[https://i.imgur.com/tHaqWPz.jpg]
* - /gɛˈhiliə/
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And so it was that I passed a small ridge that stretched across the plain west of Lake Soddo, the name of which I didn’t know. As I was walking down a hilltop, avoiding to the best of my abilities the multiple big blueish spiders running all over the ground, I noticed several hunters and women striding across a small glen between the hills. Judging by their feathers, they weren’t from the band of Liide, so I decided to approach them as I needed to get some knowledge about the lands behind the ridge before descending there.
We struck up a conversation. At first, they were cautious, but as I spoke Surian, they became more casual and open. Surians are easy to become friends with, so soon they invited me to have dinner on a hilltop nearby.
They made a camp, laid a fire, and cooked some of their prey. I asked them all sorts of questions about the western lands.
“Down there is what we call ‘the Rivers’,” one of them, a short, young-ish-looking man, explained. “It’s a huge flat plain, across which many streams flow. They flow north, to Bumvanur, same as Last of the Rivers.”
“Are there any people out there?” I asked.
“Ho, a lot of people,” was the answer. “Too many even. There are the River People, there are the Plain People, there are the Western People, there are the Hu people.”
“The Hu are the Western people,” one woman noted.
“How’s so?”
“Just like that.”
The man sat squatting with his hand stretched out.
“Wait, Ariide’s wife is from Hu, isn’t she?”
“His wife is from Napala’a**. It’s like a different band, they are not relatives to Hu. The Hu are in the west, and Napala’a are in the north.”
“But she says she’s from Hu?”
“They all come from Hu, but Napala’a came to the north.”
“But she’s always said that she’s not from the west!”
“Because she’s from the north!” the woman said, and the man waved his hand.
“Listen, whatever, for us, they’re all Shilaans anyway.”
They proceeded to tell me how hunting in the plains had been difficult recently because Shilaans of all sorts were spreading across the plains and claiming the land and its game for themselves, causing problems for Surians. The environment was quickly changing too – summers were becoming more and more rainy, preparing meat for carrying over was becoming harder and travel itself was becoming difficult because of the Rivers getting more and more overflowed. Many bands were choosing to stay in their lands, especially the ones from the northern ridge where there had been a lot of game and crops recently due to a lot of rainfall.
“What about the lands in the north, beyond the ridge?” I asked the hunters.
“Well, straight in the north is Bumvanur*,” he said. “Those are marshes – really deep swamps, and you do not want to go there, fellow, let me tell you. West of it is the Last of the Rivers and behind this all – Wirnur***.”
During my stay back on the Three-Heads, I had heard some mentions of this land but hadn't had time to ask for details. I used the opportunity and asked about it now, and the hunters readily agreed to tell me.
This country lay far in the north, behind the Last of the Rivers, and it was filled with dry sands and hot stones, and there was nothing there except death. Not even a drop of water could be found there, not even gembil would grow there, nothing alive could survive it. This sounded very much like our “Land of Dead Sandsˮ – my companions confirmed to me that it was indeed the Land of Death.
***
Four ways lead there, each takes sixteen days. One goes across the Last River and then across the Yellow Desert. This way is guarded by Dot, the vicious spirit of deserts, who commands dust winds and throws scalding sands at trespassers. It can only be made with the help of Raven, who knows how to trick Dot.
The second way goes by the Maragor Sea. It is guarded by Wind Spirit, who commands scorching air that falls on a traveler and roasts him alive. It can only be made with the help of Fish Spirit, who knows how to escape the heat.
The third way goes through the underground. It is guarded by Underground Spirits, who eat anything that comes into their sight, and it can only be made with the help of spirits called Kawa, who know how to bypass the Underground Spirits.
And the fourth way is through Fire Spirit Ronide****. This is both the easiest one – because Ronide knows the shortest way, – but also the hardest one, for the traveler has to be burned alive and conscious, otherwise, the underground spirits will steal and gnaw the body.
Four ways lead into it, each taking sixteen days, and only one way leads out of it, and it takes sixty-four days, and no one alive knows it.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
All dead go to that land, the hunters explained. Those fallen down and gnawed by the underground spirits are transported to Wirnur in pieces. Those who drown go there by way of the Maragor Sea. Those who are burnt go there with the help of Ronide unless they do the wrong rites and call up the wrong spirit. If the wrong spirit is called, the deceased may be stolen and fed to an evil creature, and never get to Wirnur – he would be doomed to suffer in the stomach of the creature (an important addition to the stories about the Serpent, I thought to myself). And those who are willing to go there by themselves may use the direct way through the Yellow Desert, but they will have to make deals with the Raven, and that in itself can turn out to be harmful, because Raven only cares about his own gain.
There is a story told by people from the shores, the hunters then told me, about a woman named Gehilia. A fraudulent spirit stole her husband and her children and traded them with the patron of Wirnur. She wanted to reach Wirnur and return her beloved ones to life. All her tribesmen and all her relatives dissuaded her as best as they could, for it was known that returning anybody from the dead was impossible, and even if it wasn’t – it was too dangerous to try.
Still, Gehilia was persistent. She went to a shaman who lived in one of the shore caves and asked him for help. The Shaman was reluctant. He asked the woman whether she knew what going to Wirnur actually meant, but the woman said she did not care. Then the Shaman took a cup of water and held it out for her to drink. She took the cup and made a sip – the Shaman jolted the cup so that the woman choked and winced, coughing out water from her throat.
The Shaman asked for her hand. She stretched it out, and he took it, patting it cautiously. Then he bit it – the woman shrieked and pulled her hand away.
The Shaman asked for her other hand. Reluctantly, she stretched it out, and the Shaman took it and pushed it into the fire. The woman shrieked even louder and pulled the hand away.
Then the Shaman asked for her eyes. She was very distrustful now but still surrendered. The Shaman put his hand on her forehead, grabbed a handful of sand, and threw it in Gehilia’s eyes. She yelled and hit the Shaman in his face.
The Shaman was angry, but not because he was hit.
“You’re lying,” he said harshly. “There are four ways to Wirnur: by water, by sand, by gnawing spirits of earth, and by fire. Each of them is eight dozen more excruciating than any of the tests I’ve put you through, and you couldn’t even endure a single one of those! You don’t really want to die, so get out of here; go and live!”
Gehilia left the cave angry. She did not let herself suffer a single doubt – she was sure that she was going to go to Wirnur to reunite with her family. So, she did what she was supposed to do – she went to the Raven and asked him for help.
Treacherous scavenger Raven was pleased to know that somebody was willing to use his service.
“ I sure will lead you through the sands, naked huntress,” he said. “But in exchange, I will need your right arm and your left leg, and also part of your stomach, and a little bit of your spine. What do you say?”
The woman considered this and eventually agreed. She went back to her settlement to make preparations for the journey. While there, she visited her old uncle, who was one of the few people whom she trusted fully. She told him about her endeavor, and the uncle was very displeased to hear it.
“I have no place on earth, but I have a way outside of it. I’d rather follow this way and follow it to the end, and then see what I can do next. If I can return with my loved ones, I will do so. If I can’t… then I’ll stay, and my feather will flow down the Last of the Rivers.”
Her uncle could not dissuade her. He agreed, but he was sour. Still, he made preparations to assist his stubborn niece in her endeavor. He gave her a cedar cane and a cedar twig, and also a sheaf of giwellir, and a piece of seal's backbone.
With all that in her pannier, she went out, led by the treacherous bird. They passed the northern ridge and crossed the Last of the rivers. They entered the Yellow desert, and there the Raven asked her to give him her right arm. She agreed, and the treacherous bird bit her arm off; she put the cedar twig in place of it, and it turned into a new arm. The Raven was surprised.
They went on, and they reached the Deadly Canyon, and here the Raven demanded her left leg. She let him bite it off and then put the cedar cane in place of it – a new leg appeared instead of her eaten one. The Raven was astonished. He took Gehilia on his back and flew her across the canyon.
They went on, and they reached the place where Dot was standing. Here, the Raven demanded part of her stomach, and she let him bite it off; she then ate the sheaf of giwellir, Her stomach grew back, and the Raven was amazed. He led her into the underground cave that went across the rest of the desert, and by the way of that cave they went out at the end of the Desert, right in front of the pass that led into Wirnur.
“Here it is, woman,” the Raven said. “I showed you the way. Now give me the part of your spine.” She let him bite her spine off, and then she put the seal’s backbone in place, and it grew into her own one, and she had a new spine. The Raven was staggered.
“Between you and me,” he said to the woman, “where did you get those marvelous remedies?”
Gehilia knew the nature of the treacherous bird, and she knew that he was better not to know the answer.
“I got the cane and twig from Cedar, and the sheaf of giwellir I got in the savanna, and the seal’s backbone I got from the Sea, and the rest I will not tell you!”
“Kruoa!” the Raven croaked, “as you wish, then. There’s the entrance to your destination. Farewell.”
And with that, the Raven flew back to the land of Life. There he told this story to his brother Vultures, and the Vultures told this story to weidefias, and through weidefias, this story was told to everybody else.
Her uncle heard it too. He went to the shore of the Last of the Rivers – to wait for her beloved niece’s feather to flow by. He spent eighty days on the shore. On the eighty-first day, a feather of a maragorian goose floated by. He rushed into the water to catch it; it was her feather, which he knew by the form and by the colors. So, knowing that she reached Wirnur and stayed there, he turned into a rock, and that rock can still be seen on the shore of the Last of the Rivers, just northwest from here: tall, stooping, with a stone feather in hand.
***
The band of hunters put out the fire and gathered their things to go back to their settlement. The short man who talked to me the most suggested that I come with them, but I refused.
“Well, then, be careful, fella,” he said. “Watch where you step and watch who you talk to. Especially who you talk to – we’re a friendly band, but people are different down there, in the plains.”
I assured him that I’d already been aware of that, and we departed in our different ways. Seeing the rock of Gehilia’s uncle was my next goal, so I headed northwest, across the western ridge.
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Footnotes
** - /napalaˈʔa/, where "ʔ" is a glottal stop as in "oh-oh"
*** - /wirˈnur/
**** - /ˈronidɛ/