There was a rowan tree not far from the Mitzian camp. Its berries had not yet grown for the spring, but birdsong could be heard from its branches even over the din of daily life among the people. Some six thousand tents sprawled out across the dry mountainside on the plateau overlooking a shimmering lake. But this was not home. Not yet.
In the southern direction of the camp stood a tent more elaborate than most others. It was larger, made of fine silks instead of rough wools and linens, and embroidered with golden symbols of magnificent creatures including eagles, deer, bears and more. It had polished wooden posts holding up the fabric, engraved with more practiced lines and shapes than most of the wood throughout the camp. It was one of the few with decorations as well, as unlike others it was important enough for an unrushed construction and dismantling.
Within this tent rested three men: two young and one old. The two young ones reclined on low chairs, still sitting up far enough to appear engaged in conversation while the old one laid on a mattress of his own, his head propped up on a collection of pillows. The old man coughed before uttering his next words.
“God has sent me one last vision,” he said, his voice barely more than a rattling whisper. “Our destination lies further to the south from here. There we will be protected until They command us to build our Beta.”
“I will leave first thing in the morning,” one of the young men said, his dark mustache quivering as he spoke.
The other had begun to open his mouth, but waited for his brother to speak first. “I will go with him.”
“I don’t need help,” snapped the first brother, defensiveness stained with some resentment. “I can do it, don’t worry.”
“And who’s going to carry your things, my lord?” his brother asked, the words my lord venerating the older son rather than spiting him. Neither one noticed their father raise a shaking hand to silence them as their bickering continued.
“I’ll take a horse!”
“And you’ll set up a tent on your own? You’ll start a fire on your own?”
“God will lead me to my destination before nightfall.”
“And on the way back? Or will you be quick enough to make it there and back in a single day?”
“I will!”
“You don’t even know how far it is!”
“My boys,” the old man cried with what little strength he had. “You will both go. Konian,” he said, looking at the older son, “you will lead the way. Mizian,” he turned his head to the younger son, “you will help him in case your journey takes longer than a day. With luck, God will lead you on the right path, but for my sake please cooperate just this once.” He let out a rattling, wheezing breath. “You will also take a servant. Bring Kisha, Ileraza’s daughter. She’ll help with the supplies.”
Konian clenched his jaw and glanced at his brother, displeased with the command but unwilling to defy his father. Mizian simply looked down, not moving his head. They remained quiet for several minutes before their father coughed again. “Now, I must rest. Zartza Hamari to you both.”
Konian left the tent first, with Mizian not wanting to follow him but also not wanting to stay. Finally, after his father’s snoring grew louder, he stepped out into the cool evening air. The people were milling about, engaged in their own conversations and attending to their own duties. The men often wore shabby hand-me-down wool coats, hats and vests with traded linen trousers, and the women wore long linen and silk dresses and head coverings with wool coats. Everywhere was a blur of tans, dirty whites, grays, beiges and blacks, with colors only coming from the flowers poking through the sheet of snow piled on the ground.
The brothers’ tents were across from one another, the space between them forming a small square in front of their father’s tent. They weren’t as grand or marvellous as his, but then, neither were the sons.
The next morning Konian woke up to his brother shouting into his tent.
“It’s past time we left,” Mizian called before leaving. “Where is Kisha? She was supposed to be here by now!”
Konian took some time to fully wake up, then some more to put on his clothes. Unlike most of the rest of their people, Konian and Mizian wore well-kept black wool coats over their gray pants. Their shoes were made of leather and wood unlike the others, who largely wore simple leather or wool ones.
Outside, Mizian was standing next to a stout donkey, holding its lead in one hand while gesticulating with the other while he argued with a young woman. Kisha was fairly short, unlike the brothers but much like the rest of the camp, with a stony complexion that from some angles made her otherwise caramel-colored face look sickly. Her hair was kept in the fashion of their people: tied back and concealed under a headscarf with only a few stray wisps of dark curly hair she hadn’t tamed that morning showing. She wore a long blue dress that fell to her ankles, the usual style for a woman albeit in a color that indicated some level of class.
“Let’s go,” Konian said, interrupting their conversation. Mizian handed the lead to the donkey over to Kisha, who patted the animal’s muzzle and whispered something to it. The brothers met each others’ eyes briefly but said nothing. They never had much to talk about. Konian especially felt he had little in common with his brother, given his penchant for strictness and severity when anyone went against his “rules.” Mizian could never simply enjoy life, Konian believed, rather he was stuck trying to make sure the world around him was to his liking.
The three of them slipped away from the camp without much fanfare, passing the rowan tree as they went. They made their way through the groundsnow, passing ridges and mountains along their path. It was not long before they found a gradually increasing number of pine trees and cedars. The path started to slope downwards in front of them, with one side rising next to it, forming a shelf.
Konian saw light through the trees on the ledge next to them, and he exclaimed to the others. “I’ll look around, see if we’ve found father’s promised land.” Mizian began to sputter, but it was no use. Instead, he stamped his foot and began cursing as his brother climbed up onto the ledge and stepped out of sight among the trees and the light.
Sprawling before Konian was a broad stretch of land expanding in each direction. To the sides, tawny, snow-capped mountains stood as if guarding the contents of the basin, while in the distance he could see a shimmer like water. Under a blanket of snow that reflected the morning light, tall trees stood bare from Konian’s position all the way to the horizon. On the other, a muted but still lively green laid, replete with rolling hills and open grasslands. Occasionally on either side a silvery crack interrupted the scenery, rivers and creeks and lakes. This was it. This was home.
Konian took in the scenery, feeling the springtime sun warming his chilled skin. Even the sun felt different here—warmer, gentler and more full of energy and life. The clouds were scatters of pure white and soft grays, not like the oppressive blanket of fog that lingered over the mountains. It had been almost a year since their people had set up camp in the rocky landscape behind them, and Konian felt as though he had almost forgotten how kind the sun could be. He returned to the others.
“Can we get going now?” Mizian asked, attempting to hide the frustration he felt.
“Not yet,” Konian replied. “You need to see this. We may not get another chance for a while.”
Mizian was more reluctant, but followed his brother and their servant up the incline. When he saw the landscape, even he could not help but feel grateful he had taken this detour with them. Kisha felt similar to how Konian had felt upon first seeing what lay before them. Both she and Mizian silently agreed that this must have been the home that was promised to them, whether or not Ilian, Konian and Mizian’s father, believed it to be.
Mizian pointed to a river that flowed from a mountain to their east before turning and entering the forest before them. The brothers, without consulting their companion, agreed on that location as their destination. They took more time to take in the beautiful, though chilled, view before them before turning away.
They returned to the path, with much exacerbation from Mizian, and continued downwards towards the valley below. The sun moved across the sky above them with rays of light peering through the evergreen foliage above them. They could see birds among the branches, many of which stared back at them. From the woods they could also sense more animals’ eyes on them, some they could see and some they couldn’t. Soon the trees became bare, indicating a change in landscape with the change in tree species. The wood was a dull gray-brown and the trunks were often no wider than Kisha. The ground below them, while still covered in snow, appeared darker now than the dusty soil of the mountains. Now it was rich, the brothers and their servant could tell.
They came to a small river. An ancient, crumbling bridge stretched over the water, with remnants of an old path running from either end. What was interesting was that this bridge looked natural, not constructed. There were no bricks, just a hill of earth with a hole underneath it to allow the water through. It was covered in weeds and snow, with roots protruding from the bottom. The river underneath it was as wide as the brothers’ father’s tent was long, and deep enough for the bed to be obscured in darkness. Konian started toward the bridge, but Mizian stopped him.
“We should keep going this way,” he said, pointing away from the bridge and straight ahead of them. “We should keep going straight ahead.”
“Besides,” Kisha added, “that bridge looks unsafe. If you fall in you’ll catch a cold.”
Konian looked back at them. “There’s open land in this direction. That would be better for our people.”
“Do you know which direction to go once you’re across the bridge or will you just keep going in one direction?” Mizian asked, sounding tired.
“I’ll just follow the path. It must lead somewhere.”
“We need to keep going in a straight line. That way we can easily retrace our steps on the return journey.”
“Mizian’s right.” Kisha had hesitated to say this, half loathing the idea of agreeing with either of them, but less willing to see the son of Ilian get lost, or worse.
“We can find our way back easily. Don’t worry.” Konian continued toward the bridge. He took a few steps onto it before the dirt of the bridge began to crumble off the bottom. He took a few more steps and the dirt bowed underneath his weight. Cracks began to form underneath it. Mizian threw up his hands and exhaled deeply. The cracks grew and the dirt gave way under Konian. He fell in, sinking into the water to his waist. He yelped in shock at the cold and waded out.
Kisha muttered under her breath the words “I told you.”
The sun began to set, and the troupe found a place to set up their camp for the night. Kisha served her purpose without complaint, though she held back her frustration with the brothers as she pitched the tents and started the campfire. Mizian took some salted lamb and bread from the satchel on the donkey they brought and began to cook for the others. After finishing his food he retired to his tent. Konian, whose pants were now damp rather than dripping, went on a walk through the land around the camp, disappearing before returning after the sun had set. Kisha, for her part, meekly tidied up, fed the donkey and sat by the fire. When Konian returned, she left the camp on her own in search of a river to wash in.
She reached a river with a slight, unnoticeable feeling of eyes on her. It was not the wandering eyes of a man, feeling more like the curious gaze of an animal that had noticed her. She removed her dress and stepped into the frigid water, wading in slowly as she grew accustomed to the temperature before submerging her face.
In her isolation, she let out a groan of frustration. It was her lot in life to be a servant, but did her lords have no survival skills of their own? She washed her face as she thought about Konian’s lack of care. He hadn’t carried anything of his own all day and the bickering between him and his brother continued throughout the journey. Mizian, for his part, dampened the mood even more than his brother’s whining after falling into the river. His insistence on following a single straight line was fair, Kisha thought, but she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at how upset he became when either of them asked to stop.
She squeezed the water out of her hair and took a moment to be grateful. There were moments where she was not pestered with instructions. Times like these where she could just look at the stars and take in the colors of the night sky and of nature in general. If the current didn’t carry her away, she would have loved to lie on her back, floating in the water while she stared up at the pale lilac crescent Nesha standing almost motionless overhead. She wanted to stay here for the night and find the brothers in the morning, spending her time alone watching as Nesha’s teal twin Ruka, now withering into a new moon in time for the end of the week, sailed by above her. Without lights around her, the two moons were joined by the Beta Khulatz, a great scar across the night sky that blended the colors of the moons with streaks of gold and silver, casting a soft, ethereal green glow on everything around her.
Mingling among the moons and the Beta were a vast array of stars arranged in clusters and lines Kisha could never keep track of. Pin-pricks of blues, reds, silvers, golds, purples and more sparkled against the deep green backdrop of the night sky. She had overheard her brothers discussing the constellations and their significances, but she had never been able to see the bull, the wolf, the deer or any of the other animals they seemed to be able to draw in the sky. It was just a collection of beautiful colors to her, simply breathtaking and unknowable rather than familiar, worldly shapes.
But sadly for her, she needed to return. She left the water, dried off, pulled her clothes back on, suffering the awkward thick skirts that felt like weights attached to her hips and the rough fabric wrapped tightly around her chest. Once modestly covered again, she returned to the camp.
She returned to her tent immediately, passing Konian without a word. Inside, she changed into her nightgown and laid down on the thin mattress on the ground. Sleep came easily to her exhausted body and mind as she curled between the mattress and the blankets.
Kisha woke up sometime near midnight to the sound of the brothers arguing.
“I saw it!” Konian’s voice sounded shrill with excitement. “It’s leading us that way!”
Mizian’s voice sounded in response. “We can’t trust it. For all we know that animal may be common in this land. Who knows if it really is—”
“Do you think there are many giant deer glowing like the sun in this world?”
“I didn’t see anything.”
“Of course you didn’t.” The arguing paused, then Konian spoke again. “I’m going after it. If I see it isn’t the real one, I’ll come back. Stay here with Kisha.”
Mizian shouted in protest, but it sounded like Konian was already leaving. Kisha poked her head out, not bothering to cover it with her headscarf. “What’s happening?”
Mizian looked at her, then back in the direction of his brother’s departure. “Konian believes he saw a sign from God. Now he has run off into the woods. Lord knows if he’ll be seen again.”
Tired, Kisha told him “go after him, then!” Mizian looked at her, astonished as though she had just said the name of God aloud. This did not last long, as his concern for his brother began to weigh against his need to keep the group going along a single path. “Go on, I’ll keep watch over the camp.”
Mizian stamped his foot and screamed through gritted teeth. “Fine. Stay here. I’ll be back by morning, with or without Konian. If I’m not, go back home.”
Kisha nodded, and Mizian stormed off, grumbling and cursing. His anger could be heard for a while, and even as the night grew old, Kisha could hear a faint voice she suspected was Mizian’s calling for his brother. She had changed back into her day clothes and was sitting by the campfire, tending to it with a stick. She had left her hair uncovered, not expecting the brothers to arrive soon and knowing that she would have ample warning before they could see her in such a state. She laid down on a log beside the fire, staring up into the canopy of the trees above her. She wondered what kinds of trees were here, whether they had names or if they had never been seen before by any of her people.
Through the branches she saw the pale purple light of the smaller moon standing out against the bright green of the Beta. Then she saw the great nebula sink towards the horizon and a pink-orange glow coming from the mountains. Morning had come, and there was no sign of the brothers.
Part of Kisha was relieved, but another part of her dreaded returning home without them. She would likely be held responsible for their disappearance, which would carry heavy consequences. On the other hand, she could disappear too, and there would be nobody to punish her. She might even live out the rest of her life on her own, not needing to dress in a way that the priests had deemed to be modest enough, not needing to serve people who would not last a day without her.
She began to collect the things around the campsite. When she started taking down the tents, however, she realized that she wouldn’t need the brothers’ tents. So, she dismantled only her own and packed the equipment as well as all the food left onto the donkey. She undid the knot where the lead was attached to the branch of a small tree. At that point the sun was creeping over the mountains, and she set off in the direction of the river she had washed in the night before.
Konian followed the glow of the sharp pale light through the trees even after the sound of his brother’s voice melted into the backdrop of nature. He continued running after the sight of the golden stag. It faded quickly, jumping behind a tree, then a bush, then a rock, then over a river. It did not help that he would occasionally slip on a patch of snow or a frozen puddle, making him fall behind further.
The light disappeared entirely, leaving his unadjusted eyes straining to see even the trees around him. Eventually the green light of the sky illuminated the world around him. He had been turning around while his eyes adjusted, so now he had no idea which way he was supposed to go. He tried looking into the sky to figure out what direction he should go, but it was obscured by the dense branches of the trees above him.
So, he chose a direction and followed it, not sure where he was going. He imagined it was south, but he wasn’t sure. His main goal was to try and find the campsite again, but he gave up on this quickly, remembering how large the forest was and how small the campsite was in comparison. His next goal was to find the edge of the forest to get his bearings. From there, he could either find a good spot for his people to build a settlement, or he could figure out where to go in order to return to their current residence. So, he continued in his current direction, adjusting slightly when he got a better glimpse of the direction in which the sun was rising.
Eventually he came across a river cutting across his path. Not seeing a bridge nearby, he followed its course, expecting it to lead to his desired destination. With nothing else to do or distract himself with, he continued walking until he was too tired to go any further. He realized that he had left everything behind him in the camp, and curled up between the roots of a winding linden tree. Having not slept the previous night, sleep came quickly to him.
He was soothed by the sound of running water and the occasional chatter of birds. A wolf howled in the distance, followed by the deep roaring of a deer. There were splashes from the river, which Konian assumed were the sounds of fish jumping out of the water. He could feel eyes on him, but dismissed it as the inquisitive gazes of the animals around him.
Then there were thoughts, thoughts that were not his own. Maybe a better word would be feelings, as he was met with a sensation of curiosity and caution, both without much evident cause. There were no voices, but he could hear soft footsteps around him, quiet breaths that sounded like the rustle of leaves in the wind and finally the sense of someone leaning in close to him. He opened an eye, then both.
In front of him crouched a strange humanoid creature. They had skin the color of dulled bronze with a sheen like finished ceramic, with lighter mottling on the shoulders and a pale belly and chest. Their eyes were big and black and their hair rolled down their back like seafoam. Konian pressed himself against the tree as he tried to back away. He had no idea what this creature could be, but he was scared by how they had crept up on him like this.
He felt that something sudden was about to happen an instant before the creature put their long, thin arms on him and picked him up with a strength he did not expect and a deftness he should have. The creature carried him like a sack of flour toward the river. He tried to protest, but he couldn’t find the words so it came out as nothing more than a nonsensical babble. As the creature was about to place one of their long legs into the water when their foot landed on a plank of transparent light. They ascended onto a glassy staircase as the bank on the other side of the river seemed to stretch further and further away.
The staircase rose above the water and Konian craned his head up as far as he could to see a shimmering structure glowing against the morning sky like a rainbow. The creature holding him carried him through a doorway and the light faded into solid colors: marble floors, twisting branches arching overhead, polished stone walls and glimmering windows on each side of the hallway. They passed more creatures along the way, each looking similar to the one carrying Konian, but with different styles of accessories, hair and with different patterns on their skin.
Eventually Konian was thrown to the ground in a wide, circular room with a rising stone pathway on the opposite wall. In the middle of the pathway stood a tall golden throne seating a glowing, ethereal figure. This figure looked similar to the others in the structure, but they had golden hair that shifted as though buffeted by a strong current. Konian stared at them, mesmerized, before looking around the room at the others. The regal figure and their throne sat above a corridor that housed the only hint of darkness Konian had seen since being carried inside.
Konian finally managed to spurt out a few words. “Who are you?” There was no response. He swallowed and asked a question he thought was more important. “What are you?” Still, there was no response. Instead, the creatures just stared back at him before he felt a question being asked of him. The question was not asked with words, it simply appeared in his mind: a pressing question he felt compelled to answer.
“I am prince Konian.”
The regal figure tilted their head in approval. An image appeared in his mind, an idea he did not have a word for. The regal figure was a monarch. He felt a presence in his mind, searching though his memories until it unearthed one of tales from his people’s scripture. The image of these tales changed in his mind, the creatures within them fading until they had the faces and bodies of the creatures around him. They were fairies.
Konian looked back at them, scared of what else they had done to his mind. That did not matter to him, though. “What do you want with me?”
He saw himself, lying against the tree before the first fairy found him. He then found himself looking through his own mind as though it were a book. He saw himself, arguing with his brother. His brother. Konian had forgotten all about his travelling companions since he had lost his brother.
There was something he needed to do. Apologize, maybe? No, that couldn’t be it. His brother was wrong then. And then, too. Still, the nagging feeling of his own wrongness was being tugged at, apparently by the same presence he had felt before. No. He was right to be upset with his brother, why couldn’t the fairies see that? His brother was always angry for no reason. He was overbearing and couldn’t tolerate anything but his own ideas. He had no faith in Konian, either. Everything Konian wanted to do, Mizian thought he could do better, never understanding that Konian didn’t need his help.
His mind went blank as if a thundering sound was blocking out all thoughts. The fairies were dissatisfied. They were taking Mizian’s side. Konian shouted to them. “I don’t need him. He just holds me back.” The fairies glared back at him. The dark spot below the fairy monarch opened up into a glowing pit, with a moving shape within it.
Konian squinted into the light, wincing at the brightness as though he was looking at the sun itself. He had to look away at last to recover. When he looked back, there was another figure moving towards him, a copper shadow glistening in the light. It had legs like a goat with burnt orange fur, golden wings like those of a giant eagle, a bronze upper body in the shape of a human’s without clothing, and the head of a bull with shining horns twisted forward. It glowed as if on fire.
A single word entered Konian’s mind: cherub.
The monster brandished a curved bronze sword from the air. Konian had nothing. All he could do was dodge when the cherub lunged toward him. “What do you expect me to do?” he cried to the fairy monarch. But this was what he wanted. After all, he didn’t need his brother’s help; he didn’t need anyone’s help. That was what he thought, at least. Now he was not so sure. Still, he could not admit that. He reassured himself, saying he could do this on his own.
Konian continued to dodge and flee, but the cherub did not show any signs of slowing or faltering even as time dragged on. Finally, Konian was backed against the wall. The cherub raised its saber, preparing to strike, and Konian finally accepted defeat. He needed help with this.
A sword appeared in Konian’s hand and the cherub stepped back, lowering its arm and allowing the young man to climb to his feet. Konian took the chance. As soon as he caught his breath, the cherub returned. Konian met its sword with his own, and the blades met with a flash of lightning. He slashed at its body, leaving a cut in its belly. That was when he noticed that it was actually fairly slow.
The cherub was unphased, the cut repaired itself, and it used one arm to smack Konian to the side. He rose up, but it was on him in moments. He deflected its strike with another flash. The impact of the strike sent him stumbling, though, and he landed against the wall again. He dodged the next attack, rolling along the wall without getting the chance to move away from it. The cherub then threw Konian to the ground with one hand and raised its sword to his neck. Konian began praying, assuming this was the end. This was it. He couldn’t do this. His brother was right. If he had just stayed with Mizian and Kisha then he would not be in this situation. If he had simply followed the path they had decided on instead of running off at the sight of the golden stag, he would have been safe.
The cherub pulled its sword away as Konian felt a sense of triumph and satisfaction coming from outside his own mind. The fairy monarch nodded their head. He scrambled to his feet, finding it difficult after being terrified by the thought of an impending death. The cherub retreated to its hole, its footsteps a staccato clicking against the marble floors.
Konian asked the monarch “am I free to go? Is that all?” to which the monarch lifted an arm and pointed to the door through which he was carried. The sword faded from his hand and he left the room, jaw clenched. He needed to find his brother.
He found his way through the winding hallways, somehow knowing which turns to take despite not having paid attention on the way in. He left the castle, descending the stairs to the bank as it faded from sight. The distance between the banks shrank as he approached the ground.
Konian was not sure where to go, but he came to a decision quickly. He looked back up into the sky to orient himself again and headed south toward the open grassland. He looked back one more time but was not able to see anything over the river. With that, he set off.
Mizian cursed at his brother as he stumbled through the snowy forest. He could not see or hear him anymore and was already thinking of giving up. At this point, however, he did not know where he had come from or how to get back to the campsite. He cut off his pursuit and spun around, calling for Kisha. When he didn’t hear any response he kicked at a stump and shouted in frustration. He cursed again.
He tried finding his way back in the dark, but it was no use. After a while, he became sure he was heading in the wrong direction. He kicked again and sat down. He would have to wait until first light before he could find the campsite again. He began collecting sticks and started a small fire. He curled around the heat, close enough to feel warm but far enough to not catch fire himself. He tried closing his eyes and sleeping, but the night dragged on without giving him rest.
Birds sang and wolves howled, the only sign that time was even passing in the darkness beneath the trees. Eventually the light began to pierce the canopy of dense branches and illuminate the ground around Mizian.
His head ached from exhaustion and a lack of sleep, but he stood. Nothing looked familiar to him. He wandered around, keeping an eye on the direction of the sun. He kept walking when he heard footsteps padding around him. He looked around himself, seeing a pack of wolves circling him, their eyes fixed.
“Not many people out in these parts,” one said in a low, raspy voice.
“Are you lost, stranger?” another cooed.
“No weapons, no fire, no tools,” yet another noted, hunger evident in his voice.
“Who are you?” Mizian asked. “How are you able to speak?”
“All animals speak,” the cooing voice replied. “Humans just choose not to listen. Maybe you are one of the special few who do.”
“And who are you?” the one with the raspy voice asked.
“I am prince Mizian. My people sent me and my brother to search these lands for a place to live, but he got lost.”
“Oh, a prince!”
“I beg your pardon, my liege.”
“We have seen your brother, if you want us to lead you.”
“You can? We need to get back to our mission.”
“Of course!” The circle of wolves broke and a pair of them pointed in one direction. Mizian followed them. They walked slowly, trotting around him as if to keep him secure.
“Are you sure he’s this way? We saw the land from the mountains and we were heading towards the open lands beside the forest.”
“We are simply leading you to a river for now. That river will lead to the plains, where you will find him.”
But the forest dragged on, and Mizian began feeling as though he had seen these trees before. He felt his stomach growl.
“He’s hungry,” one of the wolves whispered.
“I’ll bet he’s feeling tired, too.” Their voices were so low it was difficult to make out what they were saying. Finally they reached a river.
Mizian dropped to his knees on the banks and began to drink from the water. The wolves did the same. He sat back while the wolves panted around him. His stomach growled again.
“Are you not hungry?” he asked the wolves.
“We’re saving ourselves for a special meal,” one of them said. “One we haven’t had the chance to eat for years.”
Mizian felt something nagging at him. He felt uncomfortable with the way they were looking at him. He dismissed these thoughts. This was his best chance at finding his brother and getting on with his journey, after all. He looked around, hoping to find a bush or some fruit he could eat from, but there was nothing.
“Are the plains far from here?”
“They are about a half day walk from here, but this river leads to your brother. If you run you might catch him.”
“From there the plains will be easy to find.”
“So run, little prince.”
“Run!”
Mizian was compelled. Their disconcerting tones had made him paranoid enough to ignore his hunger and exhaustion. He followed the river downstream, running in search of Konian. There was a howl from behind him. Soon he heard the crunch of paws beneath snow. A wolf lunged out from the forest, its mouth open as it sailed toward him.
Mizian ducked just in time for the wolf to fly over his head, but it landed on its feet and spun back to face him. He picked up a branch.
“What’s wrong, little prince? Don’t you want to find your brother?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“A tasty meal, a rare meal, has come before us with no protection. How could we resist?”
The wolf leaped toward him, but he managed to use one arm to sweep it off to one side. He looked around. None of the others had reached him yet. He ran along the river, fear now fueling him. The wolves howled again. He picked up a thick tree branch that had fallen in his path and carried it with him, knowing that the wolves would be faster than him.
The river turned slightly, and in the distance he saw a bridge, just like before. Now he could hear the wolves following him, snarling after him. He pushed himself to reach the bridge and hoped it would be like the one Konian had collapsed.
He could hear the wolves gaining on him as he jumped onto the bridge, his momentum nearly pushing him off the other side, but he managed to stay on. The bridge was thin and dirt slid off when he landed on top of it, but he clambered across. He heard a splash underneath him as the ground began to sink. Cracks formed in the dirt, and Mizian lept off onto the other side of the river.
The bridge collapsed under one of the wolves, dropping it into the water where it yelped at the cold and began paddling toward the nearest bank, away from Mizian. Another tried leaping over the newly formed gap, but Mizian used his stick to cut its flight short and send it tumbling down into the river. The ground beneath him was now crumbling, large patches of dirt falling into the water. The wolves on the other side looked as though they were calculating whether they could make it across, eyeing the gap and the stick in Mizian’s hand. Finally, they backed off, muttering curses at him.
Mizian fell to his knees, panting. His mouth was dry, which he fixed by drinking greedily from the water before him. There were still no plants that bore fruit around him, which he realized was because of how early it was into spring. He gave himself time to recover, then remembered his anger at his brother.
It was his fault, after all. If Konian had not run off in search of that golden deer, Mizian would not have run after him. If Mizian had not run after him, he would not have gotten lost. And now he was hopelessly lost. He followed the flow of the river, hoping it would lead him somewhere.
Kisha led the donkey through the woods, still unsure of what she wanted to find. She simply headed south. Her journey took her to the same river she had washed in the night before, which she followed, passing at least two bridges before arriving at a confluence with a wider, stronger river. She returned to one of the bridges, which she was hesitant to cross after seeing Konian fall into the previous day. In the end, she decided to take a chance, walked over it, and did not fall in. She made it to the other side without trouble and continued with her path.
She continued walking, focusing less on the path she was going down and more on the scenery around her. It was eerily beautiful, she thought. Apart from the few animal sounds that pierced the air, it was silent. It was peaceful. She listened to the crunch of her boots in the snow, the songs of birds, some of which she almost understood the meanings of. She could not see the birds singing, nor did she know how to tell birdsongs apart, but she could hear a few that seemed to be welcoming and celebrating the thawing of the snow.
The sun drifted overhead beyond the canopy of trees, with the ground covered in a shifting mottling of light. Near midday, Kisha stopped her march and sat by the river. She wanted more time to take in this beautiful environment. She wanted to know the types of trees, the plants still hidden beneath the snow, the animals that frequented these areas, and more.
There was a giggling sound. Kisha looked around herself but saw nothing. It sounded strange, as if it were half animal, half human. Another call rang through the woods, sounding more like one made by a human child. Kisha stood up, surprised to hear humans in such an apparently remote location so deep in the forest. A twig snapped and Kisha heard footsteps rushing nearby. Everything stopped. And then, she saw a sheep staring at her.
What confused Kisha was not the sheep’s boldness, but the fact that it was only a sheep from the neck up. Beneath the neck it was a human, clad in warm wool clothing. It had tiny horns poking out of where the temples should have been, and its snout was pointed towards her. It blinked its eyes at her, turning its head back and forth as if trying to look at her with both eyes.
Kisha could not think of anything to say. There were stories, of course, even in her own people, of cursed babies being born with monstrous deformities, but it was also said that they never lived long. And yet here one was. Kisha considered them to be around ten years old, judging by the height and body shape. The sheep-eyes simply stared back at her.
“Hello,” Kisha said, the word sounding more like a question than a greeting. The sheep-headed child simply looked back at her. What came from their mouth was not a bleat, as Kisha had expected, but a word that, while foreign to Kisha’s ears, still sounded human enough to mean something. She opened her mouth and closed it, at a loss for what to say. Behind the sheep-child, another child popped out of the thicket. This one was certainly human, Kisha noticed, having a normal face and body under its long dark cloak. This child was young enough that their gender could not be gleaned from their face alone, but the short, uncovered chestnut hair made Kisha assume they were a boy.
Kisha repeated her greeting more confidently. The two children exchanged glances. Then the sheep-headed one raised their hands and began gesticulating in a way that looked strange at first, but Kisha realized that they were trying to tell her something. She paid attention carefully, and understood that they were trying to tell her to stay put. She nodded with an exaggerated motion, hoping they would understand the motion.
The children ran away. They returned some time later, this time with new companions: a woman and her steed. The woman was tall and elegant, with flowing hair the color of dark honey, a face with a warmth and understanding only a mother could have, and a large frame that was emphasized by her position atop her horse.
Kisha then realized that it was not a horse, or at least not entirely. As the woman pulled it to a halt before her, she saw three pairs of legs on one side, hair that glistened like silver under the sun, and a long, snake-like tail that whipped from side to side as it walked. As it came to a stop, it swept its tail around itself and crouched, allowing the woman to slide off. She stared at Kisha, who was at least a head shorter than her, with a look of curiosity and astonishment. She looked back at her horse-creature and began speaking. Surprising Kisha even further, the horse began to speak in her own language.
“She wishes to ask your name.”
Kisha looked back and forth between the horse-creature and the woman and the children. She stuttered and struggled to utter any kind of information. “I am Kisha.” The horse creature made a noise, and the woman looked back at her before speaking again.
“Her name is Dolya. She asks if you are lost and which village you come from.”
“Village?”
“Yes, what village do you come from?”
“I don’t come from any village.” Dolya raised an eyebrow, intrigue apparent in her dark eyes. “I come from a people currently living in the mountains,” she pointed in the direction she believed was north. “We are looking for a land to live in. I was sent with two princes to find such a place, but we got separated.”
“She asks what you mean by ‘separated.’”
“They ran off, leaving me to tend to the camp.”
“And where are you headed?”
Kisha was about to speak but stopped. “I don’t know.”
Dolya placed a hand on her shoulder. “She asks you to accompany her to her home. She will help you figure it out.”
Kisha realized how tired and hungry she was. She had only had dried, hard meat and bread to eat, which she did not find appetizing, so the idea of a fresh meal made her mouth water. She nodded her head and Dolya led her to the horse-creature. She took the lead to her donkey and placed a hand on the creature’s muzzle before whispering to it. “She can also feed your donkey.”
Kisha thanked the woman, letting her lift her onto the horse-creature’s back between the second and third pairs of legs. Dolya got on in front of her, and the creature rose to its hooves. They rode in silence, the horse-creature walking with the donkey trotting beside it. The pair of them appeared to have become friends very quickly, but Kisha was still in disbelief at the sound of an animal speaking directly to her in her own tongue.
Eventually the forest gave way to a small clearing filled with fields of sprouting plants and a small grove at the center. Upon a closer look, Kisha noticed that the trees were thicker than normal, with boughs clutching clay and wood chambers and windows and doors embedded in the trunk like knots. Among the trunks of the trees there were small clay huts with thatched roofs and people milling about.
Like the sheep-headed child, some people had unusual anatomies: some had heads of various animals, some had wings like various birds, some had the skin (hides, furs, scales or feathers) of other animals, and others were barefoot, revealing hooves, talons and paws. Some of the people looked normal, with normal faces, backs, skins and legs, but these were rare. The first thing Kisha thought was that they must have been wearing costumes, but when she asked Dolya, the woman laughed and responded “no, they are born like that.”
Some of the people looked at her with curiosity, a few sniffed in her direction, but none paid her any attention. They stopped at a tall, twisting tree with grayish bark and a red door in the middle. Dolya dismissed the children and ushered Kisha inside, where she saw candles on tables embedded into the walls, wool rugs and windows that allowed sunlight to filter into the small room. There was a seat at one side of the room, which Dolya offered to Kisha. She then sat on a table across the room, took a long, thick stick from beside the wall and whistled. The door was still open, and inside flew a large black raven. Dolya stroked its head and whispered to it, prompting it to turn its head and examine Kisha. She waited for it to speak.
“You say you are a person from the mountains?”
“We aren’t from the mountains, that is simply where we are living temporarily.”
“How many are there?”
“I don’t know.”
Dolya examined her. “You said you don’t know where you are headed. What do you mean by that?”
Kisha ran her fingers across the headscarf covering her hair. “I love my family and friends back in the camp, but the only time I ever feel happy is when I’m alone.” She quickly added “And now, among your people.”
Dolya smiled at her. “Do your people not make you happy?”
Kisha felt a knot form in her stomach. “I don’t know. The princes I was with–”
“If they are anything like the princes we have here, you should not judge your people by their actions alone.” Kisha smiled. “But go on.”
“Among my people I am just a servant. Nothing more. When I’m alone, however, I have what I think is even just a little freedom to dream.”
“Your people make you miserable,” Dolya said, nodding. “It’s okay. Everyone in this village understands what you feel. We–”
There was a crash outside, roaring and screaming. Dolya sighed and laid the raven she was speaking through on the table she was leaning on before taking a long stick of polished wood and stepping outside the door. She turned to Kisha and made the same gesture as the sheep-headed child had used to tell her to stay put.
Outside the window, Kisha saw dancing shadows and light as the roaring continued. The door opened, and a group of children were herded inside. They looked at Kisha in confusion, but were too scared to ask anything of her. She stepped forward toward the door and turned around to face the children.
She had some experience with childcare, having helped her father raise one of her younger brothers after her mother passed away birthing him. She knew that what she needed to do was to calm these children down at this moment. She did not need to know what monster was outside the door, only to know that these children were safe. With the help of the raven, she began soothing the children by speaking in as gentle a voice as she could muster. She began singing a song she had been raised with, a prayer from her people. She did not expect the children to understand the lyrics, but she hoped that the melody would soothe them.
After more roaring, crashing, crunching and breaking, the door behind Kisha opened and Dolya stepped in, leaning on the stick she had taken out. Kisha faltered, but got the children under control again. Then she asked Dolya what happened.
“She got burned. It’s nothing. I don’t need anything.”
“What can I do?”
“Keep watching the children.”
Kisha pursed her lips. “What’s out there?”
The translating raven did not have a word for what Dolya called the threat, so it described the creature in breathless panic. “Large. Heads. Powerful. Fire. Sword.”
Kisha could not picture what the raven was describing. She steeled herself and said “Let me help.”
Dolya looked at her and shook her head. “You’ll be killed.”
“Please, let me do something. I can help.”
Dolya looked at her and hesitantly spoke. She held a spotted white stick in one hand and rubbed a balm onto her burned shoulder. “How fast can you be?”
“I don’t know.”
“You will need to be fast. This creature is fast, so you need to be quiet, too. This,” she handed Kisha the staff she had taken out before, “will protect against the heat and fire. Take its sword.”
Kisha nodded, unsure of how to do any of that or even what she was up against. Still, she felt she needed to do something. She opened the door and slipped out.
Outside the entire village was covered in scorch marks. She gripped the staff tight and stepped into the pathway winding through the village. Footsteps thudded from beyond her line of sight. She hurried towards cover and looked around herself. A group of people were clinging to a hulking figure with glistening golden skin, a chest as broad as an old oak tree, two pairs of legs and arms as thick as Kisha herself, and three heads. In one hand the creature clutched a gleaming sword, which it swung and jabbed wildly at the people on top of it. One by one it caused them to fall to the ground, some squirming in pain, others still.
Kisha took a breath and waited for it to look away and then sprinted to a closer hiding spot. Waiting for it to look away again, she came closer. One of the heads snapped around to look at her, and the rest of the body spun on one foot to face her. The three heads each poked out a forked tongue and drifted closer to her. Kisha did not wait. She tried using the staff to whack one of its heads, but the monster smacked her to the ground in response. She rolled over to see one of its clawed feet coming down fast and scrambled away. She got to her feet and ran as it roared behind her, sending a wave of heat across her back.
She made it to a small hut as the ground behind her caught fire, and slammed the door shut behind her. She looked around, hoping to find something to use as a weapon. The door shattered and one of the heads slithered inside. Kisha stumbled backwards, knocking a sack of flour to the floor. The head exhaled, sending a plume of sparks out. The flour, however, had thrown a plume of fine powder into the air as it fell, and upon contact with the sparks, a burst of fire appeared in the air. Kisha watched as the head hissed and pulled away. She crawled forward, picking up the sack with one arm and reaching into it with another. She stepped through the door and flung a handful of flour at the creature. It turned its heads away, and she took the opportunity to run back toward where she had dropped Dolya’s staff.
She spun and flung more flour into the creature’s eyes, and it recoiled. She gripped the staff in the same hand that held the sack, and she waited. The creature was apparently wise enough not to attack while she had flour in her hands, so she threw the handful at it, feigning desperation. She and the monster began circling each other, the creature apparently too cautious to use its fanged mouth to attack her again.
Kisha began backing up when she was confident she had a fire behind herself. She gripped the staff tightly as she felt burning wood cracking under her shoe, fearing that she would catch fire. Instead, she passed through without even getting singed, but the creature continued stalking toward her. Its heads passed through the fire first, and Kisha took her chance. She flung the entire bag of flour towards it and it hissed in pain and rage. She leapt through the fire, using the staff like a bat and it crashed against one of the heads, which slammed into the one next to it.
She then focused on the arm carrying the sword, wrestling the hand apart while the creature was still disoriented. It was surprisingly easy while it was distracted, so when it finally came to, with two heads featuring bleeding eye sockets, it saw Kisha holding its sword at its middle head.
The sword was heavy, but Kisha used all her strength to not allow it to destabilize her. The creature dropped to all fours before backing away like a threatened cat. It tried to strike at her with one head, the one with both eyes intact, and she sidestepped, bringing the sword down hard onto its neck.
The head came off quickly, and the creature recoiled, howling in a voice that sounded like a mix between a snake and a horse. It stumbled away in pain, crashing into tree trunks and falling to the ground multiple times as it fled. Kisha looked around and saw people stepping out of their homes. There was no cheering as people rushed toward the wounded and dead, completely passing her except to give her a brief word she assumed expressed gratitude. Dolya approached her, holding Kisha’s headscarf in one hand. On her shoulder, the raven spoke.
“She is surprised. She hoped you would be able to take it on, but she assumed you would need help. She finds this impressive.”
Kisha smiled for the first time in what felt like forever, feeling more appreciated than she ever had in her entire life. She took the headscarf in her hand and looked down at it, a growing mix of longing, pride and guilt growing in her heart. Finally, she looked back up at the woman and said “There’s something I must do.”
Konian sat on the riverbank, looking around himself. All he could see was, apart from the forest behind him, wide, sweeping grasslands, rolling hills and the river beside him, flowing into the forest in one direction, and from an unseen origin in the other. Still, he could not help but feel lost. His confrontation with the fairies was still fresh in his mind, with their monster’s eyes haunting him. He sighed, hoping to see his brother again.
In the distance, the tall, snow-capped peaks of the mountains loomed over the valley. That was his eventual destination, though he did not want to leave without meeting up with Mizian again. The sun was setting, and he heard rustling from within the forest.
Out of the woods stumbled Mizian. His normally clean white tunic and black jacket and pants were smeared with dirt across the chest, elbows and knees. He looked haggard, and the fact he had not eaten since before Konian ran away was apparent in his eyes. He panted before his eyes landed on his brother. The pair of them exclaimed each others’ names and rushed to greet one another. They uttered a prayer together through tears of relief, one that they used to greet after time apart.
“I am honestly so happy to see you,” Konian said as they hugged.
“You too.”
“I must say something, though.” Konian pulled away. “I am sorry for running away, and I am sorry for ignoring you.”
“I have to say the same. I shouldn’t have questioned your ability to survive when I could barely do any better!”
The brothers sat on the bank and shared their stories, each forgetting about Kisha in the meantime. They remembered her only when she walked out from the line of trees to their right, leading the donkey behind her. Her face was solemn, yet had a hint of relief, but what the brothers noticed first was her uncovered hair. It shocked them to see any woman being so bold, let alone their servant, but they tried to push this aside as they greeted her. She expressed mild surprise at seeing them alive and well (more or less) in the destination they had planned.
“I am only here to do two things:” she said, handing the reins to Mizian, “to return the donkey and to ask you to tell my family I love them.”
The brothers looked at her, not comprehending what she was saying. Finally Mizian spoke. “Where are our tents?” This prompted a sigh from Kisha.
“Your tents are where you left them. I, however, have found a place to live. I hope you two have done so as well.”
“But you must come back!” Konian sputtered. Then he hesitated. “You–”
“I am just a servant among our people. Here, I can be so much more. I wish you luck.”
“Wait,” Konian said as she began to turn away. “I am sorry for how we have treated you.”
“I am too,” Mizian added. “We have taken you for granted.”
“I appreciate that,” Kisha said as she continued to leave them, “but I can not go back.”
“I know,” Mizian responded. “Best of luck to you. Zartza Hamari.”
Kisha repeated the phrase to them both, leaving Mizian in a mood of both sadness and relief. Konian, however, took longer to come to terms with Kisha’s departure, the dumbfounded look on his face dissipating slowly as she disappeared back among the trees. The brothers saw a glint of light from the woods, but could not be sure of what it was.
The first thing Konian did upon returning home was to go to his father’s tent. Mizian, however, stopped at a kitchen in order to find some much needed food. It was the evening after Kisha had left them, but neither quite knew how to approach her family with the information of her departure. They had agreed to do so together, but they needed to see their father beforehand.
Konian lifted the flap to his father’s tent to find a crowd gathering around the bed. This crowd was made up of priests, distant relatives and the heads of the different tribes that made up their people. When Ilian saw his son, he raised a shaking hand.
“Where…” he coughed. “Where is your brother?” His voice was hoarse and almost inaudible. Konian felt a weight grow inside him, an understanding. He approached, passing through the gathered men.
“He’ll come. He just needs food. We got lost on the way there.”
“Did you… find a… home?”
“Yes, we did. It is as beautiful as we were told it would be.”
“Good.”
Mizian entered the tent. He saw the state their father was in and his face fell.
“The two of you… must lead them there. I… will not be able to go.”
“I understand.”
The others in the tent left and the brothers stepped closer until they were holding their father’s hands. “It is… good to see… you two not… fighting.”
“That’s good.”
“We learned a lot on our journey.”
Story of Keshen 
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