“One of the refugee women was in dire distress over birthing and Gisela was called by the midwives to assist. She knows how to reposition the baby.”
Even as Sur Sceaf nodded solemnly, he was grinning inside. With that fearsome harpy now absent, he was free to fly the coop. Perhaps to even down a krug of high desert ale, should he come across one. Carefully, he tossed off the sheet Flicka had just put around him.
“Shall I assist you to the water closet?”
“No, I can manage. I intend to take myself for a walk.”
Flicka frowned, “Gisela will skin me alive if I permit you to leave your sick bed.”
“My mo mo sis says fresh air and sunshine heal better than anything. Besides, my sis knows how I need my head on all matters. You don’t wish to go up against the queen, do you?” Carefully he eased his legs over the side of his bed, got slowly to his feet. His head spun for a few moments, but he felt surprisingly animated.
“But you have no clothing other than a loin cloth. At least let me find you a robe.”
“Thank you. And can you help me get my moccasins on?” He gingerly eased himself into the chair.
Flicka obtained the moccasins he had discarded when he came in and assisted him in putting them on.
“Since I cannot dissuade you, I would have your promise that you will return within the hour. Gisela will be occupied for at least that long.”
“I can’t make you a solid promise, but I’ll try and if there is any repercussion, I will bear full responsibility for it.”
She put an ornate robe over him. Although she still looked worried, she nodded, “Please, be careful. I don’t want to be blamed if you’re not.”
“Believe me, I can promise that much,” he said.
After relieving himself in the water closet, he exited the infirmary by a side door, bade farewell to Flicka, and then, looking yet half-dead, in robe, moccasins, and head bandages he took off for the open air. He found himself in a narrow cobblestone alley between the infirmary and a wooden wall that was part of the Queen’s Garden, which she had specially made as a haven for friends, family, and her personal officers. It was the perfect place to meditate and test his wings. Halfway down the wall was the wooden gate. It creaked on its hinges as he opened it. Inside was a maze of meandering walkways. Slowly following a path along the freshly turned earth ready for planting, he turned to walk down the path of lilacs, roses, lavender, and rosemary. He saw several lovely May trees in full blow guarding the arbor draped in Lady Bank’s roses and noted the may blow had already taken place down in Witan Jewell. The south wall curved around the back of the garden and supported an enormous megalith, placed thus to honor the God Tyranus. In front of the megalith rose a trysting stone. Outside the fence a stairway led to the upper levels. He carefully lowered himself on to a bench in the dappled shade and gave thanks once again to the gods for his deliverance.
The filtered sun bathed his skin in the most pleasant of warm caresses, taking his mind away from the many aches and pains he felt while lying confined to a sick bed. Instead of the smell of a sick room with its incense and linens, he inhaled the perfumed air of the high desert. His spirits were soaring. His body no longer felt like an enemy set to betray him. It was once again his friend. For the first time since the Pitters had surrounded him, he felt the joys of freedom and the return of normalcy.
With a lazy gaze, he followed the climbing yellow rose canes that meandered along the wall to the second level of the city. To his surprise, he spied Mendaka at the top of the first flight of stairs on the landing studying the curious stonework of the south wall.
He yelled, “Mendaka, yeoh, down here. In the garden.”
Mendaka turned and looked, waved, and ran down the stone stairway, and came through the garden gate and down the cobblestone walkway to Sur Sceaf. “My lord, you have risen!”
“More like escaped. I couldn’t stand lying idle in a sick bed all day. As soon as that harpy turned her back I flew the coop.”
Mendaka laughed, “I have been on a tour of the city. Around every turn I discovered the most amazing of wonders; shops with every imaginable commodity, stone totems, and engineering feats that amaze me. But mostly I have been impressed with the cleanliness of the streets and the magnificence of the wall. Particularly, how integrated the natural stone flows into the man-made wall and structures. It’s as if they are one.”
“When my father, Va-Eyra, and Rusyrus discussed with Muryh the making of this place into a fortress, Fa wanted to make use of the natural stone walls that were already here. I don’t recall all of the details because I was only fifteen winters and most of my energy went into hunting in those days. But I do remember that Muryh gathered most of the stone work from the center of the crater.”
Mendaka noted, “I’ve been memorizing the layout of this fortress. Whether we build out of rock or wood, there are lots of good ideas for modeling our fortress on the coast after this place. I noticed there were buildings here that were not here before, like that big house to the southeast.”
“That’s for temporary housing of refugees fleeing from the Pitter onslaught.”
“And I don’t remember the barracks for the fyrd being as large as it is now.”
“The queen deems it necessary to add three additional fyrds and has placed Ilrundel in command over them.”
Mendaka helped Sur Sceaf exit the Queen’s Garden to ascend to the second level of the city where Sur Sceaf had to pause to catch his breath.
“Do you think we’ll ever be able to build anything quite like it on the coast?” Mendaka asked.
“I have no doubt. Since Muryh built this mighty wall as a bulwark for his brother, Rusyrus, I imagine he’s learned a lot and probably has something even more magnificent in mind for the coast. Pity is that Rusyrus never really got to enjoy the magnificence of this place. As you know, he died in the Battle of Salem shortly after the birth of Syr Elf. A great loss to us all.”
“As I was eating a blackberry roll, down by the bakery, the baker told me, almost every food item has its origins here. But where does all the produce and fodder come from?”
“I will show you, if you will help me up the stairs to the top of the north wall of the city and there you shall behold.” They stopped and looked at the endless rows of neatly painted houses, one after another in colors of red, teal, Saxon green, and periwinkle. Many of them had patios with small dooryards that were filled with potted trees, shrubs, and flowers. Even now workmen were busy laying down fresh cobble stones, while others were cleaning the runnels. Women were busy hanging clothing out to dry on racks, and ladies were off to the market, baskets in hand. It was a picture of a prosperous, self-sustaining, and highly organized society. A class of children approximately the age of Sur Sceaf’s hellion twins, Ev-Rhett and Russell, who had just turned eight, were likely on a field trip descending the stairs with easels in hand as they passed them. Some couldn’t refrain from staring at his wounds and welts. Sur Sceaf smiled at their finger pointing and whispers.
After they arrived on the landing of the third level, they rested again and Dak asked, “When last I was here, I only remember two pigeon towers. Now I count twelve.”
“The queen has many more messages from the watch towers in the desert, from the Rogue and other nations hereabouts. These pigeons were bred here for the long distances. Some even come from as far away as the Buffalo Nations, the Hutters, and the Presters.”
“It looks like they are being cleaned out.”
In exchange for the free fertilizer the growers and the gardeners trade the dovers fresh produce for the queen’s court.”
Dak pointed to the tall stone silos. “I assume that those silos serve the same purpose as the ones in Witan Jewell?”
“Yes, they store enough grain to feed the entire city for two years when under siege. Every year the shepherds empty them on a rotating basis to flush their sheep with. Then the dry farmers refill them. It’s the same with the cisterns. All over this city are cist
erns loaded with water enough to sustain man and beast for two years. Many of them are conveniently hidden throughout. Likewise the large barns up here have ample hay for the same reason.”
“So that’s how the queen held off four Pitter legions three winters ago.”
Sur Sceaf said, “Exactly, the Pitters surrounded the fortress. They held siege for two moonths which is as long as their supplies lasted, and then the Pitters told Va they knew she and her people were starving and said they would be merciful if she surrendered.” Taking a deep breath, he slowly began climbing the stairs to the upper wall.
Mendaka fell in beside him, keeping a watchful eye in his direction. “Well, what did your sister do then?” he asked.
“She had all the fat women in the city stand atop the south wall and bare their bottoms.”
Mendaka gave out a laugh. “Speak to me, Sweet Cheeks!”
“Upon seeing so many women still in good flesh, the Pitter legions pulled up camp that same day, and being low on supplies, fled swiftly to the Eugene Zonga. But the Cat Queen had her designs and like the chess master she is, out smarted them by being prepared, she had anticipated their every move and overtook the legions in the forest on their march up the mountains. She broke them on the breast of the Three Sisters.” Sur Sceaf caught his breath again. “She has a long standing history of deploying her troops very effectively and the forests were ever the friend of the Herewardi in battle. Even as a child Va-Eyra was always thinking three steps ahead of me. She was damned near unbeatable in chess. After the Battle of the Three Sisters, Sur Spear took to calling her the Desert Rose because, not only is she beautiful, but she is a thorn to the Pitters, a dread and terror to them, and one of the reasons they gave up the idea of placing a zonga anywhere in these parts. But she is also as soft and sweet as a rose petal to those she rules, rescues, and protects. Countless refugees have hidden in the comfort of her shadow until they can move on to safer havens.”
“Indeed she is praiseworthy,” Mendaka said. “How revered and loved the queen is by her people. She thinks of everything from weapons to entertainment, to the comfort of her guests, and is prepared for peace as well as war.”
Sur Sceaf paused and leaned against the wall to rest. After three flights of stairs, his strength was taking longer between walks to recover. Catching Mendaka’s concerned look, he said, “Just a few more steps Mendaka and you shall get a breath robbing view of the surrounding countryside.”
Mendaka asked, “Shall I help you?”
“Not necessary, lets go.”
Once they got atop the north wall, Sur Sceaf walked over to the large megaliths comprising two large stones supporting a third in the manner of a door, a window of Heaven, or a menhil as the Herewardi refer to them. Altogether there are twelve positioned by godhi priests, who take great pride in their star gazing and had built this to be like a giant sundial or celestial calender.
“My father used to bring me up here for worship when I was a boy of fifteen. He would read the runes written on each megalith and explain what that particular window of Heaven meant. I remember staying up here for hours watching swallows and swifts darting and swooping through the air.”
“By Tah-Man-Ea, it looks like a Quailor’s quilt down there. Everything is a patchwork of fields, scattered homes and barns. So that is where my blackberry muffin came from.”
Sur Sceaf pointed out, “Those are the scattered settlements of the yeoman and many of the married fyrd members who have families and live on their allotments. Look at those alfalfa fields, beautiful dark green fodder, fields full of barley, rye, oats, and wheat.” Then turning to the east, he said, “and over there is kenaf and flax.”
“I can see the blackberry patches, and that looks to be a vineyard beyond the orchards.”
“Yes,” Sur Sceaf said “one of the Forty-Four Laws declares that there is no culture without agriculture.”
Mendaka swung all the way around scanning the entire surroundings. “Surrey, there is so much we can take from this place and apply it to the fortress we will build on the coasts.”
“Actually, Mendaka there’s been discussion on that. That’s why Sur Spear has stockpiled materials for building such a fortress on the coast. But the one problem we run into is that there will be many, many more people joining us on the coast.”
“Well, how many people live here?”
“A year ago, when I was here it was around eight thousand, but now that more refugees have arrived from the East, it is probably more like sixteen thousand people. In Witan Jewell and in my travels, I have spoken with some of the refugees who passed through here. Most are Hickoryeans from the more independent South Lands. They told me, ‘there is no god east of the Mys-Isys River anymore.’ I suspect we shall soon be joined by many people from various races and climes.”
“How could there be a god in the East? The Pitters rule everywhere. They are the anti-gods, opposed to any gods but their One.”
Trumpets blasted from the parapet on the south wall heralding the arrival of an exceedingly important dignitary.
“That is probably Lord Pyrsyrus and the fyrds. Right on time. My dear sister will be pleased at his arrival for my sake. Pyrsyrus is a known healer. Let us go down.”
“We will go down!” Mendaka said as he assisted him off the wall and down the cobblestone stairs.
By the time they reached the second level landing, Sur Sceaf was breathing hard and striving for breath. Much to his chagrin, he needed to stop and rest so that his legs wouldn’t give out. He lowered himself to the bottom step and rested with Mendaka sitting beside him. “I promised Flicka, I’d be back within the hour, but I want to at least be standing when I meet my brother again after five years.”
“I remember you talking much about him with Onamingo. It will be an honor to finally meet him.”
Syr Elf appeared at the bottom of the stairs, breathing hard with his two jaguarundis running on leash. “They sent me to find you, Sur Sceaf, but your bed was empty and Gisela was cackling like an old hen that had just lost her chick. I guessed you’d go up to the top of the wall,” he said proudly as he and the cats came to the top of the steps. “It’s where I love to sit and watch the swifts and pigeon kits. Mama said to tell you that my ma-bro, the Dark Pirate Pyr, has just arrived.”
Getting to his feet, Sur Sceaf said, “Thank you, Syr Elf.” One of the otter cats brushed against his leg, purring softly as it passed between his calves, forcing him to step over the leash. “Come Mendaka, I will introduce you to Pyrsyrus.”
Syr Elf said, “Mama says Pyrsyrus is a real pirate, not make believe.”
“That’s right,” Sur Sceaf explained as he slowly descended. “He has many of our other brothers maintaining his vast flocks of cattle and sheep, but I would say, his greatest accomplishment is indeed the dragoons of the Pyringean Pirates, a naval force without equal.”
Mendaka inquired.“Unlike my friend, Turtle Duck, I am not much aware of the affairs of the deep. Who are these Pyringean Pirates?”
“They are an elite core of sailors, skilled in crypsis, martial arts, and seamanship. Once they have passed the rigorous tests to be accepted as Pyringean, they are gifted a ring, signifying their membership in their naval corps. Pyr plus ring, signifying the ring that is bestowed upon the proven ones equals Pyr-ring-ean Pirates or the Fire Ring Pirates. They all wear the black and were developed for guerrilla attacks by land and sea, and are unmatched in both their valor and daring. In effect, my friend, they are the knights of the sea.”
The trumpets blasted once again, sending flocks of pigeons up into the blue sky in swirling kits.
Syr Elf hurried down the last few steps with the two otter cats in tow. “See, your brother has arrived. Let’s go down and meet my pirate uncle.”
“Don’t be in such a hurry, little fellow,” Mendaka joked.
Just as they reached the bottom and he looked up, Sur Sceaf was shocked to see his wife, Lana, dressed in a long green cape under which she wore a red dirndl, h
urrying toward him.
“Lana, by the Gods of Neorxanawang, I could not have hoped for a better sight!” Sur Sceaf let out.
“My lord, what in God’s holy name hath been done unto thee?” Lana exclaimed in her husky voice. “It looketh as if thou art starved. Well, a pot of goose soup will put the meat back on thy bones. How is it thou hast had to suffer all of this indignation?”
She circled him and bore his back to see his wounds. She softly touched the whip-lashes and ran her hands tenderly over his arms. “I can see I am just in time to help thee lick these wounds. It wondereth me they are not more infected.”
“I have been well cared for. That is if you can say drinking Xelph’s detoxifying poison and submitting myself to the flapping jaws of a harpy is being cared for.”
They laughed.
Syr Elf looked on in avid interest.
Sur Sceaf took her gently in his arms feeling his body and spirit melding into the warmth as he embraced her for a kiss.
“Easy on those ribs dear. I can’t take too much of a squeeze just yet.” Looking into Lana’s sparkling green eyes, he admitted, “That hug and kiss did more to heal my soul than all Xelph’s wizardry, the singing into my wounds, and the leechcraft put together. Lana, you enliven my heart to the point that I can feel the sap moving through my branches again.”
“Whoa,” Mendaka said, “I don’t need to hear about any sap moving.”
Lana turned to Mendaka, “Thou lookest none the worse for the wear, Dak. Little Doe sayeth you two behave like young bloods whenever ye are together. It seemeth she was right. Here I find my man climbing mountains and running in the streets in no more than bed robes and with the likes of cats I’ve never seen before.”
Mendaka smiled. “Your man is as fit as a chipmunk on a pile of pine nuts, now, Lana, but he came very close to hitching a ride with the Valkyries into the Other World.”
The Frightful Dance (The King of Three Bloods Book 2) Page 6
