The usual afternoon crowd pushed and plodded its way through the narrow alleys between the clan houses. People were weaving in and out of what seemed to be a living stream of consumers. They collided, stopped, apologized, and then moved again along their way creating a thin curtain of dust which ascended high above the market. Spring is near and the Matasarts will wake from their winter sleep to feed and soon the clan houses will leave for the hunting grounds, he thought while walking through the crowd. He frowned as the dust which rose around him irritated his nose. Ulans were a tall and strong people, but Subito had much wider shoulders than most in the crowd. His head was visible from a far ways off, setting himself apart from the crowd. The subtle movements betrayed his skills as an experienced warrior. His steps soft and elastic, he walked with his gate turned for easy access to his scythe if necessity warranted it.

They were moving with swiftness through a spot of the Gathering, near the top of the White Mountain. Once, during a summer when no one else was there save for the many flocks of flying sparrows, he stood there mesmerized by its natural beauty. It was a stunning meadow covered with soft green grass and multi-colored flowers. Up here the air back then was clean and crisp, enriched with a soft flowery scent and held the most amazing view of the Valley which held the Gathering below. Even now the soft calls of the female sparrows adorned in simple khaki colors of varied lightness could be heard. They called out to the males decorated with a dark reddish-brown cap. These birds could be found jumping around on almost every part of the island. Now, he thought, now the Gathering looked different. The beauty and tranquility the meadow once held had now retreated pushed back by the curtain of smells and sounding of noise of the thickening crowds. He looked back over the gathering and saw the pale light of distant Fetun Stones. They were casting long dark shadows through the streets by backlighting the many enormous clan houses.

Sweat trickled down his face as he moved fast under the heavy Ulan armor. He glanced at Miratur with envy, and in a frustrated tone said, “Sometimes, I wish I were a female. You are trained as archers and all you have to carry is a bow and a quiver full of arrows. We, the men have to bear these heavy armor plates on our chests and calves.”

“I would love you even if you were a female,” Miratur uttered, “and if that were to happen I would love to see you carrying my baby in your belly.”

He didn't know what to say. The smells hung heavy in the air all around him with warrior’s sweat, both male and female scented with alcoholic vapor. Old clan houses with a rotten odor, standing next to several clan houses which were made this year. New ones smelled fresh like minced wood and pine glue of which they were made. Clan houses had always reminded him of large bee hives.

After a long walk down one of the innumerous alleys they stood on the outskirts of the great city. Here gigantic lizard-like creatures were stooping low, feeding on the grass and flowers of the surrounding meadows. Miratur was excited to point at them and say, “Look, the Brigs are feeding.”

“They will need strength to carry clan houses,” he offered, “It's almost a time to leave the Gathering for the Matasart Hunts.”

She grasped his forearm and wrenched him along with her. “Let’s go near them, for a better view. I have always loved to gaze upon the Brigs. When I was a child I used to watch them grazing. Every time I had done that I was entranced by their majesty.”

They approached the giant creatures with care. One of them raised his head in alarm, staring at them. Subito said, “We are close enough. Just look at the size of it,” he said in awe of its powerful stance, “it's like looking upon a small hill.”

“I agree. Those creatures are territorial and will only allow their Brig masters to touch them.” She shivered, “It's terrible the way the Brig masters are raised.”

“Yes, only mere days after a child is born it is assessed and then deemed whether it can become a Brig Master or not. If a child is found to carry the traits of a Brig Master the mother presses small amber Gurum Stone into the soft tissue of the baby's skull. Right here,” he said, pointing at the spot above her forehead. “The stone will emit energies to calm the Brig's restless demeanor and allow them to be bridled and controlled.”

“Terrible,” she shivered again.

“It is not painful to the child.” He tried in vain to reassure her, “Babies have a soft spot in their skull at the area where stone is placed for the first couple months of their lives. The Gurum Stone embeds into their skull and becomes a part of their life energy enhancing their mind to allow them to create a powerful connection with their assigned Brigs.”

“I always thought they glued it on somehow,” she quipped with undertone of sarcasm.

He chuckled, a little too loud for her taste, “No. I don’t think glue would last for a week much less their entire lives,” he smiled. Turning to her with a look of piousness, “Did you know … Gurum Stones cannot be found anywhere on Ulan?” She questioned him with her eyes. “They are only found in the Land of Moving Hills. Maybe on our journey there we will find one by chance and be able to control the mighty Brigs when we return. Or at least save it for a child from one of the clans.”

“I do not know if I could ever do that to our child?” she posed gazing across the wide expanse where the Brigs now were feeding.

The sentence hung in the air while he pondered her choice of words. The weight of the statement in its enormity rested on his shoulders, he raised his eyebrows and asked, “Our child?”

She turned to him and laughed as hard as he had ever saw anyone laugh, “Maybe someday sweet Subito but for now enemies wait.”

He let out a slow sigh of relief and then turned the conversation back to the Brigs and their masters. She said, “That would be fulfillment of my greatest childhood dream. I had always dreamt of riding a Brig the same as my mother had when I was little.” The massive creature paid no attention to them anymore. As it waved its long forked tail, it would spread his wings to chase away the annoying insects, blocking out a huge section of the sky.

“They are just like featherless birds. Large, green, leathery-skinned, birds,” she chuckled.

“They look like birds, but they are nothing like them. For instance, if they would eat as much as the birds do compared to their body mass, Ulan would soon turn into a barren wasteland,” he said grabbing his stomach. “My sword brother Melessar says it is because smaller parts of The Singularity are further away from the never-hungry source of all. Thus, a birds hunger is greater.”

He took her by the hand to give her a gentle pull and whisper, “We should go now.”

They paused for a moment under an ancient tree which had bent under the weight of many years of storms that had passed. They used to call it “our tree”, because the two of them would use it as a meeting point since the genesis of their relationship. Whenever they desired to meet and wanted no one else to know, they would just say, “At our tree,” and nod. The cool breeze of the air outside of the Gathering was pleasant on his blushing cheeks. Her hand in his was pleasant too, like an anchor, protecting him in this wind-whipped world. He sniffed her perspiration, more pleasant than any flower.

The smell of her brought back many memories…

Many Gatherings ago…

She took his hand in hers and led him up the hill above the Gathering. Once there, she looked for and found the highest tree on that hill. Pointing to the south, she said, “Can you see that fantastic array of Fetun Stones?” They were glowing in the distance, small dots of light illuminating the surrounding darkness.

“Yes, the priests use gems called Aiori to control the radiance of the Fetun Stones to create the appearance of the day and the night.” With his lips next to her ear he breathed, “I hope you are not an illusion, for if it were so when I awake, I would be devastated. Whoever dares to wake me up will wish that he didn’t.”

She reached up to brush his cheek with the back of her soft hand and offered, “I am no dream.” They closed the distance between their lips in a kiss that would have outshone the Fetun Stones light. As they began the lover's dance he enjoyed fragrance of her hair which was so intoxicating he had to move his head closer. In fear that she would disappear in a cloud of smoke, he passed his fingers through her silken locks. He kissed her head, her neck, and then returned to her face. Her lips were so soft; his stomach grew heavy. She jumped off the tree with wicked smile, when his fingers come to rest on her breasts. As he chased after her, a soft carpet of dry autumn leaves crunched under their bare feet. Like a mountain spring her smile echoed, bouncing off of the trees. They shed all of their clothes, running naked, wild and free. In front of his eyes, her snow white skin bleached dark branches of the trees, making them glow wherever she would pass. It was as if she was a fairy, with no wings, at least none he could see. She turned around teasing him with an unstoppable giggle. Her gentle, moving soft roundness, two perfect dark red cups on the top of the snowy hills and a secret dark place, all he ever wanted was within his reach. In one stride he reached her, like the wolf reaches the roe, she was not giggling anymore and had fully given herself to him. This was the best night in his short life. He felt the greatest pleasure known to man for the first time. Euphoric, he couldn't hear or see anything in the first few minutes, only a curtain of white mist and a perfect, uninterrupted peace. Crickets were playing their violins somewhere in the grass. She trembled. Uncertain why it was happening, he gathered wood and made a fire. She looked at him with a gaze that compelled him to return to her arms and so he went back to her. As the Fetun Stones Brightened, signaling the coming dawn, awakening him, he found her still embraced in his arms. They were one now. He had at last found the long missing piece of himself. They were separated for so long... He had grown accustomed to having a hole deep within his being; he forgot all about her. He remembered how it feels to be whole again. After he covered her with his tunic, he gathered a handful of strawberries to feed her and few dandelions to crown her as his queen. They talked for a long time. She already had the names for all of their children. He could imagine them playing in the fields bordered by silver birches, pale, with long, low hanging branches carried by a wind. The birches stood on the grass like motionless, silent girls and bathed in the weak light of Fetun Stones.

When he had shaken off these memories, she was still next to him, where she belonged. This world might not be so bad after all. She was not a dream. He kissed her tiny neck, evading the silver necklace which hung around it, thick as his finger and holding a strange stone. He said, “I never asked you about this necklace. Is it a gift from another man before us?”

She blushed, rushing to answer, “No, nothing like that. It is a gift from my mother. I told you she is a sorceress. Observe…” She pulled her composite bow made of bones and wood, out of the leather casing hanging on her belt adorned with pearls from the sea. After attaching a string to the bow, she took a single arrow from the quiver.

Subito ducked, under the impact of a terrible roaring sound, thinking one of the mighty Brigs had somehow followed them.

She pulled him up with a sneer. “Don’t be afraid. It is what this stone's does to my arrows. The stone allows my arrows to fly faster and give them the ability to spook my enemies with a roar.” Her voice switched into a storytelling tone. “This magical stone is present in every hunting legend in the known Malkene world. A few lucky ones ever possessed it. Zurbul Atwel was, according to the legend, the foremost hunter in the world. That was before the coming of the fog. He slew the white dragon spirit of ice. The kings of old hired him to eradicate the monster since she destroyed most of their villages. Years after he destroyed her, priests of her cult assassinated the mighty hunter Zurbul in his sleep. Wizards transferred images of his strange yellow eyes, considered to be a gift from the gods, onto the stones. These images of his eyes held magical properties. Whether it was because of his eyes or the stones on which images were made, nobody knows for certain.” She fell silent. After a while, she said, “We could die, you know?” She looked at him asking for reassurance in his eyes.

He vowed he would never lie to her. “Yes, we very well could.” They spent a long time in a stoic silence. The chilling breath of death was almost palpable as she whispered to them. Or was it the start of a rain? Subito rested his arm around her shoulders starting a song as they made their way down the alleys of the Gathering singing, “The time has come / The Army is ready / Oh Glorious Army of Ulan / The armor is shining / and thirsty are swords / Oh Glorious Army of Ulan / We'll rush into battle / stare death in the eye / Oh Glorious Army of Ulan / Returning as Victors / Our Heads Held High / Oh Glorious Army of Ulan…”

A few curious women stepped out from clan houses looking after them as they passed, lost in their reveries, wondering if the war had started again. Far away from them, from within the shadows, a young woman studied the couple peering through her magical stone. Mysterious smile danced on her lips.

***

The next morning Subito stood on the edge of the small meadow on the outskirts of the city. The shadow of the mighty oaken tree covered the meadow. A big group of boys and girls sat under the tree. They listened to a man who paced in front of them. The man was almost as tall and muscular as Subito, with somewhat broader shoulders. His dark brown hair was cut short to his head and his eyes were piercing cobalt. He smiled back at Subito, but did not want to interrupt his lesson to greet his sword brother. In his hands he held the opened Book of Voice. Subito’s smile vanished. As he looked at his sword brother the memories of the Blood Week came rushing back. The harsh reminder before him was always visible. Melessar had only one hand. That was the reason he could no longer serve in the King's Guard and why he was now a devoted priest of the temple and not a warrior.

Subito twisted a red ribbon tied around his right bicep, thinking, was it worth it? Red ribbon was a sign of bravery amongst Ulans even before we made the journey from the Land of Moving Hills to this island. The right question is, ‘should I be the one who is wearing the ribbon’? I didn't want to; all I wanted is to be accepted amongst the other grown up warriors. Not to have to wait till next spring, for my teachers to deem me worthy. Children are thirsty of glory. Same as every other year during the Blood Week, teachers lead students who have completed the training to the dale where the Battle of the Last Stand took place. Our teachers took the same numbers of Utrikat youths from their villages to confront us in battle. Our teacher was too old. Yes, teachers are chosen amongst veterans who can’t fight anymore, but he was so old, that he missed teaching us how to line up our ranks properly. The battle just started when the enemy captured our flag. In no time, our group retreated in disorder. The retreat was not an option for me since I was in one of my gray moods. I found the shelter under the dead bodies, to make the ambush. One lone Utrikat, which carried a stolen flag, lost his head. Then his comrades pursued me and my sword brother tried to rescue me. We had trained together since we could hold a sword. Our fathers were real brothers since they had sons of similar age they made us sword brothers. Should I say brothers by blood since the bond between sword brothers is often stronger than the bond amongst most siblings? The most important lesson we learned during our training was to protect our sword brother with our lives. We had to become a deadly duo, to fight with strength of two, but with a single mind, a unified purpose. He covered my retreat in the way he was taught and a spiked stone mace caught him in the arm. A few days later his arm was black, huge and spitting pus. Healers had to remove it to save his life. After that, he donned the white cap of a student and later when he learned enough, the red cap of the priest was the only choice left for him.

Those in front of Melessar wearing white caps of the students were not regular people either. Some were slow in spirit, and others couldn't walk and were strapped in litters on the back of their dogs. Blinds, mutes, cripples, hunchbacks, dwarfs… All studying to become priests. Less loved children of the gods who tried to find purpose while learning to serve their unloving creators. His sword brother’s accent was beautiful and manly as he read from Book of Voice.

“About the beginning.” Melessar commanded the ear of the crowd gathered before him. “In the beginning there was the Singularity. It was eternal, alone and infertile, because one cannot create anything. It occupied all of space. Once tired, it would sleep. With sleep came a dream, the mirror of reality. In the dream the Singularity saw itself and became aware that others could exist. They would look at him the same way he looked upon himself in a dream. He knew about two of him. The one which exists, and another one, living in a dream which does not. He is the lie and the emptiness. The Singularity was afraid of the emptiness which cannot exist. Fear of the emptiness can and does exist. Fear is the source of all pain. If you put your hand in a fire, the pain is your body's fear of burning. If you lose someone, the pain is fear of losing the joy you felt with them.” He looked at Subito knowing he was thinking about his mother. “The pain drove it insane and the Singularity split in half. Now there were two. They haven’t been eternal, or alone or infertile, because when there is two, something has to be in between to separate them. And this one in between is known as the third. There was something to separate the third from the first and the second - the fourth and the fifth. The Singularity disintegrated into myriad parts and time came into existence and so the death is. Time is the wind that carries pieces of the Singularity, created by the movement of division. The death is the process of self-recycling, because individual pieces of the Singularity were not eternal but as a group they were. All pieces are ruled by three simple urges. The First is to reproduce more. This urge emerged with first division. The Second is to devour all others and become the Singularity once more. Those two urges are about expanding. The Third urge is the fear of being eaten, the fear of disappearing. With division the Singularity had lost eternity. Eternity became broken the same as the Singularity. Even before division came the Singularity understood that it exists and that the other from his dreams, does not. The Singularity understood opposites, lies and truth, dreams and reality and existence and non-existence. Fear of non-existence, of emptiness, of the number zero, drove it insane. No one ever saw or experienced nothing. Nothing does not exist. There is no empirical evidence it does, but we are all afraid of it. Fear of nothingness does exist.” He closed his Book of Voice and stuffed it in the pouch hanging on his belt. Priests were clad the same as other Ulans except they did not wear armor, instead they covered their head with a red cap. “Well, students you better show your knowledge. It’s better to find holes in the knowledge now than later. Incomplete knowledge is more dangerous than ignorance. The ignorance has power to protect against curiosity. Curiosity is awakened by knowledge, but if you do not have knowledge, curiosity is deadly. So what can you tell me about the 'Interpretations of the Book of Voice' written by Priest Subito, whose name is the same as my sword brother? What was his opinion on the first four?”

A young woman jumped to her feet. Both of her hands were burned, most likely with hot oil. Subito couldn't be sure if it was an accident or caused by the hands of another human. She had red hair, like an omen of her contact with fire. Her body all in curves, perfectly shaped, except the hands, she could no longer use them.

The woman said, “He writes that the first two were night and day, dark and light, female and male, water and fire, cold and warm. Those are all their names. She gives a slow death, he says. You fall asleep feeling no pain, sometimes even pleasure. You never know if you are dreaming of death or are you already dead. He burns and kills with haste and with a lot of pains. You can’t even cry because your tears evaporate before touching your cheeks, and your eyes soon follow them. Death is quick, but never quick enough.”

“We are all aware why Red likes to read Subito's Interpretations.” A dwarf in pants and tunic dyed green smirked at Melessar's statement.

Red, not abashed by his smirk, replied in no time. “Yes, we are all aware his nickname was a bouquet of cocks, since he had twenty six mistresses next to his wife. All at the same time and none ever complained. And yes, you call me a bouquet of holes, even if I never had more than three lovers at once. Even if I had so many holes you wouldn't be able to fill any, even if you crawl inside of them. You are far too short.” Everyone erupted in laughter, all except the dwarf who turned ten shades of red. She didn't intend to stop. “Subito also wrote it is normal for a man to satisfy his appetites. And envy is also normal in those who can or dare less.”

“Red knows her Interpretations well. Now I want to hear someone else.” By the look Melessar gave her saying that, Subito knew he is one of her three men.

The dwarf was coming back with a vengeance, “If I can’t fill her nose holes, at least I can rub her nose in my knowledge. Things expand when over-used, that's why my head is so big.” Everybody laughed again. “The Third and The Fourth were earth and air. Air is a vapor of water, and earth is made of the ashes of fire. The air ignites life, and the earth suffocates it. They are life and death. Life is memory and death is oblivion. Death can be blessed at the same time as life can be cursed. Four elements are separated, but are still the same. They are just states of matter which is energy, which is the Singularity. Fire is plasma, water is liquid, earth is solid and air is gas.”

Melessar nodded and then offered, “Fire burns, but without the light there wouldn't be any life. Water drowns but also heals thirst. Everything is born from the earth and everything dies in her. The air makes the flame strong, to reduce it to ashes in the end. The Old human is a weak flame with nothing left to consume. You can go; I need to speak with my sword brother.”

As they left the meadow, Subito approached, saying, “You have many good and knowledgeable students.”

“I do, but that’s not why you have come?”

“It is best to tell you without beating around a bush. I will leave to journey to the Land of Moving Hills as a volunteer.”

“Dear Subito you know I would come with you even if I knew that it would cost me my other hand, but I cannot. I am charged with researching the meanings of the Witch Stones by the High Priest himself. He thinks my scroll, in which I state the possibility that black and white Witch Stones are connected with black and white marks on ancient weapons, might be correct. I have to visit every clan house on this island and speak with old ladies who can interpret the Witch Stones.”

“I did not intend to invite you to go with me, but to say farewell. Witch Stones you say? I remember when one of those readers visited our clan house. We were just young boys.”

“Yes, she told me I would not be whole…” he glanced at the space where his arm should be. “Just look at me now?”

“That could have meant anything. She spouted much nonsense. She told you will know the Singularity. It’s heresy!”

“Yes, and that you will become the king.”

“Like that is possible,” he said rolling his eyes. “I suppose I will fly on the wind like a Brig as well.” he said with a hint of sarcasm.

“And sleep with Utrikat. I mocked you about that one for years.”

“You will read these Witch Stones better than she does. I used to call you old witch,” Subito remembered all of the sudden.

“You used to call me old bitch witch, not the old witch.” They both doubled over in a fit of laughter at this memory.

“Little boys enjoy torturing. What else was there? Yes, you will hear the words of men who died long ago and reveal it to the world. And I will spend my youth fighting squids. Well, this part has a grain of truth in it since I will fight Lorantides.” They stood still as many moments passed, eyes searching for something lost in the distance. The feeling he searched for was no longer there and had not been for a long time.

“Farewell, sword brother!” They hugged. “I will spend my time in those clan houses preaching for your war. And as soon as I finish with my task I will come to your aid with more volunteers. This I promise.”

“It is not my plan to stay in this war forever. After a couple of battles I will win, but you can come on my victory celebration.”

“I will be happy to come to your celebration.” He tugged Subito's arm as he turned to leave. “Be patient sword brother. Remember from our teachings, the shorter road often takes you where you do not want to go. I won't be there to save you from one of your gray moods.” Subito smiled and embraced his sword brother one final time. Melessar's eyes were sad. Tears formed at the corners. He felt sorry for the events that led them to this moment, but even if he could go, he wouldn't be of much use.

Being in war requires both hands.