Chapter 23

  Cici ended up sleeping for the night, while Kopius managed to dodge his responsibilities of reading. They rose early with the sun, awakened by nearby noises and angry belly’s. Breakfast was rough, to say the least, but given the two had basically skipped dinner, they were famished. So when the stale bread, luke-cold mush and something that resembled an over charred chicken leg arrived, they dove in.

  The eating space inside Jabit’s–originally a longhouse–had been upgraded to part cafeteria, part tavern hall. It had a high ceiling, at least twenty feet in height, covering three long tables that stretched all the way to the other end. That side was capped off by a grand fireplace and lounge area.

  There were a variety of customers from all ranges of professions. Many had worn faces, long abused by the outdoor elements. Others wore cleaner belongings, shaper hair cuts and air of superiority. Most went about their morning rituals with a droning efficiency.

  Once outside; northern Cawbachu was in full swing. People were coming and going like they were living that New York, New York lifestyle. The pair kept to their lane of traffic and navigated towards the gate. Fifteen minutes later, Kopius found himself in a moment of awe.

  The northern gates stood twice as tall compared to the other entrances they had walked through in town. The wall spanned tall and wide in both directions, with flanking towers every one-hundred yards. Two tall gates sat to each side of one ginormous, central gate; currently closed. It looked like people leaving town stayed to the right and those entering were coming in the other side to his left.

  Just like entering oldtown, there were only two guards watching the exit. There was a semi-steady flow of people heading out of town with only a few trickling in. The two men stopped at the water well to top off their fluids before rejoining the crowd to leave town. While passing through the gates, Kopius noted that the walls were twenty feet thick and the ceiling had hundreds of holes drilled in it.

  The outside area, just beyond the gates, was a dusty trail version of Twelve Days March. Cobblestone streets were for the town only, apparently. Clear and open were the spaces to each side of the well beaten path. No trees, bushes or any type of boulder could be found. It had long been cleared of any potential cover an enemy could use during an attempted siege.

  For at least four-hundred yards, the lands to each side of Twelve Days March were grass covered fields. To the left, just beyond the lawns end, the lush ground fell off into Escher Pass. To the right, the grass plains eventually ran up against a treeline. The way ahead was barren as well with only the wide dusty brown path cutting through the proliferating greenery.

  “We’ll walk north a bit,” Cici started to explain, “until we reach Katayama Ridge. We follow that to the

  Spires of Joatsu, go around those jagged peaks, cross the Dinson, and then wander off to stomp out that sweet lass of mine.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a one day trip,” Kopius noted.

  “No,” Cici replied with a chuckle, “it will take at least seven days on our feet. More if we find any distractions.”

  “Where are we going to sleep?”

  “Here and there, lad,” Cici waved the question away. “There are a few places along the way.”

  “Fair enough,” Kopius responded. “I need to keep an eye out for cyanins and optical-quartz.” He paused for a second because he realized he didn’t know what either looked like. “You know what they look like?”

  “That I do.”

  “Okay, cool,” Kopius replied. “Any chance we come across those on our way?”

  Cici scratched at his flawless beard before replying.

  “We can find some optical-quartz if we go the short route through Joatsu. Might be able to barter cyanins from a farm along the way. Not too sure about that though.”

  “Why are we going around if there is a shorter way?”

  “Safety,” Cici said flatly.

  “From what, monsters?”

  “There are monsters everywhere, my friend,” Cici posited. “I’m sure we even met a few back in town, if you catch my meaning. The path through the Spires of Joatsu is on shaky ground. The mountain throws boulders at all who travel through… and there are monsters.”

  “Like earthquakes?” Kopius asked to clear up Cici’s explanation.

  “Ground tremors,” the big man corrected.

  ‘Throwing rocks’ must be an avalanche or landslides or something, Kopus guessed.

  “You would be able to walk the Hall of Dashwrath,” Cici added. “That is worth the journey.”

  Kopius shook his head and gave Cici ‘please explain’ gestures.

  “The Hall of Dashwrath is a well known tale,” the big guy started. “Before Twelve Days March, the path along Katayama Ridge–another good tale, but for another time–where was I? Ah, yes, the path along the ridge: that was the way south. At least; the best way south. To reach Cawbachu from the waters of the Dinoson, you had to travel around Joatsu.” He pointed off to the distance, across Escher Pass.

  They were momentarily distracted by a group of Grizalkin–the cat looking people–walking towards town. Dressed in a form-fitting, gypsy-leaning style, with multiple piercings and bright colored attire; they all looked like variations of the attendant lady that had given him the replacement clothes in Cawbachu.

  These women–as determined via the same logic as before–looked upon Cici with a bit of fascination. One was motivated enough to playfully growl and swipe at him as she passed by. The big man turned, blew the lady a kiss–which jetted a small spout of flame–pleasantly startling the young woman given her laughter. He threw her a wink and a smile and then turned back around, all without missing a step.

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  “Do you know them?” Kopius asked, glancing back at the group.

  “Nah,” Cici laughed. “They like my belly.” He wrapped his arms about his stomach as if he were trying to cuddle it. The way he hunched over made him look fat.

  “Seriously?” Kopius asked, not sure if the big guy was trying to fool with him.

  “Indeed,” Cici answered, “they prefer the pillow to the pouches.” Again, he patted his belly.

  “Pouches?”

  “Pouches, lad,” Cici repeated. He reached over and lifted Kopius’s shirt up.

  Instinctually Kopius hi-yahed his hand, dropping the shirt back down. Cici gave him a ‘what are you doing’ look, while Kopius stared back with a ‘don’t fucking do that’ scowl. A miniature martial arts slap fight broke out when Cici tried a second time to reach for his shirt. They only caught a few awkward glances; the big man's laughing calmed anyone’s thoughts of imminent violence.

  “I’ve got the pillow,” Cici finally said after their battle was over. He lifted his own shirt and jostled his belly with his free hand. “If you’d stop with the shy act–I’ve seen you naked, lad–you have the pouches.” He pointed at Kopius’s midsection and feinted a few times like he was going to grab at him again.

  Kopius, taking an exaggerated step away from Cici, lifted his shirt to display the beginnings of well-defined six-pack abs. I don’t see where they get pouches from, he thought while examining. He admired them a moment, recalling the last time they appeared like this was in his early, early twenties.

  By comparison, Cory’s belly—the night before getting trapped on Metem—would have been flat and flabby; reminiscent of a gelatinous breadbasket. Where Cici had the active dad-bod look, Cory would have displayed the traditional, I-have-given-up-on-exercise-bod look.

  With the personal kinks of the Grizalkin settled, Cici had gone on to explain the Hall of Dashwrath. It was a story of a man, his chisel and a love eternal:

  Dashwrath, a young and talented sculptor, was set to wed the love of his life. While collecting raw materials in the Spires he would often talk to himself aloud to pass the time and sometimes calm the nerves. Dashwrath often spoke of his love and her ways.

  Unbeknownst to him, an angry earth spirit called the mountain its home and it did not like the ramblings of the sculptor; not in the least bit. On a particularly hot afternoon Dashwrath's fiance brought him extra food and refreshments. She was stolen by the spirit and whisked into the heart of the mountain.

  For many months that followed, Dashwrath mourned at the base of the mountain begging the spirit for her release. The spirit enjoyed the sculptor's misery and did nothing. Time passed by until the crying and begging stopped; the man opting to sit in joyless silence.

  One day the man shows up with his chisel set and starts to chip away at the side of the mountain. First he had to clear space. This took months of hard manual labor but Dashwrath was working as if a man possessed. Day-after-day he returned to physically chisel away at the mountainside until he had created a small cavity with a central block of unblemished stone.

  With space clear the real work began. Dashwrath started to create life-like statues by methodically chipping away at all the surrounding walls and ceiling. Months passed by and then years until, eventually, Metem made twenty-two trips around their sun before the great sculptor had finished. What started off as a small alcove had carved into a cavernous space, where every piece of art was still firmly a part of the mountain.

  The cave was filled with stone replicas of all her favorite items, furnishing, and cherished things. Stone statues of animals she had loved stood all over in various stances; all in exact detail and proportions. He even made it look like she had a variety of clothes to choose from, a beautician station and elaborate bath. It was a gift to her spirit of all the things she may be missing.

  The dedication and detail was enough for the evil spirit to come forth in the form of a rock golem and present the man with a challenge. If the great sculptor could create an exact duplicate of his love from the central piece of still untouched stone, he would release her.

  Dashwrath ran home, collected all of his equipment and began the project by fire light. Forced to rest only due to fear of the slightest blemish, the sculptor worked with a focus and determination that only the most dire of situations can bring out of a person. His hands moved in and around the stone as if guided by divinity. In what would take most artists years to create, Dashwrath had finished his flawless replica statue in under a month.

  The angry spirit was speechless. It examined every trace of her leg, every curve of her neck, and every one of her wild strands of hair. The spirit was true to its word and released the woman. When the two returned several days later to thank the spirit they discovered a long hallway cut straight through the mountain with hundreds of stone statues lining the way. It was like the spirit had crafted the hallway as a homage to the original carved alcove. One of the stone statues was said to be the same rock golem that the spirit had presented himself as. For the remainder of their lives, the couple brought offerings of thanks and to keep his greatest work as pristine as the day he carved it.

  The story had taken a decent chunk of the morning to recount and Cici was just finishing as they were approaching their turn. Twelve Days March continued to weave its way north but they were going to make a left and head west-ish; following an older path along the ridge.

  Kopius pretended to be driving a car and–using only one hand on the steering wheel–made his ‘vehicle’ cut drastically across on-coming—but also non-existent—traffic. There were also sound effects.

  “Is that it? That's the end?” Kopius asked after getting his automobile's imaginary fishtail under control.

  “Well, yes.” Cici huffed.

  “Those things usually end with someone dying; or losing an eye or a hand or something,” Kopius clarified. “If it didn’t end in travesty or an angrier spirit, why the danger up there then?”

  “Oh, that.” Cici replied, pausing to take a drink of water. “Some fool desecrated the statue and the spirit exploded in rage. Brought down some of the hall. Tremors ever since. Drink?” He offered but Kopius declined.

  “We can still get through the hall though?”

  “I have passed through it twice,” Cici proclaimed. “As long as nothing has drastically changed, it would save us a few days of travel.”

  “Only if we have to,” Kopius stated with the universal hand chop indicating he had spoken and it was final. The idea of playing chicken with a bunch of falling boulders was not high on his to-do list.

  They walked in relative silence for a while. Cici had pulled out Luna strummed at it for a bit until he began to practice the first part of the wedding song. Kopius hummed along while taking in the overall scenery.

  Once they had turned down the ridge a more natural landscape had formed. There were trees and bushes; the makings of a forest. Boulders lined the road on both sides and the farther they moved down the path the more the wilderness came alive.

  Off to their left, depending on the angle, looked like a giant sea with countless and incredibly large water lilies all across. It was remarkable to Kopius that the hoodoo’s littering Escher Pass were all the same height. The spacing between them was erratic but again, Kopius imagined building hundreds, possibly thousands, of bridges to cross the great expanse instead of struggling through its valley. As he looked out across the open space he couldn’t help but consider something.

  He pulled up his map to confirm his hypothesis. After zooming out enough to get the right look, he nodded in agreement with himself. Now that they were following the ridge along Escher Pass, they were essentially making a giant U-turn. At least, the way the Blur was clearing on his map, it was starting to take the shape of the letter.

  Another item he noted on his map was a tiny purple obscured dot hidden behind the same blur. It showed the known location of the other half of the C.O.M.A. Now that they had turned west, the purple smudge looked to be straight ahead of them but off at a significant distance.

  Until they stopped to eat lunch, Kopius spent the remainder of his walk guessing as to what each color on the C.O.M.A. meant.