“Sure, I guess.”
“There once was a farmer who accidentally offended a known bandit in his town. The farmer was of average means but the bandit was rich, fierce and powerful. The bandit was known to be a ruthless character with no sense of mercy or honor. In fact, the bandit took such offense to the farmer that he began killing all the farmer's relatives one-by-one until finally, the farmer was alone. Then one night, he heard that the bandit would come in the morning to kill him. So the farmer got up much earlier the next morning, caught the bandit sleeping and killed him,” said Hanoch. “So was the farmer, a murderer?”
Nathan sat silent for a moment thinking of his response because it seemed to him that both were guilty.
“I'm sorry, I don't know,” he said.
“Why don't you try and get some sleep,” said Hanoch, stepping to the edge of the camp.
He pulled his hood over his head, took a small book from his cloak and began praying under his breath. His form outlined itself in the night against a starlit sky.
“So, you must be the farmer,” called Nathan.
“No. I'm the bandit. That’s why I pray.” quipped Hanoch. “Go to sleep.”
Dreams danced in his head that night, but much more subtly. He saw the city once more as though he walked though it's halls, but sensed that something waited for him, roaming the lonely corridors. No people filled this dream, and no children played in the streets as before. Instead, dusty winds wiped long dead leaves down empty hallways. His mind flew downward through the city, deep into the earth until it came to a mammoth metal-bound door. In his dream, the massive door unlocked and creaked open, unleashing red light and hot air that Nathan could feel on his face and neck. Abruptly, he woke. He looked around with relief as he viewed his companions packing up to set out.
“So now your awake, you lazy lad,” chided Dodie. “Did you have a good sleep?”
“Sure, fine,” said Nathan with hesitation as he gathered his bedroll, quickly washing his face before they set off. “How far are we from the city?”
“Not far, do you see those hills in the distance,” said Dodie pointing to the southern horizon. “Just beyond those grassy hills is a Skull’s Field, and beyond that, the city. If we keep a good pace, we should see the gates by midday.”
They did make a good time even with Dodie plodding at the rear with his usual huffing-and-puffing pace. The scenic rolling hills made travel more enjoyable until Isha spied angry clouds moving up from the south to meet them. Stiff breezes hit them full in the face, bringing the unmistakable smell of moisture to their senses.
“This is a bit of bad fortune,” said Dodie eyeing the approaching clouds as he scratched his curly black beard in thought.
The storm came from the south with wide decks of black maliciousness as far as the eye could see and poured torrents of rain as the wind drove it into their faces, soaking them to the skin. They could only see a few feet in front of them, so they abandon any hope of shelter, pushing themselves into the heart of the storm like beasts of burden. It seemed hours before a grim discovery struck Nathan's foot. Glancing downward, a half-buried skull returned his gaze from its bed in the damp earth. Dodie noticed Nathan's gesturing and gathered the others to his side to stare down in unison at his grisly find.
“This must be Skull’s Field in front of the gate, but we can't tell through the storm how far we are from the city itself,” said Dodie.
“Can Hanoch track the path through the storm,” shouted Nathan over the driving wind.
“He can't, but I can,” yelled Isha.
“No, you’ve done too much already,” said Nathan, looking into the drenched face of Isha.
Putting a cold, shivering hand of assurance to his face, she took her place at the front. They both knew this was a job for her, but it hurt Nathan to admit it.
“No worries lad, Formorians are born pathfinders,” said Dodie.
No one else disputed as Isha took a rope, tied it around her waist and handed the remainder for the others to hold as she pulled them through the storm. Nathan's heart sank as he saw her small frame stumbled and fall several times. She leaned hard against the wailing and stinging rain, assuring herself that she would not be beaten. Finally, after several minutes, her efforts were rewarded by the outline of the northern gates coming into view. The great stone parapets of Ariel pushed their gray columns against the angry sky as they entered through the gates and up the main cobblestone avenue. Isha fell to the street, spent from her exertion, but the storm hadn’t finished with them yet. Nathan moved to her side and untied her from the group.
“We must find some shelter,” he called through the storm.
“There appears to be some buildings on the right that served as merchant shops,” Hanoch returned.
Nathan and Dodie quickly nodded to him as they made their way. The driving rain still hampered their progress, but the surrounding buildings gave them enough protection to move about. With Isha propped against him, Nathan trudged toward the shelter, but found he tripped into oddly shaped holes that formed from large depressions in the ground. He thought it odd that such pools would be placed in the middle of the street on purpose and especially in such an odd pattern. Marking it off to damage from a siege, he continued to run for shelter as the rain smacked great droplets against the towering edifices. The force of the wind made fine mists hover in the air like guardian spirits of the ancient past. Suddenly, images began to flash in Nathan's head, but harder and stronger than ever before, dropping him to his knees in the street. Stopping short, Isha placed a questioning hand on his shoulder as the others looked on.
“Something horrible happened here,” Nathan gasped. “I can see it running though my mind. I know now why they left, but why didn’t they return?”
“That is something for another time,” said Dodie looking for a doorway close by. “We should get out of this cursed rain.”
Battered signs marked the buildings around them, most barely readable and hard to make out since the letters were in an ancient language Dodie didn’t know. Picking the nearest door on his left, he kicked it open and gathered everyone inside. Slamming it shut, he secured it against the chill of the rain that clutched at them like icy streams of hatred. Inside, broken vessels of all types lined the shelves on the walls all around while in a corner stood a working area for what must be a pottery wheel. Hanoch examined different shards with an uncharacteristic admiration.
“I've never see workmanship like this. The craftsmanship is amazing,” said Hanoch.
“This must be the artisan quarter,” said Dodie.
“And if this is a potter's house then there must be a furnace. Maybe we can get dry,” Isha said through shivering lips.
In spite of her strength, she had taken the brunt of the storm to get them to the city, and now, seemed close to passing out. Nathan put his arms around her shivering shoulders, and pulled her close. She did not resist, putting her head on his chest and collapsing in his arms without warning.
“She’s burning with fever,” said Nathan, holding a hand to Isha’s sweat-soaked brow. “We need a fire. Can you make one with a tract?”
“Certainly lad, but the tracts I have left are mainly used for light and must have additional fuel. Otherwise, they go out quickly and would give little comfort even if I used them all.”
“I found the furnace, but there is no firewood,” said Hanoch from an adjoining room.
Nathan carried Isha in his arms into the next room, her wet auburn tresses swaying with the motion as her head lulled to-and-fro like a broken doll.
“They must have heated it with tome-work, but we don’t have time to find a Tome-shop right now. Break up the shelves and worktables, we’ll use them for now,” said Dodie.
Hanoch made quick work of the benches. Using only his hands, he dealt deft blows that splintered planks several inches thick, sending shards of wood flying through the air with no apparent injury to his fingers. Nathan took a less skilled approach as he threw wooden
chairs against the walls, breaking them in pieces. It was primitive, yet no less effective. Collecting the wood into the furnace, Dodie placed his hand on a small tome, gave a silent invocation and quickly tossed the smoking booklet into the furnace where it quickly burst into flame. Warmth flooded the room as the wood began to glow, making glowing embers of life as it smoldered.
“Quick, bring me those drapes, we must get her out of these wet cloths,” said Dodie, but Nathan froze with uncertainty. “Don’t just stand there, boy. I’ve been a battle-healer for men and women since before you were drooling on your mother’s skirts. So, be quick about it.”
Nathan and Hanoch brought the drapes to Dodie who quickly wrapped around Isha. Shoving them into the next room, the tomewright slammed the door behind them leaving them in harsh confusion for the moment. For a time, all was silent and Nathan took advantage of the moment to recline on a table while Hanoch performed his evening prayers.
“Why is it that you, a seer, don’t pray,” asked Hanoch.
“I pray plenty,” quipped Nathan. “And stop calling me a seer. I’m no priest.”
“The members of my Branch pray five times a day - three standing prayers and two moving prayers. How often do you pray,” Hanoch said in a curious tone.
His earnest sincerity cut Nathan to the heart a bit. His devote Jewish ancestors prayed three times a day at least and even in the monastery the prayer services seem to go on forever. Why didn’t he pray more, he wondered. Maybe you only pray to someone who you think is listening. He had seen God answer his prayers since he had come to Akeldemah in a big way, but that had to do with urgent need. So, why didn’t he feel compelled to pray at other times? He sneezed several times from the dust, looking around he noticed it drifting from the rafters in rhythmic waves.
“Do you feel that?” Hanoch said as he set his hands and feet wide in defensive form.
“It’s just the wind, shaking the shop,” said Nathan.
“I don’t think so,” Hanoch posed next to the window, looking out into the darkness.
Nathan felt it too like an enormous progression of thumps that shook the ground. Each beat grew stronger and closer till the force rattled the potter’s shop walls, sending earthenware hopping from the shelves to shatter on the floor.
“It’s an earthquake,” Nathan shouted.
The thundering beats made the furniture jump across the floor like a wounded cricket.
“Be quiet, it’s something else,” whispered Hanoch as he peered out the window into the hazy darkness beyond.
Nathan ran to the window, gazing out into the open street when directly – the noise stopped. Taking up a lamp, he went to the window, but something blocked his view to the street beyond.
“What is this,” asked Nathan.
Hanoch approached, putting out a slow hand to caress the surface of the obstacle. It was rough, almost glossy to the touch, stirring his memories from the past. A look of alarm came across the young Venger’s face. Without warning, he slapped the lamp from Nathan’s hand and extinguished the light as quickly as he could.
“Move away from the window,” said Hanoch with in low tones, “slowly.”
“Are you crazy…” Nathan stopped mid-sentence as Hanoch jumped from the floor and clapped a hand over Nathan’s mouth.
Lightning flashed from the storm outside, lighting the room. Nathan saw Hanoch signaled for silence with a finger to his mouth, pointing to the window. All of a sudden, the rough wall blocking the window began to move, and an enormous eye outlined itself in the window. A peal of thunder and the cover of Hanoch’s hand kept Nathan’s yell from being heard. As suddenly as it appeared, the eye vanished and the rumbling began again, trailing off into the distance.
Nathan stared at the empty window in shock as Hanoch removed his hand from Nathan’s mouth. They knew Dodie must be told. Nathan opened the door and poked his head inside, he saw Dodie sitting on a high-backed chair in the corner.
“You heard?” asked Nathan.
“I heard,” said Dodie. “It’s the guardian of this city.”
Isha lay sleeping, carefully nested next the furnace on a makeshift couch made of curtains while her cloths lay drying on a nearby chair. Her bedding covered her, but pulled loose as she tossed in the fits of her fever. At once, she pulled an arm from its resting place and reached into the air as though fighting some unseen demon above her.
Nathan went to her side and reached from her hand, but she unexpectedly grabbed his forearm and squeezed with a power that made his bones pop. Nathan bit his cheek to keep from crying out as he attempted to pry her fingers loose, but her grip was too strong. Isha twisted and turned her head from side-to-side in the throws of a silent nightmare. Dodie came to his aid and managed with great effort to loosen her grip. When his arm came free, Nathan clutched it too himself, rubbing it to restore the blood flow to his throbbing fingers. But in spite of the injury, he continued to tend to her while she slept.
“There’s something out there,” said Nathan. “It’s bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. Although, it’s skin reminds me of the large desert lizards of the East.”
“I felt the ground shaking, but could do little to investigate while tending to our young lady,” said Dodie. “Watch her for a moment.”
Dodie dashed out the door into the raging storm before, followed by Hanoch on his heels. Moments later, they appeared out of the storm with Dodie holding an enormous ball of steaming mud.
“It’s as I feared,” said Dodie.
“What is that?”
“It’s dung,” said Dodie.
Nathan had cleaned many animal stalls at the monastery but this was the largest he had seen.
“What animal makes that?”
“The Behemoth,” replied Dodie flatly. “Look at the puddles we’ve been tripping in a little closer.”
Nathan remembered the large pools he saw and had heard that such animals walked the lands in ancient days. Once, he held the enormous bones of one in his hand, but he never believed he would see one in the flesh.
“That’s only part of the problem,” said Dodie. He parted the dung with his fingers, dipping his hand in the steaming mass until it emerged holding a human skull. “It’s a flesh-eater.”
“What do you know about this creature?” Nathan said as he fought back his concern.
“Only that it’s very ancient. The Eldar-Tomes mention a time when Elyon put two great creatures on the earth as guardians, but they don’t mention if this beast is one of them. If it’s like other large animals, it probably ate this wayward soul a little over a day ago, judging by its droppings. The smoke from our fire must have made it come to investigate,” said Dodie cleaning his hands in the rain outside the window.
“Will it return?”
“Hard to say,” said Dodie. “Right now, I think the rain and the smoke of our fire is masking our scent a bit. Who can say what will happen when the rain stops.”
Isha awoke briefly and weakly looked around the room as Nathan entered. He went to her side, propped up her head and gave her a small drink.
“I dreamed about dying,” she whispered, “back in Pelan. When I died, you brought me back and now something’s different.”
“Old things are gone and the new has come,” he smiled.
“It was the strangest dream,” she whispered to him. “I was lost in a mist, scared and confused, when suddenly, I saw someone reaching out to me and I took his hand.”
“It’s God, he reached out to me too,” said Nathan.
“Let her be for the moment, she needs more rest,” said Dodie with a smile.
Nathan hated to admit it, but Dodie was right. So, he gently lay her head down again and allowed her to fall into calm slumber.
“Most people would have never survived what she did. She’s a strong one, that girl. It’s risky but we should stay here for the night and venture out tomorrow. We may be dodging The Behemoth tomorrow,” said Dodie as they all set down for the night.
Twenty-S
ix
“Worn Corners…”
Nathan awoke to a firm whack on the head that startled him into consciousness with the subtly of a rockslide.
“Which one of you changed my clothing,” shouted Isha, who stood in the middle of the room. She was tightly wrapped in the curtain that had been her bedding and clutching a knife so hard it turned her knuckles white. “Someone is a dead man.”
“Now see here young lady, I have a wife and daughters of my own whom I’ve tended in illness,” insisted Dodie holding his hands up in supplication. “I assure you I removed them underneath the bedding with extreme care for modesty sake.”
“What about these two slack-jawed peekers?” Said Isha, pointing the knife at Hanoch and Nathan.
“Isha, on my honor, I would never…” Nathan started.
“I would,” interrupted Hanoch as a matter of fact.
Isha’s face turned red with rage as she scanned the room for something heavy to throw. That is, until Dodie finally intervened.
“They stayed in the other room until your wounds were tended,” Dodie assured.
Isha searched their faces and no deceit surfaced, so she scaled back her anger, but remained in a foul mood.
“Get out,” she snarled, pushing the men out of the room so quickly they tripped over each other. The ancient wall quivered as Isha slammed the door shut and shoved the bolt in place.
They remained in the adjoining room in a state of awkward silence, waiting for her okay. Hanoch stood in the corner with his arms crossed, sporting an almost pleased look on his face.
“And that’s why we don’t encourage females to join my order,” said Hanoch.
“Will you shut up,” snapped Nathan, whose head that still ached from his rude awakening.
“You boys shouldn’t be too hard on her in spite of your scolding,” said Dodie. “My wife, Tulia, is from Jakoa Village near the Oak Forest that borders the Kedemoth Region where Isha’s people are. She told me many stories of that area. Formorians are a wild, mysterious and cruel people. That girl endured horrors beyond decent description. Hardship, brutality and punishment are the way of life for that area. Cruelty is even encouraged to ensure that the Grey Branch is feared and respected. The scars she bears on the outside are nothing compared to the ones she lives with on the inside.”
The Last Refuge Page 26
