Mukoli

May Her Roots Grow Strong

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The other Aborians were dying before I even felt the poison touch my roots. Old and young, wilting with each new season. We would all pass eventually.

I was the strongest of our kind, the one most likely to make it to the border in time. At 400 seasons old, my trunk was sturdy and tough, not thin with adolescence nor rigid with old age. I would venture east and discover who or what had been harming us. 

Seasons passed as my roots grew and my body shifted forward. I bore fruit. I bore leaves. I continued.

When I reached the edge of our land and the start of theirs, I was 500 seasons old. I knew my ancestors could no longer guide me, tangling their roots with mine to give me strength for my journey.

Still, I continued.

Snow came and passed. Flowers grew on my branches. Wind danced along my limbs. And then I saw it.

Tall structures built of sun, radiating light too harsh for my bark. Chaos grew in the soil around me, killing anything that once was alive. I watched the structures grow, the soil die.

When they came to me, I warned them of the destruction they were causing. But they moved too fast. They couldn’t hear my voice among their own. They couldn’t hear me crying as they took more nutrients out of the soil, my lifeforce. They couldn’t hear my body crying as it withered away, back to the land it had come from.

As I retreated into myself, all I could hope was that one day they would know what they did and that somehow, Yakabora would be okay. 

#

Andile just wanted to go back to bed and sleep for another hundred years. Their memory was foggy, their back was twisted, and the suns shining through their cave were just a bit too bright.

“What do the beings need this time?” they muttered to themselves as they stretched. Still, sometimes they wished that the Yakaborians were a bit more independent. It felt like they woke every hundred years which was just, well, too much.

“Who are you talking to?” a woman asked from the entrance of the cave.

Andile looked up, trying to figure out why they hadn’t seen her before, until they noticed her bare feet in the dirt. A mage. The last time they woke, there were only a few practicing magic. 

“The ground,” Andile joked. 

The woman didn’t find it funny. Or maybe she did and forgot to laugh. Beings did that sometimes when they were with Andile.

They pulled at their eyes, urging their sleep fog to go away. Then, briefly, some parts of their memory returned. The woman was a Yakaborian. A being that could create something from nothing, which was a feat in magic itself. They could even communicate with each other telepathically, just like everything on the planet.

Her clothing moved, and not just in the light wind. Along her wrap ran intricate silver and gray spirals, sliding gently around her body like a snake. The last time the Yakaborians woke Andile, the beings were just starting to understand their magic from the few that had it. They had made quite impressive advancements since then.

“I’m Iva,” she said.

“Nice to meet you. I’m—”

“The Great Slumberer Are you okay with teleporting?”

“Yeah, I love it,” they lied. “Let me just get my—”

Iva didn’t wait. She grabbed their hand and closed her eyes. 

“Or I suppose we can go now,” they started.

“I need quiet to concentrate, Slumberer,” she said. 

Iva wiggled her toes.  She said some words Andile recognized, but couldn’t translate just yet. Their brain was still half asleep.

But, their stomach was not. It turned upside down as dust kicked up around them, making everything hard to see. All sense of direction disappeared, and all sense of gravity as well. And then, it returned. As did the contents of whatever they ate before their slumber.

They let go of Iva’s hand and placed it on their stomach. Throwing up wouldn’t be good manners.

Grass. The ground had changed.

On a patch of grass, was a tree. No, not a tree, a being. It was darker than any other tree Andile had seen before.

Something was familiar about it, but Andile struggled to filter through the thousands upon thousands of years of history to connect the pieces. They glanced around and found a forest just beyond the tree, stretching wide on either side.

Their head hurt trying to remember. They’d have to go about this problem-solving the old-fashioned way. 

“What happened?” they asked, turning back to Iva. 

Instead of responding, Iva looked behind her as an older woman approached them, flanked by three guards. Her wrap mimicked Iva’s but in cleaner lines. It trailed past her feet and pooled on the grass. 

“I know you enjoy transportation, dear,” she said, “but remember the rules. Out of all Yakaborians, you should always be on your best behavior.” 

Iva didn’t respond, but Andile noticed that her feet clenched. Maybe she was responding with her mind. Andile looked back at the woman. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. I’ve been asleep for a few generations,” they said, offering a hand, a greeting that had yet to fail them. “I’m Andile, The Great—”

“I know who you are,” the woman said. She looked at their hand like it was an apparition, so Andile coughed and put it behind their back like that’s what they were intending all along. Nobody spoke for a moment then the woman nodded at them.

Customs had changed since Andile had last been awoken. They would have to work extra hard to fit in.

Not that Andile was ever good at that. Fitting in was hard when you were only awake for a few days every hundred years or so.

“I’m Danielle. Welcome in the name of Yakabora.”

“May her roots grow strong,” the guards and Iva responded.

“Uh, thank you,” they said. Clearly, many things had changed. 

Maybe the Yakaborians had a library somewhere that could help them get more acquainted with the culture.

Danielle walked toward the being on the patch of grass. Andile followed and knelt down next to the bark. It was dark with burn marks.

“While scouting for an expansion last week, one of our citizens found this tree outside of the forest that wasn’t there last year. We tried to teleport it back to the woods, but it, it did this instead.” Danielle paused and looked at the being. “Our magic has never caused something so murderous to happen.”

“It withered,” Andile whispered. They resisted the urge to push their fingers into the branches, see if they could move the life of the grass into the being. It wouldn’t work. The Great Slumberer was created to help solve issues and problems impartially with the knowledge of the world. Not keep beings alive.

Danielle nodded. She moved closer. Iva stayed behind, watching.

“We were hoping you could help us discover what this is and what it means for our magic. If it is no longer safe to use, we need to know.” Danielle glanced at Iva, but she was staring at the tree in silence. “I will give you full access to all records in our library to help you remember. As heir, my daughter knows the books better than anyone. She can help you research.”

“Great. I’m excited to meet her and figure this out.”

Danielle laughed. Andile tilted their head. They must have missed something.

“Great Slumberer,” she started, “you’ve already met her.”

That’s when it clicked. They looked over at Iva, who was rolling her eyes.

“Let’s hope you’re better with books than with people,” she said.

#

“Welcome to the heart of Yakabora,” Iva said with a wave around.

Andile looked up and up and up to find soaring spires. Against the depthless white sky, there was no end. These beings had advanced since the last awakening.

“My people have come far with our magic. We have made advancements in every regard possible. Economically, scientifically, even spiritually. We learned how to better our people. We developed new spells for the users, new structures, new developments. And yet,” Iva paused for a moment. 

“Your mom said no magic?” 

Iva looked over and glared. Andile looked away. They were never good at small talk.

Iva walked up to big glass doors and opened them. Andile stayed behind, marveling at the architecture. How the whole building seemed to breathe knowledge. This would certainly help them learn more about the culture and help them solve the mysterious magic burns. It might even help them remember parts of the culture that had changed or that they’d forgotten in their slumber.

Iva was already putting book after book on the middle table when Andile caught up. They watched her work, trying to figure out if it was smarter to help or stay away.

“Do you need any—”

“That’s ‘bout all that I can find on our magic,” she said and started walking back out. “Have fun.”

“Wait, aren’t you going to help?”

“I did. I got you the books. Now, I have things to do.”

“Like what?” they asked, but Iva was already leaving, clearly uninterested in Andile’s engaging conversation.

Andile looked at the books. While it wasn’t ideal that she disappeared like that, she did leave them with quite the collection to start with. They’d be caught up in no time.

They had never been so happy.

#

They had never been so frustrated.

Something must be missing either from their foggy memory or the texts in front of them. After hours of reading about the goddess Yakabora and how She bestowed her people with peaceful magic from the core of the planet, Andile had gotten nowhere.

Maybe they were taking the wrong approach. They needed something more vivid, something more tactile to jog their mind awake.

They closed the last book Iva had put on the table and took a deep breath. Then, they walked through the shimmery door at the end of the hallway and into the light. 

They weren’t expecting Iva to be right outside, waiting for them. Or, well, seemingly waiting for them. She was sitting on the ground, eyes closed.

“I couldn’t find anything,” Andile said, sitting next to her.

She didn’t respond.

“The books just talked about Yakabora and her magic. Nothing about the withered tree we saw. And, so far, nothing in my memory either.”

Iva still didn’t respond. Andile leaned back on their arms. 

“Are you talking to your mom?” they asked. 

“No.”

“What are you doing then?”

Iva sighed and stared at Andile. “I’m trying to connect with the magic, which is very hard to do when someone is pestering you.”

“Connect?” 

Iva got up and started to walk away. They sensed they’d done something wrong.

“I need something else to prompt the memories,” they shouted, hoping she would stop leaving. “I know they’re in there somewhere, and I know they’ll help if I can just access them, but the books are only filling me with headaches..”

“Or maybe you don’t know how to read,” she mumbled.

“Of course I know how to read. I’m The Great Slumberer.” 

Instead of Iva responding with some teenage snarky comment, she stopped walking. Then, right as Andile felt they should say something to fill the silence, she spoke.

“Did you choose? You know, to be The Great Slumberer?”

Andile thought back to the oath they’d taken. They’d been so young at the time. So unaware of what the job would entail.

But, through time, they realized how much people needed someone who could help, someone who could provide guidance with the memories of their ancestors. 

“No, I didn’t,” they admitted.

“Do you regret it?”

“I’ve made some mistakes, but no. I don’t. I’m good at what I do, I think.”

“What if you… weren’t good at what’s expected of you? What if… you didn’t want to, you know, be what people want? What if you just wanted to sit and stare at the sky and be still with your magic for a moment?”

Andile sensed the conversation wasn’t about what they’d thought it was about. “Did you want to talk about something?”

Iva shook her head, but turned around to face Andile. “No. Why are you even out here and not in the library? You get scared of the big words?”

“Uh, no. I need you to take me back to the place where the magic went awry. I think that might help remind me.”

Iva rolled her eyes. She grabbed their hand and teleported them out. Andile’s stomach lurched. 

When the dust settled, Andile felt the grass beneath their feet. They leaned down next to the blades to see the grass had now withered and dried out just like the tree.

“It’s dying,” Iva said. 

Andile nodded and stood up. They were missing something. They circled around the being, hoping their memory would come back in some coherent way. That’s when they noticed the forest again.

They started to walk towards it, past the withered tree and grass and back onto the dusty ground. Then, once realizing that the walking was getting them nowhere close, they ran. 

“Where are you going?” Iva called, but Andile didn’t answer. They moved as quickly as they could, running for what felt like over ten minutes, until they reached the edge.

 The forest was thick with branches and trunks, to the point that Andile wouldn’t be able to pick out a single tree, even this close. Everything had stopped growing in a strong line. All the grass, trees, and even the branches. It was as though it was pressed against a clear wall. 

Andile touched a branch. Nothing seemed to be physically stopping the trees from going further. And yet, all of them were losing color and shape. All of them were withering. Dying. Not as bad as the first, but heading that way.

That’s when the pieces clicked and their memory of their second awakening came back to them.

“What in Yakabora?” Iva said, catching up.

Andile turned back to her. “I think you were right.”

“Of course I was.” Iva paused. “Right about what exactly?” 

“I don’t know how to read. But not for the reason you thought. It’s because I wasn’t looking in the right places. I need you to take me back to the library. And soon.”

Iva raised her eyebrows but did just as they asked. Andile wasn’t sure if the tumbling of their stomach was from excitement or nausea this time. But when it settled, they started walking down the middle of the library. Sprinting even. Solving problems was what they lived for, quite literally. It always gave them a rush, almost like a second wind right before bed.

“We’ve been going about it all wrong, Iva. All of it.” Andile ran down the aisle. 

“What do you mean?”

“Everything. Have you ever heard of the Aborians?” They fingered through each book. They couldn’t believe that, after all these years, they’d just forgotten what they had done. 

Iva didn’t respond, just followed Andile through each shelf. 

“Where are your treaties?” they asked.

“Aisle 5. Why?”

Andile took a sharp turn and started scanning the shelves. “Thousands of years ago, when I had just become Andile, I noticed that the two species on this planet were struggling to live in harmony. I knew that the tree you showed me was a living creature, but I couldn’t remember the specifics. Your people called me all the time for every little problem, and I guess the idea of another species just fogged up in my mind at some point.”

“Wait, two beings?”

“Yes, your people and the Aborians.” They pulled out a book and started to thumb through it until they got what they were looking for. The treaty. It was a little tattered around the edges, but still readable. 

“That’s a blank piece of paper,” Iva said.

“To you maybe. But not to the Tree People. To them, it is vibrant rings of language.”

#

Danielle was at the edge of the forest as soon as Iva told her it was urgent. Andile stood there in front of the trees, while Iva held the book to her chest.

“What have you found?” Danielle started with.

“There was a mistake. My mistake,” Andile said. “I was unaware of what I was doing when I helped create the treaty. How unfair the whole thing was from the beginning. I should have encouraged communication instead of strict boundaries that would only last as long as your populations were small,” they said. Danielle stared at them, but said nothing. Andile took that as permission to continue. “Iva, the book please.” 

She handed them the book and they lay it on the edge of the forest floor to let the trees know they were finally listening.

“How many Yakaborians use magic?”

“A few hundred. Why?” Danielle responded.

“That’s what I thought. It’s too many. When you started, they were only a few, but as you grew, as you both grew… Sorry, I’m probably not making any sense.” They turned to Iva. “You know magic, yes?”

She nodded.

“How did you learn it?”

“I don’t know, the same way everyone does, I guess. I just… learned how to be still.”

Andile smiled. Exactly.

“When I helped create the treaty between your two people, I wrote it in the language of the magic you use. The language of the Aborians. The language, the rings of the tree people. It’s all from them, you see. It’s the magic in their roots that allows you to build your structures and create as you do. For every act of creation, there must be destruction.”

“We’ve been killing them,” Iva whispered.

Andile nodded. They gestured to the book.

“You didn’t know that you were using too much magic. You didn’t even know that you were pushing against the boundary line. But while they made sure to uphold their end of the treaty and not pass the boundary the two of you had created, you continued to kill them. And when your languages diverged and you forgot how to be still, they tried to warn you by sending one of their own.”

No one spoke for a while. Iva stared at the trees as though in a trance. 

“How do we fix it?” Danielle asked. “We can’t give up magic.”

“No, but you can learn how to listen. Learn how to create with, not against. And,” Andile looked at Iva, “I think your daughter might just be the person who can take on this task.”

“Me? What can I do?” she asked. 

“Nothing you haven’t already been doing. Just sit. Be patient. It could take years, decades even. But, if you wait, if you stay, the Aborians will tell you what they need. And you can tell your mother what you hear.”

Iva paused. She looked back at Danielle, then looked at Andile.

“Are you sure this is the only way?” Danielle asked. Her face was lined with worry.

“She will still be here. A daughter of yours and a daughter of the forest.”

“Why can’t you do it?” Danielle asked.

Andile responded with a yawn. Danielle sighed. She looked over at her daughter and took her hands.

“Are you sure?” Danielle whispered.

Iva nodded. “You know I would never make a good ruler. I break too many rules. And, besides,” Iva said with a chuckle, “I was always better at being still than anyone else.”

Danielle looked at her daughter and nodded. Iva seemed to understand what she was getting into. What it would take. They hugged.

Iva walked over to Andile. They led her to the edge of the forest, right against the Aborians, and motioned for her to sit. She did.

“You can read better than I thought,” she said with a light smile.

“It’s my specialty,” they said as Iva closed her eyes. “Good luck.”

She bowed and took a deep breath. Soon she was as still as the forest behind her. 

Andile stepped back. Danielle cried quietly. They both watched for a while as branches crawled around Iva, circling her wrap in a harmonious pattern. Andile looked back at the tree to see a single pink bud sprouting from the tallest branch. 

“Why isn’t she responding?” Danielle said after a few minutes.

“Because she’s learning the ways of the Aborians. Patience.”

Andile stayed with Danielle until the tears had subsided and the world was dark. Moss had grown beneath Iva, and she was surrounded by branches hugging her heart, but she didn’t look like she was in pain. In fact, she looked more peaceful than ever.  

When the moons were high in the sky, Danielle smiled. The silence of the last few hours broke. “I can hear her,” she said. “I can hear Iva.”

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