A Journey of a Thousand Seasons Book 1 (Journey Series) Read online

  There was no time to do otherwise.

  chapter 3

  The Ancient City of Cashmakil

  As the village prepared to flee the encroaching Orbs, Sanashei took Tenashar aside and revealed to him a small part of his destiny.

  “Sit and listen, my son, for we have time, and you need to hear this. It may alter your choice of direction when you take leave of this place.”

  Tenashar was puzzled at his father’s insistence; while he felt his time would be better spent helping people collect all they would need to flee the village, he respected his father’s wisdom and trusted his words.

  Sanashei guided his son to a huge, broken, rutted slab of rock. Father gestured to son to sit. “You know I see the future and hold the stories of the past, do you not? Not all things are found only in one direction or the other, but you need to know something I see in my visions.”

  Tenashar was puzzled. He was no child to be taught with riddles, but he sat and listened.

  “I must tell you,” the wise man began, “of a time when people of an ancient and advanced civilization grew greedy in their arrogance. They believe nothing could make them fall, for they possessed and utilized the energy of a thousand suns. They first used this power for the benefit of all peoples, to make their lives comfortable, to cure all disease, and to advance learning. At night, many of the great cities glittered like stars in the heavens. Lamps of immense power made the night a time for play. They sailed ships large enough for the entire Senetha tribe on all oceans and rivers. They had flying ships that could cover great distances in a very short time. They even created machines that looked like people to look after their needs, and the world became so wealthy that no person needed to toil.

  “These learned people turned their eyes to the sky and dreamed of visiting other planets to mine their resources and replace those of this world, which were dwindling. Wars had been fought over such things, and they would not last.”

  “Are you saying this civilization was at a higher level?” Tenashar asked.

  “Understand that history has many cycles. This particular civilization achieved a high level of technology in transportation in the sky, in space, architecture, arts, agriculture and science,” said Sanashei.

  “Are you speaking of the people who sent the Orbs?” Tenashar was anxious.

  Sanashei turned a stern eye on his son. “Listen. You will know of whom I speak when I finish my tale. If you need a name for these people, their name, the name of their greatest city, was Cashmakil.

  “These folk could not avoid conflict, for while many thought travel to the stars would solve their problems, others felt it was a foolish waste, that such travel would lead to disputes and disaster. The bickering arose among them was worse than that in a family with six children and five apples. They did reach an accord, but it was soon destroyed, and they had lost so much time in arguing that their civilization was overtaken by natural disasters and war.

  “Disheartened by the darkness that infected their world, the people once more turned their hostility against one another, and the struggle of nation against nation began again, but this time it was a fight for survival. The battle over resources grew at a ferocious rate, and powerful tribes absorbed weaker ones, but rather than caring for their weaker cousins, they merely used up their lands and knowledge just as they had used up their own.

  “You see, the people of this world understood so many things, but they cared only for themselves, as if their minds were closed off in a cave. They thought only of things they could get for themselves, not even noticing things outside their own desires until the very death of their cities.

  “The great learning and power of the Cashmakil were turned to destruction. When once they had controlled the weather to help crops and prevent disasters, they used rain, lightning, and wind to smite their enemies. They made weapons that could unleash the great energy of the sun to destroy cities and people.

  “As the destruction continued without pause, this world became an unbearable place. Crops were destroyed, the beautiful forests and grasslands were burned, and many of the achievements in the arts and scholarship were lost as those who created them were killed.

  “Other nations sent warriors to fight Cashmakil. They rained down missiles on the city, the arrows of thousands of bowmen.”

  “Like the energy spears of our warriors, which leave their hands as a shower of spikes?” Tenashar asked, partially extending his left arm outward and palm facing up and bowing his head in a respectful gesture to pardon his interruption.

  Sanashei nodded solemnly. “Like that, but magnified hundredfold. A warrior can fell a buffalo with such a spear, but these weapons felled entire cities in a single shower. The great city-nation of Cashmakil, which had once spanned the horizons, was ground to ruins. Nothing remained alive inside its broken and smoking walls—only the ashes of the dead people and animals. The only thing to walk the land were the machines that looked like people, for they did not need to breathe the scorched and poisonous air or find food in the blasted ruins.

  “Cashmakil was not the only city that died. The other city-states suffered the same fate. As time passed, there was nothing seen of these once powerful people, and some of the ruined cities crumbled into the soil, which later turned to desert.”

  After his father had paused, perhaps to indicate the end of the tale, Tenashar asked, “Father, what does this story show me? Can it help me defeat the Orbs? Are they from Cashmakil?”

  Sanashei almost smiled, but it was bitter. “You are sitting on Cashmakil, my son.”

  Tenashar did not understand this; he thought it was a riddle. He watched his father for some indication of the deeper meaning of his words. When none came, he could not remain quiet. “I do not understand. This is a strange puzzle.”

  “It is no puzzle at all. Look down,” Sanashei said, pointing to the slab on which they sat. “All these stones are the ruins of Cashmakil. Be careful when you look for something that is so close that you can sit on it and no part of you feels it but your rump. Cashmakil is the past, yes, but it is also the future. Remember the mistakes of those who have passed before so they will not be made again. If one man walks off a cliff, it would be sheer foolishness for others not to mark his road as bad, would it not?”

  Tenashar nodded, for this was evident, though he was restless to get to the end of this lesson.

  “People in the future may have similar powers to those of the people of Cashmakil. It will be as if that city-state were born again. Like the men of Cashmakil, they will learn to harness the same powers and may once again spread suffering across the planet. In the eye of my mind, I have seen their towers of steel and glass that reach far into the sky and stretch from horizon to horizon, yet none of these cities will ever capture the great splendor of Cashmakil.”

  Sanashei paused to take a deep breath. Tenashar had never seen his father stop a story that he clearly felt was so important, but Tenashar could not find the words to ask Sanashei the reason for his silence.

  Sanashei resumed. “In some ways, these people of the future will surpass Cashmakil. They will connect the world and speak to one another at great distances. They will find the way to fly into the heavens to find other worlds and spread their folk to the stars. Nothing will be out of their reach. However, they will decline, just as Cashmakil did. Their towers will crumble into the ground, and the sand will bury their cities.”

  “What will become of these distant colonies?” asked Tenashar.

  “I haven’t seen that yet. It is the cities here that must concern us.” Sanashei gave his son a long, searching look, trying to discern if he was accepting enough of this story so he would learn what he needed to know when the time came. He could not be certain, though he knew in his heart that Tenashar was smart.

  “You must understand I’m not talking about the people who will rebuild the towers and the cities in the distant future, although their powers are great. Long before the time of these new tower builders, pe
ople from the distant eastern seas may come to settle in the land we call home.

  “Perhaps when our descendants have migrated underground, or to another land, or have simply disappeared, these people I speak of will settle and change the world. They will think the land hadn’t changed in thousands of years. They won’t know we were here and had changed it before them. These newcomers won’t find much, and nothing will be salvaged, because the Orbs will have stolen the nutrients from the land.

  “For defense, the newcomers will wear armor that encases their bodies and is covered in small metal or glass scales, making them gleam and shimmer like fish in a sunny pond even when there is no light. This armor will repel anything, and the masks these men will wear will be as protective as the scales. These masks will be different and may perhaps represent different clans or nations.”

  “Why are you telling me this? It seems as though you made it up. What are you trying to say? How can anyone know what is going to happen in the future? I know of shamans who are able to perform rituals to delve into people’s lives, but this is limited to their immediate concerns, not about something in the future.”

  Sanashei responded, “You may not know the reason why I am telling you this. Just know that later in your life it may become useful to you.”

  Sanashei decided it was time to give his son some small answer to the riddle of the story. “Part of what I am trying to teach you is that I can see things in the future and the past, things that will happen, and things that may happen—and perhaps you will someday have these same kinds of visions. Do not be surprised if others won’t believe you or do not understand you when you speak to them, just as you are wondering now why I have taken this time to tell you this. Often, you will have no one to confide in. You cannot say anything to the people in the village, for they will not understand.”

  Sanashei was silent. Tenashar was impatient to finish, feeling the urgency of what had yet to be done. “Is that all that has to be said?”

  “Yes,” replied Sanashei. “The rest will come as you walk the path of life. I’ll say no more.”

  Tenashar felt deep within his heart that the events beyond his time were none of his concern, at least not in the face of the ravaging Orbs, but a voice in his soul whispered, The world has been burned a thousand times. He wondered what that meant.

  chapter 4

  Teanashar’s Friends

  Tenashar hurried to gather his things. Though the Orbs were not near, they could move very swiftly, and none could predict when they would attack his village, the greatest of the Senetha. All prepared to flee.

  He could not help but worry about his friends and loved ones. His father, he knew, was capable of dealing with this emergency, but what of his teacher, Heitac? She was ancient, and for all her great store of knowledge, she lived apart from everyone so none could influence her. She might not even know of the approaching menace. He smiled at his own concern. Of course she would know, for her wisdom was vast. Had she not taught him everything he knew?

  He had few others to be concerned about. Apart from his father and Heitac, Tenashar’s friends could be counted on a single hand, and none was a warrior. His closest friend was Tansatei, Tenashar’s companion for much of his life. She was as latently talented as he was; both had trained at the feet of Heitac. Tansatei was tall, long-legged, and on the verge of womanhood. She was still coltishly lean but starting to develop a womanly form. Her lightly tanned oval face, black hair, large eyes, strong nose, and medium-thick lips conveyed deep understanding and compassion. She had a passion for constructing mechanical and electrical devices and excelled in that activity.

  Tansatei was very much like a sister to Tenashar though they were from very different families. Tenashar didn’t worry much about Tansatei, for he knew she would have heard of the impending disaster by then. In fact, she was probably already helping the elderly of the village ready themselves for flight. They had both been taught by Heitac that helping others was central to the survival of all the Senetha. It was in this spirit of helping others that Tenashar had mended pipes that brought water from the rivers, sewed ripped clothes, repaired dwellings, served and watched the elderly, guarded the villagers at night, and helped farmers gather crops. Heitac had advised him to engage in these good deeds to strengthen his soul.

  Tenashar knew the things he had to take—garments for all the seasons. For summer, he packed shorts and a sleeveless jacket made of a white, lightweight, metal material. For winter, he chose heavy shirts and coats that reached to his ankles, strong, warm shoes, and heavy trousers. For spring, he took a tight, short-sleeved jacket. He also gathered a reading tablet, blankets, food, a lighter to make fire, a utility knife, and a long-bladed knife for protection. He took keepsakes, pieces of marble and agate crafted into images of animals and people with cords for hanging. In a special box near his sleeping pallet, he kept a very valuable rock and a mushroom, which he considered his friends.

  One night, not long before this time, Tenashar had been out late at night to watch the stars; he found his own company quite enough much of the time. He didn’t get along with the other young people because his thoughts always seemed to take him in an opposite direction. He didn’t want to be different, but there was always a struggle in his heart. At times, there was no difference between night and day for Tenashar. There was no rest for him, as he was constantly engrossed in thought, one after another. He would ponder his life and his future. Heitac had frequently told him that he would someday learn what life had in store for him and that he had to harness his dormant abilities. He had found that hard to believe even though he had indeed developed some of these talents, such as his deep understanding of the true wisdom of the animals, which allowed him to hunt so effectively despite his lack of warrior abilities. Heitac had once told him, “Your sufferings are the only thing to bring out those wonderful abilities you possess.”

  Rarely had Tenashar argued with Heitac. Deep within, he usually felt she was right. One day he told her, “Sometimes, it’s hard for me to believe suffering is a way to become good at what I am doing. This is something I don’t want to understand.”

  Heitac hadn’t answered. She’d given him just a querying look. “Are you saying you don’t want to continue with me, that you want to leave your abilities dormant?”

  Under the stars, remembering this, Tenashar also thought back to his answer, of how quickly he had apologized for his impertinence. Heitac understood him and truly encouraged him to question and think for himself, so she never would take his questions wrongly. He had sat on a rise, leaning against a tree, to watch the stars, back at that innocent time before the Orbs were more than an ancient legend and was nearly asleep when he heard a voice.

  “Tenashar,” whispered a faint voice. He had looked around but saw no one near or far. Within his sight were only the tree behind him, the long slope of the hill down, and the stars, the grass, and some rocks. He thought it was a trick or the beginning of a dream. He let himself begin to drift again but soon heard the voice again. “You are never as alone as you think you are.”

  This time, Tenashar realized the voice was coming from one of the rocks by his side. It was an ordinary rock, mottled in green and gray, no larger than his fist. He turned it over and over in his hands but found no sign of it being anything but a normal rock. He was about to toss it away, but it spoke again. “Tenashar, I am here for you. Take me with you as your friend and I will be of great help to you.”

  How can a rock be of help to me? he thought before he realized the voice was that of the rock’s spirit. He knew no spirit was greater or lesser than others, though not all spoke. He knew the spirit of the rock deserved as much respect as the spirit of the sun. This was the Rock Tenashar packed carefully in his bag. He had discovered other abilities of the Rock; it was able to burn like coal or light up like a lantern.

  The other special object was perhaps slightly stranger, a mushroom long since plucked but as alive and as vibrant as the day he had found it. One
day, while sitting and musing, which perhaps was a likely state for him to hear spirits in, Tenashar had seen the large mushroom glow and speak. “I am the Mushroom of old tales. I can tell you stories of ancient heroes long past if you give me a moment of your time.”

  Tenashar was surprised and skeptical, for who could believe a mushroom would know the stories of humankind? He realized the mushroom must have been placed there for him to find. Its color changed in acknowledgment of his thought. “You’re right in what you are thinking. I was chosen by Heitac. I am here to protect you and be a companion to the Rock. So my words may be important.”

  The Mushroom’s glow dwindled, so Tenashar brought the Rock and sat it beside the Mushroom. “What do you know of Heitac?” he asked them. For a while, neither the Rock nor the Mushroom answered. Then Tenashar saw the Rock becoming reddish purple. It said, “I have been a companion to Heitac for many years, since she was a little girl. Once I belonged to Heitac’s teacher, and have been owned by many generations before that.”

  At another quiet moment, accompanied by the two animate objects he had embraced as friends, Tenashar stared once more into the stars, when the Rock spoke quietly to him. “The stars are filled with vast wonder. Millions of tribes live amidst the stars.”

  Tenashar’s mind filled with curiosity. “Who are these tribes? Are they messengers of the gods?”

  The Rock began to glow. “Don’t be silly. People on other worlds have nothing to do with gods. They are no more messengers than your people are. They are people of a different sort.”