180) The Salvation of Eden, Chapter 16 -- Kohra gets intoxicated

Kohra sat beside Gorb, watching Beacon clop steadily down the road. It was less dusty here as they wound their way through verdant, rolling hills. She looked around at the shabby peasants, walking up the edges of the fields as they foraged for edible greens. Gorb explained that many of them would be migrant workers, traveling into the Wild to work in mines, or forestry, or some other particularly dangerous profession. The pay was much higher than anything they would make in Anthor, or even the Borlderlands. Much, much higher. Most of them hoped to make enough to retire in a few years, although few of them did. One thing about making money, there were always more ways to spend it.

         “So what do you think, Gorb?” Kohra asked out of the blue.

         “Bout what, lass?”

         “About all of this — the war, the King. Actually, do you know why we ended up in the back of your wagon? Do you know the Silver Lady? I’m so…I just want to understand what’s going on.”

         He passed her his mug.

         She looked confused. “Uhhh….”

         He gestured towards the mug she was now holding. “Drrrink! Tis d’nectarrr o’ d’gods, y’know. Drrrrink! An’ we talk about death.”

         Death?

         She tipped the heavy mug, wincing a little in anticipation of what this was going to taste like, trying to ignore the well-soaked beard of her new friend and all the questions she had about what was actually in this drink. And then it hit her lips, like honey water, with hints of rose and…cinnamon? She drank more. Her eyes closed and her mind wandered through memories of every spice she had ever tasted and every flower she had ever smelled. The mug disappeared from her hands, and it was okay. Perfect, in fact. She kept her eyes closed for a long time. Whatever “time” meant.

         Her eyes opened when they were ready to.

         The world was very bright.

         Lenny had woken, apparently, and was ahead of them, sprawled on Beacon’s back, her arms stretched out at her sides, flapping like a bird. She seemed so happy!

         Squirrelly seemed so happy too, sitting atop the horse’s head, right between her ears.

         The sky was so colourful today. It glowed so beautifully, puffy clouds outlined with a bright orange.

         “Take de rrrrreins.” Gord handed her the reins before she could think of a response. He seemed so happy, too. He believed in her.

         And, she did it! She held onto those reins, felt what the horse wanted to do, noted the position of the others in the caravan around them, and just drove, drove like she’d been born to it. “Wooooooooooooooooo!” she shouted to the sky. “WoooooooHOOOOOOOOO!!”

         Gorb laughed and slapped his knee, taking a deep swig. He was clearly having the best time ever. She forgot entirely that she had so many questions, or that they were supposed to be talking about death.

         The day passed in a lovely glow, Kohra listening, entranced, to Gorb’s stories of his life as a LightSinger, while Beacon clop-clopped along.

         She felt like she could see things clearly today, moreso than ever in her life, picking up subtleties in beauty, in people’s behaviours and expressions, in tone of voice and exactly the way they positioned their bodies. It was like the world was built out of patterns, and as she looked around, she saw the same patterns replicating themselves, over and over, like a language that Everything knew how to speak and only now was she learning to understand.

         She tried to explain all this to Dom, to help him see these incredible insights.

         “You’re funny when you’re drunk, Kohra.”

         Anyway, she didn’t really care what he thought. He’d get over it. She could just “let it go.”

         Before she knew it, it was dark and she was sitting around a fire with Lenny and Gorb and a whole troupe of Klliik, singing songs, telling jokes, laughing uproariously, mostly at things she didn’t understand. Gorb had introduced them; it seemed that Klliik had a natural affinity for each other, and Kohra and the others were swept into their circle like old friends.

         The partying and general celebration of it all reminded Kohra of her days back in the taverns of the Borderlands, but here it was wonderfully, refreshingly different. Here, they were Nobody, just fellow travelers. People weren’t gazing at them like they were celebrities, or expecting them to be “amazing”. Nobody was flirting or trying to take her home. Everyone was…happy! It was so easy to just “be” and enjoy each other’s company.

         These Klliik were unlike anyone Kohra had ever met. They partied hard. Oh Gods, did they party. For hours on end. They drank and smoked and devoured a seemingly endless parade of meats and cheeses and fresh fruits and breads and biscuits and muffins and gallons and gallons of wine and ale and….

         The night was a blur. She learned so many names, heard so many stories, laughed until her face hurt from smiling so much. At one point, she danced around the fire with Lenny while someone drummed a mean rhythm on a wagon wheel. It was…it was how life should be.

         As the hour grew late, the fire dimmer and the songs quieter and sadder, several of the Klliik grumbled something in their own language, and methodically, each one took out a pipe and packed a bowl. Nobody spoke, the laughter of the night left now to rest in the past. The air seemed heavier, weightier. They lit their pipes reverently, taking deep drags, exhaling billowing clouds of blue smoke. Gorb passed his to Kohra.

         Then the humming began, as deep as the voice of a mountain, Kohra imagined. It was a kind of singing she had never heard before, a resonance that seemed to spring from somewhere deep in their bodies.

         The humming built in intensity and turned into a complex, oscillating wave, which then split into harmonies and counterpoints and interwoven melodic lines. She thought it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard, these gravelly voices melding and transforming into a transcendent Song.

         When it was over, the Klliik faced each other and one-by-one, performed a ritual of arm-clasping in a very particular way. Kohra followed along as well as she could, and the Klliik didn’t seem to mind, each one chuckling as they made small adjustments to her form, helping her learn the ritual without ever needing to explain.

         A few of the older ones gave her a pat on the head, like she was a cute puppy. She felt wonderful, like she had just glimpsed the ever-elusive secret to happiness, somehow, in this community of generous, soulful Klliik. Lenny and Gorb seemed similarly content, and the three of them walked back to the wagon in silence.