Season 2: Episode 8 – What Alltud Knows

This series contains mature themes and is intended for adult listeners.

>Begin Porta Cor imprint.<

I’m not sure I understand how I can feel more like me now, but I do.

My head is clearer than it’s ever been. I know I want to do something with my life other than win championships in tournaments.

I don’t want just to win fights anymore. I want to matter, not like Bryn. Fuck that. I’d lose my mind in a council chamber. But something like what she does. Just my way.

I understand now that they didn’t exile me because they believed the reports. They exiled me because this was the only place I might survive. Would I survive unchanged? No. Who survives times like these unchanged?

If they just threw me out of Che’el de Velg’lan? I would have been killed instantly by either Mallaidh supporters or Bryn supporters who believed the reports.

They didn’t send me here to die. They sent me here because this was the only place I might survive and come back useful.

Fuck. I am still mad at them, though. I will never let Dahlfia or Bryn live this down.

I don’t know if I will tell them all of what happened in the desert. I’m not ready to talk about what happened out there. Hell, I’m not even ready to think about it for too long. I know I will have to do so eventually.

But they owe me now. Oh, they really fucking owe me.

The crowd is all around me now, chanting strange things. Hands are on my arms, shoulders, and back like they’re trying to touch something mythic.

It feels very strange.

One of them touches my shoulder, and she starts weeping with joy. I’m fucking confused.

They usher me into the community center, the very place where I named Twyloo. They lift me off my feet and set me gently down on the dais where Montvie stands waiting with Conwyr and my other trainers.

I walk over toward them, and then Montvie holds his hands up in the air to silence the crowd gathered around us.

“The desert has shown us…” He stops, and the crowd finishes his sentence.

“…who survives and who doesn’t!”

“Tomorrow, we will induct Kylah Marie into the community of Alltud officially. Tonight…” Montvie pauses for effect and throws his arms up again, “We celebrate the trial!”

The crowd’s cheers are deafening. Rhyddid greets me first, extending her hand out to shake mine. “I had no doubts.” She says into my ear. I turn back to hers, “I did. But your teachings saved me. I will never forget you.” She doesn’t smile, but her hard eyes soften slightly with the acknowledgment.

Next up was Lidel. She extends her delicate hand out to me and leans to kiss my cheek gently. “The Daltina cacti juice actually tastes good,” I yell into her ear above the crowd. She nods and smiles. “The gift of the desert.”

Rebane comes up behind Lidel, and he shakes my hand vigorously. “No problems on the dunes?” I turn to his ear, “On the way back, I felt like I fucking floated on them.” He laughs and raises his hands in victory.

Conwyr reaches me and throws her arms around me in a motherly embrace. Normally, I don’t like to hug, but I throw my arms around her and squeeze as she squeezes me. I feel a tear well up in my eye, and I quickly wipe it away before anyone can see.

Finally, Montvie approaches me. He puts his hand on my shoulder, “We sent one Kylah into the desert, and the desert decided what came back.” He shouts over the crowd. I nod in agreement, unable to yell back now over the din.

The crowd takes me back over and ushers me through the walkways to a large room they have set up with food, drink, music, and other entertainment.

Someone stuffs a drink into my hand, and I sip it, looking around, watching everyone celebrate. I feel disconnected from it all. They’re celebrating me, but not really.

A pregnant female approaches me and takes my free hand in hers and squeezes it. Tears fill her eyes, and she walks off without saying anything. I think I understand.

They are not celebrating me. They are celebrating someone else’s absence.

That’s how this place was built.

And now I am one of them.

The party continues well into the night, but the noise is overwhelming to me. As the tournament champion, I would have been at the center of the commotion, drinking and celebrating until I passed out. But it feels foreign now.

I slip out of the main room and walk down the walkway a bit past the various couples making out, some doing even more, until the walkway is empty save for some benches. I sit down with my drink still in my hand and exhale.

Montvie walks toward me from the main room and motions to the empty spot beside me on the bench. I nod.

He sinks into it with me. “That part never feels like a win.”

“Yeah. Especially since I killed Twyloo out of mercy, and they think I’m some fucking hero.”

Montvie lifts an eyebrow, encouraging me to share what was on my mind. I sit up straighter and turn to face him.

“He and I got separated in a sandstorm.” I leave out what was happening before the sandstorm. “When I found him again, he was barely alive. He wouldn’t have lasted for more than 8 or 10 hours, I’m guessing. He didn’t even look like us anymore. I killed him to spare him any further torture from the desert.” I admit.

Montvie remains quiet and pensive without interruption. “I didn’t want to at first. Part of me wanted him to suffer. But I made a different choice after thinking about it. I don’t deserve any praise for the victory. I didn’t win anything.”

He leans back on the bench and watches me for a moment. “Kylah, the fight to the death is not about winning or losing. It is about survival. Alltud,” he looks around at the cavern walls around us, “is about survival. The desert is about survival. Survival is all that matters here. It shapes what will come next for us. You didn’t win. But you are here, and he isn’t. In our world, that is the only measure of what matters.”

He pauses to give me time to think about his words.

After a moment, I nod because I get it.

“But can I ask you, why didn’t you all just kill Twyloo yourselves? Surely there was enough of you here that you could have accomplished that without waiting for an outsider to come here and challenge him.”

He lifts his finger and points to himself and to me, “Exiles are what’s left after judgment fails. Out there, they pretend the system protects people with punishment. Here, the desert judges and sentences.”

I remember how the sandstorm came up right as he was getting ready to kill me and raked him off of me, but left me there on the ground. The desert delivered its judgment and sentence. I hastened the sentence along.

“Can I return now?” I ask.

He looks at me for a long time and then says, “Do you want to return to Che’el de Velg’lan?”

I look back at him, “Yes.” I have no hesitation or doubt. I want to go back.

He smiles, “I think you will be well received now.”

“They know what happened here?” I ask. He lets out a short laugh, “Of course. My daughter is a great conniver who can make people believe reports, too.”

I smile back at him, thinking of Dahlfia. He tilts his head, “She’s going to be busy with this new government.” I nod. “She won’t be able to help me with my network of intelligence on the outside anymore. She won’t be able to get her hands dirty being so closely involved with Bryn now.” He looks around and then back at me. “I need someone on the outside to coordinate information and share with Bryn and Dahlfia or others as needed. Do you know of such a someone?” He lifts his eyebrows, waiting for me to respond.

“Fuck yeah, I do,” I answer.

He smiles and stands, “Excellent. You’re one of us now, Kylah. Time to do your part.” He looks up as Conwyr approaches, “Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going back to make sure no one parties too hard in there.” He smiles at Conwyr and then turns to head back to the main room.

Conwyr watches him walk off and then smiles softly as she sits down next to me on the bench. She takes my hands in hers. It makes me think of how Bryn always takes my hands and holds them when she’s trying to nurture me. It feels nice, so I don’t resist.

Her green eyes look back at me like she can see everything that has changed in me since I left her.

“You spoke with her.” She doesn’t ask it; she says it.

“Well, I don’t know that you could call it speaking,” I offer.

“That is how she speaks.”

I exhale slowly through my nose, “You knew she would find me.” I take the amulet off my neck and hold it in my open hand.

“Of course,” she agrees.

“You knew what she would show me?”

She shrugs a little, “No one ever knows what she will reveal to another. Only that she reveals what she wishes. What she needs to,” she amends.

I rub my fingers across the warm amulet in my hand. “Was this my grandmother’s?”

She pauses and then answers without answering, “It may have been.”

“Do you have one of your own?”

She lifts another one from inside her shirt and shows me one just like mine, but the faint rune is slightly different.

“The Order of Erianeth.” She whispers.

The word seems familiar to me, but I cannot place where I’ve heard it before. “You are part of that?”

 She nods, “As are you.”

I exhale again, my mind racing. “It has to do with this,” I set the amulet on the bench between us and take out Goroeswyr. “Doesn’t it? I saw this blade used. I saw what happened after.”

She lifts her eyebrows. “I can see why you’d think that.”

Frustrating, answers without answers. Riddles within riddles.

“Am I required to keep these?” I ask, suddenly remembering the vision of me reaching out to accept something.

She shakes her head slowly, “Never. You can put them down here on the bench next to me and walk away forever. You can take them now, put them down later, and walk away forever. The gift of choice is always ours in her light.”

She pauses now and doesn’t say anything for a few moments as I look at the two items on the bench beside me.

She adds calmly, “You won’t walk away. You simply won’t.”

My eyes meet hers, and we stare at each other for a long time. Conversations without words are hard for me to explain.

I pick up Goroeswyr and tuck it back into the sheath, then pick up the amulet and tuck it back into my shirt, careful to keep it hidden. I look at her again, confident in my answer, even though I still don’t understand fully what it means, “No, I won’t.”

“I used the blade to kill Twyloo,” I say without thinking why. “Not out of rage or revenge, like I thought I would. Strange, isn’t it?” I ask her.

“No, not strange at all, when you think about it.”

“I thought I knew what kind of person I was.” I stand up, and she stands with me. “Turns out, I didn’t realize the extent of my capabilities.”

She smiles kindly at me now, “You’re just getting started. You have a big day tomorrow. Let me escort you to your very own apartment. You’ve earned it.”

I sleep peacefully that night, enjoying the fact that it’s my own place. I’ve never had my own place by myself before. I always shared a home with my parents and my sister, and then later I shared a home with my husband, his mother, and my sister. I could get used to it. But not here.

The ceremony takes place back in the main open gathering area on the stage. I hope this doesn’t take too long. It’s so strange having everyone watching me.

The community leaders, including Montvie and Conwyr, march me up to the stage. They light candles and pour water over me and around me, and then they hand the water to me to drink. It’s all very strange and foreign.

It’s not that I don’t want to be a part of their community. It’s just that I already feel like I am. This feels like a novelty. Frivolous.

But during the ceremony, I gaze out to see the faces around me. I see how meaningful it is for them. This is how they make sense of their world, so I continue.

Finally, they all step aside from me, and I hear the crowd begin to chant the Litany of the Tylwyth Teg, but I make a stark realization as they chant these words…

May the air around you be clean and plentiful.
May the sand beneath your feet never slide.
May the sun cast shadows that you might be sheltered.
May the waters refresh you from death.
May your heart be at one with your mind.
And may your soul bind to Anturia for the benefit of all.

This is not the version I grew up knowing. This is what Dahlfia recited to me as she walked me out of Che’el de Velg’lan. Dahlfia. I smile a little as the end of the ceremony nears. The crowd cheers as I am one with them now. My eyes tear up, but not because I am one with them. But because I’m going back.

After the ceremony, I pack up my stuff. Montvie and Conwyr appear at my door. “The capsule is outside waiting for you,” Montvie tells me. “Your home will always be here for you.” Conwyr adds.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and beam at them, feeling happier than I have felt in ages. “Thank you.”

There are no big goodbyes. Just a nod to them both, and I’m out the door.

As I exit the community and slide into the capsule, it feels right.

Send Porta Cor Transmission to Dahlfia.

>Sending Porta Cor transmission connection request to Dahlfia. One moment.<

“Kylah?”

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m coming back.”

Disconnect Porta Cor Transmission to Dahlfia.

>Porta Cor transmission with Dahlfia disconnected.<

>End Porta Cor imprint.<