SABIS the SURVIVOR

Chapter 2: Searching For Answers

Chapter 2: Searching For Answers

After Eli's birth, Father never did join with another mate. As the young Eli and now as Elder Eldris, he often wondered why his Father remained solo.

Was he too occupied with his work? Or was his energy depleted from hiding his tears for the loss of his soul mate? Could he have shied away from a relationship to protect his feelings?

After his Father's passing into the stone, Eldris occasionally organized and sorted Wallis' belongings. One item that he had recently uncovered under a pile of Wallis' knickknacks was a stone urn wrapped in a thick cloth with the markings: Maris.

Normally, Eldris would put any sorted mementos on a shelf in his living area or donate them to the market for sale, the proceeds going to the Elder fund for teaching and training. But on this steam cycle, Eldris felt pressure to do something different. He and the other Elders had been wrestling with the warrior affliction and the increasingly negative effects on the Survivor tribe, and he needed to remove himself mentally from this calamity, if only for a short while.

So, gingerly and carefully, he picked up the rather large urn − it had the height of a wartis webbing, the girth of man's thigh, and the weight of a warrior's spear. He examined it for clues. What was its significance to his late Father? The urn's red and black onyx patterns swirled with its three moganite, quartz, and silica mineral components. The top was adorned with a horizontal swirl whereas the body of the urn wore a more vertical swirl pattern. Eldris read the name carved across the lower half: Maris.

This object seemed to be more than just a curiosity. It was hidden away, out of view, Who could Maris be? Was she a friend of Father?

He lifted the lid off and peered inside.

One of the tales that Eldris had heard as a novice Elder several ritual-of-fires ago reawakened in his brain at that moment: It had been relegated to the back of his active brain for a long time, buried under almost two generations of unspoken feelings, tribal responsibilities, and elaborate rituals. But now it surged to the front of his mind and etched there its rightful place in posterity, as he unrolled the tightly coiled scroll of parchment that rested at the bottom of that urn, then read the graphite ink note.

Scratches on a stone, marking my less than pristine intentions. Impressions in the grooves, deeper than any resentment. They memorialize the death of us, then trivialize the arduous paths I have walked, alone in my sorrow. Generous words, "Would you like to borrow?" That is how we met, in the market on the plateau. And this is where it ends, my friend, my lover, and more than you'll know.

Maris

This rumour he had heard─it was part of a story that needed to be told.

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Eli Becomes Eldris Again

At the age of twenty-one, I was appointed as an Elder by the Elder Council. The vote was unanimous. I would replace the outgoing Elder Habonis, who at the age of fifty-five, had served the Survivor tribe for almost thirty rituals-of-fire. He was the senior Elder, so he was tasked to perform my Swearing-in Ritual.

Habonis, at his peak height in his twenties, had stood almost six feet tall. But age and long steam cycles hunched over ancient texts while reading, interpreting, and writing commentaries had warped his cervical spine so that he could not gaze upwards. One ancient saying describing a morbidly ill man says that 'he has one foot in the grave.' But in Habonis' case, 'he had two eyes on his big feet, which had become the apple of his gaze.'

As Habonis plodded forward to meet me next to the sacred altar, I decided to elongate my spine and stretch myself to the ceiling so that I stood at my maximum height, which was well below six feet. So, at this ceremony, my view consisted mainly of Habonis' bald pate.