11 The Next Step
Jaumes
Paravu was the sacred place of Jiwado: a cavern of lava pools. The pools fed the streams of lava that ran through each town in the volcano. Many a prophet or confused and searching depojico had gathered here to hear the words of the Mountain for them. Jaumes definitely fell into the latter category right now.
What didn’t help was that he was doubting the validity of the Mountain’s help right now. The echoes of his dream still rang in his mind- the moon climbing, the Mountains falling. At the very least, Paravu was a quiet place to gather his thoughts.
The pools glowed dimly as he entered. The cavern was lit instead by skylights placed under the edges of Jiwado’s crater. While they provided light, their primary purpose was to let the spirits of the dead visit from Jujavu if they chose.
Confused and entreating depojico were spattered around the walls and floors, none daring to get closer than a couple feet from the pools’ edges. A waterfall of lava flowed directly from the crater, casting a dry heat over the whole sacred area.
Jaumes situated himself two feet away from the most isolated lava pool. He closed his eyes and let his mind unwind. Silence was critical in depojico worship. The Mountains saw all, heard all, and knew each situation. There was no need to tell Them anything. The only way to show respect was to be silent and listen.
So the tradition went. Most depojico never left the mountains. Actually, most only left their hatching town to worship at Paravu. Could the Mountains actually help Jaumes? Could he find calm and peace through their restricting walls?
Two hours later, Jaumes returned to Pa Papa. The lava pools hadn’t worked. All they’d done was make him restless and frustrated. The dry heat had restored his energy, though.
The townsfolk ignored Jaumes as he walked home. It was already normal to see him around, apparently. He was surprised to notice that it bugged him to be invisible again.
I’m guessing Honasa caused that change, he thought.
At an intersection, placed a couple of neighborhoods away from Jaumes’, he noticed the merchant stalls again. His childhood plan resurfaced in his mind. Without even a pause, Jaumes changed his trajectory. He walked up to the nearest merchant, who was selling small metal parts for machines.
“Hello!” the merchant greeted him, “What can I get for you today?”
“Actually, I was wondering if you’d be willing to take on a vand,” Jaumes said.
The merchant nodded knowingly.
“I’ll have to see your sibling to judge if a wandering life would work for them,” he said.
“I’m asking for me,” Jaumes said.
Startled, the merchant looked him up and down.
“Aren’t you a little old to become a vand?” he asked.
Jaumes didn’t hesitate in his response.
“I’ve spent the last year studying different careers. My father insisted, since I don’t want to follow in his trade. This career was the first conclusion I reached, and by now I’m only more certain,” he said.
The merchant looked impressed.
“I already have an apprentice, but I can ask around my caravan to see if anyone else will take you,” he bobbed his head, “Come back tomorrow and I’ll let you know.”
Jaumes nodded once, then bobbed his head twice.
“I will. Thank you,” he said.
As he began to walk away, the merchant called out,
“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask your name.”
“Jaumes Oiv,” Jaumes said.
The merchant bobbed his head in a friendly way.
“I’m Samonu Nije. I hope you join the caravan, Jaumes!” he said.
Jaumes bobbed his head twice.
“Thank you,” he said.
A warm feeling bubbled up inside Jaumes. Here was a place where people didn’t judge him off of the past. Here they didn’t expect anything from him about his family or failed profession. They didn’t even know. He could start fresh.
Am I just looking for depojico that treat me like Honasa and Mahela did? he thought with a head bob.
The warmth faded as he neared the Oiv house. The yelling had continued while he was gone, and didn’t seem to be letting up just yet. Jaumes took a deep breath and walked in.
* * * * *
Greenbrook
Greenbrook was out in the fields with Chief Firmston, learning about managing the farms of the people of the Western Forest. A man dressed in deer leather emerged silently from the forest, his hand raised in a gesture of peace.
“Chief of the Western Forest!” he called.
Chief Firmstone turned to him. The men farming around him tensed, ready to attack this outsider at his command. But the Chief raised his hand as well.
“Ambassador of the Forest Glade,” the Chief said, “What brings you to our People?”
The ambassador walked through the field, each step surrounding him further by people of his enemies. He stopped about three feet away from Greenbrook and the Chief. Despite the men around him, the ambassador was clearly angry.
“You have been overhunting,” he said, “Aunt Forest is very angry. She tried to warn you herself, but you didn’t listen. Now I bring the warning she gave to Chief Swiftfoot to you: stop overhunting, or the people of Forest Glade will wipe out the people of the Western Forest.”
Chief Firmstone stiffened. Greenbrook waited nervously to see how he’d respond.
“We have only been killing the lizards, and they are enemies to the human species,” the Chief said, “They have language as we do, and have a mighty civilization in the mountains. They’ve been watching humans since we were Struck, studying us to learn how to destroy us. We must destroy them first.”
The ambassador raised an eyebrow skeptically.
“How do you know this?” he asked.
“We caught one that was disguising itself as a human with illusions,” Greenbrook cut in, “We brought him to Mother Moon, and she made him tell us all. Any person here can tell you.”
The ambassador shook his head.
“Even if you are correct, and the lizards are threats, you must find another way to deal with them. Aunt Forest is very angry and will help us destroy you if you continue. Do you fear these lizards more, or us?” he asked.
His tone on the word “lizards” communicated clearly that he didn’t believe them. Chief Firmstone stepped forward.
“They are my People, and I will protect them from every enemy that attacks them,” he said coldly.
The ambassador’s face hardened, and he nodded and stepped back.
“Then you have sealed your People’s fate,” he said, “I will tell Chief Swiftfoot to prepare for war.”
Chief Firmstone and Greenbrook both nodded resolutely. The ambassador raised his hand in peace again, then disappeared into the forest. Now the Western Forest had more enemies.
