I just stared at the elder, still reeling from the whiplash of my sudden change in status. I’d been marched into this village as a prisoner, and now, I was being treated as an honored guest.
Once the hunters had been chastised and pushed away from the awning, the elder returned to me, his gaze falling on all my supplies that were scattered across the alcove. His expression was unreadable as he took in the sight, but after a moment he made a subtle motion with his hand, and several people who’d been standing nearby stepped forward without hesitation. They gathered up all my things with care, as if the rough treatment I’d endured from the hunters was now an embarrassment meant to be rectified.
When the elder turned back to me, his sternness melted into a grandfatherly smile. “You must be tired from your travels. We will prepare a bath for you.”
I nodded, the buzzing in my head from the codex and the rough journey through the wilderness to the village had made me too exhausted to argue. Instead, I let myself be led to a small, secluded area within the village.
A few youngsters from the village eagerly darted around, fetching water from a nearby stream and heating it over a fire. Others brought herbs and dried flowers, carefully tossing them into two large wooden tubs set off to the side.
By the time they finished preparing the bath, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the twin moons of the planet hung in the sky, casting a soft glow over the village. The steam from the bath rose in gentle wisps, curling into the cool night air as I eased myself into one of the wooden tubs. The water’s heat seeped into my body, unknotting my muscles. I let out a long, weary sigh, and rested my head on the edge of the tub to enjoy the feeling of soaking in hot water.
As the tension slowly faded away, I opened my eyes and noticed the four hunters who had captured me standing nearby. Their faces were unreadable as they stared at me in silence. The stillness that surrounded them was somehow more unnerving than all the insults they’d thrown at me in their once unfamiliar language earlier in the day. At least then, I’d been able to understand their intentions, recognizing them as bullies eager to lord their strength over me.
But now, they simply stood there, like ancient statues guarding the entrance to the bath area. The elder’s rebuke had clearly cowed them, and while their stance suggested vigilance, it didn’t take much to guess they weren’t just guarding me – they were standing between me and their own people.
A low, deep voice cut through the silence of the night, making me jump. “Your arrival has alarmed them,” the voice said. “You were found emerging from the forbidden lands.”
I swiveled my head and caught sight of the elder approaching with slow, measured steps. Another wooden tub had been placed next to mine, its water already steeped in a fragrant blend of herbs and flowers. Without hesitation, the elder stripped off his simple garments and eased himself into the warm bath with a sigh of satisfaction. The steam rose and encircled him, cutting him from my sight for a brief second.
“They are of the Agawo, as am I,” the elder began, his voice calm. “From an early age, we are taught that the lands beyond our village are forbidden. It has been this way for as long as our stories have been told. But the does not excuse their behavior.”
With a subtle motion of his hand, the hunters silently slipped away from the baths. I turned my attention back to the elder, curiosity piqued. “Forbidden?”
“To the Agawo, yes,” he replied, leaning back in the tub. “But not to a traveler. Not to a man who has fallen from the sky.”
A small, wry smile crept to my lips as I realized how absurd the situation was. “Special dispensation for the sky-fallen. Got it,” I said.
The elder chuckled, the sound more of a deep rumble in his chest than an actual laugh. We quickly fell into a comfortable silence, both of us enjoying the warmth of the bath.
When we finished, the elder signaled someone just out of sight, then gestured for me to follow him. I stepped out of the tub, feeling the cool night air prickling at my damp skin, and quickly slipped into a pair of pants left by the villagers. They were much more comfortable than the makeshift loincloth I’d made, and I wasn’t about to complain about the upgrade.
The elder slipped into his own fresh clothes, and we made our way to a pavilion-like structure draped in vibrant fabrics and covered with cushions. We were greeted by baskets that overflowed with food, and I simply allowed my eyes to wander over everything. Each basket was spilling over with colorful fruits and vegetables, some of which I’d recognized from my earlier travels. The scent of freshly cooked meat made my mouth water and my stomach growl.
The elder lowered himself onto a woven mat, gesturing for me to do the same. As I settled onto a cushion near him, he reached forward and handed me a wooden plate heaped with food.
“We share this meal in peace,” his deep voice broke the silence. “You are the honored guest of the Ilna clan of the Agawo people, traveler. And we welcome you.”
I nodded, not knowing what to say, and simply accepted the food.
‘Traveler.’ That’s what he kept calling me. The word had a nice ring to it, but I doubted that what I’d been doing could honestly be called traveling. I’d stumbled away from a crash, was chased and narrowly escaped from a vicious boar, wandered through an ancient and crumbling stronghold of a forgotten civilization, and then was marched to a random tribe out in the wilderness. I doubted you could really call all of it traveling.
“You call me traveler. You’ve got a name for people like me, which means it’s happened before. Is it common?”
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The elder shook his head slowly. “It’s not common, no. But it has happened before. In my long life, you are only the second traveler I have encountered.”
“Are all the…sky-fallen travelers?” I asked, the term still feeling foreign on my tongue.
“No. Not all. Travelers are travelers. Others are not.” The elder’s voice softed, as if he were trying to guide me through my confusion. When I gave him a puzzled frown, he sighed.
“The old men of the Tarro may offer more insight,” he suggested. “That is where I would suggest you go next. But for now, I can tell you this: travelers are those who are in search of something, even if they do not know what it is. They walk unknown paths, guided by fate or destiny.”
His words hung in the air. What was I seeking? Did I even know? Since arriving on this planet, my sole focus had been solely on survival – finding water, food, and a safe place to rest. I hadn’t been actively searching for anything else; rather merely stumbling from one crisis to another.
The elder studied my expression and then spoke in a low voice that seemed to carry the weight of centuries. “The Agawo used to be travelers. Like yourself. Our people descended from the skies, just as you did, and we made this valley our cradle. When we first arrived on this world, we found it already inhabited by a powerful civilization. They had mastered many things, but they were reckless. They sought forbidden magics, and in doing so, they broke their world apart.”
Magics? This world had magic? I desperately wanted to ask the elder about it. The way he’d effortlessly stopped the younger hunter earlier in the day was stuck in my mind. He’d manhandled the hunter as if he were nothing but a boy. But before I could ask my question, the elder continued his tale.
“Some among them realized the horror of their actions. They sought redemption – or perhaps merely survival – and fled their crumbling lands. They came to us, to the Agawo, seeking refuge and a chance to start anew. We took them in with open arms, offering them a place among us.
“In their gratitude – or perhaps shame – they warned us never to set foot in the lands they had tainted. Those lands have been forbidden to the Agawo ever since. But for travelers like yourself, those lands are not tainted by the same corruption. You are not bound by the same rules as we are. Travelers have a unique freedom to explore places that others cannot, to seek out truths hidden from the rest of us.”
I frowned slightly. “As a traveler, I’m not bound by the rules of your tribe? I don’t have to follow them?”
He gave me a grandfatherly smile, like one would give a precocious child, and picked up a fruit from one of the baskets. “It is always wise to respect the customs of the people you meet, wherever you may go. But most in the world you will meet, when they learn you are a traveler, will understand that you follow a different path. There are more than just the Agawo in this world, and I cannot speak for all the people you may encounter. But most will offer safe passage to a traveler.”
“You mentioned the old men of the Tarro. Who are they? You said they could help but…why would they?”
He nodded, his expression warm, as if he’d anticipated my question. “The Agawo are divided into different clans, each with its own customs and traditions. This valley belongs to the Ilna clan, my people. But there are other clans out there, scattered across the land, each guarding their own knowledge and way of life. The Tarro are the heart of the wisdom of the Agawo. They are drawn from all eight clans of the Agawo. When an elder becomes too old to lead, they venture to the Tarro to live out the remainder of their days there. They are our most revered sages, keepers of the deepest knowledge and most ancient secrets.”
As we finished our meal, the conversation flowed easily. The elder spoke of the village with a quiet pride, sharing stories of his people and their way of life. He described the other clans, their unique skills and rivalries, and the delicate balance they maintained. Despite the occasional conflicts, he assured me the Agawo always avoided outright war among the clans.
As the night deepened, we left the pavilion and wandered through the village in companionable silence. The sounds of the night enveloped us – the chirping of crickets, the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Above the sky was a vast expanse of stars, and for the first time since coming to this world, I allowed myself to enjoy a night without the specter of death hovering over me. I tilted my head back, marveling at the sight, letting the last of my fears and worries slip away.
‘
Eventually, we settled on the outskirts of the village, where the night air was cool and the sounds of the evening were hushed. I turned to the elder with a question that had been gnawing at me all day long.
“When I was traveling with your hunters earlier, I noticed something…strange. We were stopped for a moment, and one of them had this inky substance around his eyes. It looked like it was moving under his skin.”
“Ah. You saw the death echoes,” he said, his voice carrying a mixture of reverence and gravity.
“Death echoes?”
“Yes, the Agawo people have the ability to control them. When a creature is killed, its power doesn’t simply vanish. A shaman, like myself, can extract this power from the creature’s body and morph it into a useful tool that a hunter can wield.”
I leaned forward, intrigued. “Wait…you can wield something from a creature?”
“You said it was around the eyes? You likely refer to Tanti. He carries the death echo of a bird of prey. It enhances his eyesight, allowing him to spot targets from miles away.”
“Can I get this power?” I asked, the question slipping out of me before I could fully consider the implications. “If I help hunt a beast, could you make a tool for me?”
The elder’s expression softened into a sad smile. “Some death echoes focus on strength, some on speed, some turn your body into a weapon. For example, there is a hunter in the village who can call upon his death echo to make his fingers strong enough to peel flesh from bone.”
He held out an arm, and an inky black substance surged just beneath his skin, creating intricate geometric patterns along the length of his arm.
“One of my death echoes allows me to enhance my strength,” he explained. “It lets me move faster and strike with greater force.” As he spoke, the dark substance receded, melting seamlessly back into his body.
“The creature you encountered in the forbidden lands,” he continued, “we have seen its kind before. They are dangerous predators who prey on the Agawo. Had a shaman been there to extract the death echo, it could have provided a hunter with a powerful ability. It would have been a patch of natural armor that could be shifted around the body. But if that same shaman had tried to gift you the death echo, it would have torn you apart. The death echo is not something outsiders can bear. The moment it entered your body, it would have poisoned you, and you would have been dead within minutes.”
“How do you survive it then? How do you transfer the death echoes?”
The elder looked thoughtful for a moment before responding. “A shaman prays over the body of a creature after it’s been killed,” he began. “During this ritual, the shaman reaches out to the death echo, drawing it from the creature and allowing it to flow into their own body. The echo is fragile at first, so the shaman must nurture and strengthen it.
“We often carry multiple echoes within us, letting them grow in power before they’re ready to be passed along. When the time is right, we gift the death echo to a chosen hunter, merging it with their essence, so they may wield its power.”
As the conversation wore on, the elder’s voice grew softer, and I found myself asking more and more questions about the death echoes, curious about the mysterious power that I had no clear understanding of. But with each of my questions, the elder only smiled and said it was easier to understand when witnessed firsthand. He promised to introduce me to one of his assistants tomorrow, and we left it at that.
Eventually, as the conversation slowly petered out, the elder turned to me with a gentle but firm tone. “You will stay with us another day,” he said. “Learn about this place and its people. Then, we will provide you with clothing better suited for the valley, and if you wish to seek the wisdom of the old men of the Tarro, we will guide you there.”
His offer was generous. Honestly, it was more than I expected. “Along the way,” he continued, “you will be taken to the remnants of a sky-fallen who was not a traveler. Perhaps you can find some answers there, something that may help you understand your own journey.”
I nodded, trying to take it all in, but a part of me was wary. I had just found some semblance of civilization, and the thought of leaving it behind so soon made me uneasy. But there was another part of me, the part that had survived the crash, that felt a tugging at the back of my mind. The codex had been buzzing ever since I arrived in the village, like an itch I couldn’t scratch. It had helped guide me away from the crash, had helped me survive in the wilderness, had helped to decipher the Agawo language, and now seemed to be pushing me towards something.
If the elder was right, and I was a traveler like those who had come before, then they must have had something like the codex too. The idea that it was trying to steer me, perhaps towards the old men of the Tarro, nagged at me. I didn’t understand it fully, but I knew one thing: if I was going to follow this path, I’d need the help of the tribe to survive the journey. I had just barely managed to scrape survival in the wilderness leading to the tribe. There was no telling what dangerous existed between me and the old men.
The elder’s voice brought me back to the present. “Rest now,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Tomorrow, we will prepare you for what lies ahead.”