Level: Observer

About 3900 BC
“Do you see anything?” Sumatanaki asked the Commander of the Palace guards for the twentieth time in three long days.
“No sir.”
There were only three passes into the Valley. Ankolykan, Eagle Pass, was the highest and coldest.
A snowflake settled on Sumatanaki’s pointed nose, which he had forgotten protruded from beneath his hood. He bent his head down slightly, but a drop of water collected under the tip of his nose. He could feel it swaying as he breathed heavily in and out, sending small clouds of steam to blur the landscape. Winter was coming and he longed for the warm stones of the Palace on the Lake, down in the bottom of the bowl formed by the peaks of the six mountains. He could just see it if he turned his eyes to the left but he preferred not to be reminded and screwed up his eyes instead to see further into the dimly lit gulley of the pass.
This was the pass they always used since they had seen the great fish in the sky, thirty-two moons before. It would be least expected by a powerful enemy wishing to invade the Valley. Sumatanaki’s men had blocked the other two passes with fortified gates and guarded them night and day.
“We must withdraw to the caves sir,” the Commander said. “It’s almost dark. The men will freeze to death.”
“No. There is still light. Puktanik said he would come. He should have been here two days ago. But he will come. I know it!”
For a moment the falling snow seemed to form into an undulating curtain. Sumatanaki forgot what he had just been thinking and saw everything through the eyes of a baby. The drop of water fell from his nose, easing the itch that had been growing. Sumatanaki turned his focus to the end of his nose for a moment, looking for any black discolouration that would indicate the dreaded snow bite. “There! I see something!” one of the soldiers hissed.
“Stay down and stay calm,” the Commander replied.
Out of the blue haze of early dusk and fluttering white flakes of snow, emerged a line of ten men, leading a lamaka. The soldiers watched the approaching men until they were almost under the overhang of rock opposite. Sumatanaki could wait no longer. He called out to the leader of the men:
“Who comes into the Valley without permission?”
“I do!” the familiar voice of his brother replied. The man stopped and pulled back his fur hood to reveal the long, black tresses of a royal El-yr. Sumatanaki scrambled down to the path and embraced his brother.
“Do you have it? We have waited so long?”
“Hey, little brother. Not so fast. I need something hot to drink and a warm bed!”
“We have them in the caves. Follow us.”
Sumatanaki held back, watching Puktanik’s men file past, but when the lamaka passed, flicking its long lashes at the snowflakes, he couldn’t resist lifting the panaha on its pack harness. He saw a heavy leather case, but bronze locks and rope knots held its lid tightly closed. He shrugged and followed the men into the caves.
“We will go down in the morning!” Puktanik said. “My men are too tired now.”
Sumatanaki nodded, taking a seat by the fire and ladling some of the foul meat stew from the cauldron into a bowl. He looked at his brother. His brown eyes were as dark as Sumatanaki’s, nose just as pointed, a feature of the Brotherhood, but his face looked like it had been chiselled into a handsome profile. Sumatanaki knew his own face to be more square than chiselled. But he didn’t feel envy for his brother. Puktanik didn’t look much changed; he still wore his shorter hair tied back in a pony-tail, whereas Sumatanaki wore his black hair down to the shoulders and free. Yet it occurred to him that Puktanik and his men should be laughing, at least smiling, and yet their faces looked hard as stone.
“Where are the rest of the Army?” he asked.
“They won’t be coming back,” Puktanik replied.
Only when the men had begun to bed down and the fire guttered to embers, did Sumatanaki dare to ask the question again. He sat close to his brother and whispered:
“What did you find?”
Puktanik let out a deep sigh.
“Many of the Brotherhood died before we even reached the Land of the Ark. There were many battles to be fought and we found few allies. Rumour of our nature has passed before us little brother. The world out there is no longer our friend.”
“Was it ever?”
Once the El-yr ruled half of the world but now our City is our last stronghold. I hear that in the far East they no longer eat meat but farm crops alone. The old ways are almost gone. We are a cursed folk. Cursed!”
“Now Puktanik! You have always been prone to such thoughts. God has not cursed us.”
“He may as well have. I believe he may have inspired the hatred against us. But anyway, I know you have waited long for news. Yes, we found it. But it is not as we thought.”
“Well? What is it?”
Puktanik hair had not been cut or washed in many moons; it hung lank like a black curtain across his blue eyes, rare among the folk of the Valley. Many maidens wanted his hand in marriage and many men hated him the more for it. But Sumatanaki saw only the good in his brother. He knew his brother would have brought great treasures to him, if not in wealth, then in wisdom. He waited eagerly for Puktanik to speak.
“It is most like a cup, though as large as a jug, narrowing at the top, and though carved from a greenish wood, it is heavy. But I think the Cup of Everlasting Life is not the most important thing; it is what lies within. We found a single, shrivelled seed, about the size of a lime but we were told when you add water it grows to the size of a lacuma and is ready to plant. And I have seen them Puktanik!”
“What?”
“Rows of beautiful, tall trees. They are blue! Not bright blue but like a pine tree’s leaves are sometimes almost a smoky blue. These are a little bluer still. And they grow as tall as four houses and the trunk is as thick as a cart. But the magic they have within them is the greatest of all wonders!”
“Why? Tell me!” Puktanik whispered, taking his brother’s bracelet-girt wrist.
“The people in that land cut them down and build houses with them. Well actually, only the richest use them for houses. But even the poorest use them for bed frames. Whoever lays in such a house or bed has many children. They say that almost every time a man and woman lie together, a child is begat.”
“It is a wonder!”
“Of course, except when the woman is already pregnant … . But sometimes the man will take other wives if they are willing. And their population has grown like the branches of a mighty tree! I saw with my own eyes thousands of healthy children. They have no ailments and all live to see adulthood!”
Sumatanaki looked serious at the unexpected news.
“Yes. That is better than we expected. It sounds more natural. But is it from the One Tree? The First Tree? That God made?”
“Yes. They say so.”
“And how did you get it?”
“Ah! That is the most terrible thing. Even though we have traded for many centuries with them, now they would not hear of a price. Only when one of my men, unbeknownst to me, bribed one of their holy men to speak in our favour – with my gold, no less – would they take council with us. The bribed man proposed that in his opinion the cup was only a simple cup and not necessary to the process of seed rejuvenation. But I fear he lied. When I found out about The Brother’s actions, I slew him myself by slitting his throat and drinking his blood. But the damage was done and what could I do? We continued to bargain. It took all our gold to convince them to part with the cup and only one seed. Even then, they changed their mind as we left them, and attacked us. I lost half the remaining Brothers and all our mak’ku. It was a terrible battle. Had we not the use of faster legs, we would not have lived. But they will not forget us. We cannot go there again!”
“I see. It is a terrible tale. To think we have paid so much for so little. One wooden cup and one seed! Will it be enough?”
“I believe so. But let’s speak no more. I’m dreadfully weary.”
Sumatanaki watched his brother slip under a fur skin and a while later, begin to snore. The fire felt too warm to leave. As men wandered from the cave to relieve themselves he watched the shadows of their heads, each with pointed noses and long hair, on the grey rock of the cave walls. They reminded him of festival puppets and made him wonder what would happen to the Brotherhood. He murmured two lines of the ancient poem of his people to himself:

Dark are we, who came and who saw,
But lost are we, for we know not what for.

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