TO SPREAD THE WINGS IV: The Three Brothers

K-Town, the Korean enclave in the city, was located Northeast; a small portion of Asia that welcomed visitors to its streets, full of bright and multicoloured signs, upon walking past a stylised stone and wood pagoda in red and blue. Several thousands of people lived there, and although the main and best-known buildings occupied the front row, venturing the messy narrow streets of the central area could turn into an odyssey for anyone unfamiliar with the layout.

That could perfectly be Mìcheal's case, who had just emerged from the bowels of the earth with his camouflage uniform: his blond hair under a cap, hands in his pockets, dark glasses, a long-sleeved blue t-shirt, despite the heat, and baggy jeans. It had been more than two years since the young mad hadn't set foot on those grey paving stones that immediately brought back memories... 'Not many people know the land besides the pagoda is special. You have to cross it carefully stepping on the light-coloured stones; if you step on the dark ones, even if just with a toe, you'll wake up the Beast of the Underworld, and it will pierce you with its somnolent eye whose gaze goes through the earth. Then you'll find yourself in a fine mess; the Beast, who normally bestows good luck through the dreams which it feeds on, will stretch and search for something more substantial to eat... and will devour the luck that should be yours.' 'Right, and I'm buying that cause I'm a pipsqueak and a jerk...' 'Up to you; I dare you to catch me stepping on the dark stones. Why do you think I'm a lucky guy?'

Munro smiled wistfully as his feet unconsciously stepped on the appropriated squares. His eyes, hidden behind the glasses, displayed a very similar melancholy when they gazed at the pagoda that marked the border between his ordinary world and a more exotic one. That had been his closest experience to travelling abroad...

Everything was more or less as he recalled it; enough to find the place he was looking for, not very far away from the blue and red pagoda and the road of paving stones that several years ago had sealed his fate.

K-Town had many restaurants, shops full of local colour, all kind of wholesaler's and also establishments that sold exclusive and expensive goods. Behind the black marble and bullet-proof glass of that particular shop, some exquisite pieces of traditional jewellery were displayed, along with items made of jade, malachite, turquoise and other semi-precious stones. Yet the main reason that made it sought after by the experts was its stock of Asian antiques. The catalogue wasn't very large, but really select, and they offered moving heaven and earth in search of their customers' commissions. And last, but not least: the young twenty-seven years old manager, back after three years of absence, was a never ending source of knowledge, spoke several languages with admirable fluency and his charms were matchless. More than a female customer had cherished laying her hands on something else than whatever jewel or delicate item she were about to buy... And on top of everything else he was the owner's son, and so handsome...

The cult, charming, wealthy and attractive manager was hastily leaving his office, because he had received a strange message from someone who wished to see him 'to continue the conversation they had started yesterday night'. He seemed to be out of place among so many antiques, with his modern suit and his pearl grey Prada shirt. After he crossed the stone arch at the end of the corridor, his gaze wandered across the establishment and quickly stopped on the other thing that was out of place in that atmosphere: the inhibited young man in dark glasses and cap, whose sleeves were so long they almost covered his fingertips... He was rendered breathless.

'Mìcheal...'

When he reacted, his lips became a thin, tense line. He whispered to the lady in charge he shouldn't be disturbed under any circumstances, grabbed the boy's forearm with good care of keeping the fabric between their skins, and dragged him through the same corridor he had crossed before. His family had prepared upstairs an apartment for him that was currently empty; that's where he headed to with his guest, and once they were inside he made sure the door was locked. Then he turned around and stared at him, still surprised.

Munro removed his glasses and slowly slipped his cap off of his head, scattering his blond hair upon his shoulders. His blue eyes finally dared to face Jang's dark, slanted gaze.

'Ho-Jun...'

The tall Korean hadn't said a word yet; he was still studying the attractive young man, so hard to recognise, which the sixteen years-old boy he had left behind when he left had turned into. At least the aquamarine eyes were still the same: those big, beautiful eyes, surrounded by silky golden eyelashes. His expression, however, was different...

'Does Faulkner know you are here?' Mìcheal shook his head and tucked a blond lock behind his hear. Such a casual gesture captured his companion attention, who followed it as if it were a show; and also managed to make him angry, without an apparent reason. He covered the short distance between them and firmly held his elbows.

'They shouldn't see you here, Mìcheal! Fraternising with your enemy...? You should have been more discreet! Because now...'

'I... I didn't have your phone... and thought you could be in this place, and...'

Jang clenched his teeth, dragged the younger man towards the closest chair and roughly pushed him down. The latter stifled a whimper and shifted, as if he had been forced to take a seat on a bed of nails.

'What's wrong?' asked his puzzled host.

'It's... Owen wasn't very happy when he saw you were back... even less when I told him I just wanted to greet you... He...' the boy lowered his head, in shame; 'through the whole night he...'

The dark gaze hardened in the extreme; the harmonious voice became sharp like a razor as he said:

'Isn't enough that I have to see you with him, Mìcheal? Must you come to torture me as well?'

The blond looked up, without understanding. His expression was so full of angst that Jang instantly regretted his words; but he couldn't get rid of the frustration he was feeling, because he wasn't even able of holding him in his arms and calming him down without being gripped by the fear of hurting him. Gathering all his self-control he squatted in front of the young man and placed his palms on the knees wearing those loose jeans.

'I'm sorry, Mìcheal; it's not your fault at all. But it is so hard for me that...'

'No, I'm an idiot. When I met you I used to tell you everything, and it seems my retarded mind got stuck in the mood of those months we spent together, three years ago. As if you didn't carry enough on your shoulders... I... I didn't think what I was doing as I came. I'm leaving.'

He made as if to stand up but Jang stopped him; he firmly kept his hands on his knees and his eyes on his face, as if he were memorising his features.

'Three years without seeing you. I don't want you to leave; I assure you that's the last thing I want.' The youngest swallowed; his hand, wrapped in that long sleeve, softly brushed the one resting on his leg. 'Mìcheal, does he treat you well? Does he hurt you?'

'No.' He shook his head. 'He does everything in his power to please me. The tough nut to crack is me... but he devotes himself to make me happy...'

'Then why don't you look like you are?'

Munro didn't answer at once. The hand covered with blue cotton fabric kept absently stroking his companion's one.

'Cause I realised this is no joke,' he answered finally, 'that you and me are in opposing sides and sooner or later you'll have to...'

He couldn't go on, just looked down again. Jang carefully moved his hand along his forearm and caressed it.

'Do you believe I'd ever raise my hand to you?'

'You have no choice...'

'Why do you think I left? Partly because I couldn't stand the idea of watching him with... Although that wasn't the main reason; the only thing I wanted was avoiding conflict between our two factions. I've been busy all this time; so busy I could almost avoid having to think. And suddenly I felt the urge to come back... My people pressurised me, blood called me... I guess we can't change what we are. And I must confess the possibility of seeing you again' his hand pressed more intensely, 'never stopped haunting me.'

'And I disappointed you...'

'Disappointed me?' The Asian scoffed, his lips curved into a melancholic smile. 'Faulkner is a bastard who doesn't deserve his luck.' The younger man looked at him, slightly alarmed. 'However, and since fate decided things would be like this, I'll have to adapt to the present circumstances. No, we can't change what we are... but Mìcheal, I could never harm you. And if all your people were wiped off the face of the earth and only you were left, you have my word I'd think of a way to protect you.'

Munro sighed almost imperceptibly. He didn't like to get lost in ominous visions of the future, when the only thing he wanted was enjoying that warmth he had missed so much.

'The first months after you left I used to come to look for you. I escaped whenever I could and wandered around here, carefully stepping on the light-coloured paving stones cause I didn't want to jinx it. I thought it was my fault you were angry, that you wouldn't see me yet but you'd forgive me in the end. That Marked Day... I always blamed the Beast, do you know? The Beast of the Underworld devoured my luck, made Owen find me first, and I lost the best friend I'd ever had. I'd have given anything for things to remain unchanged... and the cause was, I was convinced, that I had been distracted and had accidentally stepped on one of the dark squares when I came that day.'

Jang couldn't believe his ears. That the boy remembered one of the hundred fables he had told him to entertain him; that he blamed himself for the way Faulkner had initiated him, the way he had made him spread his wings; that he thought he deserved to be censured at all...

'Ah, no, don't worry, Ho-Jun,' the young man smiled, guessing what was crossing his companion's mind, 'I know I was a naive fool. I soon realised it was pointless to pin the blame on myself, and leaving was the noblest thing you could have done. Then I stopped coming. I wished to see you again, but at the same time I was afraid of your return.'

'Sometimes I wonder how things would have been if that day you had found me first. Very different, I suppose: you were my friend, my older brother, you didn't see me the same way Owen did. He always tells me he felt attracted to me from the beginning; you, on the other hand...'

'I think you're acting lightly, assuming I possessed altruistic feelings I don't think I had, Mìcheal.'

Jang stood up and faced the blond, their faces so close they almost touched. The youngest's nostalgic expression turned into a deep, slightly amazed look at the eyes that seemed to pierce him. The Asian slipped the other hand along his arm, up to the shoulder, and glided down his chest and side; always careful, always composed, making sure the fabric would always stand between them... but shouting his desire.

He froze suddenly, breathed in and moved away.

'Do you know how hard it's to accept I can't even touch you? I believed it was difficult then, but now...' He got rid of his jacket and threw it indifferently on the low table, loosening his tie then and flopping down on the big ivory-coloured leather sofa. 'I never saw you as a little brother, if that's what you think. I longed for the day you'd ripen; in that regard I wasn't better than Faulkner, sorry to disappoint you. Well, it doesn't matter any more...'

Mìcheal got up as well and walked slowly until he stood in front of him. Ho-Jun was even more attractive than he remembered. Despite being more or less the same age as Owen, and just as tall as him, he looked several years younger; they were undoubtedly different. His features were more delicate; his eyelashes were long, and so thick they seemed to delineate his eyes with a jet black line; the arch of his upper lip was pronounced and sensual; some locks had escaped from his immaculately combed fringe and swayed over his forehead. In their own way, both Alpheh were a feast for the eyes.

'And now that I'm one of the Blacks, and nobody but Owen can lay a hand on me... you want nothing to do with me?' dared to ask Munro; he looked like a confused child, again the naive teenager Jang had once met. Most probably no one else had witnessed that side of the young man that many nights removed his t-shirt on top of a platform and swung his hips in such an explicit way, until his body was covered in sweat.

'Don't be unfair, please...'

'I know what I'm asking can be selfish or childish, Ho-Jun, but I wished... I wished things would be the same as before you left.'

'That's impossible, Mìcheal.'

'And can't we be friends again? Even if just from time to time... I'd be careful and discreet... we'd never talk about what we shouldn't... you're... I missed you so much...'

Jang raised his tortured eyes towards him. How the hell was he supposed to refuse? God... he was dying for holding him and stroking that messy hair; and he was also dying for throwing him on the sofa and stripping him, and...

Instead of all that he found himself saying:

'Sure... I'll do what I can, promise. I'll give you my private line and you'll be able to reach me every time you want. But you'll have to give me your word you'll avoid getting into trouble.'

Upon watching that hopeful smile on the beautiful face, the Korean sighed.

'I'll order some food, because I expect you'll have some news to tell me about yourself. I have no idea what you prefer nowadays; I doubt those hamburgers with jalapeño and special Mexican sauce are still to your liking...'

'Hamburgers with jalapeño and Mexican sauce sound great.' Munro's smile became broader.

'Can you believe it? We're in K-Town and this fussy gentleman makes me order hamburgers with Mexican seasoning...' grouched Jang. Still he was also smiling as he looked for the telephone number using his smartphone and dialled.

Lunch was really pleasant, as the Asian had to admit. They didn't even bother to move to the dining table: Mìcheal threw some cushions on the carpet and carefully accommodated himself there, telling his companion as much as he could about his life of the last years. Jang frowned upon hearing he had left the Conservatory; in his opinion, it was an unforgivable waste of talent, and the boy couldn't even soothe him when he told him he still played at home.

As for him, there wasn't much he could speak about that wasn't related to the subject they weren't allowed to touch. He had travelled around the world; those were the advantages of having a wealthy family who preferred their son to lazy around abroad, as they called it, instead of doing it openly in Seoul. The antiques were just one of their many investments, and an excuse to allow Ho-Jun to establish himself in that city and pretend he had a serious job. Truth be told they had to admit the young man was extremely good when dealing with customers; sales had dropped drastically during his absence...

And it was delightful indeed to listen to his soft and mellow voice as he related the story of each piece and praised its virtues; if ever there was a modern version of those story tellers that wandered from village to village in the past, amusing their bored inhabitants in exchange of some coins, that had to be him. And the magic effect took place not as much because of his words, but of the way he pronounced them, his body language, his voice inflections. Young Mìcheal had never grown tired of listening to him when they met; he was happy to know that hadn't changed.

He had approached him little by little as he talked, and had ended sitting besides him, his side leaning against the front of the sofa, his cheek resting on his hand, his elbow on the seat. Jang looked at him out of the corner of his eye and sometimes had problems to concentrate. There was barely nothing left of the youngster he had been, but one thing was true: if anything, it had to be right there, right then, staring at him through those big aquamarine eyes.

Munro's hands landed on his knees. He seemed to be expectant, as a hungry bird waiting for some crumbs.

'Tell me the story, Ho-Jun,' he asked, as if he should know what he was talking about. 'The story of the Three Brothers.'

The Korean was startled.

'You must know it already, Mìcheal,' he said softly.

'Yes, but Owen... he just told me the short version; I guess he keeps his gift of the gab for court. I wished to hear it from you. Please... please, Ho-Jun...'

Jang's voice might work wonders, but his young companion's one wasn't far behind... He nodded, and the pleased boy placed his forearm on his thighs and leaned his cheek on it; and exact copy of the pose he used to adopt years ago... The incredulous man looked at him: did he have any idea of the torment that supposed? Those blond tresses spread over his legs, and he, unable to lay a finger on them... He was about to complain when a thought struck him. Was that a torture? Maybe; but that boy hadn't been able to touch anyone else but his lover in all that time. If It was hard for Jang, wouldn't it be worse for someone who had to wear unnecessary layers of fabric to become isolated from every physical contact? The consideration calmed him down at once; he reached for his back and gently placed his hand on it.

'The story goes back to a time nobody remembers, or rather, nobody ever heard about...' Munro tilted his head slightly and gave him a sidelong glance. ' What? Did you expect me to start with a 'once upon a time...'? I might well have done it. Sometimes I'm firmly convinced it happened thousands of years ago... which is disturbing yet appropriated, I suppose. A time in which everything was simpler, and money wasn't even invented...

As for the place, I'm afraid I have to say the same. The city where we stay is irrelevant for us, you know it. There's only one thing whose location is essential, and it keeps changing every time. Although we'll get to that point of the story in due time; suffice it to say it happened in a place inhabited by men, possibly before our era.

Three brothers lived in that unknown spot: Gelak, Beland and Nurand. A possible explanation to the fact us Alpheh never gather and amiably converse about ancient story may be nobody knows either who was the eldest, or the youngest, and deciding it would surely make up come to blows, Marked Day or not.

The three of them were young, but they had lost their parents. They lived together in a rather humble house outside their village, right in the centre of a valley. The settlement lay on the shores of a lake, and it was beautiful to see the reflection of the adobe and stone houses in the water; when water is scarce, its sole presence makes the whole landscape a pure wonder... That's a maxim, by the way, that applies to everything.

An oasis in a valley surrounded by arid crags that would go red-hot under the sun... not the best place to live, though when everything you know is earth and sand and bare rocks, you wouldn't trade it for the world.

Even if the nights were very cold, the brothers liked to walk along the lakeshore and silently watch the brightness of the stars trapped down there, and the moon, with its different faces. There was a full one right in the middle of the water, and it was difficult taking their eyes off it, because it shone like silver on a black velvet mantle. And suddenly one of them pointed at the reflection, very excited.

'There!' he shouted, 'Can't you see? There's a mountain around the moon in the water!'

'What are you making up?' disdainfully asked another one. 'The image of the crags in the lake can't be seen now...'

'It's there, I tell you! How comes you can't see? It's a perfect mountain! It's just that...' The first one looked back with puzzlement, as if there were something he couldn't understand. 'It isn't reflected properly...'

'Now that's funny,' remarked the one that hadn't spoken so far in a mocking tone, for it was obvious his brother had been drinking some fermented plant in excess. 'And how should the perfect mountain that only you can see be reflected?'

'It makes no sense,' he kept explaining, ignoring the mockery, 'because the feet of the mountains are wide and the tops are narrow,' and upon talking he stretched his arms in front of him and formed a base-down triangle, 'and when they are reflected in the water you see them upside down. Instead... the wide part of the mountain around the moon is down... as if it were sunken.'

'Stop talking nonsense. There's nothing there, you must have drunk too much.'

'That's not true! I can see it as clearly as the silvery disc... Look carefully, the moon is right in the centre... look!'

The last speaker nudged the second one, encouraging him to continue the jokes, but he didn't pay him attention. He had been watching the dark surface for a while, with his eyebrows knit and his mouth open, for he had forgotten to keep it closed. His appearance was so comical that the other one felt tempted to include him in the mockery, but before he could say a thing...

'It's true... I can see it as well. It's a mountain on its base, but it isn't resting on anything; it seems to be floating...'

The third brother started to grow impatient, suspecting they had agreed to play a joke on him. And a very stupid one, it had to be said. There was nothing there. Nothing at all.

But...

'It's... it's true... I see a three-sided silhouette... and it's true it looks like a mountain, though... the sides are too straight. It's more like... a pyramid. But... how comes there's a pyramid underwater?'

The three remained silent for a moment. A pyramid, floating on its base, the face of the moon shining in its centre... as a giant eye. Did they all drink too much of those strong beverages? And were they sharing their deliriums? It was difficult to understand; any sensible person would have pointed out it was very unlikely, a pyramid appearing at the bottom of the lake, where that very same morning there had been none; as sure as the day follows the night.

And you see, one of them felt the urge to look up at the sky...

A pyramid at the bottom of the lake... almost impossible; an inverted one, on the other hand, floating over it, wasn't almost impossible: it was sheer madness. The three stood at a time, as if they had discovered they had been sitting on embers or scorpions for a while, and started to jump around and point there. How was it possible that nobody else could see it? It was enormous!

It was a show worth seeing. The moonlight illuminated it and its shape was perfectly outlined. It certainly looked like a pyramid, formed by rows of gargantuan, smooth and shiny ashlars. Its visible faces displayed many dark shadows, like windows, and the lower apex was huge and curiously transparent, because the silvery light passed through. Whatever lay on its base remained hidden, if there was anything at all... and yet they could swear there was some bulk slightly sticking out... nothing but a black spot against a dark sky.

A rider passed by, a neighbour quietly returning to the village. The brothers yelled incoherent sentences and since they couldn't tame their tongues, they chose to point at the sky. The rider looked at them, then up; his eyes finally returned to their previous position and he shrugged. They couldn't believe it... was he blind? Was he an imbecile? The guy got tired of watching those youngsters waving their arms about like lunatics. He gestured to indicate madness and resumed his way.

The same happened with a hunter, and with a couple that had come to whisper sweet nothings to each other. They had to accept no one but them could see it. And they'd had to shut up before making the whole village distrust them or, even worse, throw them away with stones... But... it was so beautiful...! It was so incredible...! It was hard to assume they wouldn't be able to share something like that with anyone.

As that couldn't be helped, the next step in their line of thought was logical enough: how would they manage to reach it?

Jang paused to drink a sip of water; he reached for the table, taking good care of not touching the young man who was still resting on his lap, now raising his head to investigate why he had stopped. The way in which Mìcheal always listened to him, without any interruptions, without a move that could disturb him... that hadn't changed either. He smiled, and the desire to wrap his arms around him became so overwhelming that he had to look away and pick up the thread of the story to distract his mind from such impulses.

'How would they manage to reach it?' repeated the Asian. 'It was an apparently impossible task. Climbing the highest mountain wouldn't help them to brush the apex of that colossal structure with their fingertips. To fulfil their wish they'd need to grow wings, like a bird...

In the middle of those considerations, they barely noticed a figure that had stopped besides the lake and looked now at them, now at the sky. He motioned like that a good number of times until the brothers realised that his eyes always returned to the point where the pyramid was... that he could actually see it. They renewed their rejoicing, asking him if he had ever encountered such a prodigy before. He simply smiled, barely curving his lips, and took his time before saying:

'As you have been the only ones able to see what many looked at, you deserve a reward. You are free, each of you, to request a favour, any favour, and it will be granted. Speak.'

They looked at each other. Was he pulling their legs? And if he wasn't, what power would bestow their desires? Was he a demigod that had descended to earth? And yet he looked like a common man, quietly staring at the full moon... One of them exclaimed with a complacent smile:

'If your words are true, then grant us wings that allow us to reach the pyramid, for we can't conceive any other way of doing it but imitating birds.'

His brothers snickered and agreed; but the stranger nodded solemnly and set his eyes on the next one. That look had a curious effect on him: he didn't feel like laughing any more... although he still couldn't believe his offering, of course. However, he gave some thought to the subject before saying:

'To earn our living we are engaged in hunting. There isn't anything I wished more than a bow, so light and strong that no piece would ever escape again, and a quiver that provided endless arrows, as wood is scarce and it is hard to produce them.'

The other two agreed once more, with a smile; and once more, that man gravely bowed his head. And his gaze travelled to the third one, who stared back, open-mouthed. All the mood for jokes was gone.

'I... I wished to possess the ability of becoming invisible before the eyes of men and animals. To hunt, to hide when I don't want to be found, to run away from danger... to see while remaining unseen, like that pyramid in the sky...'

The brothers didn't bother to corroborate it. They just looked at the stranger, expectant, wondering if there was some truth in all that story. He nodded again and said:

'Go home. Tomorrow will be a special day, and you'll see your requests awarded. Once you are willing, you'll know where to find me.'

The man walked away. There weren't so sure about him, after that conversation... To begin with, he was able to see what awaited up there. And there was such seriousness in his words... it was food for thought. They decided to return home and let the night pass.

And the next day...

The next day was the first Marked Day in history. What can I say that you don't know? Neither men nor animals were able to see them, unless they allowed it. The stranger kept his word... And not only about that: they certainly got the lightest and strongest bow ever held by human hands... and an endless stock of arrows. As for the third request...

You know it as well, Mìcheal. Grey wings grew on Gelak's back; white on Beland's; black on Nurand's...

Lost in the middle of so many prodigies, it was difficult to reason clearly. Do you think they rushed to fly towards their destination? No; they remained there a long time, testing their new talents among mankind. I must state, with a heavy heart, that they didn't do it in the wisest and most prudent way, because they were young and that incredible power got out of hand... The ability to fly, to be invisible during certain days, the possession of such a mighty weapon... There was no need of being very sharp to imagine they used it at the expense of their kind, and the initial scruples waned more and more... until there was no desire they didn't try to satisfy, with no care about consequences whatsoever. Life became easy... and boring.

And their eyes returned to the pyramid. It seemed quite simple to reach, now that they counted on their new gifts. They took flight, and it turned out to be more faraway than they expected... yet it finally got within their grasp, and with a last flap of the splendid wings they landed on one of those windows. They appeared to be small from below, but they were in fact so tall that they had to tilt their heads back to be able to watch the lintel. Since they still needed to find an entrance, the brothers decided to rest.

I won't say it was easy. They were forced to fly all the way up to the colossal upper platform, so enormous they couldn't contemplate it all from one angle, and search with determination until they discovered a way in. But before that they could admire what there was on top, that thing they only guessed from the ground. They had no means of knowing what it was, not until much later: a translucent hemisphere, as big as all their village altogether... Yet another prodigy among many.

They went in. Can you guess what was the first thing they found? The stranger; they got the impression he knew the precise moment in which they'd show up. Something curious, if you think about it... Although, in my opinion, there comes a time in which a mind, saturated with so many marvels, stops getting surprised at every little thing it witnesses.

'Welcome to the palace,' simply said the man.

 

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