The Horn of Ganu

The prayer hour was announced with the chiming of a clear bell at the pinnacle of a spiraling tower, its polished surface reflecting shards of light onto the city below. The masses slowly made their way out of small buildings made of earth and straw, thronging through the narrow streets to the temple. The temple was the largest building in the city, able to house the entire populace with some room to spare. Everyone held a small candle in one hand, shielding the delicate flame with the other, as they meandered through the quickly darkening city.

Heredia traveled alone. Though she was surrounded by others, she lived by herself and therefore was not accompanied by a family member or living partner like most others. She kept her eyes trained on her flame and watched the small orange tip dance around in the confines of her cupped palm. She wasn’t afraid of running into something or tripping over an uneven stone in the ground. She had walked this path daily like everyone else and could probably find her way to the temple blindfolded.  

The shimmering steps of the temple were soon before her, and she averted her eyes from the flame to behold the wide stair leading into the yawning maw of the foyer. Along the sides of the foyer were murals that depicted the conquest of the gods in the days of dawn and their subsequent dominion over the cosmos. Each god was tasked with creating a world where they could raise an army to fight alongside them in the great war against the Yor who yearn to return the cosmos to a state of perpetual darkness. The god Ganu created this world out of the very dust of its mother star and seeded its soil with a small portion of light to produce living creatures. The seers proclaimed that the time of the great war was approaching, that they could feel a shift in the stars. The seers looked for signs in the cosmos that the Yor had returned. When that time came, the summoning horn would be blown to call Ganu to lead her people to battle.

Heredia walked past the last of the murals, depicting her people fighting and dying beside Ganu in the great war to come, and found herself in the prayer hall. The prayer hall was lit only by the hundreds of small candles of the devotees. At the back of the prayer hall was a large, magnificent statue of Ganu. Her face was austere and grim, the shadows of the dim light accentuating her stern brow, as she stood with an outstretched hand, palm facing upward. Piles of small trinkets lay at her feet. People often left some of their possessions as offerings to demonstrate their fealty.

Heredia knelt on the cool, smooth surface and placed her candle in front of her. The prayer hour was meant to be a time to meditate and commune with Ganu. Heredia typically enjoyed the prayer hour as it gave her time to quietly reflect upon her life in peace. She closed her eyes and began to enter a trance-like state. Her memories almost seemed to whirl around her like falling leaves, and she imagined reaching out her fingers to pluck one of them out of the air. She caught it and turned it around in her hand. It was a forgotten memory, one from when she was barely at the age of maturity. She was walking down a path with Rakshi. Rakshi. A sudden pang of sorrow and regret nearly shocked her from her meditation. She tried to ignore it and find a different memory. She tried to release the memory from her grasp, but her hand didn’t obey. Instead, she immersed herself deeper into it.

They were walking along a mountain path, back to their father’s house on the other side of the pass. Rakshi and Heredia often took this path to sell their father’s produce in the village market. It was treacherous, but it was the quickest way to the village. Their father grew rock fruit which could only be cultivated at high elevations. It was prized among the villagers, and they had accumulated a fair amount of wealth from selling the fruit over the years. However, their father fell ill with air fever when Heredia had barely reached her adolescent years. Air fever was an incurable disease that those who dwelled for too long in high elevations ran the risk of contracting. It also meant that he could no longer travel to lower elevations, as the disease would cause him to suffocate on the higher-density air. Therefore, he depended on the children to sell the fruit at the market. Rakshi was older than Heredia and had committed himself to staying with their father to take over the farm when the time came. Rakshi had encouraged Heredia to leave when she was of age and become a scholar in Gav, one of the five greatest cities in Ganut. The idea of it always seemed so grand to her. Scholars held one of the most prestigious social ranks in Ganut. Their father had no arguments against it, in fact, he was probably happy to rid himself of Heredia. Heredia always felt that her father held some resentment for her. He never treated her the same way he did Rakshi.

“I’d say we made a fine profit today, didn’t we Rakshi? Father will be happy.”

“Perhaps. Though it seems nothing makes him happy anymore.”

Heredia didn’t respond immediately. Though she never really got along with her father, she did feel some sympathy for him. She couldn’t imagine being stuck at the top of a mountain for the rest of her life.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll make him happy today,” she finally said.

“Yeah. Sure.”

They passed over a bend and the path got narrower as they got closer to the top. Their father’s house was situated at the very top of the mountain in a stretch of level land, but the path just below the farm was surrounded by sheer cliffs.

Heredia glanced over her shoulder at Rakshi as she slid one hand along the face of the cliff. The small carts they were towing were barely narrow enough to fit on the path.

“When I go to Gav, you must visit me, Rakshi.”

“I’ll do my best, depending on the demands of the farm.”

“Perhaps when Father dies, you can come live with me.”

Rakshi paled. “You mustn’t say such things, Heredia! Ganu is always listening, and it is bad luck to speak of deaths that have not yet come.”

“All I’m saying is that you don’t need to be trapped on this mountain like Father. I will have enough wealth when I become a scholar to support us both. There is no need for the farm once that happens. You can come live with me.”

Rakshi remained silent for a while, and Heredia was beginning to regret her words. She was about to apologize when Rakshi spoke.

“I know you are thinking in my best interest, Heredia. And I love you for that. But I’ve chosen my fate.” He sighed. “I promise to visit you often though. Besides, coming to see you in Gav might stave off the air fever for a while.”

“You will not get air fever, Rakshi. I’ll make sure of it.”

She continued a little further when something caught her eye. She stooped down to get a closer look and gasped with delight. It was a bright, semi-translucent rock with speckled gold throughout, but deep in its interior was a deep onyx core that spread out like tendrils. It was the most beautiful rock she’d ever beheld.

“Hey Rakshi! Look at this rock!”

    “Be careful, Heredia! Don’t get too close to the cliff.”

Heredia ignored him and held up the rock for him to see. “I’ve never seen one so beautiful. Perhaps I can use this to fight the Yor.”

“I’m not sure a pretty rock will do much against the Yor.”

She playfully threw the rock at him, and he winced in mock pain. Heredia laughed, “Shows what you know.”

Suddenly there was a deep rumbling and then a crack. The rock that had landed next to Rakshi’s foot slid away and tumbled down the cliff edge. Heredia felt a panic rise in her chest as she looked at Rakshi and saw the same fear and shock reflected in his eyes. He lunged forward but it was too late as he lost his balance among the avalanche of tumbling rocks. At the same time, Heredia reached out to him and caught him by the arm as she felt herself yanked toward the crumbling cliff. She flung her free arm out in front of her and felt her hand grip onto a rock sticking out on the side of the cliff. Rakshi was dangling from her other arm; the dead weight was quickly taking a toll on her. She looked down at him with terror.

“Rakshi! I can’t!” she screeched. The searing pain in her shoulder was unbearable. She could feel her grip on the rock slipping.

“It’s ok.” His voice was oddly calm, and it juxtaposed with the look of terror and fear in his eyes.

Heredia shook her head as tears streamed down her face. She tried pulling him upward, but it was useless. She felt his grip slipping in her hand as she felt hers slipping on the rock. She couldn’t save both of them. It was impossible. She knew it and Rakshi knew it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she released the grip on his arm. Her brother’s face as he fell away from her burned into her memory, his eyes forever staring into hers, full of fear, grief, and forgiveness. She managed to pull herself up over the edge of the cliff, or what remained of it, with her newly freed hand, and she collapsed to the ground in despair. She looked up at the top of the mountain. What would her father do? At that moment, she feared her father. If he knew that she had abandoned Rakshi to save herself, she would have been better off at the bottom of the mountain like Rakshi. Without looking back, she fled down the mountainside as she wept and cried for Rakshi.

The memory vanished and Heredia was left shaking in the darkness. She had tried to forget about Rakshi, about her father, both of whom she had abandoned in an act of selfishness. What have you done? A chill pierced her heart and spread outward. She hadn’t heard that voice in over five years. Five years ago, she fled to this city, hoping that the new scenery would abate her guilt, but it was only a temporary solace.

What have you done? The voice was louder now. Even though she couldn’t see the speaker, she knew who it was. It wasn’t her fault! It had all happened so quickly, and she had tried her best to save him. He was just so heavy… so heavy. If she had tried to lift them both, she would have lost her grip and they would have both died. Rakshi knew it too. There was no way she could have saved him. If you had died too, at least you would not be living in sin.

Heredia opened her eyes and found that tears were streaming from them. The room had gotten darker, the other devotees were mere shadows, barely illuminated by their own candles. She looked at the statue of Ganu and nearly fainted in absolute terror. The god stood with her arm stretched toward Heredia and her eyes were fixed upon her. Heredia covered her mouth to stifle a scream as she stared into the god’s eyes. They were filled with tremendous sorrow, fear, and contempt. Heredia watched in horror as Ganu’s lips parted and whispered, “What have you done?”

Heredia leapt to her feet, weeping and screaming with hysteria. The shadows paid her no heed as she flew down the steps of the temple, the flame of her candle diminishing in the rush of air. Everything seemed so still and quiet save for the sound of her panicked breaths and her feet slapping the path beneath her. She rounded a corner, and a sudden gust of wind extinguished the flame of her candle. She stopped in her tracks as she was plunged into seemingly endless darkness. Her eyes strained to find any trace of reflected starlight on the ground or on the buildings around her, but there was nothing. She looked up into a starless sky and felt the emptiness enveloping her. She shut her eyes against it, trying not to let it seep into her and overtake her. She tore down the street, calling out to Ganu and to Rakshi but there was no answer. Suddenly, the bellowing cry of a horn, deep and resounding as though it was emitted from the very earth, echoed throughout the city as Heredia ran heedlessly into the void.