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  She rose up from the ground and stepped forward. Moruzio, who had just boasted of his valour, stepped backwards. But she kept pushing on, until Moruzio was at the reach of her arms. The woodsman closed his lids, but all he felt was her caress on his cheeks:

  “Do not fret, brave mortal. For time passeth at a different pace for the stars and you. For us, your nights and days are like a blink. For you, our nights and days are as centuries. The end will not arrive today, though soon ‘twill indeed come. ‘Twill come before thine old age, but not ‘morrow. Nevertheless, a deathly shadow weighs upon this night. We would do well to shelter away till it passeth.”

  Moruzio neighed with disappointment, but ended up acquiescing, as oft he did. As for Skillotz, his ears were friendlier towards these counsels. As he heard these warnings, he felt the darkness of that night hugging his back: a cold, void embrace, seemingly hiding invisible, tenebrous monsters in its midst.

  “Nay, the sylphid is right,” said Skillotz. “It would be prudent to heed her, for she belongs to the People of the Stars. Let us set camp here, and head back by the morn. In any way, Kolinzio will surely bring back aid from the village, and we shall meet along the way.” Then, turning to the sylphid, he asked, “I almost forgot, I do not believe we were properly introduced. Do you have a name, oh star?”

  “I do, my lord, I—”

  “I am Skillotz!” interrupted he. “Son of Talizima, councilor of the town of Enoch. This here is Moruzio, my escort.”

  “So then hail, master Skillotz, son of Talizima, councilor of the town of Enoch. I am Nod, daughter of Megiddo, from the far away heavens. Thou hast found favour in my eyes, for thou hast heeded my words. As a star, I can bestow blessings no mortal can give, or even comprehend. For thy wisdom, I grant thee this gift: that thou mayest always judge wisely as thou didst just now. For I vow to always be by thy side, and counsel thee, and never cease to whisper at thine ear. So let it be done.”

  Nod then turned to the other giant, and solemnly proclaimed:

  “And hail to thee as well, brave Moruzio. Do not think I have forgotten thee. Even if thou hast gone against my advice, thy gallantry hath also found favour in my eyes. For I have come to bestow gifts in abundance, and cannot be miserly about them. For thy valour, oh Moruzio, I bless thee thus: Thy strength shall not be matched by any mortal creature standing before thee, if mortal hands or a weapon forged by mortal hands they wield. So let it be done.”

  And she blew her sweet, soft, rose-scented breath over their foreheads. For the first time in his life, the rude Moruzio blushed. But Skillotz’s chest seemed to have been set ablaze by these words:

  “Then let me repay your gift, in my own limited way. Nod, daughter of Megiddo, you are to be our guest. Let us pitch a tent for you, where you can rest. We shall guard and protect you.”

  “Oh my lord, by all means no. I cannot accept such an arrangement, for I was the one who was sent to serve thee.”

  “If you seek to serve me, then do not displease me by refusing my offer!”

  “If thou so desirest, then what else can I do but accept? I shall take the tent thou offerest, even if, as a star, I sleep not during the night. Be not afraid. My glow repelleth all threats lurking in the dark, so light no bonfire, nor keep your torches lit. And rest, for ye shall require strength for the ordeals ahead.”

  And so they did both set the tent and rest. Cradled by the monotony of the star-less sky, the giants soon fell into deep slumber. Nod, however, did not sleep that night, as she had predicted. She sat in her tent, her luminous shadow perceptible behind the cloth, while she ceaselessly moved her hands as a weaver heart the spinning wheel. She never ceased to glow while the night lasted. Her light beamed from her forehead, from the depths of her thoughts.

  ***

  As the strange shadow had swallowed up the sky the night before, a thick wall of clouds eclipsed the sunrise the following day. A downpour fell over the mortal’s heads, and soaked them to the bones. With great haste, Skillotz and Moruzio lifted camp: They gathered their drenched belongings and crammed them into their satchels. Their haste, though, proved for naught. Just as they finished packing, the rain stopped. Faded was the shadow which had devoured the firmaments, and Carmel-sun emerged victorious from it.

  And just as the sun triumphed over the dark nebulosity of the high heavens, so much did he triumph over the clouds of the lower skies. Carmel thrust his luminous golden blade on the cloud’s back, and opened a wound on its grey flesh. Yea, verily, Carmel’s blade did pierce the cloud from side to side, and reached the surface of the earth: a beam of light burnishing the droplets on the ground, making them sparkle as pearls. The sun was already high in the sky, on his set path, even if no one had seen him rise.

  Nod witnessed all of this, her mouth agape with awe, her nostrils breathing the dawn’s fresh odour:

  “We, stars up above, always knew of the beauty of the lower lands. But no word or song could do justice to what my eyes gaze upon. Only by seeing it, not hearing of it, could one know this splendour.”

  In spite of her apparently light mood, Nod would often glance behind her—and not just behind, but also above to the skies, clouds, and sun. She feared the shadow of the previous night, as if it would come in pursuit of her.

  “Let us keep going, my lords. This beauty amazeth me, yet this place frighteneth me more.”

  They obeyed. They marched eastward and northward, keeping the Ergon river at their right. They sought higher grounds, for the clayish soil of the Forbidden Lands had blended with the rain and formed a viscous mud, which absorbed the giants’ steps and hindered their stride. They climbed some hills—not without several stumbles on the slippery mud—where the waters drained with ease and did not coalesce in treacherous puddles. Nod, however, could follow them without trouble, as her feet could hover above the ground without touching it.

  Then, as they got to the top of the hills, Nod once again glanced back… and what she saw astonished her. Not the shadow pursuing her, but a beautiful vision. Farther away, a majestic stonewall rose above the ground, as high to a giant as a giant is to a man. Beyond this wall lay an immense sea, glittering with the sunlight beams cast through the scattered tears in the clouds. And even further, over the sea, already at the line of the horizon, rising with pride against the clouds, there was a mountain. And upon it a superb palace glowed on the mountain peak, with towers and pinnacles covered with a golden shine.

  “What be this wondrous apparition, which doth my senses enthrall?”

  Moruzio, as the good guide he was, delayed not to answer:

  “That is Ophir, the Golden City. It is the throne of the crizia most fair.”

  “Crizia? What means that?”

  “It is a title,” Skillotz hastened to say. “It means: ‘daughter of a king.’”

  “We sylphs call such daughter a ‘princess.’ ‘Tis what we call the blessed daughters of Salem, the Queen of the Stars. Yet no daughter of Salem dwelleth in mortal realms here below, even in such divinely carved abode.”

  Skillotz stammered. It was easier to talk about crizias and princesses in a world where there were no kings and queens—or where kings and queens existed only in higher worlds far above, so distant and intangible as if they did not exist at all. It was harder to talk about princesses to a being who had seen them, and knew of royal lineages in royal courts.

  “Well, we do not know if she is really the daughter of a king or queen, or if she rather descends from a noble-blooded star. What we do know are the circumstances of her birth.”

  “Please tell me.”

  “I shall. Once upon a time, our ancestors climbed that there mountain you see in the horizon, where the city now lay. There was no city at the time, only an unsettled plateau. At the very peak, they found a flower, whitish and rosy, but huge unlike any flower they had ever seen: It was of such size, it reached the giants’ kneecaps. They were deep in contemplation of the flower, when it started to glow, and they could see a sort of a smoldering heart be
ating beneath the petals. Then the flower bloomed. Inside it there was a creature, similar to us in shape, but shorter in stature, and also with more gracious proportions than we. They called her ‘Inimois.’ Our forefathers brought her with them to Melchy-Zedek, so the sages there could tell them what she was. The melchin, though, did not find anything like her in their books and parchments. There was even a Council to determine her nature, to no avail. Not one amongst the logizkal knew what this creature could be. Faris-Romil had then been a pontiff only three years. He went to silence for forty days, fasted, prayed, and asked the Higher Sylphs for guidance. The stars took pity on him, and Bethel came down from heaven to speak with him. Thus she spake: Inimois did not come from anything or anyone but Aigonz, the creator, himself. Surely, as a star, you must remember this.”

  Nod shrug her shoulders, and arched a warm smile:

  “Nay, I do not suppose. Thou must know that the Higher Sylphs do not tell all their plans to lesser sylphs like myself. Please, proceed. Whether I remember or not, I remain enraptured by thy story.”

  “There is not much more to tell. Since Inimois was the direct descendant of Aigonz, the King Most High, the sylphs ordered the logizkal to call her ‘princess.’ And so, the Council anointed her crizia. They raised her, and taught her; and when she was grown up, they gifted her the Mountain of Sym-Bolon, where she had been found. There Ophir was built, the city before your eyes. There would the crizia rule.”

  Nod kept still for a while, almost forgetting her mission. Skillotz and Moruzio, though concerned with her prophecy, did not rush her, for she had the gilded glow of Ophir scintillating in her blue irises.

  “‘Tis truly a magnificent city. Verily, the fame of Ophir is great, even in the heavens. Nevertheless, up above, Ophir is nothing more than a golden grain of sand in an immense pond, or a small star like myself in a distant heaven, otherwise darkened. But down here, it surpasseth anything I have ever seen.”

  “And still, it is from far away you gaze upon it. If it be your wish, my lady, I promise to take you there one day, so that you will see it more closely. On that day, your heart will truly flutter.”

  “Truly? Wouldst thou? I am so glad! Would I also be allowed to meet this princess of mysterious lineage?”

  “Indeed, for I am the son of the neighboring town’s councilor. My father has had many audiences with the princess, and brought me with him. An audience shall not be denied me. After all, I am sure the crizia would fancy meeting a true sylphid as much as you would fancy meeting her.”

  “I would be immensely grateful. In return, I shall dispense countless blessings upon thy life, venerable Skillotz.”

  ***

  For hours, they stood marveling at Ophir on the horizon, till a new downpour drove them to move on. The sun retreated behind that strange curtain of clouds; his beams did not warm them any longer, nor shielded them from the rain. Only by nightfall were the clouds patchy enough to allow them to see the starry skies. By then, the giants were soaked, their toes tingling with cold and tiredness. Yet they could also better sense the moist grass caressing the soles of their feet, relieving them. The soil had become green again since they had passed by Ophir. They walked in the Forbidden Lands no more.

  As for Nod, she was as dry as ever. Her hairs were not dampened, nor her tunic drenched. Mane and dress alike waved freely, with no water weighing upon them. Her feet felt sore not at all, nor were her sandals muddy: She always floated just above the ground, without ever touching it.

  The three sojourned one more day; one more night they camped. This time the skies, though clouded, shed no rain. Nod kept weaving her magic inside her tent, while her companions slumbered.

  The next morn, they were awakened by the sound of many footfalls. Giant steps, like theirs, but in higher numbers. As Skillotz rose up, he saw another of his kind bending down towards him.

  “Skillotz, my friend!” cried Kolinzio, with unfeigned joy.

  Skillotz recognized Kolinzio, and also the giants with him—all hardy folk from Enoch, their home village. Kolinzio had fulfilled his task, bringing with him an expedition of a dozen strong to retrieve Skillotz, and also to scout the site of the mysterious incident.

  While Skillotz collected his sleepy thoughts, Kolinzio pulled him into an embrace:

  “I am so glad to see you safe! A part of my heart feared to never see you again!”

  “Of course I am safe! Your fears were wholly unfounded! I am well, and so is Moruzio! Now come! See what your qualms delayed you from witnessing,” and he pointed towards Nod, who had come out of her tent to see what all the commotion was about. Kolinzio and his following were much amazed:

  “Is that a sylphid?”

  “So it is,” Skillotz bragged, “a true sylphid, in the flesh. Or rather, not flesh, since that is not the kind of matter composing her. Or maybe not matter, more like essence. It would be more proper to say…”

  “Oh confound these futile musings!” interrupted Moruzio, whose impatient foot had tapped so much, it had dug a small pond in the mud. “She is a sylphid and that is that! What truly matters here is her purpose! She was sent from the heavens with tidings of a terrible calamity hanging over us!”

  “Yes, yes, indeed,” coughed Skillotz, as if Moruzio had scolded someone else. “I see, good Kolinzio, that you have gathered many scouts. I do not see my father, though. Where be Talizima, the councilor?”

  “My good fellow,” replied Kolinzio, “Talizima your father, supposing you in great peril, proceeded with haste, and gathered this retinue you see here. He meant to head this party, not I. Yet a greater calling held him back. There we were, in the very act of departing, when two hippogriffs came soaring above our heads. One of them brought a messenger, a herald who spake thus: The pontiff is convening the Council, and bade Talizima to come forthwith to Melchy-Zedek, the Blessed City. Talizima had to mount one of the hippogriffs and follow the other. And as swiftly as their wings bore him away, so swiftly was his heart drawn to you, ruing that he must leave this task to me, to find you and succor you.”

  “He did well, as there was no reason for worries, as you see,” Skillotz said, stressing once more how he had been right; but immediately regretted it, for he had said Talizima did well in leaving him behind. “However, he also blundered in following the pontiff’s call so hastily, since he could bring Nod’s message to the Council, if he had waited but a little longer. Nor can Enoch's judges deliberate on Nod’s message till he returns, for he is our councilor, and presides over our judges.”

  “Let the judges deliberate!” proposed Moruzio. “And let Talizima adjudicate upon his return.”

  “No, better wait for him,” Kolinzio replied. “We have never interpreted a sylphid’s message before! It is not a task to take lightly!”

  “Then why not consult Malvizio, the priest?” suggested Skillotz. “He is a great sylphologist, one of the best in all Thebel. Surely he shall know what to do with a sylphid. When Talizima returns, he will decide better, after consulting Malvizio and what he has to say on the matter.” And rubbing his hands together, he proclaimed, “Now, let us go back.”

  Other matters notwithstanding, going back was something they all agreed on—the more so as there yet lingered in the air the threat of another downpour. They set their way back to Enoch. During the remainder of their journey, neither clouds nor rain ceased; they rarely saw Carmel-sun while it was high in the heavens, or the stars when dusk fell.

  Chapter

  3

  Faris-Romil Departed

  As Skillotz journeyed home, Talizima reached Melchy-Zedek on his borrowed hippogriff. Nor was he alone. Many others were there—foreigners by sight, for they clearly did not hail from those parts. The melchin—like most northerners—wore not animal skins as did their southern brethren, but rather leaves sewn together, and a collar of seashells if they were judges. But whether their loins were girded with southern skins or northern leaves, they wore each a linen cape upon their shoulders, if they were a councilor.
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br />   So a bustle of linen mottled the Blessed City. Wherever there was a city of giants, from there a councilor had been sent. A sense of urgency hung in the air, a graveness that had not been felt for centuries. Yet little did they suspect how remarkable this Council would be! In the annals of history, this is recorded as the last Council of the unified Republic.

  The councilors convened at the cothon: a round harbour-house turned into a small palace, built on an isle at the centre of Melchy-Zedek’s bay. Inside the cothon lay an amphitheatre, with their seats ordered in a semicircular arrangement, radiating from the podium at the centre as the ripples from a pebble dropped into a serene pond. The seats likewise imitated the waves of the sea: As the distance from the podium increased, so did the seats grew higher. Furthermore, the giants had engraved blue undulating patterns with lapis-lazuli pigments on the white limestone of the stands.

  On the outer walls of the amphitheatre, crude niches harboured ivory figurines of the great pontiffs, judges, and heroes of yore, worthy of renown. The floor was emblazoned with paintings of fish and other sea creatures. The ceiling lay open to the skies, so that the sylphs could hear and pour down their light upon the councilors.

  Therein the Council would gather, with the pontiff and all the councilors, and Talizima with them. And there was not one amongst them who was not astonished—terrified, even—with this sudden summoning. In this premonition, they perceived wisely, as it afterwards became known.

  When the last councilor entered the cothon, Bilidio, the high priest, came to the pontiff’s quarters and called unto him:

  “It is time.”

  Faris entered this most revered hall. The stern tapping of his wooden staff silenced everyone; and his long, white tunic, simple yet majestic, impressed his presence on the minds of the assembly. His silvery beard cascaded down his chest and kept falling, blending with the pleats of his linen tunic, reaching his knees and beyond.