Whitecaps foamed, splashed against a lonesome canoe. Like a frail cocoon, it sailed in the middle of a profuse stream. But its course it kept, firmly, steadily wrestling against the weapons of nature. And the human being toiled, with sweat and effort. But the raving torrent was soon behind the hills, and a calmer upper course smiled ahead. Narrowed this black, exhaling flux had, but still as wide as the open sky, it laid its tentacles across the panorama.
The banks were white, sparkling when the sun touched them. Immense conifer forests told the sagas of untouched wilderness. Back there, mountains shadowed the sky, rising as imperial beings over the clouds. But a half of their splendor was stolen now, as a field of white mass had gathered to hover high above the treetops. The sun roared somewhere beyond there, but frustrated it had to give up. Its path was meager in the near polar night. Soon it was captured behind the horizon. Long shadows were drawn with ink and grey paint, as the early afternoon turned to nocturne.
But at the moment, a pale light still fluttered as a calming gauze in the air. The brown elfin cocoon cradled among the mist. Two paddles guided it forwards, towards a little side river. About a mile ahead, its furrow became deeply buried amid high cliffs, meandering there like an ebony snake. Ostensibly, this fellow was not quite content with its big sister, Lirilirilori. Far, far away it isolated itself from the main bourn. After it had had its own adventures, it seemingly crept ashamed back. Maybe it was safer beside the mightier sibling than to roam singly.
But towards this rebel the canoe headed. A detour it was, but more placid than the queen itself. Whereas Lirilirilori formed waterfalls and whirlpools during the next miles, this merciful wet serpent dived occasionally even under the rocks. And an escapade was this side flumen itself, since its shores trolled about history, myths. A few manly pushes, and the boat was separated from the main course. The aching arms could rest a little, as only a gentle thrust was enough to fight against the waves.
Two days Buzz and Yoka had traveled together. The atmosphere felt odd for the both of them, as being here now quarantined abaft the civilization. As he pondered, scaled his feelings, he admitted that it felt a bit irritating to see a woman handling men's things as well as the masculine counterpart. She could survive here in the hard, ruthless boondocks better than he. Under that slim, a bit thin form was deep-rooted energy. Those spunky muscles handled the cascades, the tacking. Whereas he stood hesitant his thumb in his mouth, the girl had already taken the lead. But then again, this was her home, this was what she had used to. If someone had slammed an ASIC in front of her, or asked her to design something in VHDL, poor Yoka-hanen would have found her clumsy digit scratching her hair too.
However, there was also admiration. Admiration that grew every second. Buzz did not understand why his heart yearned to stay in her presence. Sometimes a peculiar itch tinkled in his abdomen when he watched her rowing figure sitting in front of him, back against. What on Geonosis was the matter with him? A light discussion usually fanned this abashing feeling away, but then it somehow lurked back. Strange, strange…
Then again, Yoka could feel his piercing stare targeted to her back. She did not want to show how she sensed it, but her black hackles were assiduously up. What did this man want from her? Why had he after all suggested going somewhere, away from Kaleva, away from her father's presence…? What could the skeptical woman have known about him? So far the wild imagination went, that it pictured him taking her life away and burying her comatose being somewhere in the unknown forests. An irritating 'gift' that needed to be gotten rid of… No one would be there to witness anything. The half-worshipped male could just whistling walk away, and slip every law.
But was that not a naïve and stupid prejudice? She spat at her own terrors, trying to act as natural as possible. Still… nothing could fade the fact that he had been kind to her just for a few days. And after all, he never had given a proper explanation why he had maltreated her in the first place. Now that silent staring… a few times she had asked Proud Crescent to sit in the fore, but the results were depressing. He could not lead, moreover the Captain was a hazard. The boat could afford no capsizing. This culture did not know life jackets. So if he would make a tiny mistake, the icy larynx of the black river awaited. So it was safer to let her supervise… and tolerate that weird gaze.
But serene was the paddling along the little river. A little wind whispered in the bottle-green spruces, their white hats contrasting with the strong, deep color. Even so, gradually the gray stone took over them, forming a majestic masonry on the both sides. The channel was now like a castle moat, the sharp high rocks behind there were the towers. In the half-dark afternoon, a mystery seemed to soar all around.
"Beautiful…" Buzz kept nodding.
"The fishermen that dare to climb up Lirilirilori, usually do use this passage. But it is older than our chronology tells. You see it… right here." Yoka turned her eyes over her shoulder, pointing at the furrow's wall. That was not just solid stone any more, but chiseled boulders. Masterly they were set one upon another without mortar. Where nature had lazed, a crafty hand had continued the incomplete labor.
His brows were drawn up. "You mean… the Suur-Kalevans built this?"
"Well, I do not know it strictly, but so do the lyrics tell. The viisaat sometimes sing about a ruler that lived before the lentolaiset were born. Those were the ones who were told to be able to fly with the wings of Kokkolintu. Viisas Mujunokka was one of the first great kings of Suur-Kaleva, one of those who shared and developed their wisdom. It is told that he built this channel. 'Kolme varista, istui aidalla… silivatiseilaa, silivatiseilaa, yksi lensi pois…'" she fumbled some immemorial song with a deep voice.
An airy smirk brought his mouth corners up. "Interesting. And why did you say you can't sing? That sounded nice."
She turned her regard down. "No, I cannot sing. Maybe a little, but never, never like my honorable father. He knows by heart almost every legend written, and the way he plays the zither… I… I cannot. That gift was never granted to me. And as a teenager… well… I was never accepted in the choir of the daughters of suuremot. It was a shame for my honorable father because… I do not know what you value somewhere behind the rainclouds and thunder, but rune singing is our most respected custom. Yes, I was a shame again for honorable Vainamoinen. My too-deep, rough and loud voice did not go together with the bright sopranos. So I was a shame, and earned my whipping."
With a nasty taste in his mouth, Lightyear listened. This girl did not seem to have had a very smooth life. Obviously she did not quite fit into the cultural die press, but was somehow an outsider. Maybe that had pushed her into the wilderness. And then he had appeared and maltreated her more.
"I… I don't care if they say this or that!" he attempted comforting, "Well at least I think it sounded nice. Heh, by all the antigravity suspenders, I can't drum even a tin can, not to mention then singing! But I can defend the universe and…" the utterance got stuck. The bark of his conscience sneered in the middle. "You need goodness to defend the universe. And you failed in goodness. Don't be proud of things you fail. Crawl back, admit your flaws, and throw your pride once away. You can't defend the universe as the person you created out of yourself. Wake up, Buzz Lightyear."
He hacked the unfinished sentence away. "Uh… no. I don't know if I can defend even the universe any more. I don't know what I can. But I know you can sing. Uh, well, I liked it. So don't underestimate yourself. I… uh… well… if you want to… go on with the legend, I'd… like to hear more."
Stupefaction. It was Yoka's luck that her back was there to hide her puzzled countenance. Stillness. He had used to command her to be quiet. To shut up. By the stump chips, why would Proud Crescent voluntarily want to hear any croaking with a false note? And almost away from the boat she balked, as a hand was set on her shoulder. Absorption into the thoughts had had the governance over her.
"What's the matter?" The question was soft.
"N-nothing, I…" No courage to look at the man. And the canoe needed steering.
"Well, would you then sing to me? It's quiet here, the water won't interfere with your voice."
A bemused caw rasped deep from her throat, trying to fulfill his wishes. But it grew clearer, as the story of viisas Mujunokka and his era went on. "Laukkaa ratsu reima, hei reima, hei reima…" The mute wind accompanied the husky melody, and the boat advanced in the black water.
An hour passed. The light was almost swallowed, but the day would still go on. Two lanterns were lit to lie in the bottom of the transport. Here, in the arms of this rebel serpent, it was safe to paddle even in the dark. There were no dangerous shallows, no insidious traps. It was moreover like a canal, as the ancient songs had recited. Initially the Kalevan kept humming something called Urkin parempi humppa. Infrequently the river dived now under either hand-made or natural stone tunnels. Complex pictography enchanted their walls, where the sphere of the lantern kissed the cold rock. Buzz was quite sure he could distinguish some of the same persons in them that were shaped as statues in Kaleva. But mostly they were different. An old man with a zither, swearing a younger male inside a swamp … a smith forcing a roundish mill of some kind… a young, vengeful man cursing something a hand in the air… Buzz was drifting inside an epic. Cupolas were curved above his head; the dark-blue, brisk air breathed around. And as the last tunnel was behind, a wondrous view filled his senses. The carvings turned to statues, rising high in the both sides of the flumen. Their austere characters were outlined against the shadowy sky, floating in the very last blink of light. Time had not perished their majesty, although their models and paragons had faded away, turned to dust. The stern stone faces greeted the yawl, guarding the last hundred meters of this tributary. Vainamoinen's rune singing echoed in his ears, as he recalled the masterpiece Kalavale. Although the captain had been so ignorant then, he still summoned up. He was a Kalevan himself, now, and this was perhaps his blood now too.
Lirilirilori met its little sister again. And there ended the odyssey of the canoe. Too shady it was to continue any longer today. A night in a camp awaited, alike yesterday. The trek advanced a bit tardily, but that was Lightyear's wish. The village's absence freshened up his feelings, here he could be his own sovereign. If Buzz had foreseen his current behavior two weeks ago, he would have fainted in shock. Where was the hero that worried about the state of the Galaxy? Worried about the schemes being intrigued around him? Not even his adorned space ranger uniform he had on, but it had been left in its peace in Kaleva. Fringed suede trousers, moccasins and a soft leather jacket were more comfortable to wear. And progressively the frost had stopped bugging him too. Frost, so what? It was a bit cool, but everything could be handled. A good fire and some pelts, and there was enough warmth… if not to mention the certain female he now almost forced to sleep in his arms. She was somehow so nice to hold, so mellow he by some means suddenly considered finding her pressed against his chest after the night's dreams. Yoka had not dared to ask why he wanted her not to slumber in her own post, but had yielded to his whims. Today his behavior had again been so strange that compared to it, it was merely nothing to fall asleep under his arm. And after all, the girl had to admit it… it did feel bland. So it should have been perhaps from the very first night on, unless the faith-lethal inferno had not stepped instead.
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Some time went by; two mornings glistened and faded away. Buzz did not want to hasten the journey. With every breath, he enjoyed the tart air's nip, the silent freedom. So happy he felt to have her by his side, although clearly sensing the fear under her cover.
The mountainside of Suur-Kaleva rose in the highnesses in front of two tiny figures. A quantity of lone eagles soared somewhere above the eternities, their eerie cries only bewailing. The city of dead, lost, forgotten… Buried it was, made to be just a shadow. It was allowed to subsist only in the runes, not to be stepped in with a man's shoe. But now the hush had been disturbed. However… what could a cold rock do? Šeol could not spit its victims suddenly out. No reason for angst.
Lirilirilori had leaded the mates towards a mountain range. Occasionally the tops had been sharp as needles, occasionally carved, formed into giant sculptures. History had its nostrils here, everywhere it breathed. The suurihmot had been skilful architects, perhaps even obsessively had pressed their fingerprints everywhere. Ultimately the golgotha was achieved. At the side of a sleeping volcano, the grand city had been once dug. Even though a glimmering snowfield covered everything, now, the ancient lava's serpentine stripes could be seen in the stones that had their pale heads above the white feathers. Forest grew here and there, however mostly the steep hillside was bleak. As if the green plants had detested it.
The canoe was heaved up from the river, and set to lie beside a tree. A small camp was established as every night before: A little warm teepee, a bigger fire outside to keep the beasts away, and a minor one inside the hut to keep it snug. At it, the rations were roasted, and Yoka-hanen could go on with the legend-telling.
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"Uhh this place gives me the creeps!"
A dank, dusty stone hall echoed the whisper back. Some particles were wafted down from the commanding vault. A fire danced, making the stones wroth. Faces, frozen faces… statues, pictography. Suur-Kalevan's obsession. Self-importance, windiness. Although, maybe an imposing people were allowed to brag like that.
Yoka did not hear Buzz. She stood, back against, looking at one mural. It was bitter, wistful to touch this place. It reminded her too much of her destroyed freedom, as if she had suddenly become one with the deceased city. His cold yells… her father's ignorance… a trap for the little mousie that could not behave.
He did not see the hampered sorrow. The woman gulped the burning coals down, not willing to yammer it all out. She had the surmises furthermore… regardless the passed few days. A broken heart was not healed that fast. Here, in the shades of this forgotten place, the bizarre male would have his freedom to accomplish anything. Even leave her to turn to dust with the collapsing rooms.
So had the couple crawled inside the mysteries. Yesterday had been just mere wandering along the wide hillside, getting stumbled to stones. Lightyear had been growingly interested in the erosion-revealed houses she had detailed. Exactly why, he did not know. Perhaps compassion of willing to know about her curiosities, or then some zeal towards the tens of tales he had put her blabber. Yet, under there was also some other pip squeaking. The Suur-Kalevans had known technology, no doubt of that any longer. Conceivably similar kinds of things he was accustomed to in his modern existence. Somehow familiar things kept jumping in the metrical cantos. Associations, assumptions, strange nets of neurons… maybe the windy coolness here had vented the last aspergilluses out of his pate. Who knew, maybe, but just maybe, he might find something aid in here…? E.T. had phoned home, before. It was not trapped on Earth till its passing. And so had Buzz still a frail hope, although it was definitely not the main thing here. Just a side thought… maybe to find something that could help him to contact his world? Yet, the principal claim was to make her feel delight. To do something she had wished.
This day had opened again with roaming. Yoka-hanen did not remember past the years, so the original building she had lurked in as an adolescent, was never located. The erosion presumably had tucked it up again, or then it was swallowed by the snow. Nonetheless, towards the noon, this place was found. As they had sat down at the roots of one larger tree, on one of those rare, more fertile spots of the hillside, abruptly a gap had been revealed. Buzz had almost fallen in it, as taking a comfortable pose by leaning his back against a steady-looking rock. A thick pine's root had bypassed it from above, and a little snow cover had made it a form. But as his wide back had touched it, the whiteness had deceived, and a hole was behind there. No doubt, the 'steady rock' around it belonged to a wall, and the crude redwood had made a rift into it. Knock, knock, knock… a gate inside the secrecies was unlatched.
Yoka remembered that she once had padded along some chambers that were for everyday living. Or so she had years, years ago speculated. This was… something else. Lightyear's suggestions teetered around civic centers and museums.
Two hours had passed, before the present hall was reached. A zigzagging wondering-tournée had been directed leftwards, towards the bare bank. The crack had been a roof corner of some room, so with a rope the intruders had slid themselves down. Almost empty spaces ahead. Strange metallic cubicles decorated the ceiling line everywhere. Dust, dust, dust… chappy flooring tiles, partly collapsed structures. Every wall was supercharged with carvings. The hidden windows had a lava sealing. Still, amazingly well the entity had survived. Regardless that the Purkaus had been the end of one grand civilization.
"Craters, why does it always have to be wandering in corridors?" Buzz made a chuckle. The ambiance had transformed into an agonizing silence. "I mean, this is not the first time I've been in adventures. Planet Z had always shadingly purple tunnels, then I remember I visited another galaxy… and even there were tunnels! Though… they were very messy and icky. But I guess it's sort of a cliché. Well…" His forced smile curdled. She did not answer anything. Just stood there back against him, staring at that one effigy. So on a quarter ago, this immense hall had been achieved. Its purpose was unknown, but every inch of the wall space was setting a scene for stone figures. There were tiny ones and those reaching several meters. All they had their emotionless faces looking at the middle floor. The single lantern he held in his hand, could not exhibit but a fraction of it at once.
Softly his footsteps thudded in the acoustics. Her thin shadow stood still on its spot. The captain tried rising on his toes to catch her expression, but blackness devoured it. Yet, he could envisage the heavy-heartedness. He set the light on the floor, wined his arms around her from behind. His cheek was left to rest on her shoulder.
"What are you thinking?" A practically mute question.
"I am… thinking… I do not know, Proud Crescent." Her pose did not turn about to meet him. However, over her anconal he could peep at the target of gazing. She had stagnated an eternity in front of this lifeless stone. It pictured two persons, a young woman with an elder man. Pondering… was this some kind of metaphor for her? Lightyear sensed very well that she was roving in her illusions. Did she see herself in that similitude? Whatever it was, those dreams were not about flowers and sunny fields.
Yoka-hanen held back a tiny tear. Yes, maybe she saw herself in that form, somehow. But mainly it was the spiritless lapidary that cast a gloom. In front of it, she considered herself as a failure. A woman, who had failed in everything. Things were expected so much, but what could she fulfill? Then, insecurity. The statue at least had a guardian, the rocky girl did not need to stand in unsafeness.
Obviously the space ranger perceived the timidity, what was under it. "Maybe we should go on. I see that you don't like this room."
Yoka felt stinging in her nose. He wanted to go deeper into this deadness? But who was she to complain? She was made to follow her owner, in any case.
More fusty parlors. Stairs. Some were blocked by slips, so that other passages were needed. And still no principle for this solitude. Maybe these lounges had contained something, but probably before the doom, someone had had time to carry away the valuables. No mouth was there to tell. There were occasionally seats, half-decayed curtains made of some very strong fabric, and always those cubes going along the wall-ceiling junction. More statues. Yet the mood achieved some lightness as Buzz started joking about those stone figurines. He actually could make her even smirk with a tale about his friend, who was so egocentric that wanted to decorate everything with his face on it. Hearingly this popinjay had effigies of him in some athletic poses all around his mansion –whatever strange word that was then.
One corner-turn was behind. Both Yoka and he winced a little. A bright ray of sunlight shone through a petty chasm in one upper wall. Erosion had brought this building even more out of its tomb.
"You know, then there's my father." Buzz went on with his small talk. "He's not putting his mug everywhere, but has other kinds of obsessions. He's maybe becoming a bit doating…"
What the jesting captain had not noticed, was that the floor under his heavy gaits was rifting. Perhaps the centuries' pressure had made it crunchy, and when a man possessing over a hundred kilograms of weight padded along it, it could not cohere. One more stride, and a nasty rustle chimed. The tiling shattered, and he began falling.
"Look out!" Yoka left a shriek, prostrating herself at the split's edge.
"AAAAAAAHHHHH!" his aghast shriek deafened her ears. The floor had vanished, dropped into a sable abyss. She still could see his hand, falling… a crude monster or not, she would not let him disappear inside that havoc. Spasmodically, her arms jerked forwards, her fingers extended themselves towards the pale hand…
…to be continued…