“Good morning, Niles,” she says softly in his ear. She hugs him and gently butterfly kisses his forehead. Young Niles lets go of the embrace for a morning stretch.

 

“M-o-r-n-i-n-g, N-a-n-n-a,” he slowly responds, arms extended and fingers folded in front of him. In a daze, he pauses to gather his first thoughts of the day. An idea springs to mind. He looks up at his grandmother with a determined look in his eyes.

 

“Can you tell me a story, please? You know, one of the ones that Grandpa doesn’t like me to hear?” he spouts, rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes. “Please? I won’t tell him.”

 

The matriarch of the Jaden family suppresses her desire to laugh at his concern. She leans over the edge of the bed for another hug.

 

“Please, Nanna?” he pleads softly in her ear.

 

She loosens her tender hold and sits down next to his bed in a large rocking chair made of burnished redwood. Her eyes, chestnut and piercing, remain focused on his face. Nanna folds her hands together like she has done hundreds of times before. On a small end-table next to the bed rests a smooth, stone mug filled with hot tea. On the mug’s side is an engraved gold emblem that reads “I Love Butterfly Kisses from Grandma.” It is one of her most prized possessions, even with all the power and wealth of the city’s founding family under her roof.

 

“Hmm,” she rumbles, considering his request. “I’ll tell you a story now if you promise to eat a good breakfast afterwards, okay?” The slender young boy nods his head in agreement.

 

“So, what would you like for me to share with you today?” she asks, knowing full well his list of favorites.

 

“Mesequoya, Nanna,” he replies without hesitation. “And don’t leave out any details, ‘kay?”

 

His doting grandmother agrees. She reaches for her tea and quietly takes a sip. Cupping the warm mug in her hands, she clears her throat to begin. “According to legend,” Nanna starts in a mystical tone, “when the Jadenbu and Acaba first walked into Evergreen’s western valley ten thousand years ago, they saw in the sky hundreds of miles to the east an unimaginable sight. It was a single redwood tree taller and wider than the Grand Divide itself. Because of its size, the two native tribes named it ‘Mesequoya.’ The name means ‘the great redwood tree that touches the suns.’”

 

“It didn’t really touch our suns, did it?” wonders Niles aloud.

 

“The Jadenbu and Acaba believed that it did,” she replies. “I’m sure that if you walked among the two tribes all of those centuries ago and witnessed what they had seen, then you would believe it, too.”

 

“‘Kay,” responds young Niles, as he adjusts his top-sheet and comforter. Then he leans back in his bed and pulls his bedcovers up to his chin. He and his grandmother exchange smiles. She resumes the story.

 

“On its million-year skyward journey, Mesequoya towered above much of the eastern land farthest from the two morning suns. It had quite an impact on the land, too. Needle-leaves from the mighty tree were carved out and used as canoes by these early settlers. Fallen branches became fortress homes for their families. Sap from its branches and roots poured into deep, narrow valleys. The gummy substance from Mesequoya flowed as streams and rivers, attracting and trapping different types of animals for a constant supply of food and clothing,” she says. “Mesequoya also affected the plant and insect world in unusual ways.”

 

“Tell me how, Nanna.”

 

“Well, mushrooms the size of open fields grew on its bark to provide food and shelter for animals and insects alike. Ten-foot-long caterpillar larvae hung from its branches and grew into multi-colored butterflies with wing spans as wide as our house. The earliest stories and drawings describe how these enormous and playful creatures could be seen from long distances fluttering from one branch to another and disappearing in and out of the clouds.”

 

“Whoa,” comments Niles, peering out of his bedroom window from under the covers. “That would be awesome to see. They were big enough to ride, weren’t they, Nanna?”

 

“I suppose they were, but you’d have to catch them first,” she chuckles. Niles giggles at the possibility.

 

Nanna Jaden’s eyes widen as she puts on a more serious face. She stares deep into Niles’ eyes. “There is also a dangerous and frightening side to the legend. So much so that even the men of our family no longer speak of it.” She shivers visibly at the thought, knowing her grandson is watching closely. “You’re just a little guy, Niles. Are you sure you want to hear about it?” she simpers, trying to maintain a straight face.

 

“Oh yes, Nanna,” he answers, pulling the bedcovers over his nose. In a muffled voice, he says, “I’m not a little guy. I don’t even use bendy straws anymore. I’m a big boy and I can handle it.”

 

“I know you are, little darling,” she responds, again suppressing the desire to chuckle at her most precious treasure of all. “You’re just like your daddy was at your age,” she adds, staring at Niles a few seconds longer than usual. Quick to move the subject away from his father, she says, “Now let’s continue, but at your own risk.” Nanna Jaden takes a second sip of tea and a deep breath.

 

“Among the different kinds of insects that lived during the time of Mesequoya were many thousands of large and deadly creatures called humites.”

 

“Describe them for me, Nanna.”

 

“Well, a humite was a soft-bodied, pale red creature with a termite-shaped head, long, sharp protruding jaws, and a body about the length and weight of a horse.”

 

“Do you mean the size of a pony, like the one I ride, or a full-grown one, like the ones you and Grandpa sometimes ride?” Though Niles already knows the answer, Nanna Jaden plays along.

 

“A full-grown one, like the ones we take out into the countryside and sometimes see racing at the fairgrounds.”

 

“Whoa! They’re longer than my bed, huh? Now tell me more, ‘kay, Nanna?”

 

“Yes, they were quite large,” she says. “Humites lived and worked in social groups in the warmest parts of Mesequoya. They usually made their homes inside the lower and middle branches and in its main trunk. While they were not very smart, everyone feared them because they fed on nearly anything that crawled, flew or walked – especially people,” she adds.

 

“You mean Jadenbu and Acaba people, right?” he interjects from beneath his bed sheets.

 

“Any people, Niles,” she replies. “Their queen was the most dangerous of all creatures throughout the land. A queen was twice the size of a worker humite and very smart. Those she captured were not immediately eaten. Instead, their fates were worse. The queen would grasp her prey by the neck with her sharp jaws, holding it still with her powerful front legs. Then she would slowly bite into her victim’s neck and paralyze it using small amounts of venom. Once paralyzed, the victim would be cocooned by the queen and hung upside down within her den to be eaten later – limb by limb – at her leisure.”

 

Young Niles covers his head completely with the bed covers. “Were humites real, Nanna?” he asks in disbelief. “Did they really walk around where we live?”

 

In a soft, compassionate voice, his Nanna comments, “Don’t worry, little darling. That was over ten thousand years ago. They’re no longer in Evergreen.” Her words calm Niles’ nerves. He lowers the sheets enough to peek out.

 

“But they were here,” he says.

 

“When humites were not hunting for their next meal,” she continues, “they spent their days boring into Mesequoya’s soft, fresh wood, either to nest or to make room for their colonies. In doing so, unknowingly, they were destroying parts of the gigantic redwood and their home at the same time. It took a million years for Mesequoya to reach beyond the clouds and spread her branches over much of eastern Evergreen. Yet she could not withstand the humite infestation, which took place over just a few centuries. Mesequoya was too weak. She was going to die.”

 

Puzzled, Niles sits up in bed and asks, “How could she die, Nanna? She was so big.”

 

“Everything has a beginning, a middle and an end, Niles, no matter what the size. Her final day in Evergreen came during a terrible storm. With a fierce and steady wind blowing out to sea, bolts of lightning struck over and over around the base and lower portions of her trunk. Near nightfall, after the constant chain of lightning strikes ended, Mesequoya let out a long, ghastly sound that shook the land. The Jadenbu and Acaba covered their ears and huddled close in their homes while they stared into the sky in fear of what would happen next.”

 

“What happened next?” he replies quickly, with an emerging grin.

 

“The great redwood tree began to lean across the Grand Divide toward their villages and slowly lean back toward the ocean. The more she tipped in each direction, the louder were the cracking sounds coming from her many limbs and wide trunk. During Mesequoya’s back and forth motion, many of her branches gored parts of the Grand Divide and surrounding hills and valleys.”

 

“Whoa, that’s a big tree.”

 

“The ground shook furiously,” adds Nanna, “as leaves, branches and other debris flew in all directions.” Young Niles is fixed on her every word.

 

“Then people claim to have heard sounds unlike any other in their lives. It was a long series of deafening cracks followed by the roar of water as she hit the ocean on her side. Within just a few minutes from the first frightening sounds of her collapse that fateful day, Mesequoya was gone, taking the humites with her to the bottom of the ocean. Left behind were broken branches, a jagged, ten-mile-wide redwood stump and an enormous root system that, according to our best scientists, extends hundreds of miles in all directions on the surface and below ground.”

 

“And that’s where we live today, right?” perks Niles. “Our home here in Jaden is on Mesequoya’s stump, right?” he asks, hoping to affirm what he has come to know.

 

She gently nods her head and replies, “We live on the remains of a once tremendous life force named by the Jadenbu and Acaba nearly one hundred centuries ago. Out of respect, the founders of our new world here in Jaden continued to use this name even though they were determined to sever all ties with their past. So the answer to your question is “yes.’ For generations, members of our family have believed that we live on the surface of Mesequoya. At least the smart ones do,” she says smugly, with a smile. Niles giggles at her obvious gibe at his grandfather and many of the old guard in the Jaden family.

 

“Legend also tells us that the large, amber-filled ravine nearly halfway up the Grand Divide was caused by one of Mesequoya’s gigantic limbs snapping off and crashing into the mountainside during that terrible storm,” says Nanna. “In its wake, several hundred humites drowned in a river of sap that flowed from the huge, smoldering branch. The branch also was believed to be the home of one of their queens. Over time, the sap hardened into amber, forever entombing these terrible creatures and their queen within this deep ravine.”

 

With a sense of relief, Niles remarks, “I’m glad I didn’t live back then, when humites were around. Munch, munch,” he adds, making the sound of something or someone being eaten.

 

“Me too, Niles. Crunch, crunch,” she adds, with a wrinkled-up nose. They both chuckle an uneasy chuckle.

 

“Nanna,” wonders young Niles, “why do Grandpa and other men in our family tell us that none of this story is true ? Why do they try to hide it from me?”

 

“That’s a good question,” she replies with a sigh. Nanna takes a long, considered breath and slowly exhales. “As you know, ten thousand years have passed since Mesequoya and the humites perished. That’s a very long time. In the centuries that followed Mesequoya’s death, fear among the tribal leaders that some of the humites escaped death and would someday return caused them to move their entire villages into deep, wooded valleys hidden well below ground. These valleys were located many miles west of the Grand Divide, far away from areas where Mesequoya once stood tall and proud. In spite of their move, fear and even panic continued in their hidden worlds, so much so that life among the Jadenbu and Acaba during these centuries was filled with much hardship.”

 

“What kind of hardship, Nanna?” he asks, with caring eyes.

 

“Because the tribal leaders refused to leave their deep, wooded valleys, during long periods without rain, they ran low on water. Many types of food and important herbs used to help heal the sick were also in scarce supply,” says Nanna. “Legend holds that a Great Spirit, hearing their pleas for help, sent special birds called quarlots to live among the two tribes and teach them new ways to survive.”

 

“Were they talking birds?” asks Niles, with an ear-to-ear grin. “What did they say?” he adds, giggling.

 

“Mugwomp! Mugwomp!” squawks Nanna. They both laugh at the funny-sounding word.

 

“What does it mean, Nanna?” he questions, leaning back to rest his head on the pillow.

 

“I don’t know. But they were very friendly and extremely smart,” she responds. “These beautiful creatures helped the Jadenbu and Acaba overcome many of their fears. For example, over time, the quarlots brought food and medicinal herbs down into both villages from outside regions. The leaders saw this as a sign that the lands above were safe. Only then did they permit their hunters to follow the quarlots and retrieve needed resources. In time, the leaders recognized that everyone could travel beyond the boundaries of their hidden villages and return safely. In addition, quarlots’ beaks glowed so brightly that surrounding areas could be lit up at night to hunt or to reveal pending danger. A great friendship was established between the quarlots and both tribes.”

 

“Are quarlots still around, Nanna? I think they’d make great pets. I wouldn’t need a nightlight anymore!” he chuckles.

 

His grandmother laughs and says, “They may still be somewhere in western Evergreen, but you won’t find them here in Jaden. The Great Spirit created them especially for the Jadenbu and Acaba. They do sound wonderful, though. Feathered creatures that are as beautiful as they are friendly – and helpful, too. I’d love to see one someday.” Nanna Jaden takes a moment to consider the special birds. Then she continues with the story.

 

“The Great Spirit sent quarlots to the Jadenbu and Acaba for another reason, Niles. He knew that members of both tribes were superstitious. That means what they believed in and how they ran their lives each day were tied to a strong faith in things that were magical or supernatural and often without rational explanation. The glow of a quarlot’s beak, for example, was seen as being caused by the magic of the Great Spirit. Many people here in Jaden aren’t superstitious. Instead, they see a world of events explained only through the lens of science and natural laws,” states Nanna.

 

“Then how would they explain the glow in the quarlot’s beak?”

 

“I don’t know, Niles, but I’m sure there are a few scientists at the Scripps Science Center who would love to experiment on one to find out.”

 

“That doesn’t sound very pleasant, especially for the quarlot,” says Niles, with a concerned look. “So what was the other reason the Great Spirit sent the quarlots?”

 

“Oh, yes. Because they were so superstitious, the Great Spirit wanted to give the tribal leaders a means to ensure that the future of their people was bright and filled with hope. No disease, no famine – ”

 

“– and no humites?” interjects Niles.

 

“Yes, especially no humites,” she replies. “A short time before the first astral eclipse was to occur after the fall of Mesequoya, several quarlots brought special berries to both leaders. They were dark red and tasted like nothing they had ever eaten. The berries also had an odd, but temporary, effect on those who ate them. It made people dream with their eyes open, like they were still awake. These dreams would replace scared or anxious feelings with calm and peaceful ones.”

 

“Like the way Grandpa feels after a few of those drinks with tiny umbrellas in them?”

 

“Sort of,” chuckles Nanna. “Only these berries grew naturally on vines and were eaten.”

 

“‘Kay,” he responds.

 

“In the weeks that followed the discovery of the strange red berries, both leaders grew to like their newfound feelings. They introduced dream-state ceremonies in their personal daily rituals. The problem was that the quantity of berries brought by the quarlots decreased with each passing ceremony. As a result, the leaders of the Jadenbu and Acaba decided to do two things. First, they continued to limit participation in each ceremony to themselves and a few handpicked tribesmen. In doing so, they kept the berries and their peculiar effects a secret. Second, they decided to go out and find more of the special red berries.”

 

“Sounds like the Great Spirit was baiting the leaders, like Grandpa baits his fishing line,” says Niles astutely. “You know, to get them to go where the Great Spirit wants them to go.”

 

“Indeed it does,” replies Nanna, not too surprised at her five-year old grandson’s insight. She picks up where the story left off. “Word was spread among the Jadenbu and Acaba that their leaders and a few members selected from each tribe were going on a special journey. Both tribes were led to believe that a successful journey would bring eternal peace and security. The leaders then prepared for their long travel under the guidance of several quarlots. However, no one was prepared for what they were about to encounter.”

 

“The Great Spirit in the cave? The one that comes to life in the rocks, right?”

 

His grandmother pretends not to hear the question. “After four days of travel, the leaders and their handpicked tribesmen arrived at Evergreen’s southern shoreline. At the water’s edge, several quarlots flew across the bay to help the leaders identify the next leg of their journey. Off in the distance, the quarlots landed near a large cave entrance in the southern tip of the Grand Divide. On their return to the shoreline where the tribal leaders waited anxiously, the birds repeatedly referred to the entrance of the vast mountain chain as ‘Ontawa.’”

 

“Forbidden caves,” declares Niles in a monotone voice, eyes fixed, like he’s in a trance.

 

“The leaders of the Jadenbu and Acaba instructed the strongest among them to cut down a young redwood tree. Together, everyone worked hard to build canoes and paddles for passage across the bay. The next morning they continued their journey, now across choppy waters, in the direction shown by the quarlots. With each thrust of the oar, the tribal leaders grew even more excited. They believed that an endless supply of the special berries would be found inside the cave. They would simply fill their wicker baskets and head home,” Nanna says in a tone that suggests they were going to get far more than they expected.

 

“By the day’s end, they reached the cave’s large entrance. Though a thick fog blanketed the water’s surface, they were determined to paddle directly into the dark, unfamiliar territory. Even with torches lit, no one could see more than a few feet in any direction. The fog was too thick. The farther they traveled into the cave, the more they felt lost and helpless to find their way out. To help chart their course, the quarlots flew to points ahead and illuminated their beaks. The colorful lights served as beacons to navigate the canoes between scores of rocky islands and to avoid hitting the cave’s walls.”

 

“Those quarlots always knew just what to do,” remarks Niles. “I really like them.”

 

“Me too,” she replies warmly. “For quite some time in their journey into Ontawa, no one knew where they were headed, but the two leaders never gave up hope. They continued to follow the path set by the quarlots deep into the cave, slowly and cautiously paddling through the fog into the unknown with their eyes wide open. Finally, the beautiful birds came to rest on huge, ancient roots that jutted up from beneath a narrow, sandy stretch of shoreline. Just beyond the shoreline was a massive stone wall over one hundred feet tall with an unusual, tightly-packed rock formation – a pattern certainly found nowhere else in Ontawa.”

 

“You mean in the entire world, Nanna! Didn’t they get scared when they saw it?”

 

“Hmm. Well, once the tribesmen maneuvered the canoes between the small, rocky islands to reach the sandy shoreline where the quarlots were perched, I’m sure it didn’t take long for them to look up and notice something strange. But I think they were more tired from their long journey than frightened about the pattern on the wall’s stone surface. At least at first. After their long journey in the cave, members of both tribes were eager to stretch their legs. Once on shore, they walked around and inspected the large roots and strange plant life.”

 

“How’d they last?” he asks.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I’d go crazy sitting in a canoe for all that time. I can’t even stay still for a few minutes at my desk in school.” The thought makes Niles a little jumpy. He stretches his legs and bounces them up and down under the covers. “I’d have to do a few jumping jacks or something when I got out.”

 

Nanna Jaden smiles at his antics. “Maybe they took turns standing up in the canoes during their travels,” she says. “The quarlots didn’t have that problem, though, did they?”

 

“Nah, they had it made. Quarlots could fly anywhere, and they had lights built into their snouts to see where they were going.”

 

“It must have helped,” says Nanna, “because they were the first to find the vines with red berries. The two leaders were delighted! They had their wicker baskets filled to the brim with the special fruit. For the remainder of the evening, berries were plucked from the vines under the quarlots’ warm glow and torchlight. After all of the baskets were filled, members of both tribes placed their straw mats on the sand so they could rest until morning. At daybreak, the leaders planned to begin their long journey home,” says Nanna. Niles sits up in bed in anticipation of what is to follow.

 

“The next morning, as the light of the morning suns entered the watery caves from each entrance, a huge blast shot out from within the stone wall directly above the Jadenbu and Acaba. Members of both tribes awoke in shock. Quickly, they huddled close in fear of what would happen next. When the dust and rock settled, a deep and powerful voice spoke,” she says, in a foreboding manner. Nanna then clears her throat, lowers her brow and imitates the great stone figure.

 

 

“Are you really made out of rock?” inquires Niles, peering from beneath the covers.

 

“How dare this little flea interrupt the Golem,” snaps Nanna in the same deep, menacing voice. Niles flips the covers over his head and giggles. His grandmother resumes in character.

 

 

Puzzled, Niles interrupts his grandmother once again. “What is dominion, Nanna?”

 

“I figured you would get around to asking that question someday,” she replies. “Whenever one person or group of people controls or enslaves others, then dominion exists. The usual result is that the other people – the target of the control – are harmed in some way. The Golem doesn’t want to see this happen to animates of our world.”

 

“Don’t we have dominion here in Jaden?” asks Niles candidly. Nanna Jaden stares into her grandson’s eyes.

 

“We do, and a great deal of it.”

 

“‘Kay, now tell me what the Golem said next.”

 

His grandmother lowers her brow and continues to speak as the great stone figure.

 

“You must uphold these three virtues for all animates. You must maintain this path among your people. If these virtues are not followed, then I will reign no longer. I will disappear, never to awaken again. And you shall perish from this land!” adds Nanna in her best menacing voice. “Go now and deliver this message to your people. I will rest until Kaleija returns in one thousand years.”

 

A few seconds pass. From under the covers, Niles asks, “Is it safe?”

 

Nanna beams a warm smile and changes back to her normal voice. “Yes, little darling. The Golem is gone.”

 

“‘Kay,” quips Niles in a muffled voice.

 

“The leaders of the Jadenbu and Acaba did deliver this message to their people, Niles. They are our ancestors,” she states proudly. “Since this first encounter ten thousand years ago, every thousand years the leaders of the two tribes travel into Ontawa to receive the Golem’s message and pass it on to their people. Respect for the ancient ceremonial site is important. That is why it is forbidden to visit the cave any other time except during the coming of Kaleija and then only by tribal leaders and their chosen attendants.”

 

“That’s why they named it ‘Ontawa,’ right?” Niles concludes, emerging from the covers. “It’s only used for this reason.”

 

 

His grandmother nods and returns to the question Niles posed earlier. “The reason why your grandfather and other men in our family have always scoffed at what I just described has more to do with their need to look ahead at our city’s future than to look behind at our past, one rooted in a simple and very primitive way of life. I suppose it is easy for them to bury the past. Men in our family have largely forgotten about the concerns and responsibilities of our ancestors and no longer share our history prior to when Jaden was established. Your great grandmother, bless her heart, passed this story on to me when I was a child. She told me never to forget it. Mother also wanted me to keep the story a secret until I shared it with a special someone in our family,” says Nanna. “I did so first with your father.” She gently strokes the underside of Niles’ chin with her index finger. A few seconds pass. “And now with you,” she says with a slow wink. “Mother believed that one day our past would catch up to the present.”

 

 

Niles sits up in bed. It is easy to see the wheels turning in his head. “How could you keep something like this a secret?” he asks, agitated about what he’s learned. “Didn’t you even try to talk to Grandpa about it? I’d want to know why all of the secrecy. What did they have to hide?”

 

“I confronted your great grandfather, grandfather and many others more times than I can remember. I wanted to keep our heritage alive, like you do – and as your father did. When I did have them face up to it, they would say that it’s just a bunch of stories of a world long ago and far away from everyday life in Jaden. I’ve heard ‘It’s just not relevant’ more often than I care to hear. Well, it is relevant, Niles.”

 

 

“The Jadenbu and Acaba closely followed Golem’s rules for the past ten thousand years. I imagine they continue to do so,” she adds. “I wish we, in the City of Jaden, would follow in their footsteps, too.” Nanna pauses in a moment of reflection. “I suspect that the eldest son of the current leader of the Jadenbu – who may now be around your age – will meet with the Golem later this century when Kaleija returns. We don’t even call it ‘Kaleija.’ Instead, our scientists refer to it as a ‘millennial eclipse.’ You’ll be a grown man of fifty years when Kaleija takes place,” she says, looking into her grandson’s striking reddish-brown eyes. Because of her age, she is sad and envious at the same time. Nanna Jaden knows she won’t be with him for the historic, once-in-a-thousand-year event.

 

 

BOOM! PSHHH! A hot, deafening blast startles and overpowers Niles. The vivid memories he just experienced with his grandmother are interrupted by extreme pain and the heated rhythm of tribal chants he heard earlier. It has been more than twenty years since she perished in a tragic train accident. At the same time he feels the burns of steam and the sting of flying debris, he is also aware of his emotional pain. Niles had to end a nearly half-century-old visit with the one person he believes really cared about him and not his power or wealth. Overcome with grief amidst the noise and confusion, he turns his head into the source of the blast and shouts, “Purple, Nanna! The berries are purple!”

 

Now fully aware of the content of his dream and the reality before him, he looks up at the monstrous stone figure. At once, Niles’ eyes widen and his body shakes at the enormity of the sight. Where there once were many large shadows surrounded by immense jagged boulders, now there are four deep caverns with burnt orange centers and a flaming, reddish glow. Niles is immediately drawn to their glower, with one pair behind and below the other. They slowly motion from left to right and then peer down toward the natives kneeling and chanting feverishly along the shoreline. In the depths below the colossal stone figure’s eyes appear a massive formation with two irregularly-shaped openings from which wind ebbs and flows. Underneath, rows of long, angular rock begin to spread apart and release a tremendous gush of steam. Together, they move outward toward the natives producing a continuous ground-shaking rumble.

 

After a thousand years the Golem has awakened. It is about to speak.
 

_______________________________________________________

 
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