The volcano loomed large over the tiny village nestled in the quiet valley at its base. A thin hint of smoke and ash wafted out of the mouth of its crater, sending a light dusting of grey-white over the landscape before the prevailing winds.

“The god of the mountain is sleeping,” said the man softly, his eyes keen on the lip of the crater in the distance. “Yes,” replied the woman, “but his slumber is fitful.” “Yes,” he said.

The man held a young girl in his protective arms as they stood in the shadows of a grove of olive trees near the silent moving river. “The god of the mountain has been good to our village for many generations, Shaoliin,” he said looking into the eyes of his companion.

The woman stirred and nodded in agreement, though there was a touch of sadness in her eyes. The man sighed, and taking her hand in his, said, “The rains no longer visit the fields and groves, and our crops have withered. The animals have left the forests and the plains for the lands beyond the silent river. Now all living things in the shadow of the mountain god’s home suffer the same fate,” he continued, “we are all dying.” The woman looked up into his hazel-green eyes, and nodded sadly.

“The god of the mountain is not pleased,” whispered Gyulianni Geiyourd, the lord mayor of the village, his words falling hard on the ears of those gathered. The people of the village stirred at these words, and many stood uneasily under the melancholy gaze of the lord mayor, for though his eyes were troubled, they heard in his voice a tone not of shared pain, but of blame. “The god of the mountain is to be appeased,” he continued, his hushed words carrying on the slight wind, echoing along the dusty alleyways of the village. “He asks obedience of his people – and in the face of wayward hearts he requires the soul of a young maiden to ease his displeasure.”

Gyulianni Geiyourd stood tall, his visage overcome with sadness, but his eyes betrayed the breach within. “Bring a young one to me by nightfall that will appease the god,” he whispered. Behind him nodding in assent stood Tuahm Nelleshbutt, guardian of the rites of spring, and Jhimpanzee Bhurtuni, master of the village treasury, both looking grim, their faces ashen as the dusted envoys of the mountain god. The people averted their eyes, a profound sadness stilling their hearts.

“We must be beyond the pass by sunrise,” said Faahlqinn quietly. “Yes,” said Shaoliin. “We had best wait under the cover of what shadows avail themselves until dusk, then make quickly for the pass,” said Faahlqinn. “Yes. The eye of the night will not open for yet another four nights – our passage will be under the cover of darkness,” whispered Shaoliin. “That is good,” he said in reply.

The young girl looked over her uncle’s shoulder, her gaze falling on the rugged slopes of the dark mountain in the distance. In the fading light of day it appeared as a forlorn shadow, seemingly lifeless except for the wisps of smoke and ash venting into the air over the tranquil valley, but beneath its surface it felt as a dark pall across the land.

The girl shuddered noticeably, and Faahlqinn drew her closer in his arms. “We are safe for the moment, little one,” he whispered. “Tomorrow, we shall rest in the shadows of another mountain, and the sun will touch our every need.” Shaoliin moved closer, and put her arms around Faahlqinn and the young girl. Silence enveloped the three.

“The two are nowhere to be found,” said Tuahm Nelleshbutt nervously, “and the girl must be with them.” Gyulianni Geiyourd frowned, his eyes dark with foreboding, glaring at the two pathetic figures before him causing Nelleshbutt to hesitate and Bhurtuni to quake. “None will speak of them,” said Jhimpanzee Bhurtuni, his voice cracking, his eyes tiny slits, perspiration forming at his temples. “None will say – yet, I believe they know the whereabouts of the girl,” wheezed Nelleshbutt.

A coughing spasm overtook him, and his body wrenched under the strain of his hacking. Bhurtuni stepped back to avoid contagion by the unseen evil spirits wracking Nelleshbutt’s body, and placed his hand cloth over his nose. “How have this man and woman eluded you?” whispered Gyulianni Geiyourd menacingly, his eyes dark pools, the veins in his temples throbbing, the muscles of his neck tight under the skin. “They left the village before you spoke at the gathering – it must have been well before the sun rose, your high lord mayor,” mumbled Nelleshbutt weakly. “We visited their home immediately, but found no one,” added Bhurtuni, his voice trailing off. Geiyourd rose, his hair flying as he whirled about.

He hooked his finger under the nose of Nelleshbutt, and with a sideways glance at Bhurtuni, whispered, “Find the girl, or the god of the mountain will taste not of a maiden, but of tougher fare.” Nelleshbutt and Bhurtuni nodded and whined, “Of course,” and the two, still shaking, slithered out of the lord mayor’s lodging.

Tuahm Nelleshbutt jerked hard on the reins bringing the head of the horse down with a snap. The horse whinnied, and stamped its forehoof. “Hold, foul creature!” Nelleshbutt shouted angrily. The horse pawed the clay raising a plume of dust from the courtyard. “Fie…! Hold steady, or feel the tongue of my whip!” he sneered, raising his arm to punctuate his threat.

The horse swung its head back and forth straining against the reins. Nelleshbutt put his left foot into the stirrup, and grabbing the saddle kicked his right leg up. Misjudging his own athleticism, and not having control of his body as once he did, Nelleshbutt’s foot slammed into the rump of his horse, and the force transferred up his leg, throwing him off balance. He grabbed wildly at the saddle, his eyes growing large – in slow-motion he slid to the side, his hands losing purchase, and he fell backward into space, landing hard on his left shoulder and back. He struggled to breathe, trying to bring air into his expelled lungs as his mind panicked. “Damn!” he finally wheezed, struggling to rise to his feet.

Jhimpanzee Bhurtuni cast a bemused smile upon all this. His laughter brought a scowl from Nelleshbutt. “Bring your wretched ass over here and help me up!” screamed Nelleshbutt. “Okay! Okay!” replied Bhurtuni stifling a giggle.

Bhurtuni came and stood next to the horse, as Nelleshbutt again put his left foot into the stirrup. “You push when I kick my leg up,” said Nelleshbutt. “Umhuh,” smirked Bhurtuni, his eyes alight. Nelleshbutt jumped up, shifting his weight onto his left foot, and in an unsteady motion kicked his right leg up. Bhurtuni slammed his two hands onto the rump of a flailing Nelleshbutt, and shoved upward with all his might. “Hey, easy…!” shouted Nelleshbutt, as Bhurtuni’s assist propelled him up and over the saddle. Nelleshbutt let go of the reins, and grabbed at the horse’s mane, as his body slammed down on the saddle.

The momentum thrust Nelleshbutt onto the far side of an already nervous horse, and as he toppled headlong down the other side his legs kicked up catching Bhurtuni on the chin knocking him backward onto his back. “Damn!” muttered Bhurtuni through bleeding teeth. He raised his head, and through the horse’s legs he could see Nelleshbutt lying on the ground opposite him, his rump sticking up in the air. “Hmmphaa!” stifled Bhurtuni, his eyes watering. “Ah haa, hmmphhaa!” he burst out. “Come here and help me up!” roared Nelleshbutt indignantly. He rolled over, and tried to get to his feet, but due to his excessive weight slumped down again. “Idiot! Time is of the essence – send out the falcon!” roared Nelleshbutt, his eyes glazing over in a fury.

Jhimpanzee Bhurtuni knew better than to continue with this delight, and rose and scurried off to fetch the village lord mayor’s falconers. He returned with a young man with a Peregrine falcon wrapping its talons around a leathern gauntlet on his left arm, a cowl over its head. “Send it off! Find the girl, and bring her to me!” screamed Nelleshbutt.

The young man removed the bird’s cowl, and thrust his arm skyward – the falcon lifted into the air, and circling twice, flew off toward the mountain pass beyond the silent river. Throughout the village many spied the bird streaking southward, and each in turn passed on word that the village lord mayor was seeking the young girl. Word spread quickly, and soon all the villagers knew of Gyulianni Geiyourd’s dark intent.

The westering sun traveled its arc across a cloudless sky and dipped toward the mountains beyond the heathen plains. The three travelers waited beneath the trees as twilight closed about them. “It is nearly time,” whispered Faahlqinn. The young girl rose from her playing and approached her uncle. “Is it far?” she asked, her eyes wide. The man knelt down, and taking the girl in his arms, said, “It is a long night’s journey, little one. We will move as quickly as our energies and the elements permit. If the gods favor our travel, we shall be through the pass before the sun greets us on the morrow.” The young girl smiled and held tightly to her uncle’s neck.

As the evening shadows lengthened and deepened in contrast, the three left the sanctuary of the little grove of olive trees, and began their night’s journey. They kept a wary eye on the mountain as they stayed within the shadows. Soon the night fully engulfed them, and their travel was veiled from eyes of those not intended. Still, the countryside in darkness was as familiar to Faahlqinn as the nether reaches of his mind, both being places he visited often. They moved quickly, and the dark mountain receded behind them.

The heavens at night stand in stark contrast to the heavens lit by the sun – only in the mind’s eye can one consider both together. For many the heavens at night pose as threatening, aligned with the powers of darkness. But images in Shaoliin’s mind of the darkened heavens hold it as dear as the sky by day, and she moves within the world of shadows as a familiar haven.

Home for her is never distant even under a night sky. As the three moved through the realm of shadows, Shaoliin hummed an ancient melody, one lifted out of memory traces long laid down in the backwaters of her mind. She knew not from whence it came, nor of its origin in the line of her family, but it was another of those familiar refrains that filled her heart and life to overflowing. In spite of the recent hard times, life was good. She reached out a hand, and laid it on the shoulder of the young girl as they traversed the well-worn pathways leading beside the silent river toward the gap in the mountains.

“The morning sun is near wakening,” murmured Faahlqinn, “and we are yet far distant from the sanctuary of the mountain pass.” Shaoliin nodded in the darkness. “All is going well for us – heed not the doubts that come of the darkness; the leading of your heart is true,” smiled the woman.

The young girl snuggled deeper into the man’s arms, seeking sanctuary in her slumber. The three moved steadily throughout the night, as the lights of the night sky above moved across the heavens. Then, in the darkness behind them, there was a sound – the man woke the young girl, and motioned the woman and the girl behind him. Faahlqinn stepped forward, his staff by his side, his eyes clear, grave, and steady. The sounds grew louder.

“Hold, and identify thyself,” spoke the man with authority. The noises ceased, and out of the darkness came a voice: “Ho, Faahlqinn, my friend! We come not as enemies – put aside your staff.”

Out of the darkness stepped a large muscular man of thirty and five cycles around the sun, and behind him all the families of the village. “We observed the village lord mayor’s falcon on the wing, and knew he sought you and the girl. We followed his winged messenger, and true to its nature and skill it led us here. And lest it return and betray your presence, the lord mayor’s secondary falconer retrieved the bird, and it now travels with us.” And into his circle of view stepped a beaming young man with a falcon sitting upon his wrist, a cowl covering its sleek head.

As the first rays of the early morning sun painted the eastern horizon, a low rolling rumble was felt throughout the area surrounding the volcano. The ground moved ever so slightly. Gyulianni Geiyourd turned to Tuahm Nelleshbutt and Jhimpanzee Bhurtuni with a surprised expression on his face, but before a word could escape his lips, the earth moved once again.

This time a great undulating motion threw the three men off their feet, at the same time knocking the furniture into a shambles against the walls. As the men sought to rise, yet another shock struck the land, and this time an explosion brought the roof crashing down into the room. Lord mayor Geiyourd looked through the shattered rafters of his home, and to his horror the top of the mountain was gone. In its place was a rising column of angry orange and dark clouds suffused with a swirling mass of debris.

The initial shock wave struck the village within seconds, leveling all buildings still standing. The intense heat from the molten magma thrown skyward fell upon the village minutes later, igniting wooden debris as tinder, casting everything into an inferno that birthed hurricane winds as it sucked the surrounding air into its belly. Fires raged out of control, engulfing everything that would burn within miles, and scorching all else. The smoke of the destroyed village rose amidst the rising steam and ash, and was lost in the amber smoke-filled skies above the home of the mountain god.

Shaoliin sighed deeply as she watched the memories of her village, now ash and smoke, rising skyward. Looking into the steel-grey eyes of the young girl and Faahlqinn, her mate, she turned with them toward the south and the valley beyond…