by N C Bolton
Flat, expansive grasslands lined the road, with knots of large brown cattle, oxen, sheep, and goats cropping the growth. Intermittent bleats and moos harmonized with the continuous insect chorus. The bread-like smell of the grasses heating in the blistering sun reminded Rikk of his empty stomach.
Grass huts dotted an area near a stream flanked by stands of shade trees. Rikk peered into the small dwellings one by one. Empty. As they approached one of the last ones, Uncle Anek exited the doorway. His tall, sturdy build was clothed in patched, dusty clothes, his strong face lined and weathered. One of his eyes had been damaged and scarred over.
Rikk swallowed his shocked anguish and forced a smile. “Uncle,” he croaked out, his voice breaking. Anek stared at the man in front of him, his brows crinkled.
“It’s me, Rikk.”
Anek stepped closer and studied him with his good eye. His brow relaxed and a smile flooded his face. He clasped Rikk to him.
“I said you would come back. I told her you would.” He released Rikk and gestured to all of them. “Come in, come in. We have much to talk about.”
They followed him into the small hut and sat with him on the floor.
“Where are Aunt Cyra and Myla?” Rikk scanned the small room and its sparse furnishings. Such a change from the prosperous home he remembered, with its lavish couches and vibrant wall-hangings.
“Myla is resting,” Anek answered. “Your aunt is no longer with me. She didn’t wish to be a herder’s wife. She lives now with the headman’s personal tracker, as his mate.”
“How did this come to be?” Outrage at his aunt’s selfishness tightened his chest.
“After your parents were killed, the headman sent his swordsmen to my house the next day. I was suspect because of them, and had to be humbled. They gave me a choice. I could take my own life, or have my eye struck out and become a herder.”
He rubbed the skin under his scarred eye and gazed at Rikk. “I chose to live for Cyra and Myla. After a short time, Cyra couldn’t bear to live here with us. So she left. She’ll be at the procession now, with those heading the throng for the sacrifices.”
“We just came from the crowds, but I saw no fires prepared for the roasting of the bull and cow.”
Anek gave a deep sigh and shook his head. “The fires will be lit after the procession, during the ceremony. But the sacrifices changed years ago. Our old headman was prevailed over in battle with the hill-people. They brought their gods into our land and forced us to sacrifice as they do. The new headman is one of them.”
A sick sensation stirred in Rikk’s gut, coupled with a sense of foreboding. He nearly stopped his uncle from saying more, but forced himself to listen.
Anek continued, “Every year a lavish two-day feast is prepared for the city. The leaders choose a young man and woman who have reached their sixteenth year and sacrifice them before the feasting. They cut their throats then set them on fire. Their ashes are joined and sprinkled onto the soil for planting crops. It’s said to be an honor to the families, but I don’t believe this.”
Vinnt’s face had paled. Rikk stared at Anek then met the widened eyes of his friends. How could his uncle and sister bear to live in such a place? “I must see Myla.”
“Allow me to speak first so you’ll understand. I had to do what I did.” He bent his head forward, his gaze drifting toward the doorway, as his hand rubbed the back of his neck. “I was told Cyra wished to bring honor back to our family and to me. She offered Myla for harvest sacrifice. I was warned by a friend that someone would come for her. So I saved her from it. She agreed.”
He paused and drew in a heavy breath. “Three days past, I gave her a sleeping herb and chopped off the top of her right foot. They believed my story of her accident with the hatchet and chose a different young woman, one who was undamaged.”
Rikk swallowed hard at the pain in his uncle’s face. His desire for revenge awoke, while he drew in some deep breaths to try and calm his fury. He had to stay in control. All four men were silent. The sound of distant trumpets from the city alerted Rikk. He imagined they heralded the impending sacrifices. He forced the repugnant image from his mind. The land had been cruel enough before, but now this? A wave of longing for his peaceful, faraway home hit him hard. Sorrow for his uncle and sister weighed on his chest. They had to escape this place. He stood and placed his hand on Anek’s bowed head.
“I understand, Uncle. May I see her now?”
Anek raised his head and flashed Rikk a grateful look. He stood, stepped forward, and drew back a heavy cloth that hung over a doorway. “She’s in here.”
Myla lay on her side, sleeping on a mat on the floor, her right foot wrapped in cloths.
Anek whispered, “I’ve been giving her herbs for healing and sleep. She’s recovering.”
Rikk stared at his lovely grown sister, head cradled on her arm, thick dark hair streaming across her pillow. A fierce, protective surge of love propelled him forward and he knelt down.
“Myla…Myla.” He touched her face and smiled when she gazed up at him. “I’m here. It’s Rikk.”
She blinked and studied his face. “Is it truly you?”
He nodded. “It is.”
Her eyes flooded with tears and she clasped her arms around his neck. He gathered her to him and shed tears of his own. An empty part of his heart filled while he held her. Though he belonged nowhere, he knew now he belonged to his sister.
She drew back and rested a hand on the side of his face. “Where have you been?”
“In a place of healing. I’ll take you there if you’ll leave.”
A troubled expression flickered across her brow. “I don’t wish to part from Uncle.”
“He can come as well.” Rikk glanced at Anek.
His uncle paused a moment before he addressed Myla. “We’d have to hurry and leave while the city is distracted.” He turned to Rikk. “Once the talk begins, they would have you answer for the years you were gone. The memory of your parents and their dispute of traditions remain.”
Rikk nodded at him. Anek gathered their few things into bundles and Rikk turned back to look at his sister.
“But I can’t walk.” Her sad gaze focused on her wrapped foot.
“I’ll carry you.” Rikk smiled, picked her up, and settled her in his arms. “And now we’ll leave this place.”
Chapter Four
Anek distributed packs to Vinnt and Enmin then shouldered a large one. Rikk adjusted Myla onto his back with care, looping her legs through his arms. He grinned back at her.
“And this is how I carried you when you were a child.”
Her laughter delighted him. “I remember, Brother.”
He patted one of the hands on his shoulder. “And I remember your laugh.”
Anek led them behind the line of huts, moving swiftly toward the stands of trees bordering the flats.
“We came by the river,” Rikk told him, “near the old worship place.”
“Good,” Anek said. “They built a new worship place and no longer keep watch at the old one. Hurry,” he urged as he looked back. “We can’t know if anyone is near.”
“We saw no one as we approached,” Enmin said.
Vinnt asked Rikk, “Will they follow us?”
“I’m sure they will, but not at first. It’ll take time for them to discover Uncle and Myla are gone. Then the man I spoke to will tell them I was here.”
“Then why did you tell him who you were?” Vinnt asked.
“I had to show my family cloth to find Uncle and Myla, or they would have been suspicious of me right away. Nothing will happen until after the festival. By then we should be far away.”
“They won’t give up easily,” Anek said. “Cyra will fear suspicion directed at her, so she’ll try to make sure our escape fails. The new leader is worse than the old headman. He’s sacrificed many questioners. They know my brother questioned and that his son ran away. Once they know Rikk was here and Myla and I have fled, they will follow.”
They reached the boat and scrambled in. Enmin scanned the sky. “No wind. We’ll use the oars.”
Rikk settled Myla down before they pushed away from shore. While they paddled, Rikk studied his uncle. “Would Aunt Cyra not try to stop them? You said she wished to bring honor back to you. Why would she see you harmed?”
“Do not call her aunt.” Anek’s voice broke over the final word, and he remained silent for a moment, eyes averted while slight clenches worked his jaw before he spoke. “I told a falsehood to spare your memories of her. It wasn’t truly to bring us honor. It was to show all of them she could be trusted. To offer one’s own niece for sacrifice would prove her loyalty.” Myla’s eyes filled with tears as she and Anek exchanged a look of pain. His uncle looked off across the water, a hollow aspect in his eyes.
He brought his hard stare back to Rikk. “She left us long ago. She’s chosen her path.”
Rage toward his aunt’s unspeakable betrayals increased his grip on the oars and he lost himself in the rapid flow of the strokes, spending his anger as he kept his vision trained on the muddy river water flowing past. The contrast of his reality versus that of his uncle and sister filled his thoughts. His own life had been abundant at the village, full of learning and peace, while theirs was a hard struggle in a place of fear. Guilt at his fortunate life churned in his guts. Their horrid circumstances filled his heart with compassion and longing to show them a stable life.
His body toiled on, and he paced his strokes with the other men. He searched the horizon while he wished he could will them all back to the village in an instant.
Please let our travel be swift. Heal the hearts of my sister and uncle. Let them know peace and safety.
After fast, silent leagues passed, he spotted a young deer drinking on the nearby shore. An alligator thrashed up and jerked it into the water, rolling it under the surface as its legs kicked in vain and went still. As a boy, Rikk had been taught to shout praises whenever a predator made a kill. Now he looked away, and his gaze traveled to Anek and Myla, who watched him.
“You’ve learned new ways, Rikk.” Anek studied his nephew.
“Many new ways.”
“I’d like to hear them, and about where we’re going,” Myla said.
“It’s a long journey. I will shave time to tell you when we stop to rest.”
They paddled through the night without stopping, taking turns to rest as Myla slept. In the morning, they found a sandy place, pulled the boat up, and sat on the shore to fix a meal.
Once the food had been passed around, Rikk and his friends sang their thanks.
Anek thrust up a hand when they brought the food to their lips. “Stop. Do we not offer a portion first? I know we cannot risk fire, but we can bury it.”
Enmin said, “This is not our way. Our offering is our thanks.”
“And your god accepts this? Does he not need the food as you do?”
Rikk raised a palm. “Uncle, we have much to discuss, but for now we should eat and continue our journey.”
Anek let out a breath and nodded. “Very well. We dare not stop too long. Once they decide to come after us, they’ll be swift.”
“I know.” Rikk remembered well what excellent trackers and sailors his former people were.
“Perhaps we should leave the river after a time and go by foot,” Enmin said. “They wouldn’t expect it.”
Rikk rubbed his chin and stared at the shoreline. “It’d be difficult, and we may run out of supplies before we reach the village. And we don’t know if we’d be seen by others who might tell.”
Enmin nodded and shared a glance with Vinnt. “We must take counsel on this.”
Rikk smiled at Anek and Myla. “Please wait while they pray for guidance.”
A slight scowl flickered across Enmin’s face as he stared at Rikk. “You ask with us.”
Rikk swallowed down the flash of confusion at Enmin’s command. Enmin knew Rikk had never had a prayer vision. Why would he expect Rikk to join in on a prayer for guidance? He was as unfit for that as Myla or Anek. Despite his misgivings, he closed his eyes and pulled his thoughts inward. Low hums of prayer from Enmin and Vinnt sounded for a time then grew silent. Rikk stood steady, with eyes closed, his mind focused on a silent inward plea that Enmin and Vinnt would be given direction. When his friends stirred out of prayer, Rikk opened his eyes to see the furrowed brows and puzzled eyes of his uncle and sister. How odd this must seem to them.
Enmin said, “We’ll fill the boat with stones and sink it in a muddy area near shore where the shadows will conceal it. We know which way to go now.”
“But how do you know?” Myla searched their faces.
“We’ve seen it.” Vinnt brushed sand off his hands and stood.
“How? Where have you seen it?” Anek asked.
“In here.” Vinnt touched his eyelids. “This is how we receive guidance during prayer.”
Myla glanced at her uncle with an open-mouthed expression. Rikk averted his gaze, hoping she wouldn’t ask him if he was answered this way also. Vinnt chuckled a little and began a short prayer of thanks while they gathered heavy rocks. Once the boat had been positioned in an area near shore, shadowed by tall rushes and trees, they loaded it with stones until it rested on the muddy bottom.
“Now we must pack up the supplies,” Enmin said. Rikk took the boat’s large sail and fashioned a sling for Myla to sit in and rest against his back while he walked. The other men shouldered the packs.
After they brushed away their footprints from the beach, Enmin led them into the nearby jungle. They walked single file, careful to leave no tracks.
“Keep your feet and hands close to me, and break no branches or bend any leaves,” Rikk told Myla.
“But how will they know we’ve left the water?”
“Once they don’t find us anywhere on the river, they’ll begin searching the land. By then I hope we’ll be home.” The thought of the village sparked yearning and a touch of sorrow. His doubts about his faith and where he belonged would likely ruin the life he’d known there.
Myla’s voice edged upward. “You call it home?”
“Yes. It’s my home now. It can be yours too, if you wish.”
She remained quiet for a time. “I don’t know what I wish. Except that I want things to be as they used to be when we were with mother and father. That’s my true wish.”
“You’ll see them only in dreams now, as I do. We have to go forward.”
“But I don’t know where we’re going. How do I go forward in a strange place?”
“I’ll help you. That’s why I came back---to bring you with me. The elders all saw you in dreams and told me it was time to bring you out of the Fierce Land.”
After a silence Myla asked, “How do these elders know anything about me?”
“The same way we receive guidance. It’s given with inner vision or in dreams.”
Myla’s brow furrowed. “Who are the elders?”
“They’re the oldest and the leaders of our village. One of them is named Erdon. He’s the one who found me under a tree.”
Myla rested her cheek against his back.
“After I left, I traveled for more days than I could count. I wouldn’t have kept track anyway, because I was sure I’d die. If I heard or saw people, I hid until they traveled on. I wanted to see no face, hear no voice. My heart was empty.”
He pulled the sling straps further up on his shoulders. “After a time, the land grew steep and I shivered at night, even under my blankets. But I kept walking, though I had no notion where to go. By the time I reached a high land with many strange trees, my strength and my food ran out. I sat under a tree with strange wooden blossoms and a pleasant smell. I thought it a suitable place to die. So I waited for my breath to stop.”
Myla asked, “Weren’t you fearful?”
“No. I felt nothing until I saw a man walk toward me through the trees. His face and head had thick hair, and he was tall and strong. I had no strength left to r
un, so I waited for my death at his hands.”
“How did you get away from him?”
“I didn’t. He stopped and spoke to me. His voice pleased me, and he smiled many times while he spoke to me. He brought me to the village and into his house. Then I lay in a room for days, unaware of anything but the struggle inside me.”
“Were you sick?” Myla shifted in the sling and rested her hands on his shoulders.
“No. I traveled in a twilight world in my mind. I saw our parents, and you, and Aunt and Uncle. I saw our home, and then it all disappeared and I was alone. I could have given myself to the dark and the silence. I wanted to, but somehow my strength returned and I woke. I was told that the One restored me, and so I began my new life.”
“Who is the One?”
“The Elders teach us the One is the Creator of all things, all life.” He swept his hand toward the land and horizon. “Everything you behold comes from the One.”
“How do you know this?”
“The elders and the people told me about the One.” Rikk wiped the sweat from his brow, breathing in deep breaths to offset the physical strain of the heavy-laden trek through humid air.
“Does the One dwell at your village?”
Rikk leaned forward to duck under a low branch. “The One dwells everywhere. Even within the people of the village.”
“How?”
“In their mind and heart.”
Rikk trekked on as Myla remained silent. He knew how such words had confused him at first and sparked resistance. Now they filled him with sadness because he didn’t share this inner experience with the villagers.
“Your friends said they saw our path inside their eyes.” Myla’s low tone intrigued him. “Is the One the source of knowing?”
Rikk laughed and almost stopped his stride. “How much you understand already, Sister. Yes, the writings tell us that the One designs each living thing and places knowledge within it. You’ve seen how most creatures have knowledge from birth and know their place and way of life. And yet with people, the One increases knowledge about all creation. If a person will learn it. How did you think of this question?”
