A New Challenge
The sun was almost at its zenith. Chiapos, his hand shielding the glare from the golden orb, felt a compulsive need to swallow. He was nervous, he was never so nervous in all of his life. Why had he announced that he was going to make this crazy journey? There had been many youths in the village in the last three generations that had opted not to embark on a Challenge. Of those that did, the routes that they chose were more a symbolic nod to the grand adventures of Rainwater's heraldic past than an actual recreation of the grueling and arduous treks made by their ancestors. But ever since he could remember, the great stories told in the evenings around the fires had stirred something primordial in him. It had always been his desire that when he came of age that he would actually pursue the Challenge. The authentic kind from the great ages of the past, not the cursory visit to the Tester's edge that seemed to be the only type that contemporary villagers chose if they even decided to go that far. Most Rainwatermen just preferred to stay at home.
The Challenge was becoming a relic of the past. The characters that peopled the Challengelore, the stories recited faithfully every night, were now long dead and only a handful of Rainwater's elders actually had memories of the living flesh of a true Challenger. Given the powerful inspirational tales that comprised the Challengelore, it was surprising that nobody in nearly a hundred years had chosen to embark upon a true Challenge of their own. To Chiapos, there was nothing more exciting than the idea of a grand tour of all of the land that was surrounded by the Great Endless Sea, all of the land known as Mallog’mor’ach. His fellow villagers had become complacent since Thedden, the last true Challenger, had completed his great saga over eighty years ago.
Chiapos, too, as he drew closer to the age of eighteen, had felt a growing inner complacency in not to take on the Challenge. He was plagued with questions about what point was there in exposing himself to possible danger. It really did not gain him anything. After the Challenge was completed, Challengers resumed the agrarian lifestyle of the rest of their brethren in Rainwater. They would not assume any preferred status within Rainwater, other than to hear the villagers recant their stories and adventures at the Evening Fires upon the silencing of the drums. But when four moons ago, it was announced that a female, Straye was her name, from the village had chosen to undertake a true Challenge, Chiapos was once again roused to allow his childhood dreams a chance to achieve their fruition in an adventure of his own.
He remembered quite clearly that sunny midday, when Straye packed with only the most meager of provisions, had stepped up to the huge drum that sat upon the knoll overlooking the natural amphitheater they called The Commons that served as the site of the Evening Fires. There had been apprehension on her face as she started to beat a new rhythm upon the drum, signifying that a Challenge was about to commence. The thumping and the ratta-tat-tat were a unique combination that had never been heard before by the village and she played through its pattern eleven times allowing her fellow villagers to be acquainted with its beat. On the twelfth phrasing, she suddenly stopped and walked away. She crossed the amphitheater through the assembled people, not making eye contact with anybody, until she reached the stream's edge that ran through the center of Rainwater. There, she turned and waved the elders a farewell. She disappeared over the hill with the knowledge that her new rhythm upon the drum would not be played again until she had returned which could be as much as a year or even more from now. Or possibly never again if misfortune would find her along the way.
With the approach of the gloaming, Chiapos was one of many of the village youth who were chosen to chase after Straye. If they caught her before she reached the bridge at Hangman's Gully, a seven-day journey, she would have to give up on her Challenge. It was a ritual that assured that only those that were truly physically qualified for the exhausting journey were permitted to embark on the fantastic adventure. At this bridge another test would await the would-be Challenger. There, a village elder would halt the adventurer and not permit crossing until he or she answered a very difficult riddle. If the Challenger could not answer the question, they would be returned to the village where they would never again get a chance at taking on the Challenge. This question was to assure that only those mentally qualified would be permitted the opportunity to be immortalized in the stories of the Challengelore.
Chiapos brought his hand down from his face. The sun was only minutes away from achieving its fullest height for the day. At that moment, he would have to improvise a new assemblage of thumps upon the huge drum. He had given considerable thought to the type of sonic mosaic he would weave upon the drum for some time. He was not known for being a very rhythmic person, he was often chastised for being out of time with the others during the seasonal dancing festivals in the village. Then again, so was Straye. Maybe anybody who accepted the calling of a Challenge was out of step with the rest of Rainwater. Maybe the Challengelore was nothing more than a celebration of the village's musically challenged iconoclasts.
Straye and her family were always out of step with the mainstream of Rainwater. They were not well liked. Chiapos could remember quite clearly the emotional atmosphere of the chasing party that wanted to catch her before she reached Hangman's Gully. The rest of the party desperately wanted to intercept her. They did not want her to achieve any glory. They belittled her and mocked her and called her many rude names. When they finally caught sight of her at the edge of the rope-bridge at Hangman's Gully, they made a feverish attempt to actually apprehend her. But the young woman was able to answer the question posed to her by the village elder and she was able to cross the bridge just as the first of the chasing party, Haften, was reaching out an angry hand to take hold of the shift that she wore. Haften's fingers had a clutch of the cloth and was beginning to pull her back from the bridge when the village elder, Mihec, brushed the youth’s hand away and told him that the woman has qualified.
This caused the disgruntled Haften to crow at Straye, "You will never make it back!"
The last thing Chiapos remembered of the young woman was her brave attempt to hold back the tears that were welling in her eyes. Challenges, and in particular their beginnings, were supposed to be cheerful occasions that would inspire the entire village. Straye’s had already been marred by bad feeling. Chiapos could only hope that this did not have any sinister foreshadowing for the brave young lady.
He wondered if such animosity would be waiting for him. His family had a better standing in the village than did Straye's and he had never been the victim of ostracization the way that she had been. It was rather doubtful that the other young people in Rainwater would treat him as maliciously but they were quite surprised when he announced his own intentions to take on the Challenge.
Haften, who had been a close friend, from the outset had voiced his disapproval to him. The youth believed that going out on the adventure was irresponsible because the Challenger would be shirking any chores that normally would have been done by him or her as the case may be. Other young people in the village joined Haften’s lead saying that one day when they were all elders themselves that they would find more interesting ways to fill Rainwater evenings than to sit around and listen to the same old stories time and again. They believed that the tales in the Challengelore were probably more fiction than fact.
Chiapos did not know how to answer them back then when he declared his intentions and he still did not know how to answer them now. He had made up his mind, he was going to do this no matter what his peers thought. The pursuit of lofty dreams would always be a noble cause in his heart.
The sun was now directly overhead. His hands felt cold and clammy from all of the tension that he was experiencing. It was now or never. He could walk away from the drum and after a few days all would have been forgotten concerning this episode. Nobody would ever question his decision not to go. Many have walked away in the past and were not shamed by displaying their indecision and fear. He could walk away. He should walk away.
He was very aware of his fellow villagers who had taken time away from their daily routines and lunches to watch this almost extinct ritual that a Challenger performs prior to his departure. He could feel their eyes watching every movement in his body. The raising of his arm to an involuntary twitch of his cheek would not go by unobserved. They were sensing his wavering spirit but they remained silent. Almost everybody would rather seem him stay than go. But none tried to goad him with their perspective. The decision had to be his alone.
His hands started beating a pulse upon the stretched buffalo skin that covered the huge cylindrical wooden barrel lying on its side. His concentration went to the rhythm that he was creating. The crowd massed before him no longer impinged upon his thoughts. He had to remember the sequence of beats that he just created so that he could repeat them in the next stanza. His mind pictured each beat as an element of the journey that he was about to take. Hangman's Gully, the Tester, the Prairies, Tanejul and beyond. Hangman's Gully, the Tester, the Prairies, Tanejul and beyond. Hangman's Gully, the Tester, the Prairies, Tanejul and beyond. The rhythm was established. He repeated it eleven times and on the twelfth cycle he stopped at the phrase 'and beyond'.
Chiapos, son of Chakka and Lepti of the village of Rainwater, turned around. His mind was focused. He did not see his friends and family and the village elders as they swarmed him as he crossed The Commons. He had accepted the ancient calling of the Challenge. If successful, his name would be remembered along with the great names of the past. His sandalled feet immersed into the nameless stream of the village and as he got to the other side, his hand rose in the air and he waved a farewell to Rainwater. It didn't occur to him then that it would be a very, very long time before he would ever see it again and that it would never be the same as he saw it now.
Hangman’s Gully
A silent moment.
There hadn't been too many of these, these past days. The journey to this point, although short as compared to what his illustrious forefathers had trekked in previous centuries, had been longer than anything that he accomplished before. Chiapos had expected it to be filled with only the sounds of the wind and the birds as he followed the ancient trail. His father never spoke of any of the hundreds of other wayfarers and merchants from other villages that he would pass along the way. They were fellow travelers seeking the commerce that the road offered. He was stopped many a time by these vagabonding merchants and shown all manner of trinket and artifact for procurement. He carried nothing that he could use as barter nor was he interested in any of the material shown him. His provisions were sparse but to augment it with some of these goods would only serve to slow him down and give the chasing party a chance to catch up.
But now he was at last alone. He was no longer on the Old Merchant's Road and he knew that he did not have to contend with the barterers any more. He was now on the trail that led to Hangman's Gully, a dark gloomy trail that sliced through the bush, a trail that was known for its clouds of annoying, biting insects. Luckily, Chiapos had started his Challenge shortly after the fall equinox. The mosquitoes and flies were not as bad at this time of year. Poor Straye had left at the height of insect season, and as Chiapos slapped continuously at his skin to brush away the ravenous bugs that still remained, he felt very sorry for her. What she had to endure must have been maddening. Her chasing party, one that he was a member of, had not chosen this forested route to Hangman's Gully when they were in pursuit of her. They had stayed clear of this forsaken yet verdant region and had stuck to the open, breezy steppes that offered a less grueling route to the bridge over the wide and deep ravine.
He walked all through the night, he did not want to be caught by his chasing party. He wondered if Haften and the others would have opted for the open country like they had done during Straye's journey. The forested trail was a swifter route than the steppe lands and given the season of the year, Chiapos was sure that the party was on his tracks. Haften would know that he would be trying to make it to the bridge as quickly as possible and that he would make use of certain shortcuts and tricks to be sure that he would beat them there. Namely, Haften would know that he would forgo a night of sleep and a repast now and then to increase his speed. Haften would press the others in the party to go on but he was in all likelihood to meet fervent opposition from them. Rainwatermen liked to sleep. During the nightly recitals of the Challengelore, it was not uncommon to see many of the younger people either fighting their eyeballs to stay awake or to be completely nodded off in a peaceful slumber.
Chiapos was hoping that this sleepiness was overtaking the party. In the cool autumn night air along the trail nothing was disturbing the silence. It didn't seem like the party was close to him at all and that he might reach Hangman’s Gully unchallenged.
With the morning, the forested trail soon gave way to an open breech of sedimented sandstone that climbed sharply upwards. He knew that he was close to his goal. On the other side of these uplands was Hangman's Gully. He had walked the entire night and even though he was feeling rather on the sleepy side, he still had ample energy to continue. Looking behind him at the trail that he had made during the night through the dank, miserable woods, he saw no evidence that anybody was approaching him. They had probably slept the night away and now he had given himself an extra eight hours of lead-time that he felt might be insurmountable. He doubted that anybody could catch him now.
As he reached the top of the shale uplands and caught a glimpse of the deep, ugly gash in the land called Hangman's Gully, he could see the wooden half-rotted planks that made up the footbridge gleam in the sun. They seemed not very intimidating until he was able to see the vertiginous depression beneath them. One false or misplaced step and there would be a terrifying drop of hundreds of screaming feet to the jagged rocks below. He never liked heights and the thought of crossing that flimsy bridge seemed quite daunting to him. On his side of the bridge, Chiapos could espy the sleeping forms of two people. He assumed that it must be the village elders, Mihec and his wife Whendi, playing out the role of Protectors of the Bridge.
The youth wondered what question or questions the Protectors had concocted for him to answer to purchase his safe crossing to the other side of the bridge. If the subject matter was the Challengelore, Chiapos felt comfortable that he would know the answers. Nobody in his generation was more expert on the many, many tales that comprised this great body of Rainwater oral history. But if it was to be on some other topic or topics, the young villager did not have very much confidence that he would be equal to the questions. He was not well versed in the day-to-day knowledge of life in Rainwater. He had been whimsical and not practical. There was no use in fretting about the questions now. The questions have been chosen and if he could answer them or not was already determined. It was all a matter of fate at this point.
He began the downward descent down the smooth face of shale that led to the bridge. The footing was not very tenable but he had convinced himself that he had plenty of time to reach the bridge. Nobody was racing up on his back. So Chiapos chose each step carefully and gingerly and gradually made his way down the slope toward the Protectors and the bridge. As he drew nigh upon the landing where the rope-bridge was secured, he could see Mihec wake up from his slumber and watch him come down the hill. The other figure was still sleeping.
For some strange reason, the Rainwater Elder held his finger to his lips indicating that Chiapos should be as quiet as possible in his approach. Not understanding the reasoning other than possibly the old man's wife wished to still sleep, Chiapos complied and was as silent as he could be as he slipped the last few feet to the landing of the bridge at Hangman's Gully.
Mihec greeted him with an extended hand. "You have made remarkably swift time, Lad" he whispered. "I didn't expect you until sometime in the evening."
"I did not bother with stopping for sleep last night." Chiapos whispered back, looking at the slumbering form behind Mihec. The person was completely covered by a blanket concealing her actual identity from view. Chiapos assumed that it had to be Whendi.
"Are you ready for your question?" the Protector of the Bridge asked.
"I am as ready as I will ever be" a nervous Chiapos responded. He prayed that he would know the answer. After tasting the adventure of travelling these past few days, his heart was very set on taking on the Challenge.
Mihec cleared his throat. "As Protector of the Bridge I cannot let no man pass that does not know how many nights pass between two full faces of the Moon. Do you know the answer, Challenger?"
It was a remarkably easy question but a question that had taken Chiapos off of his guard. He had not expected such a query and a ready answer did not spring to his lips. "How many nights between two full faces of the Moon? That is the question that I must answer?"
"That is the question." Mihec concurred. "Do you have the answer?"
Chiapos started counting the nights in his mind but a night is such an intangible object to count and he kept losing his tally.
"You must answer very shortly or else I would have to judge that you do not have the necessary qualifications to embark upon a Challenge" the Protector warned.
Upon hearing the word ‘Challenge’, the Challengelore sprang to the young man's mind. He instinctively knew that the answer could be found somewhere in the legendary tales. At once a reference from the stories surfaced to his mind. It was from the Challenge of Bulger, six hundred years before. Bulger was faced with the dilemma of having to cross the Field of Thorns and it had taken him exactly twenty-eight days to make the excruciatingly painful trek through the sharp needled brush that stood in the shadow of the Fire Mountains. It had been a full face of the Moon when he started and it was a full face of the Moon when torn and bleeding, the ancient Challenger had finally passed clear the nightmarish vegetation.
"Your time is ..." a disappointed Mihec started to say.
Before the Protector could reach the word 'up', Chiapos proclaimed loudly, "Twenty-eight!"
"Well done!" Mihec whispered sharply, pointing at the sleeping person. "Now be off with you, quickly and quietly before it is too late."
"It is too late!" the sleeping person announced loudly in a blatant male's voice. It was not Whendi, Mihec’s wife beneath the burlap cover. The blanket was thrown off and there between the entrance to the bridge and Chiapos, stood the leader of the chase party, Haften.
"Haften!" Chiapos cried, feeling his heart sink low into his abdomen. "How did you get here before me?" he stammered. Running through his head was the depressing thought that his Challenge was over. It was void. The Chasing Party had beaten him to Hangman’s Gully!
The leader of the Chasing Party had mischief in his eyes as he pointed at something in a clearing on the dusty path near his feet. When Chiapos looked at it he could see the hoven shape of a buffalo's track.
"That my friend, was made by a Comptode Buffalo!" Haften declared boastfully.
"How did you get a Comptode Buffalo? There are none in the village." Chiapos was aghast. He could not believe it still. He had been beat to the bridge by his former friend. His dream of a Challenge was over.
"A very wise procurement that I made along the Old Merchant Road!” his friend laughed.
"Is this permitted?" Chiapos cried to Mihec. "Isn't this a violation of the rules? Isn’t this cheating?"
"There are no rules governing what means a chasing party can employ to their benefit to reach the bridge, my friend." Haften answered before Mihec could speak.
"Is that so?" Chiapos directed his question directly at the Protector of the Bridge, not permitting the young Rainwaterman to answer in his stead.
Mihec sighed. "I'm afraid that Haften is right, although I don't agree with it. That is why I tried to keep you as quiet as possible, Chiapos, before you stepped upon the bridge. I didn’t want you waking up this spoilsport for I knew he would ruin everything for you. In all of the Challengelore there is very little mentioned about the rules governing the chasing party and in the absence of rules, I am afraid that anything goes."
Chiapos forlornly had to accept the judgement. Mihec, as the presiding elder of Rainwater, was considered to be the leading authority on the Challengelore and any ruling to be made had to go through him.
"I'm afraid that your Challenge is over, Chiapos." Haften said, patting his friend on the back. "Come, let's make haste back to the village. I am really tired of this stale, crumbly waybread. That’s been our only fare this past week. If you ask me I would never give up a good homecooked Rainwater meal for the paltry crumbs that a Challenger is expected to eat on his journey. You look half starved already Chiapos. A bit of food will do you good."
"I could go without food or drink or sleep or breathing for that matter if it means that I can continue on a Challenge." Chiapos groaned. It seemed incomprehensible to him that he had to give up on his dream just because someone who knew how to take shortcuts and bend rules beat him to Hangman’s Gully.
"You'll soon forget this entire affair once you are back in the village." Mihec tried to console him.
"How can I forget when every night I will be reminded that I was not one of the chosen when we are forced to listen to the tales? They will only serve to let me know that I was not good enough to be one of them. I can hardly wait until Haften and I become old like you. We will make sure that the Challengelore will never be recited again." Chiapos said scornfully to the Elder.
Haften turned to Mihec. "I never said anything like that! To me there is nothing more exhilarating than listening to the adventures of our ancestors and our forefathers. I don't know where Chiapos ever got this idea that I don’t like the stories!"
Mihec smirked. "I know you too well Haften. I know the ideas in your head for I had the same notions in my youth. In time, you will come to understand that there is nothing more fulfilling than a good story and that we Rainwatermen are very fortunate to have so many inspiring tales for our convenience and entertainment. The people of the other villages to me are impoverished because they don’t have any stories of their own past that they can pass on through the ages.”
Turning to the failed would-be Challenger, the Protector said, "You are disappointed now, Chiapos. But know this! Time will gradually fade your memory of this moment. You will once again come to be inspired by our history when you come to an understanding that it is not the individual Challenger that is the hero of a tale but rather it is the spirit of the village that is the champion of all of the stories. We cannot place a face on any one Challenger. Bulger to us is a name as is Thedden. We know nothing really about the actual character of the person, not even what they may have looked like. All we know is that they were Rainwatermen and from that fact alone we draw our pride in being Rainwatermen as well!"
Upon hearing the name Thedden, Chiapos suddenly was aware of something he remembered the last great Challenger had said one night shortly before he died and ending a living memory of an actual Challenge. Chiapos was barely out of his swaddling clothes when the old, old man had said when recounting his own story, "If the Chasing Party were permitted to be abetted with the aid found along the trail, then I doubt seriously that I would have made it past the bridge. The whole philosophy behind the Chasing Party is to pit one man or woman against the many. A Challenger cannot employ anything other than his own legs and his own drive as he or she races to the gully nor should the Chasing Party. If the Chasing Party was allowed the luxury of using what ever means available to them, then I am afraid that no Rainwaterman could ever embark on a Challenge."
It was an obscure reference but one that the young Chiapos clearly remembered. They were the words of an actual Challenger and thus clearly to be considered a part of the Challengelore. Chiapos quoted to Mihec what Thedden had said all those years ago.
Mihec nodded quietly. "I must be growing old because I just about forgot that passage. But you are right, Chiapos, Thedden did say that. What a remarkable memory you have, young man! Or should I say, young Challenger!"
"What?" Haften cried. "I don't remember Thedden saying that at all. I was there too!"
"He said it and that is that!" Mihec retorted. "Your mind is too occupied with schemes for shortcuts that it does not have any space left over to actually listen. Chiapos has clearly qualified to be permitted a chance to enter the fellowship of the Challenge. Now, step out of his way and let him cross the bridge."
Suddenly, an eerie feeling overwhelmed the young Rainwaterman when he heard Mihec utter the phrase 'fellowship of the Challenge'. It was an awesome privilege but one that was not completely glorious. The Challenge had proven time and time again to be a very dangerous exploit and a return to Rainwater was never guaranteed for any Challenger. He was to set out on an adventure whose purpose and whose ending would only be revealed with time.
"May the Mammoth oversee your path, young Challenger," Mihec said, as a very cautious Chiapos stepped past him and onto the wavering, treacherous rope-bridge over Hangman's Gully. He tried not to look down and kept his focus on the other end of the bridge a hundred yards away. Remembering how Haften had reacted when Straye had started out on her fording, he was half expecting the disgruntled leader of the Chasing Party to grab hold of his shift and haul him back as well. But when he was several yards out onto the bridge, he knew that he was beyond Haften's reach.
He turned around and looked at the old Rainwaterman and the young Rainwaterman. This would be the last time he would see any of his own kind for a long, long time. Haften must have been reading his thoughts for he said, "Chiapos, I am proud of you. Remember me when you return as a glorious and celebrated Challenger."
"Don’t worry, I will remember you, my friend. By the way, what happened to the buffalo that you bought?"
"Oh, he ran away across the bridge as soon as I got off of his back. Maybe you will see him on your travels." Haften smiled, while waving his farewell. “No bad feelings?”
The neophyte Challenger returned the fond expression. “No bad feelings. You were only doing what the Challenge requires.”
Chiapos turned and placed his attention upon the bridge. It was more easily forded than he had thought it would be. On the other side, he started to scale a cliff that was similar to the shale one that he had descended earlier on the Rainwater side. Once he reached the top and turned to have one last look at Hangman's Gully, he could see that both Mihec and Haften had disappeared. They were on their way back to the village. Chiapos wondered how long it would be before he would be on his way back to Rainwater.
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