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Varlian v3.jpg

by Jey Gar

"Let's climb for a closer look," said Umria, pointing at the decrepit treehouse wedged high in the night oak.
     Her young son's face dropped. "Uh, it's too high," he replied, rubbing his chin.
     She was not surprised. San refused to enter any building higher than two storeys, but here was an opportunity to command his fear.
     "Let's just climb to that first branch and check." Umria approached the massive tree, which stood majestically by the banks of the ink river, the iridescent blue liquid that encircled the village like a moat. She hoisted herself onto a wide branch and waited for San. He drew a sharp breath and climbed, using the fat knots in the trunk as steps. He clambered onto the branch next to his mother and beamed.
     "You're controlling your breathing well," she said and climbed higher and sat on a branch. San joined her and cautiously sat beside her.
     He smiled proudly as he surveyed the higher branches. It was an unusual location for a treehouse, on the outskirts of Mavipra, and so near the ink river. Rich green foliage concealed much of its worn timbers and the square void that stood in place of a door.
     "That was kind of easy," said San, placing his hand on his mother's shoulder and stood. He reached for the next branch.
     "Wait for mummy," she got to her feet. So much for his fear of heights. Admittedly, he hadn’t looked below at the ground, which now lay several meters away. He had over corrected for the fear, and she must remind him to use a stepwise technique next time. They climbed a few more branches and Umria spotted a shadowy movement inside the treehouse.
     "Stop San," she cried. A terrible roar bellowed from the treehouse. San lost his footing and plummeted. Umria threw out her hand and grabbed his shirt, only to lose her grip as he ploughed through the tree and tumbled onto the soft grass. 
     She reached the ground beside him in a flash. "Where does it hurt?" She scanned his body. He pointed to the scratches on his forearm and his left knee. She brushed away the dirt and grass from his scratches. He whimpered when she touched the cut on his forearm. She swept aside the tears from his cheeks and dabbed them on the cut on his arm. 
     She sat and unfolded the pleats of her tunic.
     "What was that noise?" said San, crawling into his mother's lap, "a monster?"
     "There are no real monsters here sweetie, only pretend ones." The treehouse reflected in the ink river, enough to show the floorboards shift, as though someone heavy moved inside. Whoever it was, they wanted to be left alone. Umria nearly knew everyone in the village, so this was someone she was yet to meet.
     Umria rested her palm on San's chest, feeling his heart still thundering away. She reached for the young sea plum tree in front of her and plucked several mature leaves. She crushed and squeezed the green juice onto his cuts. She dabbed the tip of San's nose with the juice so the minty fragrance could work its magic and calm his nerves.
     "It's all okay," she softened her voice and brushed his cheek. They stared at the sky-blue flowers on the sea plum tree as it swayed in the breeze, adding to the soothing babble of the ink river in the background. 
     After a few minutes Umria patted San's shoulder and said, "Ready for another climb?"
     San sat up. "Ur…that scary thing is still in there. The scary man."
     "True, but this scary man sounded a little scared himself." She brushed his hair, "here's someone new to meet, perhaps a stranger to be turned into a friend."
     "Maybe…we should leave him alone," said San, "I'm a little tired."
     "Okay. Let's keep an eye on that," she said, tapping his calf, prompting him to stand, "it's our chance to practice gracefully nudging our limits."
     San looked back at the tree. "Is this like what your grandpa said?" he added in a monotone voice, "know your limits to know yourself."
     "Tch. You remembered that." She scuffed his hair. She was being one of those mums, the ones who cited wisdom from old dead relatives. "Grandpa would say, 'to really know someone, meet them at their limits; when they're at ease, tired, excited or stressed.' "
     San looked at her blankly and she tickled him, triggering a burst of laughter. "You're right," said Umria, "let's leave the pretend monster be and make it our mission to climb halfway."
     The reflection in the ink river captured a shiny figure peering out of the treehouse, but it ducked back inside when Umria rose to her feet.
     "Good afternoon," she said looking up.
     No response.
     She and San exchanged a look.
     "Hello," she tried again, "what's so valuable and vulnerable to scare a child?"
     Still no answer.
     Umria led San to the base of the large tree. She climbed onto the first branch and looked below. "Where's your fear?" she asked her son.
     "Eight," said San and climbed. 
     "Where's your fear?" Umria climbed higher.
     "Seven." He deepened and slowed his breaths as he focused on the next branch to grasp.
     "Where's your fear?"
     "Six."
     "Where's your fear?"
     "Five."
     "Where's your fear?"
     "Three."
     "Where's your fear?"
     "Dead."
     "Where's the truth?"
     "All around me," said San and giggled.
     "All around you everywhere, both inside and out," said a man from inside the treehouse.
     Umria and San stopped climbing and looked up at the square void in the treehouse.
     A vine ladder shot out and unfurled from the void. It bounced off the branches and dangled beside Umria. The man sounded elderly and Bowren, which would mean he was some thousand kilometres from home.
     She scanned the ladder for signs of wear and tear before tugging it several times to ensure that it was secure. She looked below at San and gestured for him to remain on the branch.
     Umria took the first rung on the ladder as she eyed the nearest branch to grab, should the ladder collapse.
     "Where's your fear?" asked the man.
     "Dead," said Umria and chuckled. She climbed another rung.
   "Where's your fear?"
     "Dead," she kept climbing.
     "Where's your fear?"
     "Dead."
     His voice sounded low and stern, "Where's you fear?"
     "Three." San and the ground seemed so far away.
     "Where's your fear?"
     "Five."
     "Where's your fear?"
     "Dead." She threw up her hand, gripped the edge of the treehouse and hoisted herself inside. The shimmering figure staggered away from the entrance as she stood. He was covered head to toe in jagged mirror pieces, stuck all over his black robe. Even his eyes lay hidden behind the peculiar outfit.
     "You kept climbing despite your fear," he said.
     Umria nodded. As far as she was concerned, a fear below five indicated an opportunity, something valuable worth pursuing.
     The empty treehouse had a closed door opposite the entrance and two wooden windows on either side, which were also shut. It appeared the man owned nothing, except the vine ladder, which was tightly wrapped around a floorboard.
     "How do you know that I'm not dangerous?" he said, "my roar is enough to scare a warrior."
     "We're not warriors," said Umria glancing outside. San stood on the branch with his eyes firmly on her. "Besides, was there a tinge of loneliness in that roar? It seemed like a cry." 
     "Tch, young lady." The man's shoulders dropped, and he turned away from her towards the back door. He lowered his voice and said, "Each time you conquer a fear, you defeat a lie," he turned to face her, "your mastery of emotion makes the truth come to you easily."
     Every part of him was covered in black cloth or a jagged mirror piece. In fact, it looked like there was no black robe at all, but mirror pieces hovering in the shape of a man.
     Vibrations ran along the vine ladder and Umria peeked outside. San was climbing, methodically gripping each rung while keeping his focus firmly on his mother. Umria knelt and lowered her right arm for San to grasp.
     "What are you doing on the village outskirts, away from all?" said the man, "is your son neither valuable nor vulnerable, that you forsake his safety?"
     Umria lifted San into the treehouse. "He is valuable and safe with me."
     "I made it," said San shuffling closer to his mother.
     "I am Varlian," said the man, bowing to San, "I'm sorry I scared you out of the tree."
     San's eyes darted from corner to corner as Umria introduced herself and San. Varlian deepened his voice and repeated her name, drawing out the syllables. His recital of her name sounded more dramatic in the gust of wind swirling through the treehouse, making the timbers creek.
     "Perhaps opening a window will allow the wind to flow through," said Umria.
     "No," said Varlian, "I dislike people peering inside and interfering with my work." He sighed. His tone become consolatory as he introduced himself again, this time as Varlian Daha. He said he was an artist, who had abandoned the bustling and technologically advanced nation of Bowren Tiers to practice his art in simpler surroundings. It was unclear as to the art he practiced, because not a single tool was in sight. Perhaps his tools were hidden beneath that robe. San meanwhile studied the jagged mirror pieces, the way each piece captured his reflection separately.
     "I am in every broken piece," he said, "I'm broken apart."
     Varlian laughed. "Good observation young man. It's like the way many of us are, broken selves striving to become one and whole."
     That fascinating and somewhat appropriate description flew straight over San's head; he turned to the beautiful vista afforded by the height of the treehouse. The doctor's house was just visible, and the village centre lay partly hidden behind the layers of trees. Smoke and dust from a truck convoy drew a puffy grey band leading out of the village. The circus caravan was granted only one night's stay, the village council deemed it cruel and dangerous to permit exotic animals in Mavipra. The sun tracked towards the horizon, splattering orange hues through the clouds floating over the ocean.
     Umria turned to Varlian. "So, what is your art?"
     "I am a poet, "he said, "but my medium is not pen or paper, but ink. Yes, my art calls not for any tools; it forces me to evolve, not my tools."
     Varlian sounded like a Mavipran philosopher. His voice grew with excitement as he continued, "the greatest inventions are those that evolve the self, not outsource it to some fleeting technology that actually stops us evolving. Not only have we stopped evolving but we’re regressing," his voice became sonorous, "language, mathematics, music, art, civilisation, schools, yoga, meditation these are true inventions, that's why they stay with us still. Even inventions like mastering fire, clothing, shelter, agriculture, medicine and transport, we only continue to refine these, but to come up with the original concept, that is what," he threw up his hands and pleaded while his voice filled with operatic vigour, "just imagine Umria, the ancestors who invented language, perhaps the greatest invention of all, just imagine, they pushed themselves to leverage and develop the basic mental and physiological functions to represent the world with sounds, just imagine –" he dropped his arms and stood still, "curse that ancestor who invented inventions." Varlian laughed.
     "Yes, the mind and body are capable of much," said Umria, "good material for moulding into great inventions," 
     "We still can't see in the dark without lanterns," said San, pointing at the sunset.
   Varlian chuckled as Umria brushed San's hair. It was time to go. She glanced at the dying light outside and said, "do you want the window opened?"
     Varlian's voice turned melancholic as he replied, "No, there's nothing for me to see outside. Thank you for asking."
     "Our pleasure, it was lovely meeting you," said Umria as she and San bowed their heads, "hope to see you again." She descended the vine ladder ahead of San as Varlian leaned out from the entrance. He raised his clenched fist and said her name in a deep voice, drawing out the end syllable, "Umriaaaaah."
     She smiled and San frowned. They descended the ladder as Varlian continued, "Umria is an interesting sounding name. It lends itself well to poetry."
     Umria and San were half-way down when Varlian asked softly,
     "There was more I was to ask you, something important," his voice quietened further, "will you return again, alone?"
     Umria glanced at San and said, "Without San? But that won't be the same me."
     
                                                                                                   ***
     
"We met a strange old man covered in a broken mirror," San told his aunt Meena, whose eyes flared as she rocked back in her seat. Umria elbowed San and recounted the meeting with Varlian in the most sedate manner possible. It had not helped.
     "He sounds ominous," her sister said, "best you avoid any strange visitors," Meena's voice hushed with tension, "there was a robbery, someone vandalised a farmyard and stole the gourds. The Constable suspects the circus caravan that had stopped by the village earlier."
   Meena had a point. Varlian had revealed little despite his vehement views on evolving the self. And to travel a thousand kilometres to find a quiet village seemed peculiar. The fact that he had no possessions could mean he was possibly passing through Mavipra. Still, he seemed lonely and lost.
   That evening Umria recollected the way Varlian had characterised language as an invention. She imagined early ancestors sitting in the jungle, developing language. They had no inner speech at that time either, limiting their thinking and imagination to imagery and simple sounds. Language truly was a great invention.
   "That cut on San's arm is deep," said Meena marching in, "goodness knows that kid doesn’t need more injuries."
   "It seems to be healing," said Umria.
   "I don’t fancy vegetable juice as medicine, you may as well smear leftovers from dinner."
   "That's a great idea," said Umria calmly sitting up, "it'll not only heal the wounds, but there'll be a snack at the ready."
   "Tch." Meena laughed. "Please pop by the doctor's tomorrow to get proper ointment. We need more bandages anyway."

                                                                                                   ***

The following afternoon Umria rushed to the doctor's dispensary. Meena had heard that an intruder had entered the doctor's house and attacked his dog, Remedy.
   She must ask Varlian about the crime, his treehouse was a five-minute stroll from the doctor's house.
     Remedy was a big black dog, but he lay curled up like a wounded puppy, well bandaged up. The doctor had heard the dog bark early in the morning and then abruptly stop. He arrived in the kitchen, located at the back of his house, to find Remedy lying limp by the pantry.
   Umria patted Remedy as she inspected his injuries. He had been clawed at the shoulder, and wiry white hairs lay wedged in his collar. 
     Umria bought wound ointment and bandages before asking the doctor to take her to the site of the attack. The pantry's thick wooden doors had a large, fist sized hole punched through. The position of the hole suggested the attacker was strong and well above average in height. Umria peeked through the hole, instantly picking up a faint, musky odour. 
   "Nothing was stolen," said the doctor as they returned outside, "whoever broke in was scared off by Remedy. I can't think of anyone in the village who would want to steal my food. It must be someone from that circus caravan. They were probably angry that they were asked to leave."
   "Hmm…" said Umria watching the Constable and his volunteer deputy, Ko, stroll up the drive-way, "the circus left yesterday evening," she told the doctor, "so it could be someone else."
   "Hello again doctor," said the Constable approaching the front steps, "we may have found the criminal." He turned to Umria and dipped his head, "Meena said you'd be here. We bumped into her earlier and she said you and San were confronted by a stranger?"
   The Constable's tall, lean figure contrasted Ko's shorter, chubbier frame. The Constable wore his black uniform and Ko had managed to find something similar, a black shirt with several pockets and three-quarter length farming trousers held up by white suspenders. Ko was much younger than the Constable who was only a week out from retiring, with his replacement yet to be nominated. Not that he had a long policing career, just three years since the village council volunteered him out of his farm to replace his predecessor.
   Umria detailed her encounter with Varlian as objectively as she could.
   "Best you take us there right away then," said the Constable, "the savagery of the attacks point to someone dangerous." Ko nodded profusely.
   She must ensure Varlian received fair treatment, even if he had been involved. And it was unclear as to how Varlian himself would react when she arrived at the treehouse with the police in tow.
     "You mentioned the stranger wanted to see you again," said the Constable as they headed towards the night oak.
     "Yes, he said he wanted to ask me something important."
   "That was definitely to lure you in" said the Constable, "old man or not, solitary, disguised and lurking in the village outskirts makes him the prime suspect."
   "Possibly, but there's no evidence."
   In amongst the Constable's questioning, he told her that it was irresponsible to take San into the treehouse, let alone allow him to climb a big tree. Umria reasoned that the calculated risks helped tackle San's fear of heights, but the Constable remained focused on building his case against Varlian, including that the old man had the motive for stealing food. Ko was more concerned about the Constable missing his farewell party later that evening and hurried everyone along.
     They reached the base of the night oak and Ko called out, "Good evening stranger, we're the police." The Constable glanced at Ko who smiled uncomfortably and said, "If he's innocent he'll come out calmly."
   The Constable crossed his arms at his chest as everyone surveyed the treehouse.
     "Best you climb for a closer look," he told Ko.
     Umria offered to follow Ko, but the Constable was not having any of that. 
     "He might suddenly attack," said Ko gravely, "besides it's a big tree Umria, best I go."
   Ko huffed and puffed and reached three quarters of the way up to the treehouse. He gripped a branch, stood on tiptoe and peered into the square void. He looked below at the Constable and shook his head.
   "Can you see all the way in?" said the Constable. 
   Ko scrunched his face and wiped his palm on his shirt. He gingerly climbed a few more branches. He hugged the trunk and raised his head to peek into the treehouse again. He smiled. "No one here Constable. Maybe he knew we were coming and scrammed."
   Ko pressed his fist on his hip and scanned the surroundings, like a mountaineer who had conquered the highest peak in the world.
     "Careful Ko," the Constable warned, "don't get too cocky."
     "Okay boss," said Ko making his way down, "but I am sure footed when it comes to these things."
     Umria wandered towards the small sea plum tree by the ink river. Several flowers had disappeared. It could have been the wind, but there were no fallen flowers or leaves on the grass. Perhaps a passer-by plucked some for a bouquet, but really, passers-by would be rare all the way out here. She turned just as Ko lost his footing. He yelped as he tumbled through the tree and came to a stop metres from the ground, hanging by the strap of his suspenders.
     Umria hurried back while the Constable threw back his head and laughed. His laughter grew when the suspender snapped, and Ko fell flat on his face. Ko promptly stood, brushed the grass from his face and said, "that was a controlled fall. I was testing a rapid descent manoeuvre." 
     "The only one in control was the tree," said the Constable. He glanced at Umria, lowered his voice and told Ko, "your trousers are about to do a rapid descent manoeuvre if you don’t fix those suspenders."
     "Sorry," Ko blushed as he tucked the torn suspenders into his pocket and held up his trousers.
     The constable frowned and looked up at the tree. "Hopefully the stranger has left Mavipra for good," he said, "and there'll be no more break-ins."
     Umria stood by the night oak, staring at the treehouse as the Constable and Ko turned for the doctor's house.
     "You better go home too, Umria," said the Constable, "it'll be dark soon."
     Umria nodded and pointed to the sea plum tree. "Just going to take a look at those flowers." She slid the ointment and bandages into her pocket and approached the young tree. Tiny cuts marked the branches near the missing flowers. Those could be from the mirror pieces on Varlian's outfit. Why would he collect flowers?
     A brilliant orange sunset took form in the horizon and Umria turned for home.
     The vine ladder shot out of the entrance and unfurled to dangle from the tree.
     She brushed down her tunic and climbed, the sunset warming her back and neck. She called to Varlian as she reached the ladder, but there was no response.
     She climbed in through the square entrance and stood. The treehouse remained dark and bare, but for a silhouette standing before the back door.
     "You still don't think I am dangerous?" said Varlian, emerging from the darkness, his cloak was completely black. "The police are looking for me, after all." The hundreds of mirror pieces swivelled about their axes, turning from glass to mirror, and reflected whatever little of the sunset that spilled into the treehouse. Bowrens were renowned for their unique fashion and technology, and Varlian's outfit combined both.
     "Yes, there was a break-in at a house nearby and a dog injured," said Umria, "but it appears the culprit is a marsh ape." The white wiry hair on Remedy's collar, the claw marks, the musky odour were clues that it was possibly a marsh ape. And the height of the hole in the pantry pointed to a big male.
     Varlian laughed. "See, the truth of this world comes to you easily. The ape escaped from a passing caravan. I can see much from this treehouse, even though the world cannot see much of me."
     "Well, have you seen an ape around here?"
     "Everywhere." He chuckled. "Most people seldom strive to be more than their ape self, refusing to evolve, ur …well, I don’t mean Maviprans –"
     "No that's okay, but I'd rather be open and honest with the Constable, so it would help if you stated your actual mission here."
     Varlian nodded and cleared his throat. "I'm on a mission to defend my god," he said, "against mysterious enemies that are all around us everywhere, inside and out."
"You said that about truth, what does that mean?"
     "Emotions, bad ones in particular, that's what I am hunting. They skew the truth," he folded his arms at his stomach, making the mirror pieces clink, "this is why I wished to speak to you again. May I ask you something…about your mothering?"
     Umria glanced at the sunset and nodded.
     Varlian wandered away from her. "I'm impressed by the way you deliver life lessons through deliberate use of emotions, the engine of existence," he turned to her, "when San fell from the tree, how did you train him to quickly and effortlessly transition from the fright and sadness to motivation, to climb again?"
     That was a topic close to her heart, but explaining it had proved to be a struggle. "There are various techniques," said Umria, "and its hit and miss with San, but he did well that time."
     She explained how certain emotions primed other emotions. She detailed how fear would prime anger, because when afraid and fleeing from danger there was a possibility of becoming cornered, in which case switching to anger to retaliate would be a better option. Similarly, anger primed fear in the situation when there was a need to flee from a fight. "We can leverage these primal mechanisms and deliberately conjure up fear to more readily reduce anger or do the reverse. Similarly, it was easier to turn San's tears of distress into tears of laughter by tickling him."
     Varlian listened intently, often nodding and muttering, "Hmm." Umria continued, briefly describing how San's sadness, made him receptive to her maternal care, which she then leveraged into the excitement of making a new friend in Varlian.
     "Hmm. Seems plausible," he said, "you yourself transitioned from tenderly comforting him to inspiring and spurring him to climb again. Was that deliberate?"
     "It was at one time, but now it's natural. The feelings are real."
     Varlian laughed. "Of course, you don’t need to prove the authenticity nor intensity of your maternal love. But tell me this, you only comforted him, because he had nudged his limits?"
     Umria smiled. "Well yes, because he remained graceful at his limits, but it's still maternal love at work. Is it not how we evolve the self? Perhaps another primitive mechanism by which nature perfects us. When you operate at your limits, you're forced to call on every aspect of yourself, no matter how tiny, and this tiniest difference gives you the edge in survival."
     "It could be why many animals are so perfectly adapted to their surroundings," said Varlian, "and it might also explain why nature has designed contentment to be so fleeting for many." He sighed.
     Umria scanned the empty treehouse. "Do you eat alone?" she said.
     "I know what you're thinking, but solitude isn’t all bad," he said, scanning the empty treehouse, "when the world overwhelms you, withdrawing from it, becoming an individual, makes contentment easier."
     "But the world does not cease to be when you withdraw from it. Isn't it the mind's inability to handle the vast and complex world that forces us to become individuals?"
     "Ah yes, the limited mind restricts the awareness from grasping the whole." The mirror pieces on his cloak swivelled, becoming transparent and he merged into the darkness. "That's why it's important to return to your mission, even after a defeat, hopefully more capable than before and merge back with the world."
     "Yes, knowing when to be just one or the many is a valuable skill, especially with loved ones."
     The glass pieces swivelled as they once again turned to mirrors. San would have loved to have seen that.
     Dusk had turned the skies a dull yellow and a full moon hovered near the horizon. The lanterns from the houses flickered like a starry sky. The marsh ape could be lurking anywhere in there, still hungry. Umria stepped closer to the entrance and Varlian continued,
     "Social eating is probably a remnant from our days as apes, where we ate together to cement bonds, hierarchies and to know what and what not to eat. But I'm striving to evolve and so I'm happy to eat little and eat alone."
     Umria smiled and grasped the side of the treehouse, readying to descend the vine ladder. "So, you eat flowers?"
     "Clever girl. I've evolved to the extent my body can nourish itself with nature's beauty," his voice turned theatrical once again, "one must strive to use the mind and body as the raw materials for all inventions. As you Maviprans say, 'Evolve yourself, not your tools.' "
     Umria looked below into the darkness. The sea plum was just visible in the moonlight. She quipped, "Would you like the window opened?"
     "No, moonlight is false light, a pretend sun."
     Umria giggled and stepped onto the first rung of the vine ladder. "What's the purpose of that door behind you?"
     "Why? That's the door to my studio," said Varlian, stepping closer to the entrance, "art is a great tool for exploring and manipulating emotions."
     Umria descended another rung of the barely visible ladder.
     "Please be careful on your way home," he said, "there's a big, hungry ape on the loose."
     "Okay, you be careful too." Umria descended another two rungs.
     "And please bring along San next time…your son. He brings cheer." Varlian clenched his fist then unfurled his fingers as he threw his arm out in an arc while he spoke in a deep, theatrical voice, "Umriaah." He chuckled and his voice returned to sounding wise, "it is not just knowing the name, but the way you say it, the emotion. Only then can you experience its true meaning."
     She smiled and said, "And how exactly do you write your poems?"
     "I sing," he leaned out of the treehouse and turned his head towards the ink river flowing past the night oak, "although my medium of choice is not air, but ink."
     How fascinating. So, he was a poet who sang in the ink? Perhaps sound travelled better through ink, than water, but good luck getting an audience to sit submerged in the ink. Iridescent liquid was undrinkable and tasted like vinegar.
     Umria bid farewell and hurried back to the doctor's house, her head full of thoughts. Varlian had referred to god, which was unusual considering Bowrens were not religious or spiritual in anyway. Perhaps that was another reason as to why he left Bowren Tiers. She weaved through the two-metre-high jasmine hedges, which blocked the moonlight. She was bound to receive a lecture from Meena for being late. Umria brushed her fingers along the hedge to guide her, and a musky odour wafted through the jasmine fragrance.
   She looked back at the night oak. The canopy shook and birds scattered in the moonlight.
   She heard a howl.
   Umria sprinted back. She climbed the night oak in a flash to reach the vine ladder. That musky odour wafted around her as she climbed closer to the entrance.
   "Are you okay Mr.Varlian," she called out, but her words drowned in the thumping noises and growls bellowing from the treehouse. 
     Umria hoisted herself inside to be confronted by the silhouette of a large marsh ape – an alpha male. Varlian lay slumped on the floor, speaking feebly, "I'm through fighting alone, take it all –"
     Umria pushed open the window and flooded the treehouse with moonlight.
     She locked eyes with the giant ape, its silver coat glistened in the light and its partly opened mouth exposed two fierce canines. Its fists hovered at its chest and its gaze turned to its own dazzling reflections in Varlian's cloak.
     "Your mission Mr.Varlian," said Umria, "not yourself."
     Varlian roared as he leapt to his feet. The ape staggered backwards and crashed through the closed door. It clung to a branch and swung back up. It leapt from branch to branch, away from the treehouse and towards the canopy's edge. It jumped and landed on a thorny shrub in the ink river. The giant animal growled and hurriedly swam across the ink before bounding across the plains leading away from the village.
     "Are you alright?" asked Umria. A few mirror pieces were dinted, but other than that, he looked as before.
   "Yes, thanks to you," he grasped the doorknob, continuing to track the marsh ape bounding across fields, "you remained graceful despite the dangerous situation; in charge of your emotions, not the other way around." He turned to her. "How was my roar that time? Was there a tinge of loneliness?"
   Umria shook her head.
   Varlian returned to tracking the ape in the distance, "you reminded me that I had not pushed myself anywhere near my limits, so I didn’t deserve nor receive God's comfort. My mission is valuable Umria, but I had made it vulnerable with my indulgent self-pity. I had to return and merge with the big, bad world, back to my mission, and the loneliness vanished."
   "Yes, you must tell me more about this mission and your god later, it sounds fascinating."
     He nodded and said softly, "to lose faith in my God, is to lose faith in my mission, is to lose faith in myself."
   Varlian stepped through the doorway and onto a sturdy branch. The moon light had turned the grassy plains a silvery hue. He pointed to the ape, strolling into the distant forest, and said, "The ape recognized itself in my cloak and stopped being an ape. If only people would do likewise and see themselves in the ape, the way it had seen itself in me." He looked back at Umria. "And thank you, for not once questioning my appearance, my clothes. You don’t rely on looks to forge your connections."
     "The thought crossed my mind," she said and smiled.
     He raised his left arm and inspected the mirror pieces. "These gaps in my outfit are like the gaps and disjointedness in dreams, which you accept without question until you awaken. So too, there are gaps and disjointedness right around in the waking world. The lies of emotion sneak into these gaps between the truths we cannot see," he looked up at her, "remain graceful as you are Umria. Never let emotions tug your awareness in all directions, don't let them steal the truth."
   Umria nodded. It was time to bid farewell again. Meena may have alerted the Constable and organised a search party. Hopefully, San's helping his aunt remain calm; he was level-headed for a six-year-old.
     Varlian strolled away from the treehouse onto a narrow branch overhanging the ink river. 
     "You asked me about my art," he said and turned to face her. "I am a sculptor, but my medium of choice is not stone or clay, but ink."
     A poet who sings and sculpts?
     He took another step and dropped silently and smoothly into the ink. His cloak splayed out in a perfect circle with the mirror pieces shimmering in the moonlight. Suddenly, the cloak collapsed at the centre and it too vanished beneath the iridescent ink.
     Umria stepped out of the treehouse and grasped the closest branch. She frantically surveyed the ink for Varlian.
   A cloudy white ellipse emerged in the ink and grew spindly petals as it expanded. Then two more ellipses emerged, enclosing a crisscrossing pattern. Steadily, ornate floral patterns appeared and hung in the ink.
     He must sing under the ink, somehow turning it solid. What an extraordinary artform. In amongst the ornate patterns, words gradually appeared:
     
     
     
                                                                                           

You’re the place where one goes to fall
     and you're the place from which one will rise.
     When we nudge our limits, to the edge of death
     you'll breathe through us to renew our breath.
     I had already learned your name,
     but only near expiration
     did I understand its claim.
     You are comfort becoming inspiration
     You are,
     Umria
    


     - The End - 

All rights reserved: Cover art and illustrations: ©Jey Gar

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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