The Call of the Trumpet

Joint post by Omni and MDMan

Finding a fire, Ch’Truta gazed into the flames. They reminded him of Islana’s fiery red hair. He wanted to be near her. To tell her the way he felt.

Was he crazy? Perhaps, it was the weight of leadership and the dangers of the swamp being lifted from Ch’Truta’s shoulders to bring him to realize it had been a long time he had been intimate with another. Perhaps this had caused Ch’Truta to develop feelings for the one whom he counseled.

Ch’Truta was not aware of what the spirits’ mind would be. Would they approve of Ch’Truta loving one outside of his brood? Outside any brood following Uctilo’rhu? He needed to seek them.

Yet, he no longer had the ingredients for the solution which brought Ch’Truta the visions. It had been a long journey to Desdén. He still had vials of the sand vipers’ venom, which he had been drinking in small doses to become immune to its effects. He had also heard of a plant growing in the desert regions. If he were to make a solution from what be available, Ch’Truta couldn’t guarantee the same results.

“Do you know of a plant called Daemon’s Trumpet?” he asked.

Silina, momentarily drawn away from her reflections by Ch’Truta’s question, considered his inquiry. "Yes," she responded, her voice tinged with caution. "A toxic plant with gorgeous plumes. What of it?"

Ch’Truta wasn’t certain she would understand. He didn’t know how they made contact with their gods. The Sisters? Through Sister Locust? It was the only way Ch’Truta could know the path he was to take. He seemed as a traveler without a sunstone, lost, indecisive, slow to act.

“To make contact with the swamp spirits,” Ch’Truta began to explain, “I first make a solution from plants and venoms from the swamp. When I drink it, the solution places me in a trance. That’s when I am able to make contact.”

He took a deep breath inward, inhaling the aroma of the burning wood of the fire. “I have used the last of my inventory from tue swamp. On the way across the desert, I have collected sand viper venom. As far as I know, the Deamon’s Trumpet would be the nearest substitute. If I make a solution of those mixed with cactus juice and pulp, I’m hoping it will have the same effect.”

Hope was majorly emphasized here. He had no idea what the results would be. Would he see the swamp spirits? Or, since the ingredients were taken from the desert, would the new solution bring him to their gods? It was a risk Ch’Truta was willing to explore.

Silina listened to Ch’Truta describe the special ingredient for the draught of his ritual to commune with the spirits. The concept was foreign to her, and the mention of using Daemon’s Trumpet, a plant known for its lethal properties, only deepened her concern.

"Risky," she remarked dryly, the corner of her mouth twitching in a semblance of a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "The desert of skulls can be unforgiving. And the plant’s poison is more likely to make you sleep with the spirits."

Her gaze shifted back to the fire, reflecting on his willingness to risk death for a chance at guidance. She had thought, a flicker of dark humor crossing her mind, ‘Perhaps the Daemon's Trumpet will spare me from hearing further about the swamp and its spirits and dark god.’ But this thought she kept to herself, aware of the seriousness of Ch’Truta's quest.

It had become Ch’Truta’s nature to keep in contact with the spirits. Now, a void was in the center of his being. Ch’Truta would do what he needed to fulfill what he had considered his purpose.

“Unless you know of another way,” Ch’Truta sincerely suggested. “How do those in your way commune with the spirits?”

The more Silina thought about it, the more she was beginning to think that Ch'Truta just had a mired mind, rather than actually speaking with spirits. The man was seriously taking poisons to do this?

"We don't... though I supposed I have heard of such practices that make one see and hear things that aren't really there." She thought back on the draught she had taken during the trials. Was it the same?

"Men and women in wilds, but not the Ozainae... to my knowledge. I have heard of a few bonecasters among our people, but no... we don't commune with spirits."

To Ch’Truta, lacking the wisdom of the spirits was fruitless. They gave guidance and direction. They had led him here. That was something of value.

“So tomorrow?” Ch’Truta probed with raised brows. “You shall help me find the plant? Then, I shall seek the spirits.”

Silina sat back from the flames, considering the man's proposal. She found herself curious about what the alleged spirits would say?

"You are a strange man, Ch'Truta... but I will help you. This will be interesting at least," she smiled genuinely.

Ch’Truta returned the smile. In a way, he was glad Silina was not a foe. It would have been a shame for Ch’Truta to destroy such a woman.

“Now,” Ch’Truta suggested, “we must rest for our quest tomorrow.”

“Yes, rest well Ch’Truta,” Silina said as she parted.

As their evening dialogue came to an end, Silina enlisted the help of her Aroka companions to provide Ch'Truta with proper sleeping arrangements. Her people quickly set up a tent, offering Ch'Truta a space to rest and ready himself for the forthcoming day.

Under the cool cloak of the desert night, Silina and Ch'Truta withdrew to their individual tents. Unbeknownst to Ch’Truta, hidden in the shadows, the observant eyes that had silently monitored their encounter since the butterfly tree quietly departed, melting into the obscurity of the night.