IT TOOK HALF a day before Isaiah saw the end of the valley. No oldling – no anybody on the way – and he felt nearly ecstatic to discover the almost Delta-green forest on the other side. More importantly, or at least more essentially, there was water. Fresh water that he bathed in and drank greedily from. According to the map he was now but a few miles away from his destination. He’d thought he’d have the chance to think more on his way. Plan more, make more sense of the things he was supposed to have learned about the strange place during his mountain crossing. But there seemed to be no more time to pause or to get ready, and he guessed perhaps nobody was ever ready for the Parda.
A short hour later he reached a place resembling an open village. The hovels were spread around a vast, spacious area. Small, mostly wooden and with openings rather than doors. The area itself was small too, but probably home to as much as a few hundred souls. Some of them were outside. Most were children and along with a few adults, they sang and played on large drums. Though sounding different from indigenous lips, the words resembled those he’d said out loud from the book. It was a wholesome sound, and made young voices seem deeper than those of northern children. He didn’t get much time to observe any of this, before a small boy spotted him from afar, and as the child pointed in his direction, some others turned too. With this, the song stopped and a muscular, shirtless man shouted something at him. It sounded like a question, but realizing Isaiah didn’t understand, he turned towards another man that resembled him. Red, tan skin and stern faces. He’d imagined at least Birdús to be fair and red-haired like the dead Commander, but they resembled Zuras more than anything.
The two men approached him as the rest stayed behind – visibly more frightened by his intrusion. “They could perhaps translate my book.” He first thought but noticing the stern, unwelcoming expressions on their faces as they got closer (not to say, the fact that they had grabbed two spears on the way), got him thinking otherwise. It took no more than two pointy, stone-made spear ends to surround him. Perhaps he could have fled, but his body did no such thing. Humbly, he obliged and got off Indra’s back. They dragged him along with them, discussing with each other as they walked. He tried apologizing, just to find his foreign blabbering had no effect. Finally, they led him to one of the hovels. It seemed big by their standards but was made of straw and birch bark like the rest. As they led him through the entrance, Isaiah flinched as he heard one of them say the word “Wind” in common Araktéan, and then once again, when he saw the oldling. The hovel was made up by one spacious room, and they were sitting at the end of it. Cross-legged on top of a heightened plateau with many colorful cushions (red, yellow, green). Instead of the white rags they’d worn on their last encounter, their body now bore deep, red fabrics. Something was burning close to them, filling the room with a thin, white smoke. In a low voice they said something in Birdú to the armed men, and just as surely, they left their grips off Isaiah’s arms and left.
“Forgive them, they haven’t seen one like you for some time. I explained you’re not all as threatening as you might look.”
“It is… it is you. How did you get here so fast?”
“By going slowly. Do you enjoy the sage?” They asked, nodding towards the burning plant. Isaiah recalled smelling something similar. Remembered it’d been in Tara’s home.
“It’s nice…” He stuttered. “I thought they would kill me.”
“We are peaceful here, but we must sometimes take precautions to maintain our peace. Did you come to ask me something?” They asked, waving him closer.
“I… I want to know about the Parda.” He said.
“The only way to know her is to meet her. But this, you’ve already been told.” He’d suspected this kind of useless reply. As he suppressed a sudden annoyance, the spear men returned – though instead of the spears, they’d brought a wide plate of food. They placed it in front of Wind who gave them an affectionate smile.
“Let us eat first. Then, we might speak and think more gracefully.” Isaiah nodded at this, noticing he was in fact ravenous, and thought the savory meal might get him into better spirits.
As they ate, he did his best to do as Wind did – surprised by how much focus it required of him to eat at such a slow pace. Even if he was half-starved (his last meal had been in the Dunes) and wanted to hurry, so they could perhaps tell him something, he did his best to chew properly, appreciating every piece of the delicious but unfamiliar flavors.
“Hunger is a scary thing north from here.” The oldling remarked, finally having finished the meal.
“For many it is.”
“And for yourself?”
“Sometimes, yes.” Isaiah admitted. “Though, much less than it used to be.” He realized.
“What else is?”
“Not finding my grandfather.” He responded and the oldling nodded, their blind eyes seemingly in some distant thought.
“And the rest of them?” They asked and Isaiah thought for a moment. Had he been somewhere else, he would have thought their questions inappropriate, but he was south of the nameless mountains now. In a very strange place, that seemed to require equally strange conversations.
“I have many more weaknesses than I’d care to have… but I can’t think of anything particular.”
“Maybe a lack of imagination then.” The oldling smiled and thought it didn’t seem to have been a serious suggestion, Isaiah couldn’t help but agree.
“I believe you’re right.”
“Such a weakness will help you here. Not with writing untrue things in empty books, but to lead you to the one you seek.”
“So… you are saying my lack of imagination will help me find my grandfather?” They gestured for him to come closer, bending over the empty plate they’d shared.
“You cannot meet anything in there that you could not imagine.” Isaiah sat back again and took a breath.
“And?” He asked, “What else?”
“The less you know of her, the better. The emptier your mind is, the more she’ll welcome you. The more she will show you.”
“Please – I need…” Isaiah begged, but he wasn’t sure what he needed. Only that it would have to be some unshakable fact that was more than a riddle. Something to make him feel prepared for what was coming. The oldling shook their head.
“She likes to dance.” They stated at last.
“What?”
“That’s why we always play music.” They held their hand up to their long, right ear, listening to the drums from the outside. “Unbelievable.” Isaiah thought.
“I sense you’re displeased. But you asked to know what I knew, when you should question what it is you yourself need to know.”
“Thank you for the food.” Isaiah said, ignoring their implication.
“You have walked a long way in your shadows’ shoes. You’ve felt their heaviness and dangers. Now, it is time you take them off and enter as yourself. This way you might finally reach your true destination.” Their face had a delightful expression now, like someone seeing light for the first time in years, and Isaiah couldn’t help but think they truly were trying to be helpful.
“I will leave the boots then, if you think it matters.” The oldling nodded.
“It is time for us to leave each other again. You’re in a moving state, and it is time for me to have my silence. Two of my eyes will show you a shortcut.”
“Finally something practical,” Isaiah thought. He was fetched by the same men – or eyes as they called them. They pointed him in a direction leading southwest and said “Go.” And so he did, thankful to be leaving well-fed and un-speared at least.
As he rode, he wondered about Wind’s peculiar presence. It’d been many days now since he’d had a normal conversation (if the ones with Devus could even be considered as such). It made him consider whether Mongoya had been serious when suggesting madness ran in their family. If he was trying to save someone from the same corruption he himself had either caught on the way or inherited. For a few lengthy miles he considered this, and only when he arrived did he come to the odd realization that perhaps it did not matter. Many had lost their senses in there, and so, having lost his in advance would only make the quest less of a risk. He’d wondered how he’d recognize the Parda, but the moment he saw it he knew her – perhaps even a few moments before. It looked just the same as any ordinary forest but differed the way a painting might do from a true view. There was no thornbush he’d need to cut his way through. It had a clear opening to a path; So obvious that any bypasser would see it if he knew what he was looking for. He left Indra outside and took his boots off. At last, it was time.