The New World (The Last Delar) (13 page)

Taeau walks into the pen, examining the horses.  He has never seen such finely kept animals in all of his life.  The markings on some of the horses' backsides indicate who their masters are.  After closely looking over most of the horses, he walks away from the herd toward the lone black male.  The horse is still eating, staring beyond the fence.  Taeau feels a strange connection with the outcast creature.  He knows how the horse feels, being different and separated from the herd.  He too has felt isolated and left feeling he belonged somewhere else.

Taeau approaches the black horse, and the animal looks back at him and walks away.  Taeau slowly follows the animal around the edge of the fence.  The horse becomes annoyed and turns aggressively to face Taeau.  He stomps his feet and flashes his marking as a warning.  Taeau stands his ground, glaring into the eyes of the horse.  Taeau starts to feel lightheaded but continues to stare into the soul of the animal.  Time slows through his blurred eyes, and he hears each breath the beast takes through its wet, flaring nostrils.  The horse senses Taeau's glare and rears up, swinging at Taeau with his hooves.  Taeau falls to the ground, never taking his eyes off the creature.  His necklace burns as he continues to stare the horse.  Taeau senses great anger, frustration, and a longing to be free in the black stallion.  The horse becomes more enraged and begins to jump in a circle, kicking his hind legs high in the air showing Taeau his dominance.

The loud noises have disturbed the herd, and they move closer together to protect the young.  The other male horses face Taeau and kick up dirt as a warning to stay away from the mares and their young.  The Enopay, hearing the horses' call, have come to the fence to watch.  They talk among themselves and point at the horses as the chaos increases.  One Enopay has taken out his bow, and grabs an arrow to slay the black horse, but Alo lays his hand on his shoulder to stop him.

The animal approaches Taeau, and with each breath dust expels from its nose like fire.  Taeau's head throbs as the noise of the horse's breathing becomes deafening.  The horse pushes Taeau to his knees with his powerful head, but Taeau continues to stare into his eyes, never breaking their connection.  Taeau knows he must calm himself or be crushed in the beast's rage.  He lets a peace fill his mind and reaches his hand up toward the animal.  The horse tries to bite his hand, but Taeau keeps it steady.  Taeau's heart begins to beat louder and louder.  The rapidly flashing marks on the animal's forehead begin to calm.  Taeau touches the horse's marking and it stops flashing; it glows bright and Taeau's necklace begins to glimmer.  Their hearts begin to beat as one, and Taeau can feel a connection between them as if energy is transferring from his body to the horse.

"Be my companion, dark hair, and I will protect you with my life," Taeau says softly.

Taeau's strength is fading, but he rises to his feet only to stumble forward, losing his grip on the horse.  The horse lowers its head and catches Taeau as he falls.  Taeau looks up at the animal, and with what strength he still has, he tries to mount the creature.  The horse lowers a knee, helping Taeau to his feet and onto his back.  Once on top of the horse, Taeau lies down, hugging his neck.

"I will name you Akima . . . my friend.  My name is Taeau, son of the Meno farmer Dirty Hands." The horse walks around the fence to find a nice spot to graze, and with a mouth full of grass it stares back out toward the horizon, with Taeau falling asleep on his neck.

Having witnessed the union between such a wild horse and Taeau, the Enopay are impressed.  The calming of a horse with just his touch will bring much gossip to the huts of the Enopay tonight.  Leotie turns and walks away, kicking at stones on the ground in anger.  The crowd slowly disappears, and Alo leaves Taeau with his new companion, alone and basking in the early morning sun.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A shadowy figure concealed by black tattered robe strides through a fresh powdering of snow. A satchel is draped over its shoulder.  Dark liquid drips from this satchel, melting the snow with each drop. In the shadow of the White Mountains, the forest hides under the moonlight, fearful and aware of a growing darkness.  This phantom approaches a rocky shore of a mountain lake.  He lifts his hood revealing a matured and dark face. His silver eyes look at the moon that has begun falling behind the mountains.  Standing on the shore, he dips his staff into the still water.  A canoe slowly appears out of the mist that lingers over the water, hiding the far shore.  The nameless youth drops his satchel into the vessel and steps inside the wooden craft.  He lowers his staff into the water, and the canoe begins to glide gently toward the mountains.  He lifts his right hand, and the thick mist that rises from the warm water reveals a path.

The canoe scrapes against the polished stones.  Stepping out of the canoe, the youth quickly swings his satchel over his shoulder and begins to climb a steep, muddy embankment toward a small stream that flows down the mountainside.  As the young man reaches the foot of the mountain, he slides his hood from his head and turns back to the lake.  The moonlight reflects in his eyes as he assures himself he has not been followed.  Once satisfied he is alone, he runs his fingers along the rocky surface of the mountain and finds three lines carved into the stone.  Cutting his finger on a jagged edge, he fills the markings with his blood.  The icy runoff falling beside him parts revealing an entrance into the belly of the mountain.  He sets foot into the cave, and the mountain closes behind him.  Here he begins the long journey back to the chamber that has been his home for nine years.

With only the faint glow of his necklace to guide him through the emptiness of the inner mountain, he comes to an underground stream and steps in.  Wading through the cool gurgling water, he takes a drink from its untouched purity.  He follows the stream until it runs down a small crevice.  Beyond the stream are three openings with engravings over the entrances.  The youth smirks as he looks down into a doorway and sees the skeleton of a foot, long decayed by time.  He sits down and crosses his legs, laying each hand on a knee.  His head sways forward and backward, his lips softly mumbling an ancient chant.  Small pebbles begin to strike the floor around him, and the mountain wall splits into an opening between two of the doorways.  When the wall settles, he walks through the new opening.

Climbing through the chiseled tear he created, he comes to a ledge hanging over a deep mountainous trench.  Its walls rise and fall into the black void of the mountain.  He stands at the edge of the cliff with his necklace glowing pushing against the nothingness before him.  A warming updraft rises from the cavity below his feet.  The light breeze blows his tattered robes that flap noisily in the silence of the mountain. Standing for a short time enjoying the calm of the darkness he steps out into the trench.  His foot lands on rock, invisible to those who were never told it exists.  He comes to the far wall and runs his hand across the stone, searching for a marking.  His hand finds the smooth engraving, and he steps back.  He lowers his staff and places it against the wall.  He whispers an incantation, and a light shines around his staff illuminating a door on the wall.  He lowers his staff, and the wall unnaturally crumbles into pieces by his feet.

A thunderous bellow charges through the mountain as he enters the chamber.  Once inside the cave candles ignite along the walls.  The cave is different now than when he first entered it as a youngling.  Holes have been dug into the ground and are filled with a dark, simmering liquid.  The book that cut his hand and spoke to him sits on a ledge carved from the cave's wall.  The tall, slender youth walks over to the book and drops his satchel.  He releases his staff, but it remains upright next to him, and he places his hand on the book.

"I am back, Master, and I have done all that you have commanded.  I thank you for your wisdom and give an offering of blood as a sign of my gratitude."

Tiny blades from the book's face pierce the flesh of its servant.  The youth lifts his hand from the Ixkin and watches the book open, turning its own pages.

"You have done well."

Bowing to the Ixkin, the youth speaks, "Thank you, Master.  What do you wish of me?"

"You must finish your writings and complete the symbol of the Hhtuno."

"Yes, Master.  It will not be long now."

He picks up a deer-hair brush and a skull bowl lying on the cave's floor.  He dips the bowl into one of the puddles of liquid and walks over to the wall.  The Ixkin floats by his side and its open pages fill with symbols.  He dips his brush into the liquid and begins to inscribe the symbols onto the wall.

After he writes the last symbol from the book, he steps back.

"It is finished, Master . . . I have completed the incantation of the Hhtuno!"

"This is a night of nights, my servant.  You have done well, and it is time that I fulfill what I have promised.  You must leave this cave and become a true Hhtuno.  Tonight, you will feel the power that only a Hhtuno lord possesses, and you will hear your Hhtuno name for the first time."

The young man's heart pounds with excitement, for he has wanted a name for as long as he can remember.  He has been called "slave" and "servant" for too long.

"I am honored, Master."

"Kneel in front of the pool filled with the blood of the Uluani and place the satchel to the North and the staff to the West."

The youth walks to the largest pool on the floor.  The Ixkin slams shut, echoing loudly in the cave.  He winces as he bows his head to the ground.  A wind blows within the cave and extinguishes the chamber candles.  The symbols he has painted on the cave's floor begin to ignite in flame.

"Put your head over the pool,"
he hears the voice of the book echo in his mind.

Without hesitation, he obeys.  A strong wind blows down from above, pushing his face closer to the blood of the Uluani.  His scalp burns, and he watches his long black hair slowly fall into the pool.  Once the last strand of his hair sinks into the liquid, he hears the Ixkin again. 
"Take the satchel and drop the feathers and beak of the Hornbill into the pool."

He does as he is told.  The Ixkin rips a page free from its binding and sends it shooting into the air.  Oskeau's eyes follow the page as it slowly floats down into the bubbling pool at his knees.  When the page touches the liquid, it becomes still.  The cave shakes, and all the pools erupt, expelling a thick vapor.  The smog creates a tornado of darkness around the youth.

"RISE, MY SERVANT, AND READ THE INCANTATION OF THE HHTUNO!"

The dark cloud circles the cave and lifts him to his feet.  He reads the symbols on the wall.  With every word he speaks, the cloud circles faster and louder around him.  A great intoxicating strength begins to well inside him as he continues to read, speaking each word louder than the last.  The billowing smoke continues to rise from the pools circling around him. "Ruck-Ketsa-Ko-A." When the words leave his lips, the dark swirling cloud slams into his chest, driving him into the chamber's wall.  The darkness seeps into his flesh, darkening the color of his skin and turning his eyes to darkness.  He looks down and sees that the feathers from the Hornbill have bound with the cloth of his robs and the beak of the bird with his hood. He looks into one of the reflective pools and sees his changed skin, and he touches his bald scalp.  A laughing sound echoes in the cave, and he turns his black eyes to the Ixkin resting back in its rightful place.  He opens his hand and his staff rises, soaring through the darkness of the cave.  He comes to the book and places his hand on the cover.

"Open me for the first time, not as my servant but as a lord of the Hhtuno.  Open my pages, and look upon your name."

He slowly opens the book and stares in anticipation as the pages shuffle.  He bows to the Ixkin.  "I am ready," he says and he looks down at the page with great excitement.  A black murky ink begins to consume the coarse fibers of the page.

"You are the Lord of the Hhtuno and Master to the Oota-Daboon.  Now read your name aloud and take your place as a true Hhtuno."

He looks at the book, but sees only a page veiled in darkness.  As he stares at the empty page, his heart sinks in disappointment.  His fists begin to clench tightly, and the thick cloud around him swirls violently. A light begins to shine from a far wall.  All of the markings he inscribed on the stone glow and reshape themselves on the wall.

"UN-NABUS," he speaks out loud reading the newly formed writing.

The word reverberates in the cave.  His necklace rises, shining in the dark.  He speaks his name again, and like thunder it roars from his mouth: "UN-NABUS!"

"Now raise your hand and release me."

Un-Nabus drops the Ixkin, and the slowly rising smoke from the pools swirls around the book, engulfing it.  The dark cloud that swallowed the book surrounds his hand and rips into his flesh.  There is a brief sensation of deep cold before the pain is gone.  He lowers his hand and stares at what the darkness has done.  His hand now bears a scarlet mark.