Autumn Festival
===============


The train looked old and tired as it sat there at the platform, disgorging passengers by the hundred. Children with bright eyes, waving toys; their blase parents; elderly couples confused in the crowd; groups of teenagers with oversized luggage. People who looked like they could afford better, yet chose to travel like everyone else.

One such passenger attracted curious looks: a young man in sweatpants and a hoodie, mid-length hair held in a braided cord. He had a wrought iron pendant on a chain around the neck, and from his trekking pole dangled charms: strips of shiny, colorful card stock with acronyms imprinted on them in a flowing script. For a while he stood looking around, from the mountains rising across the tracks to the east, to the terminal decorated with banners that almost obscured a simple blue plate with only one word on it: Saiyana.

The young man shouldered a floppy satchel and headed towards the exit, boots clomping on the pavement.

Outside, people were scattering to seek out the little serpentine roads that headed up into town. Few others braved the steep stairs right in front of the train station, climbing a terraced wall made of stone from ages past. It emerged on relatively flat terrain across the street from a public park, which the pilgrim set out to cross, weaving his way among the mid-morning crowd. Weather was still warm, but turning towards autumn; dead leaves littered alleys and filled long-dead fountains. Children and doves loved it, at least.

Near the other end of the park, in the shadow of trees, a small group sat around a table. They waved at him as he came near.

"Well met, brother," one of them said loudly. "Come, sit with us."

He examined them more carefully: dressed in shirts, slacks and shoes, except with small capes worn over one shoulder, clasped with pendants like his own, bundles of charms worn on the belt or attached to backpacks. There were half a dozen or so, some younger than him, some older.

"What's your name?" asked the girl to his right. The one to his left added, "What will you have?"

"Mika," he said. "I'd like a light beer. How much is it?"

"We'll pay for it. Least we can do. Milena, by the way."

The blonde girl with horned-rimmed glasses on Mika's right looked more closely at his gaunt, sunburnt face. "I'm Anima. We're from the capital. You come from far away?"

"All the way from Altuz."

"Never heard of Altuz." Milena rubbed her chin. She had big cheeks, and strong arms. "Where is it?"

"Of course you did," one of the boys called from across the table. "It's near the seaboard. We passed through a few years ago on the way to the summer festival in..."

Mika didn't hear the rest of the answer. A procession was coming down the street: in a two-horse carriage with lacquered paneling rode a lady in a black frilly dress, with matching umbrella to protect her from the autumn sun. A man in white, rows of brass buttons up and down his jacket, sat opposite her, and two others stood on a small platform around the back of the vehicle, tall caps visible from afar. More rode behind the carriage on bicycles, acting every bit as dignified as their counterparts. Some onlookers cheered and waved; those in the coach answered in kind, while other passers-by appeared puzzled.

"Drink your beer, it's getting warm," Milena reminded him. Mika did so. "Cheers."

"Cheers," echoed Anima. "So, what level are you?"

"We don't really use levels." To her puzzled look, he explained quickly. "It's a small chapter, basically just the two of us and Teacher Nottep."

"Don't you want to know how you rank?" asked the boy sitting just past Anima. He also had glasses, as round as his face.

Mika passed a finger along the lines of his pendant. It was in the shape of an infinity symbol inside a circle, all made from a single strand that crossed itself several times. Crudely made as well, not like theirs. "Do I have to?"

"I suppose not." Milena took a swig from her drink.

"But if you want to," added Anima, "We're going to the temple later to pay respects. Why not tag along? You can get help there."

---

The temple was further down main street, hidden behind old trees in the space between tall, wide buildings. Ionic columns supported a frieze before the entrance, all painted off-white; the front yard had benches, and a small fountain that actually worked. Inside, ceiling arches directed the eye towards the rotunda at the far end; at either hand, looking around columns revealed small alcoves that each contained a writing desk. Mika stayed behind while his new friends took turns bowing over a lectern. Through an open window off to the side came the sound of voices.

"We are born as remixes of our parents. We all learn through copying at first. It is via copies that our life's work is preserved, because no original can last forever."

He barely noticed when they filed back out. Anima came last.

"Go on," she said. "Don't be shy."

Light fell on the lectern from all around, filtered through stained glass. On it awaited a sturdy book, bound with a chain that looped around, ending in a pen. He turned to a blank page and carefully wrote down a few lines, awkwardly holding open a notepad taken out of his satchel, only stopping when he noticed somebody watching.

The woman was tall, and standing very straight. Her cape, worn over both shoulders, was bright blue, not gray or brown like most, and underneath she had a proper smock, buttoned all the way down.

"You're not of the Order," she asked kindly, "or are you?"

"Ah... I don't really know, ma'am."

"You carry yourself like one of us, and know proper behavior." She paused. "I suppose we each practice in our own way. Do you help people who come to you?"

"To the best of my ability. It's a modest shrine."

She nodded with a faint smile. "Go. Enjoy the festivities. Bring the fun back home."

"Yes, ma'am." He turned to leave, then remembered something and picked a charm out of his bundle to leave between two pages of the book, where his handwriting now lay.

No-one was waiting for him in the front yard when he got out. Oh well, it was a small town, and everyone was there for the same reason.

---

He sat on a bench on the street corner to eat the last sandwich from his satchel, watching people across the plaza get lunch at open air tables. Traffic ebbed and flowed: locals pulling small carts, on foot or pedaling; sightseers like himself; then the festival goers, with their vertical banners attached to long poles, and carrying musical instruments. Many tried to dress in black or white.

It wasn't hard to figure out which way they were going: first up a side street lined by two-story houses with shops on the ground floor, then between miniature forts as the climb grew steeper. Foot traffic soon thinned and scattered along the way, but to Mika's surprise the next plateau wasn't so far. Just as it seemed to get harder, the road leveled out and made a loop in front of another stone wall surrounding a small compound. Conical spires could be seen inside, mimicking majestic mountaintops in the background. Small groups of travelers stood outside the closed gate. One such group looked familiar.

"Over here!" called Milena, waving at him.

"There you are," answered Mika. "What happened?"

"We were hoping to see the monastery as well," explained Anima, "but it's closed for visitation."

"Aren't you here for the festival?"

"Good point. Let's go already!" exclaimed the bespectacled boy. He looked for approval at another young man, taller by a head, wearing a dark green cape trimmed with silver.

"You're right," confirmed the latter, and took the lead, big hair bouncing around a rustic headband much like Mika's.

Not far from there, another road left town entirely to climb the mountainside through the forest. A nicely paved road, with railings and lamp posts. Booths lined the rock face, chock-full of wares. Toys that crawled, bounced or took flight. Games of carved wood; others that lit up and sang. Sweets without name, and clothes from distant lands. Countless voices of buyers and sellers haggling. Mika almost didn't notice when one of his new friends fell behind.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "Er, I didn't get your name."

The boy pulled his glasses back up, huffing and puffing. "Zegen. Is it much further? I'll never make it to the top at this pace."

"Yes, you can! Just put one foot in front of the other. Focus on your next step. Then the one after that."

Zegen looked skeptical, but after a while his breath became regular, flushed face taking on a more subdued shade. "Thank you."

"With pleasure." Mika started walking faster, then slowed down again. "Say, aren't you kind of young for the Order?"

"I'm eighteen as of last month. Been training for the past couple of years. And you?"

"Gonna be twenty-two soon." Mika pondered. "Grew up around a shrine or other my whole childhood. Then one day there weren't any more left."

"Ooh! Is that why you're not really ordained?" Zegen's grin faded. "Sorry."

"Why does it matter so much?! Come on, let's catch up with the others."

---

Not much farther, the road leveled out again, just before a bridge with sculpted flower motifs along both sides. Water flowed noisily at the bottom of its deep bed. Another bend, then the trees opened, earlier glimpses of their destination making room for a grand vista.

A fairy tale castle rose from the top of a grassy knoll, like a natural extension of the pine trees growing on either side, before not so distant peaks. Visitors paused to point and gaze; a few even sat down and took out sketchpads. The young pilgrims soon moved on, first past a cluster of smaller buildings in the same style, then around another bend and up to the castle. It too was closed for visitation, but on that day the main attraction was in the courtyard, a maze of marble stairs and balconies lined with statues and flower beds. Tables were set all over, covered in books and art for sale; somewhere, music played. Guards stood around in their contrasting uniforms, each carrying a fancy staff. In front of a side entrance, women in black or white frilly dresses, with stark makeup, moved around posing in front of bulky telescoping boxes on tripods. Among them, Mika recognized the one from the carriage.

"Aren't you going to buy anything?" asked Anima behind him.

He counted his money before selecting a couple of charms for his bundle, and a pen as nice as it was cheap. She watched from the corner of her eye while stuffing book after book into her backpack.

"I don't suppose we can come back later," Mika said hesitantly.

"Doubt it," quipped Milena, making her way through the crowd. Her bag also looked heavier. "Vendors will probably pack up soon so they can eat and go to the toilet."

"Good!" called Zegen, leaning over the railing above them. "I'm hungry."

In one of those buildings below the castle, down a dark flight of stairs, lurked a tavern. Merry laughter mixed with the sounds of beer poured into steins, on the backdrop of countless voices. It smelled of food, and smoke. Somewhere, people swayed to the sound of guitars and tambourines.

Mika looked up from his meager meal to the rest of the group. They chatted loudly, about things he'd vaguely heard about, and he just listened for a while. Then, "So is this it?"

Zegen cast him a puzzled look. "What? No way!"

"The main event will be in town, later tonight," explained Milena. "But up here it's more scenic."

"Do you have a place to stay until then?" asked Anima.

Mika nodded. "I have a reservation at the Wolf's Den."

"Where is that?" asked Zegen.

"No idea." Mika shrugged and went back to polishing his plate.

---

It turned out to be an inn, up a side street close to the town center. The view from the room was all greenery and crags. He set his clothes near the open window to air while he lay down for a moment, listening to birds argue. Sleep must have come and gone unnoticed, because the sun had covered a good distance in the sky.

The wind had picked up, making air cooler. Mika retraced his earlier steps, first to scout out the location on his festival pass, then farther out. From across the street, it was hard to spot the temple again. There was more to the town; he stopped on a corner where a big square hole in the ground collected water and worse at the bottom. Westward, steel masts of unclear purpose marked the way up impassable slopes.

He sat on a different bench on the way back, this time near a wellspring, while children played noisily in a neighboring courtyard. Then, as the sun dipped behind summits, the pilgrim headed to the grand hall where festivities were to continue.

Countless lights reflected off a high polished ceiling. Banners flew everywhere, with fire motifs adorning strips of white or black fabric. Tables and shelves lined the walls, laden with beauty and color. Jugglers and stage magicians performed in the middle of foot traffic, while fake flames danced up and down columns. This time Mika obtained a handful of zines, and free booklets from the bigger vendors. More than once he ran into his new friends as they circled the hall, but parted ways again.

Opposite the entrance stood a dais. People gradually stopped to watch as a small orchestra set up shop. Music brought out previously unnoticed dancers. Women in black paired with men in white, and the other way around, swirling across the dance floor in complex patterns. After a while they started swapping partners, until it seemed that everyone was dancing with everyone else. The orchestra went through several tunes, with only brief pauses until the very end. Then, as a haunting melody rose up, another dancing pair joined the fray, sweeping through like embraced whirlwinds. One by one, the others moved aside to make room. At long last the spectacle came to an end; both dancers greeted the crowd, while a master of ceremonies thanked the prince and princess for their patronage of the festival. It was met with thunderous applause.

As musicians carted their instruments away, Mika noticed some other guests walking through a guarded doorway behind the dais. He followed curiously into a smaller room where buffet tables had been set up. People pushed and shoved, the most well dressed piling their plates so full they overflowed. The pilgrim stayed back, resigned, but there were still leftovers by the time most others trickled out again. Only two remained aside from him.

"Make sure to eat something," said the man, undoing a brass button or three from his jacket. "You must be starving."

"Verily," confirmed the woman, "but I've got to be careful with this dress."

He nodded, collecting snacks for her. "Do you think this day was a success, Mads?"

"What's bothering you, Alex?"

"Just wondering if there's going to be another festival next year."

She shrugged. "Does it matter? We've done pretty well already for two characters created to sell home improvements at fairs."

That's when the royal couple noticed Mika staring.

"Is everything alright?" the princess asked with genuine concern. "You look like your entire world came crashing down."

"Ah... It's nothing, Your Highness." The pilgrim turned to leave. "Sorry."

"Wait, please," the prince said in a hurry. "This may sound weird, but... are you a Keeper of Knowledge, or just cosplaying?"

Mika froze. "Er, kind of? I mean, we have a real shrine, and a teacher."

"That's so cool!" exclaimed the princess. "To think one day people will remember our work thanks to you!"

"Is there anything we can do?" asked the prince.

"Y-yeah. Can I have your autographs?"

"Of course!"

He offered his old notebook and new pen. They wrote down sweet, thoughtful words, while the grand hall next door was growing quiet and lights went out one by one.

The town was still awake by the time Mika made his way to the inn, but he hardly noticed the partying while going down the street in a daze.

"Yes!" he said to no-one in particular. "One million XP!"

---

The cave went on and on, tunnels splitting off then rejoining with no rhyme or reason, but he couldn't stop to get his bearings or pick his path. The lava flow was always right behind, forcing him onward. Into the darkness he ran, for how long there was no telling, yet he never felt tired. Still the lava came, filling every crevice, its fiery breath sending drops of sweat to roll down his neck. It spilled from side tunnels, cutting off his hopes. When he spotted the orange glow through an opening ahead of him, the race was over.

Or not? A boulder filled the narrow end of the tunnel. He willed it to move, and move it did, haltingly at first, then rumbling past him to wedge itself into the opening.

In the cave it was suddenly very dark, yet somehow he could still see that the tunnel continued where the boulder had been, but for a yawning chasm at his feet. Again he directed his will to lift himself into the air and float to the other side. The force holding him aloft faltered short of the destination, but he grabbed the edge and hoisted himself up. Another sprint, and he emerged through the clenched teeth of the earth into the temple's front yard. Skies were red, the land an expanse of broken rock as far as the eye could see, and fiery winds played a haunting melody.

Mika bolted awake, throwing off his blanket, and let predawn light guide him to the sink. At some point, the clock on the nightstand started ringing, and he reached over to silence the alarm. Thin walls reassured that he wasn't the only one.

Still few people walked the train station at such early hours. He lingered briefly to gaze at the terminal's stucco and vaulted ceiling. There was so much to see, and not enough light yet. All too close, a klaxon urged him out onto the platform; he would have to come back some other time. Someday for sure.

THE END

Felix Pleşoianu, 18 August 2022