Walls of Wind and the Occasional Diamond Thief Boxed Set

by Jane Ann McLachlan

  “What are you really looking for in the mountains?”

  “The source of the white Broghen,” Koon’an replied.

  “Broghen come from Ghen and Bria mating.” I waited for him to deny it.

  “Yes.”

  “Are these Broghen from our city?”

  “No.”

  I was so relieved I had to lean back against a boulder to support myself. So we, ourselves, did not give birth to Broghen! Dayannis had stopped it, as Savannis taught us. Who, then, had created them? I signed my question to Saft’ir.

  “We don’t know,” Koon’an said when Saft’ir had translated.

  “You think there are other Bria and Ghen in the mountains? Savages who still bear Broghen?”

  “It’s possible.”

  At that, I became so excited I nearly forgot about the Broghen. The Ghen would fight them off. I was focused on the thought of another community of Bria and Ghen. We weren’t alone on Wind! I would be an emissary from my people, the only one able to speak to these wild Bria. I could teach them so much. Why, they’d think of me as we thought of Dayannis! My ears twitched with delight, despite Koon’an’s frown.

  Saft’ir caught my arm. “You will obey Koon’an,” he signed. “This is a very dangerous expedition.”

  “Of course,” I responded, but I was no longer thinking of the danger.

  ***

  A week later, a solitary Broghen attacked us. The Ghen killed it but the sound of its battle roar alerted others in the vicinity and two more attacked, each from a different direction. They didn’t interact, not even showing as much teamwork as a pair of mongarr’hs raiding a farmborra roost. They struck at the same time only because both of them were close enough to hear and scent our struggle with the first Broghen. Several Ghen were wounded, two quite badly. For the first time it occurred to me that I might not make it home, even in the company of Ghen.

  I wondered at the strange sense of relief among many of the fighters afterwards despite their wounds, until Saft’ir explained to me that the Broghen they’d killed had had their fangs removed.

  “Removed?” I signed, shuddering at the memory of white jaws full of sharp and bloody teeth, leering at me in the night.

  “Their poison fangs,” Saft’ir clarified. He explained that on each side of the Broghens’ front molars was a longer tooth filled with poison. Holding out his arm he showed me a ragged wound, bleeding but not deep. “If they still had their fangs, this would be infected. It might not kill me, but I’d never be able to mate. Others feared this, too. But every Broghen we’ve met has had its poison fangs removed.”

  “If none of them have them, how do you know they exist?”

  He hesitated. “Koon’an knows.”

  “Koon’an’s run into Broghen before?”

  He made no reply, but I had my answer.

  One third of our group was gone. We were well into the mountains now, following the trail left by our scouts. They’d passed here several weeks ahead of us, travelling light and fast, marking our way.

  One morning a small footprint was found which Koon’an believed to be the track of a mountain Ghen. The print was no bigger than my own foot and looked to me like one from a four- or five-year-old, but Saft’ir told me that, given the size of the Broghen, the Ghen themselves would be small.

  “How do you know that?” I signed, but he turned to speak to the Ghen beside him as though he hadn’t seen my question.

  When we stopped for the evening I asked him to come with me to speak to Koon’an. “You believe these Ghen are smaller than you?” I asked. I didn’t wait for his answer. “If so, they’ll be afraid of you. I should approach them first. They won’t fear a Bria.”

  “Too dangerous. Their customs might be different from ours.”

  I was taken aback for a moment at the thought of a Bria having to fear a Ghen. Then I pulled my knife from its pouch and threw it into the ground an inch from Koon’an’s foot, before he could move. “I’m not without resources,” I said.

  My words were sheer bravado. Despite my excellent aim, I had never sunk my blade into a living thing and doubted that I could. But Koon’an laughed in approval and said he would consider my suggestion.

  ***

  We had climbed high into the mountains by now and had reached the mist line. The thought of walking into clouds had thrilled me when I’d seen them above us, but the reality wasn’t pleasant. I’d expected something soft and warm, like a veil of white sunshine. Instead, they were cold and damp. They surrounded us until we could barely see our own hands, like nighttime painted white.

  The trail markings left by our three scouts stopped. We found no bodies, no signs of a struggle. The ground was swept clear by wind and rain. Like everything else, they had simply disappeared into the fog.

  Koon’an had us tie ourselves together with lengths of rope, something we hadn’t even had to do in the dark of the forest at night. Despite the rope, I felt cut off from the others. I kept touching it to feel its tautness, to feel the pull of living bodies before and behind me. I needed to reassure myself that I wasn’t alone in the fog, following an imaginary trail that led nowhere.

  Anything might be hiding in this white darkness which even Ghen sight couldn’t pierce. The dampness washed the wind clean before it could bring any warning scents to us, and the birds and mountain creatures were either frightened into silence or their movements and voices were muffled, as were ours. I could hardly tell whether the few sounds that came to me were near or far.

  I might have succumbed to my fears except that the wind blew the mists aside every so often. When that happened, I could see that I climbed a real trail in real mountains surrounded by living companions. Then the clouds closed in again, swallowing everything, even the silent shadow of our passage.

  Our tension increased daily. At night the watch was doubled. There’d been no sign from our scouts for several days. I dreaded walking into the cloying fog and even the Ghen packed up their bedrolls slowly, glancing over their shoulders now and then, lingering near the sallow illumination of the fire. Finally Koon’an spoke.

  I approached Saft’ir for translation and he told me that we would travel in a tight group, close enough to touch one another whenever the clouds moved in. It would be slow but safer if anything tried to attack us.

  So the Ghen felt it too. I was torn between relief that I was not imagining things and panic, to think that even the Ghen were frightened.

  Saft’ir and I, along with the two Ghen who’d been wounded by Broghen, were placed in the middle of the group. We carried double loads to free the arms of Koon’an and the other seven who might have to defend us.

  I no longer minded being given a protected position among them. I’d never known fear until I learned of Broghen, and had never been free of it since.

  After three more days of walking through thick clouds, I became certain that we were not alone. But the wind, which occasionally blew the clouds aside, seemed to blow those other presences away also, for each time the clouds cleared I could see only the towering boulders glistening with sweat around us. The sight did not relieve me. I felt hidden eyes watching us from behind them, and the nervous glances of the Ghen proved they were worried, too.

  I signed to Saft’ir, grateful for our silent language. I imagined that the slightest sound might bring some awful terror down upon us, like lighting a candle under Ghen firearms. Saft’ir signed that he felt it also, but that we were guarded by the best fighters in the city.

  “Including you,” I answered.

  Day after day we walked as noiselessly as possible, our every sense tingling yet at the same time all—sight, hearing and smell—dampened by the heavy clouds. Touch alone sustained us, or so we hoped. We believed that the bodies we felt in the mist and occasionally bumped against, were our comrades.

  But we also sensed, with increasing certitude, that the mist was populated by more than our small band. A muffled clatter of pebbles too far ahead, a soft grunt off to our left, the
small sounds of swift movement from boulder to boulder, suddenly ceasing when we stopped to listen, all had us on constant edge. At every step the trail closed in on us, huge rocks rising steeply at our sides, hemming us in.

  I caught myself murmuring prayers to Wind, something I hadn’t done for a while. Perhaps He heard me because the clouds thinned and drifted away. One hundred armlengths ahead the route narrowed. On the left, the mountain rose at a sharp incline and on the right it fell away almost sheer, into a deep crevice. Between the two was a treacherous path no wider than two Ghen walking abreast.

  In front of this passageway stood perhaps two dozen figures, guarding the entrance. They stood so still I didn’t see them until, noticing the tension around me, I looked again, harder. I yelped in fear when I made out white bodies, nearly twice as many as our own party.

  Saft’ir, guessing my impression, signed, “Ghen, not Broghen.”

  I was only slightly relieved. The strangers were obviously on the defensive, ready for battle. Subtly our group shifted into similar lines, gently nudging Saft’ir and me and the two wounded Ghen to the back. Koon’an led us forward cautiously until we’d covered half the distance to them. Some of the strangers held what looked like slingshots, into which they had placed stones, while others raised against us stone-head axes and shafts sharpened into knife-like points.

  Koon’an had us wait while he walked slowly forward, holding his hands empty before him. He was within fifteen armlengths of the white Ghen when his foot slipped on a spray of gravel and he lunged forward.

  One of the savages yelled and let loose his short spear. It caught Koon’an in the upper thigh just as he was straightening from his stumble. He cried out, falling onto the dirt. With howls of outrage our Ghen surged forward but Koon’an struggled to his knees and raised his hand, stopping us.

  Before I could lose my nerve I pushed my way to the front and walked forward alone as Koon’an had, holding my hands out in front of me. Koon’an saw me coming but didn’t stop me although he still held his arm up, warning the others back.

  I passed Koon’an and kept walking, slowly, toward the strange, white Ghen. Although they were no taller than I, they were mature adults so their mass was greater. My legs trembled. I willed them to hold, afraid that if I stumbled or fell now, the Ghen behind me would think I’d been attacked and would rush to my rescue. I could see the alien Ghen glancing at one another, the arms that held their weapons slackening, relaxed though not lowered. A few shifted on their feet as though embarrassed.

  I looked for the one the others looked to and directed my attention toward him, stooping slightly to make myself appear smaller than I actually was. When I was only a few armlengths away he stepped forward, motioning impatiently to the others who returned their attention to Koon’an and the Ghen behind me.

  I stopped and spoke out loud for all the white Ghen to hear, “We come in peace, hoping to be friends.”

  I didn’t expect them to understand my words, but my treble voice would confirm that I was Bria, even though I might appear as different from their Bria as they were from my Ghen. Watching me closely, the white Ghen leader lowered his slingshot and axe to the ground beside him. To my immense surprise, he began to sign.

  His signs were as indecipherable as my words had been to him and I was shocked by the implied intimacy, but I signed back as I would have signed to Saft’ir or Yur’i or Gant’i, to let him know that I understood he was trying to communicate. Then I stepped forward carefully. He let me take his hand and lead him to Koon’an, still kneeling in the dirt.

  Koon’an had not moved, not even to remove the stone spear. I bent and pulled it out as gently as I could, then turned and offered it to the white Ghen leader. He accepted it gravely and reached out his hand to help Koon’an to his feet. Koon’an called to our Ghen to put down their weapons and when they had, the white leader motioned his followers to do the same. Cautiously the two groups approached.

  When they stood within arm’s length on either side of us, Koon’an blew into the palm of his hand and extended it to the white Ghen. A moment’s hesitation while I held my breath, then the white Ghen blew into his own palm, and reached out. Koon’an grasped his hand, palm to palm, and raised their joined hands in the air for all to see. They turned, facing first one and then the other group of Ghen, motioning their followers closer as the clouds once again moved in. Slowly gray and white hands reached for each other, until every Ghen was standing, hand clasped in a stranger’s hand, and raised into the descending cloud.

  Just before it enclosed us all, the white leader signed quickly to his troops. Still clasping our hands, the white Ghen began to lead us forward across the perilous mountain pass.

  I marveled at Koon’an’s foresight. He’d seen the clouds returning and sealed our fragile trust with the assurance of joined hands. And we needed those hands. Without their guidance few of us would have survived that unfamiliar, treacherous path through the clouds.

  I found it easier to follow my guide when I didn’t have even partial visibility—when the mist blew away, the gaping ravine on my left and the wall of rock towering over me to the right intimidated me until I could barely move forward.

  The trail inclined steeply upward for most of our trip, then slightly downward. Our hosts drew us to a stop just as the wind once again blew the clouds aside. Spread below us was a wide valley. At the far end, the mountains rose steeply again. I could make out a number of black spaces in the sheer rock, which I took to be the entrances of caves, as a number of white Ghen and equally-pale Bria moved in and out of their shadows. There were at least a hundred Ghen and Bria of varying ages, including infants in arms, moving about the valley.

  They live in caves, I thought, like Dayannis! I imagined myself going back in time to meet my own ancestors, rugged, primitive people like these.

  Our guides led us down into the valley. Hundreds more Ghen and Bria emerged from the caves and came to look at us, gaping openly at my black fur and keeping a nervous distance from our Ghen, who stood two heads taller than any of them. Their reticence was fortunate. They crowded one another closely, without respect for personal space. That would take getting used to. Nevertheless, I smiled benignly. How much I had to teach them!

  The crowd parted to admit a strong, middle-aged Ghen. He wore a stone amulet tied with leather about his neck. The leader of the party that had discovered us made a brief obeisance to him and began to sign, pausing each time the larger Ghen raised his hands to insert a question or comment into the narrative. I stared in amazement. Ghen signing to one another? It looked obscene, a public intimacy. The Ghen from my city looked away, embarrassed.

  When he was done he bowed slightly once more. At this point Koon’an stepped forward, dipping his head to the dominant Ghen then, pointing to his own chest, said, “Koon’an.” The leader of the valley Ghen stared, as though affronted. After a moment he nodded slightly and murmured, in a hoarse voice that sounded unused to speech, something which Saft’ir later translated for me as “Teralish”. There were grimaces on many faces in the crowd as he did so, and he himself turned quickly away, gesturing to Koon’an to follow him. We were led across the valley to the caves.

  The caves lay at varying levels in the rock face. When we got closer I noticed rough steps dug into the rock leading up to the higher ones. Teralish led Koon’an to one of the highest caves, which I assumed to be his own until I saw several Bria sitting with their youngsters and two other white Ghen at the entrance. The rest of us were taken to a smaller, mid-level cave. We climbed a narrow set of steps single-file to enter it, past an armed Ghen standing at the base of the steps and another at the top, just at the cave entrance.

  Inside, on a pallet of woven grasses lay Kur’ad, one of our three missing scouts. He moaned and twisted in a semi-conscious state as a young Bria bent over him, carefully placing across his chest the long, broad leaves of some mountain plant. I caught sight of a terrible, bloody gash reaching from his right shoulder down across his righ
t breast.

  In fact, he was covered with the leafy bandages. Remembering our own battles with the white Broghen, I shuddered. Kur’ad appeared to have fought them off with his bare claws. We had no way of asking about the other missing scouts, but we were grateful for the gentle care the strange Bria was giving Kur’ad. Before leaving, he carefully spooned into Kur’ad’s mouth a thin gruel in which I could see a number of tiny seeds I didn’t recognize. Shortly after swallowing them, Kur’ad fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.

  Two more Bria entered carrying a clay bowl of water and a woven basket full of the same unfamiliar, broad leaves. Gently they removed the strips of cloth with which we’d bound the wounds of our two comrades. They washed the deep cuts and applied to them the pungent sap from several of the leaves. Then, using a stone knife, they cut shallow slits in one side of the remaining leaves and wound them, cut side down, around the wounded arm or leg. As the sap entered their wounds, the facial muscles of both Ghen visibly relaxed.

  I tried to speak to the Bria but they were intent on their task. They kept their gaze averted, but patted my arm now and then, as one would do to a prattling child one wished to calm. They didn’t speak to each other, either, so I wasn’t sure whether they were intimidated by our strangeness or were unable to speak. Perhaps they had not yet developed a full spoken language?

  At dusk we were led outside. At least two thousand Ghen and Bria had gathered. They parted to let us through. Teralish, with Koon’an beside him, stood near an assortment of steaming pots of meat and root vegetables, and baskets heaped with fruit. He gestured grandly toward the spread of food. We bowed our heads briefly. He accepted our homage as his due with a quick motion of his left hand, which we’d witnessed when his own people bent their heads to him.

  I hadn’t eaten all day. My mouth watered at the tempting smells, until I saw that every pot contained meat as well as vegetables. I was nearly sickened by the sight of Bria hands scooping up meat from their bowls and eating it with obvious pleasure. I tried to select only vegetables. When I accidentally placed a piece of meat in my mouth, it was all I could do not to vomit in the midst of their feast.