Coordination

This morning, mid-gray diffuse clouds cover the sky during meditation. Those clouds lack thickness and texture but are abundant nonetheless. We miss our usual comforting luminosity. Ordinarily, even with cloudy or rainy days, we get a sunny spell while meditating for the spirit of the sun Zuva. But not today, we have to content ourselves with our common efforts and good spirit. Our meditation sure seems less magical without the light patterns blooming from the mirrors reflecting the sunlight.

Once we open our eyes and come out of our meditative state, a hooded figure appears before us. He is here, the Herald, the messenger of the sun. The man who seems to control The Community, but almost never makes appearances. The last time he came to us, it was to introduce himself and explain the Trials. All of this happened ten months ago already. Damn, I am always amazed by how fast time can fly by. There is no doubt that having the Herald with us means there is an announcement related to the trial. I have to be ready to face any of them. Even if my mind is still flustered from last night, I must be on alert.

I am still trying to emerge from the discussion Tariro and I shared last night. All the emotions she went through regarding her Balm trial moved me. On one hand, I do blame myself. Nobody could remain steady after witnessing a close friend questioning herself and doubting her ten-month efforts. On the other hand, our discussion makes me worry about my own capacities. If the Balm trial had cost her so much, how would I react? For now, I have no time left to ponder this matter. The Herald is here, and he is going to say something that will need all my attention to fully understand.

Stretching his arms, his face serene, he begins, “Dear new members. Joy fills me as I stand before you. Today, I have a message for our eighteen young seeds. The day has come for each of you to stand up and walk toward the gardens. The Hands trial is waiting for you. Do not worry yourselves with the meal you have yet to eat. It will have to wait. Otherwise, if eating you must, leaves and herbs in enough quantity are already in the gardens. Enjoy yourselves, but beware of the stomach cramps. Ahahah.”

Clearly, the Herald knows how to lift and ease the atmosphere in just a few words. It is quite disturbing to witness. His first appearance ten months ago had left with the same souvenirs. He was a man who knew his importance and was able to easily convince others with his words. No wonder he was the oldest member. He acted accordingly, a merry doyen.

Deciphering his joke, I stand up, accompanied by the seventeen other new members. We all walk to the gardens, anxious and silent. However, I find some joy in the weather. That kind of cloudy sky is best for an outdoor physical activity. I do not know yet what they will ask from us, but I prefer to do so with mid-temperature weather, avoiding the sun beating down on us or the rain drowning us. As I follow Tariro and Shungu, I quickly grasp the situation. The gardens are no different than how we are used to. The only notable change is in the Mahag Chase area. Ten experienced members from The Community are circling the zone, unshakable.

I instantly grasp the situation, we are going to play Mahag Chase while the usual players, probably all members of the Hands, will watch us. Observing the judges, I recognize some faces. They are all excellent players, and I can barely hold my ground against them. And, I cannot hide my troubled emotions. I had no idea a trial could take the form of a regular game most members play in the gardens. I was expecting something bigger, like a tiny house to craft in two days or heavy stones to move. Anyway, everything stands before me and I have to answer the challenge, no matter how simple it may seem. Besides, even among new members, I am not the best at Mahag Chase. I should not underestimate anyone and erase my overconfidence for the time being. It is time to prepare for my first trial.

The Herald’s words still echo in my ears when we reach the edge of the gardens. The air is a little heavier than usual. Perhaps the clouds are responsible for the strange atmosphere, perhaps it is our palpable stress. Around us, the members of the Hands are standing still like eternal stone pillars, waiting. Only one finally moves and asks us to choose our teams. What should we do? As we are eighteen members, we must create two groups, one with ten and the other with eight people. This means a match of five versus five and another of four versus four. Perhaps Gudo, Tariro, Shungu, and I should stay together as we are four members used to playing with one another.

Then, coming near the playing area, I rub my palms together. My skin is slightly damp. I look at Gudo, who confirms my thoughts and says, “Alright, we can choose our own teams, so let’s not get separated.”

“I like that, we have a good balance when we play together,” Tariro replies, flashing a quick grin. She looks calmer than she did yesterday after her trial. I am relieved to see her like that.

Shungu crosses his arms and tilts his head, “Good balance, hm? You mean three people who can play and one who’s going to trip on her first run?”

I glare at him, hearing the hint of amusement in his tone. Nowadays, Shungu likes to tease me. That is his way of keeping a peaceful tension between us. I understand why he is like this. Still, there is no way I will let him walk over me. Looking back at him, I reply, “Keep talking. Maybe I’ll prove you right just to see that smug look fade.”

Gudo chuckles softly. “So it is decided. We play together. But remember, we are not just here to win. We are here to be watched. We must not only play well but also look graceful while doing it, no matter how impossible that might seem for Shungu or me.”

We laugh cheerfully, easing the rising tension before the Hand trial. And, at the same time, we listen to Gudo. It is rather curious to observe how Gudo can transform into a leader when things are related to Mahag Chase. Being a skilled player made him a perfect teacher and adviser for us. With time, he naturally became the person we follow the most when we play.

And so, Gudo does not need to add anything. We all know that every move, every mistake, every hesitation will be seen by the judges around us when we are on the field. This is part of the Hands trial. They will not judge only our skill but also how we react and interact together. When you think about it, this trial makes a lot of sense. Working with your hands is almost always related to others. You must be able to convey your need and ask for help when needed. All those discreet skills can appear during a Mahag Chase game.

Then, one of the judges advances and starts explaining the rules of the game to be sure. We all know them, but we would rather hear them once again before such a game,

“Listen carefully,” the judge begins, his voice calm and steady. “The game before you is called Mahag Chase. Two teams face each other, each with the same number of players. You will need a small leather ball and a short wooden bat. One player launches the ball and another strikes it. The one who strikes is called the runner. Once the ball is in the air, he must complete a full circle before returning to the home base. As long as the ball is not caught, the runner is safe. But if the opposing team seizes it, they may send a single defender to chase and tag the runner. Only one defender may chase at a time, and each must stay behind their assigned Mahag stick. When the play ends, whether the runner is safe or caught, the teams switch roles. The match continues until one side has no players left.”

Once the rules are over, the four of us settle on the side. The first game of five versus five players will begin soon. They all take their positions in unison. The last hesitant murmurs fade when the first launcher raises the small leather ball. I feel my muscles tense even though I am not playing yet. The sound of the bat striking the ball cuts the silence sharply. Sand bursts upward. The game starts as the first runner takes off.

Everything moves on its own as we watch absently, too focused and worried about the next game, where we will be the ones to be looked at. The rhythm of the game is fast, impossible to follow for someone who has not played before. Dust lifts, feet slide, shouts echo. One runner dives to avoid a tag, rolls, and keeps running. Most of them are good. This means that almost everyone did their best to prepare for the trials, no matter what they could be.

And so, the match ends of its own accord. It was faster than I expected. However, I cannot think for too long. Our turn has come.

The four of us step into the circle. My pulse begins to rise. The sand feels soft under my bare feet.

“Let’s start defending,” Gudo decides. “We can learn from how they play first.”

We nod, and the opposing team agrees as they prepare for their first launch.

The ball flies, the runner swings, and the game begins. Gudo reacts before anyone else. His posture is effortless, his movement sharp. He intercepts the ball’s fall with practiced grace and in one clean motion throws it to the left. The nearest defender catches and sprints after the runner. That defender is Gudo himself. I can barely follow the speed of his chase. He shortens the distance with every step and taps the opponent’s shoulder just as the runner tries to curve near the fourth Mahag stick. The sound of the touch is faint but final. Cheers erupt from us. One opponent eliminated.

Now, we run, and Tariro surprisingly decides to be our first runner. She nods once to me, once to Gudo, and takes her position. The launcher, Shungu, tosses the ball high and slightly backward, as they had agreed. Tariro swings with strength as the ball arcs far, bouncing twice before landing near the boundary. The defenders from the opposing team scatter, and Tariro runs, her hair flowing behind her, her feet hardly sinking into the sand. For a moment, everything slows. Her rhythm is light, confident. In no time, she completes her circle untouched. We exchange smiles, and I am proud of her.

Next, we must defend. I prepare my mind and focus on the launcher. The ball comes fast, and I react almost instinctively. I chase the runner, focusing on her shoulders, waiting for the right moment to tag. She zigzags near Shungu’s zone, and I move to intercept. But then I realize too late that my path crosses his. Shungu was perfectly positioned to touch her. I should have stopped. My sudden movement cuts his way, and the runner slips between us, barely escaping.

Shungu stops abruptly, frustration flashing in his eyes. “You blocked me!” he hisses.

“I was trying to…”

“Don’t try. Look.”

I bite my lip, embarrassed. I hate when Shungu is right. Worst of all, the runner has completed the circle safely…

Shungu’s turn comes next. He is the one who will run. Already in position, he does not wait and swings at the ball Tariro sent him with all his strength. The ball lands shorter than expected. Watching from the side, I shout immediately, “Left, Shungu, run as much as you can on the left to dodge more easily!”

Shungu either does not hear me or ignores the command. Regarding our shared tensions, I would choose the second option. And so, he dashes straight ahead… I see the defender closing in from the right as soon as they catch his throw. For a second, I think he might still make it, but then a hand touches his back. Damn, he was not far from the end of the circle, but the sound was unmistakable. He is out.

He kicks the sand in frustration and sits on the side, silence covering his anger.

We are three now. Tariro, Gudo, and I. The ball flies again, and we take our places, ready to defend. The runner’s pace is uneven. Tariro has a chance to tag him near her zone, but she hesitates as she looks at Gudo, who is not far from her position. I see her hand lift, but it is too late… Her doubt cost us a possible elimination. The runner slips past.

When the round ends, Gudo turns to her. “You had him.”

“I did not want to get in your way,” she murmurs.

Gudo exhales softly. “I understand. But next time, please, do not think about me. Think about the team.”

In response, Tariro lowers her eyes. I know her. She must be as furious with herself as she is with Gudo. But she accepted the remark. Like us, she noticed her mistake.

Later, for the following rounds, our coordination improves. Each of us finds our rhythm. Tariro regains confidence, I learn to measure my movements, and Gudo seems to anticipate every trajectory. Twice, I managed to complete my runs untouched. The sand no longer feels heavy beneath my feet. I feel lighter, more certain, my breathing almost blending with the wind. The watchers around the circle are silent, observant. I can feel their perpetual attention. It is like an ever-growing pressure on my back. But like my friends, I continue, determined to succeed.

This time, it is Tariro’s turn again to be the runner. She hits the ball I sent her with nice precision, but not far enough. The closest defender reacts quickly, too quickly… We shout encouragements, but Tariro stumbles slightly near the third stick. One opponent catches up and tags her shoulder. In the heat of the moment, the runner touches her too roughly, making her fall violently on the ground.

In fear, I run to her and help her stand up gently.

“Are you alright?” I ask, my face unable to hide how worried I feel.

“Fine,” Tariro replies, even though her tone is tight.

A spark of anger rises in me. I can still see the smirk of the man who touched her. Clearly, he will get what is coming for him.

After the short altercation, it is our turn to defend again. I do not hesitate, focusing my gaze on the runner. He is the one who pushed Tariro, and apparently, he is unaware of how much I am focusing on him.

The ball is struck, and he runs. In reaction, my body moves on its own. I sprint from my Mahag stick, cutting across his angle. I allowed myself to run in advance as I trust Gudo to catch the ball for us. I am not disappointed as he shouts the success signal. At the same moment, the runner tries to feint left to dodge me. It is no use, I anticipate and reach out. My fingers brush his shoulder just before he crosses the end of the circle. He stumbles to a stop. The game is over for him. A wave of satisfaction runs through me. I look in Tariro’s direction, who smiles faintly, understanding.

Now, it should be my turn to run, but Gudo looks at me instead as he proposes, “You are tired. Let me go.”

I shake my head stubbornly. “No. I can and I will handle it.”

He studies me for a moment before he concludes with his usual teasing, “I hope you know your limits, dear Xia.”

I grip the bat. My arms feel heavier than before. The ball comes. I swing, hitting decently, though not very far. I start running nonetheless, focused on winning. The sand resists under my feet, dragging at every step. Tiredness is showing its first signs. Behind me, I hear the rhythm of pursuit. My heart beats wildly. I try to twist left, then right, but my legs do not respond as swiftly as they should. The defender closes in. I will not lose, I can’t. Alas, one defender touches me lightly on the back… I stop, panting, frustration flooding through me. Gudo’s gaze meets mine across the field. There is no reproach, only soft deception. I reach the outer limit of the circle next to Tariro and Shungu. Like my eliminated teammates, I am enraged with myself, but I keep some energy to cheer for Gudo.

He is the last one in our team. On the other side, the opposing team has two players left. The air feels denser, the clouds darker. We are surely not in a good position, but we are talking about Gudo. If someone can make us win or have a draw in those conditions, it is him. He plays with a serenity that none of us can match.

When it is his turn to run, he never pushes beyond what is necessary. His movements are controlled, efficient, and almost quiet. He allows the runner to get close, then slips away with minimal effort. I realize he is deliberately saving his strength.

One round passes. No one is tagged. Another. Still none. The tension builds like a string pulled too tight. The third round begins, and both teams move with precision, unwilling to make the mistake that could cost them everything. The runner from the opposing side strikes the ball. Gudo’s eyes follow it calmly. He does not rush. There is no need. He waits, knowing the rule: Three rounds have passed for each team without any elimination. The rules are the rules. Three untouched rounds end the game as a draw.

The call from one of the Hands pierces the air. Draw.

I let out the breath I had been holding. My chest feels light, as if a weight has been lifted. Tariro claps her hands together, laughing softly. Gudo comes back to us, shrugging modestly, though I can see the hint of pride in his eyes.

“Well played,” Shungu says, his tone polite but distant. He forces a smile that does not quite reach his eyes. We ignore his half-witted comment.

And, as we leave the circle, the clouds begin to thin slightly, letting through a faint shimmer of light. It touches the sand, turning it pale gold. We did not win, but we put on a good show. Except for Shungu, my instinct tells me that Tariro, Gudo, and I should pass the Hands trial.

At the end, the whole session for this trial lasted the entire afternoon. Everyone is wiped. Shungu, Tariro, Gudo, and I go to the refectory to quickly cook a common meal. It is faster this way. Eating some pumpkin along with a cowpea pot, we remain silent. Various emotions brim inside me, a mix of relief, exhaustion, fear, and apprehension. I do not need to ask my comrades to know they share feelings very close to mine. Satiated, we go our separate ways, each of us determined to sleep and move on to the next day. While we walk toward our respective rooms, Tariro ponders, “Xia, you told me we were going to fight for real so I would experience what a real fight looks like. What about now?”

Breathing out, I reply with a sincerity I cannot hold back regarding how tired I am, “A real fight is one where you and I are capable of fighting with strength and wistfulness. Perhaps you have a secret cache of energy somewhere, but I have nothing of the sort. Sorry, Tariro, I need to rest. Tomorrow, I promise.”

She looks at me warily for a second before moving on and shifting her expression to kindness. “It’s okay, tomorrow then.”

My answer is summed up in a soft smile. I hug her and open the wide, metallic wooden door of my room, darkness replacing the candle lights in the corridor. I sigh. Here I feel in my place. I am in the dark, a comfy silence surrounding me, and a bright moonlight praising me to rise for her needs.

The instant I enter the room, I cannot ignore it. The reflection of the moon through my narrow top window penetrates my entire body, calling for action. In the past few months, I have not received any strong responses from the spirit of the moon Yulin. Persistent as ever, I did not abandon and kept meditating almost every night to call for guidance and direction. Yet, right now, without even beginning any meditation process, I can feel them. Yulin is near me, waiting for me, pushing for my eyes to be their own and follow instructions. I can barely hold the happiness and excitement I feel from this sudden connection. Any tiredness I could feel from the Hands trial disappears in an instant. I waited months for a strong connection with Yulin, and I will not let anything stand between us.

Not wasting time, I prepare my body. Nothing is moving, I stand firmly so my mind can easily connect with the moon. Then, I progress through my homemade ritual for a spirit I suspect no one but me is honoring daily. My arms stretch. I am ready to proceed.

“Moon raises, mind praises.

They are the peak of our dreams, yet they protect.

They are the limits of our streams, yet they connect.

Yulin, beauty of white, shining of light.

Reach your devotee and show them the way,

for they truly wish to reach the bay.”

They are there, I feel them more and more by the second. They are guiding me and pushing me to move. The feeling is similar to what I experienced ten months ago, but now I have no reason to be surprised. I had time to ponder what Yulin wants from me. I suspect there is something somewhere that is important for them. So important that they would channel their will through me to find it. I let them show me the way, one step after another.

My bedroom door opens delicately, and I progress through the corridor. It would be impossible to describe what is going on within me. My feet know where to go. They know their duty. They feel a place, a thing calling for them, and trust Yulin to advance. Trust would be, without a doubt, the perfect word to put it simply. It is about trust, a shared trust between my simple being and the most powerful spirit of the night.

Soon, I find myself in the hall. Everything gets stronger and stronger as I continue. I am led to the small stage in the back of the hall where the sun altar with the large, marvelous sun mirror is. The same one that redirects the light of the sun every morning to create a unique pattern on the stone ceiling. Bypassing it, I now stand before the large wall right behind it. My feet wish to proceed and go through the wall, but my body cannot. Why would I want to go on the other side of this wall? Thanks to my eleven months in The Community, I can tell that there is not a single door that leads behind this wall. As I think about it, there is definitely something weird. Why in such a large building would we have a room in the middle that no one can access? It cannot be a chunk of stone, it would be as useless as expensive.

I am baffled by the discovery. How had I not witnessed this before? On the other hand, this house is so large that I would need a lifetime to find out every incoherence. Yet, this one is rather peculiar.

Obviously, the night being the night, it is difficult to analyze the wall more clearly. Feeling mischievous, I move the large mirror from the sun altar and put it somewhere where it can redirect the light of the moon. I am lucky, tonight is a full moon, so it has enough light to distinguish the details on the wall.

Finally able to look at it, I see the intricate stone pattern in the middle of the wall. Its architecture reveals a sun with radiating petals and concentric circles worn smooth by time. The craftsmanship is remarkable. It has deep grooves and symmetrical shapes that catch the light differently across the weathered surface. Yet, upon closer inspection, a faint line runs through the center of the design. Right there, there is a subtle junction almost imperceptible to the casual observer. It hints at a hidden mechanism beneath the stone, suggesting that this elegant carving is not merely ornamental but the clever facade of a secret door leading to a concealed chamber. I knew it. If I did not know there was something behind it, I would never have discovered the discreet junction. Wouah, how remarkable. What secret must be hidden on the other side? Sadly, I already know the opening will not be easy to find. Besides, I should be wary of other members who could, for any reason, reach the hall in the night. I must stop and put the large mirror back on the sun altar.

At the moment, there is nothing I can do except to turn back. As I conclude my observations, my connection with Yulin becomes weaker until it completely disappears. I have to discover a way to go through this fake wall. Yulin’s answer is there. I am certain. But first, sleep. My body aches. Every inch of it is calling for me to rest.

Being back in my bedroom, I wait in the middle, watching the moon. I exhale profoundly and ponder how I feel. I experienced many things during tonight’s meditation. I have new answers but also more questions. When will it stop? When will I know my path clearly and be able to accomplish Yulin’s will and mission? I do not know. The only thing I know is my urgent need to sleep. As my back touches the firm weave of dried palm leaves laid over a layer of soft river reeds, I disappear into the void of the night. Finally, completely.

Some time later, a hand is reaching for my cheek. It has been a long time since someone touched me with such gentleness. It must be a dream, a good one. Unable to see anything or anyone, I give up my momentary need to know who my masseur is and let the touch engulf me. Then, a faraway voice reaches my ear. This is a voice I do not recognize at first. Who could it be? I focus on the words I can hear, “Up… Wait… Balm.”

Does this person describe the soft balm I can feel on my face? That would make sense. If I had a warm touch like this person, I would want to speak about it and have people praise me for it. I go back to my slumber, but cannot. Apparently, the voice is still speaking to me. Damn, this person sure is dedicated. What is going on? I should try to listen to the voice more clearly, “Waiting… Trial… You… Balm trial… Xia.” Oh, the person just linked my name to the Balm trial, how funny, I should soon have to do it. I wonder… Wait… Is someone trying to wake me up for the Balm trial? Right now? I had such a marvelous night… Fine, I will wake up. At least, being dragged out of my bed like this will not give me any time to be more anxious than I already am.