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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1116859-ValleyOfDust
by Speck
Rated: E · Chapter · Fantasy · #1116859
these can be read in any order - trying to gain a feel of my characters before I dive in.
Despite its name, the Valley of Dust was actually a lush, green grove well populated with forest, and complimenting stream that branched off like the roots of trees, as it affectiously became interlaced with the landscape.
The name itself was more of a reference to the history of the place. Un-concealable from even that of the canopy trees, one could see tall pagodas soaring in their heights; these ancient and well-cared for structures were landmarks for visitors who did not know the land .
Faye Tigart was one of these people, she felt like a tourist in her own country, as she had been away for so long. Yet the women knew to continue following her instincts; the days of being a girl in training as Maiden of the shrine amounted to little more then a foggy dream now, and the world looked so different, though even as one bamboo field led to another, she pushed on.
A shriek of thunder pierced the heart of the sky, and her own, like an arrow, and as drowning rain overwhelmed the land, she heard an imaginary voice accusing her of trespassing. “Was that real… my Eidolon? Oh god, has my own Eidolon disowned me?!” a moment of silent, unexpressed panic; then it passed.
She realized it was merely fear, very loud, but less then omnipotent, and she pressed on. Soon a silhouette formed in the distance; they were the Pagoda’s, looming large, but unmoving in the maelstrom of chaos that was the earth all around it.
Faye ran to escape the rain, and possibly salvage some of her business papers later on; as it seemed that her tan leather carrier bag had been thoroughly drenched, not that any of it much mattered now. The last 8 years, what were they all for? Just fitting into a role, and being that successful person. No better then school when the immature child wanted to be popular; the child would be parent to the adult it seemed, but that thought was abandoned as she reached the steps of the Pagoda of the Leviathan.
Above her was the gateway, two ten foot tall pillars built of turquoise and teal river rocks, each holding a circler lantern on top and spanned by a metal serpent, its eyes gleaming in the mist and rain with the red jewels that signified the statue of a powerful spirit. Followers of the faith walked between the Gateway to be cleansed; and for most this was enough, but the women now standing before it - with her amber hair messily whipping about in the wind, and her eyes burning from a tainted rain, she needed answers, and that could only be found in the structure itself.
A door opened and from it emerged a stocky little thing wearing a simple brown hooded robe and cloak; both articles of clothing appeared to be made from potato sacks. Faye stumbled back and gasped, then regained her composure.
“ I frightened you” the degenerate little thing said in a matter of fact tone; its voice was a whisper and she couldn’t immediately recognize if the person standing before her was man, women, boy, or girl.
“Would you like to come inside, Faye?” The thing asked. She gasped again and was interrupted before she had the chance to speak, “Because I remember the last time you were here.” It said, “Just a child back then.”
“Oh no wonder; I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognize you.”
“Of course not - I’m hooded.” Without further explanation it beckoned her inside and she followed a few paces behind. Whatever the thing was it didn’t frighten her, nor give off any other signs of danger. Her years dealing in politics had made her confident to be a fine judge of other’s intent, and this encounter, though unusual, was no different in nature.
They stepped into the interior, with the pull of a small chord and a blast of air, the doors slammed shut. The room was poorly lit with candles and it took her eyes a moment to adjust, and soon she began seeing it more from memory then present day reality. The ascending stairways, corridors leading off to antechambers, and basement trap doors. For many years these Pagoda’s had been a place of many uses but now they hardly scrapped on by as attractions to tourists.
“My name is Yasune” it said, now sounding drunk with an old memory, and for a moment the hood fell back just enough for the eyes to shrine through. Two black irises rimmed with a piercing yellow that projected the feralness of a wild cat. “I look after this place, now that our faith has no Shrine Maidens left” Faye diverted her eyes. Leaving her people for the more Westernized world did not cease to cause her any less guilt now then it did before, and due to the unusualness of Yasune’s voice, she could not be sure if this was a simple statement of fact or an outright accusation against her integrity.
“I’m not sad that I didn’t stay” Faye blurted, seemingly to herself; “To never have had the opportunity to see the world, and miss out on all of those experiences that has helped shape who I am.”
“Oh?”
“And it wasn’t just one long pleasure cruise either, I’ve made a difference in a lot of people’s lives - more so then one could ever hope to achieve here!”
“Then why come back at all?” Yasune said as he glided across the floor and sat down on a sturdy wooden bench that creaked, suggesting that he weighed a whole lot more then what could be easily guessed.
" I don't really know what the problem is; its like all this time I've had some grand goal to shoot for that’s justified everything that I've done so far - and everything that I haven't done, then one day I got so caught up in life that I forgot what that goal was." She hunched down and started digging through her backpack; she reached for a glass bottle but didn't realize her hands where shaky until she lost her grip on it and the thing shattered against the floor - spewing cheap wine all over the tiles.
Faye looked shocked for a full moment then stood to bow; despite her being an older women, almost 35 now; her eyes gained the look of a child as her face was flooded with guilt - the little hooded thing for the first time made a sound of amusement.
“Don’t cry over spilt milk” he mumbled, then exited through an antechamber and returned again with two rags and a pale of water. “We shall clean this floor in a way that also cleanses us as well” he said and handed her one of the dark gold and red rags. It had a texture almost as sturdy as leather and she doubted its ability to absorb anything at all, yet she took it with an air of duty and began scrubbing the floor while the little hooded man disposed of the glass.
As the women worked she began to detect a low humming, almost out of range of her hearing. It was as persistent as a electrically powered machine, but instead of being a screeching drone it sounded like a pulse. Yasune had grabbed a rag and began working beside her, and suddenly she realized that he was the source.
“Don’t you remember this song?” he said.
“No I’ve never heard it before!”
“Of course you have, we all know this song, it flows in harmony with the air and universe around us, waiting to be gathered by an aware mind.”
He continued on, scrubbing the floor with gentle strokes of his hand and cloth, and miraculously it came clean - the liquid absorbed into it like a sponge with no traces left behind. Faye scrubbed vigorously but failed horribly. Her stiff cloth just pushed the wine around like a squeegee and a moment passed where she thought angrily that he had purposely given her a bad rag. Yet she kept the rag moving, determined to make it work. “It just needs time to soften up” she thought to herself, “here I go again blaming my shortcomings on other people when its me that’s the problem”.
Soon she was humming, and together their voices grew louder until the combined force echoed off the walls and tiles, adding to the song, making it complete. What was so mundane before become a surreal experience - like the first time she had gone to a concert - the bright lights, people, and music was overwhelming but exhilarating. Her whole life she had been living inside a dark house, until the door opened and the women was blinded by a summer’s day - metaphysically her eyes ached, as she was in the few moments before they had a chance to adjust, but when they did she looked down to the reflection of her own face - the floor was clean.
“Looks like I’m finished” Faye said.
“Not nearly” he retorted, “go clean out your rag in the Well, its also used for drinking but the water comes from an underground river - you could dump a body in there and it’d still be fresh.”
“How nice to know, I’ll have to remember that - it might come in handy someday.” The Well she remembered from many years ago; it sat in the corner of the room in a hexagon basin. With both hands she pushed up on the lid until it grudgingly moved out of the way. The rag had barely reached the water when she suddenly found herself submerged as well; the currents were icy cold and already her muscles had been paralyzed to the point of numbing uselessness. Faye Tigart barely had time to realize that it had been Yasune who must of pushed her. Then the lid was slammed shut, cutting out all the light, and the darkness had formed like a solid wall. Her tears of surprise and shock merged with the river before they could fully form.
The water came rushing into her lungs, Faye gasped one more time then died, and the darkness really did become absolute.

“Meditate well” said Yasune, he removed his head and immediately the body manifestation dissolved, freeing the beings consciousness to roam the Pagoda unobstructed.
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