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.