Arrival
The mood was subdued as the dusty, exhausted crowd finally reached the top of the ridge and, at long last, sighted their new home. A collective sigh came from the loose ranks, of both relief that their five-year long trek was at long last over, and from sheer exhaustion. Shuru, their Dawar guide, had urged them on after the brief attack by the Arbat raiders. Thy had kept on, almost to the point of collapse. Now, at last, they had arrived.
The valley known as Ulyan opened up before them, golden green fields shadowed and highlighted by the huge grey-and-white monutains on each side. The first snowflakes fell gently from the sky, patchworked with dull clouds and shafts of sunlight. Ahead lay the town of Ul-Tei itself, a seemingly simple construction in the centre of a glorious landscape.
Above: A view of one part of the Ulyan Valley
As the crowd approached, however, the one defining aspect of the town came into view. Various expressions of surprise and delight ran through the Jin horde as they saw the glimmering monument - stone, with many faces, but each face covered in a writing similar but subtly different, simpler and with broader strokes. Each and every letter was carved out of the stone, and faced with precious silver.
"You want to know what it is?"
Qian, a bandage tied around his upper arm, snapped around. Facing him, matching the voice he'd heard, was a slight girl, clearly from the town but of mixed Yi-Dawar descent by her looks. Qian guessed her age at around fifteen, one year his junior.
She was also remarkably good-looking and Qian had to shake his head to bring his thoughts back to the present.
"You alright?" she said.
It occurred to Qian that she might have already said this, and also that he was staring.
"Sorry. I was just trying to take everything in," he lied. "It's... quite something."
"The town? It's alright, I guess, but it's nothing special..."
"That, I suppose. I was just awestruck by... well, everything. This place is quite a hidden treasure."
"Did you want me to tell you about the monument? And your double here?" The girl gestured, and Qian looked back over his shoulder.
About a metre away, Xin was leaning on the wooden frame of what looked like some kind of workshop, grinning like an idiot. Chuckling, he walked forward to the pair.
Speaking for them both, Qian replied. "We'd love to."
"I suppose I'd better start from the beginning, then.
Aynar, our patron god, was - is - a herder. Like us, the Dawar. He lived on the earth by himself - thousands of years ago, according to our wise men - wandering the earth, looking after his flocks. One day, hge met a woman, doing the same. Nai is her name, the patron of the Nanbu, and she became Aynar's wife. Aynar and Nai are, we say, the ancestors of all humanity. They had four sons and four daughters. One son and daughter, the youngest, fathered the Dawar and the Nanbu nad the other tribes of the mountains. The eldest pair wandered east, and all the east peoples spring from them. The other sons and daughters left across the mountains, never to be seen again. Their offspring are the other peoples and tribes that populate the world.
When Aynar and Nai became old, the wise men say they followed. They began the Long Trek up to the roof of the world, far to our west. In life, it is our duty, like Aynar did, to offer food, drink and a roof to anyone who might pass by, for the world rests on all our shoulders and not one person should ever let down their load. In death, it is our duty, just as it was Nai's, to walk the Long Trek until our legs give out or we can climb no higher. That is all that is asked of us."
"You sound like you know the story well," Xin said, after a short silence.
"Well, yes. We learn it at a young age. But mostly, I was reading it."
"How?"
"From
that," she answered, gesturing at the monument. "The monument has inscribed upon it all the details of the lives of Aynar and Nai and their children. This side is a history of Aynar's and Nai's lives. Each of the others deals with the stories of their children, who are also revered and dwell upon the roof of the world. Daiyi and Yia, your ancestors. Usiyi and Ai, our ancestors. And Shen, Qia, Zan and Brei, the Lost Twins who took both the Short Trek and the Long, and ventured further than any people before or since. It is said your Confucius was himself the grandson of Daiyi and Yia. Perhaps that explains why many of our beliefs are similar."
"Well, I suppose it's your Aynar we have to thank for our safe arrival. Thank you very much for your explanation, ... ah, what was your name? I don't believe Qian had the presence of mind to ask."
The girl giggled unexpectedly. "My name", she said, standing and addressing both of them, "is Nai, after the Wise One herself. Many here bear such names, but I am the first to bear that name in the village for over a cycle. They say, although I do not believe them", she added, "that those who bear the name Nai or the name Aynar are destined for greatness."
After Xin walked off to address another villager, Qian spoke once again.
"He always does that to me. It's like even though we're twins, he's volunteered for the responsibilities of the younger sibling. That is to say, the joke is always on me and it never ends."
Nai grinned. "You have no idea. I have three like that to deal with."
As the sun set over the Nanbu Shanqu, the pair kept talking; watching the crowd slowly disperse to their makeshift camp, satisfied with the results of the day's march and fascinated with the new faith the mountains had shown them.
