on a trip through the mountains, but now that they were approaching civilization again, Jack was certain they would be parting ways soon.
Which would be a relief.
Right?
The fact that Jack had to ask himself betrayed something else was going on.
Curiosity, he told himself. I’m just curious. Or maybe I feel more confident navigating this world with someone who lives here. That’s it. I’m sure that’s all it is. I definitely don’t want to spend any more time near Ki than is necessary. Who knew Yarvan rebels could be so temperamental?
Also, during their trek, Orvalys had been able to learn other things. Apparently, Ki had spent those few days in Livrik gathering and reading the remains of this Ris’alan. That didn’t make a lot of sense to Jack, mostly because he wouldn’t have expected any freedom fighter to stick around in a frigid mountain town for long when there was a war brewing, but also because she seemed hesitant to reveal much of what she had read. Every time Orv would try to dig deep into the records, she would redirect it toward what seemed like a purely academic, surface-level conversation. Before long the homunculus had given up on digging deep and started trying to learn everything he could on that more secular level. The difference was subtle, but even Jack had picked up on it.
It was clear Ki saw the Ris’alan as a valuable artifact of great historical significance. It was extremely important in a cultural context, but the importance ended there. Or at least that’s definitely what she wanted the other two to think. It was clear that something else was going on, and she wasn’t going to go out of her way to make that obvious to either of them.
“Azerta is to the northwest from here,” Ki said, pointing. “It’s where I was born—a very small village, so I’m going to head there to hopefully find someone I can trust. I’m a deserter, so I need to lie low until I get some news of what’s going on.”
“We are also deserters,” Orvalys said. “What is the likelihood someone will turn us in?”
Ki considered his question. “I’m really not sure. It might be safer for you two, but it also might be more dangerous. If the rebellion is accelerating, a lot of Yarvans wouldn’t feel like they need to report anything strange. If Tinaria has cracked down, I wouldn’t be walking around in the daylight. It mostly depends on Genys’ presence. If she’s doing well, they’ll find you. If she’s struggling to hold power in Yarva, you’d probably be fine. Kind of a gamble though.”
Orv nodded. “Well, we aren’t planning on walking through the streets of Ullulia anytime soon. We’ll certainly do whatever we can to lie low.”
“Smart choice,” Ki said. She turned away from them, took a deep breath, and readjusted her pack. She moved as if to take a step forward before stopping and turning back to face them.
“Thank you… for letting me talk,” she said to Orvalys.
“Of course,” the homunculus said. “I was glad for the conversation.”
Ki nodded, eyes downward. A cloud of emotions crossed her face, there was confusion, remorse—maybe a bit of anger. She looked suddenly up at Jack and before he could avert his gaze they locked eyes. He hadn’t expected to suddenly want to say something—to say a lot of somethings.
Why did you ignore me?
What’s going on with you?
You’re incredibly frustrating.
Why aren’t you gone yet?
Leave me alone!
Wait…
Don’t leave me alone.
He almost opened his mouth before she turned and quickly strode down the hill. The only sound was her boots crunching through the fallen leaves on the forest floor. The multicolored plantlights dappled her in shadows of purples and oranges before she was lost to view. Not long after that, it became very quiet. Jack and Orv could clearly hear the whistling of wind through the spires of the Athes.
“What were you going to say?” Orvalys finally asked.
“I was going to say… I’m sorry,” Jake said quietly.
Orvalys took a moment and only nodded to himself. “Why didn’t you?”
Jake took a slow breath. The air here was softer than on the other side of the mountain. It was warmer—slightly more humid as well. “I didn’t see myself saying it.”
That somehow seemed to satisfy Orvalys enough to end the conversation. The small man packed up his small knapsack and adjusted his tiny Livrikian clothes. They had been the smallest size any of them could find in the ruined village—probably made for a child, but they fit. His Tinarian uniform had been completely stained with whatever oil-like liquid that had come out of his leg. Jack also wore full Yarvan dress—the deep yellow leather britches and loose-fitting hooded poncho that looked like it was woven from a hundred thick, soft, multicolored fibers.
They had decided their uniforms could attract unwanted attention. The only thing he kept were his Tinarian-issue boots. Ki had begrudgingly communicated through Orv that they alone were unlikely to give him away.
Hopefully, anyone who spotted them from afar would see a Yarvan pilgrim and his child, or taking Jack’s height into consideration, maybe a young adolescent and his sibling. It wasn’t the best disguise, but maybe it would work long enough to get them through the portal, plus, there was always Orv’s “Theory of Strangeness.”
Jack looked out at where the pull was coming from. It was the area that immediately demanded his attention the moment they crested the last Athen ridge. There was a small copse of trees near the base of the town situated on the rocky outcrop. Jack pointed to it. “What was the name of that town again?”
“It’s a small village,” Orvalys answered. “They call it Ortni.”