Refugees Page 6

  “I’m not usually one to panic, but I’ll keep that in mind. I’ve noticed that everything sort of looks the same the further we go.”

  “If worst comes to worst, Telski has been trained to find my father’s cat in an emergency.”

  “I’ve taught Pergassi how to deliver messages written on bark,” I offered. I had been hoping to get a chance to demonstrate this skill.

  “That sounds like a good trick, only…well…I can’t read,” Sholfo said, acting a little ashamed.

  “That’s not a problem, maybe I’ll teach you some day. But for now, if I ever send you a message, will you promise to take it to my father, the king?” Metlan asked.

  Sholfo pushed his hair back behind his ears, as he scowled. “Sure.” He seemed uneasy.

  “But, I’ll need your help teaching Pergassi to always find Telski, if we get separated,” Metlan added.

  Sholfo seemed to relax. “Fair enough. We can practice now. We can make sort of a game of it as we ride. I’ll show you.”

  “Great idea! But, remember your promise, okay?” Metlan reminded.

  “Sure. I never forget a promise,” Sholfo said, quite seriously. Something about the way he said it, made Metlan believe the boy.

  “What about the fliers, are there any along here?” Metlan asked.

  “Not yet, we still have a ways to go. They’re around the other side of this mountain.”

  “Then sure, let’s try it.” Metlan said.

  The boys and their lions spent an enjoyable afternoon honing their skills in the woods, all the time drawing nearer to the mysterious Ancient Forest.

  Chapter 7

  Trees - Brina

  I was awakened from my sleep by the sudden whistled calls of danger which filled the forest.

  Notes rang out from one distant tree: shrill and long, short and higher, then dipping low. The same tonal pattern was repeated from another tree. I jumped from my hammock to grab my bow, placed a curved finger to my mouth, and blew a screeching whistle in reply as I ran. Our whistled language might sound to an untrained ear like the sound of birds, yet through it we communicated specific information.

  My entire family rushed to the doorway to grab our goryti from the nails in the entranceway, as we prepared to join our troops in the designated areas along the perimeter of the forest. Ceila stood wide eyed holding her bow as she watched us leave. She was too young to be part of a defending troop, so she would stay behind. Papa paused briefly to reassure her.

  As I tied back my long hair on the way to the door, I passed my mama, who was already carrying her gorytos across her back. “Be safe Brina,” my mama said, briefly catching my eyes with hers. Then, she hugged me, pressing me tightly to her chest, kissed me on my cheek, and headed out to the platform. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mama,” I replied. “Fly safe.”

  This could be a drill or the real thing. There was no way to know.

  I grabbed my gorytos, which held the bow I had so lovingly prepared the night before, slung it about my neck, and then ran out onto the terrace of my house. I stopped only to check that my path through the air was clear. Then I popped my claws out of my sheathed fingers, and running at full speed, leapt into the air, spreading my arms and legs fully to open the webbing of skin attached at my wrists and ankles. As I spread my arms, my lungs opened and filled with oxygen. The wind blew its breath into my face, making me feel fully alive and completely free as it caught my glides and buoyed me up, giving me lift. All the while, I soared downward on a diagonal at a high speed, still so far above the ground that I was not even aware of it. I aimed several feet below my intended landing spot on a tree. Then I lifted my arms and arched my back to glide up for a short way, thus slowing my speed before landing directly on the trunk of the tree.

  I needed to climb higher before beginning my next descent. Staircases wound around the tree homes for those who were less agile or carrying supplies. I avoided them and scrambled up the side of the trunk, using the claws on my hands and feet to dig into the tree bark. As I neared each platform, I briefly used the winding staircase to go through to the top. Several platforms up, I again launched into the air.

  Other Gliders filled the woods, the terraces, the stairs, the bridges, and the air, as they reported to their positions. In Kalpok, each troop contained same aged peers with an older leader. Crack troops headed for the perimeter. Troops with less experienced, aging, or handicapped members, manned trees more toward the center of the forest, in planned concentric rings moving inward. Some of the best gliders waited as rovers inside the perimeter so they could quickly move to any area where an attack was identified.

  I repeated my sequence of actions several times as I headed to join my troop at the appointed tree in the southeastern edge of the forest. The Mesmeringa Forest was nestled in the lower slopes of the Cragyog Mountains along the Alfon River. Although the barren peaks of the mountains held their terrors, they served to keep out Ground Dweller encroachments. Likewise, the raging rapids of the Alfon River below the Frothian Waterfall protected us from the outside world. Sometimes fishermen or merchants in small boats sailed as far upstream as our docks at the bend in the river below the rapids. But, nobody ever came closer, unless they were invited.

  My path took me through a maze of vines and ropes which were a part of the elaborate system of pulleys that ran from tree to tree, which had been constructed to enable us to bring goods up into our homes. Within minutes, I reached my designated troop tree.

  When I landed, Sir Garwin, Sabra, Grala, Barque, Taber, and Brank had already arrived and were scattered on branches behind foliage. They each held multiple arrows in one hand, ready for rapid release from their bows, which were pointed toward the ground below. Most of them just glanced at me and nodded briefly as I landed, but Barque turned and smiled at me, his dimples creasing in his cheeks, as I leapt to a branch near his. Just after me, Klala landed on the trunk and silently joined the troop on a branch above mine, looking sleepy eyed with her hair hanging loose about her shoulders. Even though I had been carefully trained to be silent, it was difficult not to blurt out the news about the appearance of the new star to my best friend, Klala. I would have to wait until the drill or danger was over.

  FweeeeeeeeeFwoooooooeee

  From the whistle, I learned that the area at highest alert was the southwestern edge of the forest, near the Alfon River, where extra archers would have reported, but the danger might move, so we had to be ready.

  Silently, I positioned my arrow to the right of my bow and held Eej up to eye level. I scanned the ground for movement below, while deftly holding numerous arrows between my fingers, ready to pull and rapid release one arrow after another, at any movement.

  I began to wonder what danger we might be facing. The Forest makes all things my people need for a good life easily available, and so, in gratitude, we seek to please the Forest. We do not cut down living trees but prune them for wood. We kill the animals of the forest only in self-defense, so for centuries the ground cats have freely roamed the forest floor. We can share the forest with these big cats because they stay on the ground, while we prefer the trees. Cats kill by ambush, so there have always been occasional killings of villagers gathering berries alone on the forest floor. But recently, the larger lions, bred by the flightless dwellers of the grasses, had become active man killers, silently stalking our people.

  FwiiiiiiiiOaaaUuuu:

  My eyes widened as I comprehended the meaning of the whistle: cat riders. In the past, the chances of any human threat to our village getting past the outer circle of our troops had been almost nonexistent. But now a predator worse than lions had entered our forest. I had never seen a cat rider, but I had heard the stories.

  We all remained motionless, listening to the sounds of the forest. Every crack, rumble, or animal call drew our attention, as we waited for any noise that would provide further clues to its direction, origin, and meaning. To remain hidden from danger we simply blended in with nature.
Our whistling sounds, which corresponded to the tones of our speech, were like those of the birds. When on high alert, we made no noise except those of the wind, the trees, or the animals. Even our sign language was not used at such times, because the movement could attract a predator.

  I have watched the big cats, as they move silently through the forest. They move their front and back leg forward together, one side at a time, noiselessly on padded paws. But, these cat riders were noisy. They did not live in the forest, so they did not know how to blend in.

  Although I could not make out the words, I heard the whispers long before the cat rider came into view, so I knew exactly where he would appear and directed the point of my lead arrow to that spot, without releasing. First, a cat’s large maned head came into view between two bushes, far below where my troop was stationed. The cat rider’s long, tangled, dark hair hung out below his cap. He was wearing a tan leather tunic, and his legs and forearms were wrapped in leather. A bow was in his hands and a curved sword swung at his side, from his belt. He took a noisy swig from a water bag he carried slung over one shoulder.

  The sound of a cough in the brush behind the first man alerted me to the presence of another cat rider. My arrow was pointed at the first man’s heart. I held my breath, waiting for a sign from Sir Garwin. If we shot and missed, we ran the risk of shooting an innocent lion, or alerting other cat riders nearby. If we waited, we might endanger the entire village by losing the advantage of surprise. The cat would notice us long before the man would. The timing was all-important. I was glad the decision was Garwin’s, not mine.

  Just as the second rider came into view, the first cat looked up, tensed, turned his ears back, and sniffed the air. He started to flick his tail from side to side. The first man reached over his shoulder, pulled a single arrow from his quiver, pointed his bow in our direction, and pulled back. A leaf rustled in the breeze just over my left shoulder. It was Garwin mimicking the forest. I tightened my arm muscles, pulled back and released my first arrow, followed by a rapid succession of other arrows. At the very same time, I heard the twang of eight other bows. Both men fell from their cats, riddled with arrows.

  I wondered how the Forest would feel about that.

  Before I knew what was happening, an enraged lion leapt into the air directly toward our tree. The entire tree shook violently as the powerful, massive creature landed on the trunk and began to climb. I reached out for a branch.

  Gliders seldom fall. We spend our lives in the trees, balance expertly, grip the bark with our claws, and glide to a soft landing. But Klala fell.

  Chapter 8

  Mud - Amanki

  The boy bending over in the boat stood abruptly while the others all froze. The noise was coming from behind him, beyond the cluster of houses across the canal, but he seemed too scared to turn, and instead looked directly forward at me.

  “What is that?” he asked, wide eyed.

  “Mud beasts!” I exclaimed. “Run!”

  After one glimpse of the advancing torrent, the boys all splashed out of the shallow water and ran toward their home. I called after them, “Escape to the river!”

  I hoped they would somehow make it to safety. Quickly placing the string with the cylinder seal over my neck so my hands would be free, I jumped into the water beside the boat, pulled up the bag of stones, and pushed off from the shore. I had just grabbed the oars when I noticed a graceful figure wrapped in her long white robe coming toward me from the reeds. I recognized her immediately as the herbalist.

  “Please let me come,” she pleaded from the shore.

  “Hurry!” I called back without even thinking twice.

  She dove into the water and swam to my boat with swift strong kicks, holding a bag above the water in one hand. I reached over the side, grabbed her under her arms, and pulled her in.

  “Can you row?” I asked, pointing to the oars Baskrod had used before.

  “I’ll do my best,” she replied, and dropping the bag on top of one of the blankets, she sat between the other oars and started to row. I tried to row in unison with her, but her strokes were slower than mine.

  OOOEEEEEIIIII, a shrill sound rang across the fields. Relieved, I recognized the call of the ram’s horn reverberating from the village. At least a warning had been sounded, probably by the family I had met. Maybe a handful of these villagers would escape to the fishing boats along the banks. I looked over my shoulder toward the river. A dazzling sun was coming up in the direction we were headed, its rays reaching across the canal water to our boat.

  “Pull!” I yelled, quickening my strokes. Manhera was trying, but she did not have Baskrod’s strength. Meanwhile, Baskrod did not stir in the boat.

  I glanced north toward the thunderous noise, and now that the sun was up, I could clearly see the approaching mud beasts. It was apparent that some had swum across the canals, since the mud on their bodies was splotchy and they were dripping wet. The beasts were like large, strong donkeys with long legs, short pointy ears, and long-haired tails. Bearded men with stiff manes straddled the backs of the animals. The men carried coiled ropes, curved bows, long spears and decorated axes. The axes had metal heads with a sharp, curved edge on one side, and pointed end on the other. As the beasts swept down toward us, the men’s bodies turned and flowed perfectly with the rapidly moving beasts, as if the two were one.

  My arms and head were aching. The effort and the fear made me start to feel dizzy again. The distance to the river seemed so much further than when I had come down the canal. Why aren’t we there yet? Some of the approaching mud beasts were already circling the mud brick houses above the canal, emitting the same hair-raising screams I had heard before.

  One lone rider on a black horse separated from the others and headed past the houses toward us. When he pulled the ropes strung through his animal’s mouth, the beast to stop and raised its front legs high into the air while it balanced briefly on its hind legs, and let out a high pitched whistle that sounded almost as if it were laughing. The man was scanning the horizon along the river, and then along the canal as if looking for something.

  I would have known this demon enemy with the hawk-like nose anywhere. To my horror, he stopped looking around when he spotted my boat. He kicked the beast with his heels which caused the beast to spurt toward us.

  My heart fell to my stomach. I knew the beasts could swim but had no way of knowing how quickly. I wished I had my slings. Filled with fear and anger, I kicked a blanket near my feet searching for Baskrod’s trident. I could not let this monster take us alive.

  Chapter 9

  Rocks - Moshoi

  It wasn’t long before Tuka returned eagerly with the requested tools. He spread them out in front of me so I could inspect them in the flickering torchlight along our balcony. I tested the blade of the saw to be sure it was sharp. Tuka watched me with anticipation.

  “You have done well Tuka.”

  “I have also brought hardtack biscuits and even some jug kabobs,” Tuka announced, as he unrolled some jugs wrapped in cloths to reveal several clay jars closed with bread paste that contained the traditional mixture of dried, salted meat and vegetables sealed within. Tuka knew that this was my favorite meal.

  “The jug kabobs will be heavy to bring.” I said, and then, seeing his face drop, I added, “but I will eat one now and bring a few for the first couple of nights,” not wanting to disappoint him too badly, since I knew he was only trying to please me.

  “I have also brought a bag of grain.” Tuka said and lowered it to the floor.

  “Then what will father feed to the animals, and what will our family eat when they awaken?” I asked. One of the main reasons a watcher stayed awake was to feed our livestock that we kept deep within the cave throughout the harsh, dry summer, since they did not know how to hibernate. The caves contained a labyrinth of rooms, and the entrance was sealed with a giant round stone from within to keep out intruders.

  “Perhaps we could speak to our neighboring watchers to see
if they might each spare a little for the journey?” Tuka suggested.

  “And what would you say if someone came to you with that suggestion, while you were watching? Would you give up even a little of your family’s grain?” I asked thoughtfully, even as I wondered whether such a scheme might be feasible.

  Tuka thought for a moment and then responded, “Nobody has ever asked such a thing, but I would give a little if there was a good reason. If each family gives just a small amount, it would be enough.”

  I didn’t think it was very likely. After all, what reason could I give to go on such a journey, in the middle of the drought season, when I should be hibernating? But we couldn’t take such a large amount from our family and livestock, I knew that much, and it would be a suicide mission to take off without provisions.

  “Let me give it some more thought,” I said hesitantly.

  “If you decide you want me to ask them, I’ll do my best,” Tuka said, and I knew he would.

  I started thinking out loud to Tuka, trying to formulate a plan:

  “I have no idea how to get to Tzoladia. So before starting on our journey, we will first need to travel higher into the mountains to visit Rhabdom’s cave to receive directions. After that, we can hike back here to start our journey. We should probably take one of the yakamas as a pack animal, but I can’t imagine that father would allow it. I must warn you, I’ve heard that hostile tribes live between Hattom and Tzoladia, and there will be bands of robbers along the way. We will need to bring our swords, axes, and bolas.”

  “Our journey? So you will let me come?” he said, ignoring the dangers I had just outlined.

  “Only if father will allow it, which I’m almost sure he will not, so don’t get your hopes up.” Although I had the full, scaled beard of a man, it would still be dishonorable for me to leave without informing our father.

  “How far away is Rhabdom’s cave?” Tuka inquired. Tuka had never been there. Father had only allowed me to visit Rhabdom, who was a skilled potter, because of his vast knowledge of materials useful to blade smiths such as ourselves.