Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The Priestess

The wintry valley fell before us, as my breath was taken away, joining a fleeting wind rapidly disappearing behind me. The snows of the conical Sanak Tama, dripped in jagged glaciers, into the golden folds of the valley. The golden pastures stretched on, crossing the vast, vacuous plane, leaving little abnormality, afar from the ripples of rivers, crossing the valley, no doubt form of melting snow.

The sun, now slightly beyond midday, reflected only slightly the shadow of the immense titan of a mountain, yet this alone spread across the golden valley, the only dark entity, the shadow of the mountain, within it contained the city, the city of Celephais.

I sighed in perplexity of the enormous scenery. A feeling of mystified wonder and horror struck me, precisely at once. It was a sight of great between, somehow transfixed to ancient mysteries, mysteries I knew had answers to. There was a dark secret within the walls of a shadow, of a dream, which was incarnate in stone, beneath the snow. Its name was the city of dreams.

We had stopped riding, and as I looked over the landscape, I momentarily moved my gaze to Carlos, who stood, as bewildered as I was. His expression, however, did not confer the same wonder as mine. His eyes told a different story, like a deep longing. He let out his own breath, as if he had been parted from the valley too long, as if unable to breath in outside of its confines.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Is this beautiful view not a good enough justification?” he answered, not challengingly, but instead as if asking the very same question to himself.

I quickly answered, “Maybe. But I think that’s not it at all.”

He looked at me, with the same eyes, as he had at the valley. They told of some sadness, and nostalgia for this place, “I seem to be looking for some lost emotion I stored in this place.”

“A lost emotion?” We continued to ride, now downwards, since the other riders, not quite as affected by the view, had gone ahead without us.

“I guess I’m not sure what it is. I am revisited by old emotions, somehow tied to this place.”

I looked at him again, and found his pensive glare, now turned to the blue sky, with awe. “Well, don’t forget to tell me what it is, if you find it.”

“I won’t.”

The wind, now rigidly cold, blew ferociously, as we made our descent into the valley floor. It moaned on every surface, bellowed and bayed with sternness of a voice. It was a voice that whispered the secrets of an ancient time, where this valley and this view were exactly the same for the people who had first found it.

“Why is it called the city of dreams…?” I felt to ask, apprehensively.

He turned his gaze to me again, “I can’t say. But I, and this is just my own opinion, think it is because once this valley was only a desert of dead, burnt trees. You see, this is a volcano, or at least was, a long time ago.” He pointed to Sanak Tama, starkly.

“I have an image in my head. Where people of the lower lands travelled up the rugged cliffs, just as we did, and between the cloud watching and lovely laying in the grass, reached this very outlook on the entire valley. It must have been a dried wasteland. And this people, the first people, the city of Celephais must have been no more than a simple mirage amongst the smoke.”

He paused, as if to reflect over his own answer. “But that is just my own grasp of things. And I think you can ask someone else, someone who would know the answer.”

“Who?” I inquired, almost immediately.

“You will see.”

We then made quick way down the valley, at a surprising rate, first catching up with the other riders. I managed to catch a glimpse of Naomi’s expression of amazement towards the vast scenery. Puk still rode keeled over, silently, not even allowing me to see her eyes.

We dipped into the vast bowl, now blocked from the ancient wind, and continued among the resounding, blowing grass. The landscape was, although of a glimmering hue from above, almost a barren desert from among the vegetation. There was only the golden hay and an occasional bush.  

As our ragged band of riders made its way across the expanse, we dipped far enough into the bowl so that I lost view of the ancient ruins of Celephais. The black stone ruins disappeared and my gaze finally deviated. We had drawn closer and closer to the base of Sanak Tama and now through our proximity, one could literally smell the ice and snow. The end of the mountains glaciers drew only a few steps higher than the valley floor.

We all rode past, as if going around the base of the mountain. We walked and slumped, mostly in silence, only disturbed by the occasional wind, which tore through the cloaks of the riders or made one of us shiver.

Carlos, riding in front of me, never had his gaze purely set on the road ahead, but instead was fixed to the valley surroundings. He seemed deep in thought, so I also remained mostly silent. I only opened my mouth to speak as we passed the first sign of civilization.

A small brook, trickled past, and created a slight dip in the flat valley, sheltering some snarling trees, just outside of the wind. Our path blocked by this natural trench, I noticed the first signs of a man made construct.

Something that must at one point have been a bridge stretched over the trench, constructed from only a few select stones. These, which looked almost perfectly smooth, were consumed by crawling greenish moss, which curled up and down like blood vesicles. The small stone crossing had clearly fallen to pieces already, since some boulders were laid on the floor, within the brook, just inches away.

However, it was the extravagant markings which caught my attention. Curling signs and symbols, pictograms, and old writings I could not even barely hope to understand or read, were carved into every inch and surface. I looked at the carvings just beneath our horses’ hooves, watching how the moss had crawled through the written spaces in the rock, coloring the writing.

Overall, the bridge gave off an air of antiquity. It breathed like a relic of people who had seen this very place a long time ago.

I turned to Carlos, with curiosity, “Was this built by the people who built Celephais?”

Carlos shook his head, as if escaping from a trance and looked back at me, seeming rather confused and repeated, in a whisper, “People?”

After a second of hesitation, he then continued, “O, no… not nearly old enough for that.”

Then he turned back and I looked from where the brook flowed and immediately let go of my breath in surprise.

In front of me was a magnificent grove, cut into a bowl of black stone. The bowl, carved in jaggedly, held in what looked like a pool of the same water, the source of the brook.

The grove, created by the thick, twisting trees, was lush and covered in flowers of nearly any assortment. All around the pool, just on the stone bank, stood several protruding monoliths, which had been carved into runes, the same way the bridge had been. These runes, which seemed to resemble different figures and animals, formed a circle around the pond. The pool, which bubbled and stirred, had at its center a single flat black stone, which resembled somewhat of an altar. This was the only stone which had not been engraved.

I looked at this strange shrine with astonishment, as it gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, each and every color somehow looking even more brilliant.

Carlos, not turning but clearly predicting my surprise, spoke suddenly, as we continued to pass the bridge, “This is an ancient site of worship. It is sustained by the riders, but only during the winter solstice.”

I looked down at the brook again, “Where does this water come from?”

“It is a spring, and also the source of the River Politics, which runs through the kingdoms of Tom and Roy. However, up here, it has a different name.”

‘What?”

“Eve.” He answered, giving the word no further explanation.

“Was this built by the people of the city?” I asked again, still curious as to the city we were forsaken to enter.

“This place,” Carlos began to answer, “was built by people, as much as the mountain was. The city, I am afraid is a bit controversial. But in the same way.”

I did not doubt the words, but simply glanced back as the beautiful grove disappeared from my view.

“It is said,” Carlos continued, “that the ancient riders worship this spring, it is said to be sacred where ghosts are always about.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”  

“What kind of ghosts?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted,as if he was sad he did not know the answer.

We trudged along what seemed to become more and more like a concrete path. What was once a dirt clearing suddenly became paved in occasional stones and then an almost smooth path of cobblestones.

We crossed brooks and rivers, one after another, each marked by a stone bridge, inscribed, just like the first. We made our way, circling the endless mountain, digging deeper into what seemed and felt like an ancient forgotten land.

Then, after escaping yet another trench, from which a river swayed past, we exited from the slight elevation into a slightly new landscape. The majestic ruined city once again came into view, only this time with greater resolutions.

I could see the rising towers and palaces of stone within, rising above the smaller constructs. I could see arches and parapets and walls. However all this glimmered, not in the light of the sun, which was nefariously blocked out by the frigid mountain, but instead in a pure black hue.

What I could not see from afar was that the entire city was made of a perfectly dark stone. Almost like obsidian or black glass, but with the shiny aspect of marble.

My eyes probably bulged, as I beheld the wondrous city of dreams, Celephais.

“There it is!” I heard Sofia call, only a few paces ahead.

“The city of Celephais.” Carlos revealed to me, with a gesture of presentation with his arm.

“It’s beautiful...” I managed, looking for words to describe what my eyes were telling me.

I must have been aghast, taken aback, without words.

And for some reason, at that very instant, I realized my great mistake. Reaching into my pocket, I, to my dismay, discovered the key, I had sworn to return, back in MUNtopia. The key to the escape of thousands.

My grip on the cold metal, tightened, like the shock of ice cold liquid on my back, dripping into my palms and into my pocket. My heartbeat stopped for √-1 of a second, and I, sat there, on the horse, entirely silent.

Nothing seemed to move as a million thoughts screamed past, and a slight breeze perturbed my hair.

“Oh, oops.” I uttered, simply and almost against my will.

“What?” Carlos, asked, almost letting out a laugh.

“O, nothing.” I quickly answered, in order to cover my words.

I then sat on the horse, thinking over what horrible mistake I had made. I had been told one thing, and I had failed to keep it. My thoughts raced to the resistance, al the trapped souls in the city, that horrible city. Yoav had told me one thing, and even that I had failed.

Of all things, how could I have forgotten to put it back? I held the small brass key, the cold, metallic surface, within my pocket. It felt like a spear through my head.

Carlos, meanwhile, had been speaking to me in a low, monotone voice, and I only then began to okay attention, “...But I guess, it’s more of this nostalgia, that comes over me, it’s like this wind. This cold, unforgiving wind. It tastes like the black stones. You know?”

“Hmmm?” I fumbled, confused, “O, yes, of course, yeah, you’re right.”

Still grasping the miniscule key within my palm, I looked over the shoulder of my guide, and looked down at the dark, shadowlike structure.

I had already seen the city, I had seen its color and had already made out several of its buildings, but as I turned over to look, it struck me immediately how much closer we were and a feel of reckoning flooded through me. Something of the city suddenly seemed all the more mystifying. Its now enhanced detail, sent an unforgettable shiver down my spine.

Something about the city, how it sprawled under the shadow of the mountain, how dark and foreboding it was, how unnatural it all seemed, perturbed me. It was like the surface of a forgotten planet, or like the figure of a nightmare that terrifies you without reason. It was something you only imagine, only see through a filter, in your mind. In the flesh, among the natural world, something did not belong.

Even worse, as I grasped the key, harder and harder, imagining at the same time my guilt, I seemed to feel the city, Celephais, knew. As if the city had put it there, as if the ruins had divined my mistake, my feelings, my error.

Behind, a much more inviting scene, Sanak Tama, the glorious mountain, shone with the afternoon sun, just over its shoulder.

And then, the snow gleemed its last, and the sun went behind the peak. We had entered the shadow of the mountain.

Immediately, around us the ground changed. All the vegetation which had covered the landscape disappeared, revealing a pure white, sandy surface, void of life.

Not only this, but eerily, in front, near the other riders, I could see the valley we had just entered. The city was close, but even closer, the land was covered, with sparsely separated stones. These stones, like large monoliths, as tall as trees, white and smooth, stood, like gravestones, to both our sides. As I looked out to the valley leading to the city, I could see that for as long as I could see, the stones continued on.

“What are these?” I asked, Carlos, as my grip around the key only tightened.

There was a grave silence, before he continued, “This valley, it is called, Yana Miunma. It means the cemetery of origin. According to the shamans of Ecuador, this is where spirits come to be buried.”

I looked at the pure stones around me and grimaced at the ominous idea of us stepping on the graves of old spirits. I diverted my eyes from them; each one chilled my bones. Up ahead, the same black ruins haunted me.

The entire city now fast approaching looked like a cemetery of its own. Each tombstone was black like the night, remnants of older, probably larger structures. There were the remnants of walls around the circumference of the city, although with various gaps, and cave ins. The city was large, and seemed to be organized into a chessboard sort of arrangement, with paved roads, clawing within it.

However, in the center of the city stood the most notable of buildings, and by far the largest. As the roads curved and made for the center of the city, a single, massive construct stood black and pure, unlike any darkness I had ever seen. In itself, its silhouette seemed to melt into the shadow of the mountain above. This building was hardly destroyed at all and resembled something of a massive steeple, mounted on a cubic figure. It was a single spiralling tower.

I looked on to the city with amazement, yet my eyes fell on dark mass which appeared to be moving. My sight quickly diverted and I spotted a crowd of flickering lights, and black cloth.

It was a horde of people, who entered the city moving up through one of the gaps of the wall. I watched with amazement the sheer number of people who were here, at this nefarious site. Yet, it was not hard to imagine what it was they were worshipping. This place, at least, I could admit, held something special within it.

Our entourage made a final dip, until a small hill, and then, we were there, amongst the people. Beneath us, walked people of all sorts and sizes. Some wore fancy head dresses of beautifully ornate feathers. Others ponchos and single leather caps. And some, simple tatters and rags, however, none wore the same, they all looked different in their own way.

The one similarity the mob seemed to have, was that every so often someone carried a  blazing torch in one hand, while every single member, wore his or her head down, almost in solemn prayer. Their heads kneeled, the procession walked on, towards the open city.

As we passed, they all stopped in their tracks, and began to mumble something, in a language I did not understand. Carlos, in front of me, looked down at the people around him, but he as well was uttering under his breath, some old words I couldn’t hear.

We approached closer and closer and closer to the city, as the crowds around us grew thicker and thicker. It became harder and harder for us to move on our horses. Not only that, but our group had grown smaller and smaller as some of the riders, had gone off on their own way.

The day had grown late, and I could tell it was nearly twilight. Behind us, the glorious grey mountain of Sanak Tama now shone with the iridescent sun behind it. The entire outline of the mountain was purple and orange with what I believed was the setting sun’s light. The torches’ light became more and more prominent, and then, just at the cusp of the entrance to which everyone was flooding, we stopped.

“Celephais, we have made it. And just on time too.” Carlos declared, as we sat on our steads, just before the opening.

From the side of my eye, I could see another man, galloping towards us. He was not covered in a cloak like everyone else on a horse, but instead, wore a colorful poncho, which covered his entire body, and a cap, which turned into a mask, covering everything but the man’s eyes.

He stopped, just in front of Carlos, and removed the mask, most dramatically.

“Jose!” Carlos suddenly exclaimed, “Where have you been?!”

The man on the horse took off the mask, and revealed a dark skinned, bearded face. The man also had brown eyes and a smile, which always seemed slightly amused at something. He looked at us, smiled, slightly, then answered, “I just got here!”

Carlos stared, his mouth wide open, almost unable to answer.

Jose, smiling even broader now, answered, “Yeah. I was taking my time because, I was working on my new project. You know how we have our tents and we live in these tents?”

He stopped, waiting for an answer, and then continued, “So I  thought, ‘Hey, we are also using socks all the time.’ And we lose our socks all the time, right?” This time, he directed the question at me, and I answered by quickly nodding in his direction.

“I know! O my God!” he continued, smiling, everytime, wider and wider, “I’ve lost like… all my socks! And I hear people say, O! I found some socks! But they’re never mine. So if we take the socks and recycle...We can build tents out of recycled material and save a lot on tents and socks!”

There was a small moment, of silence. Only the shuffling of people passing by and the footsteps of Naomi, Isabelle and Puk, with their own riders, from behind.

“Wait… But….” I asked, rather slowly, “How do you save on socks? Couldn’t you just… keep an eye on your socks?”

Jose, now entirely aiming his comments at me, answered, “I thought so too! But whenever…!”

“RECYCLED SOCKS!” Carlos suddenly erupted, finally free from his perplexity, “RECYCLED SOCKS! You are telling me, you almost missed the most sacred of days, the most sacred holiday of all of our cultures, and tribes, the day which has never been missed by not one of the 304 tribes of Ecuador, FOR RECYCLED SOCKS!”

“And tents.”

“AND TENTS!” Carlos, furious sapped his head with a palm. “I don’t understand how you manage, every time, to get here, just on the verge of being late.”

“Again.”

“AGAIN! Everytime! You are always just moments from destroying our customs and traditions.”

“I know,” Jose answered, a smile still on his face, “But we’re just always busy! And it’s even worse. O my GOD! Those greedy corporates from Inbarberg, they’re just always getting closer and closer...I…”

“Okay, okay.” Carlos waved his hands, as if anticipating what was to follow, “If I keep listening this, I am also going to be late. At least for now, the people have arrived, and the city will be full.” He turned back to look at me, and smiled, weakly, “This is where we part. I will leave you here, and you all can walk into the city. It shouldn’t be hard to find your way, just follow the light.”

“Why can’t we come with you?” I asked, as behind me, Naomi, Isabelle, and Puk were helped down.

“We have to be some place else… for now. Don’t worry, I have no doubt we will meet again.”

He smiled, again, then let me down from the horse. My feet had just reached the ground, before, he galloped off, Jose just behind. I watched, as he disappeared, his cloak blowing behind, as he was consumed by the crowd, into the dark city.

I turned back to see my crew, all standing still, except for Sofia, who held her horse by the reigns, as she stood next to it. Puk stood, her head down, staring at the ground, just like all the other tribesmen in the mob. I wanted to ask her if she was okay, but I refrained myself. I knew it was simply a culture I didn’t understand.

In the commotion and amazement, a small piece of brass was now so so tightly gripped in my hand, it had probably left a mark. I remembered what it was, and suddenly I let out a breath of exasperation. There really was no hope. Especially for those I had left behind. I sighed; I could not forget my actions.

I looked towards Sofia, asking, “Who was that?”

She looked at me, rather indifferently, and answered, “O, just the second Chieftain of the Ecuadorian tribes, Jose. The two of them rule together, he to the South, Carlos to the North.”

I nodded, to say I had understood, then looked towards the city, past all the people, solemnly looking down. The torches glittered in the near night light.

“Let’s go.” I added, and then began to walk, following the crowd, into the maze of dark stone graves.

I walked, side by side, with the members of the crowd, whose once colorful clothes now seemed as dark as the night sky. I could see their faces and mumbling mouths move under the light of fire. Our steps all sounded swiftly and delicately on the pavement floor.

We slowly made our way into the city, past the smooth stone walls. As I entered the city, I saw to all sides, riders, standing at their posts, not twitching a muscle. I heard some faster steps, and then, besides me Naomi approached, asking, “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

I gave her a look of confusion, and then replied “What? No, nothing.”

She continued to look at my expression, examining me for any sign, then dryly replied, “Okay.” However, she continued to walk beside me.

As we walked, I looked to my sides. Every surface in the city was made of the same, purely black stone. It was all, however, illuminated by candles, which had been placed anywhere where they would stick. Amongst the vast stones, walls, and roofs, I could see the trees and vines, which had consumed the ancient ruin. These also, had been covered with candles, and glowed ominously.

The strangest thing, however, was, while the walls and buildings were pure, in their dark tendrils, the floors, in some of the torn buildings, were made of intricate mosaics. These, although I could scarcely see, were pictographs of an ancient language I could not read. The letters, curved and strung around every inch of the floors, into fantastic illegible figures.

I marveled at their intricacy, until, we all walked into the mausoleum of this ancient graveyard, the great building in the center. I had been oblivious to our approach, and was startled when my surroundings grew even darker. I looked up and saw the massive roof of the complex, all held by a columns, of the same black marble.

The entire structure made things, completely dark, pitch black. I looked back, and saw Naomi and Isabelle, both confused, both looking to me.

“This way?” I asked pointing.

The other two simply stood there, shrugging. Puk, however, walked on, into the shadow of the building. I watched her and then she suddenly disappeared in the darkness. Perplexed by what I had seen, and by all the people and torches which seemed to do the same, I began to slowly stalk among the pillars. The three of us moved into the darkness, until I could not even see my hands. And then, pushing across, I found what appeared to be a massive black curtain. I passed through the veil, and beyond it, was stunned by a brilliant light. The entire massive room beyond was illuminated by the flame of millions of torches, all held by the crowd gathered at its center, and hung on the walls above. However, these did little to add to the luminous room, for the room was truly and utterly massive. From a distance, I had clearly failed to notice how large the palace truly was.

It was so vast and so capacious, that the crowd gathered at the center must have been of several millions. The room, was circular, yet dipped into the center, so that the entire thing resembled some sort of narrowly deep bowl, with the deepest point at the exact center.

For this reason, I could see above the immense amount of people and their torches, all the way to the center. And in the center rose the masterpiece of the structure. A massive skeleton of a staircase, rising to the roof high above. It was exceedingly high, almost impossibly, and made the entire building seem like a tent of near colossal size. The staircase, I reasoned, must have led to the tower, I had seen from out of the city.  

Not only this, but also the floor was a breathtaking mosaic, stretching the entire palace, all across the floor. And it was covered with the same pictographs as before, spiraling to the center.

I stared at this site, actually, all of us did, with open, astounded mouths. We did not move, except Sofia, who with a whisper exhorted us, “Come on guys, move… over there… yeah.”

We followed her, and then stood, among the crowd, which seemed to be waiting, completely still, now looking on to the center of the scene. We seemed to stand there, simply watching, and, for a few minutes, my hand still on the small piece of brass in my pocket, I realized we had been standing there for quite some time.

I looked to my right and saw Puk, and her eyes, for the first time in quite a while. She was looking intently to the center, just like Naomi and Isabelle did right next to her.

To my left, Sofia looked on, with rather a lot of indifference. “What are we waiting for?” I asked her.

She didn't turn to me, but answered, “Just wait Amir, look.”

She motioned with her eyes, and I saw, at the top of the staircase, something faint. It looked like something was moving across the very top of the staircase. As I looked more closely, I noticed it was a hand, from someone who was descending the stair.

Shocked, i noticed something else, suddenly the entire room had become hushed, and as I averted my eyes from the figure, walking down the stairs, saw that everyone else had raised there’s. The whole room looked up at the scene.

AS the figure descended, two other people, a man and a women, painted all over their bodies with blue and green paint, in spirals and symbols, mimicking those of the mosaics and floors before. They moved to the center, where the staircase ended, and in loud and powerful voices began to speak.

Their mystical voices boomed acrossed the palace, in a language I could not understand. However, the deep and powerful language sounded like this: “Pal cementerio se va. La vaca de mala leche. Pal cementerio se va. Inocente condenada. Pal cementerio se va. La vaca de mala leche. Pal cementerio se va. Ni dios le va a perdonar. Bailemos todos el vacaloca. Ese ritmo terminal. Bailemos todos el vacaloca. Bailemos todos hasta el final…”

As I watched the two, I realized these must have been riders and to see them uncloaked was a ceremony of its own.

To the corner of my eye, I also saw Carlos, at the front of the stage, next to a smiling Jose. He, however, unlike the mob, did not stare at the two, but up at the travelling hand, his eyes, with the same listless eyes.

Then the entire crowd mumbled a response which resonated across the entire palace like thunder. And finally, as this sound echoed away, I saw the figure from the stairs finally emerge.

It was a woman, of a medium height, with short cut, brown hair. She was so far away, but I could still see her, with almost perfect detail, somehow.

She had eyes, green and brown in the center, like moss on old stones, and was smiling a smile which sounded like the calm of a well tuned violin, or soft breezes. And on her forehead, she wore a single dot.

She smiled at the entire crowd, her cheeks well defined by the shadows the flickering flame light created. She stood there for a minute, then breathed heavily, and spoke out with a high voice and slight laugh, as if she had made clear happiness in a voice, “Hello.”

There was absolute silence, as the voice echoed around the room, and her gaze passed over the palace. However, for an instant I felt that her gaze had met my own. Our eyes met and I was shocked by how they reached me from a far.

And I knew, as I held that brass key in my pocket, she knew it all. And this was the fated, the only one who lived within the city of dreams.

The priestess of Celephais.

Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Riders of Celephais

       

        As we walked out the rectangular crevice, the light dazzled and blinded us. As I took a final step, I gripped the edge of the aperture, and could feel freedom, within my grasp. With a final pull, I tugged, and emerged from the perfectly geometrical hole, leading out of the wall.

        Freedom! It was this and nothing more. What hit me first was the full brilliance of the sun, which glowed so strong, now that I was fully exposed, that I was forced to look away.

        Then, fully immersed in the warmth of the light, I opened my eyelids and beheld the scene in front of me. On the outside, we were suddenly met by the same grey, the same lack of color and life. I had already forgotten that the entire city was within a valley of no man’s land.

        Just a few paces ahead of me, the first lines of barbed wire and trenches began. However, the entire set of defenses was empty, void of any soldier.

        I was disillusioned, but not deterred. It was still our chance. We could be free, all we needed was to pass these few obstacles. I jumped from the small step, to which the secret escape had led.

        I landed softly on the ground below, just as I realized my grave mistake. I sunk, almost to my knees in the brown mud. I was completely splattered, the drops having sprayed all over my torn soldier uniform. I looked up to see Naomi, the first to have followed into the doorway, watching me. The exit was only elevated a few feet from the ground.

        “Don’t jump down!” I called up, as soon as I saw her, “You’ll get stuck.”

        “I can see that.” She answered, giggling a little bit.

        I dragged out my leg, exerting all my force. After tugging ferociously at it, I managed to set it loose. I stepped on the mud ahead and tried to lift out my other leg, only to find I had sunk my freed leg yet again. This would take some time. We would have no choice but to slug our way through. It would take time, but it could be done.

        I motioned to Naomi for her to come down anyway.

        She hesitated, “What? Are you sure?”

        “We don’t have a choice.” I answered.

        She looked back, into the secret doorway, then down again at my predicament. I took a few steps to be out of her way, then motioned again.

        “Come one! It’s okay. It’s just a little mud.”

        Finally convinced, she jumped off the ledge and, with the same effect, sunk into the muddy ground.

        Isabelle and Puk emerged afterwards, from the doorway, looking over me and Naomi, as we forced our way through the muck. They looked doubtful, but then jumped into the grime as well.

        Having now the entire group with me, I began to push for the first barbed wire. As I could see, there were just about 3 lines and one trench, yet all were considerably old and unkempt.  It would not be difficult to find a crevice and bridge. Not only this, but just beyond lay a short, rolling ridge, from which the other side was covered. If they could get to the other side of this ridge, they would be free. They would out of sight and escape afterwards would only be a matter of finding the way east, which I could certainly do. Upon seeing this, I pushed even more fervently, now convinced that escape was only a few paces away. The warm morning sun shone just over the ridge and warmed me. Nothing could stop us from getting out of here, once and for all.

        We shimmied up to the first barbed wire line. There were various open holes, from which we could easily fit. As soon as I had reached the hole, I turned to see how my companions had come along. They were spread out, and quite a way back. The closest was Naomi, who was still quite a ways away. Puk was helping Isabelle, far off, who was having trouble, because of her shorter legs.

        I looked to Naomi, and motioned to her, showing her exactly where I was passing through the barbed wire. “Here!” I called out, pointing at the hole I was about to pass through.

        She nodded, and I continued, through the small gap.

        I was surprised by how easy this all was. I had, at least, expected to find guards, watching, making sure no one escaped the confines of their warlike prison. However, there was not a soul to be seen, not a guard covered the area around the walls, unlike at the entrance, where we had come through.

        It must have been due to lack of maintenance of these defenses. The mud was simply too much too clean, and the area too hard to constantly have under watch. Besides, why monitor such a specific part of the wall exterior? However, while the ground floor was surely void of witnesses, wouldn't the wall at least have some sort of watch, especially near a military complex?

        I reached a deep trench, filled to the brim with even more stench driven mud, at the bottom. Down, only a few paces away, I could see the means for a proper crossing. A single wooden plank had been positioned across the dug in moat. I approached it and found it was slender, and a tad rotten, but upon standing on it, I found it did not break.

        I smiled from our fortune, and then turned to make sure everyone still followed. They were even farther away than before. I waited, realizing it was best I showed where crossing the depth was favorable. I stood there, feeling rather uncomfortable, looking up into the sky, trying to decipher whether or not it might rain. The sky was completely clear. The blazing sun still gently glazed the ridge ahead. It had felt like eons since we had started trudging through the mud; however, the sun had not moved at all. It was such busy work.

        I then looked back at the wall, thinking to find if any guards were in fact up above, just about to spot our escape. What did strike me though was how little we had really advanced. The wall was still within short reach. From where I stood however, I could not make out any guards, monitoring the expanse we were crossing.

        I sighed in relief; at least this was still not a concern. It was a while until the others finally joined me. Naomi first, she gave a look of exhaustion as to our escape, and Puk afterwards, who dryly mumbled, “Are we there yet?”

        Isabelle panted, over-exerted from the work, and sat down, uncaring as to the moisture, surely seeping into her clothes.

        We stood there, me watching the rest, as my companions let their muscles rest from wrestling against the stubborn earth, which apparently did not want to let us leave. We had been standing, panting wordlessly for quite some time, when I addressed them all, saying, “Come on, we need to keep going, but we will be there soon, it’s just…”

        I paused, realizing the empty look I was receiving. All three were looking off, behind me, staring at something, almost in fear. Their gaze twitched, as if the most terrifying thing was standing just behind me.

        I turned, almost horrified to see what had attracted their attention. The sun blazed on my corneas, but just barely I could make out the contour of the figures, up against the sun. Up on the ridge we had so slowly advanced towards, I could see the silhouette of several mounted figures. They rode, quite calmly in the distance, the morning sun shining just beyond them, a magnificent perfect yellow background.

        I was instantly struck by fear. We had been found, our escape was over. These riders would easily catch us and take us back inside. It was over.

        However, then as my eyes adjusted, I began to examine what I saw. These were no ordinary riders. For one, as they rode past, I could barely see that they were dressed in long cloaks, drifting far behind them. They could not be soldiers.

        They suddenly stopped their galloping, completely stopping at the same latitude as we were, just above the mud, on the small ridge. Clearly they had seen us and had stopped to make sure their eyes had not deceived them. Our escape was now surely doomed. However, I felt no fear, for as I looked harder and harder at one of the many riders, at a distance, I began to see that one was in fact a woman with moderately long hair. And as the sun finally rose to a point where its radiance did not blackened everything in front of it, I finally managed to distinguish the face of this mysterious rider.

        It was Sofia!

        She sat on her horse, as casually as before, nonchalantly observing the small figures, wading through the mud. They had found us! Such a miracle!

        I immediately turned to my comrades in excitement, who themselves were still perplexed by fear of captivity. I smiled at them all and in an enthusiastic voice repeated, “It’s Sofia!”

        They looked at me, flabbergasted, especially Puk and Isabelle, who had no way of knowing who those people even were.

        “Who?” Isabelle asked, still sitting on the muddy floor.

        “Sofia! Sofia! Sofia!” I jumped up and down, spraying mud all over the remaining dry clothes I wore.

I turned back to the riders, above, and began to wave my arms up and down incessantly, hoping to summon their attention. I continued to jump up and down, and with a mighty voice began to call out, “Over here! Over here!”

        I think they must have seen me, as the riders began to oddly direct themselves and I could faintly tell, utter some words to one another. I even think I made out the suddenly smile of Sofia, from across the field of mud.

        Whether they saw me or not, I did attract some attention. Suddenly, almost as if the wailing of hell itself, I heard the unyielding din of alarms behind me. It was the wailing of warnings, which vibrated off the massive wall and drenched the entirety of the fields we had just crossed. The alarms, sounding like crying cats, blasted the place with intolerable noise. I was immediately startled, and literally jumped to the ground with fright, covering my ears in the process.

        Puk, who had done something similar, suddenly lay in fetal position, her hands over her ears, next to me. “WHAT IS GOING ON!?” she asked, over the noise.

        I called back, “I don’t know!!” before standing up again.

        Apprehensively, I looked towards where the alarms had originated and saw that the wall, was now covered in nearly hundreds of soldiers. On the side of the wall, small portholes had begun to open, and I could see the looming barrels of artillery, whimsically pointed towards us.

        I panicked, immediately grabbing hold of Puk and trying to pull her to follow. She tactlessly rose to her feet. I did the same with Naomi, and then with an interrupted scream, pointed towards the riders, on the ridge. “WE NEED TO GO NOW!”

        As if on cue with my desperation, the thunderous sound of opening fire cut me off. I flinched, almost dropping to the ground again, and holding my hands over my head.

        I heard a whizzing in the air, and then a tremendous crash, as whoever had shot, missed. I did not wait afterwards. I pushed everyone forward, across the trench, now well agitated to make it through the swampy deathtrap.

        We had quickly made it across the board, but were instantly cut by even more mud. Even on the other side of the trench, with much greater passion for escape, we did not go any faster through the muddy field.

        Another blast of thunder cut through the alarm’s noise. We all flinched, and then we felt the earth shake. I looked up, wondering where the shot had landed, and then saw the true matter of things.

        The shot had crashed into the ground, just above, on the small ridge, where the riders and Sofia, had suddenly scrambled. They dashed into sudden action, all galloping as fast as possible toward us. They had been firing at them, not us.

        I looked back at the wall, and now saw nearly every soldier on the parapets, aiming a rifle at the fields below. Wherever they were aiming, they were not hitting the target. I pushed forward, my desperation churning mud up and about me, covering what little clean inches of my clothes remained. Behind I could hear the panting of everyone following, plus the shuddering of three more blasts of artillery.

        One such piece fell so close, it sprang mud high into the air, spraying me and many of the riders, he raced towards us. However, not a single shot had reached its mark. And it never would.

        As the third shot of artillery jolted the dirt, the first rider reached us, and kneeling down, over his horse, reached out and grabbed Puk’s hand, next to me.

        Puk did not resist, and was jostled up and around, till she was on the horse, an expression of confusion on her face. Then the rider, without delay, suddenly rode off, back up the ridge. Almost immediately and to my relief, Sofia followed afterwards, jumping off her horse all together into the mud. She reached out and pulled Isabelle right out of the mud. Picking her up, she jostled her on to her horse, with little effort. She then assisted Naomi, who had already walked next to the stead, and had put her foot in the stirrup and jumped on, behind Isabelle. Then Sofia, without delay, positioned herself up front, holding firmly to the reins, and rode off, as soon as she could.

        Several other horsemen, their cloaks soaring in the wind, galloped next to me and I began to approach the closest. I heard two consecutive blasts of artillery, one after the other.

        It quickened my pace, now desperately driving through the deep mud, making my way. Finally, with what felt to me like a mighty leap towards a particularly thick hooded rider, I reached out and grabbed an outstretched hand. I grabbed hold, with all my strength.

        My first realization was that the hand I grasped, was in fact, clad in iron, and armor. I reeled from the sudden shock of cold steel, but still did not let go, only intensifying my grasp. I held the limb and then, with a sudden jolt, felt the man pull me up and over. In a movement I still cannot properly visualize, I suddenly found myself, in a whirl of wind, sitting on the back of a grayish horse, sitting behind the rider.

        With a sporadic jolt on the reins, the rider wielded his stead to abruptly turn, columns of mud and dirt rising, with the crash of artillery to either of our flanks. He heaved and pulled, and then, in a dashing fury, the horse, carrying our outstanding weight, set off, towards the ridge, the blazing hot sun, offering us final freedom.

        Finally, with Puk, Naomi and Isabelle riding to our sides, freedom was only moments away. I stopped myself, not willing to jinx our final escape, the gargantuan walls and their captive city, lying behind. Our luck was so elusive, and the ringing and whistling of artillery, alarms and distant shouting men was all too daunting.

        But as the sun warmed wind blasted my skin, the distant din grew dimmer and dimmer, till there were only the mumbled calls of calamity and suffering in the distance.

        An apprehensive feeling of relief overtook me and, in a shake of daring, I looked behind me.

        The wall, the cement monstrosity, was no longer in view, and all that I could see was the retreating column of smoke, ever-vanishing. I sighed, deflating my anxiety, and relaxing in my seat. The unknown rider, in front, whose cloak spilled over in all directions of his mount, fluttered in the blazing wind before us. As I turned my gaze up ahead, I could finally turn my head, with hope to some world outside of this horrid place. The sun, the iridescent orb, signed these promises, the sunrays warmth sinking into my bones.

        The small entourage of horsemen and their guests rose, silently and swiftly, passing through the desolate landscape leading, the realm of MUNtopia, grey and stale. Behind, the initially daunting columns of smoke seemed to grow smaller and smaller in the distance as the smog and air around us seemed to dissipate. We drew noticeably further and further away from the city, at great speed.

        Finally, my eyesight managed to break through the original haze and I managed to spy some of the horizon, toward which we were headed. East, the Promised Land, where I could see, out of the sun’s rising silhouette, mountains of red, glistening peaks. These ranges, which we had seen, riding with Sofia, for what seemed like such a long time ago.

        The land, uneven and distributed, in the shape of rolling hills, distended in front of us, like endless seas of dead blackened ground. However, there was an end to the disheveled landscape. Beyond the skeletons of trees, lay the first veins of grass, not yet poisoned by this noxious land.

        It may have been minutes, or it may have been hours as we sped into steeper and steeper terrain. As the first patches of yellowish golden grass began to surround our steps, I could feel that we had left the dreadful realm of this so hated King Tom and his war. We were on our way to richer kingdoms; ones whose very air wasn’t stinking with rot.

        As if in response, the pace of the entire squadron of riders slowed to a light pace, as if to say that the danger had finally been averted.

        My own rider passed by Puk. and I quickly flashed her a smile. Just in front, Isabelle and Naomi sat, riding with Sofia. We approached them, and my rider, leaning back, his face still concealed by the dark hood, spoke in a calm, deep voice, “The dead lands are behind us now. We are safe, at least for now.”

        I stared back, into the void of the hood, and smiled, in relief, not caring who this man was who addressed me.

        He then turned to Sofia, and with a bit more emotion said, “We really were fortunate. Who knows how much longer before the Tossacks would have caught up with our company. Truly fortunate.”

        Sofia nodded, then turned back to Naomi and me, and with a loud, rather disbelieving voice, began, “I can’t believe we actually got you guys. It’s like… WOW! I mean, I really didn’t think it was going to happen. O, it’s good to see you are okay, by the way.” She then let out a short laugh, under her closed lips.

        “What do you mean ‘wasn't going to happen’?” Naomi asked, perplexed, “Were we really that lost?”

        “Guys!” Sofia answered, almost in a shout, “I mean, you guys were in MUNtopia! Don’t you know how many people manage to escape from there? Not many, that’s how many. You’re lucky, really, you are.”

        I looked towards Sofia, still shocked to see her. “You!” I pointed towards her, “You disappeared and let us get captured. This wouldn’t have happened if you had just stopped those bandits from taking us away.”

        She laughed again, her expression, still unchanged, “I would have, but they were so quick! I mean, one minute we were all just there, and the next, you were gone and I was running away from just about 30 angry bandits!”

        “But how did you find us afterwards?” I asked, still quite confused.

        I looked to the man, sitting in front of me, and to the other riders around us, “And who are all of you?” I added, now addressing the hooded figures all around us.

        There was silence, as all the hooded figures, did not even stir, except the man, in front of me, who turned to look back and speak, “These are the riders of Celephais, sacred horsemen who serve solemnly the ancient city, and no one else.”

        Sofia interjected, “I rode on to our destination, in desperation. I couldn't go back to Lavinia, after I had failed. So instead I rode on, and found the ancient guardians and asked for their help.”

        “Ancient guardians?” Naomi, asked, looking rather confused, and up at one of the still hooded figures.

        “Yes,” continued the man in front of me. “They are the guardians of the most sacred site in all of the Lands of Ecuador. Of the natural beauty and exuberant landscapes, of all the shamans and all ruins, the city of Celephais is most sacred overall.”

        The man paused, redirecting his view over toward the horizon and the nearing mountains, the void created by his hood, almost revealing what looked like the slight silhouette of a face, “The city is a shrine to the past and time. It is, while among the most beautiful land of all, that is the mountains of Ecuador, that the works of the hands of men are most sacred.”

        “I don’t know about most beautiful…” interjected Sofia, “I mean none of you have seen where I come from. And it is pretty spectacular.”

        “But…” she continued, “I do know that the city is the priced, worshipped capital of the tribes of Ecuador. It is so iconic, that no human being touches or lives within the very stones.”

        “None?” I asked.

        ‘There is only one,” cut in Puk.

        I looked towards Puk’s horse for the first time and noticed that her eyes were completely shut. I had forgotten already that Puk was from this so called land of Ecuador. For some reason though, she had shut her eyelids, with a noticeable effort. She was also holding herself, in her arms, almost as if she was terrified of the man sitting on the horse in front of her.

        She stared after she had spoken, and then felt to ask, “Only one? Why?’

        “Yes, of course,” continued Sofia, “Right, okay, there is only one.”

        ‘Who?” Naomi and I asked, this time in unison.

        The man who I was riding with did not turn, but in a somber, dark voice, answered slightly and gently, “Yessss….  There is only one.”

        I questioned this in confusion, in my head. Then, I turned to Puk and in a worried voice, asked, “Puk, what’s the matter? Why do you look so scared?”

        She did not move, or even twitch in response to what I said, but simply continued to hold herself, her eyes slammed shut.

        The man in front of me suddenly spoke again, in the same somber, calm voice, “You should know..” he began, not yet turning around to face me, “…for us, these are holy men. To even look on their bare skin is sin.”

        I stared at the cloaked back of my savior, in confusion, “What do you mean? What do you mean, these?”

        “I mean to say, I am not among them, which is why I can speak. These men around you, they are not of light words, or of near any for that fact. They are the Riders of Celephais, nearly Godlike men among the valleys of Ecuador. They have lived, not within the city, but without, around her walls, in the grasslands surrounding her.”

        “Her?” I asked again.

        The callous inclination in his voice remained, and answered, “The city is like a being, a soul, a God to the people. Every stone, its flesh, every color its blood. And within it lives, the voice, its soul. These ruins, never inhabited, are ancient beyond the measure of memory itself. None know who built it. Except maybe for one.”

        “There is only one.” Puk repeated, still eyes shut.

        “Who?” Naomi and I asked.

        “Only one.” I heard my savior in front of me, whisper, his voice carried by the near frozen wind, which beat us all.

        And then I swore I heard the whisper escape the lips of every other rider to my side.

        I had not looked around to see how the sun had risen gradually and how the landscape had so altered into a vast spectacle. The foothills ahead of us had given way to vast cliffs, rising beneath the next. Yellow, tall grasslands, rose beneath the hooves of our steads. And beating winds, stripping over the vegetation, reeled down mountainsides, in waves, nearly visible from the moving grass in the distance. The mountains, rising ever higher, into a horizon of red and black rock, topped with wind, literally breathed in and out in cold, frozen wind, I could feel, originated from far above frozen lands. And this, the entire land, heartbeats of the mountains, only seen in the beating wind.

        We had made a lot of way, even now that we were galloping slower than before.

        “The riders,” the man in front continued, “live in camps surrounding the city of dreams. They are said to be descendants of the last tribe to live within the city. What is said to be the oldest of clans of Ecuador, and the first to worship the holy city, before and after they abandoned the ruins. Yet, they still live in its shadow, and some select men, still protect the city and do its will.”

        “Can…” Naomi struggled to ask, “Can… the city speak?”

        There was a long pause, as the man considered this question. “More or less,” he finally answered, “In a way. However, there is plenty of time to learn of the city when we arrive.”

        “Yeah guys,” Sofia chipped in, “Just that I came to find help and I came across him, and the guardians. I told them, Lavinia had sent me and that I needed help. Then after some, convincing… of sorts… they came with me.”

        Isabelle finally joined the conversation, asking, “They were so easily willing to come with you to South Tom?”

        “Well,” answered Sofia, “Let’s just say for now, that the Kingdom of Lavinia and Ecuador once shared a deep alliance. That certainly made it easier.”

        I turned to look at the man who I was riding with, and asked the only question that still lay within my head, “So, if you are not one of the riders.. who are you?”

        The man who rode with me, slowly turned his head, and in a far more enthusiastic voice, answered, “O yeah, right, okay, I always forget to introduce myself, I’m just the worst at that. Sometimes it just feels like I’m losing my mind.”

        He momentarily let go of the reigns, our horse, not even noticing, and began to move to remove his own cloak.

        “I’m sorry my hair is all grimy, I’ve been on my horse for days without end.” He finally removed his hood and revealed an old eyed, young faced, man. He was smiling, and reeling from his fairly long, curly hair, which continued to bat his eyes, because of the fierce wind. He had brown, exhausted looking eyes, a slightly darker tint of skin, although not as dark as Puk and crowded, ferocious eyebrows.

        “I am Carlos, Carlos the Fifth, Chief of the Northern tribes of Ecuador. Defender of High Angamarca and the valleys of the River Oyacachi.”

        As he spoke, he avoided meeting my eyes, but instead to the landscape behind me, an expression of emptiness, within his eyelids. His hands were also clad in iron armor as I had seen before.

        “Carlos the Fifth, nice to mee…”

        “Just Carlos is fine.”

        “Carlos, nice to meet you.”

        “As well, Amir. And to you, Naomi,” he turned to Naomi, with a smile and a small wave.

        She answered with the same smile and a gentle, “Hi.”

        “You… you're… the king of Ecuador?” I asked, perplexed by the person I had been riding with all this time.

He looked back at me, and then upwards, as if, this question had always been on his mind, “There is no king of Ecuador. Only those who lead its people and know the ways of the land best. In Ecuador, all are equal and none go hungry. All depend on the land, and all respect the land. We have none who are superior, only those who lead the people.”

“You lead the people?”

“Yeah,” he added, with a smile. "But I'm one of two."

“I arrived at Celephais,” interjected Sofia, “And of course, there were none there, except for the riders, who always pray in front of the abandoned stones. And I desperately tried to speak to them. But the riders, they are not like ordinary people. They are people of silence and prayer. They are always covered and do not even talk, unless within the city walls.

“So,” she continued, “I was lucky when I found Carlos and, let’s just say he managed to convince people to come and rescued you two. Or four… I guess.” she added, before exploding in another fit of laughter.

I barely managed to hear Carlos, whispering, muttering, just over his breath, “Yeah…” The wind blew his brown hair, in single curly chains of hair, over his face.

Then, in a far louder voice, he suddenly declared, nearly jumping right off the horse, “So after infiltrating the charred, dead land of King Tom, dodging various garrison divisions, defeating hordes of soldiers, dodging artillery and rifle fire alike we found you both.”

He quickly glanced to the still hooded men, riding next to us, and then in a calmer, stark voice added, “But… we need to be quick now.”

“Why?” asked Isabelle, who had simply been listening intently.

“You see,” explained Carlos, “The city of dreams is a desolate place all year, and its stones sit desolate, all year long. Except…” he added, after a dramatic pause, “for the day of the sun.”

“What’s that?” I asked, quickly.

“It is our day of worship. The ritual day, during the solstice, where the ancient black gates are opened, and all the tribes of Ecuador, praise the stones and sing to the sun, that passes. Only then, is the city open. The day before, the gates are opened by the riders, who quake and whisper their own prayers, and all the people, move into the holy site. Then the gates are shut, till the following day, where the city, opens, releasing the tribes, and then closes, for the rest of the year.”

Naomi suddenly piped in, her high pitched voice, sending me reeling, after paying such close attention to Carlos’ deep, calm narrative. “Don’t you remember, Amir? Raqem told us!”

“O! Yeah!” I suddenly remembered.

“Well. Just know. If we wish to enter the city. We must enter it at least by sundown.” Carlos continued.

“Then we better get going!” cried Sofia, and with a kick of her heel, sped off, Naomi and Isabelle on board.

The other riders, cloaks flailing in the wind, also sped, black ghosts against the colorful horizons.

Carlos delayed, looking listfully into the distance. We suddenly picked up speed, as kicking as Sofia had. I looked forward, as the wind intensified, before my eyes, beating my hair and eyes with mindless cold. I looked forward at Carlos and mindfully asked, “Is it possible...to get there…I mean?”

Carlos turned back to look at me, his hair slanted towards the wind, almost as if an invisible, airy hand had grabbed hold. “Of cou…” he stopped himself, then continued, “Maybe..”

I looked back at his eyes, filled with some uncertainty. I did not feel it was worth questioning him, instead, searching for a more important question, as his eyes examined my own, and the high, steep landscape reeled past.

“What does it look like?” I asked, instead.

He turned forward, looking towards the fast approaching horizon. His hair, now pointed away from the origin of the wind, looked like a country’s banner. “Wait…a minute.” He answered, his words calm and slow, as he pointed with his gaze.

I look upwards, to the rising heights. They were pyramids of black stone, capacious thrones, and massive carved teeth of some long dead, decayed animal. This was far off, to the end of my view. Leading up this giant cliffs, the rising sun of yellowish grass, led a slope, as glorious as gold, rippling in the wind. It glowed in the sun, now nearly showing noontime. The winds, now many times colder, blew through the valley, in a twist of golden grass feathers. It was all rippling waves, all like melted gold.

“What?” I asked, examining the quite spectacular ascent we were making at such high speeds.

“Wait…” he repeated again, this time, a whisper, almost indistinguishable from the cold gale, pushing through my ears. We had closed up to the riders and now followed, only paces behind, but in complete silence.

The wind itself, felt of faraway places, and ancient memories. The blue sky above, shone in azure calm. The entire scene was beautiful.

Then, out of the corner of one of the distant cliffs, I saw the first grips of some snow stained wonder. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw, rising as we approached, a cone of glimmering white.

It began to rise, between the black rock teeth, the real, glimmering silver spectacle, a massive cone of frozen snow, a mountain, taller than anything around. The king of the mountains. It shimmered in the noon sun, reflecting the light into my eyes, like an early, midday moon.

I smiled, at seeing the spectacle, and couldn't help but remark, “Wow!”

He turned back to me and smiled, “Yeah. I know. It’s my favourite. Aren’t they beautiful?”

“They?” I asked, confused.

He turned back to the scene, “Well, yeah they… look beautiful.”

I looked around, confused as to what he meant, until I followed his eyes, noticing he, by no means, was looking at what I had been amazed by. Following his gaze, and instead, came across, massive, perfectly white, amorphous clouds, rising up, out of the peaks, much in the same way.

Confused, I remarked, “O, I meant I meant the mountain.”

“O,” he commented, turning his gaze just for an instant, before resuming his fanaticism of the clouds. “Yeah, it’s pretty. But I mean. Look at the clouds, they're so beautiful.”

“Hmmmm,” we both sat there, going up and down, on the back of a horse. There was a moment of silence.

“What’s it called?” I asked.

“The clouds? Clouds.”

“O.”

“But the mountain...” he added, after a few minutes, where the wind only babbled to himself, “is called Sanak Tama.”

“What does it mean?”

“Well, I’ve heard many complex explanations and various different interpretations. Most of these stem from the…” he paused to draw in breath, “from some form of condensed water vapor, which has coalesced into an amorphous body of precipitant liquid. However, I like to think of it very differently.”

He paused, as if musing over his own answer, “I think they are so much more than converging masses of liquid, doomed to form a bond with the floor. No, I think they tell us more. Why else would they form such beautiful figurines?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know, you see. But it is something.”

We did not say a word. The massive mountain continued to glow in the brilliant blue dome, above us. We now were nearing the tops of the peaks, and seemed to be aiming for one of the gaps between the two. It almost looked like we were galloping directly towards the immaculate figure of Sanak Tama.

“It means, moonlight.” he added, finally.

I answered, now in a voice which joined the wind, in the breath of the scenery, “You can tell me more about the clouds.”

“Maybe later,” he concluded. “It will take your breath away. The city, I mean. There is no way to describe it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What is this place?”

“This is the mountains of Llanganatis. The oldest tribes of Ecuador worshiped her mountains like Gods, as if each peak had an immortal soul. And just like a ghost from times, ancient even to ancients, like a vessel, an artifact which has always existed, the city of Celephais, was just beneath their shadows. It was like a demon, a perverse spirit, in the forest. None dared come near it. First they feared it. Then they dwelt within it. And not we worship it.”

I did not answer, so he continued, “Just imagine, a massive stone, just a rock with ancient writing, and your father spoke of it, and his father spoke of it, and his father spoke of it, none knowing where it came from. Even the oldest of people, do not know where the city came from. You will see. It is a shadow under the mountain. It takes your breath away.”

And afterwards we rode in silence. We crossed the empty, vast golden fields, upward towards the glowing white pyramid mountain. The winds beat, getting colder and colder as we rode on, crossing slowly, over the slopes, leading closer and closer to the top, where a last sadle, a last ridge, disrupted the view.  The last ridge before a new horizon becomes clear. I watched, as we galloped, with anticipation, now quite clearly moving towards the fantastic white tower, as the clouds which Carlos had watched dissipated, leaving only the pure azure sky.

Then, in one fantastic step, we cleared the last of the slopes and dove into a new valley. Beneath, I first saw, the gleaming entirety of Sanak Tama, a perfect cone, stretching into the sky, with its snow dipping into the valley below. The valley itself was a darker hue, a stained gold. And then, just over the corner of mountain’s arms, I could spy an ancient stain. Here, I suddenly felt where the winds had been leading me towards, the winds which suddenly became like the hands of nefarious ghosts, pulling me.

I saw the shadow of a dark city, just through the corner of my eye. And in the gleaming of black, the city of dreams. I breathed out, amazed at the shimmering sight of the holy city.

The ancient City of Celephais.