Monumental

By Olivia Kim

Share:

This piece was selected as an Honorable Mention in the First Chapters Contest, hosted in partnership with Penguin Random House and Electric Lit.

I wake to the soft noises of our caravan. The clip-clops come from each step of our horses as they walk through the grass. The drumming comes from the wheels of our wagon going over the uneven ground. Chester’s quiet murmurs echo from the front of the caravan to the back. The sounds of paper rustling and a pen moving come from right across from me. For a moment, I almost want to let the sounds lure me back to sleep. 

The wind blows through the caravan, and I fold my arms to my chest. Surprisingly, I don’t get the usual chill from the weather outside that I’d usually get during this time. Then, I remember that I’m nowhere near home and its familiarities. I blink my eyes open and lean my chest forward, forcing my body awake. 

I hear a voice begin to speak, and I register that Nova is sitting across from me. 

“That was quite an awakening,” she says, closing her journal and clipping her pen to the front cover. It’s in the small details of her voice that I notice the slight edge she has when she speaks, almost like she’s one step away from breaking down. She walks over to the kitchen, and offers me an apple with a smile on her face. 

“Think of it less as an awakening and more of a wake-up call,” I respond hesitantly, trying to keep up the facade that she’s trying to put up. “I almost forgot that we aren’t in Vorn anymore.” 

The words come out of my mouth easily, and it takes everything in me not to attempt to bring up what happened before our journey started. It’s only because of ten years of friendship that I’m able to hold back my thoughts for the better. 

I turn my head to the curtained window, and take a look outside as I bite into the fruit. I notice how endless and flat the green plains look, something foreign to Vorn’s forests of trees and colors. We pass by fields of corn, tomatoes, squash, and any other vegetable you can think of. The colors of the vegetables are bright and earthy, having a certain look of freshness you can only find here in Penj. Even the grass itself is a healthy green, mowed to perfection. 

The roads are flat and empty, and the most recent wagon I remember passing us by was a couple days ago. Like we planned, using the roads at the edge of Penj helped us not come into contact with anyone. Still, the scenery is beautiful despite not being at the heart of Penj. We are surrounded by continuous farms fenced in, and the sun high up in the background. I press my arms to the windowsill and breathe in the clear air. You can smell the ripe vegetables and the earthy dirt. 

If this was any other situation, the beautiful scenery would be the most pressing thing on my mind. Instead, all the thoughts of research that I need to do and plans that we still need to make keep rushing back to me. 

I look back at Nova for a second, thinking about what to say. Or rather, what I could say to make her laugh. 

“Nova, what happens if I accidentally fall out of the caravan? Like what you did back when we went on our first ride around Vorn together,” I say while looking out again, hoping for a response. 

“You still remember that?”

“Of course I do, we had to stop the caravan just to help you get back inside. Your parents were so angry because your knees were bruised for the entire week.” I smile at the memory, and I hear Nova laugh in the background. 

It isn’t the laugh that she makes when she hears something so funny that she can’t help but snort and fall over, but it’s at least something. The edge in her voice has softened ever so slightly. I pull my head back inside the caravan and close the curtains over the open window. 

“Unlike that time, if you fall out of that window we’re leaving you there until we come back on this road,” she says with another laugh as she slightly adjusts her hair. 

I smile at her, noticing how her black hair is tied in a bun over her head, springy and sleek. No hairs are out of place as per usual despite her adjustments, and her dark tawny eyes and deep umber skin shine brightly against the green of her homemade dress. Her hands itch for something to knit, and begin to tap on her thigh. Her presence could always make a room feel brighter, and she has this way of making you smile whenever she does. I haven’t seen that confident and happy presence since before our journey started. 

She opens the curtains on her side and shouts out to Chester. “Shouldn’t we change shifts? You’ve been out there for a couple hours now.” The edge in her voice returns as quickly as it departed. 

The caravan begins to turn to the side of the road, as per her command, before slowing to a stop. We hear Chester get off of his seat and open the back door to the caravan. The possible awkwardness of the conversation makes me hope that the two have talked with each other, or at least come more to terms with the situation, while I was asleep. 

“Wow, the air here is fresher than even the books describe it as,” Chester says, entering the caravan. 

Chester’s porcelain, pale skin is a bit tanned from the sun, something that he’s never had to encounter in his years as a scholar in the depths of the library. His glasses have small dents and marks on them, probably from his constant wear of them. His blonde hair is a bit ruffled from the wind, straying outside of his usual straight cut. His green eyes glance across the entire room, but there’s an air of discomfort when he looks over at Nova. 

“So the scholar enters the room, looking for his usual ink and quill,” I quickly say, hoping to break the silence while I hand him his materials from his bag. 

He sits down next to me and immediately takes a pen to scribble something on his hand before speaking again. “When we get to town, we need to buy more water for the horses. We’re on our last bottle,” he states matter-of-factly. 

“We’re also running out of food. We only really have some fruit, a couple greens, and a loaf of bread,” Nova adds on a moment later, tilting her head back to think. Their stiff tones don’t show any signs of change from last night, but at least they’re able to talk to each other now. 

I look over to Chester, trying to read what he’s scribbling on his hand. 

“Outside of a list of necessities, I was trying to re-analyze some of the research we did last night. I was thinking that we could re-read some of the sections today,” he says slowly, before looking up. “Who’s going to take the next shift with the horses?” 

Before I can speak, Nova’s already exiting the caravan. 

“Nova, I literally just slept, I can take it.” I shout to her, but she doesn’t respond and begins to rein the horses back near the caravan. I know that when she’s in a mood like that, nothing will convince her to change her mind, even though I wish I could, so I sigh and turn back to Chester. 

“Is she doing alright?” Chester asks, his tone of voice changing from matter-of-fact to worry. 

“She’s starting to relax a bit more, which is a relief. I’m assuming you guys didn’t have any new conversations while I slept.”

Chester nods and shrinks back uncomfortably, trying not to meet my gaze. 

“It wasn’t your fault-”

“But I shouldn’t have told her to do it before we were ready. And before we, I, were certain. And now we’re here, miles away from home trying to fix something that we aren’t even sure can be fixed. We have a plan for Lort, but what if it fails? We’re trying to do something that could possibly change everything and we’re not certain enough.” His words come out quickly, afraid that I’ll interrupt him. My mentor always speaks fast, but it’s never with the shame that he’s spoken with recently. “I just can’t be unsure now. We’re so close, and we don’t know enough. I need to re-read and think and be certain.” 

I want to tell him that we can fix this, that our plan will work, but the words don’t form correctly on my tongue. Maybe it’s because nothing is for certain, or maybe it’s because there is nothing I can say to cheer him up. Once the caravan starts to move, we go into a silence that neither of us can break. Chester begins to re-read his books, and I begin to re-read mine. 

It almost reminds me of the first time that I met him. He wasn’t that much older than me, but it was his position as my mentor that scared me. Or maybe it was because he embodied a position that my parents so desperately wanted me to have: an accomplished scholar and advisor to our council. 

Being a scholar in Vorn isn’t necessarily a death sentence, but it’s also not a job many people want as their sole means of living. But Chester was a special case. He was born into a family of everyday lumberjacks, but grew up to be one of Vorn’s best scholars. So great, he was put as a direct advisor to the council as soon as he turned of age. 

For my parents, who were architects and engineers in their own fields, climbing up the social ladder was always something they’ve dreamed of. Of course, being an architect is Vorn is a treasured position, and many elites come to them. But they’ve never been truly well-known in this world, and they’ve always wanted more, something that even as a child I felt whenever I was in their presence. 

As we move closer and closer to Lort, the book I’m reading doesn’t give me any more answers that I was hoping for. I look up and finally gain enough courage to break the silence. 

“Find anything interesting?” I ask, hoping for a response. 

He leaves me without an answer for a minute, a habit of his that I’ll never get used to, before responding. 

“Nothing that we don’t already know.” His voice has turned calmer now, focused on whatever he’s reading. “The monuments and their arches are billions of years old, and they’ve served the same purpose since their creation. Each monument creates a certain natural resource that is necessary for this world to function, and the arches are used as portals to transport those resources.” He flips a page before continuing. “I thought that maybe I had missed something last night, but this book doesn’t really elaborate on anything else besides the monuments’ connections to their keepers. And that’s not really what we’re looking for.” He sighs, and looks up at me. “Any luck with you?”

I shake my head. “It’s the same information. We’ve known of the monuments and their arches and their purposes since the beginning of time. They’ve weakened before, and they’re weakening now. People found a way to strengthen them, which is what we’re looking for, but for some reason that information is classified, hidden, or has just been forgotten. And it doesn’t help that the last reports of a monument being strengthened was centuries ago. For all we know, the people back then could have thought that they would never have to strengthen them again, so they just forgot it all.”

“But why?” The question comes out of Chester’s mouth harshly, and he uses a tone I barely hear from him. “Sorry,” he states a moment later, closing the book in his hand. “It’s just that the information we need seems so simple. How can we strengthen the monuments? We have some ideas for the arches, with what we discovered back at Vorn, but I don’t think that’s enough. Especially with the monuments, we have basically nothing despite how much research we’ve already done.” 

“I know. But at this point, we have no other choice but to be ok with what we don’t and what we do know. We need to be confident that we can convince the people of Lort that we mean no harm through our strengthening of their arch. We need to be certain that at least one of our ideas for the arches will work.” I look up at him. “And I have almost no doubts that it will work. Maybe we should focus more on keeping a low profile because Nova’s with us.”

He nods and rubs his eyes. I know that we both still worry, but we can’t get frustrated when we’re so close. “With Nova,” he replies, “we just need to be careful. We don’t really know what their response to her will be.” 

“Lort is supposedly the most friendly out of the three towns in Penj, so maybe they won’t be against us. Maybe the news of what happened in Vorn might not have even spread to Lort yet.” I know that these hopes are pretty out there, but I try to stay positive. 

“I doubt that. News like that travels fast, and even if they don’t recognize Nova, it’s a small town with an even smaller visitor rate. We’ll attract attention.”

“Attention isn’t always a bad thing,” I reply, before yawning. 

“We just need to be prepared for whatever could happen.”

The caravan shakes back and forth for a second as Chester and I continue to compile the facts that we know for sure. I glance at him every now and then, but any sign of anger or worry is hidden from his face. 

Stacks of books and blankets jumble inside the caravan as we move up the rocky road. I scan the inside to make sure nothing breaks or falls. The caravan itself is relatively small, with only the necessities inside it, but you can never be too sure. 

The very front of it has a makeshift kitchen, with pots and pans strewn over and inside the stove and oven. The last of our fruit hangs from the wooden shelves and cupboards above the stove and countertop, and the drawers are slightly open due to the shaking of the caravan. We usually keep a steady supply of food and water on us at all times, but naturally every now and then we need a refill. 

Towards the center are two seats that can turn into beds, and a table in the middle. Blankets and pillows lie on the top of the seats, next to both Chester and me. The beds are usually comfortable, but it’s hard to sleep and not think about home. At the very end of the caravan lies a huge bookshelf, along with all of our bags and other supplies, and another makeshift bed. Right now, most of the bags have been hauled over near the center table for research. On the ceilings are strings of lights and lanterns that can be controlled to turn on and off. 

By now, the caravan has become a sort of second home in a sense. 

Chester yawns before speaking again. “I should try to read some more.” He combs his hair back with his hands and scribbles another thing down on his hand. 

“You should try to get some sleep before you start drooling all over the books again,” I say, attempting to make him laugh. 

It works, and he chuckles softly. “You can’t let that one time go, can you?”
“I’m afraid not, good sir,” I bellow with a grand-sounding voice. “Especially when it’s happened more than one time,” I whisper. 

He snorts and closes the books and starts to put them away in a brown bag. He readjusts his circular glasses as I hand him another book to put away. 

“If I fall asleep, you need to wake me up. Or, you need to sleep too. I can’t be the only one who’s not doing anything.” He points to me in a slightly threatening way, and I wonder if he truly is okay. 

“Chester, you’re doing everything by being here. Besides, I just woke up. I’ll probably work on making dinner until Nova stops the caravan. Don’t worry about it, and just sleep.”

He smiles at me and begins to take off his glasses and pull out the couch near the bookshelf to make a small bed. He reads over the notes he wrote on his hand before tugging a blanket over his body and turning on his left side. He falls asleep almost immediately, and I hope that he doesn’t go through the same restless sleep that the three of us have been having since the beginning of our journey. 

I walk over to the kitchen carefully, and open up all the cupboards to see my options. As I begin to slice pieces of bread, my mind wanders back to Nova. Nova, who’s never been one to complain or intercede or even to argue against something. Nova, who always bottles stuff in until it all comes crashing down on her. I’ve known her for such a long time, and she’s always been the same way. 

When I first met her, we were both kids, accidentally running into each other in the Vorn marketplace in the central city. My parents went there every day to buy local supplies. Her parents went there every day to talk to the Council. They would leave Nova at the marketplace with some money and a pat on the head before leaving to work. We’d always spot each other near the same stalls, and eventually a sort of friendship was born. Back then, I had no idea who her parents wanted her to grow up to be. 

I eventually learned though, when the news that a new keeper was being chosen spread. Apparently all of Nova’s parents’ visits to the Council hadn’t been for nothing, as they were trying to convince the Council that their daughter would be the one for the job. 

I still remember the day when I found out, when the face of the new keeper looked awfully familiar to the face I saw everyday at the marketplace. I didn’t see her again for a while, but we kept in contact through letters. Eventually, when I moved to the main city to be mentored by Chester, we saw each other again. 

I remember fondly when we’d share our studies with each other. Hers on how to be a proper keeper and take care of Vorn’s monument, and mine on how to research properly. She’d light up about her books and scrolls, but start panicking whenever she forgot the name of a town or its purpose. She always took studying more seriously than actually living. 

But it’s weird how fast time flies. Years ago we’d eat this same meal near a fireplace, absorbed in our research. But now we’re here, in the middle of the road going to a town to convince its people of something that means so much more than any other responsibility that we’ve ever had before. 

The sun sets quickly, and once its rays completely vanish from the skyline, Nova stops the caravan on the side of the road to eat dinner. I hear the horses getting tied down, and the caravan’s curtains blowing in the wind. 

I look out the window to see almost complete darkness. The only light inside is from the lanterns on our caravan, and the only light outside is from the stars and the distant farms. It’s peaceful, and I take a moment to breathe. In Vorn, someone or something is always making noise outside, and some event is always occurring. 

“Hey, what’s for dinner?” Nova asks as she walks into the caravan. 

I put a finger to my lips and point to Chester, and she nods and quiets her voice in response. We both know how hard it is for Chester to sleep after traveling with him for so long, and even Nova has some base respect for him in these moments. 

“I made some soup with bread. We now only have a couple more apples until we reach Lort. How far away is it?” I make my way towards the main table with two bowls and two spoons in my hands. 

“Probably only a couple more hours away. We need to finalize the plan tomorrow morning before we get there, though,” she responds while taking a spoon and beginning to eat. 

I know better than to disrupt the conversation with something about Chester, so I keep quiet and instead talk about the least controversial thing: the weather. “It’s pretty peaceful here, isn’t it?” I say in between slurps. 

“I find it jarring to be honest. It’s too quiet and too empty. I don’t know, maybe I’m just getting homesick.” She looks over her shoulder and rubs her arms before speaking again. “I didn’t expect it to be so different here. I mean, I’ve learned about all of the cities from my lessons, but it doesn’t compare to actually being in them. When we entered the outskirts of Vorn, it was like walking through nothingness. And then when we entered Penj, it was like walking through fields of grass and earth and life.”

“Is that a good thing?”

She sighs. “I don’t know. I’ve never really been outside of Vorn so it’s obvious that I’d have a bias there, but I don’t necessarily dislike it here. It’s just different I guess.”

“That’s just how the world is now. Kinda crazy to think about what it was like when there weren’t deserted lands and all of the cities were connected to each other.”

“Part of the reason why we’re doing any of this though, right? To try to get back that time before we lose even more than we already have.”

“Yeah.” It’s the only response I can think of before Nova finishes up her soup, and starts washing the plates in the sink. I give her my bowl and begin to pull out the seats into beds. For a moment, the only sounds that I can hear are the sink water and the blankets and pillows being fluffed up. I think back to our times by the fireplace, laughing about some inside joke between the two of us. 

I look up at the Nova in front of me now. I look at the dark circles underneath her eyes and the way she shakes her head every now and then to remind herself not to fall asleep. If it were up to me, I would’ve given her a better life than the one she has now. Given her another responsibility outside of being keeper of a monument. 

Nova finishes putting all of the plates away moments later, and then sits on her bed. She undoes her bun and lets her hair fall loose, and then pulls it into a hair wrap for the night. I’ve always admired how elegantly her hands move, probably from how often she knits. 

We spend the next couple moments doing our usual night routines, before we whisper good night to each other. Once we turn off the light, I turn over and pull my head underneath my covers. Pressing my body into a little ball, I try to find some comfort in the slightly thin blankets and stiff bedding. I try to stop myself from missing the comfort of my home, and the certainty of it all. 

I think back to Nova and her tired eyes. To Chester and his ashamed expression. If it were up to me in any way, I would’ve never made Chester feel guilty about his one mistake and I would’ve never exiled Nova from Vorn.