Refugees Page 4

  As I finished munching the hazelnuts, I gazed across the valley at the other Hattomian homes cut high up into the scattered volcanic rocks, surrounded by balconies and dotted with arched doorways, which could be reached only by climbing chiseled stone stairs. Stone walls with crenellations had been added to some of the homes. Torches along the front corridors lit up the rock formations, casting shadows and eerily lighting up the doors of the rock homes with an orange glow. Suddenly, a slight wind blew, causing the fires to flicker, which made the orange light appear to flow like hot lava.

  “There it is,” said Tuka, and pointed up into the sky to a bright, flickering star under the giant bird constellation.

  I studied it carefully. Across the night sky stretched the wings of the Roc Constellation, whose individual stars sparkled above us, a reminder of the huge scary bird of children’s tales. But the lights of those stars were nearly overcome by the star that now pulsated below one wing. Tuka was right. That star had not been there before I had gone into my rock state for the hot season. I had never seen it there before. It was in the place that Rhabdom had promised.

  “You were right to awaken me Tuka. That is the star.”

  Tuka smiled and looked up at it again. “I knew it, I just knew it. It seems to be getting larger,” he said.

  Now I was the one who did not know what to do. I knew I must not wake our parents, brothers, sisters, aunts, and uncles, before it was the proper time. There would not be enough for them to eat if I woke them. If I was to depart on my journey, then that would leave one less mouth to feed, but I would have to take food with me, of which there was precious little. I did not want to be the cause of my family starving.

  “I must prepare to leave on a long journey,” I told Tuka.

  “Take me with you,” he urged.

  “Tuka, you are too young,” I answered without even considering. “You were not even supposed to be a watcher this year. The only reason father let you do it was because you were sick to your stomach just before the rock ceremony and lost too much weight to hibernate. He let you take the oath to become a lone watcher, but you were really a few months too young. Otherwise, I would have been watching this year instead of joining the rocks.”

  “But I have proven myself as a watcher. Look around. I have kept the torches burning, provided for my own food and drink, fed our animals, maintained good relations with the neighboring watchers, and kept out intruders.”

  “I do not doubt that you have done your duty,” I reassured him, “but what would father say if I took you with me?”

  “Will you just go alone?”

  I actually started thinking that it would be nice to have Tuka along. He was so positive and so eager to always please me. He might almost make the long and dangerous journey fun.

  “But if I take you, who will watch for our family?”

  “So you do want to take me!” Tuka jumped in happily. “We will wake father. We will ask for his permission, and then he can watch for the family.”

  “I can’t imagine that Father would allow it. Be calm, Tuka, a decision like this should not be made lightly. Soon it will be morning, I will not leave until then. Help me get together some supplies and I will think about your suggestion. Let me think…I will need a pick axe, a saw, a spade, a rope, a water skin, and a basket.”

  “Thank you, Moshoi, I will get them right away. You will not regret it if you bring me!” he said. Then he ran off in search of the items.

  I found myself thinking he might be right.

  Chapter 5

  Mud - Amanki

  “Can you move your fingers? Can you flap your feet?” I heard a woman’s melodic voice saying, from what seemed like far away. Slowly, I realized that she was talking to me. And then a sudden, shocking thought came to me: I wonder if I can? What if I can’t?

  Through a fog, I decided to try. I concentrated hard and attempted to move my fingers.

  “He moved!” a child exclaimed.

  And then the world came into view. There were several people in robes towering over me, staring. They all seemed to be talking about me like I wasn’t there. I closed my eyes, still dazed, and I must have faded out again.

  Later, I opened my eyes momentarily and strained to sit up.

  “Don’t try to get up,” the melodic voice said gently. “Lie still.”

  I lay back down and let my eyes close. Soft fingers began spreading what felt like soothing mud on my left temple. For a moment, it was as if I were once again a small boy, being comforted by mother’s hands gently smoothing my forehead.

  When I tried again to sit up, subtle pressure from the gentle hands held me back. “Don’t try to move.”

  Then, it all came back to me. The mud beast's axe, my mother’s feet…I pictured the horror of the night and I wanted to lie back down and never get up. But then I remembered my escape in the boat with Baskrod.

  “Baskrod?” I asked.

  “His wound is deep,” the gentle voice said, “but he should live. The Glider cloth of his tunic allowed you to slide the arrow out without doing further damage. He was asking for you.”

  I opened my eyes wide and saw a young and very beautiful woman’s face, framed in auburn hair. Her skin was as smooth as a pond on a windless day, and her eyes were deep green pools. Her face was close to mine. The full import of what she was saying started to sink in to my mind.

  “Asking…then he’s awake?”

  “He is sleeping now,” she said, “but he has awakened from his deep sleep, if that is what you are asking.”

  “Thank you! Oh, thank you!” I looked around and saw Baskrod sleeping in the corner with white cloths wrapped around his chest and back.

  Looking around, I found that I was lying in a courtyard, typical of those in houses in Webby villages. I recognized the bearded man and his wife standing nearby. Several boys were gathered with them, staring at me. The man’s sling was still wrapped around his head. His full beard and dark disheveled hair were streaked with grey. His wife’s thick, waist length hair was gathered back from her lined forehead, tied at the crown of her head and fell down her back neatly in six long braids. Unlike her husband, she was not scowling at me, but bore a look of concern. She stood straight in her long striped robe, holding her shoulders back, which gave her an air of confidence. Although she must have been middle aged, her symmetrical features, arched eyebrows, and large soft eyes still gave her an attractive appearance.

  “Thank you for believing me,” I said to the wife.

  They all just looked at me. She nodded with a slight smile.

  “How long have I been here?” I asked

  “Soon the sun will rise,” the man announced.

  “Oh, no! We need to get out of here!” I grasped my head, alarmed at how much time had passed. “I’m fine, I mean, I just have a headache.” I turned to the lovely young woman, whom I assumed was the healer, for confirmation, “Right? I’m fine, aren’t I? We all need to go!”

  This time the healer helped me sit up. “Yes,” she said calmly. “You need rest, but you should be fine. Here, try eating this. This family has kindly provided food for you.” She handed me a fig cake. I gobbled it down hungrily.

  “Delicious. Thank you,” I said between bites. It tasted just like the cakes my mother had often prepared for me.

  If we just rest, none of us will be fine. But I kept my thoughts in the jar for now, realizing that I must first get back to the boat with Baskrod. To do that, I needed these people to continue to help me, which meant that I must not agitate the bearded man.

  “Please help us to the boat. I must take Baskrod with me.”

  “Baskrod needs to sleep,” the healer answered.

  The man approached and asked me menacingly, “Whom are you running from? Did you steal those supplies?”

  I remembered the sting of his flail and chose my words carefully. Although I thought about lying to him, I didn’t want to lie to his wife. Anyway, I had never been a good liar, so instead, I tried to choose
the right way to tell the truth.

  “Strangers attacked our village. Baskrod had loaded the boat with supplies because he had information that we might be in danger. We have harmed no one. Please, help me get Baskrod back to his boat. I must take him…to Tzoladia.” The city seemed like a place that existed only in my dreams, but it was where Baskrod had been urging me to go. I tried to sound confident.

  The wife watched me closely. I waited.

  “So, the rumors about some danger coming our way…Is this boy saying it’s all true?” the man asked, becoming even more agitated.

  “Yes, and I believe him,” the wife stated, in her calm but firm manner. Her husband gave her perplexed look, then looked back at me.

  “If you move Baskrod, it must be done carefully,” the young herbalist warned.

  “I have no choice,” I said.

  Once again the wife of the bearded man came to my assistance. “We must do as he says,” she said. “There are mysteries here beyond our understanding.”

  “The old man must rest,” the herbalist repeated.

  I realized then, that she had never said that we could not go. “Once he is lying in the boat, I will not move him,” I agreed.

  “We have shown these neighbors our hospitality. Now, it is our duty to help them on their way. Boys, carry the old man to his boat, carefully, but quickly,” the kind wife ordered, “then hurry home.” Nobody questioned her decision. I was surprised at the way that even her husband seemed to follow her directives.

  The older sons, who looked nearly my age, took the corners of the large reed mat that Baskrod lay upon and carefully carried him out the door, following their father. I started to stand, but had to sit back down for a moment. Soon, I was able to stand without feeling dizzy, and I followed the others.

  The wife had stepped outside while the gentle healer was standing just inside the door. When I stopped to thank the healer, she simply bent her head, eyes down. Then she briefly lifted her eyes, smiled, and said, “I only did my duty.”

  I wish I could have stayed forever in the oasis of her smile. I had to force myself to leave, wondering how I might best warn this lovely young woman and the others of the dreadful tide of raiders that might soon be flowing their way, without endangering Baskrod.

  As I walked out the door, the wife took me by the arm and whispered almost tenderly, “The new star has come. I know who you are, and you must hurry.” I thought I must have heard her wrong, that my mind was still muddled from the flail, but she pressed a stone seal into my hand and said, “I have held this for this very hour. You must take it now, Amanki. May Adon be with you.”

  Without thinking, I closed my fingers on the cylinder seal as she headed back into the house. A chill swept over me. Adon was the god Baskrod had taught me to worship. I did not know that any other Webbies worshiped him.

  “Wait!” I called after her in a hoarse voice, “Please believe me one more time. You are all in great danger. Blow the ram’s horn, run for the boats and escape.”

  “Thank you,” the woman whispered, showing no signs of fear. Instead, she smiled warmly at me, and motioned for me to go. “Do not worry. We too will flee. But first, you must hurry.” As I took off to catch up with the others, I heard her exclaim: “Simak, run tell Lim to get the boat ready, now! Stay with it and we will join you as quickly as we can!”

  At last, someone believed me! By the time I caught up with the older boys, their father had already brought Baskrod’s boat through the thick reeds, close to the canal edge. When he saw me, he silently started back toward his house, while the boys lifted Baskrod into the boat. Although their webbed feet helped them not to slip in the wet mud, the maneuver was difficult. I started into the water to assist them.

  Then suddenly, from the north, a sound like thunder broke through the stillness. The mud beasts were coming.

  Chapter 6

  Grass - Metlan

  Metlan spoke gently to Pergassi and stroked the bone just beneath her eye. Pergassi closed her eyes and nuzzled her nose into Metlan’s hand. Then Pergassi lay on her back, exposing her nearly white fur-covered belly to Metlan. She held her legs up in the air, with her paws curled in. Metlan scratched her belly.

  “You’re a good kitty, Pergassi,” he cooed to her.

  Pergassi rolled over on her side and Metlan curled up next to her. He trusted her completely, even though she was almost twice as long as he was tall, six times as heavy, and could snap his neck in an instant. Metlan stretched out onto his back and laid his head on Pergassi's soft furry side like it was a pillow. Her even breathing soon lulled him into a deep sleep.

  Across the dry field where they had encamped along the river, there were numerous other boys, men, and female cave lions. Several male lions patrolled the perimeters of the camp to keep out intruders. The Samalitans prized these felines for their giant size and endurance. Some of the tribesmen had chosen to sleep in the shady comfort of tents, while others, like Metlan, had chosen to rest outside with their cats under spindly shrubs or anything that offered scant protection from the intense sun. The lions had brought down several long-nosed antelope from a passing herd the night before and had eaten their fill. Now they were sleeping it off.

  After several hours of sleep, Pergassi stretched her front paws as if reaching for the horizon, causing Metlan to awaken and sit up. He stroked Pergassi along her back near her neck. Pergassi lifted her hind quarters to the sky and stretched her paws into the ground, pulling at the dirt with her claws. Her short fur was a tawny yellowish brown, the same color as Metlan’s wavy hair. She had distinctive black lines under her eyes. When he looked closely, Metlan could see the faint outline of light brown stripes, almost ghostlike along her haunches. He noticed her fur was matted with sweat where he had been lying against her.

  “It’s too hot. Let’s go on down to the river,” Metlan said.

  Pergassi turned to look at him, squinting her green eyes to his soothing tones. He grabbed a small chunk of dried flier meat from his leather pack and headed through the tall grasses toward the river. Last night, a scouting party had brought back dead fliers from the forest and carved them into treats for the cats. Sometimes to encourage their sleepy cats to keep moving, the men dangled the treats from sticks as they rode. Now that the tribe had neared the wooded hills, these tasty morsels had become available.

  As he began to wade through the tall grasses into shallow water, Metlan turned to call to his pet.

  “Pergassi!”

  He watched her pad toward him. She lifted each powerful paw and silently placed it in front of her. The skin on her back rose and fell in waves as her weight shifted from side to side. Her long tail curved behind her. As they neared the water’s edge, Metlan remembered the first time they had swam together when she was just a cub. While Pergassi stayed on the bank, he had called to her from the water. She had scampered up to the edge as if to go in, and then stopped and paced along the edge, looking at him, while waving her tail from side to side. Finally, he had waded out, picked her up by the scruff of her neck with two hands and dropped her in the water. The memory made Metlan laugh. It was hard to believe there had ever been a time when he could pick her up.

  Metlan forded into the cooling water until he was covered up to his chest. Pergassi entered the water, and began to swim toward him, her head held high while her body was submerged. As she reached him, she put her immense paws on his shoulders. Unlike some of the other cats who were not so gentle, Pergassi always retracted her claws when she was near Metlan. He held the flier meat up to her mouth and she happily snapped it up. Metlan slapped his hands on the water, and soon the two were splashing about together. Some of his land-loving tribesmen nearby, who had come down to the river for a drink, looked out at them scowling, but Metlan didn’t care. Metlan loved swimming in the water with his cat. Let the others bake in the hot sun. That was their problem.

  Metlan glanced at the nearby tree-covered mountains. Although the peaks had always loomed in the distance, he had
never ventured so near. If all went as planned, by tomorrow he would be on his way to the legendary home of the fliers in the Ancient Forest. But first, Metlan would need to speak with the king. He headed for the river bank with Pergassi following. She bounded out of the water. After they sat for a moment, her paw draped over his shoulder, Metlan got up. Last night, a new brilliant new star had appeared in the sky. Before she was lost at sea, Metlan’s mother had told him fables about such a star. Perhaps it was a good omen. Metlan felt that it was time that he made his mark on the world. He was tired of lying in his father’s shadow.

  “I’ll be back soon.” Metlan said, and leaving Pergassi to guard his pack, Metlan strode over to his father’s large lion skin covered tent, his long tawny hair still dripping wet. As he neared, the king’s personal bodyguards jumped up, and stood straight with their shoulders pulled back. Metlan was disappointed to see that Breyjak was on duty today. He had always suspected that Breyjak had ambitions of his own.

  “Be at ease, men. Is my father busy?” Metlan raise his right palm in a friendly gesture, which also served to reveal that he carried no weapon.

  Breyjak answered stiffly, “The king is never idle.”

  “I meant I wish to have an audience with him.”

  “Leipold and Jortan are with him.”

  “May I join them?” Metlan persisted.

  “I wouldn’t,” Breyjak said, still looking forward, expressionless. “They asked not to be disturbed.” One corner of his upper lip curled as he glanced at Metlan. He slicked back long strands of his straight black hair with his fingers.

  “I didn’t ask if you could join them. I asked if I could join them,” Metlan retorted with a laugh.

  But Breyjak didn’t find it funny. “Suit yourself, Prince Metlan,” he said with a frown and lifted the tent flap.

  The king was seated with a cloth wrapped around his head, his bushy beard hanging loose and one hand dipped in a bowl of water. Priest Leipold and Jortan were seated to either side of him, each with a bowl of their own. Jortan had one finger in his bowl and was swirling it through the strands of lion fur that floated upon the water. Leipold had apparently already swirled his and was staring intently at the pattern attempting to divine an answer. Breyjak had failed to mention that they were busy performing the Ktistai ritual for the great cat god Phix. It was too late now.