//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: H A Z E // by Bandy //------------------------------// The healing spell twisted Hypha’s dreams into feverish nightmares. In them, he was finally allowed to participate in the mushroom ritual. He donned an orange cloak and followed a line of similarly-dressed monks down into the deepest levels of the temple. As he entered the sacred chamber, he was shocked to see the two Derechans, Grim and Gruff. They loomed over him like stone sentinels. Fog poured from between their teeth. They leaned forward to devour him whole. Cumulus took notice of Hypha’s state when he reported for mushroom harvesting that morning. “Reported” was not the right word to describe it—Hypha crash-landed and almost bowled the elderly monk over. “Go back to bed,” Cumulus said. “You need more rest.” “I’m fine.” Hypha huffed and puffed and rose wearily into the air. “I can go.” Cumulus grabbed his tail and pulled him back to earth. Hypha didn’t have the strength to fight it. “Even if you didn’t fall off the mountain, you’d never find anything in your state.” The look of concern on Cumulus’s face, along with the lingering aftereffects of having his skull cracked and magically mended, broke Hypha’s will to argue. “Ok.” “Get some sleep, then report to the temple at three this afternoon. That’s when we’ll hear your testimony about yesterday’s incident.” He must have seen Hypha’s eyes go wide, because he hastened to add, “Again, you’re not in trouble.” The words left Hypha entirely unmollified, but he was too tired to voice his anxiety. He had just turned around and started to trudge towards his hovel when he felt Cumulus pulling him back. “Wait.” Cumulus gestured to someone behind Hypha. “Wrender, come here.” Hypha spun around to see Wrender walking towards them, his face impassive save a single raised eyebrow. “What is it, elder Cumulus?” “Walk Hypha back to his hovel. He’s not feeling well.” Wrender scowled, but he would no sooner disobey Cumulus than Hypha would. The two navigated the winding dirt path back towards the acolyte hovels in simmering silence. Hypha waited for the taunts to start falling, but nothing came. Wrender spared a few glances his way to make sure he kept up, but otherwise said nothing the entire walk back. When they reached Hypha’s hovel, they both paused, waiting for the other to say something. “Good luck with the harvest,” Hypha finally said. “Thanks. Uh. Sorry about what happened yesterday. That must have been pretty scary.” “I wasn’t scared,” Hypha said defensively. But there was no malice on the other colt’s face. Just the tired look of someone who’d borne witness to violence. “Well. See you later.” Wrender turned around and took to the air. Hypha watched him until he cleared the temple walls. Then he went inside to rest. When Hypha emerged from his hovel several hours later, he found the fog had abated. Sunlight lanced his eyes. Strange, he thought as he blinked away sunspots. The monastery sat just inside the cloud layer—a purposeful bit of planning by the original builders to help conceal it from the outside world. Direct sunlight was a rarity. Other monks took note too, clinging to the shady sides of buildings and pulling their robes over their heads. Without the perpetual mist concealing them, outsiders could see the monastery with its ivy-choked walls and fluttering banners from miles away. Sunlight meant exposure. Sunlight meant danger. He hoped it wouldn’t last long. When Hypha walked in the temple meeting room, the room went dead silent. Forty monks sitting around a central table all paused their conversations and looked directly at him in unison. Hypha flinched. “Sorry. I can wait outside.” It was Hirruck who responded first. “Stay. We understand you’ve been feeling unwell since yesterday. We appreciate you taking the time to see us.” The warmth in Hirruck’s voice surprised Hypha. Cumulus scooted over on his sitting cushion and motioned Hypha over. The young acolyte wasted no time moving into the comforting shadow of his mentor. The attention of the room turned back to Hirruck. He gestured to a large parchment map on the table which depicted the Stonewood mountains and all its surrounding areas. Five-pointed stars marked the nineteen monasteries of the Heavenly Peace order. A few of the larger outsider villages were also marked with plain circles. “This map,” Hirruck announced, “is wrong.” A beat of confused silence passed. Finally, elder Cumulus said, “We’ve been using that map for two hundred years.” “And for those two hundred years, it’s been correct.” Hirruck shook his head. “Now it’s not.” “The mountains may float, Hirruck, but they don’t float away.” Hirruck laughed along with the rest of the assembled monks. “You’re right, Cumulus. The mountains haven’t changed. But I think something else has.” Hirruck opened up several smaller scrolls and spread them over the map. “I’ve been looking through our weather records. In the past five years, we’ve seen rising air pressure driving warm air into the mountains. This is probably what’s caused the recent boom in our wheat crop.” His eyes flicked to Hypha, but didn’t linger. “This is important because if the air pressure gets high enough, it can start to affect the jetstream.” “The jetstream is half a continent away,” Cumulus cut in. “What’s it got to do with the attack?” Using his hoof, Hirruck drew a line along the top of the map from west to east. “At a certain threshold, the pocket of high air pressure here in the south would start to push the jetstream north. If that bubble of high pressure were to suddenly burst, or even just diminish slightly, the jetstream could snap south like a rubber band. Anything caught up in the snap would be dragged east.” His voice rose. “The jetstream can’t move a mountain. But it could move a cloud city!” His words hung in the air, catching the candlelight like dust. “I suppose it’s not impossible,” Cumulus said. “How far east do you think Derecho’s moved?” “It’s hard to say for sure. Could be a few miles. Could be a few hundred miles.” The room exploded. Hirruck did his best to quiet the other monks, but Hypha could see the old monk wanted to shout right back at them. “Listen—please, just listen!” The voices grew louder. “We’ve got word from Yangshuah. From Gleeful. From Shining Rock. These Derechan legionaries are everywhere. Why would they shift their focus all of a sudden?” “Why, indeed,” Cumulus said. “Let’s be generous. Let’s say Derecho moved three hundred miles east. That still puts them nine hundred miles away from us.” “It’s a stretch, I’ll admit. A march of that length would push the limits of logistical capability. But if you take into account the political situation—” More voices drowned Hirruck out. “It’s irresponsible to ignore it. The old fifth legion’s general died six months ago, and this new upstart Romulus needs a successful campaign to prove himself.” “That’s unverified outsider information. What if it’s false?” “This attack is all the proof we need. The Derechans already conquered the entire west of the continent. There’s no place left for the new general to earn his stripes. Except here.” Monks began rising to their hooves, arguing amongst themselves in wavering voices. Their cries knotted Hypha’s stomach. He’d never seen the elders so animated before. So angry. Even Cumulus’s face was twisted with worry. “They’re here!” Hirruck all but shouted. “They’re here right now! And Hypha—” All at once, the room went dead silent. Hypha felt every set of eyes turn to him simultaneously. A cold shiver ran up his spine. He shifted from side to side on his cushion. Earth pony intuition was stalwart and preferred digging in to flying away, but in that moment every bit of his body screamed at him to bolt. “They were my responsibility,” Hypha finally said. “I should’ve stopped them. This is my fault.” Hirruck’s expression softened. The air in the room warmed from deathly cold to just above freezing. “None of this is your fault, Hypha. If anyone’s to blame, it’s us. We put you in danger without even knowing it.” Something in the way Hirruck spoke struck a nerve in Hypha. “But you did know.” Hirruck seemed confused. “What do you mean?” “You knew bringing outsiders into the monastery would be bad news. They’re dangerous.” “Ok, Hypha. We hear you. I asked you here because we need to know if you saw or heard anything that would help us understand why they’re here.” “Why? They hate us. That’s why.” He looked to his side and saw a deep frown on Cumulus’s face. The weight of it was astonishing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak out of turn. I didn’t hear anything about their plans. All I know is, they wanted to get into the temple.” Cumulus stood and draped a hoof over Hypha’s shoulder. “Thank you. We appreciate your candor.” He leaned in close and whispered, “Wait outside.” Hypha left the chamber and did as he was told, busying himself with watching the oil torches burn until the meeting adjourned. He racked his brain trying to figure out what he’d said wrong, but his thoughts kept slipping away before they could solidify. The lingering effects of the healing spell still left his mind shrouded in fog. Maybe that’s where all the cloud cover had gone—right between his ears. The meeting adjourned. Cumulus was the last monk to file out of the temple. His smile was still absent, but his look was far less severe than before. His eyes had a strange faraway look, like he was trying to pick out a lone figure standing on a distant mountain ridge. “I’m sorry,” Hypha said before Cumulus had a chance to speak. “I didn’t mean to speak out like that.” Cumulus patted Hypha on the shoulder and turned him towards the courtyard. He gestured to the sky. “Strange, isn’t it?” The sky had cleared completely. Aside from a few lingering traces of smokey clouds clinging to the neighboring mountaintops, the air was completely clear. The walking paths were packed with monks, shrouded in their heavy cloaks and burdened with an additional layer of shawls and sunhats. “The sun?” Cumulus nodded. “Seems like we’re seeing it more and more these days.” “Does it have anything to do with that warm air and pressure thing Hirruck was talking about?” “Perceptive! Yes, I think so.” He flipped up the hood of his cloak and motioned for Hypha to do the same. “Mosquitohawk spirits will be out in force today.” Hypha nodded and did as he was told. Mosquitohawk spirits were dangerous, impossible to detect beasts. Their bites caused no pain—at least, not at first. Monks who’d been attacked would wake up the next day to find their arms inflamed and blistered red. The iching burn would fade, leaving brown spots at the spot of the bite. The only way to stop them was to not attract their attention in the first place. By covering up, the spirits couldn’t see they were ponies, so they wouldn’t attack. Clear skies brought other monsters, it seemed. “What do you think of Hirruck’s theory?” Cumulus asked. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of general Romulus before.” “Some older monks keep up with outsider politics for practical purposes. But it’s not something I like discussing with acolytes. I’m making the exception now because you’ve been dragged into this mess, and you deserve to know what’s going on.” Hypha smiled. Hearing that made him feel more grown-up. “Maybe they’re out here looking for easy targets, and because we put up a fight yesterday, they won’t bother coming back.” “But why send only two of them? We know they’re here now.” Hypha thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know.” “Try to imagine it from their perspective. What would this monastery look like to someone who’d never heard of the order before?” “Tall? Mountainy? I’m sorry Cumulus, I just don’t know. I’m not one of them.” Cumulus chuckled again. This time it sounded sad. “You’re not as right as you think you are.” “What do you mean?” “Hypha, we’re all family here. Everything I say, I say out of love. You have the potential to be a great leader, but there are many lessons you need to learn before you can assume that sort of responsibility.” He paused to consider his next words. “One of those lessons is empathy.” “Empathy? I love the other acolytes. I know I argue with Wrender a lot, but I don’t hate him.” “I’m not talking about the other acolytes.” “Then who?” His own question crystalised the answer in his mind. “Them?” “It’s one of life’s most important lessons. This monastery isn’t a monolith. There’s a whole world outside these walls, and if you want to progress in your studies and live up to your potential, you need to learn about what’s out there.” “What’s there to learn?” Hypha snapped. His head started throbbing again. He turned away, and the first thing his eyes found was the farm area in the middle of the compound. The remains of yesterday’s lost harvest still sat on the ground, rotting into compost under the harsh sun. “They have nothing to teach me.” Cumulus said something, but Hypha wasn’t listening. All he could think about was the map of the stonewood mountains, his entire known world. Where its western border ended, he tried to imagine the vast cloud city of Derecho floating above the parchment. Thoughts of cities in the clouds kept him awake that evening. The healing spell finished working its way through his head, but the fog still lingered. After a few hours of staring at the ceiling, he gave up trying to sleep and slipped outside. The sky was still clear, and the stars were out. He’d seen stars a million times before, but never directly from the monastery. They looked unsettlingly like eyes. He wished the mists would roll back in already. Soft hoofsteps sounded behind him. He turned around to find elder Cumulus coming down the path. “I knew you’d be out here,” Cumulus said with a wink. “How?” “Sometimes we just know what we need to know.” The old monk stopped short of Hypha and gestured towards the temple. “There’s something I want to show you.” The interior torches in the temple were still lit for the few monks who wanted to practice late-night meditation or get a few extra hours of work in while the rest of the world slept. The shadows seemed darker down here. Hypha wondered if there was magic in them, too. Cumulus took him deeper into the temple than he’d ever been before, into a small room about the size of his hovel. Parchment stacks lined the wall from floor to ceiling in a chaotic spread. Some were labeled. Most weren’t. “One of these days, I’m going to organize this,” Cumulus muttered. He went to one of the stacks towards the back of the room and started thumbing through papers. When the papers became too high for him to reach, he floated into the air. Hypha marveled at how effortlessly the old monk achieved flight. Cumulus pulled a massive dust-covered book from the pile. He set it on a table in the middle of the room and motioned for Hypha to come closer. The book was as thick as it was wide. Hundreds of loose pages were stuffed in between the bound ones. “This is the record of all the new births and adoptions for the order,” Cumulus said. Hypha let out a gasp and looked away. Monks weren’t supposed to know which of them were natural births and which ones were adopted from the outside world. “Look here,” Cumulus said. “It’s okay. Everyone finds out eventually.” He thumbed through a few of the newer pages until he found the entry he was looking for. Hypha looked. His own name was there on the page, written in Cumulus’s handwriting. “I’m an orphan,” Hypha said softly. “From one of the poorest, unfriendliest villages on the entire continent,” Cumulus said with a soft chuckle. “I was out there with a few other monks purchasing supplies when we found you. You were about six months old, still too young to take care of yourself. Someone had abandoned you a day or two before we arrived. If we’d been delayed even one day, you certainly would have died.” Hypha’s stomach flipped. His name on the page looked so ordinary. Had he really almost died as a foal? “Who are my real parents, then?” “Us. The monks. Your birth parents are irrelevant. Family is whoever raises you up.” Cumulus slid the book over to Hypha. The pages were warded with preservation spells that made his hooves tingle when he touched them. He turned a few pages back from his own and leapt ten years into the past. Another few pages, another decade. He turned a quarter of the book over and saw names four hundred years old. “How far back does it go?” Hypha asked. “See for yourself.” Hypha turned to the very last page of the book. The page had deteriorated slightly, and the wards were even stronger in order to hold the decaying page together. He could barely read the names, but the dates stood out clearly. The last one in the column read, 10,796. Hypha’s eyes went wide. This was the roster of the founding members of the Roseroot monastery. The names on it were nearly two thousand years old. In the column containing parents’ names, someone had made a crude drawing of a snow leopard.