The Mamo Fragments

[Twenty-four chapters of The Mamo Fragments were apparently written by Oren, the author living on the strange and distant world described therein. However, only thirteen chapters have been found for inclusion in this book. We offer our most sincere apologies for any inconvenience this may cause and hope that you, the reader, will be able to infer the fairly substantial omitted information. To read all recovered chapters , click on the title above.]

Chapter Two: After the Fire

We had barely passed beneath the city's great stone archway when it crashed down to the ground with the sound of thunder, raising a storm of dust and a rain of rocks but protecting us, for a moment, at least, from the Enemy that rampaged through our city. We ran to the woods, not stopping to look back until we had reached the safety of the trees' shadows, and when we finally did we could see flames leaping high above the city walls, the smoke already darkening the bright morning sky.

“Come on!” said Gregor urgently, tugging at my arm. I turned from what had been our home and we followed the scarce marks on the trees to Emmusell's cottage. The pine trees scratched our soft and pearly skin, but the warm earth gently pulled the fierce smell of fire from us and replaced it with the healthy fragrance of the woods.

Emmusell was already standing on his cottage's wooden step, saddling Mamo for our journey ahead. His dark, forest-mottled skin looked more alive in the sunlight than it had inside our classroom. Our elder smiled when he saw us, and Mamo gave a friendly bellow. “I was worried for you,” Emmusell said. “I'm glad you made it here safely.”

“They came quickly, like you told us,” Gregor said. “The city may already be in ruins.”

Emmusell nodded. “You must ride far away, to the North and East, beyond the Wide White River and into the Black Mountains. There I have a cabin that Mamo knows well. From there we may perhaps find those who can help to overcome the Enemy, and even journey to our families in the Beyond, if it proves to be real. But the journey there will take you many days, probably many weeks, to get there. Stop only in the cities where yellow lights burn, for there you will find the warmth of friendly fires.”

“Where are you going?” I asked, although I knew he could not tell us all that he might do.

“I have much yet to learn about our Enemy,” he replied, “and about the Great Sea, if all else should fail. I also hope to see the mountain of Verj in the far north, to know whether the Beyond truly lies past it. There is already great danger in the land. But as long as you are brave, you will be safe.” He lifted me up so I could reach the bottom of Mamo's saddle, and I scrambled up the side of the huge furry animal, who barely seemed to notice my weight. His back was too wide for me to straddle, so I sat cross-legged as Gregor was hoisted up.

“Here,” said Emmusell, holding up an old leather backpack for us. I grasped it and found it surprisingly heavy. “These are the books full of the stories I have told you, the dreams and nightmares and visions of a thousand generations of our storykeepers, grown from the same soil as our city. Guard them well, for who knows how many will remember them after today!” We peeked inside reverently, and then I tucked the bag safely between a few sacks of food and the sleeping mats Emmusell had rolled up for us.

“How will we know where to go?” asked Gregor.

“There is a map in the backpack, and Mamo knows the way as long as you tell him what you want. Trust him, and trust what you have learned. Be wary of all men, but not distrustful, for we are all the same at heart.” Emmusell reached up to stroke Mamo's nose. “You must be off, my three friends,” he said sadly, “but I will see you again, before the end of all things.”

We waved our goodbyes and thanks to him as Mamo began his long, slow tread up the hill. Gregor and I turned back around only when the cottage was long covered by the deep green trees.

Silence wrapped us for a while, the only sound the quiet snapping of pine needles beneath Mamo's colossal feet and the muffled noises of the forest. After a time I said to Gregor, “Do you think we'll find anybody else who knows the stories in the books?”

He shrugged. “If they don't know them, we can always teach them.”

Mamo paused briefly in a clearing close to the top of the hill, standing in the golden afternoon sunlight as if to chase away the chill of the coming autumn evening. Gregor and I looked back over the valley below and could still see the pillar of smoke rising from our city, filling the blue sky with black.

“I'm glad we have those stories,” said Gregor with a shiver, and I could only nod as Mamo began to move again, back into the woods and farther up the hills, cold despite the warmth of the day.

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