The Preparation

 

As the cow drew nearer, Fallon backed away from her dead calf. She grunted as her snout came close to the carcass, then she licked the haunch several times and made a low humming sound. Keeping still, Fallon heard a tik-tik bird to his right. He waved at Alithea to wait and the cow raised her head at his motion. Alithea moved away from the trees, approaching the cow from the side, holding Erthen in her arm.

“Cow,” Erthen said and Alithea reached forward to squeeze the teat. The left hind foot twitched but didn’t kick.

“Cut,” Alithea said in a calm tone to Fallon. “Speak calmly. We haven’t had real food in weeks. They are used to hearing voices. Nothing to be concerned about.” 

Emboldened by Alithea’s calmness, Fallon tucked the knife away, reached under the calf and picked it up. “We’re bringing her baby home.” He backed several steps down the hill with the carcass, talking gibberish in an even tone. The cow turned to Alithea, grunted, and moved toward Fallon.

Alithea make a clicking sound and strode forward, staying safely away from the cow. “We’re going home. There are other calves at the bottom of the hill.”

As they reached the bottom of the hill, several villagers appeared from behind one of the ovens. Loaded with the calf, Fallon turned to the villagers then to Alithea, who was already moving around the herd toward the trees.

“Gorsuch,” the older man used Fallon’s fake Washiti name, “who is that woman and child?”

“They were in the trees,” Fallon answered. “I think they are hungry and followed me down the hill.”

“We can’t give them the calf,” the villager said. “The queen will have a feasting tomorrow night at the palace.”

“The queen? How does she know?”

“Her faerie, of course.”

Fallon nodded. What faerie? “Of course,” he answered. Struggling under the weight of the calf, he asked, “Where would you like me to set the carcass?”

Villager pointed him to a building midway between the row of beehive ovens.

“What shall I do with the woman and child?”

“We shall offer them some of the prisoner food, then call for the guards to take them to the prison camp by the ocean.”

“What if they run away?” When villager shrugged, Fallon moved toward the building, then took a deep breath and let out the sound of an Alsace bird to warn Alithea. He turned frantically from side to side. “Is the bird back?” Villager looked to the sky, then someone pointed to the roof of the sleeping quarters. Fallon hustled into the building and set the calf down on a cutting table.

An older woman came from out of the shadows at the back of the room. “What is that?”

“Calf. Cook for the queen tomorrow night,” Fallon answered.

“Chickens, fish. I don’t know about calves.” She looked up at Fallon. “The queen?”

Fallon gestured outside, then made a droopy face to mimic the older villager. She snorted a laugh. “Mileku. He knows. Chicken and fish. No calves.” She stabbed her cutting knife into the wooden table.

Fallon backed out of the room and building, then turned toward the herd and the other villagers. Several of them were on the far side of the herd, scanning through the trees. “Mileku,” he said to the older villager, who turned to him. “Woman says chicken and fish. She doesn’t know how to prepare calf.”

Mileku turned to the building, then waved his hand in disgust. “I will find Sisseku. Maybe she knows.”

“Where are the woman and child?” Fallon asked.

“Ran off into the woods. Let them go. They will starve or become food for wolfbear patrol.”

Fallon remembered the knife he had tucked away and brought it out. “I have cut Ibik. Can’t be too different. Perhaps Sisseku and I could prepare the calf for the queen’s feast tomorrow night.”

Mileku thought a moment, then nodded. “Can you help with the morning cook? Will that give you enough time?”

Fallon agreed, then walked toward the sleeping quarters. Passing by one of the beehive ovens, he noticed several cakes left over from the day’s meals. He grabbed several and put them in his white coat.

“Those are prisoner cakes,” a voice behind him said. “Extra meals for us are in the sleeping quarters.”

Fallon set the cakes back on the table and turned to face the old woman he had spoken to earlier. With a respectful nod, he thanked her and resumed his way to the sleeping quarters. Next to the front door was a table with several cakes. He put one in his mouth, glanced around at some of the workers in their cots. “Nice moonrise,” he gave as an excuse to exit the building.

Wanting to avoid attention, he took off his white coat and stuffed the bundle below his tunic. In the civil twilight, he worked his way along the edge of trees and past the herd of cows. Several were haltered and staked to the ground. Fallon guessed that herd instinct kept the others together. He made the call of a tik-tik bird and was answered in kind. He gave Alithea and Erthen a hug, then took the food cakes out of his coat. Alithea took the cakes and bit into one with a greedy delight, then handed it to Erthen.

“Take the coat. It will keep off the chill tonight.”

“You’re not staying?” Alithea asked, the anxiety in her voice.

“We’re cooking the calf for the queen tomorrow night. If I can get us several days’ rations, some water.” He held her face in his hand, then gave Erthen a kiss on the cheek that was stuffed with cake. “Why would they tell me not to eat cake that was made for prisoners? I grabbed a few cakes, and I was told not to take those.”

“They are putting something in the food,” Alithea said. “Bebe and I lost our babes. We should have gone into our fertile period. We didn’t. How many young warriors like Drindl working on the rocks? I haven’t seen a warrior in musth. Let me think.”

Fallon reached out to Erthen and swept the boy into his arms. “He seems a bit too passive for his age, don’t you think?”

Alithea turned and gave him a scritch on his forehead. “We’ve put him through a lot. When we get away from here and life is more normal…” She left the sentence unfinished as she looked at his drooping eyes. “How much of the cake did he eat?”

“You gave it to him,” Fallon said as he lifted up Erthen’s chin.

“I took a bite, then gave him the rest, then I think I took the other cake.” She tilted Erthen’s face to her. “There’s something in the cake.”

“I had some. I’m fine. He’s tired. He hasn’t had a nap. We were up early. It’s been a long day,” Fallon reassured her.

“Ok, I’ll watch him,” Alithea said. Remembering her early thought, she said, “Hazel fury. That’s what they are putting in the prisoners’ rations. It’s what we give to you when you go on campaign. Curbs your sexual appetite.”

“The reddish-purple berries? Is that the one?” Fallon asked.

“No, the leaves. The berries are a treat, I suppose.” She paused. “That wouldn’t affect the women though.” She checked Erthen again. “You remember the plant? Look for it. See if you can bring me some tomorrow so I can be sure. Oh, it doesn’t matter. We are leaving this horrible place.”

“After Sisseku and I cook up the calf, that will be…” Fallon said.

Alithea interrupted, “Have you cooked a calf? This morning, you said you had not seen one before. Let Sisseku cook and we will leave this place tomorrow morning.”

“It can’t be too much different than an Ibik calf,” Fallon reasoned.

“It’s a lot different,” Alithea sighed. “Oh, it’s been a long time. Organs are similar, I believe. The haunches are thicker. More body muscle per weight on the Ibik.”

“No one else knows. I’ll figure it out,” Fallon reassured here. “After lunch, I’ll come and get you. We’ll go east to the desert if that is what is there.”

“Bebe, Alpen, Drindl?” she asked.

“You’re right. We need to get away. We’ll figure it out later. Maybe we can double back, get my weapons.” He reached for her and gave her a hug. “I need to get back.”

“I should be more anxious, sleeping out here by myself,” Alithea said. “There is something in the cake. You?”

Taking stock of his mood, “I’m worried, but confident somehow.”

“These villagers – earlier today, you were surprised at their timidness. They are not aggressive. There is something in the food.” She picked up Erthen, who stirred briefly in her arms. “His breathing is slow, but regular. I feel better.”

“You think they are feeding different rations?” Fallon asked.

She thought a moment. “One for the prisoners, one for the children, one for the villagers here, one for the guards. Maybe one for the queen and those other strange creatures like her.” She stopped as she remembered. “I forgot. The miners.”

“Yes, I helped load the miners’ lunch this morning,” Fallon said.

“It made me ill, delirious,” Alithea said. “Just handling it. How many ovens?”

Fallon thought. “Six, I think.”

“See if there is a batch of cakes that are not contaminated. The ones for the queen or the guards. We’ll take those with us. Some of the calf meat would help. I will wait for you.”

They hugged and Fallon returned to the sleeping quarters in the village.

The Unkind Water

 

Drindl began to walk up the slope along the ravine, but Alpen called out, “Let’s stay on the north side of the chasm. That’s where Mellen is.” They followed the cut in the land until they returned to the beach. Gingerly, Alpen tested the sand with his foot, then bounced securely on the ground and extended his hand to Bebe. “Shall we proceed?” he asked in a formal way, trying to lighten up the tension. He looked past Bebe’s shoulder to the Fae warrior huddled on the beach.

Bebe turned to look back at the prostrate figure. “Did you have to cut her tendrils?”

“She is an active enemy who needed to be disabled or killed. We are at war.” Drindl nodded in agreement.

The stress of their situation was wearing down Bebe’s optimism. The loss of the babes and the attack on her person at the queen’s castle was carving out the foundation of hope she had relied on. She gave Alpen a wan smile, accepted his outstretched hand and walked with him up the slope of the beach.

When they got to a sapling, Alpen used the sharp flint rock as a cutting tool, taking turns with Drindl as they sliced through the bark. Alpen then snapped the supple limb and stripped the smaller branch shoots growing from the thin trunk. “It will have to do until we find something stiffer,” Alpen said as he made several stabbing motions.

He dressed one end into a point with the sharp rock and handed the stabbing spear to Drindl. Lifting the spear above his shoulder, the young warrior sent the shaft sailing, but it nosedived into the ground after several warriors’ lengths. “The shaft is curved so it doesn’t fly true,” Drindl lamented. “Good for close combat, though.” He didn’t speak his fear that an attacking wolfbear would snap the sapling. He looked across the chasm at the milling herds of Ibik. “They are a more inviting target than we are, don’t you think?”

Bebe asked, “You think a wolfbear can leap that chasm?” Neither Alpen nor Drindl offered an opinion. She pointed out more young trees along the edge of the ravine. “These trees are three, maybe five, years old, I guess. The ground opened up then and tore out the roots of whatever was growing along this divide.” She stepped forward toward the edge of the ground, then pointed to the dead and gnarled roots that poked out from the vertical sides of the chasm. Down in the canyon further up the slope, she saw a toppled tree, its trunk pointing skyward.

“Food on that side,” Alpen offered. “A wolfbear might be able to climb that chasm.”

“I’m hungry,” Drindl said. He pointed to the fallen tree. “Fresh meat in the canyon. Dead wood. We could use the tree trunk to get back up. We need the energy, and the sun will be down in a few hours. We could stay protected in the ravine.”

Alpen studied the cliff overhang above the fallen tree, then looked to Bebe and Drindl. “If one of us is injured and can’t continue, do we swear to each other that we will leave the injured one behind?”

Bebe looked down at the ground, then directly in Alpen’s eye. “The injured person keeps the stake?” They nodded, then entwined their arms in the warriors’ pact. Bebe had only seen it done, not taken part, so she fumbled the ritual at first and they all laughed, grateful for the gaiety that covered the deadly seriousness of their pact.

Being the younger, Drindl offered to go first. Alpen pointed out a route that avoided the steep overhang and handed the stake to Drindl. “Plant it in that slope midway between here and the tree trunk. We can use it an anchoring point on our ascent back up the slope.”  

They watched as Drindl scaled the cliff and settled on a ledge. “Rocks and hard dirt,” he called to them. “Watch the rocks. Some are sharp.” He began his sideways traverse, planted the stake in the dirt, then continued to the fallen trunk. “Stinks from the dead animals,” he called up, then backed down the tree and onto the ground. He looked east up the sloped ravine and west toward the ocean. “No predators that I see.” He motioned them to come down.

Alpen urged Bebe to go next. She was grateful for the stake that Drindl planted as she crossed to the tree, then shimmied down the trunk and joined Drindl. From the bottom, the chasm looked deeper. “Watch the soft pocket near the stake,” she called up to Alpen.

They watched him come down. He stopped before he got to the stake and reached down to pick up something. “Are you all right?” Bebe asked anxiously. Alpen waved back to them, then continued his path to the tree and joined them on the ground. “Sir, I notice your coat is torn. May I interest you in a fresh hide?” Bebe swept her arm graciously to the rotting carcasses. Her gruesome humor helped lighten their mood.

“It sure does stink here,” Alpen wrinkled his face as the smell invaded his nostrils. “There’s a poor beast over there.” He stepped around the dead Ibik to one whose eyes were glazed with pain. Taking his sharp stone, he slit its throat and ended the misery. “The meat might be a bit off if it has been in this much pain, but we know it is fresh.”

With only the sharpened stone, butchering the animal was a practice in patience. Bebe scoured the ravine east and west looking for other sharp stones that could be used as a knife. She showed one candidate to Alpen, who paused in his cutting to inspect it. “Poor grip.” His voice was disappointed, then he turned it over a few times. “A spear point! Dress this side, angle that. I can cut hide strips and we will lash stone to stick. If you could find more of these, we can make several spears.”

Drindl gathered firewood and built a proper campfire. The muscle had been harder to cut so they ate the organs. Famished for real food, Bebe cautioned them to eat moderately and slow. “If only we had water.”

“We have a container for water,” Alpen pointed to the Ibik bladder hanging from the tree. “We can rinse it out in the ocean, then fill it with fresh water when we come to that.”

After the meal, the setting sun turned their sliver of sky visible above the ravine to dark blue and purple. They sat around the campfire, dressing stones that Bebe had gathered. As the stars came out, they had four spear points and a second cutting blade. Alpen hung his hide strips to dry on the tree.

“This is more comfortable than those prisoner quarters,” Drindl announced as he made himself a sleeping alcove in the dirt.

In the middle of the night, Bebe stirred and looking up at the night sky, whose points of light were dimming behind a herd of moving clouds. She thought she saw the head of an animal at the edge of the cliff above but fell asleep. She woke again when she heard thunder rumbling across the waves and drifting into the canyon where they slept. She drifted in a half sleep until the first rain drops hissed in the embers of the campfire. She nuzzled against Alpen’s back and put her arm around his waist. They would find fresh water today and wash away the salt residue.

Listening to the sound of Alpen’s breathing, something tugged at her attention. The light rain, the soft bed of dirt beneath them. She looked up at the heavy clouds above the ravine and a rain drop splashed into her eye. Suddenly she sat upright. “Alpen, get up.” He grunted awake from a deep sleep. “Drindl, now! Get up!”

He sat up looked along the ravine. “What’s wrong?”

“The rain. It will fill the chasm.” Now Alpen was sitting up next to her. She pointed to several dead Ibik flopped together up the ravine. “The rain fills the channel, then washes the bodies down the chasm.” She walked to the branches and grabbed the hide strips Alpen had hung, then grabbed the bladder and paused as the rain became heavier. “We won’t be able to climb the dirt walls.”

The clouded sky had blocked the moonlight and Alpen fumbled in the dirt for the spear points they had made. He paused, his fingers in the dirt, then stood. “Got them! I can feel a vibration in the dirt.” Now he joined Bebe’s urgency. He boosted her up the fallen tree trunk. “Hug the dirt. Call down when you reach the pole.” He heard a sound at his feet and felt a trickle of water. “Hurry!”

Bebe passed the bladder to Drindl, then put the hide strips in her teeth and climbed the leaning trunk. With little vision, she relied on her instinct, leaving the tree after she came to what she thought was the last of the branches. Facing uphill she traversed to her left side, relieved when she touched the staff. “Get off the tree after the last branch group. Go left, slightly upward,” she called down to them. She turned to her right and the echo of sound in the canyon changed. “Hurry! The water is coming.”

She moved left and up the sloped wall of the chasm, feeling the small rivulets of water flowing down from the ground above. She was relieved when she felt the edge of ground and the grass. “At the top. It’s getting muddy. Be careful.”

She lay on the grass, the rain dashing at her fur as she looked down into the clouded darkness of the canyon. She heard Alpen yell that he had reached the staff but the grunts of the Ibik herd and the thunder sounds from the sky drowned out most of his words. “Here, here,” she called as she waved her arm back and forth. She cried out when Alpen hand gripped her arm.

Alpen came up the cliff edge and lay on his belly for a moment, then swivel around. “Drindl!” he called. “Listen,” he whispered to Bebe. “The water.” There was  no mistaking the rush of water now. From below, they heard Drindl yell out as he reached the staff. Alpen felt the water below him flowing down the ground and into the canyon. “Mud! Be careful!” They called out to Drindl again and again, hoping that he could hear their voices over the sound of rushing water in the canyon below.

Waving his arms, Alpen’s hand struck the staff that Drindl carried. He grabbed the shaft, then felt the bladder that Drindl threw over the edge. Waving his hand, he felt Drindl’s hand and helped pull him to level ground. They put their arms about each other and listened to the sound of water rushing below.

Further uphill, they heard the squeal of a fallen Ibik in the chasm struggling to keep their head above the rising water. When the squeal stopped, Bebe asked, “I have the strips. Staff, bladder, spear points?” Alpen and Drindl confirmed that they had everything.

“I left my tunic hanging on the branch,” Drindl said and they laughed.

“We won’t look,” Bebe assured him. In the dark, they laughed.

“We can’t move until it gets light,” Alpen said. He brought his body around until all three heads were together, their bodies splayed out like three spokes of a wheel. “Does anyone know a good joke?”

Flight or Fight

 

Huddling with Alithea and Erthen behind a fallen tree, Fallon watched the herders out in the field. Until they moved further away, he did not want to attract any attention. Although he listened intently, he couldn’t understand what they were saying. He was surprised when they moved back up the hill. “Let’s go closer to the village. Stay in the trees.”

Dozing off after eating, Erthen wanted to stay curled up in Alithea’s arms. Fallon gathered the boy against him as he threaded his way through the aspen trees. Peering through the trees, he saw the large bird, bigger than an Alsace bird, perched on the dead calf. It tore at the carcass with its curved beak, then surveyed the area, alert to any challenge. Two cows stood at a distance from the bird and carcass, their necks extended, their noses low to the ground, but both were too timid to risk closing the distance between them and the large bird.

Fallon passed Erthen to Alithea and edged closer to the field. Looking up the hill, he saw several herders and cows waiting for the bird to leave the carcass. Fallon did not understand why they didn’t rush the bird. He turned back to Alithea. “I’ve seen no children here. How do we present ourselves? Should you stay hidden?”

“We should keep to the trees, follow the land and work our way inland,” Alithea whispered.

“The desert,” Fallon reminded her.

“We don’t know that it extends this far south,” Alithea argued.

Fallon looked down as Erthen woke up. He had grown more passive, probably frightened of the strange surroundings and sensitive to the stress his parents felt. They should get out of here, take their chances, but he said, “We have no weapons. Our clothes are rags. The others.”

Fallon’s hesitancy disturbed Alithea who reached to touch his arm. “This is our journey. Which way is safer, do you think?”

“The safe way is not the safe way. Stay here. If I am not back by sunset, go down the hill. One of the sleeping quarters is on the right before the beehive ovens. I only heard them speak Dallesa. Say you are with the Washiti. Oh, that reminds me. Sisseku is there. She didn’t recognize me.”

“You tell me now?” Alithea asked in a quiet tone.

“I forgot.” He waved toward the field and the herders.

“Does she know?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to know. There’s so much here that’s odd. Why are there no guards? What are they doing with the cows?”

Alithea leaned in close to him, then gently stroked Erthen’s head. “Our job is to keep him safe, if we can.”

Fallon nodded, pressed his cheek to hers and touched his finger to Erthen’s lip. “Bye, bye, baby boy.” He got up but remained in a defensive crouch as he worked his way to the edge of the clearing again. The bird still perched on the calf carcass.

Fallon stayed within the trees, working his way downhill until he was across the field from the sleeping quarters he had left earlier. Looking up the slope, he could see no herders close by. Crouching low, he crossed part of the field to a tree, then stopped before continuing across the field to the rock where he had stashed the white coat.

Huddling down behind the rock, he noticed several villagers gathered at the bottom of the hill. One gestured up the hill toward the large bird, but none made a move to challenge the bird. What was wrong with these people? He gathered the white coat in his arms, conscious that it was his cover, his pretend identity with these villagers. He hustled back to the tree in the middle of the sloping field. The bird continued to tear at the calf carcass.

He strode out into the field toward the bird with the coat stretched between his arms above his head. He mimicked the cawing and shriek of an Alsace bird as best he could, waving and dodging the coat, simulating a large white bird on two legs. Atop the carcass, the large bird cawed back, lifting its tail and spreading its wings to show its size.

As Fallon approached, he was disappointed when the bird did not abandon his kill. When Fallon swept the cloak toward the white plume of neck feathers, the bird beat its wings as it struck with his beak at the cloth. With two more roundhouse swings of the coat, the bird released his talon grip on the carcass and rose a few feet to attack Fallon from above with its deadly talons.

Fallon’s shouts intermingled with the thrump, thrump of the bird’s wings beating the ear and its shrieks of war. Holding the cloth between his hands he twisted it into a long knot and threw one end at the bird’s legs. The cloth caught the outstretched talons and Fallon pulled hard on the coat, dodging to the side as he upended the bird in mid-air. He hooked the claws of his right foot into the opposite end of the cloth and stomped on the ground, tying the bird to the grass, one wing trapped against the grassy field.

The curved beak came forward, opening slightly to slash into Fallon’s arm, but he brought up the cloth and caught the beak strike. Fallon released his right foot and wrapped the coat around the eagle’s head, pulling tight to restrict the neck movement and keep the bird blinded. A hard twist and the bird went limp. Another hard twist to make sure that the bird was dead, and Fallon let the limp body fall to the ground.

The villagers came running up the hill toward him and Fallon prepared to fight them as well. As they neared, he heard their jubilation. They made short little bows of appreciation. The one who had demanded that Fallon bring firewood handed Fallon a knife and motioned toward the bird’s head wrapped in the white coat, its curved beak sticking through the torn cloth. Fallon wasn’t sure of the ritual, so he unwrapped the head and laid the knife blade against the neck, looking up to make sure he understood. A few nods from the villagers and Fallon cut through the joint between one of the bones. When the head was separated from the body, he extended the bird’s head to the owner of the knife, but he signaled that the head belonged to Fallon. Two villagers carried off the body of the large bird and the others followed behind on their return to the village.

“Should we cut up the calf?” Fallon asked the knife owner.

“We don’t eat meat,” he said.

“May I cut up some of it? I am from the Washiti tribe. We offer up small bits of meat for the little animals in the forest. A way of giving thanks.”

Knife owner smiled. “You speak Dallesa very well. Where did you learn?”

Fallon took a chance. “My cousin is Sisseku. You know her?”

“Of course! She works the oven in the village. I will tell her of your bravery. What is your name?”

“Fallon – ,” he paused, realizing his mistake as the word came out of his mouth. His name would identify him as someone from the northern tribes, not a Washiti or Dallesa. Holding up his tunic, he repeated his name, “fallin’ off me. Do you have a new tunic? Perhaps a new coat?” Quickly he let his mind fumble for the syllables of a likely male name in the Washiti tribe. “My name is Gorsuch. Tell Sisseku we are distant cousins from before the war.”

“Yes. Come with me and I will get you a coat and fresh tunic.”

“Let me do my sacrifice of gratitude to the forest and land. I will come by your oven.”

As knife owner strode down the hill, he turned to cut up some of the carcass. Alithea and Erthen would appreciate the meat. As he bent over the carcass, he heard a grunting moo and the strike of hoof on ground. Looking up, the calf’s mother approached.

Trapped

 

Drindl and Bebe stared at the green hills rising to the sky, dotted with thousands of grazing animals. He tapped her on the shoulder and pointed ahead of them to the left and far upland where the light danced on the hills. The spray from the falling water drifted into the air and sailed north, jewels dancing in the wind.

From the corner of her eye, Bebe saw Alpen turned toward them. The grim look on his face reminded her of their plight. When the sea lion’s body grazed the sandy beach, Bebe hurriedly jumped from the sled and into the shallow water. When the breeze tugged at the shreds of her tunic, she pulled the cloth about her, swiftly tying a knot to secure it while Drindl swung the sled around.

Alpen tugged the Fae warrior off the back of the sea lion, then pinned each hand to the sand and sliced through the finger tendril. Bebe turned away as the warrior screamed, then tore shreds from her torn tunic and helped the woman bandage her hand. “Did you have to?” she asked Alpen.

“Yes, to protect us. The tendril will grow back.” Alpen stood up and looked up at the herds of Ibik dotting the hills.

Bebe cinched the bandage around the Fae’s finger, then stood up. “She’ll die without her finger tendril. We should bring her along wherever we are going.”

Alpen held her shoulders with both hands. “This is war. We need to rescue Mellen, find his family and leave this prison camp.” He pointed down at the Fae crouched on the beach. “She tried to drown us. She will kill us at the first chance.”

The sea lion thrashed on the sand, trying to turn the sled around and swim away. Alpen handed the slicing rock to Drindl who cut the thong binding the sled to the animal. Grunting and barking it slid under the waves and swam to open water.

Alpen turned to Bebe. “We can’t. We live and die by our choices. She must do the same.” He turned to Drindl. “We need to find water that we can drink.” He put his arm around Bebe and walked toward the hills that rose above them.

Behind them, the Fae warrior screamed at them. The slight build of female Faes allowed them to gain quick mastery of many animals, but without their finger tendrils to control the animal, they were defenseless against a predator. When Bebe paused again, Alpen said, “If she is careful and stays along the shoreline, she can make it back to the camp within a day.”

The three of them scrambled up the rise from the beach to a low bluff, then paused to stare at the thousands of Ibik before them. To their left, Alpen pointed out an odd deformity in the rising ground and they followed his lead. As they got closer, they realized that there was a divide and approached the edge cautiously. The chasm was several warriors deep and at the bottom lay dead and dying Ibik, some grunting with the pain of broken limbs.

“An easy meal,” Drindl said as he looked down, “but how do we get out?”

Bebe looked right, following the cut in the ground up the escarpment. “It gets deeper as the land rises.” Pointing toward the spray of water. “We follow this cut until we reach that water.”

“What happened here?” Alpen asked.

Bebe stooped, picked a few blades of grass, and tasted them. “Slight taste of salt. Not enough to kill the grass.” She turned to the north, then looked at the coastline, then pointed to an Ibik licking the ground and eyeing them warily. “The Ibik stop here to feed on the salt, then they move on. They land opened up and they are cut off from the north.”

“That’s why we didn’t see any herds on our way south,” Drindl said.

“Our people will starve without the Ibik herds,” Alpen said as he looked at each of them.

Fresh From The Oven

 

Sisseku showed no recognition of Fallon as she handed him a large flat pan. The smell of the freshly made food wafted into his nostrils and his stomach ached. “Lunch rations for the miners,” she said in a bored tone and turned back to the oven fire. He needed to know what to do with the pan of rations, but an instinct prompted him to duck out of the smoky beehive kitchen.

Approaching the beehives was another elephant. One of the cooks walked out from the first beehive carrying a tray of the miner’s medicine. He glanced at Fallon, then set his tray down on the sled behind the elephant and signaled to Fallon to set his tray on top. The sled was covered with a white apron and Fallon began to fold the cloth over the rations. “No,” the cook said, “pay attention. One more tray.” He motioned Fallon back to Sisseku’s beehive oven.

As Fallon came to the opening of the beehive, a male carrying another tray of rations almost bumped into him. Fallon took the tray, turned around and set it down on the sled, then folded the cloth over the food. Bent over the sled, he glanced behind him to make sure the others had gone back into their beehives, then palmed three rations into his apron. On an impulse, he reached to the bottom level and took a cut piece of miner’s medicine, then tied up the cloth and signaled to the Fae warrior atop the elephant to go.

“Hey, more firewood here!” A cook from another beehive motioned to Fallon. Where was firewood? Fallon started toward him and got halfway down the path along the beehive ovens when the cook yelled impatiently, “Firewood!” and pointed up the hill behind Fallon.

“Sorry. Couldn’t hear you,” Fallon called back. All these people spoke Dallesa, the language of Sisseku’s tribe. Did she know that Mellen was a miner? Why were there no guards here? Why didn’t they all run away?

Fallon turned toward the hill, the one he had come down earlier. He hadn’t noticed any firewood but set off to find it. He found it stacked along a long one-story building at the bottom of the hill. He climbed up on the stacked wood to look inside a window opening.  He saw a row of makeshift wooden cots and bedding, just like a warriors’ barracks.

He shrugged off his white coat, took out the rations and miner’s medicine, and tucked the white coat behind a rock away from the barracks. Crouching low he followed the tree line back up the hill to Alithea and Erthen. His heart sank when he saw they weren’t there. Captured? He instinctively pursed his lips to make the call of a tik-tik bird but stopped. He had not seen any birds since they got here. Would the sound raise an alert?

Seeing a little calf mooing for its mother, he thought he could imitate that sound but would Alithea know that was him? He tried the caw of a tik-tik bird, and it was answered almost immediately. He scanned the tree line on the other side of the clearing. The sound came again from the same approximate location. Alithea could see him but he couldn’t see her. Then he heard a higher pitched caw to signal a warning.

He crawled through the high grass in the field until he came to a large cow. Fallon’s tunic blended with the beige mottling of the cow’s hide. He looked again toward the area where he thought Alithea was and spotted her but dared not signal. The cow beside him watched him with a baleful eye but did not seem concerned by his presence. Until that early morning encounter with one of these creatures, Fallon had not been around a domesticated animal. Working his way from cow to cow, he crossed the field, then ducked inside the cover of the trees.

Alithea shushed Erthen when Fallon rejoined them, then gave him an earnest hug. Fallon drew out the rations. “You move back with into the trees with Erthen. I’ll keep watch.”

Alithea took the ration and bit into it greedily. “We had to,” she stopped as she saw the white square in his hand. “Where did you get that? That looks like what they give the miners.”

“It is. They make it down there. They called it the miner’s medicine.”

“Don’t touch it. You’ll absorb the medicine through your skin.”

Fallon looked down at the white square in his hand. “It’s been wrapped in my tunic most of the time.”

“Good, bury it,” Alithea said, then paused. “No, the animals might dig it up. It might harm them.”

Fallon wrapped his tunic around the white square. “Go. Eat. I’ll watch.”

“There are herders up here. I had to move. They went up the hill. I think they were looking for strays.”

 “Go, eat,” he urged again, and she took Erthen with her. He was a good boy, staying quiet when she asked him to. Not speaking was the first lesson a Jade child had to learn as soon as they could speak.

Fallon turned toward the clearing, tearing a piece of ration with his teeth. He heard shouts from further up the hill and huddled down, alert to danger. He saw only a dancing cloak of shadow on the ground, then a large dark brown bird swept down and sank its talons into a young calf. The young body dangled still from the grip of the talons as the bird tried to regain flight. Wings beating furiously, the large bird carried and dragged the calf partway down the hill and out of Fallon’s sight. As the shouts of herders crashed through the mid-morning air, he turned away from the clearing, creeping toward Alithea and Erthen.

Out to Sea

 

“We shouldn’t be separated,” Bebe stated, but there with a note of pleading in her voice.

“In war we take what the winds and the enemy allow,” Alpen said as he raised her hand to his lips. He glanced over her shoulder at the Cawthingi guards who gathered and sorted the prisoners into work crews.

“Darden, Bella gone. That tore my heart apart. I told myself we can have more children. Now Alithea, Fallon, Erthen. We have to stay together.”

Alpen kept his voice down. “Women only on the pier crew. The women work the river crew. It’s easier work. We won’t be too far away.” He hoped.

Bebe stepped behind Drindl, blocking her from the guards as they jabbed their prod sticks at the prisoners. Facing away from him, she unwrapped her sarong, tore it and rewrapped it to give more freedom to her legs as male prisoners did.

Drindl stammered, “Bebe, what…”

She  turned to Drindl, shouting curse words at him, then backed away in wide stances, then gestured to him as though she were ready to fight.

Drindl was shocked, looking first at Bebe then sideways at Alpen. Alpen rushed forward to control and protect Bebe, afraid that the guards would punish her for acting out. She pushed him away, keeping her arms out from her body and making threatening gestures. Two of the guards came forward and one rapped Bebe on the back of her calf. She made a last aggressive gesture to Drindl, then turned to join the male work crew. When Alpen paused in shock, the other guard hit him in the butt with the point of his prod stick. Drindl and Alpen joined the same crew, bringing up the rear. The guards yelled to the Fae warrior atop the elephant and the Sprints joined the parade down the sandy road to the south.

Walking behind Bebe, Alpen glanced at Drindl, pointed to her exaggerated walk and whispered, “Don’t overdo it.” Bebe reached behind her with one hand and signaled her acknowledgment.

Drindl whispered, “We all look the same to them, I guess.”

Again, Bebe repeated her acknowledgment.

Breaking for lunch at the midday, all three of them sat together and ate their cakes. Bebe flexed her right arm which was cramping from the weight of the stones she had to carry. “You get bigger portions that the women do,” Bebe commented.

“This takes more work,” Drindl said.

Bebe laughed and nodded. “I don’t know if I can do this all day.” Holding the flat slab of pressed food to her nose, she said, “It tastes different. Not bad. Different.”

“Maybe they give us the same stuff as the miners?” Alpen asked.

Bebe stared closely at both. “Your eyes would be speckled blue. You don’t feel strange, do you? Alithea said she felt really strange after handling the miner’s medicine.”

Alpen looked to Drindl and shrugged. “It’s maybe a little bit like the energy before battle. A lift. A communion with the other workers, with the rocks.”

Drindl echoed that. “Yeah, solidarity. That’s a good term. Maybe they put just a little bit in our food.”

“Let me see if it helps me with more energy this afternoon,” Bebe said, swallowing the last of her portion. She looked to Alpen, following his gaze toward the end of the rock pier jutting out into the ocean. A Fae rider on a sea lion had snagged her empty pallet on the jumble of stones that made up the pier. The pallet sank partially below the water. Alpen turned left, closer to shore where a sea lion pulled a pallet fully loaded with rocks.

“Drindl, you’ve been here longer than we have. How do these rocks float?”

“They skin the sea lions,” Drindl said. “Then they blow them up with air.”

Alpen looked at him. “Those heavy rocks float on air?” His voice was incredulous, then he took the last bite of his lunch.

Bebe added, “That’s why we sometimes see a dead Ibik floating on water. But who blows them up with air? Alithea would know all this.” Her shoulders dropped and she reached out to Alpen.

“Don’t touch me,” he warned. “They’ll notice.” She abruptly drew her arm back, then swatted her face as though bit by a bug.

“You and I will have more children, I promise,” Alpen said as he stared out to the sea. “You will act out wonderful stories.”

She lowered her voice as best she could. “Tell them about the day their mom was a warrior.”

            Alpen gave her a sidelong look while Drindl laughed. The sound signaling the end of lunch echoed across the waves. Bebe lowered herself into the knee-high water and turned to the shore where more rocks waited to be loaded.

She worked with Alpen, Drindl and one other as they loaded the sleds, then held on to the rear as a Fae warrior mounted on a sea lion pulled the load out to the end of the pier. On the first load after lunch, Alpen reached under the sled, feeling for the skin bladder that kept the load skimming the water’s surface.

On this first afternoon load, they had to wait while another crew unloaded their pallet. When it was their turn, they worked in pairs unloading the rocks onto the breakwater while the Fae warrior waited. When done, Drindl and Bebe got onto the sled with the other prisoner. They waited while Alpen pushed the front of the sled clear from the rocks. Without warning, he jumped astride the sea lion, just behind the Fae warrior. Bebe was thrown onto her back as the sled jerked forward. She grabbed for the other prisoner as he slid into the water, not realizing at first that Drindl had pushed him off.

The Fae commanded the sea lion to submerge but the air bladders beneath the sled limited the sea lion’s depth. As they got beyond the protection of the southern breakwater, Bebe and Drindl held on as the sled bounced on the waves. Sensing the danger of capsizing, Drindl motioned to her to take a position that would help balance the sled. Glancing toward the shore she saw that Alpen was taking them further south around the curve of land.

As the wind tore at her fur, Bebe dared not twist her head and torso to see Alpen. She was deathly afraid of disappearing beneath the surface of this great body of water just as a flash of light winks out in the night sky. As she sensed the sled’s slowing speed, she was hopeful that the terror might end soon. She wanted only to plant her feet firmly on the sand, and to hug her partner. Feeling more balanced on the sled, she twisted slightly to look at Alpen. His frame hid the Fae warrior, but his elbow jutted out the side. Bebe guessed that he held a sharp object to the Fae’s body.

Drindl looked at her and she signaled she was unhurt. The coastline curved and the waves came toward the shoreline at an angle. Drindl tapped her on the leg and pointed to the coast. She glanced quickly, not wanting to lose her balance, then took a second and longer look at the vista before her. She looked sideways at Drindl who squinted in the sunlight reflecting off the water. As they drew closer to the shore, she leaned over to him and asked, “Are those Ibik?” She had never seen that many animals together.

Village of Ovens

 

Fallon stayed close to the trees as they moved along the furrowed plateau, alert for predator movement. He and Alithea spoke in whispers as she carried Erthen close to her. A chill breeze from the ocean rustled across the plateau and she wanted to keep him warm.

Just past sunset, Alithea looked to the sky, searching for the figure of an Alsace bird on its evening hunt. “Why are there no birds here?”

Fallon scanned the sky as they continued south. “I haven’t seen any birds since we got here. No faeries either. Maybe they hunt them?” His gaze moved to the ground in search of shelter, a cave perhaps.

To their left was an outcropping of rock and beyond that an open field that would hold several hundred warriors in battle. He nudged Alithea and limped toward the outcrop, wanting to rest his knee. The staff would be a poor weapon against a predator. Perhaps he could find some rock flakes that he could fashion into a slashing knife.

Nestled behind some smaller evergreens he saw an area below a rock overhang. Not a cave and somewhat protected. The curve of the cliff would bring the sound of pursuit to their ears. A place to rest his knee.

“We can’t talk here. Our voices,” she motioned with her hand, indicating a bouncing from the rocks.

He showed her the curve of the rocks ascending above them. “They will think we went north, but we can hear them coming from here. Our backs are protected. Not a predator’s shelter. I need to rest.”

She nodded, demurring to his tracking instincts. Erthen was hungry, making a “unga-unga” sound to inform his parents of that fact. Alithea held the boy close to her face. “Listen to you and talking in the Jade language.” Turning to Fallon, she said, “I don’t want him learning prisoner language.”

Fallon was sure that “unga-unga” a universal language, but he was pleased to see her pleased. “Let me find him something to eat.”

“First your knee. Sit.” Alithea handed him the boy and inspected the knee, prodding and probing for pain.

When Alithea hit a spot on the side of his knee, Fallon yelped an instinctual “Oww!” and Erthen echoed him.

“That’s five words he knows,” Alithea smiled. “Nothing serious but you should rest it overnight. I’ll find us something to eat, I hope.”

In the last of the civil twilight, she searched for berries. Periodically scanning the area, Fallon taught Erthen the “ow” family of words in a soft voice. They had practiced bow, pow, cow, and how when Alithea returned with a handful of berries.

“It’s late summer. They will be sweet.” She placed a few in Erthen’s mouth and he made a bouncing motion as he chewed. She pried his lower lip down to inspect his teeth in the dim light, then waited until he had finished chewing and felt the length of his teeth. From inside her sarong, she gave him an anschloss leaf to chew on.

“He’s too young,” Fallon protested, knowing the pain relief of the plant.

“Late summer leaf. Not as powerful. It will help his hunger. We need to rest.” She handed Fallon several leaves, then ate some herself.

Sitting back against the rock alcove, they drifted into the starry sky as Erthen fell asleep on Fallon’s lap. The plant insulated them from their anxiety and tiredness, freeing them to feel a sense of peace that rose from their minds like smoke into the dreamshadow sky.

He clutched Erthen in his arms as the grunt rumbled over his face. The low rumble reminded him of the sound of his dad’s sharpening wheel as Fallon pumped the treadle with his foot. His dad would draw a leaf down over a blade he had sharpened, and the leaf parted as though by magic.

In the near light, he realized he had rolled over on his side. Opening his eyes, he saw a shaggy mountain of brown and white hair sniffing at him. He drew back against the rock, kicking Alithea in the process. “Shush,” he urged as she awoke.

“It’s a cow,” he heard her say, with no fear in her voice. Erthen echoed the word “cow” and Alithea ran a gentle hand over the top of his head. “Six words.” Fallon had heard the word but never seen one. As he sat up, the cow swung its large head to the side.

“Ooh, a calf,” Alithea said. Seeing the young animal, Erthen pointed and said, “cow-cow.” She leaned toward him. “Calf,” she repeated twice, but he only bounced his arms and said “cow.”

The small animal bleated and reached under his mother’s belly to drink. “Can Erthen drink milk?” Fallon asked.

“He can. We can’t.” On her knees she came around on the other side of the cow, then took hold of a teat opposite the one the calf sucked on. Squeezing a little liquid into her hand, she returned to her position next to Fallon and Erthen. Reaching out her palm to the boy, she let him lap up the warm milk. He clapped his hands at the taste, and she squeezed out two more palmfuls until the cow turned and ambled back into the pasture.

“These animals are used to People. There must be herders nearby,” she said.

In the growing light of early morning, they found a greater supply of berries. They ate greedily, careful not to get the berry stains on their clothes. Alithea picked some more anschloss leaves and tied them into the cloth of her sarong. They stayed on the edge of the pasture, ears alert to the sounds of herders over the occasional grunts of cows and the bleats of anxious calves.

They approached a ridge cautiously, inching forward on their knees until they peered out on the valley below. The most distinctive buildings of the town were a series of tall beehive shaped buildings, smoke curling out of the tops. White bodied figures moved among the buildings and Alithea saw an elephant waiting, a sled harnessed behind it. The smell of food awoke their hunger.

Fallon looked behind them at the cows feeding in the pasture. “I could steal down there, get something for us to eat,” Fallon suggested.

She shook her head. “Too dangerous.”

“We need to eat. We’ll get lightheaded. It’s the only way to protect Erthen.”

She looked at Fallon, her face clouded with doubt. “We can’t survive on late summer berries and anschloss leaves,” she agreed. He kissed the top of Erthen’s head, then took Alithea’s hand. “Go, before I change my mind.”

“You two,” he said. “Out of sight,” and pointed to the cover of the trees. Glancing around him, he hurriedly made his way to the pasture edge and followed the tree line to the village below.

The bustling figures were divided into two groups, those who brought kindling to feed the beehive ovens and those in white coats who handled the food ingredients. His stomach ached at the smell of food cooking and he waited a moment to quell his instincts.

Two People clad in white emerged from a larger building, carrying a pallet of food between them, and set it on the sled behind the elephant. The head of the great beast moved from side to side and it lifted its trunk and grunted. A Fae warrior who sat atop the beast looked behind her, glanced around, then jumped down to the ground and ran to get a cake of the freshly baked food. She placed the warm morsel against its lips and Fallon saw it disappear into the large mouth. Using the curled trunk of the elephant as a stepping stool, she jumped on the beast’s forehead, then settled in behind his head, leaned forward and inserted her finger tendrils into the beast’s ears. The same two people came again with another pallet and set it on the first.

Seeing a white coat draped over the fence, Fallon walked casually from his hiding spot to the fence and donned the coat, relieved that it fit. He scooped up several cakes from the pallet and walked over to the elephant, offering yet another cake to the animal. The long eyelashes blinked as they looked at Fallon and he thought he was looking into the eye of a Person.

“Stop, what are you doing?” yelled the Fae warrior. “I gave him something already.”

Fallon patted the trunk of the elephant affectionately and backed away, bowing to the anger and authority of the warrior. She made a sharp whistle and the elephant stepped forward. As she rode past Fallon, she looked down at him with scorn. In the white coat, he was an anonymous worker. Seeing a large pot nearby, he picked it up and turned to the nearest beehive oven. He paused outside the entrance, listening to two voices, letting the sounds and rhythms wash through his ears. The language of the Washiti people, a southern tribe who lived inland from the Dallesa that Alpen’s brother had gone to live with.

“Water?” Fallon asked as he stepped through the entrance. He assumed that cooks would use water.

Holding a long handle, a Person turned toward him. His companion held some green shoots in his hand.

“Water?” Fallon asked again.

The companion looked down to a nearby container and motioned with his elbow. “Thanks, we’re good. Are you new?”

“Yeah, I was helping the guys load the sled. They said to make myself useful.” Fallon held up his pot.

“Which load?” asked the person with the handle.

“Pier building crew, I think. Lunch meal.” Fallon felt like he was dancing on sharp stones, about to give himself away as an imposter with his next word.

“Check with the crew next door,” long handle said. “We’re both cooking up the medicine for the miners. We’ll be done in a little bit.”

Fallon took a chance. “The school has its lunch rations?”

Herb in his hand shook his head. “Not today. Something happened there yesterday. No school today. Those are the last two ovens. You don’t need to check on them.”

Fallon nodded, remembering everything they had said as he continued onto the next beehive oven. “The guys next to you said to check if you need water.” Two white gowns turned toward him. Fallon’s mouth dropped. It was Sisseku.