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.