The Lost Collection Of Umne.

Eran was tired but had to keep moving. There was no telling if reinforcements were coming for the fallen tribe. Even after being held captive by the Bednaarians as long as he had, he wasn’t fully wise to how they functioned. It was entirely plausible that they were able to channel communication posthumously. So powerful was their mental configuration. He had to get as far away as possible from the site of the massacre lest a fresh wave of the hellish mind manipulators descended into the caves and found him. 

He held his dim torch out in front of him and navigated the rocky pathway. It had been chiseled out many cycles ago by the Umne tribe, no doubt. It meandered down and around the elongated cave walls. Only his fading light kept him company in the cool, dark cave. The silence allowed him room to think. With Melkit, his primary mind manipulator dead, physically at least, Eran found himself relearning his brain. He parsed through the myriad of murky memories and tried to sort fact from fiction, reality from implanted lies. 

He recalled that his name and title was Eran, son of Juust and Kima but he couldn’t conjure up any recollection of said parents. He remembered walking…somewhere and intending to walk further but these things were not connected to anything; not a place, not an event; nothing. A few other disjointed memories drifted uselessly in his muddled brain and he clicked his tongue in frustration. 

How long was this going to last, he thought to himself. Was he doomed to walk this subterranean cave system in darkness and ignorance forever? Was the damage Melkit did to him permanent? There was no one to ask save for the bats that hung quietly high above his head. 

He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. He didn’t have the energy, time nor calories to waste on crying. He continued to hold his torch out in front of him with one hand while dragging the palm of his other hand along the cave walls. If he couldn’t exactly see, maybe he could feel his way out of the cave. 

It happened that while dragging his hand along the cool igneous rock wall, he felt a crack, like a fault line. Pausing, he ran his hand over the spot again and felt it. The crack was vertical. In the sparse light produced by his torch, Eran noticed the evident scar running from the base of the wall to a few meters above his head. It was easy to miss if one wasn’t looking for it but sure as death, the crack was there. A spark of hope lit up inside Eran but he didn’t react much to it as perhaps there was nothing to the crack. 

He pushed against the rock with the palm of his hand and the rock didn’t budge. 

“It’s a rock. It’s not going to move.” He said out loud to himself. He gave another non-committal push to the same result. Eran shrugged and his spirit sagged. He was trapped in this meandering underground cave system with very little food, no hope and soon, no light. As far as the world knew he was dead and the world, for all intent and purposes, was dead to him. His mind was a disheveled stew and he didn’t even recall the reason or purpose he had initially ventured out and walked thousands of miles. What was the point? 

“I should have killed myself after slaughtering the Bednaarians!” Eran cursed.

 The madness that had gripped him when he first raged against Melkit and her shackles threatened to overtake him again. For much of his life Eran had not been given to rage but increasingly he found himself on the cusp of going into blinding rages. It had served him well in finally defeating his captors but it was not always a useful emotion to hold. He stood still and inhaled a long and deep breath. On the exhale, he leaned his forearms onto the wall. For a few moments he stood like this breathing in and out. Finally, he lifted his head and looked at the crack with renewed interest.  

Such a precise cut in solid stone.   

This was no time to be defeated. It certainly was no time to fear looking foolish for pushing against the entire strength of a cave wall. He placed both palms on the rock and pushed. To his absolute amazement, the rock moved an inch. He put all his weight behind him and pushed and pushed and gradually, the rock moved back until there was an opening large enough to see into. 

Sensing a life line, Eran grabbed the torch off the ground and shone its weak light into this secret lair. The darkness was almost impenetrable but Eran was able to make out some sort of open space with various crates on the ground. Parts of the walls had sections of rock blasted out to create cubby-like openings which seemed to serve as shelves, though it was hard to tell what was on them from where he stood. With nothing to lose, Eran wriggled through the opening and began to explore. 

The air inside the cave was stiff. It was also noticeably warmer inside this little nook within the cave. The layout followed the natural contours of the cave, however, there was an area in the middle of the ground that appeared to have served as a hearth in times past. Spent charcoal from however long ago huddled in an ashen gray heap. The smoke from many fires stained the cave ceiling and a closeby wall which didn’t have any cubby’s hewn in it. 

Eran bent down to touch the charcoal and it was cold as he expected. Yet there had to be combustibles around. It was clear his own torch wouldn’t yield light much longer. There was a crate that leaned against the smoke stained wall. He approached and tried to open it but the lid was firmly attached. As with all things down here, forcefulness was required. The ancient crate wouldn’t just give up its secret bounty after a few tugs from a limp wrist. Eran gripped the corner of the wooden top and pulled and this time it flew off to reveal a most useful cache of items. 

Nestled atop a bed of coarse, dry grass, Eran was pleased to see a cluster of twigs which were bound with similarly coarse twine. Next to them were blocks of wood, about seven in total and two flintstones. Instinctively he grabbed the stones and immediately began striking one against the other. Sparks flew almost immediately and Eran whooped in delight. He quickly cleared away the old charcoal and organized three blocks of wood and a stack of twigs in a tight circle before striking the stones vigorously over and over until one of the bone dry twigs caught light. Quite soon after, Eran was able to see what exactly was on the walls. 

There were eight cubby shelves in total and each held a collection of bound books and scrolls. As Eran poured over each section, he couldn’t help but feel like he had stumbled upon a sacred library curated by the mysterious but seemingly vanquished and extinct Umne tribe. He picked up a book which was bound in thick maroon leather and had the words “Talelum a Umne” engraved in gold on the cover. Running his fingers over the print, Eran was in awe of what he held. The Umne were a vaunted people whom many believed to be more myth than real. Seemingly transfixed by the phrase, Eran stared at it for an elongated period of time. 

“Talelum a Umne” he mouthed first. 

“Talelum a Umne” he said out loud. 

He held his breath and waited, as if expectant for some event to take place. The utterance of the phrase might be a trigger to something happening, he thought. He stood still and listened intently. He heard nothing. He began to turn the thick cover open but paused. He was in uncharted territory and if the lore was anything to go by, the mysterious Umne deserved respect and reverence. 

Not familiar with anything about this peculiar race of people nor their ways, Eran defaulted to his interpretation of respect and honor. 

Bowing his head and focusing his mind, Eran brought to the fore of his consciousness thoughts and feelings of gratitude. 

Gratitude for the fire that now gave him light and companionship against the darkness. 

Gratitude for this hidden place in which to let his guard down even just a little. 

Gratitude for the library of information at his literal fingertips.

“You do not know me. I am only your kin in the sense that we collectively live upon this living rock, one of many. Allow me, please, to rest my feet, feed my mind and then depart from you, tribe of Umne.” 

The fire crackled and Eran’s heartbeat slowed to a peaceful tempo. He opened the book and looked within.