The Tower of Il Serrohe (6 page)

BOOK: The Tower of Il Serrohe
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“‘
I don’t think we need to continue this, sister. There is truly a ring of darkness that only we perceive around this tree. I think we are in the exact center of Valle Abajo. The north edge of the Dream River swamp is as far away as the southern edge.

“‘
The smaller Black Lava Mountains of the west are out of sight because of the west mesa’s rim but are apparently an equal distance from here as the Mountains to the Sky are to the east.

“‘
And we know it is the midway point along the arroyo. The landscape of Teresa’s world, though of a different scale, is much the same. Do you think there is a place like this there? Is this darkness the mark of a portal?


Pia looked around wondering if they were invisible to anyone that might pass by outside the ring of darkness. She looked at Pita. Pita understood.

“‘
Yes, we must try to build a portal of glass, water, and air—’


Pia playfully put her hand over Pita’s mouth. ‘Of course, the air is already here!


They laughed like ten-year-olds and slid down the bank to continue their journey, Pita excitedly voicing their plans to build a portal as soon as their work with the Nohmin was done.”

 

 

ten

 

 


Having no idea what they were doing and whether this would work, they set about gathering materials to build something like a doorway, fitted with a glass pane from top to bottom instead of a door. A large window.


Next, they traveled to the village of the Kastmin, larger people who were good at the building crafts, to order a frame and pour a pane of glass to fit, presumably for a new door. The Kastmin glazer, Adolfo, said a single pane of glass of such size would be fragile and probably wouldn’t stand up to the spring winds.

“‘
Why do you want me to build only a frame and glass in my workshop and not build it in place at your home? Who is going to cut the opening in your wall and install the door? Ladies, you are not making sense—’

“‘
Adolfo, please, why do we have to explain?’ Pita shot back. ‘If you must know, we have a well-meaning cousin, Miguel, who insisted on helping us, but if we let him build it, it will not be fit for a Crotalmin to use. In fact, your window and frame will be placed in a door my father made years ago and has never been used. So, please, just make the window.’

“‘
Miguel will probably break the glass in the process.’

“‘
Nevertheless, that’s what we want. It will actually be for indoor use for a cabinet where we keep our herbs. We can see what we want before we open the door—’

“‘
Ah, my most kind lady, you know we can pour glass for much smaller panes that can be put together in a frame with moldings in as large an overall size as you desire. Surely, small ladies like you realize the strength in several smaller panes together—’

“‘
Adolfo, it is not a matter of strength. It will not need to support any weight. It is a matter of the beauty of a single
large
pane. If you will please just make it as we ask. And don’t forget; work in plenty of air bubbles.’

“‘
But we pride ourselves in a minimum of bubbles—’

“‘
May everything in the Sky and on Earth, strike down this man if he cannot fill a simple order without all this hot air and opinion.

“‘
Say no more, it will be as you wish, but it won’t be cheap.’

“‘
Fine!’


To say Pia and Pita were relieved to complete the rest of the construction themselves would be to say the wind prefers to arrive with no notice while eliciting curses from the mouths of all beings.


Using the light of a nearly full moon, they left the Kastmin village pulling a hand-drawn cart through the arroyo, hauling the frame and the glass pane carefully wrapped in down-filled quilts.


Passing through the ring of darkness, they gingerly placed the frame upright on the bank of the arroyo under the shadows of the tree. With a little awkwardness, they placed the glass in the frame, then tacked on molding that held it in place. Finally, taking a jug of water they had brought along, they threw half its contents against the pane, so it glistened with rivulets of water along its entire length.

“‘
Now what do we do, Pia? Walk through it and cut ourselves to ribbons or just stand here?


Pia didn’t look too sure, but decided she would take the initiative. Grasping her sister’s hand, she took three bold steps toward the glass and stopped. She looked at Pita.

“‘
Yes, Pia, perhaps that would be right. Say a prayer, name Teresa in the prayer, then simply walk through.’


They backtracked, crossed themselves in a manner not unlike the way Teresa had while approaching the altar in the Peralta Catholic Church, silently recited a prayer for guidance and healing power, and advanced courageously—except for their tightly closed eyes.


Within the ring of darkness under the dead cottonwood, the normal powers and laws of the universe did not apply. They had not tried to pass their hands through the glass beforehand, perhaps fearing their doubt would betray success. Only by boldly stepping into the glass was the way of the sisters.


They felt resistance like the thickness of syrup, but charged with the electricity of a thunderbolt.


They passed through the glass.


A flash that ranged the spectrum of visible and invisible light seared through their closed eyelids. The
whap, whap, whap
sound of a million pairs of leather wings took flight. The smell of wet earth, burning wood, and ozone filled their nostrils.


Their outstretched hands bumped against a rough wall that could have scraped their faces.


Opening their eyes they found themselves in the middle of an alfalfa field lit by a blazing noonday sun. Overhead and in front of them, stood a young cottonwood protecting them from the sun’s heat.


They were in Teresa’s Rio Grande Valley.”

 

 

eleven

 

 


The pair looked to their left, right, and behind, and discovered their faces were peeking out of the Portal in the Rio Grande while their bodies were in the turmoil of the Portal. Pita started to step into the Valley when Pia pulled her back.

“‘
What—? Don’t you want to step out into this—’


Pia’s look stopped her cold.

“‘
Oh, you’re right. What if we couldn’t pass back through this side of the Portal? But surely, we could—’


Pia’s look was a mixture of sisterly concern and extreme sibling irritation. She conveyed to Pita that they could not chance being stranded in the Rio Grande Valley on a mere possibility. They had to be certain.

“‘
OK, sister. I will stay here, but what are you going to—’


Pia disappeared back into the billowing darkness of the Portal, partially emerged on the Valle Abajo side, got a firm grip on the framed glass and the half empty jug of water and took them with her through the Portal.


Partially re-emerging on the Rio Grande side, she awkwardly leaned forward and placed the glass pane and jug on the ground in front of the cottonwood tree.


It was at that point she realized the glass had lost its wooden frame when it passed through the Portal. However, the jug was intact.


The sisters did not fully realize that wood, as dead organic matter of the Valle Abajo, was unable to pass through while the pottery jug was pure earth and could pass through still containing the water. Only the living bodies of those special individuals such as Teresa, Pia, and Pita could pass through besides the pure earth, air, fire, and water of both valleys.

Giving her sister a look to stay put, she stepped fully into the sunlight of the valley. She turned around and tried to re-enter the Portal next to her sister, but was met only by the air of the Valley while Pita looked at her, a disembodied face and shoulders floating in the air.

“‘
OK, Pia, you have shown we must use the glass and water to re-enter. But what if it doesn’t work on this side? There is not enough water to drench the glass three more times just to see if it works now and again so we can return to the Valle.’


Pia smiled sheepishly. They would still have to take a chance, but at least it was a good one with their glass and water here when they were ready to return. She reached out and led her sister fully into Teresa’s valley.


Pita stepped out and walked around, marveling with Pia at the texture of this new world.

“‘
I never realized how much detail we missed when we visited this place in our dreams,’ Pita said out loud. ‘The dirt, the roughness of the bark on the tree, the bright sun creating millions of shades of color, light, and shadow.’


Pia drew random patterns in the reddish sand.

“‘
This place is everything our world is, but now I don’t feel like a flea. It seems to not be the giant place we thought. In fact, the West Mesa and mountains to the east seem small in comparison to Valle Abajo.’


Pia stood, pointed to the northeast with a nod, and began walking as Pita followed. They immediately passed through a ring of darkness also surrounding
this
tree just as they had in the corresponding spot in the Valle Abajo.


Coming out of the darkness, they paused, then continued northeast to cross the river on the narrow bridge by the village of Isleta and then travel south to Teresa’s Peralta.


This was the same route they followed in dreams when they flew over. But now, it would be at least a half-day’s walk under an increasingly warm sun.


When the thirsty sisters reached the river, they drank, even though it was the color of pinto bean soup. Refreshed, they crossed the bridge as an Isleta Indian with a burro loaded with fresh ears of corn began crossing from the opposite side.


As the two parties neared each other, the sisters noticed the man became pop-eyed at their approach. He hastily jerked the halter of his burro and pulled the beast back the way he had come and off to the right several paces. He watched, fascinated, as the sisters crossed and headed onto the wagon road running north to Albuquerque and south to Peralta.

“‘
Apparently,’ Pita said to her sister. ‘We are thought to be women of special powers even in this world of logic. This man may believe we are witches instead of curanderas.’


Not wishing to frighten anyone else, they tramped a few paces away from the road among the weeds and willow bushes rather than walking out in the open.


Meanwhile, Teresa, who was headed to the bar ditch along the road through Peralta to empty a tub of gray laundry water, sensed a presence. Looking around, she saw only old Señora Garcia and Señora Sanchez going down the road for lunch at their niece Linda’s house.

“‘
Hello, Teresa, God bless you,’ Señora Garcia called out.

“‘
I can smell fresh green chile stew coming from Linda’s,’ Teresa replied. ‘Have a good lunch!’


She watched as the two old ladies went through Linda’s kitchen door. No, they weren’t giving her the creepy tingle down the back of her neck. Someone or something else was watching, and it wasn’t a neighbor or stranger.


From a row of weeds nearly waist high at the rear of her property a hundred yards away, she heard a rustling, as if a large dog was nosing about for a gopher.”

 

 

twelve

The Sibilant's Story is Interrupted

 

 

As if jerking awake, Don suddenly came alive. “Wait a minute! Who cares about some dog? That Portal place! That’s just like here at the Casita. The darkness… hell, that’s like that
nothingness
by the cottonwood tree as I was driving up!”

He marveled. “So that’s the point of your story? Something strange going on here. Of course, I don’t believe any of that shit you’re ladling out about curandera sisters reaching across different planes of existence. That’s fantasy story bullshit. Still, what happened to me was weird. I’m thinking I was having some kind of post-stress reaction or withdrawal from not drinking in a couple of days—”

The sibilant voice took charge again. “That is part of my point, but you must realize this is no fantasy. There is an intersection of two valleys that exist in this place: one, of a simpler way of life; the other, your own world.


But the peacefulness of the Valle Abajo where Pia and Pita lived is gone. Hard times have come and the residents of that valley are not capable of meeting the challenge. They are willing, but unable to resist the Soreyes—”


Yeah, you mentioned them. So what can these ‘Soreyes’ do to make life miserable for the ‘good people of Valle Abajo’ or whatever you want to call this little pipe dream?”


You would not think it is fantasy if you were to visit there. And it’s only a few steps away. Are you man enough to step into this so-called pipe dream?” the voice asked.


Yeah, and are you full of shit? This is some kind of joke or trick. Do you have something to do with the Bitch Queen Bess, my soon-to-be ex-wife?”


So you
are
afraid. Just try to pass through the Portal. If you must know, Pia and Pita passed through their imported Portal when they returned to the Valle Abajo, proving the common elements of earth, air, water, and fire could pass through in either direction. So you have nothing to lose—”


And nothing to gain but a bloody nose and multiple gash wounds, you sonuvabitch!”


As I said—”


OK, smart-ass, I’ll call your bluff. But you better run fast because if I catch you, I’ll not only kick your ass, I’ll sue it, too.”

There was a pause of several seconds. “Are you always this pleasant?”

Don mumbled something about pompous buttheads, stood up, and looked around, still trying to see who he had been talking to. Nothing. With his luck, it was all an auditory hallucination. More evidence he needed to commit himself to professional counseling.

He sighed, lowering his resistance to the smooth voice. “I’m no fighter; hell, I can’t even do well in a bar fight!”


There is no other hope. Believe me, I don’t have much confidence in you myself from what I’ve seen of you so far.”


Thanks a hell of a lot,’” Don muttered.


Anyway, that’s not my job. I am a being of both worlds and so here I am: sent on an errand by, uh, the elder of the Nohmin. They will be able to tell you the story of the Tower of Il Serrohe.”


Tower of what?”


No more. Pass through the Portal and I will take you to the Place of Homes where the Nohmin live.”


But—”

Out of the darkness, a flurry of leather wings came at his face, and behind him what sounded like a splash of water against glass.

That damned bat! I thought he had left!

Blind in the pitch-dark night, Don covered his face with his hands to avoid bat claws digging into his eyes. He stumbled backwards then braced himself against the wall. He felt dampness for only a moment.

Still off-balance, he fell through the glass but felt like he was falling through a blanket of syrup followed by a blast of numbing electricity. He saw a flash of light ranging the spectrum while a million pairs of leather wings took flight. Again, he tried to dodge the unseen bats, but he had no body to command. His sight was blurred as the smell of wet earth, burning wood, and ozone filled his senses.

 

 

BOOK: The Tower of Il Serrohe
8.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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