The Tribe of Wen: The Great Summoning
Dawn broke over the horizon, yellow beams peering through between the moving mountains in the far distance. The evening dew began to settle atop the pinkish straws forming the fields of sugargrass around a small, primitive clay hut with straw and stick roofs. The clay on this hut looked middle-aged, discoloured in areas where maintenance had necessitated new clay or straw. Numerous extensions and additions had been made over the years as well, a larder attachment and various sheds surrounding the house. As the first rays poured in through the doorway and glistened through the linen curtain covering it, a few of the shapes laying on a woven straw carpets stirred to life, awakening the rest. The first head to lift off the ground was feminine, with the soft, lean features of Xiaoli - though a little wrinkled and saggy with age, long alabaster hair flowing down over her shoulders much in the same way it had done for most of her life (except for that short period in her teens that she insisted nobody bring up). She rubbed the remaining sleep out of her eyes with two fingers and smacked her lips. She looked out the doorway to meet the blinks of sunlight and began to shake the shoulder of the shape next to her.
“Wen-wen,” Ai said assertively. “Come on. It’s morning.”
Wenbo sucked in a breath and groaned himself to a seated position, the blanket covering the whole family moving along with him and away from everybody else. The smallest of the shapes curled up and began to mutter. Wenbo gave the closest one a smile and patted his shoulder. “Alright, Qi, you heard grandma. Time to get up.”
The little boy curled up even tighter. “Don’ wanna!”
Wenbo chuckled. “You and me both, son, but grandma’s word is law in this house. C’mon now.” He took Qi gently by the arm and hoisted him up so he sat. The boy gave him a surly stare, but slowly got to his feet, adjusted his long tunic and walked outside. Next to where the now-standing Ai had laid sat a fourth figure. “Dad?” he went as he rubbed his eyes.
“Yes, Ren?”
Ren tried to subdue a yawn, but was alas unsuccessful. “Did-... Did you see which direction he went?”
Wenbo shrugged. “Think he went left towards the beck. Ai, dear, did you see if he brought along a pot?”
Ai looked down next to the doorway where there stood a few pots of varying sizes. The frown on her face already answered Wenbo’s question.
“Alright, he forgot. Cai, could you go get some water for porridge?”
A fifth shape next to Ren sat up, revealing a sixth shape up against the house wall. That sixth shape let out a long groan and sat up, two fists rubbing a pair of groggy eyes. Wen Cai, granddaughter of Wenbo and Ai, made a wry frown and got to her feet, quickly wrapping her linen robe around her a little tighter as she walked past her parents and grandparents out the doorway, bringing a tall pot along with her. Wenbo followed her with his eyes as she left and then gave his son and daughter-in-law a shrug. “Did something happen?”
Wen Ren’s wife, Naran, sat up and combed her hair with her fingers with pursed lips. “I think she had some difficulties with that Khublai boy last night. She didn’t tell me much, but given that she’s been together with that possé quite a bit lately, I think that’s what happened.”
Wenbo nodded and scratched his cheek, looking up at Ai who wore a slightly amused smile. “Young love is always just as fun,” she giggled.
“I don’t love him, granny,” Cai muttered as she pushed the curtain aside and placed the pot down next to the hearth. “In fact, I think he’s a big, fat jerk.”
Wenbo hummed. “I’d say he’s on the leaner side, myself, but--”
“Shut up, grampa! You know what I mean!” Cai shouted. Qi rocketed to his feet and stormed over. The shouting elicited weak cries from a small crib at the far end on the straw carpet and Naran went over to soothe its inhabitant.
“Wen Cai! You will -not- speak that way to your grandparents, is that clear?”
“Oh, snapping-- Ugh! Just leave me alone!” Cai screamed and went outside again. Qi thundered after, shouting, “Young lady! Listen here--!” Their shouting faded into the unintelligible and Ai sighed with a shake of the head.
“Every week, there’s a morning like this,” she muttered. Wenbo chuckled.
“Now, now, she’s around that age now… I still remember camping outside for days with Chaggie whenever you got like this, way back when.” He gave Ai a playful wink and she returned it with a wry grin.
“Oh, ha-ha. I wasn’t -that- bad, was I?” She went over to the hearth and began to stack small branches of dry mushroom wood and various other kinds.
Wenbo hummed. “Well, there was that one time when it took you a whole week to calm down after I kissed Bayarmaa on the cheek when she finally managed to finish her play.”
Ai snickered. “You totally deserved that. I was your girlfriend and you’re not supposed to kiss other people than your girlfriend.”
“She’s my sister, Ai.”
“So am I, silly.”
Wenbo rolled his eyes and giggled. “It was only a kiss on the cheek.”
Ai furrowed her brow and sighed. “A kiss is still a kiss, Wen-wen. I hope that week in the woods made that perfectly clear.”
Wenbo looked over to Naran who was nestling their youngest, Hao, at her breast. She gave him a confused look. “Take notes,” he said. “This is how not to act proportionally.” Naran nodded slowly, evidently not having paid attention to the conversation. Ai gasped.
“How not to act proportionally?” Ai said with feigned shock as the fire settled in the hearth. She reached for a black-keeled bowl, filled it with the water from the pot and then scooped rice into it from a nearby bag until the water covered the rice with an approximate ratio of six to one. She peered into the bag and frowned. “... Not to kill a good laugh, but could you go to the larders and fetch some more rice, dear?”
Wenbo sighed and nodded. He pushed himself to his feet, straightened out his robes and pushed the curtain ‘door’ aside. As he stepped into those pinkish fields, he gazed to the four winds to survey the beautiful land:
To the north passed one of the great moving mountains, its lethargic pace in reality much faster than many other natural movements. Wenbo momentarily remembered the day Chaggie and he had gone there for their little adventure. He had never quite been the same since, his dear brother. He wondered if it still haunted him, that experience.
To the east were endless pink plains glistening in the heliopolis, broken up only by a special field rather close to their huts, its stalks quite different from the surrounding sweetgrass and flowers. There were stalkplums, a plump, yet awfully hard grain that really was closer to a root in taste and texture. It made for a somewhat dull flour that had to be washed thoroughly before use, but once washed, Ai made the most delicious pancakes with it. Around the stalkplum fields were also smaller fields of vegetables like carrots and cabbage.
To the south was a swamp, but as opposed to what one may think of swamps, this one was extremely important. It was here that they had used the knowledge bestowed upon them by Xiaoli to cultivate the local species of wild rice, something they now ate basically every single day.
To the west, he saw the dots of houses and patches of fields much like his own. The rest of his kin and extended family had settled all over the plains, each carving out patches of land to support their families on. His eight children had all built their houses close to his and regularly came over to visit. Wenbo sucked in a joyous breath - this truly was an idyllic existence.
As he made his way towards the larder, he stopped by the house’s shrines. Nine shrines had been built along the western wall of the house, each honouring a god that had aided Hermes on her travels across the world. In order from left to right, there were shrines to Narzhak, a flat stone labelled with the god’s name adorned with rust sand and a wooden club; Kalmar, a labelled flat stone upon which laid the dry bones of a hunted quoll; Li’Kalla, a labelled flat stone with a small spot of soft fur on it which one could boop with a finger; Ashalla, which was not a stone, but a bowl filled with sea salt and sand from the distant shores; Shengshi, which was a bowl of river water from the nearby beck; K’nell, which was a number of flat stones stacked to look like the platform of Limbo as described by Wenbo’s parents; Eurysthenes, which was a flat stone with various bones and threads to represent puzzles; Arae, which was a stone covered in the names of Wenbo’s whole clan; and Abanoc, which was a roofed basket of prayers written on bark.
Wenbo bowed before all of them as was the morning routine for him and went on to the larders. There, he grabbed a large sack of rice and turned around to see Cai approaching. He gave her a curious look and set the sack down on the ground, running his hand through his black hair. “You feeling better, dear?”
Cai didn’t say anything, but grabbed the sack of rice, swung it over her back and went towards the hut. Wenbo stood scratching his hair, but put on a satisfied smile. Ren came towards him along the same path his daughter had gone and nodded at his father.
“Did you manage to calm her down?” Wenbo asked.
Ren shrugged uncertainly. “Eh, ‘calm’ is a generous word. She’s not shouting anymore, but she is far from happy. I really wonder what that Khublai boy did.”
Wenbo smirked. “Temüjin was always a bit of a prankster and it wouldn’t surprise me if some of his grandkids picked up on that trait. Maybe he made a joke that didn’t quite hit the mark.”
“Heh… Yeah, maybe.” Ren rubbed the side of his blue-speckled nose and looked towards the fields. “Shall we get some work done before porridge is ready?”
Wenbo followed his gaze and nodded. “Yeah, it’s almost harvesting season now. Ought to keep a keen eye on the plants to make sure they don’t rot right before they ripen.”
“My thoughts exactly. I’ll get the spades.”
Wenbo watched his son run off with a proud smile on his face. The spades had been left over at the house of his second eldest daughter, Meihua, however, so it would take some time for Ren to return. Wenbo chuckled to himself - he could take some time off before work; he had earned it, he assured himself. The aging dreamer descended the hill and wandered through his fields. In the distance, the heliopolis kissed a small hilltop enveloped in a blanket of pink grass. It was there that he, ages ago, had married his wife in the same way his mothers had married. Now it was his favourite little spot to ponder and nap. He took long strides up the gentle curve of the slope and reached the top with a whistle on his lips. He found the indent in the lawn where he usually laid and settled down.
The wind caressed him motherly; the skies were clear as day; the light of Heliopolis casting out its rays - all was perfect in the moment.
“... Wenbo…”
A voice on the wind pulled Wenbo out of his idyll. He rubbed his eyes and looked down at his farm below. “... Snap, Ren’s quick toda--”
Ren was not in sight - nor was anyone else.
“... Wenbo…”
The dreamer slowly rose up, his head rubbernecking to the four winds. No, no one else could be seen. His eyes suddenly fell upon a nearby bush. It danced gently in the wind, almost beckoning him closer.
“... Wenbo…” the voice called again and Wenbo approached the bush. He held out his hand and touched the branches.
“... H-hello?” he said to the bush quite carefully.
“... Wait, what are you doing?” the voice went. Wenbo recoiled from the bush and looked around.
“Look, Temüjin, wherever you are, this is not funny! We are much too old for pranks!”
The voice hummed. “This is, most assuredly, not a prank, Wenbo.” It was at this point that Wenbo realised an oddity in the voice - it seemed to toss direction to the wind, coming from both everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. What was certain, however, was that he heard it - and it was speaking to him.
“Come now… Do you not recognise the voice of your grandfather, my child?”
Wenbo blinked. “I-... I have no g-grandfather - my mom was the first of her kind, and-and… My mother was--” He cut himself off, his heart freezing momentarily. For as many seconds as he could, he made great attempts to remember age-old lessons on humility and courtesy taught to him by his mother. He planted his palms in the soil, sat down on his heels and lowered his torso.
While there was no vision of the creature speaking to him, Wenbo could almost hear him smirk. “... Ah… So you recognise me after all…”
Wenbo took a second to dab the sweat forming on his forehead with the sleeve of his robe. “What does His Lordship wish of me-... No wait, wish of this one?”
There came a flat hum. “He Bo, make a note to contact Xiaoli about her priorities when raising her children, would you?”
Wenbo blinked. “Your Lordship, with all due respect, who is He Bo?”
“Oh, my,” Shengshi went, “I was not supposed to think that. Quite a long day today, you see - pardon me for a moment, would you?”
There was silence. Wenbo sat up, feeling his heart in his throat. It took him several moments to stabilise his hyperventilation, but just as he had managed to calm himself--
“Right, right, pardon that,” the oily voice of the snake excused. Wenbo froze again. “Right, where was I…” There was an audible purse of lips, then a gape as a lightbulb flashed. The tone shifted, the oil in the voice growing thicker and darker. Wenbo could feel the stern eyes of the River Lord upon himself, like two reptilian orbs glaring down on him through the ether itself.
“... Wenbo, son of Hermes, son of Xiaoli - hark at your Lord, for I bring to you a great mission and a great gift.”
Wenbo remained unmoving in the grass, his mind clogged with awe and confusion. Eventually, he managed to produce the word: “.. Wha-...”
There came a sigh. “... Yes, I know this may seem confusing to mortal minds - I will admit that it is my first time, as well - talking to mortals this way has a tendency to cause, well…” There came another pause. “Shall I just elaborate, then?”
Wenbo barely blinked and slowly nodded. The snake took a deep breath. “So be it. Wenbo, yours is among the oldest and most well-established tribes of Dreamers. The tribe of Wen is legendary among your people as the first to sport three generations - making you the very first grandfather among your people.” There was a pause. “Your mother has spoken highly of you - she says you are an inventor and crafter bested only by your parents, and that your house is the greatest among your people…”
Wenbo looked down the slope at his shack and furrowed his brow. “... I don’t think--”
“Oh, seize the humility, son (do not actually seize it, by the way - it is quite appreciated). Your mother would never lie to me - she is me, after all. She also tells me you are quite an adventurer and explorer, and have composed numerous works of art and toolwork over the course of your life - even going as far as to invent the sickle to make the stalkplum harvest simpler… My, you truly are gifted, son.”
Wenbo sat back up onto his heels and tried to gather his words. “M-my Lord, this is all quite humbling, but--”
“It is praise - it is supposed to be. Again, I appreciate the humility you show. It truly is a symbol of good character, that. Now, hark once more, for your mission is this: Take your family, the whole tribe, along with whomever wishes to join along, and bring them all to the southern tip of Tendlepog; there, I will meet you personally and bring you to your new home…”
Wenbo blinked. “... Our… Our new home?”
One could almost hear the nodding. “Yes, Wenbo… A land fat with ripe fruit and sweet water; a land where the winter keeps no one hostage; a land where all your wit, might and unity with be tested over and over again, only to strengthen like stone under pressure and heat. Settle here permanently, and your mission shall be completed.”
“T-tested, my Lord?
“Indeed, young one, and here is where the great gift comes in - should you and your tribe accomplish this task, I will bless you and your whole lineage with eternal prosperity for as long as the blood of Wen runs through the veins of a dreamer.” There came a pause. “I will never let you starve nor your crops fail, and wherever you walk, wealth shall appear in abundance. Your cups will never empty and your guests will never leave thirsty. All this and more, I, Shengshi, promise you and your kin, my child.”
Wenbo swallowed and looked distantly at the ground below. A time passed. Then another one. In his head, he heard occasional hums and lip smacks from an increasingly impatient god. Once more, Wenbo looked down to his home where he now saw Ren looking for him. He sucked in a shaking breath and inclined his head forward as he sat. “I… May this servant have some time to discuss this gift and mission with his siblings and family?”
“Naturally,” the oily voice allowed. “I will be expecting your reply at your earliest convenience.”
Wenbo nodded, but as he did, a question popped into his mind. He heard the call of his son below the hill and suddenly fumbled his words as he tried to formulate the sentence. “Your-your Lordship! How do I contact you?”
There was a pause, and for a moment Wenbo feared the god had broken the channel. Then the voice came. “When you are ready, go to my shrine by your house and pray. I will hear you and we will converse further from there.”
Wenbo blinked down to the distant wall of shrines and nodded slowly. “As You wish, my Lord.” Then the mighty presence disappeared and Wenbo noticed just how fatigued the whole experience had made him. Breaking the hillside came a winded Ren.
“Dad, couldn’t you have waited for me?” the son said and then immediately shifted his tone towards concern. “Dad, is everything alright?”
Wenbo looked at him with anxious eyes. “Come, my son - we must gather every dreamer we can find. Our Lord summons us.”
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