Chapter 11: Sky village – part 1

Sky Mountain, so named for being the tallest peak in all of Trace, was truly a magnificent sight. It was part of the same chain of mountains that turned into the mountains of Kaariai, but the single peak that disappeared into the clouds was much taller than the ragged edges they had just left. Its tip was always covered in snow, even in the hottest summer months, and it was also always hidden in clouds.

According to some of the mortals, that was the step the gods took to enter the mortal realm. It was what tied the two realms together. D’Argen knew that was not the case and that it was not the way home. He also knew of only one god that landed on Sky Mountain when they all fell to the mortal realm. He knew that the mountain used to be even taller.

D’Argen had not visited the summit of Sky Mountain since he first fell to the mortal realm. He had not been on it long enough to experience it in full back then, but he knew that it was too close to home. Other Never Born may have visited the summit, secretly hoping that the mortals’ stories were true, but they all came back. If there ever was a bridge between the gods’ realm and the mortals’ realm on Sky Mountain, it was no longer there.

Lilian was the one that prompted D’Argen to stop running. They were maybe a day away from the mountain foothills at his speed.

“We should find a village nearby to gather some supplies before we go up the mountain,” they said in explanation.

“Go up? I thought we only have to… Matias said the demon comes down the mountain.” D’Argen was immediately wary.

“Well, yes, but, we should check all of the mountain, just in case.”

D’Argen visibly hesitated.

Lilian looked around them as if to make sure the four companions were alone in the middle of nowhere. After a moment, they turned back to D’Argen and asked quietly, “Have you still not come back?”

“Come back? What? No! I mean…”

“D’Argen… none of us remember, it is not just you,” Lilian said the same words they had told him thousands of times before. “The gods’ realm, whatever it was, is out of our reach and memory both. Some do not even remember where they fell.”

“You are one of the lucky few that do,” Yaling said and crossed her arms over her chest as she looked off into the distance.

“Lucky? If I didn’t know the truth about the demons, I’d believe those mortal myths about Sky Mountain. You know that some call it Demon Mound?”

“Yes, D’Argen, I was there, I heard the same thing as you,” Lilian reassured him with a smile.

“I’m no demon.”

“Of course not. Nobody would ever say that. Now come, D’Argen, what is the worst that could happen?”

Oh, how D’Argen would love to make Lilian eat those words.

They spent the rest of the day searching for signs of mortals and hunting small prey. When the sun touched the horizon, the cold of the coming winter assaulted them all. Yaling finally decided to use her mahee fully to listen and then discovered a tiny village not too far from them.

The village they neared was small, barely a dozen houses in a single circle with a well in the middle. Excluding the single road that passed through the village, it was completely surrounded by farming fields. It was also completely empty and quiet, which is why Yaling had not heard it at first.

There was no forest nearby, the dirt road was barely a few furrows in the ground where multiple carts must have passed, and the air was already getting colder. Lilian, the only person D’Argen knew that hated the cold more than him, had already liberated their winter cloak from Yaling’s pack.

“I hope this does not turn out the same as Badal,” Lilian muttered into the fur collar.

“As what?” D’Argen asked before he remembered that was the name of the forest village they had visited not that long ago. “Ah, no. I hope not. If it is, we can just—”

He cut himself off when he saw a heavily pregnant woman come out of one of the houses with a bucket in one hand and supporting her belly with the other. She had long dark hair in a braid over one shoulder and though her clothes were worn and old, they were well taken care of.

D’Argen’s experience in Badal told him not to rush to help her and only announce himself. He did not have to because the woman noticed them almost immediately. Instead of the anger D’Argen was half-expecting and half-fearing, her entire face lit up and a huge smile split her lips.

“Shabir! Amastas! Come see this!” the woman shouted and put the bucket down.

Two elderly women came out from the same house she had exited. D’Argen noticed that the house had an old thatched roof and a wooden frame weathered by time. It was the biggest house in the circle but still tiny, probably only a single bedroom and common room inside it.

The two elderly women noticed the group and their expressions turned wary. They stood immediately in a protective stance around the pregnant woman.

“Pardon our late visit.” D’Argen quickly bowed his head in the mortal’s habit to show his respect. “We are travelling to Sky Mountain and were hoping to get a final night of comfortable rest and to trade for some stories, if you have them.”

“What are the chances,” one of the elderly women muttered. “Go inside. I’ll fetch the water,” she ordered and the other two women went back inside the house. Like the pregnant woman, the elderly woman’s clothes were old and worn but well taken care of. She also had a long braid flowing down her back, though in a much lighter shade.

“Ah… is there… hmm…” D’Argen was not sure what to say, his hopes falling since the woman neither offered them a place to sleep nor said any greeting at all. “The nights are getting cold and we were hoping we could… hide from the winds, as it were.” D’Argen took a step closer as he spoke and noticed the woman tense up. He immediately played it off as a turn, spinning on the spot to face his companions with exaggerated motions. “It is getting quite cold,” he said and then turned to face the woman again, keeping a comfortable distance from her. “Do you have a shed? Or even stables? We would be fine sleeping with the animals.”

“Shabir!” The call revealed which name belonged to which woman as the other elderly one came out of the house again. “Are you here with… uh… the wanderer?”

“The who?” D’Argen asked in confusion. There were some villages in the lands of Trace that referred to him as the Wandering God, but it was obvious the woman was not talking about him.

“No way,” Lilian gasped out beside him and stepped closer. “Was the wanderer here?”

Amastas nodded quickly. D’Argen was still confused. A quick glance at his other two companions revealed them to be as in the know as he was.

“He came by a few days ago, maybe? Just in time, really.”

“In time for what?” D’Argen asked, then lowered his voice so only Lilian would hear as he asked, “who’s the wanderer?”

“Marsha’s baby is due soon,” Amastas replied before Lilian could. “And our doctor, quack that he is, just noticed that we don’t have a few of the herbs needed for a safe delivery. He went to the mountain to grab them. And with winter coming soon, he took a few others with him to fill up all his stocks. Wanderer came by just as they were leaving and offered them protection on the way there and back.”

“Stop rambling,” Shabir chastised her partner with a sharp elbow to her ribs. What followed was a silent argument between the two women that involved a lot of squints and one hand being waved briefly.

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D’Argen watched them in confusion then turned slightly to look at Yaling out of the corner of his eye. The subtle scent of citrus that came out of her revealed that she was listening in but the fact that her expression did not change at all revealed that the argument was not something for him to worry over.

It seemed that Amastas won whatever argument the two had because she was the one to step forward. Like her two companions, her clothes were worn and old and her hair was in a tight braid that fell down her back. It looked completely white in D’Argen’s eyes.

“Our apologies, it has been trying times recently,” she said with a gentle tone. “We don’t have a shed to spare, but we do have two extra pallets in our own home, if you are willing to share.”

“More than enough,” D’Argen replied with a wide smile.

Shabir scoffed from the distance but when D’Argen looked at her, she was not looking at them.

“Abbot,” D’Argen called the man’s name then did a simple hand motion, giving him an order without words. The man nodded quickly and then crossed the distance, grabbing the abandoned bucket from beside Shabir and moving to the well to fill it.

“No, no,” Amastas called out to stop him but then D’Argen stepped closer to her.

“You said, trying times? Have you had issues recently?” he asked to draw her attention back to him.

“Ah yes, last winter, our village was ravaged with disease,” Amastas immediately got to talking. D’Argen guided her into turning without touching her and then slowly started walking toward the house. She followed without even noticing as she spoke, “a merchant came by and tried to sell us this one flower. Said it was really good for cough and fever. We bought a lot. Good thing we did too, it was truly a miracle and pretty sure the only thing that saved us last winter. He said he got it from Sky Mountain. A few weeks ago, he passed by again and offered to sell us more, but we still had a lot left from last winter so we didn’t buy this time.”

“And then a storm hit,” Shabir finally joined the conversation once they reached the house’s door. She was the one to open it and then motioned for D’Argen to step through. Marsha, the pregnant woman, was sitting in a rocking chair by the fire with a blanket over her lap and a ball of yarn by her feet.

D’Argen motioned for her to remain sitting and smiled, then stepped further into the tiny house for the others to follow inside. Abbot was last inside with the bucket of water and Amastas guided him to set it by the fire.

“A storm hit, you were saying?” D’Argen prompted, facing Shabir.

“Yes. We lost most of our medical stores. Isme, our doctor, said it would be fine for a bit longer. He is the lazy sort, always bought his medicines from merchants instead of making them.”

“Well,” Amastas took over the story with a gentle pat on Shabir’s shoulder, “when Marsha started feeling pre-birth pains, she sure scared him silly. He’s the father, you know? Anyway, no merchants pass by at this time and if Marsha’s babe came safe and this disease came back, it won’t survive the winter. So, he gathered up a few volunteers and decided to go gather the herbs himself.”

“And this… wanderer… he just… showed up and offered to help?” D’Argen asked, his voice skeptical. “Without payment or anything?”

“D’Argen,” Lilian drew his attention, even though he noticed both of the mortal women stiffen when they heard his name. “It is his atonement,” Lilian said it so quietly that even D’Argen barely heard them.

D’Argen was confused only for a moment before the word registered. There was a Wandering God. He had gone by a different title almost a thousand years ago, one which led to him losing his rank and a lot of his powers, and then he was told to find atonement by helping the mortals of the lands.

“Thar? He was here?” he asked in excitement, facing Shabir and Amastas once more. “Where is he now? He went up the mountain with the others?” D’Argen had not seen Thar in centuries. Not since… he shook his head to dislodge the thought before it could plant itself and dig deep.

“Ah… he did not share his name. But you… you are D’Argen? The water runner?” Amastas asked, her smile becoming blinding with how wide it was.

“The… what?”

“D’Argen, one with the ocean, runs on water?” she asked to confirm.

D’Argen heard both Yaling and Lilian snicker under their breath behind him. He turned a glare to his companions before facing the two village women again. “I take it you’ve heard of me?”

“Oh yes! The children, when they play pretend, one of them always pretends to be the runner and the others try to catch them.”

“I have a… game… after me?”

“You are famous around here! D’Argen! I didn’t know what you looked like. Oh, no. Look at this. We only have two pallets to offer you. Shabir, you should ask Yawa if she and her family are willing to share for the night so—”

“No, no,” D’Argen interrupted. “No need. Truly. We are used to sleeping on the open road. A pallet is a luxury for us.” He ignored the almost audible eye-roll that Lilian threw him from the corner of his eye.

“Well, you must at least let us make you dinner. If you… do you eat? We don’t know much of the gods here, we don’t have anyone lettered, so I never understood if—”

“Yes, please,” D’Argen interrupted again with a wide grin. “But only if you let us provide the ingredients.”

His words were the only prompting Abbot needed to undo his pack and reach into it. He took out the five hares they had caught earlier that day and held them out without a word.

Both Amastas and Shabir visibly hesitated, though their eyes did not stray away from the animals. It looked obvious to D’Argen that the two had not eaten meat in a while.

“Oh, give them here. I’ll skin and clean them,” Marsha said from her rocking chair by the fire. When Abbot was beside her she directed him to gather a few other things around the small room until he was finally settled on the ground by her feet and helping her with the dead animals.

D’Argen knew his face was becoming uncomfortably pale. “I should—”

“How do you know D’Argen?” Lilian interrupted him before he could make his escape. They clearly knew him too well.

“Shabir’s father, he was village head before her. And his mother before him, and her mother, and her father, and a lot of generations going back,” Amastas started talking. Lilian, like D’Argen had done earlier, gently guided the old woman to one of three other empty chairs near the table and then settled her in to sit. “They all knew the story of D’Argen, the runner, the Envoy of Evadia, passing through here a long, long time ago. Back then, our tiny village was much bigger. But then…”

D'Argen stopped listening to the story as he thought back on it. As far as he knew, he had never stopped at this village before. He was not even sure of the name. His name was not spoken as often as Acela’s or with such love as Cana’s. He was unknown to most mortals, and he liked it that way. Yes, he had passed through this area many times before, but it would have been the blink of an eye to the mortals as he ran from one destination to another.

Whatever impression D’Argen had made on a long-dead ancestor, had turned into wild stories that circulated in the village and made Yaling burst out laughing multiple times. Even Lilian cracked a smile. And while D’Argen could, in fact, run on water, there was no water anywhere near the village other than the single well in the middle.

Marsha and Abbot threw the cut pieces of hare meat into a metal pot over the fire and D’Argen looked away before his stomach could try and expel itself, even though it was completely empty.

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