Lucky Keogh (Temporary Title)

Chapter Four

Secrets of Jad Hen

“…the rest of the people across Onil cannot survive to understand...”

“I can’t,” Yeth disagreed on the idea. “I can’t leave the region. Travelers will need me.”

With his hand, Keogh brushed Kasser’s bushy grey fur; face down from facing the flickering sunrise, a little saddened. He was trying to induce Yeth to join him on his journey and so she could see her family again, like his.

“I shall not stay any longer then,” Keogh concluded with a low tone.

“If you’re feeling any better, Kasser could give you a ride to the margin of the pass,” Yeth offered.

“That would be excellent.”

Keogh rose from the rock he seated himself, followed by the lucan from his lazy sprawling. The animal could astoundingly comprehend human language.

“Before you leave,” Yeth said then she walked into the hut.

She came back in a trice with a desiccated bow smaller than her other one she was using now.

“Accept this,” she said, handing the bow to Keogh. “It’s timeworn but still of good use. The arrows—you’re from Helmdock; you know how to make one from branches. You may well shape finer ones than mine, I’m sure.”

“Thank you, Yeth,” Keogh said, all smiles, as he got the wooden weapon. “This will certainly be of good use.”

“Now, go. And don’t let another or the same Gria rape you. Or vice versa.”

He chuckled on the joke as the lucan bent his long body down for Keogh to mount.

“Don’t fly too fast, Kasser,” his master instructed. “He has never ridden a beast, not even a horse.”

Before Keogh could open his mouth to thank another time and bid farewell when he got on the lucan’s bushy spine, they had sprung down the mountain. Fast as the wind. Such a disobedient animal. There was nothing to hold on to Kasser while they flew downhill. No harness, no rope; just his long fur. Keogh almost embraced the beast’s body just to cling.

It took them just a few minutes to reach the margin, divulging a seemingly boundless sandy plain. And over the starkness, Keogh could finally view the gilded figure of the shrine atop a rising land on the edge of a sheer drop. Behind was an expanse backdrop of open air, free winged creatures, sapphire skies, immense clouds, and all infinite. Dull blows of wind along the mountain pass were now serene breezes, kissing his face turning radiant. The tower was lofty, cylindrical, covered in gold paint, segmented into three stories, and oddly deprived of windows. Its roof, in darker gold, was pointing sharply to the skies as his broadsword. The bright color of the structure gleaming under the newly risen sun signified brand new hope. His mother was now at hand.

He patted Kasser’s head and the lucan left like a bolt from the blue. Through the sands, he started approaching the sloping path ascending towards the shrine. As seen, no gate or fortification to safeguard; everyone else was accepted. Indeed, as Marim defined, Jad Hen needed no military protection. No sentinel in sight. Thus, Keogh was self-assured he would likewise be welcomed. Again, as he walked, he looked as if he was being charmed by another Gria—steps were ceaseless and eyes unblinking at the shrine that grew bigger and higher as he got closer.

Mama, I’m approaching, he thought endlessly with every step he made. The second he found himself standing at the foot of the mounting path, he moved uphill.

On the flat crest, greeting his interested eyes was a straight path, leading to concrete stairs into the shrine lobby following a courtyard. Cardboard, plywood, and stones—the houses on the sidewalk were made of these, and with windows having no panes. For shade against the direct light, canvases and blankets on stilts overhang on either or both sides of the houses. Found outdoors were a few residents, uniformly clad in white material—now faded yellowish over time—in diverse cuts, and turbans, making their dark complexion stand out. What stunned Keogh was the stillness of the atmosphere. Very silent. Even the people’s countenances were blank, serene. Keogh never was given a long look to speculate on his arrival. As he unhurriedly progressed along the path, he heard echoes from the shrine. Mantras and chants led by an aged feminine voice—prayers that his parents never taught or recited to themselves or he himself had heard. Then repeated. Delectable aroma of feast was also sensed. Marim’s viand, as delectable, reminded him.