Refugees Page 10

  His thoughts were interrupted every now and then by his net slowing and being rerouted in another direction. Periodically he would be unloaded from one line to the next. This was a little unnerving, especially since he couldn’t see, but it did not frighten him. In fact, it had been much more frightening when he traveled like this the first time, since he was so far above the forest floor, that looking down made him dizzy. This way, while blindfolded, he just relaxed as much as possible and let himself be treated like a sack of supplies.

  Eventually, the net cage in which he dangled came to a complete stop. He could hear two flier men talking with each other, but of course, he did not know what they were saying. Metlan stretched his legs until his feet felt solid wood beneath them. The men helped him step out of the net, and removed his blindfold. They even removed the vines that bound his hands. Then the net was lifted away, leaving the two men alone on the platform with him. They were unarmed, as was he. After all, what could he do to them? If he tried to attack them, they would simply push him to his death, as there were no rails on the platform. If he tried to push them over the edge, they would glide to safety. Not to mention that they had claws. Here in the treetops, the fliers really had all the advantages. His strategy was to be as submissive and charming as possible while he learned as much as he could about their secret forest city. Perhaps they would even adopt him into their village.

  Once the men completed their duties, they leapt off the platform and glided to a nearby tree. Metlan watched with grudging admiration. The closest thing he could compare to what they must be feeling was when he was riding Pergassi and she leapt across a ravine. It made him feel like he could conquer the world, with her powerful muscles flexed below him. But Metlan’s weight prevented Pergassi from leaping more than her own length. It appeared that these fliers, with their ability to glide, could leap almost the width of a river. Now that would be exhilarating.

  Thankfully, Pergassi had escaped any harm. Metlan had taken on this quest only after confirming that the fliers did not harm the cats except in self-defense. At least that information appeared to be correct, unlike almost everything else. From the time he joined the scouts, he kept finding clues that these were creatures of high intelligence. What dumb beast sets traps? As he learned more, he started to refine his plans. He had carefully trained Pergassi for her role. Still, Metlan would never forget how shocked he was when he first heard the flier girl speak to him in his own language. Fortunately, he was given enough time between when he was captured and the council meeting to devise a strategy for dealing with these people.

  He realized that he may have been foolhardy to step into that trap. When he was hanging in the net in the trees, surrounded by armed fliers, he definitely had second thoughts. They could have just killed him there. But, if these fliers shot cats only in self-defense, it made sense that they were not ruthless killers of men. It had been a huge gamble, but so far it had paid off.

  When he threw down his weapons, he had kept the chunks of flier meat in one of the pouches hanging from his belt. This was another big chance that he took. He had figured that even if they found it, although they might be repulsed, they would not have known for sure that it was flier meat since it was chopped into small chunks. As he was lifted across the forest, he had carefully dropped the chunks of the meat from the net, until it was gone. This left a trail for Pergassi to follow to find him. He knew she would come back for him, and that when she did she would follow the trail of treats to wherever he was taken. Now, he was glad to hear her trills far below, at the base of the tree on which his platform sat.

  For short periods, Pergassi would wander off to find food which was plentiful on the forest floor, but she would faithfully return to circle the tree on which Metlan was kept prisoner.

  Now all he had to do was figure out something to use to write the messages that he wanted her to deliver to his tribe. Perhaps he could get that flier interpreter to give him some writing materials, to pass the time. He chuckled to himself when he thought of the flier translator. What a sucker!

  Metlan took the cover off the wooden container that had been left on his prison floor and looked inside. It looked like a type of bread with nuts. He sniffed it and a sweet aroma filled his nostrils. A bite confirmed what his nose had told him: this was delicious. It could almost make him forget that he longed for a good hunk of meat to chew on. Metlan drank some of the lukewarm tea, again delighting in the sweet spicy flavor. Then he moved to the center of the platform, and feeling quite the prince, covered his body with the soft, smooth cloth the fliers had provided, and settled in for a nap. He shifted around a little bit at first, concerned that he might roll off the platform to his death. Yet in a short time, Metlan fell into a peaceful sleep, knowing that Pergassi waited for him far below.

  Metlan dreamed he was riding Pergassi across a sea of low grass. As he looked to the horizon, the wind blew ripples through the dried grasses, creating the sensation of waves. He was riding toward a large flat topped rock in the shape of a giant reclining cave lion. As he got closer, he looked up at the top of the rock and saw a throne in the air. Closer and closer they rode, with Pergassi gaining speed, her muscles rippling like the grass. He urged her forward. As they neared the rock, Metlan saw a ravine open up between him and the rock. Instinctively, Pergassi leapt into the air, but as she tried to leap, the grassy sea turned to a watery sea, and instead of rising into the air, they began to sink into the swelling water. Struggling to stay above the waves, Pergassi began to swim, but the water pulled them to the edge of the ravine, and over the brink of a waterfall. They were falling …falling through the mist. Metlan looked up and saw the throne disappearing into the sky as they tumbled toward the rock strewn riverbed below.

  Chapter 16

  Trees - Brina

  My father and I walked back in through the massive doors closest to us to the sound of a harp. I knew the entrancing music was meant to please the Forest, but its lilting tune seemed rather ironic to me when my future was in the balance. The council was standing and so we all remained standing until everyone was inside. The council sat at the signal of an elder and we all followed.

  My father patted my knee as if to assure me that everything would be all right. I clasped my hands, held them to my chest and closed my eyes.

  I heard Elder Lepton speaking in a voice that seemed too strong and loud for such a frail old woman. “A unanimous decision has been reached,” she announced.

  She did not need to specify that. The council always discussed matters until a unanimous decision was reached, because it was known that the Forest did not like discord.

  “The voyage to settle a new colony will begin in two days,” she began, “after the celebrations of Klala’s life.”

  My anxiety started to build. The announcement about the colonization might go on for a long time. I would have to wait to find out what they had decided about the events of the day, and my inadequacies as an interpreter, including whether I was to be punished. Our council was very strict. In Kalpok, we all worked together. For instance, everyone helped keep the terraces, stairs and ropes in good repair, and we all took part in the defense of the village. When we were entrusted with the care of some task, some property or even some person, we were held accountable to take full and proper care, or we were in danger of losing that task, that property or that person. Since I was the only person in Kalpok who knew how to translate, they could not reasonably take away my duties as an interpreter, so I was worried that they would come up with another punishment. Then there was the other possibility. What if they thought I was lying? The punishment for lying to the council was banishment. I opened my eyes, and started tapping my foot nervously. What was going to happen to me?

  The elder had finished explaining the process of reaching the decision, and was starting the announcement:

  “We have chosen the people who will join the voyage.”

  I found myself suddenly interested. I wondered if anyone I knew well would be cho
sen.

  “Some who volunteered have been chosen. Some have been chosen because of necessary skills,” she paused, it seemed almost for dramatic purpose, “and some have been chosen for banishment.”

  Something about the way she said it made me feel afraid. I looked around. I guess something in the way she said it made everyone afraid. Why would they mix banished people with those chosen for the journey?

  “All will be announced randomly. Please stand as you are named. The voyagers are:

  “Garwin, son of Harmon”

  The name startled me. Garwin would not have volunteered, or at least he would have told us if he had. It dawned on me then…he was being banished for his role in Klala’s death, perhaps, or his role in the shooting of the cat riders.

  “Slinga, daughter of Monta.” That was Garwin’s wife.

  “The children of Garwin and Slinga.” At least they would not separate the family. They might have kept his wife and children behind and claimed that he had shown he was unable to care for them, since he had failed to protect Klala. I was glad the council did not do such a thing. I had seen children removed from their families before. It was difficult to watch.

  She listed several other names of people that I had heard of, but did not know well. None of them seem surprised as they stood and so I guessed they had volunteered. One was an elder, although he was the youngest of the elders.

  “Barque, son of Stralon.”

  I could not believe my ears. Barque had had a crush on me since we were kids. I thought of him as a close friend, for he was kind and loyal. Why would they send Barque on this voyage? He had nothing to do with Klala’s death. Not any more than the rest of us, that is. And then I got really nervous. What if they sent my whole troop?

  “Marjan, son of Yaluin.” He was a carpenter and may have been chosen for his woodworking skills. My father knew him well. He was the youngest son in a large family.

  “Planta, daughter of Stemsa,” I believed that was Marjan’s wife. She was a talented seamstress and would be valuable to the trip as well.

  “The children of Marjan and Planta.”

  Once again, I was glad that they were keeping families together. But Barque had been separated from his family. Why would they do that? He was no older than I. I looked over at him. His mother, sitting next to where he stood, seemed to be fighting back tears. Barque was standing bravely looking straight ahead. I admired the way he did not show the distress he must be feeling. My heart sank. I would miss Barque. I had lost Klala, and now to lose Barque to this new colony was almost too much to take.

  “Brantan, son of Thorlan.”

  I knew who he was. Everyone knew who Brantan was. He was a young man, but he was very strong, an ace archer, and another youngest son. He had probably volunteered for the adventure.

  “Beechala, daughter of Sweegum.” She was a healer. It made sense that they would need a healer.

  As they listed several other names that I didn’t know very well, I watched Barque and wondered again how his name got on the list. Surely, he did not volunteer to go? Perhaps Brantan had asked him to go? But why wouldn’t he have told me? I knew that he respected Garwin, and maybe he suspected that he would be sent. But that wasn’t enough reason to…

  I felt my father suddenly startle and I was aware that everyone was looking at me. Elder Lepton had stopped listing names. I looked back at her and realized that she too, was just staring at me.

  “Stand up Brina,” my father gently prodded me.

  And then it hit me. But I did not budge.

  “Brina, daughter of Palana,” Elder Lepton said, looking straight at me, and I realized she must have already said it once before.

  Slowly I stood.

  “Jackan, son of Thorlan,” the elder went on, but I was no longer listening.

  I had not volunteered. I was too young to be chosen for a skill. I was being banished. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I had done nothing wrong! How could they believe a cat rider over me? And they didn’t name my family. They were taking me from my family? And what about my commission? How could they send me away like this, when the new star had come out? Surely Baskrod would be coming for me, and how would he find me if they sent me away before he got here? I would complain. My father would complain. They couldn’t do this. It wasn’t right.

  I looked over at Barque. He smiled at me shyly, and in that moment I knew. Barque had somehow known they would send me. Barque had volunteered to protect me. I could see it in his eyes. My eyes started to tear up with emotion.

  Meanwhile, the elder seemed to be reaching the end of her list.

  “Lastly,” she announced, with grit in her voice, “we have decided to banish the cat rider. He will travel with the colonists who may leave him along the way, at a place of their choosing. All of this will be written by our scribes in the history of our village. We wish for all those who will be leaving, a good voyage and a flourishing future. May they find a bountiful forest like that of our own beloved Mesmeringa Forest.”

  And just like that, the council meeting was completed. The lilting music began again, and soon the room was filled with the sounds of congratulations, tears, excitement and sorrow. I turned to my father, wanting to collapse in his arms in tears.

  “Be strong, Brina,” he said. “This is a part of your destiny, and will lead you to where you need to be. We have to believe.”

  I could not see how going in a different direction from which Baskrod always arrived, to an unknown world, would lead me to anywhere anyone needed to be. I was leaving my family in shame, to go to a backward wilderness, when I had expected to leave with honor on a grand quest. And worse yet, that horrible cat rider was going with us.

  I followed my father toward the door. Of course, nobody wanted to congratulate us. I tried to avoid anyone’s eyes. Just as we reached the door, I felt someone put their hand on my shoulder. I turned and was startled to find that I was face to face with Elder Lepton.

  “I must speak with you alone before you leave on the voyage,” she said. “Join me for tea at my tree before your departure. I will summon you with a magpie when I am ready.”

  Chapter 17

  Rocks - Moshoi

  In the morning, I was groggy, and at first I forgot where I was. I should have been hibernating this time of year, so my body was not really ready to get up and get moving. However, Rhabdom’s loud singing awakened me early. I knew he probably did it on purpose, since if I slept too long, then the heat would be unbearable as I descended into the valley. It was comical to see the old hermit, stooped over a fire, preparing breakfast while singing loudly. He was singing a song that I knew well:

  “Yakama! Yakama, they carry our bags;

  Yakama! Yakama, they’re such hairy hags;

  Their course hair is brown, but their sweet milk is pink;

  When they lift up their tails, beware how they stink!

  Yakama! Yakama, walk over the crags;

  Yakama! Yakama, they look like such nags;

  Their course hair is brown, but their sweet milk is pink;

  When they lift up their tails, beware how they stink!

  Yakama! Yakama, see how their belly sags;

  Yakama! Yakama, look like they’re dressed in rags;

  Their course hair is brown, but their sweet milk is pink;

  When they lift up their tails, beware how they stink!”

  Here was the wisest man I knew, on the morning of my departure on a great journey from which I might never return, and he was singing a silly song I had learned as a child. I started laughing, then joined in the last two lines of the song. Rhabdom looked up with a broad grin and greeted me heartily:

  “Good morning, Moshoi! Come join me at my table for some breakeveningfast. I know you would prefer a proper breakrockfast, since you have just recently awakened from your rock state, but I hope this will do.”

  He had prepared a simple meal of porridge with dried fruits and vegetables thrown in. I realized then, that I would miss the brea
krockfast when the others awakened, which was my favorite festival, but I tried not to think about it. I respectfully listened in silence as Rhabdom thanked the one god, Adon, about whom he had taught me so much, and then I gulped down the porridge hungrily. Afterward, I thanked my host.

  It soon became apparent that while I had slept, Rhabdom had been up half the night gathering together goods for my journey. He brought one item in particular to my attention.

  “Moshoi, come here my son. Look at this beautiful clay jug.”

  It was shaped just like the kabob jugs that held my favorite meal, with a rounded bottom that came in to a smaller neck and a handle on one side. This one was not sealed with bread at the top, but simply had no opening. I thought at first that Rhabdom was joking, since it was such a common looking item. He was a skilled potter, but this jug was nothing special. Still, I politely walked over to him and took the jug he held out to me.

  It was then that I noticed some nondescript marks had been impressed upon it, and repeated around the widest part of the jug. It was odd, and not in any way impressive or beautiful. In fact, it seemed rather primitive and contained nothing like the intricate engravings that I had seen Tuka create. I was a good blade smith, but Tuka was the engraving artist in our family. He could work in leather, stone or clay.

  “This is the most valuable item that you take with you,” Rhabdom stated. “Guard it with your life.”