Eyes Open

 

“Sisseku, you’ve done this before. I mean, cook for the queen. Does it happen often?” Fallon followed behind the litter as the elephant plodded up the hill to the queen’s palace. He wanted to ask her about Mellen but didn’t want to offend her.

“We make their daily meals, but not like this.” She gestured to the roasted calf carcass. “My partner was good at roasting meat, particularly the Ibik.”

“Yes, where are the Ibik?” Fallon asked.

“The queen and her kind. They have cut off the passage to the northern valley. They hope to drive the tribes from the mountains.”

Fallon had so many questions. How could anyone block the great herds of Ibik? “Your partner? He’s not here with you?”

“They put him to work in the mine. He had an accident.”

“I saw your face light up when the boy sang,” Fallon said. “You have a child here in the village?”

“No, they took the boy to school. He got sick and died. That’s what they told me.” Fallon suspected that the boy was also working at the mine. “Tell me, how did you come here?”

Fallon hesitated, then stalled for time by rubbing his forehead with his hand. How much had he told her? When lying, stick to reality as much as possible. “I was on a boat, fishing in the ocean.”

“I thought you said you were with the Washiti tribe?” Sisseku asked. “They are far inland. Herders, I thought.”

Lying was such hard work. “My father. We argued. I can’t tend his herd all my life. I need my own herd if I can attract a partner.”

“Yes, that is so.”

“At first, I went south of the Dallesa tribe, then I met someone who was originally from the Cawthingi tribe. Fishing was so much easier than herding, he said. I helped him build a boat.”

“He fooled me. He just wanted to get back to his tribe, the Cawthingi up north.”

“The breakwater pier they have built out into the ocean has diverted the fish schools. Most of the Cawthingi have come south. Not enough fish.”

Fallon guessed she had been here at least a year. He wanted more information but dare not be truthful with her. As far as she knew, Sisseku had lost her partner and her child to these beasts. Why wasn’t she angry? Where did her loyalties lie? Fallon was in too vulnerable a position to trust her. “There were Cawthingi guards who captured us.”

“Where did your friend go?”

“The guards took him away somewhere.”

“He used you to get back to his people,” Sisseku said. The haunch of the calf began to come loose from the bindings on the pallet. She made a piercing whistle and the elephant slowed. They resecured the carcass and Sisseku whistled again and took a position again behind the travois. She pointed to the long building at the top of the hill. “The barracks. Have you been to the castle before?”

What was his story? Stay close to reality, he reminded himself. “Uh, no.” How to steer the conversation back to Mellen? “Did you partner help build the palace?”

She looked sideways at him. “That’s the palace and the barracks of Marten, the leader of all the tribes before the war. Do they talk of Marten in the Washiti tribe?”

Pretend casual, Fallon told himself. “Yes, a great warrior, I hear.” He shrugged. “My father only mentioned him a few times, I’m afraid.”

“Marten was a great warrior, but he underestimated the humans, the queen’s kind.”

“He knew of the humans?” Fallon asked. “I had never heard of them.”

“You are from a southern tribe and never heard of the humans?”

Fallon grew cautious at the suspicion in her voice. “As a child, I heard of them. I thought they were myths meant to scare children.”

She laughed. “They are fearsome in battle, I am told. They have better weapons. The elephants are formidable.”

“They fight?” Fallon was incredulous. They looked like slow, lumbering beasts on the trail.

“The southern tribes, the Dallesa and the Washiti, laid down their arms when the elephants battered down their defenses. You are lucky you left your family, or they would have put you to work in the mine.” They were coming to the steep rise to the plateau where the queen’s compound and soldiers’ barracks stood. Sisseku leaned into her staff to steady her up the ascent up the path. She looked at his hands and Fallon’s easy stride. “You stand like a warrior. Why did they send you to the village to cook?”

Fallon scrambled for a reason and couldn’t find one. He built on his previous lie. “I was surprised also. Maybe the Cawthingi who tricked me into building the boat said a good word for me. I am a good woodcutter, not a warrior. I climb hills like this often.”

She nodded, her breath labored as she spoke, “Watch the calf carcass as we go reach the plateau.”

Fallon stayed close by, steadying the load as the pallet tipped and settled on the flat plain. When he straightened up, he saw a dozen of the human warriors standing together outside the barracks. They were dressed much like the two warriors that he and Drindl had killed and buried. Fallon steadied his breath. He might have been able to fool Sisseku with his story of being a herder and woodcutter, but these warriors would recognize him as one accustomed to battle.

The Mission

 

At sunup, Drindl returned to the pinkle tree with his treasure, some root tubers that he had taken from a gorgy. He shook Alpen and Bebe awake, then held out the cleaned tubers for their inspection. “There’s some water down the hill,” he added. “I cleaned them up. He was eating them so they should be all right.”

Bebe took one and bit into the stringy meat. “How did you know where to look?”

“A gorgy was digging them up. He would have make good eating, but we don’t have any fire tools. We wrestled.” He held up his arm to inspect it. “He grazed me with his teeth, I think.”

Bebe looked at the arm. “He didn’t break the skin. You were up early.”

Drindl had a sheepish look. “I, uh, couldn’t sleep well.”

Bebe smiled. “It’s good, Drindl. They’ve been putting something in our food. I think our fast helped purge it from our bodies.”

Chewing the fibrous roots, Alpen looked around. “Nothing to carry this fruit or the roots.” He looked down at what was left of his tunic. It was too dirty. “Show me the water. I’ll clean this and we’ll use it as a satchel.” He took off the tunic, put the pinkle fruit in the dirty tunic. Bebe and he followed Drindl down the hill until they came to pond at the bottom of the slope. After rinsing his tunic and the pinkle fruit, he made a makeshift satchel. Bebe rinsed her tunic, then threw it over her shoulder.

“Put it on,” Alpen insisted.

“It’s wet,” Bebe protested.

“We’re not animals,” Alpen said. Bebe looked at him, daring him to go on. There was a tone of desperation in his tone, as he glanced at Drindl. “Please. We don’t have much left.” Drindl looked away and she shrugged the tunic on.

They walked back to the pinkle tree where a gorgy snuffled and chewed the pinkle fruit they had left. Its head lifted, saliva and pinkle bits falling from the broad snout as it huffed at them. “You would make good eating, fatso,” Alpen laughed. Their mood lifted despite the loss of some of the fruit.

They continued north, trusting that the mine was beyond the forest before them. They stopped at the trumpet of an elephant ahead. “We’re here to get Mellen,” Alpen said. “Our weapon is stealth.”

//////////

“I’ll put my sword down.” When Drindl laid an invisible sword on the ground, Bebe laughed. Alpen wasn’t amused. “Sorry,” Drindl said to his mentor. In advance of battle, Alpen was shifting the dynamic between he and Drindl.

Bebe pointed to the sky above the treetops. “What is that? Bugs?” The wind had shifted toward them and a haze drifted over the forest. It was the first thing they had seen flying in the air since they arrived. As they neared the forest’s edge, it was less noticeable, and they picked a wandering path through the evergreen trees. The trees thinned and they came on a stand of leafed trees. Bebe picked a few yellowing leaves, rubbing them between her fingers. “This isn’t autumn yellowing. Maybe bugs.”

Drindl inspected the bark closely. “I don’t see any bore holes.”

They both turned to Alpen when he said, “Energy dust.” He took another lick, then nodded. He held a leaf to Drindl, who took a taste, and agreed.

“Let me try. I’ve only had a taste or two in my lifetime,” Bebe said. Only warriors ate energy, but she had secretly tried some when she was younger. One of her friends said that a woman couldn’t have baby girls if she ate energy, while others disagreed. She cautiously touched the leaf to her tongue, then spit. “It’s bitter.” Alpen and Drindl smiled as they waited. “Oh, wait,” Bebe said, “there’s a spicy, sugary something.”

“That’s energy,” Alpen said. “Even in these small concentrations, there’s nothing that tastes like it.” He looked at the branches above. “The dust is blocking some of the sunlight, slowly killing these trees. Hey, where are you, Drindl?”

“Here.” He stood at one of the evergreen trees, peering at the bark. “The needles won’t hold much energy, but it’s enough to repel bugs that want to eat these trees. The energy is good for the evergreens, but it's killing the leaf trees.”

“I didn’t know you knew so much about trees,” Bebe said.

“I was training to be a farmer, but then I got a growth spurt and Sarten wanted me in the warriors.” Even Alpen was surprised.

“We have a few makeshift spears and some pinkle fruit and roots,” Alpen said. “The energy will help.” He looked at a leaf. “Maybe. Don’t know how much energy is really on these leaves.”

“I’ll bet this killed the faeries we saw yesterday,” Bebe said. “They were breathing it in.”

“This is why there are no birds,” Drindl said. “No bugs. Nothing that is small and flies in the air. Larger animals like the gorgy this morning are not bothered.”

“We’ll have to lick a lot of leaves,” Alpen said. He picked some and handed them to Bebe, but she shook her head. “We need every advantage.”

“But I won’t be able to have any girls if I eat energy,” Bebe protested.

“My mother was a warrior,” Drindl said. “I have a sister, so I don’t think that’s true about the girl babies.”

Bebe turned to him. “Your mother was a warrior? I didn’t know women could be warriors.”

“There’s not many,” Drindl admitted. “She fought with the Glade tribe.”

“Your mother is a Glade?” Alpen asked incredulously.

“Was. She died in that dispute with the Cawthingi over trade routes.”

“Sarten knew your mother was a Glade?”

“I think so. He knew my dad. He’s Jade.”

“Drindl, we have spent months with you, and you are a mystery,” Bebe said. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

He shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

“How many nights we sat around the cooking fire trading stories and you didn’t tell us your mother was a warrior?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was a traitor or something,” he said.

Bebe shook her head,  then turned to Alpen and took some more leaves out of his hand. “Tell me when to stop.”

“You can’t have as much as we do. You’re not used to it,” Alpen said. He looked ahead. “The mine isn’t too far. The energy will be taking effect as we get there.”

 

The Mash

 

“Shhhh,” Alithea whispered to Erthen as she ground the berries into a paste. Earlier that morning, he had been humming. Now he was singing babble lullabies, notes without distinct words. It wouldn’t be long before he was talking. She began speaking, knowing that the vibration of her throat would distract him.

“The stain. What will I do about the stain?” She kept one ear perked for the return of Sisseku to the hut. Alithea had lied about not being able to see in the shadows of a beehive oven. She had needed privacy to mash the berries. She looked at her hands stained with the red juices of the berries. “Oh, Erthen, your mummy forgot about the stain.” He rocked in the papoose, his palms on her neck, humming to the sound of her voice.

She put the berry mash in the small stomach pouch she had found, then inspected it for any tears. Hearing sounds outside the hut, she stuffed it in the front of her papoose. The stain! She picked up the blade, gauged a spot on her hand that would be the least inconvenient and cut. The blood oozed out from the back of her palm and she smeared it over the stain on her palms and fur, then lay the knife down as Sisseku entered the hut.

“We are finishing up the last of the preparations…” Sisseku stopped when she saw Alithea’s hand.

“I cut myself,” Alithea held out her hand, a few drops oozing from the cut. “I’m so glad I didn’t get any in the medicine.”

Sisseku understood little of what she said, but rushed to a shelf, pulled a cloth, then wrapped it around Alithea’s hand. She smiled her appreciation.

“What a clumsy doctor,” Alithea said and Erthen mimicked the syllables “dotter.” Sisseku pointed to her mouth, then to Erthen, and Alithea nodded. She gestured to the pale green mash of the hazel fury leaves, then made a cupping with her palms, and Sisseku brought her a smooth clay pestle and helped Alithea scoop the paste in the pestle. Sisseku tightened the cloth around Alithea’s hand then led her outside.

Fallon and two villagers had loaded the cooked calf on a travois. At the far end of a village, a Fae warrior came riding an elephant with a traveler’s hut mounted on top. Fallon turned to Alithea and spoke formally as though they were strangers, ”We shall accompany the feast.” Alithea nodded, giving Fallon a brief questioning look. “You will ride.” He pointed to the hut. “We will accompany the feast.” He turned to Sisseku who handed the pestle to Alithea.

Fallon and Sisseku hitched the travois to the elephant, then led Alithea to a berm beside the elephant. Sisseku stayed close by and took the papoose from Alithea. Fallon stayed in character, not showing any familiarity. He held the pestle while she climbed the ladder, then handed her the papoose. Recognizing his dad, Erthen babbled a sing song about “daddy, daddy, daddy.”

Alarmed, Alithea reached for Erthen and sang along, “Dotter, dotter, daffy dotter, daffy, daffy, daffy. Cut her finger with a knife and laughy, laughy, daffy.” Sisseku clapped her hands in delight, repeating the rhyme. At Fallon’s puzzled look, Alithea gave him a look of relief, then disappeared inside the traveler’s hut. As she held Erthen close to her chest, she felt the quick beat of her heart.

Fruited Plain

 

Hunger drove Alpen, Bebe and Drindl down the southern slope toward the ravine. Some late summer leaves from a bala tree relieved the worst pangs until they neared the edge of the deep cut in the land. At this distance inland from the ocean, the divide was wider. On the far side several dozen Ibik grazed on the still green pastures. The herds straggled to the east along the divide, their tufted tails sweeping into the air as they ambled and fed.

Alpen’s shoulders sagged as he saw the widening gulf between them and food. “The ground on the far side is lush. On this side rocky.”

“A god imprisoned below the earth broke free,” Drindl offered.

Bebe nodded, remembering the stories. “The energy in the dirt where we slept last night. The food of the gods? That’s what Altiss’ mother told us. When warriors eat energy, they tap the  god power.”

Alpen looked to Drindl. “We could use some now to take away our hunger.”

Bebe shook her head. “We need real food.” She paused, touching Alpen’s arm and making the gesture for silence. “Water,” she whispered. The faint sound of rushing water echoed in the air. She moved downslope toward the rim of the divide, carefully keeping her balance on the rocky ground. As she neared the rim, she didn’t trust her balance, so she knelt and lay down, moving cautiously to the edge. Looking to the east, the pasture on the far side sloped away. On her side, the wall of the gorge was vertical and led down to a sparkle of water at the bottom. She crawled back from the edge and stood, turning back to look at Alpen who was alone.

“Where’s Drindl?” she asked after climbing the slope.

“He went looking for food,” Alpen pointed to the northeast and toward the valley where they had seen the elephants. “What did you see?”

“The gorge is deep here, but the land slopes away on the far side.” Her arm swept from the south to the east. “To the east, I think the Ibik are being blocked from coming north through the elephant valley.”

Alpen squinted into the distance. “Where the valley narrows? I can’t see where it meets the ravine.”

“The elephants come away from the mine, then follow the valley to the south.” She turned toward the ravine. “Many Ibik on that side. None on this side.” She turned to the north. “The prisoner camp is north of the mine.”

“Without the Ibik, the northern tribes will starve this winter.” Alpen looked at Bebe, then clutched her to him as he stared north. They heard Drindl call out. He came up the slope, holding something in his arms. Alpen and Bebe moved down the rocky slope toward him.

“I don’t know what it is, but it tastes good.” Drindl’s voice was enthusiastic as he knelt and let the round fruit fall to the ground.

Bebe picked it up, felt the smooth skin and smelled the stem that had attached the fruit to the branch. “Pinkle fruit, I think.” She searched her memory and turned to Drindl. “A large tree?” she asked.

Drindl sank his teeth into the fruit, then turned and pointed toward the elephant valley. “It’s not so rocky and the ground is less steep.”

Alpen knelt to pick up another. Bebe stopped him. “Don’t you think we should wait? It’s an unfamiliar food. There could be something wrong.”

Alpen motioned to Drindl. “He looks fine. Your belly hurt?”

Drindl swept his arms back, pooched out his belly, and staggered a few steps, mimicking a Faerie who has eaten too much energy. They all laughed. Bebe took a bite from the fruit, surprised at the delightful sweetness that burst into her mouth. When Alpen reached for a third fruit, she insisted that he wait. “Let’s take these back to the tree.” She looked at the western sky. “We can gather more fruit before sunset, then sleep.”

Energized by the food, Alpen climbed the rough bark of the pinkle tree. Edging out from the trunk he picked fruit and tossed them down to Bebe and Drindl. When they had a small pile of the fruit, he climbed down. As the sun dimmed, the evening air cooled. Bebe lifted her nose into the breeze. “The scent of autumn coming.”

“We need to find my brother, get some clothes and get out of here,” Alpen said as he flared out his torn tunic. “Not much protection from the cold.”

Drindl mimicked Alpen, sweeping his arms away from his body as though he wore an invisible tunic.  “The color is too dark. What do you think?” Bebe and Alpen laughed.

“We’ll sleep side swaddle,” Alpen suggested. “Bebe in the middle.” Drindl faced forward, protecting his chest against the night cold. Bebe tucked in behind him and Alpen tucked in behind her. It didn’t take long before they were asleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Bebe felt the cool air on her chest. During the night, they had tossed and turned, losing the heat saving snuggle. She scooched back to feel Alpen’s warmth and felt his stiffness. She turned to him, calling his name softly to wake him up. When she touched him, he came fully awake, his hips arching towards hers. “You’re back,” she said as she held his face in her hands. “It’s something they were putting in our food.”

Bitter Harvest

 

Sisseku showed no recognition of Alithea, who had been young when Alpen’s brother left the Jade tribe to journey south and live with his new partner among the Dallesa tribe. Alithea followed Sisseku to the living quarters at the bottom of the hill. Sisseku bid her to sit with Erthen while she searched a closet.

After rummaging a bit, Sisseku held out a basket weave papoose. “Do you speak Jade?”

Alithea faltered, not knowing the jumble of half-truths that Fallon might have told Sisseku. “I am from the north,” she answered in the Jade language.

Sisseku’s smile was sad and weary. “My partner was from also from that tribe,” she answered in a stilted but fluent Jade.

“Is he here with you?” Alithea asked.

“He died at the mine,” she answered and motioned to Alithea to stand up, then fitted the papoose over Alithea’s shoulders. “This was our daughter’s. I think your son will fit it quite nicely.” The harness had a large compartment for a small child in the back and a small compartment in the front.

Alithea wanted to turn and tell Sisseku that Mellen was alive but dared not. She remembered Alpen’s admonition, “We are at war, a slow war” and did not let her guard down. “Thank you,” she said and leaned down to pick Erthen up. Sisseku took the boy and placed him in the papoose, facing forward and Alithea flexed her knees to let Erthen find his balance on her back.

Sisseku gave him a little treat. “You are a good boy!” She patted the small compartment over Alithea’s chest, then dropped a few treats in. She filled a small bladder with fresh water and set it in the front pouch.  

Alithea nodded, pleased at the construction and thoughtfulness. “Did your partner make this? It’s a little home.”

Sisseku smiled. “I am a good weaver. You will not be here long, or I could teach you.”

“Where am I going?” Alithea asked.

“To the queen’s palace this afternoon. After that,” she shrugged. “You can keep the papoose.”

Sisseku stayed in the village to help Fallon cook the calf. An older village woman tied a long leash under the harness of the papoose and gave the other end to the Fae warrior who sat astride a wolfbear. She led Alithea away from the village, the wolfbear following close behind. The closeness of the wolfbear did not bother Erthen, who hugged Alithea’s neck with one arm while he held his treat with the other.

After a short journey through the forest, they came on another clearing and the old woman pointed to several bushes. Alithea recognized the hazel fury plant and nodded to the old woman, who pointed downslope and signaled that she would look for more plants.

Alithea knelt and gathered leaves from the hazel fury plant. Ground into a paste, it was a good wound antiseptic. Withdrawing the bladder with water, Alithea took a sip, then handed a treat back to Erthen, who snatched it from her. She stuffed the hazel fury leaves into the front pouch of the papoose, working quickly to pick the ripe leaves.

Through the tall grass Alithea saw a flash of red. She looked back at the Fae warrior seated on the wolfbear, then downslope but could not see the old woman. She turned back to the guard and tapped on her leash, motioning to the spot. She felt the slight tug of the leash at her shoulders as it dragged through the tops of the tall grass.

She recognized the purpury berry. It was not really a medicine but a wonderful treat that would soon spoil. Her heart raced when she saw the tiny gray specks on the berries. During her medical training, Altiss' mother had warned the students not to pick such berries. They carried the plague that had killed many of their people long ago.

She stood up, ready to move on. Erthen reached over her shoulder to pick one of the berries. She caught his hand, took the berry, then wiped his fingers clean. She took two of his fingers in her mouth and sucked to make sure that they were clean, then took a drink from her pouch and spit it out to clear any poison residue from her mouth.

She glanced at the Fae warrior who seemed distracted by something high up in the tree canopy. In the stillness of the autumn day, she felt a sudden clarity and composure. These monsters had taken her children and enslaved her people. As a doctor, she had faithfully obeyed her duty to preserve life. She had even repaired the wounds of Glade prisoners captured in battle. Now she must take life to preserve life. She was like the Alsace bird who slashes the life from its prey to feed its young.

She reached down into the pouch, fished out two treats and gave one to Erthen to keep him occupied. She wrapped a thin cloth around her fingers and palm, then calmly bent down again and gathered the berries and laid them on the hazel fury leaves in her front pouch. She deftly laid some hazel fury leaves over the berries, being careful not to touch them.

When she was done, she motioned to the guard that she was ready to move on. In the clearing, she waited for the old woman who reported that she could find no more ripe plants. As they returned to the village, Alithea felt as though her front pouch was weighted with rocks. In her anxiety, she was forgetting to breathe. She took deep breaths and followed the woman to the village. Where could she hide the berries?

 

Peak View

 

Spear at the ready, Alpen stepped forward to the fallen faeries while Drindl and Bebe scanned the area. He prodded a still faerie for signs of life, hoping that it might be sleeping or drugged on energy. Disappointed at the lifeless form, he turned the small body over to inspect for damage. He reached for another and found the same. He looked up at the surrounding rocks, then turned back to the others. “No physical damage,” he said. “They are dead.” He sensed the presence of bugs on his hand and set the body down. When Bebe came alongside, he said, “Bugs. Maybe dead a day?”

Bebe knelt and lifted a tiny eyelid on the still faerie. “I wish Alithea were here.” Her voice caught and Alpen reached down and touched her shoulder. “The eye is not fully opaque, so I agree. Probably a day.”

Drindl extended a branch he had broken from a nearby bush. “Poison berries?”

Taking the branch, she saw the same faerie bite marks. She peeled back the eyelid on another faerie, then stood up and surveyed the tiny corpses. “There are too many. Whatever did this happened at the same time.”

“The rain?” Alpen asked.

“The air,” Bebe said, then touched her chest. “What if we are breathing it right now? The Melangi speak of gaseous vents on the other side of the mountains where they live.”

Drindl scanned the area. “I don’t see anything.”

Alpen turned to the surrounding rocks. “Let’s move to higher ground. If there is something, we may get above it.”

They threaded their way between big boulders on their way up the slope. Climbing on a boulder, Alpen stopped and lifted his hand to inspect his palm, then rubbed his fingers together. “What is this?” He put a finger to his mouth, but Bebe reached out.

“No. What if that is what killed the faeries?”

Alpen looked to her. “Just a taste.” He ran his finger on the rock, then touched it to his tongue.

“Spit. It could be poison,” Bebe said, a worried look on her face.

Alpen spit, then closed and opened his mouth to feel the residual taste of the powder. He reached down and took another swipe with his finger and repeated the process but didn’t spit. He looked puzzled. Turning to Drindl, he said, “You try it.”

“What? Why me?” Drindl asked.

“Just try it,” Alpen encouraged. “Let’s see if we agree.”

Drindl swiped a finger, touched it to his tongue and let the taste linger. “It tastes like energy,” he said in a quizzical tone, looking at Alpen, who nodded.

“I didn’t want to influence you,” Alpen said. “It has that …” He couldn’t find the words to describe the taste. There were no words for the taste of energy.

“How did it get here?” Bebe asked as she put a finger of the powder to her tongue. She had rarely tasted energy, so she wasn’t sure. “It tastes like when we were out in the desert and we were really thirsty.”

Alpen and Drindl agreed. “But energy is not salty like that,” Alpen said. He swiped a palm on a smooth rock and licked his hand. “We would have to lick these rocks clean to get a warrior’s size portion of energy, but a little bit might help with the hunger.”

“But there could be other things on the rock as well,” Bebe cautioned. The thought of easing her hunger pangs won over caution and she swiped her palm on a nearby rock and licked it. After several times, her belly no longer twisted in hunger. “How does it work so fast?”

“Because it’s a powder,” Alpen said. “Normally, warriors eat the honeycomb, so it takes a while to absorb, I guess.” He stopped, turning to faeries strewn on the clearing below. “They could have eaten it, not expecting that it would act so soon.”

“Or breathed it?” Bebe asked. “How did it get here?”

Drindl had already gone ahead, scrambling up the steep slope to the ridge above. “You’ll have to see this,” he called down to Alpen and Bebe. Drindl helped pull them up the edge of the ridge.

As Bebe stood to survey the area, she noticed the puffy white clouds in the blue sky. “Beautiful…” Her gaze drifted down to the ugly scar of the open pit, the rolling valleys and a plain to the east. “The mine?” She turned to Drindl, who pointed east to the plain. A caravan of elephants below them trudged away toward the plain, their feet stirring up a dust cloud that drifted to the northeast. “When the wind shifts toward the ocean, it brings the dust up here,” she whispered.

“I didn’t think there was this much energy in the world,” Alpen said. “Where are they taking it? Who could consume this much energy?”

Discovered

 

As the nighttime breeze danced among the trees, Alithea wrapped Erthen in the cloak that Fallon had left. He nuzzled into her chest, making faint sounds of displeasure at the chill. Like so many nights in an unfamiliar and uncomfortable environment, she meditated her way to sleep reviewing the bones, muscles, and ligaments in the body. She envisioned a warrior coming into the hospital tent with a gash wound across the upper part of his thigh. What would she do? What were the first concerns? What was her next and what if…?

She awoke as the sun’s rays streamed through the forest and touched the side of her head. It took a moment to realize that Erthen was no longer in her lap and she panicked. She heard Erthen cry out and leapt to her feet, running to the edge of the trees and his voice. Glancing to her right, she saw the paws of a large wolfbear and the furry clawed feet of a Person.

One of the villagers, she presumed, held Erthen in his arms, trying not to hurt the boy as he struggled to get free and rejoin his mother. Looking up at Alithea, Villager smiled and set Erthen down, then motioned for Alithea to pick up the boy. Erthen looked at the massive head and snout of the wolfbear and renewed his crying. Alithea stepped forward and gathered the boy in her arms, glancing right to the Fae warrior riding atop the beast. She recognized the pale blond color at the tip of the Fae’s ear, but couldn’t remember where she had seen her before.

Villager spoke to Alithea, but she couldn’t understand and shook her head. He swept his arm to the village and the beehive ovens, motioning her to follow him. Alithea looked askance at the wolfbear who followed behind her and Erthen. The soft grunting of the beast kept her alert to immediate danger as she walked the dirt path to the village.

At the edge of the village there was a Person outside the first beehive on the left. Villager stopped and said something, then turned to the Fae warrior and signaled her to keep the wolfbear at the village edge. The woman handed him a food cake, which he offered to Alithea. She hesitated, not knowing whether it was safe to eat. Was this one of the miner’s cakes that caused hallucinations? Perhaps a prisoner cake like the ones that Fallon had brought last night?

She shook her head, motioning that the cake might make her boy sleepy. He nodded, then took another cake from the woman and took a bite. Feeling relieved, Alithea gave some to Erthen and ate some. The villager offered her a bowl with water and she signaled her gratitude before tipping the rim to her lips. She held it for Erthen who drank rather sloppily.

The villager spoke with the Fae warrior for a moment, then beckoned for Alithea to follow. On the right, she saw Fallon emerge from one of the beehive ovens, a white cloak smeared in blood. She saw his look of surprise then made a furtive hand sign that they were to act like strangers.

Villager hailed Fallon and approached. After a moment, Fallon turned to Alithea and said, “He wants me to translate.” She glanced at Fallon briefly, afraid she would show her recognition. She kept Erthen facing away from his father as he ate, his attention fully engaged on the wolfbear several warrior’s distance away. She shifted his body slightly so that her arm would block his gaze if he did turn forward and saw his dad. She looked at Villager and nodded.

“What is your name?” Fallon asked her in a formal voice that was raised higher than normal. Perhaps he too wanted to disguise his presence from Erthen.

Unable to quickly think of a fake name, she said, “Doctor.”

Fallon fought a smile, then repeated the name to Villager, who said something to Fallon. “The Fae warrior recognized you. The seamstress of wounds. The healer.” Again, Villager spoke to Fallon who translated, “You are to accompany the food to the palace this afternoon.” He turned to Villager again, then back to Alithea. “The queen needs more wound poultice. You are to gather some. One of the villagers will show where there is some growing.”

Alithea spoke, not because she needed to, but because she hoped her voice would calm Erthen down as he tried to turn to the front. She kept her voice steady. “I will be happy to do what the queen asks.” Erthen lay the side of his head against her clavicle as though listening to the vibrations of her speaking. “I must clean up my boy and myself before picking any poultice medicine. I do not want to get it dirty.”

She waited for Fallon to translate to the Villager who touched her arm and pointed to the sleeping quarters. He motioned to someone from behind Alithea. When she turned, she saw that it was Sisseku.

Higher Ground

 

Facing east, Bebe was the first to wake when the sun rose above the slope and she felt the light beneath her eyelids. She lifted her arm and tapped Alpen on the shoulder. “You and Drindl are used to this outdoor living. It’s not for me.” Drindl snorted a laugh.

Alpen rolled over on his side, laid an arm on Bebe’s back. “We’re alive, thanks to you.” He came up on his knees and looked over the edge of ground into the ravine. “Water’s high in the channel. I thought there might be some meat strips left hanging.” When Bebe showed him the hide strips, he shook his head. “Strips of meat. Something for our journey.” He sat and surveyed the Ibik herd on the other side of the ravine, then felt around in the grass. “My cutting rock. I think I left it down there.” He felt in the pocket of his tunic, pulled out a dirty white thin cake that crumbled between his fingers. “Not much good, now.”

Drindl sat up. “What is that?”

“Energy, I think,” Alpen said. “Noticed it sticking out of the dirt next to the stake as I came down the wall of the ravine.

Drindl leaned over the edge of the ravine. “Just out here in the open? The miners are digging through tons of rock and dirt in that open mine.”

“The queen and her men must not know it is here. Come on.” Bebe stood up. She led them down the hill nearer to the beach. She scanned north and south looking for the Fae warrior. Where the ravine met sand, she began to dig with a nearby branch, and the others followed suit. After an hour, they had made a tunnel from the ravine to the ocean.

Drindl hopped down into the open tunnel, offering to make the final cut that would release the dammed water. He motioned to Alpen to hand him the stake. “Drindl, out!” Bebe yelled. The dam was giving way on its own, bowing out from the pressure of water. Alpen extended the stake and pulled Drindl up to beach level as the dirt dam gave way and the water rushed from the ravine.

As the river rushed to the ocean an Ibik carcass got caught in the wedge of dirt between ravine and tunnel. Several branches caught against the animal and mud collected in the branches until the water slowed considerably.

“All that work,” Alpen lamented.

“Come on,” Bebe called as she headed back up the slope. Drindl remembered the bladder he had rinsed out in the ocean. When they returned to the place where they woke up, she looked down into the ravine. The meat strips had been carried downstream and the water at the bottom of the ravine was knee high. Drindl’s tunic was caught in the branches of the fallen tree they had climbed earlier.

Alpen came alongside her and picked up the spear points and hide strips. “We’ll have some weapons at least.”

As Drindl joined them, she pointed out the tunic, turned her attention to a spot on the wall of the ravine. “Is that where the energy was?”

Alpen looked over the edge at the yellow-whitish honeycomb protruding from the muddy wall of the ravine. “That’s the spot. Too muddy to go after it.”

Bebe took measure of several landmarks. “The rains may reveal more and more of the energy. Would the faeries find it? They are always on the hunt.” She looked south toward the herds and peered into the sky. “Why have there been no faeries?”

“Maybe something hunted them,” Drindl offered. “We saw few faeries on our way south from the highlands. There was the one we captured, of course.”

“But he came from further north,” Alpen said, looking at the bladder Drindl held. “We need to find water. And food. I’m starving.”

As they worked their way up the slope, the contour of land took them further from the edge of the ravine. They encountered many berry bushes, most of which were stripped bare. Bebe held one branch in her hand, carefully examining the stems that had held the berries. “Something with teeth, not a beak,” she concluded as she pointed out the edge marks. On the stem buds.

“Not Dibby birds?” Drindl asked. He pointed to the birds perched on the backs of the Ibik across the ravine. They fed on insects on the Ibik fur.

“I’ve never known them to feed on berries,” Bebe said. “Small animals or faeries.” Looking to the north, she pointed to a faint cloud of fine dust rising above a green ridge. She turned to Alpen. “The mine?”

He looked toward the ocean, measuring the shoreline. “Hard to know how far south we came. I think the mine is further north.” He looked to Drindl. “You’ve been here a bit longer. It’s not natural, I don’t think. What could make dust like that?”

“Something to do with the mine?” Drindl guessed. He pointed to a high point to their right. “We could see better from there.”

“That’s pretty steep.” Alpen turned to face the Ibik herds on the far side of the divide below them. He pointed to the herds as they walked around the bluffs in the distance. “Maybe they can’t cross the gap.”

They found no hint of small rodents or faeries but did find some branches that they used as makeshift spears. A few Anschloss leaves helped ease their hunger as they climbed the steep terrain toward the ridge. A few steps ahead of Bebe and Drindl, Alpen raised his hand and stopped. “Small animals,” he whispered.

They circled left, using the cover of some bushes, then crouched down behind a boulder. The thought of a meal caused renewed hunger pangs in each of them. As a cloud obscured the sun’s brightness, Alpen peered around the rock. Bebe tugged at this tunic, anxious for the good news. Alpen stood up, his shoulders slumped as he motioned to Bebe and Drindl to get up.

“What?” Bebe asked as she stepped to Alpen’s side. Her mouth dropped. Several dozen faeries lay still on the ground.