Saga of the Man Called True: Second Moon
Saga of the Man Called True
Second Moon: In the Empty World
As the moon's light shines again, so we tell our stories. Where we left off, we shall begin anew.
The boy had parted from his parents, taking with him only his tough canvas clothes, his heavy walking stick, and a small supply of food. He knew where he wished to go - to the cities he'd heard so many stories of - but he knew not where they were. All he knew was that if he wished to find them, he had to walk. And so walk he did.
The world had shifted many times, and it continued to shift under his feet as the boy walked. The biting winds blew the earth into hills and vallies, and he climbed and descended as he needed. The rain bit down, carving new gullies into the land, and he fought through them without a word. The sun dried rivers and lakes, forming deserts, and he dug in, waiting for the rain to renew them.
Few people crossed his path. He wasn't sure if this meant there were few people to cross his path, or if he was simply heading far away from where sane people traveled. Those few who passed him said nothing, doing whatever they needed to live. He did not bother them.
Perhaps three years after he started, perhaps two, or perhaps even a handful of months - who can say? - the boy reached a vast expanse of water, so far across that he could not see the other shore, even when the sun was bright enough to light the way yet not so bright as to blind. He went one way, but the water never curved around. He went the other way, just as far, but it never curved that way, either. The boy had reached the end.
So he sat down, and he planted what seeds he had in what soil he could find, and he waited. He waited out the wind, and the rain, and the sun, and the cold. All that came to him, he waited out.
And when the water began to pull back, who knows how long after he settled down, the boy stepped out to the edge and watched. He watched as a bridge made of earth rose out of the water, and he smiled, for his path was now clear.
But as the water pulled back, he found something odd - a piece of shining stone, red and rough in spots, with etchings on its sides, shaped like an L. He picked it up and took it with him, for it had caught his eye.
The boy traveled quickly along the bridge of earth, for he did not know how long he had before it would sink back beneath the water - and the boy could not swim. He did not sleep, no matter how long it took, and so he began to see things that weren't there, hear things that did not exist.
He saw his parents, beckoning him out onto the water, asking him to come home. He did not listen.
He saw a great city push its way out of the bridge, blocking his path, its gates parting. He shut his eyes and barreled through it.
He saw monsters and madman erupt from the ground, roaring at him, demanding he turn back. The boy charged them with his walking stick, and they vanished into the sky.
As the bridge crumbled and fell away, the boy reached its end, and collapsed onto the other side of the water. The bridge sank into the waters behind him, and the boy fell asleep, his energy completely consumed by the journey.
How long he slept, only the wind and the sun know. But when he woke up, the boy saw something odd before him - a path made of clean, red stone. He pulled himself to his feet with the walking stick, ate the last bit of food he had, and made his way along the path.
It was a long path, leading through many turns and many hills, but at its end he saw a great wall, made of green and white stone. This stone rang when he tapped his walking stick on it, and then he realized it wasn't stone at all. He thought back to the stories about the cities, and remembered a word: "metal".
He looked up, to the top of the wall, and saw a great spire reach up over the walls, high into the sky. He had reached a city.
As much as he wanted to speak, the boy could not get any words out. He looked for a door, and after much time, he finally found one. It was sealed, and so he rapped on it with his walking stick.
It opened, just a tad, and eyes looked at him from within the door. Then the door began to close again.
Panic shot through the boy, and he thrust his stick into the door, trying to keep it open. The door ceased closing, and he felt someone tug on the stick. After a moment, it opened all the way, and a woman stood there, dressed in clothing of silvery fabric unlike anything the boy had ever seen.
She smiled, and said, "Come in."
And so the boy entered the city.
There are many more tales to tell, but the moon's light is waning. I shall meet you again when the moon shines anew.