From EncyclopAtys
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“Pü was finally free. Free to go home to his loved ones. Unfortunately, the fight had not left him unharmed, and a resurgence of pain shattered these positive thoughts. The young Zorai sat up and examined himself: his legs and pelvis were blistered, his skin was superficially slashed in many places, and a third of his right hand had been severed, deprived of a part of his little finger and of his ring finger. It was while looking at his mutilations that he realized that his fire spell had completely cauterized his stump. In addition, four of his ribs were broken. But in the end, all things considered, he was doing pretty well. And above all, his present pain was nothing compared to what he had experienced a few months ago, during the growth of his mask.
- "'Ma-Duk offers us the ultimate pain so that no pain in the world can ever reach his soldiers.'"
As he struggled to his feet, he heard a voice. Pü reflexively tried to draw his absent weapons and got into a fighting stance, looking around for his new opponent. No one. The voice became clearer: Matéis. Pü understood that it came from the general, and that this one had thus survived. This did not surprise him much, however: he had aimed at the motor area of the Matis's brain, not to kill him, but to damage his motor system and thus prevent him from extracting the blade that prevented regeneration. Taking the life of a homin was difficult. And when it was impossible to kill his opponent with one blow, it then became essential to try to reach his regenerative abilities. So, if the Matis had survived, he was unable to regenerate his brain, and was therefore doomed to death. Nevertheless, Pü cautiously moved towards him. For this homin was by far the toughest opponent he had ever faced, except perhaps his uncle and father. As he passed into his field of vision, the Matis, who was looking at the daylight, the dagger still stuck in his skull, put the gaze on him. Blood ran down his face. He articulated with difficulty.
- "My boy, your last stunt was impressive," he said, coughing. "I have never fought an opponent as agile as you."
Pü weighed him coldly without answering. He was congratulating him? He would definitely not forget this opponent anytime soon.
- "Ah, by the way… Forgive me about what I said about your mother and your people. If I cannot condone your customs, I did not mean my insults. Zorais are not savages, just as Trykers are not slaves. And if you are indeed indoctrinated, so are we. I simply wanted to provoke you… which worked out rather well."
Pü couldn't believe it. He had single-handedly decimated half of his squad and would soon kill him. And yet, the general regretted his words and apologized.
- "My boy, my seconds are short. Before I go, I would like you to grant two of my requests. You have won this duel, you are not compelled to accept. However, I ask you to listen to your heart."
Although his mother had told him about the code of honor of Matia officers, this was the first time Pü had observed its application. None of Matia's soldiers he had faced before had ever behaved in this way. The Zorai relaxed and knelt before the Matis.
- "Tell me, I'm listening."
- "Firstly, I would like you to spare and secure Sivaldo, the gunner you knocked out. He is a brave soldier, like many others, and he is also my nephew. But most of all, his soul is particularly beautiful. For too many decades the Matis have spread hate, and suffered it in return. Our people need boys like him. Earlier, you offered me to run away, leaving him to you. If you need one life only, you've already got mine."
- "I accept," said Pü, who would have spared the soldier anyway.
- "Thank you very much," said the general, smiling faintly. "Finally, I would like you to let me sing for my wife and daughter. They are what I hold dearest in Matia. They have since forever been my reason to fight. It is for them above all that I train soldiers and protect the Kingdom."
Tears began to flow and mingle with the blood as he stared back at the day star.
- "If you accept, I will be a fulfilled homin. Died in a magnificent fight under Jena's gaze, in honour of the hominas in my life."
Pü looked discreetly in the direction of where he had caught sight of the Kami. It was no longer there. Deep down, he knew it was wrong to let an enemy utter a pagan chant. But by mentioning his wife and daughter, the general had touched him. How could he not grant his last request? Pü laid a hand on his shoulder.
- "I am listening to you."
- "I knew you would accept," sighed the Matis before clearing his throat. "Close your eyes, let your mind go, and hear the song of the Forest. I am going to accompany it with my voice."
Losing all notion of caution, Pü obeyed him. It was true that in many ways the forests of Matia were full of wonders, which once the eyes were closed, were expressed as much in its fragrant scents as in the soothing rustle of its trees. The silence fell. The general waited for the wind to rise and began his song.
The Mother, I prayed to and fought for Her,
Who as a child lulled me with sweet litanies.
But at the hour of death, my little one and my dear one,
To your sweetness I have returned.
The Karan I served, and I stood up for him
Who early rewarded my thirst for the best.
But it is you, wife and daughter forever in my heart,
Who unsparingly gave me the best.
The Karavan I feared, and on their behalf acted,
So much power did their black machines display.
But it is fear of losing you that makes me despair,
In the last hour that sees life flee from the body.
The Forest I loved, and for Matia often,
Left the artifices of a stiff Court.
But if by some miracle another day were given me,
It is with you both that I would spend my time.
May Jena forgive me and her clerics curse me,
May Aniro disown me and flatterers rejoice,
May Atys swallow me up and forget me forever,
I die full of you, my child, my sweet.Pü opened his eyes again, totally disoriented. His mask was streaming with tears and his heart was racing. He was dizzy and choked noisily. What was happening to him? Was he compensating for all the tension he had built up over those last few weeks? Partly, but not only. That song had completely upset him. It echoed so many things in him: his love for Ma-Duk, which although sincere, would never surpass the love he felt for his brother and especially for his mother; the extreme loyalty he showed to his tribe, whose customs he yet silently cursed; the fear of disappointing his father, whom he knew could deny him; and finally, the fear he felt towards the Kamis, who deprived their followers of freedom under the guise of grand designs. This stranger was in truth so little different from him. He was his mirror, and he had just taken his life. Pü clenched his trembling fists and tried to regulate his breathing. One night his mother had told him about a psychosomatic illness that could cause such symptoms in those who exposed themselves to powerful works of art. This song was one of them. It would scar him for life, he knew. Noticing his agitation, the general called out to him. His diction was getting slower and slower.
- "Get a grip, boy, you have to learn to deal with your emotions. You are heading down so dark a road, one that you have been forced to take, and one that will bring you many difficulties."
For the first time since the beginning of the discussion, the Matis gave him a grave look.
- "I have seen you fight, I have seen the way you do it and how you hold yourself doing it. You may well be an exceptional fighter, but you hate to kill. You are not one of those who get drunk on the blood of their victims. Every time you take a life, it is as if you were killing yourself. You are young, you can still take your destiny in hand and journey towards a happier tomorrow."
If only he knew, thought Pü, recalling Grandmother Bä-Bä's predictions.
- "Come on…. I've made this moment too long…. It's time for me to join my ancestors," he stammered, slumping onto the Zorai.
- "Wait, tell me your name! And those of your daughter and your wife!"
- "I am Sirgio di Rolo…. My wife's name is Virinia…. And our beautiful little girl… Trini…."
Pü held the general's shoulders, and laid him on the ground. He was dead. He closed his eyes and gently dislodged the murderous dagger.
- "Sirgio di Rolo, I promise you to pray every morning for the coming year for the salvation of your daughter. I also commit to bind my soul to yours during my Return Ceremony. I hope you will give me the strength to pursue my destiny."
With these words, the child opened the small satchel that hung on his left thigh. It contained two thin, long instruments which he carefully retrieved. The first was a stem of taleng, twenty centimeters long and one centimeter in diameter, one end of which had been cut to a point. The Taleng, characterized by its green stems formed by a fast-growing, lignified hollow thatch, was found in abundance in the Jungle. The Zorais commonly used it as a material for crafting utensils. The second tool, also made from taleng, was a set of thin, long pliers. Pü stepped over the general's chest and lifted the dead man’s head with his left hand. With his nigh amputated hand, he laboriously pushed the rod into the Matis's right nostril until he could no longer advance it. Then, with a well-aimed palm strike, he perforated his skull. Blood began to flow around and inside the rigid rod, and the child closed his eyes. Although he knew roughly its location, if he wanted to detect his target accurately, he had to silence his other senses. It took him only a few seconds then to discern the imperceptible echo pulsing from within the Matis' skull, reverberating subtly in the surrounding spirit particles. Meditative, Pü gradually pushed the tube into the Matis' brain. Finally, as the Taleng rod reached its destination, he opened his eyes again. Letting the general's head rest on the ground, he took up the thin pliers with his able hand and slipped them into the nasal tube. Although he had to concentrate again to make sure he didn't overshoot his target, a pulsation that was much more prominent than the others confirmed his success. Carefully, he pulled the pliers back and a small, surprisingly firm piece of flesh emerged from the tube, clamped between the prongs. Pü looked at the cocoon of flesh to make sure it wasn't damaged. Inside it was the seed of life, said to be the seat of the human soul. The soul of Sirgio di Rolo. Pü had already been able to observe this fragile treasure, which really looked like a small grayish seed, only slightly longer than a few millimeters. Sirgio di Rolo was well and truly dead, yet he could still make out the echo of his seed of life. Pü had wondered a lot about this echo during his exile. He had even wondered if it could be a signal. A signal from the soul. But a signal to whom? To Ma-Duk, inevitably.
Javings taking off from the underbrush startled the child who instantly came to his senses. Opening one of the small pockets on his belt, he delicately placed his macabre trophy in it. He then repeated the operation on the other three corpses, taking care to place the pieces of flesh in separate pockets. Lastly, he moved on to Sivaldo, the unconscious machine-gunner whom the general had asked him to spare. Like the other soldiers, he must have been about his brother's age. No doubt this Matis was probably considered by his people to be a model of beauty. He was tall and well-built, with long, bright blond braided hair. The harmonious features of his face seemed to have been drawn by hand, and when Pü lifted his eyelids to check his condition, he discovered irises refracting the light like crystal . Unfortunately for the Matis, a long, deep gash now ran across his face. Even if the Zorai would be able to close the wound, he would not be able to completely erase the mark caused by the impact of the shield. He was indeed too weak, and had to conserve enough energy to heal his own wounds.
Once the Matis was treated, he walked to the bush where he had hidden his cubic basket. Pü gently extracted it out of the leaves and placed it on the ground. Satisfied with the location, he cautiously opened the lid, as if it sheltered a treasure. The basket contained an amber cube perfectly embedded in the wicker receptacle, which itself seemed to contain several dozen shapes. He meticulously retrieved one of the pieces of flesh that he had stored in the pockets of his belt, and placed it on the only visible face of the cube. He then had only to imprint his will on the Sap that irrigated it, while pronouncing the famous Stance of Daïsha, so that the bloody mass sinks into the amber altered by the enchantment and freezes there. The use of amber cubes as a storage system had been invented, more than a century earlier, by the famous Hari Daïsha. Now widespread in the Jungle, it was used to preserve objects, but also to store knowledge, magically. Pü repeated the procedure hree times and took care to finish with the general's fragment. He carved the amber over the position of the latter so that he could easily distinguish it from the other pieces of flesh. When he closed the lid of the basket, he let out a sincere sigh of relief. For the first time in weeks, his next day would not be soiled with blood. After that, he patiently watched over the body of the survivor while waiting for reinforcements to arrive. He took advantage of this moment of respite to rest and dress his wounds. Although he repaired his broken ribs and closed his wounds, he gave up trying to regenerate his missing fingers: the mutilation left in evidence ensured him that this day would remain forever engraved in his memory. And when he heard the tumult of the Matis riders echoing in the distance, he disappeared into the darkness of the centuries old trees.
The journey back home took several weeks, but it was smooth. Pü left the endless forests of the Kingdom of Matia and headed south, passing through the Zachini Scars, those dangerous and immense chasms that separated the forested highlands from the lush wet plains, and finally reached the Jungle, his homeland. He had no trouble crossing the Great Wall, which isolated the Zorai Theocracy from the rest of the world, and dodging the border guards, who seemed to rely a little too much on the gigantism of the wall. True, the Bulwark was imposing. But, having climbed it several times, the young homin had a good idea of its condition: unfortunately, the lack of maintenance was seriously felt in some places. One day, enemies of the Zorai Theocracy would topple the wall before Min-Cho or the Council of Elders would know. The child hoped that when the time came, the Zorais would be ready to face the invaders. During his entire return journey, Pü had been plagued by conflicting feelings. Ever since he had been forced to leave his village, his desire to return there as soon as possible had never left him. But if he had hoped to resume a normal life once he returned, he now could not help remembering the last words of Sirgio di Rolo:
- "You are young, you can still take your destiny in hand and journey towards a happier tomorrow."
Was he really able to regain control of his destiny? Could he stand up to the violent customs of his tribe? Would he be able to prevent his brother from leading the bloody conquest that was destined for him? So many questions that had tormented him since his leaving the Kingdom of Matia.
The amber star almost disappearing behind the north-western horizon heralded the dawn when Pü finally reached his destination. It had been many days now since he had passed the Ti-ain River and the Zoran capital, to continue south through the thick jungle. The second star, the day star, was just beginning to recover its brilliance, and swept its faint rays across the panorama that lay before him. The child was taken aback by the sight. After living for several months in the heart of bewitching multicolored forests, he had forgotten the coldness of his world. At the top of the hill, the gigantic dead stump that housed his village stood eerily on the bark covered with stunted and blackened vegetation. The ancestors said that the stump was once the most imposing tree in the land, and that it contained exceptionally rare raw materials. Of course, the Karavan had tried to seize them, and the Kamis had violently opposed it. In a desperate assault, the Karavan agents had deployed a fire-breathing infernal machine. But not just any fire. It was a much more voracious and tenacious fire than usual, which had ravaged a good part of the region before tearing through the ground and continuing its course into the Prime Roots. It is said that even today the fire is still working silently in the depths of the Bark.
The child climbed the hill towards the disturbing tear that served as an entrance. No sooner had the guards recognized him than they bowed deferentially. Pü entered the stump and zipped without missing a beat to Grandmother Bä-Bä's hut. He moved by habit in the tortuous alleys of this strange multi-storey village, and instinctively dodged the roots that intertwined under his feet. The disappointment born from the comparison of the grayish landscape with the hearty forests of Matia had been quickly forgotten, leaving room for memories. He was born here. During his run, he came across several Zorais, who, once their surprise was over, all inclined their heads in a sign of respect. Pü returned their greetings, but avoided talking to them. In any case, he knew that all would soon know of his return. When he got within a stone's throw of Grandmother Bä-Bä's house, his nose pricked up and he saw purple fumes coming from the hut, a sign that the village oldest homina was preparing a concoction. He pushed open the first curtains, and before he had even fully entered the dwelling, the old homina called out to him:
- "I was waiting for you my child, put the amber cube on the altar."
Pü passed the last cloth and saw Grandmother Bä-Bä, standing on a stool and bent in half over a large stockpot. Seeing her like that, crumpled, skeletal and twisted, Pü wondered at what age death became tired of waiting, and gave up trying to intervene. He walked to the altar and put down his basket. The ancestor was stirring a strange smelling mixture with a large wooden spoon.
- "I'm just finishing concocting the drink for your Return Ceremony. Now go find your mother. She misses you terribly."
Pü obeyed and headed for the exit. However, he couldn't resist asking her a question.
"Grandmother, how did you know I was arriving?
Grandmother Bä-Bä clicked her tongue and Pü tensed up instantly. When he was younger, this characteristic sound was often accompanied by a cane stroke. The child's fingers hurt just thinking about it. With a sound, she had just reminded him that she was still the highest authority in the village, and that he should not disobey her.
- "Go, I tell you! And if you want an advice, avoid mentioning precisely how the last encounter you made in the Kingdom of Matia ended, and the doubts you're facing since. The village might not appreciate it, and especially not your father."
Pü pushed aside the curtains that obscured the entrance like an automaton, disturbed both by the accuracy of Grandmother Bä-Bä's knowledge and by the idea that his father might learn the truth about the episode mentioned. However, the reason she had warned him was that she did not intend to reveal it to the Black Mask. Was she on his side? Pü didn't have time to worry any longer. No sooner had he stepped outside than he realized that half the village, including his family, was waiting for him outside the hut.
The reunion went as he had imagined. His father congratulated him only briefly, but his gaze was filled with pride. His brother slapped him hard on the shoulder to show his affection, and then asked him how many victims he had made. For the future Black Mask, that was what mattered most. He was disappointed to learn that his cadet had only been satisfied with the hundred and fifty-one asked, while he himself had made almost twice that number in his time. As for his mother, she collapsed in his arms. Or Pü collapsed into hers. He had to make a considerable effort not to burst into tears in front of the crowd, and had to wait until he was face-to-face with her to let go completely. If his mother comforted him for a long time by covering him with caresses and soft words, she reprimanded him when she realized that he had voluntarily omitted to regenerate his cut fingers. Looï was a great healer, but once a certain period of scarring had passed, some wounds became permanent.
The very evening, the Return Ceremony took place. The entire tribe gathered in the Ceremonial Square where a drink was distributed to each villager, newborns included. It contained an alcoholic mixture of sap in which a cocoon of flesh had been dissolved. The Zorais placed in concentric circles and waited for Grandmother Bä-Bä to arrive, accompanied as always by Pü's mother. Although accustomed to the various rituals that often took place within the community, all held their breath when she raised her arm. The lights of the dwellings overlooking the square flew into her closed palm, and a small sphere of light emerged when she opened her hand. The star flew up to the totem pole and flared, before entering the mouth of a mask. The orifices of the other faces then lit up instantly. The old lady let go of Looï's arm, which had been her support until then, and recovered the bowl she was holding out to her with a trembling movement. She stepped forward to the totem pole.
- "My sons, my daughters, we are gathered tonight to celebrate the return of Pü Fu-tao to us!" the old homina shouted in a strangely amplified voice. "The young boy has returned stronger from his exile in pagan lands, and in possession of the one hundred and fifty-one requested seeds of life! The Great Progenitor salutes his effort. But that is not all! Ma-Duk also entrusted me with something. We are now certain that the Sacred War will begin soon, and that it will be led by our children! Within a few years, we will set out. Guided by the Sacred Warrior, we will march across the world, hunting down the minions of the Karavan relentlessly!"
Pü stared at the beverage filling his bowl, as if mesmerized. The color of the liquid oscillated between purple and black, and small particles of reddish flesh floated on the surface. And then the grayish seed of Sirgio di Rolo emerged. So Ma-Duk had spoken to Grandmother Bä-Bä to tell her that the Sacred War would soon take place? Pü shuddered. He who had spent his return trip dreaming of another future, had just been coldly caught up in reality.
- "Now drink the offering of Pü!" resumed Looï. "Feed on the essence of the Karavan's minions! They will give you the strength to accomplish the divine calling in which we must all participate before long! And if the Great Progenitor wills it, they will then be absolved of their sins!"
The Zorais drank the viscous liquid in one gulp and the parents took care of the youngests' dose. Pü swallowed the horrible mixture without reluctance, still lost in his thoughts. As his people began to sing in chorus the first liturgical songs of the evening, Pü looked sadly at the one he had just found, and might lose again in a few years. He hummed another tune.
May Jena forgive me and his clerics curse me,
May Aniro disown me and flatterers rejoice,
May Atys swallow me up and forget me forever,
I die full of you, my child, my friend.A few more years of enjoying his presence. Then there would be only war, pain, blood and death. The death of others, his own, but maybe also his mother's. Whatever happened, Ma-Duk had to know: he would fight this battle for her first and foremost. Her life was more important than all the Kamis combined. And, much as Sirgio di Rolo, his last words would be dedicated to her.
Belenor Nebius, narrator • Cheng Lai'SuKi, illustrator
