Chapter 8

Forever Recorded

∞

“Dai’ran shu’uck tai man Puntar, mal sec man Muntar. Iso faru’uck Dai’ran,” Jo-Laina read from the correllium stone that was jutting from the middle of the path. The words formed in her mouth easily, as if she had been speaking the ancient language her entire life, which she hadn’t. She and her sister had both studied and learned it, but never practiced it. The group was gathered around the message; fingers scratching heads, eyebrows furrowed with confusion, followed by shared, empty glances, and shrugged shoulders. Not even Panpar could read the ancient language written on the face of it.

“Not really gettin’ it,” Greegus piped in. “Someone’s buried here?”

Jo-Laina could see why he thought that, but this wasn’t a headstone, like what you would expect to see, marking the grave of someone that you cared about. It was a monument, created by the people, which every one of them descended. It wasn’t made from stone, and yet it still seemed accurate to refer to it as a monument-stone, despite the fact that it was formed from the same correllium that they were standing. This monument, made from such a durable metal, never rusting, never eroding or corroding, or breaking down in any way, would last for all time. There were two circular correllium cylindrical spires poking up, about four feet from the ground like fingers pointing toward the sky. The spires, shaved clean at an angle at the top, angling toward anyone heading up the mountain trail; the circles joined close together, lines continuing where each circle met, so that an oblong field was created in the middle. Between those lines, and in that field, were the words of the ancients, but those words had nothing to do with a body lying below their feet.

“No, Greegus. No one is buried here,” Jo-Vanna answered.

“I didn’t know that you could speak the old language, young one,” Panpar said. “I’ve always wanted to learn it myself, but have had no way to do it.”

“Our aunt made us learn it while she was still alive. She said it was our birth-right,” Jo-Laina said as she fondly thought back to a time when her aunt was still alive. “She had a book, as thick as a brule-deer roast, which had been handed down in our village through many lifetimes, and she made us study it. It was written during the Prim-human alliance, necessary for both peoples to understand each other, and written for that purpose.”

“So?” Greegus said impatiently. “Are you gonna tell us what the thing means or are you gonna spend the rest of the day givin’ us a history lesson.”

“I think this is a history lesson,” Jo-Laina barked back at him. “At least the beginning of one. It says that the first alliance was between the Puntarians and the Muntarians. Then it says that it was a good alliance.”

“And they saw fit to put that up here. Half way up the mountain, where nobody can see it?” Jerifai asked.

“This is a good sign!” Panpar said slapping Jerifai on the back. “It means that the ancients expected us! They wouldn’t have wasted their time if our quest was an impossible one.” Panpar spoke these words with enthusiasm, as if all of their problems had suddenly been answered, and as if all they then had to do was to continue up to the top. The Barakai, however, were still watching them, jaws clicking, exoskeleton arms and legs digging at the air, as if they wanted to come forward to feed, but could not. Panpar didn’t seem to notice the increased activity of the Barakai, for he resumed his walk up the mountain path without glancing at them.

You presume too much, old man, Jo-Laina thought. I think that we are all but dead. The Minh can hold the Barakai at bay for a time, but I doubt that their strength is unlimited. Eventually they will tire.

You think that the Minh is helping us? Jo-Vanna thought to her sister.

Don’t get excited. I think he is only helping us get to him. He wants us there for his own reasons, which probably have more to do with killing us himself, rather than helping us reach the top.

Well, maybe...

Maybe nothing! The Minh wouldn’t help us any more than the rest of the Prim would. Jo-Laina started up the path herself. Panpar was already rounding the next curve, but the others had waited for her before they followed. Jo-Vanna took up a position behind her and then the rest fell in line. We are all as good as dead. The only question is whether our deaths will be worthy of the ribbon.

∞

“The second alliance was between the Prim and the humans. This too, was a good alliance,” Jo-Laina translated. The second of the messages was on an exact replica of the first monument, written in the same language, but Jo-Laina forewent speaking the ancient tongue that none of her group, other than Jo-Vanna, would understand.

There was a third marker, with yet another message, a little further up the path. “When the Minh joined the Moog, there was no alternative but for the Prim and the humans to join the Puntarians, and Muntarians. This was a very powerful alliance.”

The group didn’t bother to wait around, nor did they discuss the message, or its meaning. As soon as she finished reading the message, they moved on, knowing that another would follow, and wanting to see what else the ancients had to say.