Best Left Lost

So accustomed had I become to the constant, rolling song of the desert, that I almost did not hear the beckoning call of my destination steadily approaching me. I stopped and looked upon the dark mouth of the cave. To my eyes alone, it appeared like the hundreds of others I had seen in my journey, like the thousands I had seen in my lifetime. Though, as I gazed upon it with my soul, an aura of invitation surrounding the cave confirmed to me that this was what I had so long searched for.

I did not travel here alone, for with me was a resilient and comforting band of four others. The sun, the desert, the invisible presence of the patron I served, and the little black book which held within it two years of my work. Unique to this particular venture was the book. It was a strange thing among my people to write in this old way, and admittedly, impractical compared to what we did now. However, I knew that the great artists of my home still placed their infant concepts first upon paper, long before they would one day reach the glass murals of the temple. Something about this appealed to me, and as I began to use and travel with this book, my admiration for it grew. We both had our covers bleached by the sun, and we both endured the wind sweeping grains of sand in places it simply did not belong. This black book was as stalwart a companion as any, and perhaps it's most alluring quality, is that its memory never faded.

In its pages were the translations, clues, sketches, and all the pieces of the puzzle I had assembled to lead me here. A difficult task, but with the help of those wiser than I, and several delves into the bones of the Old World, I had partially revived the ancient story of five men. Men who not only gave their lives, but killed eight others to preserve whatever rested within this cave. What was worth the vast sum of thirteen lives? Worth perhaps murder, and tormented afterlife? A rare tome of knowledge? A grand library? A beautiful sculpture, or yet unseen kind of art? That was the part of the story I could not complete, and I reasoned that whatever it was, perhaps it's value could simply not be put into written word.

The time for reflection had passed, and I marched ahead into whatever awaited me. I had expected a more gradual change of my surroundings as I entered the cave; What I received instead was something akin to the abrupt, instant shift from day to night. The air was staggeringly cold. So cold that I felt as though my entire form was encased in a barrier of invisible lines, separating me quite distinctly from my environment. When out in the desert sun, it always seemed to me that I melded together with all that surrounded me, and we were, quite warmly, one in the same. The once inviting aura outside was replaced with the chilled warning that I did not belong here in more ways than I understood - or so I thought.

Once more, my eyes told me one story, yet my soul relayed to me another. I desperately wished for the tale of my eyes to be true, but I knew it was not. I seemed alone here, for there was no one to see. Though as I ventured deeper, it felt as though I had to part water before me, a weighted presence which I could only feel crowded around me at every step.

My chest decided then to look briefly into the eyes of the deepest abyss it could find, and promptly dive head first, sinking down into the unfathomable. The chill enveloped me like a serpent, and squeezed until its frozen grasp began to force my entire body into a bitter shiver. Ice and terror competed fiercely for the space within me, threatening to paralyze and topple me where I stood.

"Enough..." I conjured, my voice beginning as only a whisper against the silence.

I removed my head-wrap, drew down the cloth which covered my face, and loosened my faded blue robes, allowing them to fall to the floor. My ears uncoiled like a spring above my head as my hand found the hilt of my sword. I closed my eyes, and concentrated only on that which I needed most. The teachings of the temple poured like rivers to the center of my thoughts. There is no need to be afraid. All that opposes me is merely an opportunity to fortify my courage. There can be no strength without adversity.

I stretched my wings outward, and repeatedly brushed them over the rigid edges of my back, carrying a song into the cave which I had sung many times before. Eyes yet closed, I honed in on the sounds around myself, and let the waves of my own melody be my sight, carrying me through the dark. I turned and bent the stalks of my ears, craning them forward. The vibrations of my tune showed the outlines of the cave walls, the cracks and crevices in the sides, the stalactites on the ceiling, until at last the vibrations bounced off the forms of three swiftly approaching figures. One was considerably smaller than the other two. Of all the abilities I received upon accepting the gift nearly ten years ago, what I had just done was perhaps one of the most useful.

I opened my eyes and allowed the glow of their radiant, greenish hue to cut away the darkness just before me. The sticky pitter-patter of what sounded like thousands of feet scurrying along the cave rushed toward me, nearer and nearer until they surely must have been over my head. I held my breath in anticipation, stone still, my hand squeezing the hilt of my sheathed blade until my fingers cracked. Then, just as I expected the creatures to pounce, the noises stopped completely, and we were all left in silence. I narrowed my gaze, and could now see them, just barely, in silhouetted form. Intelligently, they remained just outside the cone of my light, and waited. I swallowed, unsure if intelligence was exactly a trait I was hoping they'd have.

Perhaps there did not have to be a fight. Leaping into physical conflict was the specialty of a different patron, not mine. I kept my blade sheathed, and carefully paced two steps forward. The creatures moved in lockstep with me, refusing to enter the light.

"Very well..." I announced, calmly as my voice would allow.

I closed my eyes once more, and continued a quieter, softer version of the song that rubbed off my wings. I took my hand off my sword, and raised both hands by my head. Through my singing, I watched them, and they watched me. I hoped we had reached some sort of mutual understanding, and walked slowly forward. The smallest of them lingered above me on the ceiling, the other two clung to the cave walls on my left and right. To my dismay, they began to follow.

It was then that the smallest of them broke our arrangement, and launched down toward me, a high pitched squeal forced from its mouth that bounced off the inner walls of my head. Instinctively my eyes opened, and I watched as the creature became awash with green light. To my surprise, dark clots of dusty smoke began to billow away from the creatures purple, furred skin. Its once graceful pounce quickly changed into a sprawling downward flop - and it missed me by inches. Roughly the size of a young child, this had no eyes, a massive mouth dotted with astonishingly white serrated teeth, and the stumps of sickly looking wings upon its back that surely had no purpose.

The little creature shrieked until it had righted itself, and quickly scurried back into the safety of the darkness, leaving a dissipating trail of smoke and the smell of seared flesh. No wonder they lived here; imagine what the sun might do?

What I assumed to be the offspring of the larger two rejoined it's mother, or father, and as a result of it's failed leap, I was given a wider berth in which to walk. I left my eyes open, and walked backwards, away from them, deeper into the cave. For a much more respectful amount of time; they did not follow.

I walked in appreciated silence for a time, but still could not shake the cold, nor the heaviness, that consumed this place. I felt now it was not those creatures who had caused either. I removed the black book from my side, and referenced the sketch I had copied. A rock formation, hopefully concealing that which I searched for. Book in hand, I scanned each cluster of rocks in the cave, until at last I found the match.

I whispered a prayer, and heaved the rocks aside. Even after all these years, I could still yet see where the soil had once been disturbed. I dug out handfuls of dirt, and before me was the weathered, colorless shape of a small satchel. I carefully excavated it into the palm of my hand, cautious of even breathing too harshly, should my breath turn my finding into dust. A severely decayed rope wrapped the satchel at it's top, and I gently pulled at it, only to have it crumble away. I placed my fingers carefully in the bag, and stretched them slowly apart, revealing it's contents.

A stack of green paper, not the brilliant greens that I knew; but sickly ones. On these papers, the faces of men I did not know, small words I did not entirely understand, and numbers at the corners which I did recognize. I had never seen any before in person, but I knew what this was. I took the papers in my hand, cast the bag aside, and spread them apart so that each individual note was visible. Twenty thousand "dollars", they would have called it.

At first, everything was still. My hands, my thoughts, the cave, the world. I knew not whether to shout in anger, or laugh in hysteria. Had two years of my life gone into unearthing something in which most of my people no longer even had the concept of? Something which has perhaps less than no value at all?

No. I was being short-sighted. What I had found was of immense value. Thirteen men had died for this. Not only had the five paid the ultimate price, but they also stole from eight others their most valuable possession - their life. All for green notes with the faces of men they had never met. Such savagery was unknown to us. It had never been so clear to me, that not all that was gone in the Old World was worth mourning over. Some ways of life were better left lost.

The caves biting chill and suffocating weight gave to me a theory, and I hoped that I was right. I drew my sword with my free hand, and sliced into the rough skin of my palm. The magnificent green of our blood poured upon the notes in my other hand, and the notes began to dissolve. It was not long until nothing remained in my hand but a damp sheen. I clutched my hand, and closed my eyes, hoping.

Perhaps it was not my decision to make, but there was no wiser figure here. In this place, I was the sole representative of the will of my patron, and my people. Several hundred years of being bound to your mistake, to me, seemed payment enough. Gradually, the cave began to warm, and the air became light, and free. I could move once more, unhindered, and knew then, save for the three creatures, I was truly alone.