Confluence, Part 3
Misja, who learned medicine from Valya, who learned medicine from Deyja, who learned medicine from Nagian, who learned medicine from Maia, who tricked medicine from Vizsascha the Wyrm, watched Naja slowly shrink into the horizon -- the first of many horizons on the journey that lay ahead.
Misja was an old man. He was old and weary, and there was but one horizon before him now. Soon, when he too diminished across that boundary, he would rest with all the suns that had labored across the sky, and he would make at cleverness with the many serpents who had shed their final skins beneath those blazing orbs. Misja was a revered elder of the Sn ah'Han. He had protected his people from each lurking menace of the world. He had imparted words of hope when they were fearful, had healed their maladies when they were sickened, had tended to their bodies when their spirits wandered beyond his care. He had done these things for more seasons than he could well recall. He was old, he was tired, and soon he would rest.
But not yet.
Old and tired, Misja worried still for his people. Throughout his many years of ministering to their needs, he had found them a good people who made a good life in a hard land. Their industry centered them. Their pride buoyed them. Their respect for their traditions knit them together as a family. But of late there was discord, a growing unease within the family of the Han. Misja could not identify its root, yet the weed of division was plain to him: jealousy where there had been sharing, suspicion where there had been trust, scorn where there had been regard. Not in every glance or in every word, no, but in too many to ignore and in more every day. He perceived a sickness beginning to fester in the heart of his clan. It was unlike any malady he had yet beguiled, and all his medicine was fruitless against it.
So it was that Misja sent Naja forth, his most promising pupil, on a very different horizon quest than the young medicine man might have expected. This would be no mere journey to retrieve the feather of an eagle, or the tooth of a snake, or the claw of a bear.
"Naja, take this," Misja had said, handing him an old bow whose significance Naja knew only too well. "It was fashioned by Maia the Clever when she hunted Old Wyrm Vizsascha, in the dark days when our people were dying under the heels of the powers that roamed the land."
Naja had taken the bow with reverence. Only the elders of the Sn ah'Han had ever drawn its string.
"It is Longfang. In the hands of one who has learned its ways, it can strike across the breadth of the sky or pin a beast to its shadow. These are dark days for our people once more, Naja. You must draw Maia's bow and follow the arrow where it lands. You must do this again. And so again. You must follow the track of the arrow wherever it leads, until it leads you to the medicine that will save your people. You must be clever like Maia and learn the medicine and come back to the Sn ah'Han. Then you will be their revered elder, Naja, and old Misja will rest at last."
One thing was clear to Naja at the start of his horizon quest: he could not shoot an arrow across but a small slice of the sky. That talk was no doubt the exaggeration of the elderly. Misja was wise, but it did not stop him from being old and speaking like one who was old. Always the talk of death. Always how things had been, the way the Serpent Clan had been, when he was a younger man. Lately it seemed he spent all his hours dwelling on the Han and how they were changing. It seemed to upset him greatly. And with the time Naja now had in the company of his own thoughts, he could not help but wonder if perhaps Misja was beginning to lose his sense. After all, the revered elder had sent him out to wander aimlessly under the wild blue dome with possession of a sacred relic.
Nevertheless, by the evening of the first day of his quest, Naja's arm was sore from strain and repetition. Despite his doubts, he continued to work against the heavy draw of Maia's bow, firing his arrow into the distance and marching off in retrieval of it, until darkness descended and he could follow its arc no longer.
The second day went much like the first, the third like the second, and the fourth was not dramatically different from those prior. But late in the afternoon of the fifth day of his journey, a storm blew in unlike any Naja had previously experienced. It was raw and powerful and savage. Its winds pressed whole forests into submission, and its lightning struck through the hearts of trees that refused to be cowed. Thunder bellowed in the heavens. Water poured upon the earth as though the scrim of green and black sky had suddenly torn at its seams, releasing a hidden sea contained behind.
It was evident from the start that this was no simple rain shower that would quickly blow over. Naja began searching for some form of shelter from the elements where he could rest for the night. With more warning he might have managed to locate a small settlement with a roof to share, but nature's fury had developed quickly and he had drifted into sparsely populated lands.
With the energies of the storm gathering -- Naja's clothing was thoroughly drenched, and the winds were such that he was forced to cover his mouth in order to breathe -- he began to wonder if suitable shelter could be found. But as Naja steeled himself against the prospect of a long night at Verda's mercy, he at last discovered a small rubble-strewn cliff beside a now overflowing streambed. The rocky ledge looked like it might offer some small sanctuary from the weather. Better, as he came closer Naja could make out the silhouette of a cave opening.
He peered inside, his keen eyes probing the dark cavern for signs of habitation. It would not do to flee an angry storm only to startle a hungry bear. With a sharp gasp, Naja retreated from the entrance. Sure enough, this was some beast's den. It was a large animal, too, by the looks of it. Naja's instincts told him to retreat. Live now, die later. He would contend with the storm when that time came. Still, he was not sure. The storm was beginning to threaten a swifter death. Naja crept forward again cautiously. Perhaps with a well-placed shot from Longfang.... There was a stab of lightning. In the flash of light, Naja caught a glimpse of incongruous anatomy. This bear, or whatever it was, had human hands.
Naja chuckled as he made sense of things.
"I am a traveler seeking protection from the storm," he called into the cave, raising his voice above the din of the weather. "Will you share your shelter with me?"
There was no response. Naja stooped down and shuffled in, glad for the moment to be out of the downpour. He could see the man's body rise and fall in the slow rhythm of sleep. His attire was the strange sort of those who dwell in the cities. Beside him were several packs, bags, and cases loaded with all manner of who-knew-what. Naja could not imagine traveling so heavily encumbered.
"Friend," he said, shaking the man lightly by his shoulder. When there was still no response, he shook more sternly. "The storm has grown deadly. I must share your cave for the night."
Naja sat there, hunched on his heels, peering intently at the sound-slumberer. He squinted. The young man appeared to have plugged his ears with wax, not that he seemed troubled by light sleep. "Thank you for your generosity," Naja said at last. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you."
With that, the medicine man cleared a spot near the cave entrance of any sharp rocks, removed his sopping garments, and stretched out upon the floor. He reached into a small pouch fastened around his neck by a thin leather lace, gingerly withdrawing a black-and-gold-scaled snake approximately a foot in length. Naja set the snake on his bare chest and gently stroked its head with his index finger.
Ah, low belly, here is a day better behind us than before us, he thought.
Suddenly there was a clatter within the cave. His quiver of arrows, propped against the wall, had tumbled over and spilled its contents. Startled by the noise, Naja flinched and immediately wished that he hadn't. The snake on his chest struck swiftly, too fast for Naja to avoid. He felt the fangs enter the tender flesh between his finger and thumb, discharging their potent venom.
Naja froze.
His mind raced, but he kept his body calm, knowing that frantic motion would only hasten whatever misfortune was to come. If enough venom had been released, he would not need to brood over it for long. He would be dead before he could grow too upset. And there was not much to be done in any case. He would attempt to suck from the wound what poison he could. He would do that just as soon as he could steer his hand to his mouth. For now, the snake had slithered up his chest and draped itself across his throat. Naja strained to focus. His sight was terribly blurry at this close proximity. Or perhaps death was soon upon him.
The snake rose up, peering directly into Naja's eyes, its forked tongue darting in and out. The head, a black hood wreathed in gold, seemed to fill his world it was so large. The jaw lowered to reveal the offending fangs, a bead of venom suspended from the tip of one. It was a fitting death vision, Naja thought, as his eyelids became too heavy to suspend.
Naja.
The medicine man's eyes bobbed open. Yes, this was the end. The poison must have reached his brain. He could swear the snake had addressed him. But it had changed, hovering now, giant in proportions, supple and assured in its motion, with incomprehensible intellect gleaming in its eyes. The periphery of his vision had faded into a vague glow, so that the snake appeared to be molting light from its scaly skin. A foreboding hiss sounded in his ears, perhaps the noise of Naja's soul escaping his body.
Naja let his eyes sag shut again, amused by the strangeness of his death.
Naja.
He slowly lifted one lid and then the other. It seemed as though he should be dead by now, but the aspect of the snake, impressive and peculiar, still persisted. It regarded him with a look of expectation.
"Yes?" Naja asked tentatively, unsure how to proceed.
Naja. You venture into great danger. You are small and underfoot. You have no wings. You have no feet. You have no hands.
"I hear you, o ... magnificent ... serpent," Naja said, not completely in agreement and searching clumsily for words.
Naja. Those around you are large and reckless where they tread. They do not want you in their homes. They do not want you in their fields. They do not want you in their woodpiles.
It seemed he should say something. "Yes, you speak truly," he replied.
Naja. They will cleave you with their plows. They will burn you with their fires. What will you do? Where will you crawl?
A chill stole over him. This was growing morbid. It was not how he hoped to be welcomed into the afterlife certainly. "Advise me, O Shrewd Beguiler! What must I do?"
Naja.
He waited for the answer to follow, but it did not come.
Naja.
The light was fading, and his vision was growing dim. The words of the serpent seemed to echo from a distance. Naja strained. This was an inopportune time to die. "Yes! I am listening...."
Naja. In the company of the blind one who can see, you will find your medicine. In the company of the blind one who can see, you will find your way.
"Thank you, Cleverest-of-All. Thank you for guiding me. I will do as you say."
The instructions repeated in his mind as the world grew black and the hissing became a great rushing clamor. Naja felt dizziness overtake him. He was falling, falling, not from or towards anything, but simply falling. When he landed his thoughts scattered from him like shattered glass, and then there was only silence.
