Sassan and the Hema

*Reference the glossary for unfamiliar terms at the end of the tale*

Haath’Loma was erupting again. The moons had just risen, casting their soft green glow over the dense jungle when the air began to charge and crackle with anxious anticipation. The sky suddenlty shattered with blinding splinters of lightning. Thunder shook dust from the walls and dared the clouds to drop into the sea. And, after three days of nauseating quakes, the two craters of Haath’Loma began belching smoke. Sulfur hissed and plumes of noxious gas coughed into the night until both moons were obscured. The enan side of the cone cracked open into a long and jagged fissure; and from the fissure oozed a slow and swollen bulge of haath that groaned under pressure and tumbled desperately down the slopes. The haath gained momentum as it snaked its way down the loma and began racing across the land. Trees burst into flame and then were swallowed whole. Fish ponds were licked up in the heat; the village, having been neatly packed and humbly evacuated mere hours after the earthquakes began, were decimated. The People of this lush, volcanic land were accustomed to a degree of displacement…

Ne'ana had woken from her slumber to find the pondwater in her cave rippling and sloshing in grotesque, unpredictable leaps. Ne'ana could feel the sun was rising, though she could not see through the fog. She stepped from her cave and flew out above the chaos, hoping to locate a gora that had been left behind or perhaps a coa separated from his drove. Swooping lazily through the billowing smoke, she sought one final, easy meal before her yet-incubating aha'i'Hema broke through their shells and received Bai. Hema always hatched with the haath.

She had witnessed the wrath of haath’Loma two times in her life. Two times had the Omu raised their shisa beneath the stars and warned The People to flee ’enan; two times had the land ripped open, stitched by a blistering ribbon of haath as it raged toward the sea. Two times had the haath flowed ’Monu’a’Esha.

Ne'ana felt the long, sharp spines along her back harden as she realised the haath was racing toward the runa quarry: this was a variable she had not imagined. The People had been mining for one enka. A small grain of runa was discovered in a freshly dug well. The icy waters that sprang from the depths kept the runa in its generous and more manageable state: when chilled, runa could cure any malady known to The People in an instant. All one needed was to soak an unfaceted pebble of the gem in their drinking water, take one tempered sip, and experience full restoration. But runa, when heated, became the most destructive force in their realm. Whatever unfavourable outcome of life could be imagined, runa could -- and would -- deliver. Runa melted quickly, emitting a thin, colourless, and highly volatile gas with a piercing shriek. Molten runa mirrored the very frequency of fear.

The Omu had warned The People to stay their greed and save the crystal at the temple, for all to access as they had need. The People were traditionally humble, obedient creatures: eager to please, and grateful for the guidance of their resident mystics. But The People could not be convinced. Not this time, not with so much convenience, so much power, at stake. And so, The People began to mine. They flooded the mine with water and babu to keep it cold, and took turns diving into their chasm to carve into the massive deposit of the most precious gem.

But now came the haath. Ne'ana didn’t need to hum to portend: destruction was clear, inevitable and immediate. The runa screamed as it melted. It flooded wildly out of the mine and across the fields, a veritable sea of blood. The haath forked into two streams as it slipped across the crimson lake: it continued toward the sea, and it barrelled its way toward the Old Valley – toward the very caves that Ne’ana called home.

Ne'ana was now flying at breakneck speed toward her cave, watching in horror as that relentless red raced toward the temple, the sacred lam’Omu. There was nothing to be done: the temple collapsed spectacularly upon impact: shards of stained glass blasted from the windows, the thick alabaster walls were reduced to powder, and the ancient, sacred structure was swept into the wind…

Ne'ana had slept in her cave, guarded the streams that passed through and around it, and hummed the sun into rise for nearly two-thousand enka. She had always felt safe. She had always been fed: the village placed her ayoon’i’assa for her own mother when Ne'ana was still Bai, waiting to be inhaled. She had spent one full enka weaving a massive and mesmerising macrame of mossy branches, palm fronds, and seaweeds: her laano. She had laid her two eggs in the laano and hummed out across the streams, her mellow song reaching out with invisible hands to clear the sky each night. The light of the moons always shone brightly onto the glossy, purple shells.

But tonight, smoke choked out the moons as the haath raged toward the mouth of the cave. Ne'ana dived through the thick, yellow clouds and swooped into her home, narrowly avoiding a rock the size of a mala that had careened down the hill and smashed into a stalactite. Her laano was intact but softly steaming. Her two eggs were buzzing, their shells chattering against one another in frantic tattoo. After a full enka in the laano, the eggs were now mere hours away from hatching.

Ne'ana retracted her fangs and used her green, forked tongue to roll the eggs into her mouth. She gripped the innermost layer of her nest and twisted it artfully. The dense and spongey tapestry of kelp, reeds, and a waxy sebum from Ne’ana’s scales made a curious bubbling sound as it slipped from the boughs that surrounded it. She crouched, pushed into the cave with her powerful hind legs and, with one mighty push of her wings, sprang powerfully into the air. She beat her wings to her heartbeat, her young in her mouth and their nest in her claws. She felt where to go: to the coast, to the old sea tunnels where The People used to bury their dead. There were caves, mineral springs, plenty of soft-fruits, streams full of assa.

Ten beats of her wings and the haath was there. Ne'ana did not watch as the haath roared over her home: she needed to stay calm. Ne'ana knew that Bia only accepts invitations of surrender; that the very souls of her young would hover just outside the eggshells as they hatched, only to be breathed into the nostrils of a sassan body – one truly at peace. She must moderate her own vibration, move the laano to safety, and rebuild swiftly but sweetly…

Ne’ana flew for three hours until she reached the tunnels. The air was clear here: without the smoke and ash from Haath’Loma, the sky was lavender, the gentle clouds a lovely aquamarine. It was just past midday, she reasoned. She dipped in a break in the canopy, humming her way between ferns and boulders. She let the tip of her tail trail in the water, the assa rising to the surface in curiosity.

The People and hema had a long-standing treaty: The People would bring ayoon’i’assa – woven cages that trapped fish – to the rivers and ponds so the hema would always have a food source, even in their nesting season. In return, the hema hummed. Their velvety tunes brought peace to the Maima, who were known to hold grudges against The People. The twice-daily music of a hema guaranteed a rich and bountiful harvest. All for the simple price of a belly-full of fish.

Ne’ana made her way into a low and deep cave, narrow at the mouth but which opened up grandly past a few rows of stalactites. The air was cool and damp, fresh-feeling against the soot that still clung to Ne’ana’s scales. The gentle drip-drop of water from the stalactites on the puddled ground chirped like a kiko. There were reeds and babu along the back wall of the cavern, and she carried her nest to the foliage. Gently she lowered the laano in the babu and used her tail to sweep rocks from the ground to hold it in place. She opened her mouth and let the eggs roll down her tongue and into their resting place. Thankfully, had stopped buzzing.

This was home, she admitted. Ne’ana had operated purely on instinct and Bai all day and now felt a flood of exhaustion, confusion, and overdue fear. She folded her wings and sat, wearily lifting her head to hum for relief. She felt a burning in her Inner Eye, like an ember of anger that began to smolder bitterly against her eyelids. Two faint wisps of smokey anger escaped from her nostrils as she thought, The People are at fault – of course! She indulged in an uncharacteristic sense of blame and felt the ominous bass of a roar, disappointed and final, as it begin to rumble in her gut. But her eggs started to chatter once more, rattling against one another – and she quickly mastered her bitter thoughts. She had one noble responsibility: to communicate sassan. Set the stage for their success, as guardians and eternal representatives of Bai.

Ne'ana felt conflicted. Her grief and her frustration were palpable and obvious. And while she trusted the timing of the Maima, she couldn’t help but wonder: why now? Why would Haath’Loma destroy her home today? Why would she be forced under waves of fear, when her children needed her to be the very epitome of buoyant courage? Her feelings were divine; her feelings were correct. But her very frequency was threatening her only legacy. Is this the end of conscious Hema? she wondered.

The world was full of hema void of Bai: veritable monsters who roared and ransacked, helped themselves to herds of gora, blasted fire from their nostrils, and went out of their way to terrorise The People. Ne'ana dreamed of a different life for her family: one of peace and of presence. Rehabilitating the image of the hema was only half the work: living with Bai was so much more than saving face and receiving fish.

Desperate for a distraction, some semblance of solution, Ne'ana set out to look for wanna. She could place them around her eggs: their energy couldn’t help but be pure, calm, and sweet. She could steady herself in the meantime. She set off into the jungle to find support. The land was gorgeous and lush. Thick green vines roped around the boughs of the wanna trees, heavy with fuchsia blossoms. Sunshine splashed through the palm fronds and danced on the surface of the lagoons. Assa twirled in the gentle current and ona skimmed the surface of the water, peering into the crystal depths, looking for seeds. Ne'ana found the soft-fruits: juicy orange drops full of tangy yellow seeds that sparkled when crushed. She gathered them in her mouth and slid back to the laano. She set them gingerly around the eggs, feeling a purr of relief ripple through her body. A song began to rise in her heart for the third time that day. She turned around to sing to the waters, and froze:

An aha, one of The People, was standing in the shallows, no more than four paces from her! How had he approached so silently? And -- could he see Ne'ana?

This aha could not have been more than two enka old: his glossy black hair was shoulder-length and framed a large head that he seemed to struggle to balance his body beneath. He held a mala against his belly, looking up into the sky at nothing in particular. Up at the birds, down the vines to the steadfast marching of the ippa. Across to the moss-covered rocks that framed the mouth of the cave; and then, with a slow blink, directly into Ne'ana’s eyes.

Ne’ana stared back. She had only been Seen by three People before: all were Omu, linked to the Maima through Bai. Few People could even see hema these days: they may claim to believe in hema, to trust in the Maima, to heed the wisdom of the Omu. But they saw what they wanted to see, felt what they wanted to feel. They denied magic, more and more as each enka passed, preferring convenience and wealth over faith and Flow.

But there was no doubt about it: the aha could See Ne’ana. He must be the son of an Omu. But why was he here? Where was his family…?

The aha wordlessly walked into the cave, not breaking contact with Ne’ana. He was young and unsteady on his little feet, but carried himself ageless presence. He placed his mala on the ground and pointed to it. Ne’ana felt cautious but open toward this silent creature. She lowered her spines and walked toward the mala. It was dented but intact. She pierced it with her talons and the aha toddled right up to her. He bent dramatically at the waist, took the mala in his hands, and hoisted it back up to his belly. But he did not drink: he walked toward the laano and suddenly lifted the mala above his head.

Ne’ana’s fierce maternal instincts took over: she snarled and whipped around, surrounding her nest and opening her mouth wide. Her tail raised and her gills and scales stood on end, catching the golden light of the late afternoon sun. She let out a low, deep growl – and suddenly heard her eggs shudder and then split. Ne’ana heard a rush of Bai. In an instant, the aha poured the water of the mala over the eggs and Ne’ana felt her bravada dissolve into a sense of despair.

Great tears welled in her amber eyes: she felt as though she had been set up to fail. Doomed from the start. She turned her head away from the sight of the aha, resigning in defeat: may as well let this small Person anoint them. What further harm could be done? In her anger, she had failed the test. Her young would be senseless, void of Bai, after all. Too much, too late. Too little, too soon... Ne’ana embodied her regret and her grief, laying her head on the cool, damp ground of the cave.

The aha had waded into the shallows. The water around his ankles began to spit: green sparks rippled out from his skin and bounced across the surface of the pond. Ne’ana noticed two curious things through the burning blur of her unshed tears: the mala had formed some sort of bubble around the eggs; and the eyes of the aha were glowing white as snow. He raised his hands, and the eggs in their pearly orb floated up out of the laano, above his head. He walked from the cave, hands still raised, and the eggs in their forcefield of mala followed. The shells shattered completely, pulverised like the walls of the lam’Omu, and burst the bubble of mala. The droplets spread but did not fall, rather forming an iridescent halo around the two newborn hema. There they were: suspended in the air, motionless and coiled into tight figure-eights. Ne’ana’s young. And there, beyond the halo of mala, was Bai. A soft pink vapor, the very force of Life, twisting and curling like smoke from a censer.

The aha bent his thumbs into his palms and opened his fingers, rising to the tips of his toes. He levitated up out of the water, his obsidian hair streaming out in all directions. The two hema twisted out of their infinite loops and began spiralling in slow concentric circles above his palms. One hovered over his left hand, one over his right. The aha let out an oddly muffled cry – a clumsy wad of sound that seemed to gag out of his mouth. The droplets of mala rushed into the pond. The surface boiled and small waves rolled outward toward the shore. Bai coiled into a double-helix, spinning faster and faster between the two hema. Utter silence, and then a crack of lightning. Bai snaked into the nostrils of the little hema. Their eyes glowed white and their wings whipped open. Their mouths opened and they hummed together as they slowly drifted down toward the water, stretching their limbs and hardening their scales, one by one.

The aha was still floating a few inches above the water but his eyes were no longer glowing. Ne’ana and the aha looked into one another’s eyes. The aha smiled, showing a mouth full of gapped teeth -- and then began to make crying nosies. Suddenly Ne’ana heard People: "He’s here!" someone called out.

As two People came into view, Ne’ana and her young instinctively shrank back, camouflaged against the black rock walls of the cave. The aha began to gesture to The People, a man and a woman, with his hands: spreading his fingers wide, he brought his palms together twice, clapped a hand over his mouth and pulled two fingers down toward his waist. “You had to do something?” interpreted the man.

The woman spoke slowly as her hands danced and shaped words: “What drew you here, Sassan?”

Sassan bent his elbows and crossed his wrists, closing his fingers into his palms three times.

“He says there are three hema!”

“Three! Ne’ana must have two aha of her own now, yia?”

“Yia! What a day. The Maima bless those aha, I feel it.”

“Sassan, you always bring sassan. Well done.”

As the three People walked away from the water, slowly talking and signing on their way back to their new home, Ne’ana heard the man mention something about bringing an ayoon’i’assa to the stream before dark.

The sun was setting.

And the three hema hummed…

Glossary:

Aha: child

Assa: fish

Ayoon: basket

Babu: floating freshwater plant

Bai: Spirit

Coa: boar

Enka: year

Gora: goat

Haath: lava

Hema: dragon

Ippa: ant

Kiko: tree frog

Lam: home

Laano: nest

Loma: mountain

Maima: Gods

Mala: coconut

Ona: hummingbirds

Omu: seer

Runa: a red gemstone

Sassan: Peace

Shisa: rattle

Wanna: soft-fruit, like papaya

Monu: North

Enan: East

Wano: South

Esha: West