Chapter Four
Following the ravine, the cliffs slowly receded as the jungle took hold. Na’ilah and the others walked behind the warrior, with the leader and the rest of the tribespeople taking a similar path on the other side of the water. At the end of the inlet, they were confronted by a wide waterfall cascading over a steep cliff with stairs cut on either side. Urged to ascend, they found themselves at the base of a river that wound its way from the interior. Thick jungle lay either side, filled with a multitude of bird song and strange animals whooping amidst the trees. The air seemed heavy with moisture, the denseness of the trees somehow not allowing it to escape.
Na’ilah and the others were taken to where two rocky outcrops punched through the jungle on either side of the river. It formed natural gorge, blocked on either side by a dense wall of jungle. Moss and vines covered the rocky outcrops, yet as they got closer, Na’ilah saw ridges and platforms cut into the stone with stairways snaking their way in between. Warriors stood hidden within alcoves, watching them carefully as they approached. They were hard to see, their mud-covered skin barely discernible from the rock, sometimes showing only the whites of their eyes as the strangers passed. Stairwells were cut inside the outpost, and they climbed until reaching a rudimentary swing bridge that crossed the river to the outpost on the other side. Lashed together with thick vines, it, too, was covered with hanging moss. As Na’ilah readied herself to walk across, she looked upriver and saw a vast village of low, pillared buildings with flat roofs cut from stone, spread out across the valley floor. It felt ancient, half consumed by the jungle with great trees growing above, their gnarled roots punching through walls rather than stone being built around. The village centred around the river, with carved jetties filled with long, thin boats made of reed. They had no sails, with those piloting them doing so on their own with a single oar.
A shout from behind urged Na’ilah ahead, so she stepped onto the rudimentary bridge, surprised by how sturdy it felt. The others were encouraged to follow closely behind. Soon, all Na’ilah’s companions and Fa’arloen’s men were suspended on the bridge. When Na’ilah was ten feet from the end, the female leader appeared at the entrance to the second outpost. She stood regarding Na’ilah, clearly unsure what should be done about this unexpected arrival. Trapped, Na’ilah realised the villagers had stopped to stare. They were exposed, put on show. More warriors appeared beyond the outposts, the reed pipes placed to their mouths, their poisoned darts ready to fire.
“Nahn la naeni lak 'ayu dararin,” she said, telling them that she meant them no harm, but by the woman’s confused look, Na’ilah realised the villagers did not understand the ancient desert language of the east. Wondering if that bridge had already been burned by her assault within the ravine, she raised her hands to say they were no threat, then placed her hand to her heart and lowered her head.
“All of you. Bow,” she whispered to Loviisa and anyone else behind her who could hear. One by one, the others followed Na’ilah’s lead. The woman leader looked at them all, then grunted, gesturing for them to continue, though none of the blowpipes were lowered. Led through the second outpost, they were escorted under guard deeper into the village to what seemed like an auditorium. An area of large, flat slabs was surrounded by wide steps cut into the stone. Na’ilah and the others were made to stand in the centre, guarded by warriors with pipes placed at their mouths. Villagers slowly filled the auditorium. Some were afraid of the strangers; others looked curiously on. They whispered amongst each other. Na’ilah could not hear what was said, but soon the leader stood to address her people, and spoke in a language Na’ilah had never heard.
“They seem primitive,” Terttu quietly observed, “but these buildings are intricately designed. Look at the language inscribed on the surface. Have you ever seen anything like it?”
Na’ilah took her gaze away from the leader and looked to the walls and pillars of the auditorium entrance. They were depictions of animals and beasts, faces and shapes from which Na’ilah could discern no meaning.
“It’s everywhere,” she said, also seeing it written on the forward-facing slopes of each auditorium seat. Daring a glance toward the village, she saw every building had its own story to tell, the writing carved over each surface, even those hidden by well-established vines.
“I saw ancient temples similar in Kjat, but these are rudimentary in comparison,” Na’ilah said, remembering the hieroglyphics adorning the great monuments marking Nuhma’an’s palace.
“You think more villages lie scattered around the island?”
Hearing Elsa talk, a nearby guard raised his pipe, a clear threat to remain quiet.
“From the ship, I saw death claim the entire island save this one spot,” Na’ilah whispered. “This may be all they have left.”
Gaining insight into the villagers’ plight, Na’ilah listened closely to the tone of conversation. She felt deep concern, not anger. Discussions were being had, yet she sensed great confusion. Many times, the council fell silent, seemingly unsure what to do. Gestures were made to the island interior, but this was met by more challenged responses. They seemed afraid of something, yet it was clear they were uncertain how to proceed.
Trusting her gut, Na’ilah stepped forward.
“May I speak?”
Knowing they could not understand, she let the tone of her voice convey her meaning. She humbly lowered her head as all were suddenly quiet, surprised by the interruption, yet they seemed curious, for no one looked to stop her.
“Terttu. You have Hallen’s journal?”
Terttu nodded, then slowly took the bound papers from her rucksack and gave it to Na’ilah. Already the appearance of such an item caused a stir, and Na’ilah wondered if they had ever seen words written on parchment before. Daring another step forward, she gestured for the leader to come closer. The guards surrounding her lifted their pipes higher, anxious that their leader should get so close, but Na’ilah kept her movements slow, gently peeling through the pages so the woman could clearly see.
Upon the Great Sea, they had studied every inch of the journal, isolating information they believed related to the five stones that had already been found, leaving only clues to the one that remained. Hallen’s mind was fragmented, no two clues seemed to follow, so it was difficult to know what idea related to another. Yet one page made the woman shout. She pointed to the diagram and called out to her village. Confused, Na’ilah looked at what was drawn. A series of pictograms were sketched as though forming a triangle. Six levels of descending size created the form. Rising from the bottom layer to the peak on each level were two opposing forms. They were drawn in pairs, the larger ones at the bottom, shrinking in size until flattening out at the top. Dissecting each pair was a line. It punched through the top of the triangle into an empty circle. On the lower two levels, other markings were scribbled on either side of the corresponding figures, but they were hard to discern. Cliffs, waterfalls and chasms, surrounded by scratchings of a broken mind.
The leader stared at the journal, then opened her palm and began glancing at the villagers.
“She’s asking if she can show it to her people,” Terttu said. Hoping this would offer some meaning as to what lay on the island, Na’ilah gently placed it in the woman’s palm, hoping she understood just how precious the journal was. The woman took it to each area of the auditorium. Deep conversation grew as the markings were shown, but Na’ilah felt awe, not fear, in the voices rising all around. When the leader returned, there was hope in her eyes, and she respectfully placed the journal back into Na’ilah’s hands.
Calling her guards, she barked an order that sent three of them running from the auditorium. The leader then touched the skin on her arm, pinching some of the mud and rolling it within her fingers. She then took Na’ilah sleeve, lifted it away and began rubbing the mud into Na’ilah’s skin.
“It must act like an ointment,” Loviisa said, as the woman encouraged Na’ilah to expose more of her body. Without undressing, Na’ilah let the woman inspect her as much as she could, before moving to Loviisa and the others. Everything appeared fine until the woman came to one of Fa’arloen’s men, who had a deep cut on his shin.
“I got it during the storm,” the sailor said. “It’s fine. Just needs time to heal.”
A cup of fresh water was brought, along with a small tray of leaves. The wound was cleaned, then she carefully placed several leaves upon the cut. They had a slightly furry texture and seemed to mesh into the skin once they touched the fresh blood. She then coated the wound and the rest of his leg with mud.
Once their exposed cuts had been treated, they were escorted back to the river to where two guards had prepared several reed boats.
“Considering you just slaughtered some of their warriors, they seem awfully eager to help,” Terttu said as they were ushered onto the boats. They were split into pairs, with each boat joined by a warrior, with one of the villagers sitting at the back. Na’ilah was accompanied by their leader, who ordered the convoy into the river. Slowly, they made their way upstream. More villagers had gathered, and soon thousands of souls marked their departure from the river’s edge. Paddling upstream, Na’ilah saw more buildings cut into stone and extending deep into the forest. Steep cliffs rose in the distance and she imagined this to be a protected valley where the villagers knew they were safe. She turned and smiled at the leader, thanking her for what she had done, but caught a look of apprehension in the woman’s eye. Turning to what lay ahead, Na’ilah saw two great cliffs pinching the river together. It marked the end of the village, for no trees grew on the cliff. They stood like lifeless guardians, forcing the river to flow faster in between. The oarsmen pushed through, to where the river widened once more but was bordered by steep banks of dark stone.
After half an hour, they came to a small waterfall that looked to have forged its way through a great archway of stone. It blocked their path, but stairs had been cut into the stone on one side. Skilfully guiding them to a small platform, each oarsman waited for his passengers to alight, then stepped from the reed boat and simply lifted it out of the water. Urged ahead by the leader, Na’ilah and the others ascended the stairs. The river meandered its way further into the jungle, but carved into the other side of the archway was a temple façade. It was covered in the same language they had seen in the village, yet no moss or vines grew on this stone. Stairs led to a room set into the top of the archway, and as Na’ilah followed the leader up the façade, she saw a wide, stone slab completely covered in their language set in the centre of the room.
Realising Na’ilah did not understand what it read, the leader humbly stepped forward and drew her fingers over what looked like large headed creatures at the bottom edge of the table. To Na’ilah, they looked like fish with legs, joined by structured lines. Dividing them was a deeply carved line that she realised scoured its way almost to the centre of the slab.
“The river,” she whispered, looking out of the room to the actual river disappearing beyond the trees. Nothing else could be seen through the canopy save the towering smoking spire in the centre of the island. It dominated the landscape, an ever threatening presence that Na’ilah hoped these people desired to escape. The leader was touching the fish symbols, then patted her chest and pointed to her men.
“Fish. People. Structures,” Na’ilah said, trying to make sense of the markings. Below that were jagged lines, and she wondered if that meant the spires or the sea.
“It’s a story of their people,” Terttu said, coming to Na’ilah’s side. “Look upriver. That must be this temple.”
She pointed to what looked like two figures crouched on the ground. Though crudely drawn, both appeared naked. One had large, pendulous breasts, while the other had an erect penis that almost touched the ground. Both over exaggerated, Na’ilah took that as a sign that fertility and procreation were gifts to be desired.
Yet, held between them, there looked to be a circular form. As the river flowed from the centre, the object the couple held seemed revered, as though whatever power flowed from the island was absorbed within that form.
“Le yáax núup,” the woman said, pointing proudly to the two figures. She then pointed in the direction of the sea, gesturing as though the couple also came from far away.
“Le yáax núup,” Na’ilah repeated, guessing at the meaning of the words. “The Eternals. Safiya. Nuhma’an.”
There was confusion in the leader’s eye.
“Le yáax núup,” she repeated, then gestured that they somehow entered the jungle, their power now within the island. Na’ilah pointed to the depiction of the woman.
“Le yáax núup. Safiya,” she said, then placed her hand upon her own chest. “Safiya. Na’ilah.”
She then placed her hand upon the man.
“Le yáax núup. Nuhma’an.”
The leader’s eyes widened, but Na’ilah turned and gestured toward the sea. “Nuhma’an. Ohrl.”
As well as she could, she copied the leader’s gesture of the couple coming from beyond the sea. She placed her hand over her heart again and pointed to the sea. “Le yáax núup. We are the Eternal couple. We have come to set you free.”
To make it clear, she held her hand up with her index finger raised and pressed it to her chest. She then pointed to the sea with her other hand, raised that finger then placed both fingers upon the correlating depiction of what she believed to be Safiya and Nuhma’an. She looked beyond their figures, following the river to where more inscriptions crossed its path. Seeing something familiar in the design, Na’ilah held out her hand and Terttu intuitively gave her Hallen’s journal. She flipped to the page the woman had singled out and saw that Hallen had drawn an almost exact replica of what was carved across the river at the next junction ahead. A triangular structure made of six levels, yet in Hallen’s drawing only the lower two layers had been filled, whereas the stone tablet showed depictions covering the first five. She showed it to the woman, who suddenly looked afraid.
“Take me there,” Na’ilah said, pointing to herself then the spot on the map. The woman looked shocked that such a request had even been asked, then tried desperately to close Hallen’s journal as though dismissing the entire idea.
“Please,” Na’ilah implored, running her finger over the artifact held by the two figures. She then lifted the pendant holding the Stone of Majid al-Din from her chest and placed it in the centre of the map.
“Le yáax núup.”
Unsure if she was conveying the right meaning, Na’ilah waited while the leader stepped away, clearly afraid of what was being asked. She consulted another warrior, who seemed equally aghast at the request. Terttu stepped forward to examine the map more closely.
“Doesn’t look like they want anyone going past that marker.”
“That’s because death awaits,” Na’ilah said. “Beyond this valley, the Dead consume the island. Here, these people are protected, but by what?”
She looked at the leader, who seemed adamant that no boat would continue upstream. Then a shout came from below, and a woman entered, carrying something wrapped in her arms. She was accompanied by a man carrying a smaller reed boat, not as well made as the ones that had carried Na’ilah and the others to this temple.
“It’s a baby,” Mihja said, peering from the temple to the woman. She looked dazed, clutching the wrapped child to her breast. They appeared to be nearing the river, oblivious to those watching on from above. Seeing the connection Na’ilah had made, the leader stood tall to stop her, then seemed to change her mind. She returned to Na’ilah, took her hand and placed it upon the depiction of the large breasted woman. She then took that hand and placed it on Na’ilah’s belly.
“Le yáax núup,” she whispered. She gestured out to sea, holding out her other hand as though representing Ohrl and placed it over Na’ilah’s hand.
“I’m not pregnant,” Na’ilah quietly said, desperate to understand what was being said. Behind the leader, Mihja made her way closer to the map.
“I think she means life. The power given, or perhaps taken between that couple. It’s not just a child, but the power to bring forth life.”
“Or take it,” Na’ilah realised, seeing a reason why the island was infused by so many dead. She placed her hand upon the leader’s, then looked at the woman preparing to go upstream.
“I must join her,” she said with all the compassion she could muster. Without understanding the words, the leader stepped away, gesturing to her men that they should allow Na’ilah to leave. Na’ilah bowed her thanks, signalling for Loviisa, Terttu, Elsa and Mihja to follow, but as Fa’arloen the rest of the crew also stepped forward, the leader held them back. Pointing to the land beyond the pillars marked in Hallen’s journal, she raised one finger and shook her head, raising another finger by its side.
“Perhaps we should wait for Ohrl,” Loviisa said. “Whatever awaits, she clearly believes it’ll take both of you to reach it.”
Na’ilah looked at the woman carrying her child. Her eyes were full of sorrow, her head lowered as though already in mourning.
“Fa’arloen. If Ohrl comes, keep him in the village until I return,” Na’ilah said, then she turned to the four women that had remained loyal by her side.
“Perhaps only women are allowed through. Either way, let’s go before they change their mind.”