The Guardian Ruins (Part I)

Prologue

Anthropologists and biologists agreed that humanity had not evolved on the planet of Zemlia. In a long forgotten past, their forefathers had arrived in Zemlia from some distant star. Legends talked of a star named Sol, and of a planet named Terra, and of starships. Starships driven by strange men, starships travelling from star to star, starships bringing the first men to Zemlia.

But there were no starships in the present. The known universe for the residents of Zemlia was limited to the island of Maternik – the only piece of land on Zemlia, surrounded by a planet-wide ocean. No one remembered when the last starship came; or knew why they stopped coming – and nobody cared. Zemlia was a kind planet. Its climate was mild, its land was fertile, and its vast ocean supplied unlimited food. Nobody bothered what was happening with those faraway stars. People were content, and they were happy. Everybody was happy.

Well, almost everybody – except the old man. The old man was not happy.

1

Breakdown

The daily shuttle from Stolica to Gorodok started, as usual, just before dawn. It was important to reach the town of Gorodok before sundown – after all, the hills of Bolsaiagora were not a place where one would like to be out during the night. There were seven passengers in the crawler, less than the usual, but the business at Gorodok was no longer what it used to be.

Gorodok used to be the primary fishing town of Maternik, prospering under the tutelage of the Castle of Tutlehoom situated high in the hills of Bolsaiagora. But now the Castle lay in ruins and the hills were haunted. Nobody dared travel through those hills in the night – and the town of Gorodok retained its prosperity only in tales.

The crawler was making good progress, passengers busy in their tiny things. There was that young mother who was taking her infant to his grandparents; and those two teenage brothers who were returning after having a vacation in the capital city of Stolica. Then there was the fish merchant on a business trip who never raised his head from his compu-mach. The sixth was an elderly lady who worked as a nurse at the Gorodok hospital, and who was continuously advising the young mother on child-care. And the final passenger was a man of indeterminate age sitting on the last seat, continuously observing his co-passengers but never uttering a word.

Just when the sun was starting its downward journey, the crawler took a sharp U-turn and the road again sloped upwards. They were in a narrow valley deep inside Bolsaiagora, and a series of mountains stood between them and Gorodok. If one slightly craned his neck to the left, he could see the ruins of Tutlehoom, still shining magnificently in the westward sun. There was utter silence inside the crawler; even the infant had stopped his chirping. It was as if the gloom of Tutlehoom had fallen over the weary travellers. The driver had habitually increased the speed of the crawler, attempting to get away from the shadow of Tutlehoom as soon as possible. Suddenly the crawler took two hic-cups, stopped, and started to roll backwards.

The driver, sitting on his elevated seat, swore loudly and slammed on the brake pedal. There was utter silence inside the crawler for a moment, before the fish merchant exclaimed in a squeaky voice, “Why are we stopping here? Can’t we get out of here soon?” The nurse rose and went up to the driver’s seat, “What do you think of yourself stopping at this god-forsaken place? Start-up and get moving, mister!” “I am not enjoying this place any more than you do,” was the response, “But this piece of junk was moving fine till five paces back. Let me get down and see what has irritated it now.”

The driver jumped down from his elevated seat and opened the door of the crawler. The chilling winds of Bolsaiagora swept inside the crawler, and the young mother held the baby more tightly in her arms. The driver swore again, pulled up the collars of his dull grey overalls, stole a glance towards Tutlehoom, and stepped out. The anxiety was visibly reflecting on everyone’s face, only the silent passenger on the last seat was as impassive as he had been throughout the journey. A few minutes later the driver re-entered the crawler and announced, “There is nothing I can find wrong with the engine, but the damn thing will not start.” It took a few moments for the meaning of driver’s statement to sink in. If the engine of crawler cannot be started, they cannot move from that place – and if they cannot move from that place, they cannot get out of the hills of Bolsaiagora before sundown. There was no other traffic on that route. The only mode of transport from Stolica to Gorodok was that crawler, which started from Stolica before dawn and reached Gorodok by sundown, and travelled the same route in opposite direction the next day. And now the same crawler had stopped right in the heart of Bolsaiagora, in the shadow of Tutlehoom.

The driver rushed to his seat and started working on the radio. If only he can contact Gorodok. If the rescue team started immediately from the town, they might be able to get the passengers to some safe shelter before sundown. But the effort was useless. They were surrounded by high hills on all sides which no radio could have penetrated. The people at Gorodok would realize their misfortune only when the crawler will fail to reach the town by sundown. And then it would be too late to send a rescue team, in the Bolsaiagora. The team would start only in the morning, which meant that the passengers would be spending a whole night in the shadow of the Castle of Tutlehoom.

As soon as the driver told this status to the passengers, the pandemonium broke-out. Everybody was shouting, blaming everything for the unfortunate situation – the driver, the gods, the spirits of Bolsaiagora. And then the man on the last seat spoke for the first time. “Shouting is not going to help us out of this place,” he said. “We cannot spend the night at this spot in the crawler. It will get too cold in the night, and at least the baby and his mother will need proper shelter. It would be better if we can find a better place before the sundown.”

“There is a small hamlet of grazers some miles back a bit off the road, just before the ascent for the hills starts,” the driver spoke, “If we try, we can reach there before sundown. Maybe we can get some shelter there.” “Not with them grazers,” this was the nurse, “How can you trust those grazers who live under the shadow of Bolsaiagora? I am not going to take shelter with those brutes.” “Then you are most welcome to stay in this crawler madam, comfortably in the shadow of Tutlehoom with all the spirits of the hills to keep company. I am certainly going to walk to that hamlet,” retorted the merchant, who was already ready to walk with his compu-mach under his arm. The two brothers also seemed ready to walk, while the mother seemed uncertain. The silent man went forward and picked-up her bag, “You must come with us. The baby will need warmth, food and proper shelter. We shall leave our luggage in the crawler. Except the requirements of the baby, we shall walk light.” The driver quickly wrote a note, in case a rescue party arrives before they returned to the crawler, picked up a bag from under his seat, and they started.

The group, led by the driver, had hardly moved twenty paces when the nurse also joined them. The fear of the spirits of Bolsaiagora was more powerful than the fear of grazers.

2

The Blind

Natse could feel the end of day approaching. For him the only difference between day and night was the increased chill in the air. People had told him that day meant light while night meant darkness, but that was meaningless. He never understood what light was, or how it was different from darkness. He was born blind.

But now the decreasing temperature meant that he had to find some shelter. He did not want to go back to the hamlet; he wanted to climb up the hills, up to the very tops. Everyone in the hamlet used to tell him not to wander towards the hills, even his mother while she was alive. The memories of mother always made Natse sad. He never knew who his father was, and his mother died when he was six years old. But Natse vividly remembered her voice, and her smell, and her feel, and everything about her – except how she looked.

After the death of his mother, the people of the hamlet had kept Natse alive. He would often wander far away from the hamlet, returning only when he felt hungry. Everybody wondered how he was able to find his way back, but Natse found nothing surprising in that. He knew where the hamlet was, so he came back to it. If you knew where something was, you did not need to see it in order to find it. It was as simple as that.

But everybody had cautioned him against going in the direction of the hills, and he never dared to go there. However, the urge to climb to the top had become unbearable, and today he decided to succumb to that urge. The people of the hamlet need not be worried; he could take care of himself. After all he was no longer a child.

Now the immediate problem was to find a shelter for the night, so that he can start the climb again in the morning. There was a suitable place nearby. He had never been there before, but he knew. He could feel it.

Suddenly he sensed people approaching. Natse froze. Nobody ever came to those hills, certainly not at sundown. Who could they be? Had the people from his hamlet found out that he had slipped into the hills, and had arrived to take him back? No, the footsteps were approaching from the opposite direction. Could they be the spirits everybody talked about? No, no. Spirits did not make the sound of footfall. These were men – four, or rather five. What should he do now? Should he hide somewhere and let them pass? But he did not know where to hide. Should he continue walking? Maybe they will not notice him. He remembered that normal people could not see in the dark. Was it dark enough? How could he know? The noise was quite close now. No more time to do anything. He should keep on walking.

3

Meeting

The rays of the sun were getting weaker. It would be dark soon, but they had not yet found the hamlet. They were not even out of the hills. The fish merchant was getting restless. He opened his mouth to say something, but then decided against it. The driver was leading the way, a short plump man with thick moustaches, a yellow canvas bag hanging carelessly hanging from his left shoulder. The nurse was walking besides him, nervously looking at every shadow – half-expecting some demon to spring out of it. The two brothers were walking after them, both tired, but both reluctant to be the first to show it. The fish merchant was walking just behind them, still carrying his compu-mach under his arm. The mother was very tired and trailing far behind. She wanted to sit and rest for a while, but the silent man had stopped to encourage her. He offered to carry the baby, but the mother declined. She quickened her pace. If the group moved too far ahead, she might face problems in locating them in the darkness. She had to stay with the group.

The group turned round a boulder, and suddenly found a small boy walking towards them. A small boy, hardly nine years old, walking alone in the hills of Bolsaiagora? Was this a trick played on them by the evil spirits, or had they reached the hamlet for which they were heading for? The group, astonished, stopped in their tracks.

* * *

Natse sensed that the people had stopped. They had certainly seen him. Was it not dark enough yet? Or maybe they were also blind like him. Only blind could know things even in dark. No, they could not be blind, blind never made so much noise. Natse could sense surprise and fear. He had to stop. He knew that it could be dangerous to get too close to someone who was afraid. Who were they? What were they doing in the hills? Certainly not from the hamlet. The people from hamlet never went in the hills, and he recognized the sound of everyone there. Some more people were approaching them from behind. Only two footfalls, but he could sense three newcomers. He should wait for them to make the first move.

* * *

The boy had stopped. He was very shabbily dressed, in torn rags not at all sufficient to protect his body from the chill. One of the grazers, likely. Should they ask him the way to the hamlet? But there was something strange about the boy. The way he was standing, the way he was not looking at them directly, cocking his head sideways – as if trying to listen rather than see them. Certainly a friend of the spirits of the hills. Could he be dangerous? But how could a small boy harm them?

The sun went beneath the hills. Suddenly the shadows darkened and chill increased. The nurse slid a bit closer to the driver. Why was the boy not doing anything? Was he waiting for some signal from the spirits? There was no point turning back now, they would never reach the crawler. It was a folly leaving the crawler and walking, she knew it. If only they had listened to her. The silent man was responsible for all their trouble; he suggested moving away from the crawler. But what was he doing now? Why was he going towards the boy?

* * *

One of the men was stepping forward, one of the newcomers. Natse sensed no fear in him, only curiosity. He should not be dangerous. There was confidence in his steps. Natse should allow him to come closer. “Hello little friend! We were not expecting to meet you here, but we need your help. I am Veekam, and we were travelling to Gorodok by the crawler. But the crawler broke down and we are stuck in these hills. Maybe you can guide us to the hamlet of grazers, or take us to some safe place where we can spend the night. That small baby needs protection from the chill,” spoke the man. Natse detected some falsehood in his speech. Why did these men try to lie, when it was so easy to detect a lie? Why could they not tell the truth? But it was better not to call his lie right away. Maybe there would be a better time.

“I do not know, never been to these hills before. But there must be some caves nearby which could give some shelter. The hamlet is quite far, and I am not going in that direction anyway.” He had no intention of returning to the hamlet. “But where are the caves? How do you know about them when you have never been here before? Have you seen them?” this was the fish merchant. Natse never liked suspicion. He would need to be cautious with this man. “I have not seen anything in my life, but I know that there is shelter nearby. If you want, you can come with me,” saying this, Natse started to walk past the group. He could hear the gurgling of a small baby. He relaxed a bit. He should not feel threatened by a group having a small baby. Maybe these people really needed a shelter.

The group was again in quandary. Should they follow this little boy, who did not seem to know where he was going, or should they continue with their search for the hamlet? They were struggling with these questions when the mother started to follow the boy. Seeing this, the silent man also stepped forward to accompany her. The decision was made for the group; they all started in the same direction. It was quite dark now, and one direction was as good as another. The night had to be spent in the hills.

4

The Scout

It was a bright afternoon, but the curtains were drawn in the hall. A solitary lamp in the corner was not sufficient to light-up the hall. Verm’ark was momentarily blinded by the semi-darkness, but then he spied the old man standing besides the huge book-stand. It was highly unusual for a person of his status to be called for a personal interview with the old man. He went forward and greeted the old man by touching his left knee to the ground.

“I hope you have understood the details of the mission,” the old man wasted no time in formalities.

“Yes the Eldest. I have understood the details and the importance of the mission,” replied Verm’ark.

“No, you can never understand the true importance of the mission. Just focus on your part in the mission, and let others care about its importance,” snapped the Eldest. The old man might not be the oldest in the Brotherhood, but the Eldest was the title with which everyone addressed him.

Verm’ark retracted immediately, “Pardon me the Eldest. I had no intentions to exceed the instructions given to me.” It was not a good idea to annoy the Eldest. Verm’ark was being sent on a rare field mission by the Brotherhood, and he did not want to spoil the opportunity.

“Since you are entrusted with this important task, it would be appropriate if you are told about the consequences of failure. And this is the reason for this meeting.” An explanation of this sort given by the Eldest himself was unprecedented. Verm’ark shuddered realizing the weight of responsibility on him.

The old man continued, “The ‘Brotherhood of Unseen Custodians’ was established by Odes’ark after the humans had arrived on Zemlia, around the time when the contact with other stars was lost. He is considered to be the first Eldest, and I, Scud’ark, am the one-hundred-and-seventy-fourth Eldest.” It was getting more and more mysterious. “In the intervening millennia, the Brotherhood has continued its existence on the fringes of Zemlian polity and society. People are aware of our existence, but our activities and objectives are unknown to the outsiders.” Even the insiders rarely knew about the activities and objectives, Verm’ark thought, except the officials at very top. The access to information in Brotherhood was strictly on the need-to-know basis. “Some people think of us as hermits, while some others as crazy conspirators. But for the most we are just a bunch of demented social misfits, who imagine that they are destined save the planet from some imaginary apocalypse.”

“This is partly an illusion created deliberately by us,” the old man was certainly in a talkative mood today, but Verm’ark knew that the Eldest never said anything without purpose. “Image of insanity has protected us from the antagonism of those in powers as well as from the resentment of common men – while allowing us to work silently.”

“Can the Eldest be kind enough to let me know about our true purpose?” Verm’ark felt that he can risk a question at this point.

The Eldest chuckled silently. “I see that you are curious. We have not selected the wrong man for the mission; this curiosity can be the difference between success and failure. But you have to learn to keep that curiosity in control. It is a double-edged sword. It is good to know things which you are supposed to know, but knowing more than required can be dangerous – for you, and for others.” Verm’ark felt disappointed, though he had not really expected a better answer. The old man was not finished yet. This time there was no humour in his voice, “You cannot understand the importance of this mission for the Brotherhood, but I do hope that you understand the importance of it for yourself. I am an old man now, and very soon the Brotherhood will be selecting the one-hundred-and-seventy-fifth Eldest.”

Verm’ark felt his head spinning. He was an intelligent man, and he was aware of it. He knew that he would rise in the hierarchy of Brotherhood, but the position of the Eldest was beyond his wildest dreams. The mission must be really critical one, if the prize for its success was the position of Eldest. Or was the mission so sinister that the position was being offered as a bribe? What was the truth? Why him?

The old man went on with his explanation...

5

Shelter

The boy had led them to a cave within a few minutes. Surprisingly, the group had went past the same spot, while there was still some light, and had completely failed to notice the cave. And this boy, who never seemed to watch where he was going, had found the cave – though he claimed that he had never been there before. It was some time before the group had realized that the boy was blind, he was walking with such surety. Sometimes it seemed that he was listening to the path, sometimes smelling; while the group might have vouched that there was nothing to listen or smell.

That was a comfortable and apparently safe cave, its entrance hidden behind a big boulder. There was just enough space for them to enter one by one. The boy was the first to enter, as confident as always. The silent man, Veekam, followed him, and called the others after ensuring that the cave was safe. The driver’s bag contained a lamp, so they were not in complete darkness. They had nothing to eat, but no one was really feeling hungry. The baby was fed, and was sleeping in his mother’s lap. Others might also have slept, had they been able to remove the fear of Bolsaiagora from their minds.

Veekam went to the boy, who was sitting alone in the corner, lost in his own thoughts. He had not spoken a word ever since the group had started to follow him. Veekam wanted to know about him, but he was not sure how to start.

“You have not told us your name, little friend,” was a safe beginning.

“People call me Natse, and we are still not friends. We are just co-travellers, for a brief part of our journeys.”

The silent man grasped the opening this statement provided. “Ah! But friendship has to start somewhere, and a journey is a good start – if you also think so.”

“Maybe. I do not know much about friendship, but I guess it requires much more than a journey together.”

“You have brought us to this shelter, and this is enough for me to treat you as a friend. Many of us would not have survived the night without you.”

“If you are referring to the spirits of the hills, then the cave is not much of a shelter.” The voice of the boy indicated that he himself did not care much about the spirits. Veekam decided to probe further, “You ought to have considered about the spirits before venturing in the hills, alone.”

Natse detected the curiosity hidden behind this statement. He decided to play the game further, “I might have had come here to meet the spirits. How can you be sure that they are more dangerous than humans?”

Veekam could not think of a suitable response, but he was not willing to let go easily. “I guess that you are from the hamlet of grazers. What do your people know about the spirits of Bolsaiagora?”

“Nothing I know of. The only thing I can recall hearing about Bolsaiagora is that the hills are haunted and I should not go there. Do you think that we enjoy talking about the history of Tutlehoom?” Natse knew that he had further fuelled the curiosity of this strange man, so he turned his back towards him. He was not sure about the man’s intentions. There was no trace of malevolence in his voice, but Natse had not forgotten the earlier lie. He needed some more time to decide his response.

Veekam could not resist, “I am sure you have heard about the massacre of Tutlehoom.” He was now speaking in a very low voice, careful not to be overheard. The massacre was the darkest episode in the history of Zemlia. The Castle of Tutlehoom was the pleasure-home of the ruling family of Zemlia. But on a night forty years ago, all the residents of the Castle, including the whole ruling family, were killed. Suspicion was raised against the faction that attained power after the massacre, but nothing was ever proved – partly because there were no survivors, and partly because the suspects were themselves in power. Such changes in power were not very infrequent on Zemlia (though none had been so violent) and public memory was short. Tutlehoom and the massacre were also lost in the mists of time. But people started to believe that the spirits of the victims still wandered in the hills of Bolsaiagora, and took revenge on anybody who happened to be there in the hills at night. Gradually people had stopped going in the hills, and even the mention of Tutlehoom and Bolsaiagora began to be considered as a bad omen.

Even if Natse had heard about the massacre, he showed no reaction. Without turning his face, he just said, “People in power have strange ways, and we grazers do not care to understand them. I think we should try to have some sleep while the spirits are not bothering us. Tomorrow might be a hard day for you.” He also wanted to rest. The climb to the top was not going to be easy.

6

Decision

Veekam woke up with a start. He, the fish merchant and the driver had decided to keep watch in turn – though none of them, except the baby and Natse, had really dared to sleep. Fortunately the spirits, if they existed, had decided not to trouble them throughout the night. When it was near dawn, it was the driver’s turn to keep watch and Veekam had just dozed off.

He found that the driver was shaking him and saying, “We should proceed towards the crawler. The rescue team might arrive there shortly, and it would be better if they do not have to search for us.” Veekam quickly surveyed the room. The corner where Natse slept was empty.

He was surprised, “Where is that blind boy? We should take him with us. It is not safe for him to roam around in the hills alone.” “He left the cave just at the crack of dawn. I tried to stop him, but he would not listen,” replied the driver, “Though I am sure that he can take better care of himself than anybody of us can.” Veekam’s curiosity in the boy at the night had not gone unnoticed.

“I wonder what he is up to, or what he expects to find in these hills. But you are right; we should leave for the crawler immediately.” He would have enough time to worry about the boy later. There was no point in making others suspicious.

The group started immediately. They made good time. The realization that they had survived a night in the hills of Bolsaiagora had increased their energies. They reached the crawler by the time the sun was halfway up in the sky. A black-coloured skitter, with the ensign of Zemlian constabulary, was squatting besides their broken machine, and a uniformed constable was pacing around.

“Ah, there you are. Gave us a nice little shock in the night. But am I glad to see you all well!” the man shouted as soon as he noticed them from a distance. Then he started to speak in his shoulder communicator.

The driver stepped forward to explain, “This machine just refused to move ahead from this spot. The radio was also not working, and the sundown was near – so we decided to look for a better shelter.”

“Yes, we found your note. My fellows have gone in your search, while I stayed here in case you came back. I have informed them that you are here. We shall start for Gorodok as soon as they are back. The mechanics will come later to take care of this machine.”

“But I am worried about that little boy,” this was the young mother, “None of us would have survived had he not helped us. We should not leave him alone in the hills.”

“Yes, but we do not know where he has gone. How can we wait for him, we are already very late. And maybe he has returned to his hamlet,” the fish merchant had a pragmatic approach. “What little boy?” the uniformed man was puzzled, “Was there anybody else with you? We were told only about five adults, two teenagers and one infant, and I can see all of you are here.”

“We met a boy of grazers in the hills, and he guided us to shelter for the night. But he suddenly left us at the dawn. The surprising thing is that the boy was blind, yet he walked confidently in the hills,” explained the nurse. Her opinion of grazers had certainly improved during the night. The constable was lost in thoughts. He spoke after a few moments, “We should not leave a little boy alone in the hills. He might be in danger. But I also do not want to keep you people waiting any longer. It would be better if all of you reach your destinations at the earliest. We will inform the officer, when he returns. He will decide what to do.”

In a few minutes three other constables along with an officer arrived at the scene. The officer appeared troubled when he was told about the mysterious blind boy. At length he spoke, “We cannot leave the boy to his fate. I shall leave two constables here to search for the boy.” There was visible discomfort among the four constables at the idea of staying behind in the hills, but the officer continued, “As soon as we reach Gorodok, we will be sending the hoist along with mechanics to pull this crawler. They shall be here by late afternoon. You can return with them. It will be fine if you are able to find that boy by that time, otherwise the authorities will decide whether to continue the search or not.” Saying this, he pointed out two constables who were to stay behind to look for Natse.

“It will be better if I also stay with them,” this was Veekam. He was feeling grateful towards the young mother for bringing up the subject of the boy. “I had developed some friendship with the boy, and I think I will be of help here. Anyway, my work at Gorodok was scheduled for today morning, and now it does not matter when I reach there.” “It is alright with me. The more hands, the better,” with this statement, the officer signalled everybody to board the skitter – and the vehicle departed from there within a couple of minutes, leaving three souls behind in the heart of Bolsaiagora.

The two constables seemed relieved to have a third companion. The first spoke, “Searching for a boy in these hills? Is it a joke? Give me an idea from where to start.” “We should be looking for him in the gorges first,” was the second constable, “He will be lying somewhere with a broken neck.”

“I think we should walk towards the cave where we stayed during the night. Hopefully there we will be able to find some clue about the direction the boy went. It seems to me that he might have returned to his hamlet,” said Veekam, while taking out his bag from the crawler. The two constables shrugged their shoulders and started to walk in the direction pointed by him.

7

Journey

Natse had woken up just before dawn. He had had a good sleep, though he could sense a lot of anxiety all around. Now it was complete silence, it seemed that everybody was sleeping. It was time to leave. He had a lot of distance to cover today. He did not know how tall the hills of Bolsaiagora were, but everybody told him that they were very tall. But how tall was very tall? Were they as tall as twenty boys of his height standing one over another, or fifty boys, or maybe hundred? It did not matter. He would certainly reach the top of the hills today, even if they were as high as two-hundred boys standing one over another.

But the path would be difficult. Even yesterday he had to walk very carefully, though the path was not steep. He did not know what to expect from today. His shoes were torn, and it hurt whenever his foot struck against any boulder. But he had to walk. He would conquer the pain. Nothing could stop him.

He tried to remember the exit of the cave. It must be around thirty paces, slightly to the left. But what if someone was sleeping on the ground in the way? He did not want to wake up anybody. He could sense people around, but could not find their exact locations. Sleeping people were always difficult to locate. He could creep on all fours, so that he would not step on anybody.

The exit was very close now; just a few more steps and he would be out of the cave. Suddenly there was a voice from the back, “Where are you going child? The sun is still not fully up. We will move from this place when there is a bit of light.” This was a soft voice, not the same man who had talked to him last night. Not the suspicious man either. Natse did not bother to answer. It will be a waste of time, and others might also wake up. He stood up, and walked out of the exit; he had remembered it correctly.

Once outside, Natse stopped for a moment. On the left was the way back to the hamlet, while on the right was the path from which that group had arrived. It would probably lead towards the town of Gorodok. But Natse did not want to go to any of those places. He wanted to climb up the hill. He did not know how or when this desire had come to him, but it was irresistible now. He had to climb up.

Natse went round the boulder sheltering the mouth of the cave, and started climbing. He somehow knew in which direction to go, yet it was difficult. He had to find the path by feeling with his hands and feet. He was aware that one slip can throw him down the hill, so he had to always maintain a secure handhold. His progress was slow, very slow. Feet by feet, inch by inch, he was moving ahead – with only one ambition in his mind, to reach the top.

The hills were much taller than he had imagined. The sun was overhead, but he was still climbing. He had no means to know how much more he had to climb – the next step could be the final step, or there might be thousands of steps more. He was tired, and hungry. He suddenly realized that he had not eaten anything since the morning of the previous day. His hands and feet were badly bruised, the palms were bleeding. He felt thirsty, so he tried sucking on his bleeding fingers, but it was no good. He could feel blisters on his lips.

Suddenly his feet splashed in cold water. Oh, this must be a stream. He bent down and drank, washed his hands and feet and face. The thirst was quenched, but the realization of hunger increased. Now it was difficult to get up and walk again. His legs had started feeling cramps, but he struggled and stood up. Now he had to cross the stream. The water was very cold, but he stepped in it. The water came to his waist, then to his chest and then to his chin. The flow was too fast, and the stones under his feet were too slippery. There was nothing to hold on, and he was not sure in which direction he was going. The force of water was throwing him off balance. Suddenly he slipped, and his feet lost their hold. There was water and only water, everywhere. He could not take breath. The stream was carrying him, rapidly, downstream. He was struggling, but loosing. The water was too fast, running in eddies, throwing him in circles, a thousand circles in less than a second. His lungs were about to burst. Air! He needed air. He tried to raise his head – but no, there is only water. If only he could stand on his feet, then maybe his head would come above the water surface. He dived, but there was no ground. Only water and water all the way down. It was hundreds of fathoms deep. The stream must have carried him to the ocean by now. Yes! That must be the ocean, endless, and bottomless. Was that the end? The end...

Suddenly his feet touched the ground. He scampered ahead. A blast of cool air filled his lungs. He fell forward, half of his body on dry ground. There was no strength left in his body. He stayed on the ground, panting, for a long time. Minutes, hours, days; the time lost its meaning. Finally he got up. He had no idea where he was. How far had the stream had carried him? The surroundings were rocky – so he was still in the hills of Bolsaiagora, but he had lost the sense of direction and time. But he was certain that he had to climb to the top. No matter how difficult the path was, he will reach the top.

Natse started in the direction in which the ground was sloping upwards. He felt a silent voice reverberating in his mind – soothing, calming, reassuring. Telling him that he was still on right track. But the ground has grown even more treacherous after crossing that stream. He had to feel the ground with his feet before every step. On several occasions he almost stepped in the thin air. A couple of times he had to retrace his steps because there was no further path. But he went on, up and further up.

And then there was sound of flowing water. Natse stopped in his tracks. The experience he had at the previous stream was too fresh in his mind. And he had to cross another stream. Would he survive this one? But he was overcome by hunger and thirst that time, his mind had lost focus. This time he was ready. Natse knew that he can counter any danger as long as he had control over his mind. This time he was confident, fully in control, ready to face any threat.

He stepped forward to cross the stream.