The Bride of the Balubalaban

[Auman]

It was early morning, the sun rising to burn away the thick mist that clung to the floor of the valley of Paluwesi, home of the Paluanesi tribe and the village that shared their name. Here, the forest was thick and littered with the sound of tropical birds greeting the day. The village, too, was energized as this day marked the first of spring and the end of the rainy season. Crops were to be planted, but not before the ceremony. As had happened every year for the last century, the offering was to be made at the Tomb of the Balubalan.

"Nayira, you look sad. What is the matter? Today is a happy day! You are to be offered as the Bride of the Balubalaban... Imagine your delight when he accepts you!" Tittered the old spinster, Malaya, who was once a bride herself.

"If the Balubalaban comes, which he never does, this could be the happiest day of my life." Nayira said, her nerves fraying the edge of her voice as Malaya combed her hair. The other brides were making themselves busy, preparing for the rites.

Herna was weaving a crown of bright flowers, purple Jernae and bright red Olomau mostly, as was tradition. While Malaya worked Nayira's hair into a glossy, smooth, sheet of black velvet with her pearl handled comb, Zemnua dappled the new Bride of the Balubalan's skin with a sponge inundated with warm watered buffalo milk.

"Today is an important day." Said Herna, smiling as she threaded the stems of flowers together, sitting in front of Nayira, their knees touching. "Today is the day, beyond all else, that you join our sisterhood. One woman each year, selected to wed the man who would save the world. It's splendid, I'm so excited."

"The feast will be so wonderful, Nayira, it always is." Malaya's words were meant to smooth over the fact that the solstice would mark the first day of the end of her life.

The Balubalaban had never taken a wife, he never showed his face and if he did not do so, as he had so many times before, Nayira would be a spinster for life... Never allowed to marry or begin a family because she had been betrothed to a man she was starting to believe didn't even exist. Such was her lot in life, married against her will to a concept. A living sacrifice to the God of Good Harvests. This was a great honor for her family, a tradition of her village that could not be broken in this age, but it was a raw deal for her.

The sheet partition of the tent parted and the wizened face of the village elder peaked inside, "Nothing going on here that an old man shouldn't see, is there?"

Palaudarad, the old pervert, was trying to catch a peak at the bride... But having learned the seasonal lesson in her own youth, Malaya had started by dressing Nayira in the vibrantly white, flowing, dress of the Brides first, so that she could maintain her dignity before being presented to her betrothed Balubalaban.

"All is well, Palaudarad, all is well. Come and take a seat, but not too closely to Nayira now... She is to be married soon. Perhaps you could sit by me?" Herna patted the pillow on the floor next to her and the Elder sat, slowly. Herna and Palaudarad had become close since the passing of Jilaya, wife of the Elder. It was lascivious to Malaya that they carried on like this, but she knew that she was only jealous... Before being betrothed to the Balubalaban, Malaya had been fond of Palaudarad and hated Jilaya viciously for taking him as her husband. She was too old now to be jealous, but Palaudarad was apparently not too old for Herna... Such a distance in age between these two.

"So, everything is in order then? We are leaving soon, for the tomb." The Elder asked, watching too intently as Zemnua bathed Nayira's caramel skin with milk.

"Yes, we're just finishing up now." Herna said, tying the last few knots of the floral crown and placing it atop the gently folded and gleaming white garments, which were to be presented to the Balubalaban.

"She is purified now." Added Zemnua in a, shy, mousey voice. She was always the most demure of the brides and second youngest, having only been offered last year. Nayira felt she didn't have the character to please the Balubalaban, if he were to come to her, dangerously introverted and not at all intellectual. You cannot keep a prophetic ruler with your looks, not alone. Yes, Zemnua was very beautiful and some say more so than Nayira, but she wasn't strong. While Nayira was too modest to say it herself, she was a stronger person than Zemnua and that was her asset, she had always been a leader.

Beyond the canvas tent the drums began to tap out the rhythm of precession, so it was time to begin. Palaudarad clapped his leathery hands together and stood shakily, Herna taking some of his weight by the elbow. Zemnua and Malaya stood as well, offering their hands to Nayira who accepted them nervously. Strong as she was, Nayira worried about how she would conduct herself before the village and kin that had come from all around the valley for the wedding. She had memorized her lines from the moment she could speak them, she knew her role in this intimately, mouthing the words silently as Zemnua spoke them a year before, but she couldn't shake the feeling of fear. What if she stuttered or, gods forbid it, her knees gave way like jelly, as with what happened to Aeira long ago?

No, she resolved, this is what she was here to do, her choice or not. She will do the best that she can. She took up the folded clothes and the crown of flowers and they stepped beyond the tent to see the tribe watching her. The red dirt road was overflowing with people, excited to see her, and this only made her more nervous.

"Paluanesi, our tribe is the strongest and soon it shall be a kingdom!" Called out Palaudarad, stretching his arms toward the sky. The people roared, "Yes, our tribe is the strongest! Nayira shall bring us to destiny!"

This was the sign and Nayira began the march down the track to the Tomb of the Balubalaban. It was a long walk, forty five minutes all told, snaking through the village at first and then up the steep hillside, through winding paths that took them into the jungle. Pipes and drums announced their coming and howler monkeys lent their voices to the Palaunesi, singing the song of the solstice. For Nayira, the hike was over in an instant, her mind racing and playing through the variables, reciting the lines which she was to speak and then anticipating the disappointment as the doors of the tomb, inevitably, did not open.

They arrived in a great clearing of the forest, standing before a shear cliff of naked grey, split down the middle by a set of stone doors a hundred times as tall as the tallest man in the village. Beset about them in a circle were carved white statues of therianthropes, representing the twelve gods of their village and one standing in the center, who stood in place of the Balubalaban, granite and sparkling with shards of quartz, the only one or the megaliths sculpted in the appearance of a man, facing the doors of the tomb. Beside it was a podium upon which she now stood.

The crowd began to quiet itself, the good cheer and joviality making way for the solemn ritual now taking place.

Nayira placed the clothes and crown of flowers down upon an alcove set inside the statue of the Balubalaban and knelt before it, kissing its feet and looking up into its face, which was weathered with tremendous age. She pushed her palms together in front of her face and prayed silently to herself, then stood and began to climb the steps to the tomb.

The great doors were shut so tight that you could not even fit a razor blade inside the slight crack that separated them. The momentum of the situation struck her in the gut and Nayira almost gave in to panic.

How am I to please the Balubalaban, how could I ever be worthy? I am not. No one is worthy.

Nayira turned to face her tribe, resolved, and begun reciting the words...

"Great Balubalaban, He who has come from heaven... Star Man, the bringer of a new age, hear my call! I am Nayira, daughter of Palauondonderon and I am to be your wife, if only you'll take me-"

Almost imperceptibly at first, Nayira could hear... Scraping? As if stone was grating upon stone. At first it was merely an annoying distraction, that set to spoil her rites, but very quickly it turned into a loud rumble. She faced the doors of the tomb, which now parted before her.

Palaudarad scrambled up the steps with Malaya, Zemnua and Herna in toe. Before long, the entire tribe had joined them, murmuring in amazement and wonder. This had never once happened, not once in the 12,000 year history of the Paluanesi.

"The words girl, the words!" Stammered Palaudarad, drowned out by the cacophony.

As light crept into the tomb, it revealed much and a man stood before them, a giant head and shoulders above any before him. His skin was pale and his muscles were large and corded with strength. His angular face was contorted, at first by the searing of the light upon his eyes and then with confusion... And then with shame, as he was naked.

"H-Herna, gather his garments!" Shouted Palaudarad, shoving her toward the crowd. She did as she was told, but not before casting a glance over her shoulder.

"Balubalaban! I am Nayira, daughter of Paluaondonderon and I am to be your wife, if only you take me!" Nayira stepped forward, ahead of Palaudarad. Herna materialized suddenly and placed the garments in Nayira's hands and she offered them to the Balubalaban. He accepted and the village began to cheer wildly, which only confused the Balubalaban more. His eyes widened and darted from face to face, finally settling on the determined gaze of Nayira who came closer to him, with her palm facing outward with a gentleness.

She saw him now, as a man... An amazing, beautiful, God of a man, but a man with his own vulnerabilities and fears. She could see it in his expression that he was afraid. Nayira would calm him.

"You are safe. Focus, Balubalaban, on me."

He was breathing heavily, but when he focused on her and her alone, the rest of the world faded away. He felt a sense of relief washing over him. Relaxation. Serenity.

"What is this place?" Asked the Balubalaban.

"It is your kingdom," Nayira said, these words not at all rehearsed or prepared, "and I am your queen."

[Auman]

The walk back to the village was a mix of stunned awe, wonder and excitement. Those closest to the Balubalaban could only stand to watch in reverent silence. Those further away jostled for a view of the living God, who was perched on a donkey cart, cushioned with straw. Nayira walked alongside, her eyes fixed forward and seeing nothing as her mind raced and she focused on breathing.

The Balubalaban was completely out of it, his head rolling with every bump in the winding track, eyes blinking in long swipes. At times he would look into the canopy of trees overhead, reacting to the curious chirps of brightly colored birds. The howler monkeys followed the villagers, observing and circling their mouths, as if to call out, and saying nothing, they were as unsure of themselves as Nayira.

Zemnua trailed the cart and her gaze never left the Balubalaban. Malaya noticed the red in her cheeks... Was she blushing? Was it out of jealousy? Malaya could understand the feelings that must be coursing through her now at this moment, for even she felt them herself. All Brides of the Balubalaban were raised with the hope that they would be the one to take him as theirs, worse yet for Zemnua that she had missed the opportunity by a single year. Malaya had decades to come to terms with her position, the younger bride, who had been left standing at the altar, must have felt cheated.

Palaudarad stood opposite of Nayira, babbling at the Balubalaban like a servant wishing to please their master.

"It is a great honor to finally see you Balubalaban, we hope that your reception was pleasing to you. Our village is modest, but our tribe has many delights to offer you. While we have not yet begun to plant this years harvest, there is much left over from the rainy season and this years feast shall be tremendous!" Palaudarad began.

"Do you..." started the Balubalaban. Palaudarad craned his head closer to the cart, his words came out low and grunting.

"Do you have water?"

"Yes Balubalaban! How foolish, I should have presumed, your travels... They have left you weakened! Palauntyr, your canteen!" Palaudarad clapped his hands together and summoned the village warrior with a flick of his wrist.

Palauntyr trotted forth from the crowd, his black dragonskin armor rattled with plasticity, and presented a large leather flagon which the Balubalaban accepted eagerly and drained with impressive haste.

"More..." uttered the Balubalaban.

"Our Lord is thirsty, who among us can provide for him?" Paluantyr called out, his voice was crisp and confident. The crowd surged forward, throwing their own flasks to Palauntyr, many of which he caught and even more missing completely, falling to the ground.

"Thank you, Paluanesi, you make me proud!" Cried Palaudarad as Palauntyr handed water to the Balubalaban, which he drank eagerly.

Nayira cautioned a glance at him, his hands were shaking.

"You must be hungry." She asked, her voice on the edge of cracking.

"I could eat... A horse..." said the Balubalaban. His throat no longer parched by thirst, his words came smoothly and Nayira found him to have a pleasant voice. Not so deep as his great size would suggest, but masculine still, though with a shake perhaps caused by hunger.

"We have no horses in the valley," Nayira said, "but if it would please you, we could find one."

"I shall bring you the finest horse and slaughter it for you myself, Balubalaban!" Zemnua said, uncharacteristic was the confidence and clarity with which she spoke. Malaya shot Zemnua daggers, as if saying with her eyes 'Do not dare upstage Nayira, this day belongs to her.' Zemnua looked away remorsefully.

"No, that's fine, it's just an expression."

"If the Balubalaban wishes to eat a horse, we shall provide." Said Palaudarad.

The Balubalaban shook his head, "It was just a joke, don't worry about it."

"Our Lord has a sense of humor!" Cackled Palaudarad awkwardly.

The cart came to the edge of the village and smoke from the cooking fires wafted over them. The matrons who had stayed with the little ones to prepare the feast had no idea what happened at the the tomb. Yerta, eldest of the matrons, was focused on stirring a vast pot of ratatouille and only glanced up in time to see the massive form of a man passing by her in a donkey cart.

"It is he, the Balubalaban has come!" Shouted an excited teenaged girl and Yerta, a woman not know for theatrics, fainted on the spot. The other matrons were frozen in place, only brave Palauntyr came to help Yerta back to her feet.

Palaudarad seized upon a bushel of bananas and thrust them onto Nayira's breast, "Feed your husband! Get in the cart!"

Nayira, always so confident, climbed in with the Balubalaban hesitantly. Her hands were trembling as it all struck her at once. She was overstimulated and felt an unbearable urge to run away. The Balubalaban took the bananas and peeled one, devouring it rapaciously... And then another... And another... Before long, they were all gone and she was just sitting there, watching this man, his face returning to color and his awareness returning with each bite. The improvement was immense, his body was tightening, no longer so slack. His gaze became aware, dark eyes glimmering as if a torch burned within him.

"I could go for some more, if you don't mind."

"Balubalaban, we have arrived, the feast is ready." Said Palaudarad.

"Thank God." Said the Balubalaban, hefting his immense bulk from the cart. Nayira shuffled out and offered him a steadying hand which he accepted, though the weight she bore was overpowering and he fell backwards with a crash, pulling her down with him.

"Balubalaban..." said Herna in a sultry tone, "please contain your lust until after the feast!"

"Herna!" Crowed Malaya.

The village laughed, though Nayira was not so amused. The Balubalaban apologized.

Nayira's shoulder throbbed, it was nearly removed from its socket by the Balubalaban. She realized that he must be five times her size, a giant by any standard, towering above even those that dwelt in the cities. He was dangerous, but even so, when he looked into her eyes, she felt safety in them.

He was assisted into his throne by Palaudarad, Palauntyr and the Brides. His steps were unsure and tottering, like a child first beginning to walk. When the feast was presented, he waited patiently to be served and controlled himself, eating graciously.

"Music!" Called Palaudarad and soon the drums and pipes played spritely songs. The greatest party of their lives had begun. The Balubalaban stripped an entire suckling pig and consumed heaping piles of rice and vegetables. Nayira's plate went untouched, she had no appetite. She sat to his left, Palaudarad and Palauntyr flanking to his right. The Elder did his level best to keep him entertained.

"The Paluanesi have always been faithful to you, Lord Balubalaban. We have maintained your lands for several ages and kept with the traditions laid down by you upon the foundation."

"The foundation..." said Balubalaban thoughtfully, as if trying to recall something. "My journey was long and difficult, Palaudarad, I'm having trouble remembering."

"We will do everything it takes to assist you." Came the voice of Zemnua.
The Balubalaban nodded gratefully, "Thank you, I appreciate everything you have done so far. Your tribe has been amazing. I am in awe of your hospitality."

Someone in the lower dining area, below the dais of honored guests, heard this and jumped up on his table, shouting "And we are in awe of you, Great Balubalaban!"

"We are in awe of you!" Shouted the tribe raising their drinks to the sky.

Palauntyr chuckled and lit a cigarette. The Balubalaban's nose caught fire with the aroma, his heart pulsed.

"What is that?"

Palauntyr was unsure, "It's tobacco my Lord, a cigarette."

"Can I have one?" Asked the Balubalaban. Palauntyr threw him a fresh pack and a lighter.

Palaudarad gestured insistently at Nayira, "Go, light your husband's cigarette!"

Nayira had never smoked a day in her life. For all the training and preparation to become a Bride, no one had ever considered that a living god would be interested in such a disgusting habit. Nayira lifted the pack and carefully unwrapped it, taking the butt into her mouth. She fumbled with the lighter, though she soon had it going.

"You put the flame to the end of it and breathe in, Lady Nayira." Palauntyr said, always courteous. She did as instructed and coughed violently as soon as the smoke touched her lungs. The large hand of the Balubalaban massaged her back with surprising gentleness. Nayira's eyes were watering as she handed the cigarette to the Balubalaban.

"I'm sorry for that." He said softly.

"No need, Balubalaban, I am here to please you." Nayira said.

He shook his head, "Nothing and no one compels you to serve me, Nayira. Everything you and your people have given me is a gift that I shall treasure. Thank you for teaching me, I feel that I can do this on my own now."

Nayira was conflicted, she was sitting aside a living God who was so powerful, this was obviously true from his size alone, but he was also gracious and kind. So different from the men in her village, but most similar to Palauntyr, who had taken his oath as a warrior and was thus constrained by a strict moral code. As she came to this realization, as the Balubalaban smoked and chatted idly with Palauntyr, the similarities in their demeanor were astounding. Even the way they gestured, with a flat hand that took the shape of a blade, was the same. The Balubalaban, their god of good harvests and the bringer of the new enlightened world, was also a warrior.

This fascinated Nayira, but the realization also filled her with sadness.

[Auman]

The night had been difficult for the Balubalaban. After the feast, his spirit seemed to drain as rapidly as it had been restored. He retired early to the tent and collapsed on a pile of pillows, smooth canvas stuffed with barley from the fields... The best the village had. The Balubalaban was drenched with sweat, writhing in agony, his limbs twisting and his fingers clenched like the claws of an eagle. This went on for hours and Nayira couldn't sleep, kneeling by his side and just watching him struggle. There was nothing that she could do to help him.

What would it mean, if he were to die... For the tribe and for me?

Just as the morning sun crested the horizon, the Balubalaban's torment ended and his rest became peaceful. It was at this time that Nayira lay next to him, placing her ear over his heart. It was vigorous and strong. She felt that the worst of it was over.

She drifted off to sleep to the sound of beating heart and dreamed of the future. She and the Balubalaban, standing together on the balcony of the Crystal Spire in Jenovah-Hysperia. Her Balubalaban was addressing the crowds below, millions crammed into the Foundational Square to hear her love and see their queen. They respected the Balubalaban and adored him. Their sons and daughters stood respectfully behind them, so many children, dressed finely in the black and white imperial regalia that she had seen in magazines about Reman high society. Their hair was cut and styled in a cosmopolitan way that also respected their tribal roots... And the Paluanesi would be front and center amongst the throng, beaming with pride for their queen.

The dream was so vivid that, when the Balubalaban stirred her awake, it took a moment to realize that it hadn't been real. Not yet, anyway. Her Balubalaban stared down at her and she returned it with bleary eyes, rugged and sleepful. He searched her face, to him she was nothing but a stranger. Nayira pushed herself off of him and sat straight as a bolt.

"Balubalaban, I..."

He held up his hand and said "It's alright."

The Balubalaban sat up himself, wiping his burly palm across his sweat soaked forehead, "Every muscle in my body feels like it's on fire."

"Your body has paid a deep toll for its journey." She touched his arm, he flinched and recoiled.

"My skin is sensitive... Your fingertips. It's like I've never been touched before, like I'm fresh from the womb."

Nayira wondered at that and said "Maybe it wasn't a tomb at all that you have risen from, but a womb of the earth from which you were born?"

"I still have some vague recollections. My memories are weak, but they're returning, so I'm no infant. A man with amnesia in an uncalloused body. I need to challenge myself if I'm to become who I'm meant to be, Nayira. Can you please call for the cart?"

"Why, Balubalaban? You should rest longer!"

"No, I must return to the tomb. It will hold clues for me."

Two sharp claps resounded from beyond the tent flap, "Palauntyr, bring the cart, the Balubalaban commands it!"

"Palaudarad!" Malaya scolded. It was now obvious that they were not alone, though what privacy existed in so small a village? Nayira knew better.

Palaudarad's head crept slowly through a gap in the flap, "Lord Balubalaban, it is a pleasure to see you so well!"

"Come in, Elder, don't be a stranger in your own land. I am the guest here." The Balubalaban's voice was dry. Before Palaudarad could clap his hands, Nayira quickly poured a drink for her husband from a clay vessel. It was watered wine, fermented with mangos and passion fruit. It was disgusting, but the Balubalaban accepted graciously. Nayira lit him a cigarette and he smoked it thoughtfully.

"This experience has been difficult for me. Once again, I thank you Palaudarad." Said the Balubalaban.

"It has been an honor for us. More than you know, Balubalaban. Our tribe has waited for this moment. Twelve thousand years, give or take. Hopefully Nayira is a pleasing wife, she is above all our greatest gift to you, Lord Balubalaban." Palaudarad sounded like an obsequious hotel proprietor more than a learned elder.

The Balubalaban's brow furrowed and it came to Nayira that no one had ever mentioned this to him in a lucid state. She felt foolish now, would he even accept her with a conscious mind? She studied him, her heart was fluttering in her chest like the wings of a hummingbird and the feeling of dread and rejection flooded her veins. She sighed in relief when he didn't outright deny her, but her heart was left hanging with an abrupt change of topic.

"The tomb, Palaudarad, has anyone been inside of it since it opened?"

"No, Balubalaban, Palauntyr has assigned his most trustworthy militiamen to protect its sanctity. It is indisturbed, though not unwatched. A number of our kin returned after the feast to camp and perhaps catch a glimpse of what's inside."

"That's good," said the Balubalaban, "I don't think it would be safe to enter. Not now. Not until I've had a look at it first."

The trot of a braying donkey could be heard just outside. The Balubalaban pushed himself off the ground, finished his drink and stubbed his cigarette on the timber beam of the tent.

"Alright, I just need to brush my teeth and change my clothes before we can head out."

Nayira and Palaudarad were exchanging quizzical glances.

"Beg your pardon, Lord Balubalaban?" Palaudarad asked.

"About the clothes or the teeth?"

"The teeth." Palaudarad flashed a toothless smile and it became clear to the Balubalaban in an instant.

"Oh, in my culture, tooth brushing is a morning ritual. It improves your health and freshens your breath."

"Such sophisticated ways!" Marveled Nayira.

"Yes, well, we have no such means in our humble village, Lord Balubalaban. Fresh garments shall come to you forthwith!" Palaudarad clapped his hands brusquely, "Nayira, fresh clothing for our Lord Balubalaban!"

Nayira scowled at the old man, but still she did as he said.

Palaudarad scuttled out of the tent. Nayira remained as the Balubalaban held his neatly folded outfit. She hated herself for blushing, it was exhilarating to be alone with him at last while his mind was keen.

"Nayira, may I have some privacy?" Said the Balubalaban. The words struck Nayira like a fist.

"Balubalaban, it is alright, I don't mind."

"But I do, this isn't appropriate."

Nayira's throat tightened and she was breathing by her own will, "Balubalaban, I am your wife."

"Yes... This is the custom of your tribe and I respect your beliefs, but I-"

"You don't even know me." Nayira finished for him. The Balubalaban nodded remorsefully, he didn't want to hurt her and she could sense that. She turned her back to him and crossed her arms, she hoped that it would imply strength... That she was not bothered by his words, but she knew that it was just to keep her arms from trembling. Here is the rejection she feared.

"I won't say anything to Malaya. Tell her what you must to appease her sensibilities. Continue to play your role, but the customs of my people must be respected as well and I cannot simply take a woman given as a gift. Do you understand, Nayira?" The Balubalaban's words were firm, though soft enough in her ears. Still, her feelings dominated her senses.

"Yes, Balubalaban, I serve to please my Lord." She said coldly.

[Auman]

Nayira hadn't spoken to the Balubalaban since their last conversation and he didn't want to press her on it. They had been walking for some time up the winding paths to the temple, Palaudarad was talking incessantly and Herna chattered along with him. Palauntyr flanked them all, with a firm hand on the pommel of his blade. The forest was surprisingly quiet, unnerving almost. The Balubalaban was aware of it and watched every unmoving shadow closely. In time, they came upon the clearing. Sound returned to the world as children danced and played at the foot of the monoliths as their parents picnicked. The sky was clear and blue, the sun was shining into the archways of the temple, revealing a grievous heresy to Palaudarad who began to shout.

"What have you done?!" Palaudarad was waving his arms frantically, shuffling his old bones as fast as he could move them up the great granite staircase that led into the temple. The village militiamen that stood guard at the doors with their sharpened bamboo poles waved dismissively at the old man.

"Some of the people decided to leave flowers, is it really so bad?" Said one of the Militiamen, Kopalaua the Brooksman, who had taken it upon himself to speak.

"The tradition is very clear, we must not interfere with the temple, it is forbidden and look... Children have clearly played here and... AND PAINTED THE WALLS!" Palaudarad was launching himself into hysterics at the sight of colored chalk drawings of flowers, fighting cats and other animals.

"Elder Palaudarad, it isn't paint, it will wash right off." Said Kopalaua assuringly.

The Balubalaban joined them, laughing as he took in the sight. Palaudarad was fuming and nearly shouted at His Lord before catching himself and apologizing obsequiouly.

"Don't worry, Elder. It hurts nothing." Said the Balubalaban joyously.

Palaudarad's mood eased and the red quickly drained from his cheeks. "Balubalaban, if you are not concerned then neither am I."

"See, Elder, it is nothing." Sniped Kopalaua.

"I've had just about enough of your mouth, Brooksman!" Palaudarad dived into another tirade as the Balubalaban quietly bypassed them and moved into the temple.

The dark space inside was lit sparingly by the glow of daylight. Many beautiful flowers were arrayed about his tomb and the Balubalaban stepped spryly so as not to disturb them, making his way to a short plinth that stood about four feet off the ground. His hand hovered over it and he made a number of deft gestures with his thick fingers. Soon, seemingly to Nayira, Zemnua, Malaya and Herna, the massive man started to dance with his eyes fixed upward toward the ceiling. The villagers and children had gathered at the archways and watched in stunned silence.

The Balubalaban clapped his hands together and uttered a phrase in an alien language. Suddenly, a glowing orb appeared above them all. He drew it down from the air and shrunk it so that it fit in the palm of his hand and brought it to Palaudarad, flattening it like a ball of dough. He showed it to the old man and asked "Do you recognize any of this?"

Palaudarad looked at the blue sheet in amazement and wonder before saying, "Are these rivers here?" The old man traced gently curving lines with his arthritic fingers. The Balubalaban nodded and snapped his fingers, which changed the sheet to represent mountains, hills and something that was unknown to Palaudarad, in three dimensions.

"These are the Paluangheti mountains, they lie to the west of here."

"What is to the North?" Asked the Balubalaban.

"The largest curve of the Paluawhetty River, here."

Another snap of his fingers and the image oriented itself in the correct direction. "This is a map of the region." Continued the Balubalaban, "As seen from orbit. The sky high above."

The crowd was awestruck.

"He truly is a god! He has the sight of heaven!"

"Of course he's a god, idiot. He's the Balubalaban!"

Palauntyr silenced them with a fierce glare.

"What are these? They look like tree trunks, but are far too tall." Asked Nayira, breaking her silence.

"They're buildings that stretch high and up into the sky. I believe this is the Foundational City and it's where I must go." Said the Balubalaban in a low tone.

Palauntyr scowled, "It is on the other side of the Desolate Lands, controlled by the Clattering Ones. Very dangerous country that we have not been able to penetrate for a generation, not since great plumes of smoke consumed the tree tops. Any that attempt to take this short cut are never heard from again. We have been receiving supplies, like these cigarettes and the spicy water, by way of the long trek south."

It was now the Balubalaban's turn to scowl, "Tell me about these Clattering Ones?"

"They wear armor much like my own, but smooth and quite thicker. Their helms resembling buckets, their masks possessing red eyes like that of a demon and their bows spit arrowheads faster than the eye can see while tearing the air asunder. Many of our militia fell trying to fight them. Now we simply avoid these beasts, hoping they never cross the Paluawhetty."

"They're savages, but powerful nonetheless." Added Palaudarad.

The Balubalaban's eyes traced the throng of villagers before coming to rest on Nayira.

"I need to get to the Foundational City as soon as possible. There can be no delay."