Forebear and Precursor
Chapter 19:
The first sensation I felt was warmth across my face. Although that wasn’t out of place in the city, there was something identifiably different about the cascading gentleness that fell across me from above. It felt natural and unfiltered.
As I gradually oriented to the pull of an unfamiliar force beneath me, I realized I was lying down on my back. Soft, comfortable fabric beneath me supported my body as bright light filtered through my closed eyelids. The sounds of small animals, high-pitched, wild, and unfamiliar erupted all around me at a distance. A medicinal, herbal smell filled the air, mixed with the soft tang of burning incense.
I groaned quietly. Had I died? Was this what it was like to be in the waves of the River? If so, it wasn’t that unpleasant, especially after all the pain I’d experienced recently. My body relaxed into the fabric.
After a few minutes of soaking in the sensations around me, another thought came to mind: was this all there was? This could get boring after a while. A smile crossed my face. Ah well. Couldn’t be helped.
The light continued to tickle at my eyelids, prying rays creeping underneath them to prod my consciousness. At last, I dreamily cracked them open to see where I was. My sight gradually adjusted to the ambient, golden light around me as I stared up at a wooden ceiling. The beams of material above me were constructed from some unknown species, and the grain in them ran in fragmented directions. My eyesight traced their patterns and idly followed the lines to the outline of a roof. And an outside. That was the source of the golden light. A wide opening to the outdoors, like a window, letting in warm, slightly humid air.
My eyes opened fully and took in more of my surroundings. I was in a small pagoda of some sort, laying flat on my back. Beneath me was a divan, covered in a violet silken fabric. The openings from the pagoda to the outside showed a strange nature that I had never seen before.
I slowly pushed myself upward to a sitting position, realizing that I felt none of the fatigue that had dominated my existence for the past ten-rhythms. Looking outside I saw… green plants. Of so many varieties too. Some were populated with needle-like structures, with spiked teal berries poking out of various surfaces. Some were broad-leaved and fully emerald-colored. On some of them, alternately pale and deep violet blooms were shedding petals into a soft breeze. My gaze followed them to the ground, and took in a carpet of strange bladed grass - again colored green - flecked with the shedding of what must have been perihelion violet growth from the trees above.
The sight bewildered me. Not as much as the ocean of sky above that was a much deeper shade of blue than anything I’d ever seen before in my life. In it hung an orb that was wholly unfamiliar to me. Much brighter, fuller, and more golden than the sun that I knew.
I turned to look inside the pagoda, and saw it was lined with shelves and shelves of well-cared for leather-bound books. In the center was an octagonal table, about the height one of the Yin would drink tea at. A small incense burner trailed powerful-smelling lines of smoke upward towards the ceiling from its position atop this table.
In the opposite corner of the pagoda from my bed, a man sat in a wooden rocking chair, his feet kicked up on a resting board that jutted out from under the chair. He was reading a book in an unknown script, lost in thought, turning the page and humming to himself.
The man seemed to be in his forties. A beard, run-through with gray streaks and reaching to his chest, graced his face and made it seem much longer than it was. There was a coiled orange turban on his head, to which a bright teal feather was fastened using a round silver pin. Crows’ feet lapped at the edges of his green eyes, but the rest of his face was free from signs of extreme age. He continued to hum, lost in his book.
I shifted my feet over the edge of the divan, and cleared my throat. The man started slightly, and then smiled.
“Ah good! You’re finally awake.” He said with evident happiness. “Been waiting a while for that.”
I blinked. “Where am I?”
The man closed his book, and set it on a table to his side. He stood up, saffron robes fluttering as he stretched. He appeared to think for a while before he answered. “A different place.” He said finally.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
He laughed.
My eyes drifted around the interior of the pagoda again. “Am I dead?”
“Thankfully not yet. We’d be in a much different place if that were true.”
“Then-”
He held up an open palm. “You are actually in two places at once. Right now, you are in the depths of a prison, held down by chains, body broken, hurt by the one who sent you to your destination. I can’t say much about that place any more than what has been revealed to me - you honestly know more about that place than I do.
“However… I welcome you to this second place. I hope you’ll agree it’s much nicer than the other place you are.”
I breathed in. “What is this place?”
“Somewhere lost to time. A little pocket of the universe far away from pain and misery, out of which some were cast a long time ago, and they have not been able to return.”
“The Forebears?”
He shook his head. “Others. I’m told you’ve met them.”
“The…” realization dawned on me. “The Archivist, the Seeker… The Ancients.”
He nodded. “I don’t recognize the new names they’ve taken, but the impression they left on you is familiar.”
I leaned back against one of the pagoda’s supporting pillars. My eyes closed again, the peace around me suddenly feeling discordant. “I have to return. My friends… My friends need me.”
“There will be a time for that. Things flow differently here compared to the other place. Right now is the time for rest. Maybe a little chat.” He smiled again.
An exhale escaped me. “Fine.” I stood there, breathing in the smells as my concerns melted away into the unreal atmosphere.
After a while, the man interrupted my reverie with encouragement, “There. That should erase some of those stress molecules.”
I opened my eyes. “So who are you?”
The man shrugged. “As you may have guessed, I’m a guide of sorts. Someone put here long ago to make sure that anyone who makes it through the Gate has at least a passing knowledge of what they must do.”
“Alright then, Mr. Guide. How can I help my friends? How can we escape that River-cursed city?” Skepticism dripped out of every sentence of my speech.
“The way to do that is to accept the mantle that you are about to receive. There is no other way.”
My brow furrowed. “What is this mantle exactly?”
“To explain that requires some time, and is best left to table conversation. May I treat you to dinner? My partner is most likely up at the ruins, warming up some meat as we speak.”
I sighed. Then breathed in the calming atmosphere again. After so long being deprived of good food… the offer was beyond tempting. I nodded only half-reluctantly.
“Very good. Let’s take a walk shall we? You won’t get another chance to see this place.”
He turned towards the side and walked out of the pagoda onto a small cobblestone path that led out into the strange wilderness. Sensing no danger, I followed, taking in the strange environment around us as we traveled.
The pagoda and the path that led to it were situated on an embankment that led down towards a gently flowing river. All around us, an eruption of strange green foliage held dominion over the ground, parting only some distance away to give me a view of a far-off expanse of ocean. Mixed in with the sounds of wildlife, the gentle flow of water joined in with the low rumble of distant waves. The clouds in the sky above alternated between offering shade for the ground below, and allowing a flood of warm yellow light to cascade across the flora. The colors overwhelmed me. It was beautiful.
Our journey was silent, somewhat somber, filled with peace. I didn’t have the heart to break the natural rhythm of life around me with my own voice.
We followed the path upward along the embankment to a meadow, where I saw a plethora of flowers blooming among the strange verdant grass. In between them flitted yellow and black fuzzy bugs that buzzed wildly. Over the crest of the hill, I saw a large complex of ruined stone, all but the tallest broken lithic spires sinking into the verdant landscape around us. I heard notes from some metallic bell-like instrument bouncing off the flat surfaces of the ruin, punctuated by an occasional whistling flute that spun microtonal melodies.
The size of the structure before me was impressive. It was clearly part of a larger structure that once stood an unknown height into the sky. Promethean stones were scattered about a large area, as if it had fallen over long ago. There were no Forebear glyphs to be found here. Instead, the remnants of an unknown angular script, interwoven with braided organic patterns, were faintly visible through the decay, covering tablets inset into the walls of the ruin. My guide led me over broken stone, past hallways that descended deep into labyrinthine darkness, until we arrived at the place where the music was coming from.
That chamber close to the heart of the structure was overlooked by a portal containing shattered remnants of stained glass. When it had been built, it would have been the largest stained glass window I’d ever seen, to rival the greatest chapels of the River. The space had been cleared of overgrowth, at least along the floor. Grasping vines, flowering with white orchids, flowed up the sides of the space.
In the center, the appetizing smell of meat emanated from a luscious chunk of some roasting animal, turning about on an improvised spit. It looked well-done, just about ready to eat. Nearby, a pot of something good, with dozens of flavors wafting over the brim, added to the overpoweringly good smells that triggered my mouth to water. Someone had set up a table with velvet-red cloth covering the wooden surface, and benches inset with brass buttons that were also comfortably covered with the same burgundy fabric.
I had to do a double-take at the musician.
It… they… were a giant lizard. Underneath spikes that jutted in a V formation above their head, wizened eyes were closed in a trance-like state. Their spiked chin inflated and deflated in a rhythmic pattern perhaps indicating happiness. Orange and green scales covered them. They were clad in beaded, striped, saffron-colored robes like my guide. Clawed hands tapped at the metal instrument in their lap as the microtonal melodies waded through the air to open and alert ears on my part. Around their neck, an ocarina swung to the melody that they tapped out.
Another smile graced the face of my guide, who stopped to listen to the melodies for a half a minute before interrupting the musical lizard.
“S’gath, she’s awake.”
Amber eyes popped open, quickly stopping the music short. The being’s nostrils flared as they regarded my arrival. Their head cocked to the side as they looked me up and down.
With one last inflation of their chin, they replied with a voice like a boulder scraping across the floor, “So she has. Welcome, and well met.”
I nodded politely to S’gath. “Yes, mister… S’gath. Nice to meet you.”
“Oh! Where are my manners!” My guide facepalmed. “I completely forgot to tell you my name. I’m Nanak. And you are?” He arched an eyebrow in question.
“Haye… Zintan?” I answered.
“Yes. As S’gath has said, well met. We’re delighted to have you. Haven’t had many other people in years.”
“How long have you been here?” I questioned.
Nanak walked over to the pot of boiling stew, drew out a scoop of delicious food with a ladle and smelled it as he answered. “I don’t know… ten years? Maybe eleven.”
“How can that be?” I asked.
S’gath inflated his chin. “You’re very inquisitive.”
“And? I think that’s a perfectly reasonable thing to be right now.”
“You’re right of course.” S’gath mused.
Nanak produced a wooden bowl from behind the cauldron and filled it with the stew. “S’gath just wasn’t expecting you to be so curious. There are some very strict guidelines for who to expect to get past the Gate.”
“Right, so going back to how long you’ve been here-”
“I’ve spoken the truth.” Nanak said firmly. “Time passes here a bit differently than in the other place.”
I paused, considering what questions to ask as Nanak continued to set the table for three. S’gath regarded me with an inscrutable lizard-expression. Finally, the musician stood and sauntered over to me, clawed feet clattering across the stone floor. Their amber eyes met mine and they sniffed in my direction as they stopped in front of me.
“For a Forebear, she has the bearing of a Precursor.”
“Some of us were warriors, S’gath.” Nanak added. “Soldiers, fighters…” He sighed. “People accustomed to killing.”
“You’re a Forebear.” I concluded in Nanak’s direction. “So… Hennir was right after all. You were… human.”
“Human after all.” Nanak grinned. “And with many thousands of years between us, I rather think you haven’t changed that much from your ancestors.”
I closed my eyes. “So… we could become like you again?”
“I wouldn’t advise it.”
My eyes narrowed in question at Nanak.
“Let’s just say we kept running from our mistakes instead of trying to find a permanent solution to them.”
“Are you the last? Forebear I mean?”
Nanak nodded sadly. “Would that I could look at my friends and family again. Or invite them to this table. To share in our communion.”
S’gath hissed a sibilant wavy pattern of air, something I took for laughter. “Are you sure they would desire to look upon your aged face, friend?”
Nanak laughed, a soft chuckle echoing off the ruined halls. “At least I have you to keep me humble.”
I smiled in spite of myself. “So if you’re a Forebear, what does that make him? And how were you two placed here?”
“He is one of those who came before even us.” Nanak said, “Long after the Ancients, but long before our distant time.”
“The Precursors?” I asked.
S’gath nodded. “I am of a line that stretches to the days of days.”
“What is that word?”
“Which?”
“‘Day’?”
S’gath stepped over to the table, and hopped onto one of the chairs, swinging his stubby, clawed legs up so that they hung off the edge of the too-tall chair. “It was used in a time when the world was different. When light and dark balanced each other in time, and my ancestors first awoke to consciousness beneath the darkened sky to witness the light’s journey to its zenith. Now, there is only fixed light and dark. Unequal to each other across your world.”
Nanak joined S’gath and added, “A lot of things were different in that time. And even in my time.”
I strolled to the table and sat down at my designated place, looking down at the bowl of stew, with a cut of meat to its side. A goblet of some purple juice lay in front of my right hand. I was starving. I looked up at the two of them. Nanak closed his eyes briefly and seemed to mutter something under his breath before reaching down to his utensils to eat of the food in front of him. S’gath was far less delicate with his behavior - clawed hands reached down to the meat and held it to his face as carnivorous teeth sliced into the cooked flesh. In that moment, I felt more a child of the Precursors than of the Forebears.
In spite of this, I followed Nanak’s example and dug in with a fork and strangely-shaped knife to my cut of meat.
A flood of flavor hit my tongue as I savored the unexpected pleasure.
I heard Nanak laugh as he observed my reaction. “I think we have a winner, S’gath.”
“That beast was hardly the fattest I have slain.” S’gath warbled through a mouthful of meat.
“It’s not only about the fat. The dressing is important.”
I glanced over at S’gath. “This is wonderful. Thank you.” Gratitude suffused my voice.
S’gath nodded, blinking his wizened eyes at me. “You are most welcome.”
We were silent for a while while we ate.
“Did you consider your next move, S’gath?” Nanak idly asked.
S’gath rumbled. “I have been thinking about nothing else prior to preparing our food.”
“Well, no pressure.” Nanak smirked. “I know the battlefield is not to your advantage, but I also know that circumstances can change like the wind.”
“I do not need patronizing, friend.” The Precursor grumbled. “It is a most ruinous defeat you are about to deal. I need only figure out the most honorable way in which I might make it cost you.”
“This a game we’re talking about?” I asked with a full mouth.
Nanak jerked a thumb over his shoulder at a small stone table in the shaded corner of the space, at which two plush cushions were set. A triangular board sat on the table, upon which I observed red and blue crystal pieces of varying height. The rules of the game were not clear, but one side definitely seemed to be at a disadvantage.
My love for gambling took hold of me. “Is that how you decide who cooks or something?”
S’gath shook his head. “The days divisible by two are mine to cook. His are the alternating days.”
“Long way of saying odd and even.”
Nanak grinned. “Even so, that is an intriguing idea, friend. What say you we wager a cooking day on who wins at Cheghad?”
The lizard blinked at his friend. “Then my burden would be the more to bear.”
“You have no faith in yourself, S’gath.” Nanak winked.
“On the contrary. My faith in myself is true. But never have I met such a skilled opponent. The sharpening of wit against wit… it is intoxicating.” The lizard breathed in.
“Do you do speed variants of this… Che… che… che-what-have-it?” I asked.
“Another interesting idea!” Nanak exclaimed.
“No.” S’gath stated bluntly.
I chuckled.
A ray of light fell across the table, and I looked up with closed eyes, letting the warmth cascade over my face as I smiled. It felt so natural.
I felt Nanak’s observing eyes. “Sometimes, I wonder if that is at all what it was like for us. Many years ago before our forefathers and foremothers began the Voyage.”
My eyes opened. “Before you came to the other place.”
The man nodded. “Before we came to your world.”
S’gath exhaled. “It must not have been so different from what it was for my people, friend. A world with night and day. A younger sun. Warmer. A turning world.” The lizard belched and ran a tongue over the rim of their lips and up to their eyes.”
“How long did you journey?” I asked.
“Me?” Nanak shook his head. “I was born and raised on your world. Those who came before wandered many millennia across many worlds. Where we originated from has been lost. I like to think S’gath is right though. When I close my eyes at night, I imagine that this might have been the place we came from: a world with a night and day, sun and moon. But They told us otherwise.”
“Not otherwise.” S’gath shook their head. “Only that this was the original home of the Ancients, not of your kin.”
“All the same… My curiosity demands an answer.”
“What’s a moon?” I asked.
“It’s another world that you can see in the sky.” Nanak stated.
“We have those.” I stated incredulously.
“Yes but, it’s different.”
“How so?”
S’gath sibilated again. “Oh for the time before the fast-rising-star! When the moon was in the sky!”
Nanak pushed his empty plate aside. “There are so many things you don’t know, Haye.”
“Educate me then. I’m a fast learner.” I stabbed at my plate, only to realize sadly that the meat had disappeared from it. The crunch of teeth alerted me to where it had gone, and I looked frustratedly at S’gath.
“Watch your plate when S’gath is hungry.” Nanak advised.
The lizard warbled innocently.
Nanak rose up to cut more meat off the spit. “Haye Zintan, I would love to spend an eternity with another friend, and tell them of all the secrets that I know of the universe. I would love to tell you of how different worlds can be, and of how limited your experience has been up to now. But soon… too soon…” he sighed. “You will be returning to the other place. And you will need our help or you will perish, along with anyone who came there with you.”
I closed my eyes. “How do I survive?”
“We will invest power in you.” Nanak paused and looked back at me. “The mantle we offer isn’t to be used for personal gain, do you understand?”
I looked deep within myself and nodded.
“I trust that you aren’t that sort of person - otherwise you wouldn’t have made it through the Gate, but I want to make it absolutely clear. The power we give you is not to be used lightly. Indeed, if you misuse it, it may cost you your life.”