Return to the Fierce Land

by N C Bolton

  They didn’t consult each other before these changes, so how were they sure? Perhaps they’d memorized the map? Or did they receive internal visions during prayer? Rikk remained silent with his questions. He could do nothing, and the thought of voicing his questions and doubts unsettled and embarrassed him.

  Though the wind and water furnished a slight breeze, the incessant heat grew worse as they continued. Vinnt’s face and upper body burned red then faded to reddish-tan, sweat forming constant rivulets down his face and back. Enmin’s and Rikk’s natural tans deepened as they bore trickles of sweat during the day.

  Rikk’s body recalled the heavy sensation, the way his bones and flesh surrendered and became dull with the heat. The remembered daytime lethargy of his childhood flooded his awareness and threatened to slow his mind into apathy. He splashed river water on his face throughout the days and each evening his skin welcomed the cooler night air.

  On the fourth day after they’d lost the map, Rikk spotted a mountain formation in the distance, far inland. The thud of recognition stirred a hollow sensation inside. He’d gazed on the far-off white-topped mountain as a boy and wondered what it might look like if he scaled its solitary peak one day and breathed the cold, fresh air.

  He must close off memories or they’d sap his strength. He’d think of Myla now and nothing else. The dread he’d successfully mastered re-awoke and forged a sluggish path beneath his outward calm.

  Rikk studied the shoreline up ahead. They drew close to his boyhood home. How his companions knew to arrive at such a precise spot staggered him.

  “Find a shallow place,” Rikk said. “We must shave again.”

  The water lapped around them, waist-high, while they shaved. After a thorough scraping, they checked each other for any tell-tale stray hairs and re-entered the boat.

  “We’re close now,” Rikk said when large stone monuments came into view, their indistinct outlines sparking unwanted recognition. He was no longer accustomed to the sight of such objects, and shock coursed through his body. Memories clamored at the edge of his mind. Agonized loss, blood and despair. But he forced his thoughts to the present and the challenge at hand.

  They beached the boat, took down the mast, and wedged both beneath a growth of shoreline rushes. After scanning their surroundings again, they changed into the clothes provided to them. Silence reigned, broken only by the buzz of insects and slight whisper of water. The three trudged along, Rikk in the lead as they grew accustomed to the sandy surface and made their way to the stone structures.

  Rikk studied the terrain, expecting to spot worshippers among the statues, bearing offerings as they trekked toward the area. None appeared and no voices sounded to add to the incessant hum of pests. Rikk focused his attention on the statues. The three regarded them in silence.

  One depicted a leopard, its teeth sunk into the neck of a deer, large paws gripping the shoulders of its prey. The deer's expression spoke of sheer terror. Near to it was a bear with a dead man lifted in its clamped jaws. Snakes, alligators, hawks, all shown in the act of killing other animals and people, surrounded them as they stood in the center of the clearing.

  The dread inside Rikk rose to meet the images, as though amplified by the violence portrayed in them. He forced it back down and stole a quick glance at Vinnt. His friend had never been forced to view such things, or take part in worship of them as Rikk and Enmin had.

  The disgust and horror he expected to see on Vinnt’s face was absent. Instead, sorrow and compassion flowed from his features. He hummed a low portion of a prayer for mercy, which Enmin took up as well. Rikk closed his open mouth while his body relaxed. The power the statues once wielded over Rikk’s boyhood mind retreated in the face of the benevolent song.

  His heart swelled in his chest while he drew in a forceful breath. He spoke to the monuments in an echoing, defiant tone. “You have nothing to say. You have no voice.” He laughed and shook his head. “You aren’t trees or water. You’re as dead as a tomb. You’re not even as alive as splintered sea-shells or a broken twig.”

  He soared inside, light and strong as he faced them down. His companions each laid a hand on his shoulders and stood a moment longer with him before the three strode away, leaving the images behind.

  As the men approached the city with its colorful tents and structures visible in the distance, Rikk walked slightly ahead, clutching in his hand a piece of cloth with his family emblems on it. He glanced at it, the only item remaining of his boyhood, and tucked it into the side of his waistband. Though a few travelers walked far ahead, the road behind them was empty.

  The humidity and fragrant smell of forgotten flowers invaded him, bringing with them incomplete flashes of memory he tried to deflect as he did the insects that buzzed in the air. Yet the images battered insistently at his soul, fraught with the promise of pain. His little sister screaming, someone’s death groans, his own breathless running as he escaped this land. He raised a shaking hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

  What am I doing here?

  Chapter Three

  The question hit Rikk like a sudden internal blast of wind and made his breath catch. Despite the heat, a powerful chill washed through him. His steps slowed while his view of the city ahead undulated in the heat waves shimmering up from the ground.

  “I can’t,” he heard himself say, as though from a distance.

  A small hill off to the right sported a few trees. Shade, that’s what he needed, and a moment to rest out of sight. He dashed toward it and brushed away the gnats attempting to land on his sweaty forehead. He collapsed under a tree, heart racing.

  Enmin studied Rikk, concern filling his eyes. Vinnt knelt next to Rikk, holding out a water-skin. Rikk forced down a few swallows and handed it back.

  “It’s not water that he needs.” Enmin sat near Rikk.

  Rikk cleared his throat. “I can’t go. I’m not ready.”

  Shame at his cowardice almost choked him. Even the thought of Myla waiting somewhere ahead failed to strengthen his resolve. Panic welled up from deep inside his core and blotted out reason. A groan escaped him while he fought against the onslaught of emotions.

  Enmin’s voice reached him through the storm of terror. “Speak it out. Release it.”

  “I can’t.” Rikk curled into himself, arms wrapped against his shuddering middle.

  “You can’t hold it in any longer. It’s time.”

  Rikk heaved in a breath and anger fueled his spat-out words. “Leave me alone.”

  “He’s right, Rikk.” Vinnt moved closer to him.

  “No, no, no.” He rocked and tried to catch his breath, beyond embarrassment at his weakness. If he could just escape this place, all would be well again. Nobody had the right to stop him. He tried to rise but his rubbery limbs wouldn’t hold him.

  Enmin and Vinnt braced him back to the ground. “Stop this,” Enmin said. “Face it.”

  Rage bloomed in Rikk’s chest. “What do you know of facing? You ran away after a beating.”

  “And what did you run from?” Enmin’s intense, calm voice rang in his ears.

  A moan ripped out of Rikk, as painful as a fist to his stomach. The long-buried image surfaced of his dying parents, their blood spreading across the floor of their home while his sister’s shrieks filled his ears.

  “They killed them,” he rasped, the horror of the memory engulfing his mind. “Just because they questioned. They stabbed their bodies. The blood.”

  He looked at his hands, expecting to see his parents’ blood covering them as it once had long ago after his useless attempts to rouse them. His voice took on the shattered, agonized tone of a child, breaking in a sob. “Please don’t die. Please, Father . . . Mama, please.”

  His uncle had run, carrying Myla. Her screams faded while Rikk stood frozen, staring at the dead faces of his parents. Hopeless, timeless silence had filled his soul until the approach of marching feet roused him.

  Awareness of his friends intruded on the memory and Ri
kk covered his face. “I did nothing. The marchers came, and I hid like a rabbit.”

  “What else could you do?” Vinnt asked.

  Rikk bolted his head up. “I could have tried to punish them. Grabbed one of their swords and made them sorry. I should have died with my parents.” Tears of shame streamed down as his voice cracked and wavered. “Instead I heard them drag their bodies outside the town to be left for the Devourers to pick at and gnaw until—”

  He fought back a spasm of nausea as his voice failed and broken sobs convulsed his body. He groaned and shook his head. “I ran to Aunt and Uncle’s home. After that, I left Myla with them while I escaped. I did nothing . . . I am nothing.”

  He stared at the ground, eyes and ears blind to everything but his inadequacy. His life was a fake, a shell, and he was unworthy of love or peace. He had no more honor than a mouse running from the hawk. And he deserved the same frightened death as any coward.

  “You told me years ago that your uncle sent you from the Fierce Land,” Vinnt said.

  Rikk sucked in a breath, his tears diminishing. “He did. He told me the headman would watch me for any sign of questioning or disobedience to the Devourers or to him. But I should have stayed. Once grown, I’d have figured out a way to make them pay.”

  Enmin shook his head. “Have the elders and the people taught you nothing? Did you come here for revenge?”

  Rikk’s breath hitched as the truth came into focus. “No. I came for Myla, and for all of you.”

  But now?

  “Yes . . . that’s what I want, too. Revenge.”

  An image of himself wielding a sword filled him with glorious rage. He’d kill all the leaders and become the headman. He’d protect Myla and be stronger, more powerful than any Devourer. His depleted energy surged. Yes, this was his path. The One would wish to see such justice accomplished. Vinnt and Enmin would recognize the rightness in it. He brought his gaze to his friends.

  Enmin’s set face and steady eyes jolted his conviction. Vinnt’s features wore an expression of solemnity and pain as his eyes searched Rikk’s. The grip of his fury snapped. What would the elders say to him now, or the villagers? Such a path would forever disconnect him from their fellowship.

  Rikk hung his head. Always unworthy, no matter what I do.

  The wave of exhilaration drained from him. Hollowed out and exhausted, he sank onto his side in the sandy dirt. “I’ll never find peace.”

  “Not in that way,” Enmin said.

  He shut his eyes. Silence spread out like a mist. Everyone else fit somewhere, but not him. Every creature knew its function, where it belonged. But he belonged nowhere.

  Why did You make me, if I have no place, no direction? Why send me back here?

  Myla. He had to find Myla and bring her to the village. Perhaps that was his only function. His hands gripped into fists. Despite what his friends thought, he’d have to find a sword somewhere. He’d be forced to follow a path away from Enmin and Vinnt, away from the elders. And the One.

  Sorrow at the loss of their regard and companionship broke his heart, yet he steeled himself for the bloody task ahead, his mind full of the clashing of swords. Despair at the futility of his future constricted his throat. No other choice remained in such a place. He’d been foolish to walk into this violent land with nothing more than hope and trust.

  He’d seen the penalty his parents paid and had learned never to question aloud, not to voice doubt. Yet doubts remained inside. Perhaps even the elders or the One would punish his doubts and reject him.

  Freedom didn’t exist, and peaceful dreams were an illusion. His first boyhood had died in blood, now the second one died in despair. Nothing left but duty. His fears were true. He’d never really belonged to the villagers. Now he never would.

  “Leave me now,” he said. “You can’t help me.”

  “We won’t leave you any more than the One will leave you.” Vinnt laid a hand on his shoulder.

  Rikk sat up and glanced with weariness upon his friend. “I’m already rejected. I don’t have your faith. I’ll go on alone.”

  Enmin studied him. “Why do you say this, that you’re rejected?”

  “Because I doubt, that’s why. I question. Doubts and questions are punished in this land and everywhere. There’s no place for me. I have only duty and death. But I will find my sister; that much I know.”

  Enmin and Vinnt stared at him while the drone of insects continued its hypnotic thrum.

  Enmin asked, “Can a man’s wrong deeds be forgiven, Rikk?”

  Rikk nodded. “In the village, yes.”

  “Does forgiveness come from the One who is everywhere?”

  “Yes, I believe it does.”

  “What have you done to be rejected?”

  Rikk’s shoulders dropped as a sigh escaped him. “Because I don’t believe I can find Myla without a sword, and I can’t go back to the village or stay with you after I walk the only path I see. I must have been rejected all along because of who I am. I see no other way but the road that leads me away from the elders and the One.”

  Vinnt shifted off his knees and sat on the ground. “You speak of the One as though he thinks as a person does, or would act as those who killed your parents. He wouldn’t lead us here only to trap you into actions that would cause your rejection. And He knows the thoughts of your heart already. Bring to mind what the writings tell us.”

  Enmin nodded, amplifying Rikk’s unease. Their confidence thrust a stab of pain through him. If he were accepted by the One, then he would think and speak as they did. His sureness of his own outcast position increased.

  “The writings are not for me, or anyone from the Fierce Land.”

  “Then how do you account for me?” Enmin asked.

  Rikk shook his head. “Am I an elder? Can I answer every question? I told you both to leave me. Wait at the boat, and if I succeed, I’ll bring Myla and you can take her back with you.”

  Vinnt exchanged a glance with Enmin. “And what will become of you?”

  “I don’t know.” He sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t belong anywhere.”

  Enmin’s features hardened, his eyes almost glittering. “I’ve heard enough of this talk. You started on this journey, and you can still finish it as you planned. Why do you let fear change your mind?”

  “I told you to leave me.” Rikk clenched his jaw. How many words would it take for Enmin to understand? “If I was afraid, I wouldn’t be willing to go forward. I must find a sword. There’s no other way to get my sister.”

  Vinnt stared at him. “Of course there is. The One wouldn’t send you on a futile journey or leave you without help. We’ll wait here until you’re ready.”

  “We’ll wait.” Enmin nodded.

  Anger at their stubbornness energized his shaky limbs. Rikk shot upright and stood, fixing them with a glare. He paced, hands clasped behind him. If they insisted on following him, they might be injured or killed by those he’d have to fight. His thoughts swirled inside like dead leaves scattering in the wind. One idea after another surfaced, only to be discarded. Confusion sapped him and he sank down under a tree, his hopeless gaze fixed on the blistering sky.

  A glance at his companions showed them with eyes closed, faces placid. Why couldn’t he be like them? Despair carved an icy emptiness inside him. He shut his eyes, fists clenched at his sides.

  In his mind, he imagined his northern home, the familiar rhythms of work and prayer calling to him while the faces he’d grown to love unfolded before him. He could imagine himself standing alone outside the village. The elders and all the people waited for him as Vinnt and Enmin waited for him now. And somewhere ahead, Myla waited.

  For all of them, he had to go on, trusting that Enmin and Vinnt would be guided and their faith would protect even him. A doubter, but not a coward. At least he was willing to go forward. It’s all he had left, so he wrapped it around himself like a cloak and waited for Vinnt and Enmin to finish praying. He wouldn’t burden them with his d
oubts again. When his friends opened their eyes and beheld him, he shored up his remaining strength. “I’m ready.”

  To his surprise, they asked him nothing, merely helped him to his feet, and nodded at him. The three turned back onto the road toward the city.

  When they drew closer, they saw throngs of people wearing sheer, brightly colored clothes standing about, all staring in the same direction. Excited bursts of chatter erupted all around, and Rikk sensed anticipation of a celebration vibrating through the crowd. The three slowed down while they mingled among the people. The scent of familiar spices and perfumes filled Rikk’s nostrils.

  A scan of the people’s clothing and then the walls of nearby buildings spiked his memory. Familiar painted depictions of predators adorned the walls, along with a prominent, repeated image he’d never seen. It was the head of a man with furious, clouded eyes and a huge open mouth with teeth like a leopard. Something had changed here, and caution seeped through him, heightening his senses.

  Some of the people nearby stared at him, speaking in low tones. Rikk returned their gaze, eyes steady, chin held high with the bravado he knew they respected. A slender man with a weathered face and colorful silken clothes edged near Rikk.

  “Where do you come from?”

  “From here. I’ve been away many years, following my uncle’s command. I came to report to him what I’ve seen.”

  “You come at a good time. It’s harvesting festival.”

  Harvest festival. The only occasion when the city displayed communal joy or welcome. Rikk marveled at the opportune timing of their arrival. He showed the man his family emblems. “Do you know my uncle Anek?”

  The man’s friendly expression turned sober. “He won’t be here for festival. He’s a herder now and lives in the huts by the flats.”

  Rikk masked his astonished confusion at the information and nodded at the man. He gestured the direction to his friends and turned away from the crowd to head to the grazing fields. Myla and Anek were somewhere ahead. Rikk’s steps grew swifter, and the excited sounds of the city diminished behind them. Questions churned in his mind as he walked. How had his uncle dropped from his trade as a respected artisan of intricate metalwork and jewelry to toiling at the lowliest work?