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Brit Denmore was twenty two years old and if he had been a little younger he might have been excited by the fact that today was his birthday. But the day held little for him in the way of anticipation or surprise as it had done in the years of youth. Or so he thought. The ceremony of Dakis was to take place later in the day, when he would once again swear his commitment to the ways and renew his silence of faith.
Looking in the mirror scape he saw that he looked only a little like his mother and nothing at all like his father. 'Green hair,' he said in direction of the mirror scape. Immediately his image in the scape was adorned with a head of green hair. On most occasions playing with the scape would have encouraged at least a little grin, but today he was not given to amusement, and he did not smile. Today something had changed and he didn't know what.
Outside he heard the noise of the Collection and went out to look. When he was younger he had witnessed the Collection without the least suspicion or real interest. It was a part of his youth and it happened every fortnight. Only when a little older and the curiousness of adolescence was upon him did he question what was going on. That was when father had visited him and had explained the Collection to him, that it was only a symbolic gesture, but that many years ago, many more than anyone could imagine, there had been the first Collection. And this time it had been more than a symbol. Brit had asked where they found the books to burn.
"There aren't any left," said his father. "The last one was burnt a long time ago. The millers make up the books to burn, but they are blank, they have nothing in them. It is the symbol that matters."
The Collection always started the same way. All the dravs in the village, about forty people in all, met in the square. They would split into two groups. The first group would come up to the others in a dance, where they hummed and moved to hidden music. This went on for some time until a older man in the second group would hand over a book. Then the dancing and the humming both stopped. There were loud cries and then the frenzy would begin in which twenty or so books would be ripped to pieces, then finally the fire lit and the books burnt. Then all would return to their work.
The year after next Brit would become a drav and would be expected to join the dance. Instead of the eagerness his colleagues had for becoming a drav he was filled only with apathy for the idea.
Behind him as he stood at the doorway, looking at the square, watching the ashes of the fire float skyward, he heard movement , then a voice bidding him wealth of heart.
"Sikati," said Brit, turning to face his older brother. "It is good to see you."
"And you too, my friend. Today you age. Tomorrow you might die, but today you live. Why the sadness in your eyes? Is not Allucia coming to visit you today? Is not the ceremony of Dakis this afternoon?" He mouthed the last question with a great deal of sarcasm.
"The two events are hardly related, and only one brings me joy. And little at that."
"You are wrong Brit', said Sikati, 'the events are very much linked. An acceptance of Alluscia is an acceptance of the ways of Dakis. Love Alluscia and love Dakis. Do not love Alluscia and still you must love Dakis."
Sikati was the happiest of men, always armed with a witty comment or a flippant remark. But no-one was ever angry at Sikati, that was just the way he was. Perhaps they felt sorry for him. They used very little machinery to farm with, and only one combustion engine in the district had ever worked, until it was smashed beyond repair by angry dravs, who claimed it was Dakis' will the machinery was destroyed. The use of a metal plough, dragged by a horse, was permitted, and there were a fair number of mirror scapes around, though it was argued these were not machines but the mirror of men's minds. Sikati had lost his left arm, up to the elbow, and rumour had it that he had lost it in the explosion of the combustion engine.
Certainly when he was younger he had both arms, and there were many contemporaries who told stories of how athletic Sikati had been in the hunt. Even with just one arm he beat many of the younger men, with his agility and quickness of eye. The topic of his missing arm was something that was never spoken of in his presence, though it made for long drawn out conversation among Brit and his friends when Sikati was not around.
The two men went for a walk together. Brit liked Sikati's company. He always improved his mood, which of late had been low. And today it seemed at it's lowest.
"I remember my twenty second birthday." Sikati said to his younger brother. They were standing on top of the Pit hill. It had the best view in the district, and on a clear day, you could see almost a mile before the mists obscured anything beyond that point.
"What's beyond that?" Said Brit pointing towards a forest of dead looking trees. The forest was talked about in local stories and it was rumoured strange noises could be heard from it at certain times of the year, times when the monster who lurked there fed. Every year, on his birthday, Sikati and Brit would take the short walk to the top of the Pit hill. Every year Brit would ask his brother the same question. And every year his brother gave the same answer: "Nothing."
Except this year.
"Why do you ask?" said Sikati
.Brit was surprised. Normally he was given a negative answer, that drowned his moment of curiosity, where he would return to his state of disinterest and apathy. After a few years asking the question had become nothing more than a habit, a tradition.
"Why do you ask?"said Sikati a second time.
Brit looked over at him. He was quite similar in appearance to his brother. They were both of the same height, both had the same repertoire of expressions. The expression on Sikati's face was, at the moment, blank.
"I always do on my birthday." Answered Brit, with laughter in his voice. "You know that." He turned to go. He sensed that his brother did not follow him. After a few yards he turned to call Sikati home, but his brother stood where he had done, staring over to the forest.
"What are you staring at?" Asked Brit, rejoining him.
Sikati kept looking towards the forest.
"See that rock over there, about halfway between here and the forest?"
It took Brit a few moments to locate the rock, but it was not difficult because the landscape was so desolate.
"I see it."
"That is were they ripped my arm off."
Still Sikati's face said nothing.
Brit was confused. "You mean the monsters in the forest. The stories are true then."
"Not in the forest." Responded Sikati.
Brit was quiet. Sikati had never spoken of his arm before.
"The monsters at home. The dravs."
"The dravs, but why? What were you doing out there?"
This time Sikati looked at him. "I was trying to answer your question."
Sikati did not explain anything further but asked Brit to meet him later in the evening at the turnpike, by the southeast corner of the village. A few hours after their walk Brit was getting changed for the ceremony of Dakis. There was a knock at his abode's door, and dressed in his colourful robes, he went over to answer it.
"Alluscia, how good to see you. I wish you wealth of heart."
And he did indeed wish her wealth of heart, he was always pleased to see Alluscia. It was assumed by most that he would couple with Alluscia, father her children, and like all fathers in the village, join and live with the dravs, as his father had, and his father before him.
Though Brit liked Alluscia he was disappointed by her lack of interest in anything except him and their potential moments of future together.
"You look fine," said Alluscia, "Finely dressed for Dakis." She smiled at him the perfect smile and he did his best to smile back.
The ceremony did not take long, just a reiteration of his earlier childhood vows that Dakis was his one belief to the exclusion of all others. He promised him love, honour and above all obedience. The celebration afterwards took longer and would last well into the night. As the fires were lit and darkness descended Brit left the celebrations to seek out Sikati. All but a few were at the celebrations, where both food and hidden music were on offer, so there were few eyes to see him. Sikati was at the turnpike, he was dressed in the colors of celebration.
"You look finely dressed." Brit remarked to him after a formal greeting.
"Just irony." Sikati answered.
"Iron what?"
"Oh, something I learnt a few years ago."
Sikati had a bag slung over his shoulder, made from what looked like deer hide.
He began his story almost immediately.
"When I was eighteen years of age I met one of the dravs. A man who wasn't what he seemed. He taught me much. He taught me new words, well old ones really, and forgotten ideas. Four years later on my twenty second birthday he met me here, where we are standing."
Brit was confused. Of all the things he thought his brother was he did not think he was subversive.
"Then,' he carried on, 'he showed me this.' Sikati took the bag from his shoulder and from it took an object wrapped in cloth. He pulled the cloth from it. It was the first time Brit had seen a book this close.
"They made a leather cover for it, so it must be valuable. Not in barter but rich in knowledge. No-one knows the words in it." They both knew of reading, but had been taught it was evil and wrong, against the will of Dakis.
"I managed to hide the book before they caught up with me. I went back and found it sometime later. If they had found the book they would have killed me.'
"Where were you taking it?"
"Past the forest. To the next district."
"To the next district?" There was surprise in Brit's voice.
"There are other men out there. Men who do not follow Dakis. Men who know these." He lifted the book in the air.
"It is time to try again. The journey must be made. And today, today is the day."
They talked between themselves for some time. Brit felt the knawing ache within him dissipating. The apathy was gone. As they spoke it became darker. Eventually Sikati said, "Come, there is not much time left."
Only an hour later Brit was back in the village square, where the celebration was continuing. This time under his garments he wore the thickest clothes he could find to travel in. Sikati had promised a diversion and as good as his word some twenty minutes later he appeared.
Most people were surprised by the shouting they heard that disturbed the celebrations. All, including Brit, were surprised when they turned to look at the shouting that was disturbing them.
Sikati had painted his face, not the way a few of the woman in the village would do, but huge lines splashed horizontally. He sat astride what Brit could only call a metal horse.
"Dakis is nothing." He said. He bent down and grabbed a handful of dust from the ground. "He is like this handful of dust." He opened his hand and let the dust fall to the ground. "Nothing!"
It was Jaymore who incited the rest of the dravs. "Lets get him!" he cried at the top of his voice. Like a tidal wave all the males in the community, with the exception of two, rose up and moved in the direction of Sikati. Before they could reach him Sikati seemed to stand on the lower parts of the metal horse, revolving his legs madly. He moved of at the speed of a running man.
Brit took his moment. He went directly to the stables, where there were twenty or so horses, mainly mares. He knew which horse he would take. It was a young sandy color horse, named Sebastian. Brit had noted how muscles rippled beneath the horses skin and how the horse was full of an energy, which so far had remained contained. The people of the village did not use saddles, nor had heard of them. They were all taught to ride bareback at a very early age. Brit first went to the corner of the stable were he had hidden the bag and slung it across his shoulders. Then he mounted Sebastian, whispering words of comfort in the ears of the beast, and headed out of the stables. He went to the east of the village, to avoid being seen, with the intention of changing direction to the north and Pit hill, after a quarter of a mile or so.
If Robinson had been doing his duties in the correct manner he would not have seen the horse leaving the stables and riding away in the direction of the forest at a rapid place. There was always a lookout in the village, ostensibly to protect the villages crops from destruction by the wild animals that came out of the forest. The lookout would always be a drav, and Robinson was one of the most committed of them. He was a large man, with huge forearms, who had little to say. Only when he did it was normally to protect the ways of Dakis and argue the silence of faith.
On hearing the commotion in the village he left his post to see what was going on. He reasoned if he went to the east side of the village, then headed south he would cut the moving dravs of and find out what was going on. He had heard the shouts of the fool Sikati, and was pleased that the dravs had taken after him. This was how a few minutes later he caught sight of one of the younger horses, mounted by a unseen figure, leaving the stables. He was faced with a moment of indecision. He desperately wanted to catch up with the other dravs, but instinct told him this might be more important. He ran down to the stables, mounted the fastest horse he could find and headed after the unknown rider.
Brit sweated with excitement, with the knowledge that he was going to leave the confines of the village and the district. Whatever it was out there, he was going to find it. He headed out in the darkness and worried a little that the horse might loose its footing. He did not yet have his night vision and could not see very well. He only hoped the horse could see better. When he got to the edge of the forest he dismounted, leading the horse by its mane. The horse was reluctant to enter the forest and Brit had to talk to him gently, hoping to calm him down. Perhaps this was why he did not hear the noises behind him which might have prepared him for the attack.
Robinson leapt at his target a few feet from behind him, whilst he was talking to his horse. He grabbed the man's neck and without forethought began to tighten his grip. He felt the man go loose and relaxed his grip slightly. He wasn't prepared for the painful blow to the shin, which made him grimace in agony. The man broke free from his grip and turned around to face him.
It was Brit, Sikata's brother. Something was going on.
"Leaving us?" Smiled Robinson
Brit did not answer but dove at the man, hoping his weight would force him to the ground.
It did not.
Instead Robinson held his ground, and it was Brit who hit the ground.
Looking up in the darkness above him Brit heard the man say, "I've got you now."
It was then that Sebastian, the young horse, who had been standing by quietly, for whatever reason, reared up in the air, fiercely at the direction of Robinson.
Robinson yelled at the horse but to no avail. His last memory was of the horse charging down at him, with loud snorts and flaying forelegs.
Brit was surprised by the horse's actions but thankful. He got up from the ground and went to thank his rescuer but by then Sebastian had disappeared into the night. "I'll have to continue by foot." Brit thought aloud.
And so he did.
After the surprise of finding land beyond the forest and at least small signs of life Brit soon settled down into a routine. He only had a little food with him so he ate sparingly. He slept at night and walked by day. He was not assailed by monsters, but swore that once or twice he saw movement in the distance.
On the fourth day he saw the shimmering. It was in the distance and he had no idea what it could be. He walked in its direction. A day later it became apparent that the shimmering was the reflection of the sun, from a huge dome shaped metallic object that now dominated the horizon. It was that morning that he began to feel weak. He thought perhaps he was hallucinating when he saw the two horsemen riding towards him from the direction of the metal place. It was the last thing he saw before blackness occluded his vision and he felt his mind drift away. At last I've found them was his last thought as unconsciousness descended.
As he fell the bag from his shoulders came away and was propelled a few feet from him. The book that was in there came out and lay on the parched ground.
In the modest breeze the pages of the telephone directory flew back and forth.
