Nárilethál: the Song of the Forgotten One

Teplar System Urth
41

Káril could not stand what he was seeing anymore: he punched one of the Lovers in the back, and stole his axe. Out of all the Lovers were trained for, no one considered an attack from the Mórna’s heir.

‘Go ahead, Lover! Take down his weapon! What are you waiting for!!’ Ánfre shouted.

‘Do you by any chance, beloved Mórna, not trust your son to take it down by himself?’ Káril challenged his mother. ‘What am I even asking: of course you do not. Your eyes look backwards*. Or you have even lost them both by now.’

‘I do not have a son. I have a heir who must fulfill his duty, as I must! For Hwésta’s sake! You are DUMB!!’

The armed Lover left his axe on the floor and tried to kick Káril’s kneecaps. Anqáli, always acute, had been waiting for an opportunity to break free from her ropes, and the axe now was laying next to her. She grabbed its handle, which Káril noticed, and distracted the Lover’s attention while she cut her ties.

‘I am free, and I must tell you something, Káril. I have suffered the same pain as yours, and I escaped it. Now it is you who must break free from her, for you do not need this mother. Leave these people here, we might wish to join the Kerzhád in whatever they have in mind.’

‘I will follow you, Anqáli, but Nepámir will come with us. I’ll carry him and then heal him again. I owe him everything. And I owe to you nothing but a curse, mother: let me be.’

Both ran out into the deck, carrying Nepámir and leaving the Mórna and her Lovers helpless. But what they saw, no one has ever described it properly. Nepámir opened his eyes to a cloud of ash, covering the whole sky, and wanted to not open them again. The island was falling down into pieces, ignited and flying in every direction. The ash had also invaded the air, and Káril could not carry Nepámir anymore. Both fell to the wooden floor, coughing instead of breathing. Anqáli turned her head, and found the horizon covered in the deepest blue she had ever seen. The sea had risen up, and after blinking her eyes, it devoured them.

The demise of Toré had arrived.
Urth was no more.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

*Your eyes look backwards: meaning “you only look after yourself”, playing with the “overseer” meaning of the term Mórna.

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42

What’s the secret water keeps away from our senses? The waves clap against the earth, and return where they came from. We can’t hide from water, in the same way we can’t hide from ourselves.

CHAPTER TWO

43

The sky was painted in wood. He could smell wood in the air. It burned him inside as he breathed Urth burning. Each time a wave took him down, he felt the water was more breathable than the air.

All went dark again

Another wall of water. Now, he couldn’t see the grey column in the distance anymore. He accepted the undeniable.

Darkness

44

Water had grabbed him. He now was a stranger in its realm. A country he used to visit, but from which he had always returned. There was no return possible. He let its wet hands take him, and turn him into yet another body scattered for the water to play with.

A hand grabbed him from his left shoulder, and water directed its voice at him for the first time with a familiar voice.

'Népa!! Nepámir!!! Please answer to me!!

WAKE UP!!!’

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Nepámir opened his eyes and tried to correspond his eyes’ reaction to his mouth’s. However, it wasn’t air that he spat, but water. The familiar gaze turned his face to the dark soil beneath them, and it absorbed the water he kept on thrusting upon it, an enchantment worth of Hwésta. He felt the watery hands on his back, and the water in his mouth turned into deadly dust. At last, he was given a piece of cloth, which he placed over his face to stop the stink and dust invading him.

‘Káril’ he muttered, breathing some air at last. ‘Káril. Kárilo*, brought by Hwésta. What is all this, Káril?’

‘The end of Toré, the end of Matorélik, and most probably, our own end. The island has burnt into ashes, and the sea has covered the whole of it. It’s only us that remain, afloat on what seems to be a piece of ship hull.’

Nepámir could not answer to such terms. He turned his gaze away from Káril, and the only he saw was gray, blue, and the hull Káril had mentioned. He could not even think, until Káril did for him:

‘For some reason, I’m here, alive. I’m not sure how it happened: the sea didn’t cover me, instead I fell through a crack on the deck. You were taken by the way, together with Anqáli. I don’t know if I should hold hope for her: finding you was extraordinary enough. But I just want to… What else can we do but… Look at…’

He couldn’t continue speaking, as tears went climbed his throat to his eyes. Nepámir had grown used to being the vulnerable one, despite his courage, always trusting his family and Káril to solve his doubts and indecision. Now Káril could not stop sobbing, to the point where breathing was even more difficult, which required Nepámir to save his friend from choking in water and ash. Káril had just saved him from that demise.

Nepámir held Káril in his arms, swiped the heir’s tears with his hand and stroke his hair with the other, later returning the cloth Káril had over his face. It was only then that he saved him in turn.

‘The air is changed, but the water seems not. The currents will lead us to land, Káril. At least, that’s the only we can think of now. And that we are capable of saving each other.’

*Káril means “the Beloved” in old Cukish. Kárilo would thus translate to “my beloved”.

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46

Those currents were grabbing them faster and stronger every time. Days and nights were just two colours, the same breeze; salt inside and outside, felt everywhere. No more indigo clothing the night, the sea could not but wear hopeless ash.

‘Káril, tell me what you see’ Nepámir asked.

‘Nothing uncommon, I think’ he replied, confused.

‘Alright. I… saw some green light in the water. Or I got that impression, at least. It’s not the first time I bother you with these hallucinations of mine. Don’t worry.’

‘All good, Népa. I think I believe you, actually: I still see lightning in the distance, I reckon it’s the late Toré, now far away.’

‘Be it real or not, I feel very weak, dear. I don’t know if there’s any way we can fish while keeping the hull’s stability. We barely can bend our knees to drink some salty, dusty water.’

‘Indeed. If that’s Toré I see in the distance, it’s more distant every day and the lightning is less frequent now. We are closer to our doom, whatever it may be.’

Silence fell between both, each one diving into their own thoughts again. Unsuccessfully.

‘Népa, look! A star! The sky is clearing up a bit!!!’

‘The star is getting bigger, Káril. It’s the same colour as the light I saw before!’

‘It’s not getting bigger, it’s falling upon us!!!’

47

Both covered their respective heads with their hands, awaiting nothing good. Shortly, Nepámir realised the only he had felt was a little impact on his foot. He uncovered his face, and nothing was left from the falling star, but a beak and a pair of wings staring at his eyes. A beautiful kiwi.

‘This is uncommon, Népa. Kiwis fly away from us, they don’t make eye contact. Even less appear out of nowhere after a star almost fell over our heads.’

The kiwi squawked towards Káril.

‘Treat it better, Káril, I beg you’ replied Nepámir, both perplex and afraid. The kiwi jumped over his head and stood there, its gaze fixed on Káril’s eyes. Judging.

‘I haven’t, uh, mistreated it! But I won’t be delusional after such an appearance. You can’t see it, but your hairs look white after it stood on top of them. This animal holds a secret very dearly.’

Both went silent for a while, immersed in their own analyses of the situation. The kiwi sassily walked from side to side of the hull in the meanwhile.

‘The star, Káril.’

‘Yes?’

‘The kiwi landed here after the star fell. Kiwis don’t just interact with humans. My hair shines when it touches it. What if the kiwi is the star itself?’

The kiwi jumped to Nepámir’s shoulder and honked at his ear. ‘Ouch, stop that!!’

Káril came up with an answer: ‘I remember, from our time at the morzhán, that life happens not just on land, water or air, but in light too. Few beings have been observed that are of luminous nature, other than moths or mosquitoes, attracted to light, or fireflights, which shine by themselves. Some tales say of shiny beings deep in the ocean, confused with the reflection of stars. But I had never considered that kiwis could be of that kind. Maybe this kiwi is related to light in a higher degree than the others. Or maybe we’re far away enough from our late home that animals change of nature. Whatever it is, this kiwi is too friendly for it to be normal.’

The kiwi repeated its sassy walk and bit Káril’s thigh. Nepámir gave a hint of a smile to Káril’s panicked face: ‘Perhaps not as friendly as smart.’

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‘Indeed, this kiwi seems to understand when we talk. I was think-’

‘Thinking of asking it something? Let’s see if we have thought the same’ Nepámir interrupted and laughed.

Káril extended his hand. The kiwi hesitated for a bit, but resolved to jump over it.

‘Can you take us somewhere safe? Somewhere where we will not perish?’

The kiwi made no moves, its gaze fixed as usual.

‘How do you expect the kiwi to take us somewhere?? I was thinking for it to hunt something for us.’

The kiwi honked towards Nepámir: ‘Alright, little being, sorry for disrespecting you once again, I guess.’

Káril kept a somewhat angry face from Nepámir’s harsh response, and did not reply to him.

‘I get where you come from, Káril. Kiwis have guided our boats and ships since we inhabit the islands. They guided our ancestors to them. But this is not a boat, it’s a piece of a hull of what once was a bo-’

‘Look, Népa. The kiwi is standing next to the water and its reflection is now shining!’

They stared at the kiwi’s reflection for a long moment.

‘What’s going on, Káril??’

‘Like I could tell! My interest and fear of this being grows with every breath I take. Unfortunately, my knowledge is limited.’

‘A skill issue, in these circumstances’ Nepámir replied. Káril gave him a sideye. ‘Please know that you’re insufferable at times, Népa.’

‘Fortunately’, Nepámir laughed.

A growing sound from the depths could then be heard. It sounded similar to that of dolphins.

‘Great, dolphins’ Nepámir sighed. ‘Our doom is nigh. A good omen when sailing, evil bearers for castaways, despite their looks.’

‘So it is said, Népa.’

The two Matoréliker were amazed to see that the dolphins did not make any harm to them, but that they jumped over the water and their fins were not such, but wings instead.

‘They are flying??’

‘Yes they are, Káril. And I am not certain why, but the beauty of it is making me shed some tears. They are not even flying, they are dancing in the air!’

Nepámir cautiously stood up from the hull, standing on his two feet for the first time in days, perhaps weeks. The pain in his knees did not stop him from beholding how the so-called dolphins swinged, twisted and whirled above his head, slowly growing in number and encircling the soace above the broken hull.

‘Káril, stand up! This is marvellous!’

Káril refused, to which Nepámir reacted by clapping his hands rhythmically. The creatures moved to the rhythm.

‘I can’t believe it’, Káril said as he began clapping his hands, following Nepámir’s rhythm. Finally, he stood up next to the Toréi, listening how the dolphins started singing.

Káril then stopped for a bit, laying his head over Nepámir’s shoulder. ‘I am sorry for being annoyed at you before’

‘Me too, Káril. This surely won’t save us, but enlighten our spirit a bit before the end.’ That said, he hugged Káril out of joy.

Soon, the array of different creatures grew in number and diversity. Flying rays and jellyfish, and fish of all kind were moving from water to air. A dim green light could then be seen rising from the water, then into the air.

‘Impossible, Népa. Impossible!! A shining green whale, like the ones on our ships!!! Who could have ever considered them more than a symbol?? Who could even find them?’

The choir of dolphins was joined by the deeper sounds of the massive green whales. Water and air shone in the most beautiful of turquoises.

Nepámir looked down where the kiwi was standing. It was not there anymore, but, as he soon found out, flying with the rest of animals, squawking to them. ‘Is all of this the kiwi’s working? What sort of deity have we been visited by?’

Nepámir grabbed Káril’s arm, as a wall of water began to cover all around the hull. The hull that had provided them shelter was suddenly dragged to the depths, while both of them fainted and lost their vision.

49

Reality is nothing but your own perspective. Search for each truth, find shelter in each certainty. Every world is strange. Every world is yours.

50

‘Welcome to your birthplace.’

Nepámir woke up to the touch of an enormous entity, staring at him with a countenance ten times larger than his. He moved his face to the right, and Káril was next to him, deeply sleeping, and clean from the ash and the dirt carried through the air. He soon realised nothing was under Káril, neither under himself: they were floating on deep blue water, but they could breathe as if it was air that contained them.

‘You are made of water, Nepámir. Why should you worry? Water made you, water raised you and brought you here. The Orchard is undergoing its renewal; the Queendom Underneath is safer for you both.’

The Queendom Underneath. The realm of Vóliok, the Queen Underneath, he thought, in a manner more relaxed than the circumstances would suggest. He felt healed, outside and inside.

The entity now touched Káril, waking him up all of a sudden.

‘Káril! Hello!! Can you hear me??’

‘Yes, hello, Népa. What hap-’

‘Welcome to the Queendom Underneath, Káril’, the entity interrupted him.

‘Wait, I know that voice. Who is there?’

The entity swam upwards so Káril could see her: ‘Yes, we have spoken before.’

Káril moved fast towards Nepámir, astonished at his ability to run over the water depths. He held Nepámir’s hand: ‘I can touch you, Népa. I thought I was dreaming, I’ve heard that voice in my dreams.’

Káril looked up at the entity: ‘I have been told, for long years, that your voice was that of Hwésta. Are you the goddess herself, are you transmitting her voice? Why are we alive in deep water?’

Nepámir caught Káril’s attention and replied in the entity’s stead: ‘Do you not know about the Heart of the Blue? I was surprised they didn’t ever mention it at the morzhán.’

‘Please do tell, friend.’

‘Do not be surprised at his ignorance’ the entity intervened. ‘His family grew so weary of any knowledge of what was beyond their late Mórnate that they even ceased caring about some of the hundreds of deities in this world. Even myself, whom they feared. I am not a messenger nor a voice, but Vóliok, the Queen Underneath, Mother of the Seas and Its Inhabitants. Hwésta had nothing to do with your healing powers, Káril: they emanated from me, as your own life and that of your ancestors.’

‘But you were in my dreams too!’ Káril replied swiftly. ‘How did you never show yourself up in them?’

‘Dreams are nothing but a reflection of your own life. I had no place in your life. Dreams, however, can be manipulated, as the living can, but they are not my realm. Nepámir is more proximate to them than myself.’

‘What do you mean by such words, o Queen?’ Nepámir asked, amidst a storm of confusion.

‘My realm begun before the Orchard even existed. It appeases the rocks, gently or by force. Eventually, I ruled over it, and I became the Mórna* of the sea and its offspring. In the same way I know of your names, as you’re my offspring, I also know of your minds and of your dreams. I have seen yours too, Nepámir, and I have taught you and warned you. The Ancient One is calling you.’

Nepámir suddenly realised hers was the voice he had heard repeatedly in his dreams. He went speechless.

‘Népa, what is going on? What is she speaking about?’

‘A recurrent dream, Káril. She has revealed me about this “Ancient One” and has provided me with words of wisdom.’

'Why haven’t you ever told any of us about that?

‘Calm down, prince. He has not even told all he has seen.’

‘There is… Another dream, certainly. A white horizon, nothing else to be seen, except for a hooded figure, asking me who I am. The dream ends when I ask back.’

‘The Ancient One, Nepámir. A deity, for sure, but one I ignore the identity and purpose of. Their appearance is the most mortal-like of us all, but they have taken care of not revealing themself. Káril displays my own powers, but you can reveal the unknown, as those before you did. Your bonds with Vándel are strong: the Ancient One is trusting you with their mysteries, and you must answer their will.’

*As in, “I oversee”.

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‘Who could Vándel be?’ asked Nepámir.

‘I rule these lands, waters and depths, but there are plenty of caretakers on this Orchard. Some I ignore even the nature and purpose of, like the Ancient One; some, like Vándel, not yet known to your folk. The fun of it relies on how that is his own nature: to unravel, to uncover the unknown. Unknown to you both, indeed, dearly praised on the other end of my realm. The Perák.’

Káril gasped: ‘The Perák, Népa!!! The Hwéstaler used to trade metals with them, now centuries ago. It was said that there, on the other end of the world, its people were as tall as two Matoréliker together and their food sprouted endlessly from the soil. Many of our tools were forged from their hard, shiny metals. As years went by, they put an end to their visits, and no one knows the reason for it, nor has heard of them ever since.’

‘Endless food?’ Nepámir wondered. ‘We could certainly use some of that now. Is there any way we can reach those lands, o Queen?’

‘Of course you can, if that is what you desire. But knowledge has reached me of something you will have in higher esteem. Listen to the words she offers.’

Walking through the immensity of the ocean, a familiar face appeared from behind Vóliok.

‘Anqáli!!!’

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‘How is it possible, Anqáli?’ Nepámir muttered, while their face was covered in tears. The three hugged each other in joy.

‘I reckon there is much to learn yet from the Urçá’ Anqáli replied. ‘If you want an answer, I just don’t know.’

‘But what happened to you all through this time, friend?’ Káril asked. ‘Tell us everything, I beg you.’

‘Well,’ Anqáli begun, ‘the ship, right? Yes. The island exploded, and the water covered us. Then I cannot recall much more, other than ash. I assume the same happened to you both.’

Nepámir and Káril nodded, yet unsure about the exact implications of Anqáli’s words.

‘We were fortunate, in reality. Those who were engulfed by the water survived: the rest were consumed by Toré’s flame. I couldn’t sense any life on the surface.’

Anqáli’s words brought a mix of sadness and confusion to Nepámir’s mind. After a brief pause on Anqáli’s behalf, Nepámir asked: ‘wait, sense life? What do you mean?’

‘I am not quite sure yet, Népa’ Anqáli replied. ‘I didn’t need my eyes to perceive what was happening around me. In fact, my vision has changed. I can’t see anymore as I used to do. I feel you around me and I see what you do, but I’m not doing it with my eyes.’

Káril looked at Nepámir with a worried countenance and said: ‘are you blind, Anqáli?’ Then they waved their hand in front of Anqáli’s face.

‘Oh please, Káril, I know you’re waving your hand. I don’t need eyes for that, I know you well enough.’ Anqáli sticked out their tongue But no, I’m not blind, not really. I’m not entirely sure, it’s more like I’ve discovered another kind of seeing. I can see… Patterns. I need to learn to interpret properly what I see, but it seems like this only happens under the water, and that is how I could get the knowledge I needed at that precise moment. I saw there were many such patterns around me. Some around me, which slowly moved away from me, and several underneath me. Trying to catch those patterns, I dived so deep I started to loose control over my breath and limbs: the I got close enough to grasp one of the patterns, and so I did. And it was an oními!! It took me back to the surface, where, in the midst of the ashen air and for a brief moment, I could see the creature. I could see the island, too: covered in flames and… torn apart.

You might already know that within yourselves, but our homes are no more, friends.’

Nepámir and Káril stared at Anqáli, wordless by the truth they, indeed, knew well enough already.

‘There was no place I could go to. Perhaps anywhere else in Matorélik, but how would I survive to the journey all through the dusty air? And whenever the oními would dive into the ocean, I wouldn’t be able to breathe either. Then I remembered that onímir take their air from the surface before diving, so the desire of survival made me take a decision I’d otherwise never come up with: I should breathe its air instead. I tried to introduce myself into its hole atop of it head, and the oními dived deep and fast to a point where I lost all consciousness.’

‘The same happened to us, friend’ Nepámir interrupted.

‘Yes, because Vóliok sent the same oními to rescue you, per my request.’

Nepámir suddenly was terrified by this new Anqáli. ‘It’s the third time I have to meet you from anew, Anqáli. I just…’

‘We have all changed after this, though. When I recovered my consciousness, after several days according to Vóliok, you both were the first ones I could think of. I asked the Queen to find you, and she sent the oními after you.’

‘What about all the other animals surrounding us?’ Nepámir wondered. ‘Were they also Vóliok’s working?’

‘No, Nepámir. They were not.’ They heard the voice of Vóliok. ‘Someone else called them.’

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