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They departed Nonia, six young people on a journey to the unknown. The road would be long, but they were prepared. The Duc had warned them to avoid traveling at night and to tell no one that they were looking for Scarface—this information could put their mission in danger.
They relied on the suns to guide them to Midway. The town was located beneath the point where the four joined together. They would recognize it because it would be completely surrounded by water, crowned by a moving and temperamental border.
The fair at Midway was a big gathering place, crowds of inhabitants from every land came there, and the six companions would have no problem finding someone to help them if they got lost. Nevertheless, the Duc had warned them to not act too friendly with people that they met. Enemies, pretending to be merchants, could be on the lookout for them. The Duc had lectured them on prudence. But he hadn’t explained the best way to get to Midway.
They departed just before the suns celebrated their reunion. There was only one road crossing through Nonia, so they had to take it. They set off in order of importance that they attributed to themselves. Albin was in the lead with Aidan right on his heels. Sara walked beside Aidan, followed by Cosmo, then Arthur and Titiana who walked to each other but not side by side. Each lost in thought except for Aidan and Sara who chatted with each other while walking. They imagined everything there could be on Lalea, taking turns coming up with the creepiest, goriest scenarios. Cosmo listened closely to their conversation, and what bothered him the most was that there might be some truth to their most creative, hairball ideas. Up to this point, Lalea hadn’t appeared very different from anything they knew, but he had a strong feeling that it was just a respite before the battle that would force their senses to surrender to the unbelievable. Sometimes, what we imagine isn’t worse than reality.
They were wandering with their dreams through deserted lands resembling an artist’s minimally sketched prairies reproduced multiple times, when suddenly the light changed the sky to a darker blue, and the air became charged with what in their world would be electricity. Without warning, the suns retired as a storm announced its arrival. In seconds, the horizon turned dark, and the grass was swept flat by strong winds with a frenzied energy of freed stallions. Flashing bolts provided the only light. They had no place to seek shelter on the flat road, and their clothes were soaked from the humidity even though it hadn’t started raining. Clothes, fluttering like kites, torn up by the wind trying to carry them away. Windstorms don’t appreciate solitude.
They lay flat against the ground, lessening the odds of being pried away. They tried to make their bodies more aerodynamic against the wind that rushed over them and seeped into their skin until they were freezing. They heard whistling in their ears as their clothes ballooned out like deformed humps before slapping their cold wetness against them. The road was a river, the prairies were fields, and then it was just rain. Drops turned into hailstones with sharp points that pummeled them, covering them with bruises that would last for several days afterwards. The air was so laden with water that they couldn’t breathe without drinking it. A few of them coughed like drowning victims as the storm raged. Lasting only a few minutes.
It stopped just like it had begun. The suns were shining bright, and when they looked up, the horizon was as peaceful as a sleeping baby. If they as well as the land around them weren’t soaked, they would have thought they’d imagined the hurricane-like outburst. They studied the cloudless sky. The storm had accomplished its goal.
Arthur mumbled as if praying, “One might say it was training for the day it got really angry.”
He spoke in a low voice, but they could all hear him in the newfound calm. No one contradicted him, not even Cosmo. Normally, he would have coolly responded with a rational, scientific reason to explain it all. For once, they would have relished Cosmo’s lecture. But he didn’t say a thing to Arthur, proof that what they’d experienced had shocked all of them.
They resumed their walk, again not saying a word. Aidan and Sara weren’t talking this time. But their silence was different, more concentrated than it was several minutes earlier. As if they were on the lookout, in the vacuum of silence, for the tiniest sign of an oncoming weather disaster. It was on that day and moment that they noticed how silent Lalea was when they were far from any towns. Abnormally silent.
Soon, the silence turned soft as a winter morning. The light had subtly shifted to white, as well as the air around them. Suddenly, the road was lost in a fog, and cold flakes clung like pearls to their hair that hadn’t had time to dry. Once again, they studied the sky, useless though it was. They were surrounded, almost encapsulated, in a white coating that muffled the sound of their footsteps and blocked out the suns. The snowflakes lost their soft roundness and revealed their treacherous intent. Within seconds, a blanket of snow had completely covered them, making it impossible to breathe except through their sleeves, which they had raised up to their faces to protect against the snowstorm. Aidan felt his eyebrows turning into frozen furrows and his hair into stalactites a second before blue returned to the sky. Winter’s abrupt arrival had surprised them as much as summer’s sudden return. They hesitated before moving on, fearing the fury of another unforeseen tempest defying all reason. Cosmo gave them the courage to continue by reminding them that as brutal as the storms had been along their route, the weather had quickly returned to normal. They hadn’t been in any real danger. What remained constant were the aqua blue skies and the mild, springlike sunshine. Cosmo assured them they had nothing to fear.
Arthur almost added that they couldn’t be certain that beautiful weather would always return. Perhaps nature would choose to treat them with overwhelming cruelty and then forget to grant them any respite. But when he saw their tired, worried expressions as they eyed the road ahead, he realized they were having the same thoughts. They couldn’t stop in their tracks just because nature might be unkind. When in doubt or in the dark, it’s always best to keep moving.
On the next stretch of road, they encountered a drought that sent them crawling on the dirt ground with throats as dry as buckled cardboard with dust stuck in the folds. They tumbled into a vortex of leaves, though no trees were in sight. They slipped on icy patches. They caught sight of an airplane idling at the end of a blurry, shaking road. They smelled the perfume of a thousand invisible flowers. The scenery itself never changed, even when they passed through seasons that they knew. It was the air around them that was constantly taking on a new month and weather event. The air cooled down or heated up in no logical order and never repeated itself. Weather changes, but rarely with such speed.
The weather finally stabilized when something— other than a mirage— appeared on the horizon. They were able to make out roof tops of a village in the distance. On this last section of the road, all was calm with a pleasant temperature that took time to get used to. They kept their necks craned upward waiting for something new to fall on them. But the weather remained pleasant, and the sky was a crystal-clear blue all the way to the end of the road.
They reached the town with a genuine sense of relief. Albin noticed that they always referred to hamlets as villages, even before knowing their size. This village was the first to have a sign bearing its name at the entrance. It was called Toutem. A man sat leaning against the name sign. His hat, which had seen more than a few days in the rain and shine, grazed the base of the letters. He was busy chewing on walnuts from a large basket next to him. At his other side was a wooden gourd. Everything was arranged so he could enjoy a minimum of effort.
He scarcely looked up at the soaked and shivering travelers that were hugging their clothes that no longer provided much warmth. But the corners of his mouth did widen when he picked up another walnut and worked at cracking it open.
Sara had the feeling that the man was supposed to talk to them, that he was like a sphinx whose job was to grant permission to enter the city. Therefore, she tried hard to stop her teeth from chattering—the most recent weather catastrophe had been really, really cold—and greeted the immobile man. She barely had time to call out to him when held up his hand to interrupt her, and then picked at a piece of shell between his teeth and spat it out. Next, he simply looked at them.
It seemed that this disconcerting behavior was in fact customary on Lalea. Showing discretion, putting the brakes on curiosity. Often, the six companions must have seemed rude, particularly their relentless curiosity that had caused many stares. Fortunately for them, no one had been seriously offended. At least not yet.
“You come from the fields that sing out the weather, right? No need to answer, the evidence tells the story. Me too, I’ve passed through it in my time. You’ve got guts, that’s for sure. Especially since I’ve heard it’s gotten much meaner over the years.”
In reality, they could barely understand him. The man was eating half his words. It was like he couldn’t stop from chewing even without any walnuts in his mouth.
“And you young people, where are you from?”
Sara swallowed before saying, “We come from over there, Nonia. But really, from afar, from farther away than that.”
Impassive, he nonchalantly picked up another walnut.
“You come from afar, huh? Ah, why not, it’s not the strangest story I’ve heard. So could be you come from far away, and could be the weather’s gonna change. My bones are feeling the wind rising up, and these old bones don’t lie. My mind says you all ought not to be boasting so loud. The weather, it’s no longer the same, for sure, and there’re folks who mightn’t like that. Nothing is like before. Don’t forget that, my young friends, nothing is like it used to be.”
His gaze was even more piercing and insistent when he said these last words. But they had no time to linger because the portal was already calling them. They were in such a hurry to leave that they missed the fact that these last words were the only ones the man had spoken clearly.
After their departure, he picked up another walnut from the basket without even glancing back at the ones who had left so abruptly. As if reading a message on the lines of the nutshell meant for him only, he repeated, “Times are changing.” Then he went back to picking apart the nut.
