Stories of the Raksura: Volume One: The Falling World & The Tale of Indigo and Cloud

by Wells, Martha

  Suddenly Lua leapt to her feet and ran into the other sleeping room. Everyone stared after her, baffled. She couldn’t be afraid of the injured boy; Lua was the bravest girl in the settlement. Besides, he was clearly the one who was afraid of them.

  She reappeared almost immediately, holding her old doll, a battered collection of tied rags that Ari had given her turns ago when she had first arrived here. It hadn’t changed much since the last time Tren had seen it, except it was even more dirty and tattered. She must have been keeping it stuffed under her sleeping mat.

  Lua started toward the boy, moving slowly as if she was trying to approach a wounded animal. The boy watched her with wary mistrust. She stopped in front of him and sat on her heels; he was still taller than she was, even sitting down huddled against the doorframe. She held out the doll, pressed it against his hand until his fingers closed around it. Then she whispered, “I won’t tell.”

  The boy’s eyes widened. He looked at the doll and then at Lua. Something seemed to pass between them, something that made his shoulders slump and the tension leave his body.

  “What’s your name, little one?” Kaleb said softly. He was speaking Altanic, the trade language that everyone along the Long Road used.

  The boy hesitated, bit his lip, and said, “Moon.”

  Ari asked, “Did you leave your family, Moon?”

  Moon hesitated, so long Tren didn’t think he would answer. But then he said, “They were killed.” His grip on the doll tightened, as if it was giving him courage to trust them, and he added, “We lived in the forest. My mother, my sister and brothers.”

  “You lived in the forest? That’s—” Kaleb began, then Ari caught his sleeve and gave him a meaningful glare. Tren supposed he had been about to say it was dangerous to go near the forest, which is what Kaleb always said. Tren was pretty certain that Moon would know that already, if his family had been killed in it. Kaleb cleared his throat and instead said, “Where did this happen?”

  Moon sat up a little straighter. “Much further east.”

  “But where have you been living?” Ari asked.

  Moon frowned down at the doll. Then Lua said, “You were alone on the Long Road, following caravans?”

  Moon glanced at her, then told Kaleb, “That’s it, that’s what I was doing.”

  Tren thought Moon didn’t want to say what he had been doing, and wondered if he had been a thief. That would be exciting. He tried to catch Lua’s eye, but she was still watching Moon. Kaleb started to ask another question, but Ari said, “That’s enough for now. He needs to rest.”

  As his leg healed, Moon gradually grew more easy around them, and lost the tense look of someone who expected something terrible to happen at any moment. He was limping too badly to leave the house and yard, but he played pebble games with Melic and Klia and Lys, and helped them build miniature farms and towns out of sticks and dirt, ignoring the unspoken rule that said if you wanted to be grown-up, you didn’t play with babies. He didn’t talk much, but this didn’t seem to bother the younger children. Tren saw Kaleb watching Moon play with them, and heard him say to Ari, “He’s not a wild boy, he’s been raised by someone.”

  “You had doubts?” she asked, scrubbing briskly at the big cooking pot.

  “One or two,” he admitted. “Living in the forest, after all.”

  Ari made a derisive noise, nodding to where Lys was ordering Moon to lay the game pieces out and he was complacently obeying her. Ari said, “Not likely.”

  Moon spent the most time with Lua. In the evening they sat in the corner beside the warming hearth and talked in quiet voices, more than Moon talked to anybody else. Lua had never talked to anybody that much before either, except Tren. Moon also watched her draw, apparently fascinated by it, though he never tried to do it himself, even when she offered to share her slate.

  Watching them together, Tren felt the first stirrings of dislike. “Come down to the river,” he urged her one evening. “The fisherwoman says the mudcrabs will be out.”

  She shook her head, bending over her slate, while Moon handed her the drawing stone. “We’ll stay here.”

  Tren had gone with Sarin, not happily. Since they were much younger, Tren and Lua had always planned to marry and build a big house on the river, and be fishers, a chore they both enjoyed. Granted, sometimes they had planned to run away and be Road pirates, but age and time had suggested that that probably wouldn’t be a very good way to live.

  Lua’s promise not to tell anyone that she had given Moon her doll was wasted. Once Ari judged him well enough to venture out into the rest of the settlement, Moon kept it with him, tucked through his belt under his borrowed shirt. Any other boy who did such a thing would have been teased unmercifully and there would have been fights, but Moon was so odd and different that everything he did seemed normal for him. Also, he was taller than any other boy close to his age. Tren noticed that the older boys who might have been inclined to start trouble always seemed to think better of it, when confronted with Moon’s size, wiry strength, and direct gaze.

  Moon’s only failing was that he ate as much as Tren and Sarin put together. Despite that, Kaleb was growing pleased with him. “Boy’s got big hands and feet for his size,” he told a neighbor. “He’s going to be the tallest man in the settlement.”

  The neighbor nodded agreement. “He’ll come in handy when it’s fruit-picking season.”

  Chores did go much faster once Moon was able to help, because he didn’t seem to get tired as long as he could eat. He helped with everything, with digging the toba from the fields near the river, grinding grain so Ari could make bread, weeding root patches, carrying water, washing the clothes and blankets. The only thing he couldn’t do was help tend the sumptors. The big slow creatures didn’t like him, tending to growl and sidle whenever he came within their limited sight. The chief herder thought it was because Moon wasn’t Mirani, that the beasts must be reacting to the different way he looked. But still, with Moon around, Tren found he and the other children had more time in the late afternoon for play.

  That was when Tren really started to dislike him.

  He wasn’t a fool; he knew it was jealousy, like the jealous herder in one of Ari’s stories who lost his herd by trying to make it bigger than those his neighbors owned. He had been hearing that story and more like it for four turns, he didn’t need it spelled out any more clearly. Moon was big, strong, helpful, good to everyone, and everyone in the house liked him. He also had the added mystery of being a wild boy from the Long Road, without any of the dirty or violent habits a real wild boy might have.

  But knowing it was jealousy didn’t seem to help Tren make it go away, It just made it worse, since now he could feel guilty about being jealous.

  Tren had suffered like this for nearly a month, when Kaleb called for him and Moon to help carry a load of medicine herbs to the Long Road, where a trader wagon from another settlement was waiting for it.

  As Tren, Moon, and Kaleb carried the baskets, Kaleb said, “The herd-man told me this morning that one of the sumptor bucks was killed and gutted down by the river, near the western fringe of the forest. You two take care and stay away from there for a while. It’s not often something comes out of the forest, but when it does, it’s always bad.”

  Tren nodded glumly, but Moon said, “Not everything in the forest is bad.”

  “But it’s still dangerous.” Kaleb’s voice was stern. “You should know that better than anyone.”

  Moon looked away, and Tren saw his jaw tighten. Tren wondered if Moon would argue with Kaleb, and he felt guilty for hoping they might. But instead, Moon asked, “Why didn’t Lua come?”

  Tren simmered. It wasn’t going to take long to deliver the herbs, surely Moon could stand to be separated from Lua for that long.

  “Didn’t need anyone else to carry this, with you two along,” Kaleb answered.

  Tren slowed his steps, let Kaleb get a little way ahead, then said in a low voice, “The boys from this settleme
nt are mean to her, because she’s not all the way Mirani.” Moon had to know these things, if he was going to marry Lua as seemed inevitable at the moment.

  Moon frowned. “She isn’t?”

  Tren wasn’t surprised Moon hadn’t noticed. Lua had pointed out to him that the children with the traders and travelers from other places didn’t notice either, and didn’t tease her for it. It had occurred to Tren that Lua might prefer to live somewhere like Kish, where according to Kaleb there were lots of different kinds of people mixed together, and no one would care what Lua was. The fact that Moon would probably be happy to go there with her didn’t improve his mood any. He said, sullenly, “She’s half Mirani. The other traders don’t tease her, just these boys.”

  Moon watched him a long moment, brows knit with that thoughtful expression where you couldn’t tell if he understood or not. Then his mouth quirked in a quick smile, and he said, “Do you think they’ll tease me?”

  This time it was Tren who tightened his jaw and looked away. It was worse that Moon was nice to him, too. He said, grimly, “You’re not half anything, you’re just you.”

  Moon didn’t reply.

  They reached the Road, the high gray wall of it emerging from the heavy green forest and cutting through a grassy meadow, the edge of the settlement’s clearing. It was made of weathered stone and stood a good twenty paces high, and the top was nearly sixty paces wide.

  The Long Road made it possible for traders and travelers to get through the forest, and for the settlement to trade roots and fruit and fish for things they couldn’t make for themselves. It had been built so long ago no one remembered when or who or how. Kaleb had told them that the Road ran all the way east, to the sea which was called the Gulf of Abascene, and all the way west, to the edge of Kish. But those places were as distant as the clouds, as far as the Mirani were concerned.

  A path led to the carved stairs that climbed the Road’s side, and velvety little plants grew in the cracks between the huge stones. From here Tren could see the wagon waiting up on the Road, the four sumptors that pulled it standing patiently.

  “Better stay down here,” Kaleb reminded Moon. “You know how the beasts startle around you.”

  Moon stopped obediently at the bottom of the steps, and Tren continued up with Kaleb, his mood not improved by the fact that he was going to have to make a second trip for Moon’s basket, too.

  Kaleb greeted the adult traders, and moved around the bulk of the wagon with them to talk. The two older boys who caused the most trouble, Gavin and Nelit, were nowhere in sight. That was a small mercy.

  Tren deposited his basket and went down the stairs again for the second load. But as he put it down beside the wagon, something shoved him from behind, and he fell against the wagon bed and scraped his arm on the rough wood. He whipped around, glaring, and found himself facing Gavin and Nelit. Gavin grinned and said, “Where’s your half-breed girlfriend?”

  There were a lot of replies Tren could have made, but he was in a bad mood already, and this was all he needed. He said, “She couldn’t stand the stink of you and your brother the treeling,” and spit at Gavin’s feet.

  Gavin shoved Tren again, hard, and his back thumped against the wagon bed.

  Moon was suddenly there, right beside Tren. He must have hurtled up the steps, but he wasn’t even breathing hard. He studied Gavin, head cocked to one side. He said, “Don’t do that again.”

  “Or what?” Gavin grinned, and shoved Moon hard in the shoulder. Only Moon didn’t shove. He just stood there. He didn’t even sway backward. It was like Gavin had shoved a skinny tree instead of a skinny boy.

  Moon stepped forward, eye to eye with Gavin. “Do you really want to find out?”

  Gavin drew back, watching him with real fear. Nelit, never the brave one, had already retreated a dozen paces down the Road.

  The wagon-sumptors lowed uneasily, and from behind the wagon, Kaleb yelled, “Moon, are you up here?”

  “No,” Tren called back, urging Moon toward the stairs.

  Moon went, and Gavin, encouraged, said, “You’d better go!”

  Moon laughed, and hopped down the stairs as if nothing had happened. Then he looked at Tren’s grim face. “What’s wrong?”

  “I didn’t need your help,” Tren said through gritted teeth.

  “Did you want to get beat up?” Moon clearly didn’t see the problem. “You should have said something earlier.”

  Tren hit him in the chest. It was like hitting a rock. Moon just looked hurt, and Tren stamped off, feeling like the worst person in the settlement.

  The next day, after Kaleb had set them free from their chores, Lua said, “I want you to come to the midden with me and Moon. We want to show you something.”

  Obviously, they meant to tell him that they had planned to be married. Not immediately, of course, but in a few turns when Lua was old enough. Tren didn’t want to hear that. He said, sulkily, “We’re not supposed to go near the fringe for a while, because something killed that sumptor.”

  “That was toward the west, not the east where the midden is,” she said impatiently. “Come on.”

  Tren went, reluctantly. Moon was waiting for them at the top of the path to the midden. For some reason, he seemed almost as reluctant as Tren. “This was your idea,” Lua told him, prodding him along down the path.

  Moon shrugged and dragged his feet all the way.

  Once there, Tren and Moon, by an unspoken temporary accord, poked around through the piles, looking for anything new and interesting. There wasn’t much of a breeze, but the late afternoon sun was filtered to a cool green by the big leaves, and the usual complement of treelings squealed and squeaked high in the branches.

  “Well?” Lua folded her arms, determined to keep them from stalling any longer. “Nobody’s here.”

  “Wait.” Moon was looking toward the shadows under the thicker trees, the ones that marked the end of the fringe and the beginning of the forest. He frowned. “I smell something.”

  Of course he smelled something, they were standing in the trash heap. “It’s rotting guts,” Tren said, annoyed.

  “No, under that.”

  “How do you smell something under another smell—”

  It leapt down from a high branch, landing hard in the grass, barely twenty paces from them.

  It stood up from a crouch. It was shaped like a man, and wore rough hide clothing, but its skin looked like hardened pale leather, ridged and scarred. Its face seemed to be all staring black eyes and huge round fanged mouth. Lua screamed. Tren’s breath strangled in his throat. “It’s a Tath,” Moon said, his voice calm and tight.

  Tath. Ari told stories about Tath. They lived in the forest, they climbed trees, and they ate whatever they could catch.

  The Tath snarled and lunged toward Lua. Moon lunged for it, but in mid-motion, he changed.

  It happened fast, but not so fast there was any doubt about what happened. One moment Moon was Moon, running toward the Tath, then the air around him blurred as if he passed through a dark cloud, and then he was … something else.

  He landed between Lua and the Tath. He was taller, his shoulders broader. His skin had darkened from brown to black, a shiny black made up of tiny jewel-like scales. He had long curving claws on his hands and feet and a long tail, and a mane of spines around his head, running down between the lumpy ridges on his back.

  The Tath recoiled with a snarl, and Moon leapt on it. They rolled in the grass, snarling and fighting. Then the Tath threw Moon off, leapt to its feet, and ran right toward Tren.

  Tren turned to bolt and made it two steps before it reached him. It snatched him up and ran.

  The Tath’s arm around his chest squeezed the breath out of him, but Tren kicked and beat at its tough skin, half-blind with terror. It reached a tree and leapt ten paces up the trunk, sunk claws into the bark, and started to climb one-handed.

  Tren struggled for breath to scream. The jolting violent motion of the climb knocked his head back agai
nst the creature’s hard shoulder, and he clawed at its arm helplessly. Then he heard a vaguely familiar sound, like a giant bird flapping. Something black shot past them. The Tath stopped, its claws grasping a branch, and looked up.

  Moon perched on the trunk just above them, spines bristled, tail flicking. The ridges down his back had turned into black scaled wings, now partly extended.

  The Tath growled defiance, and Moon dropped on its head.

  Looking up into the Tath’s face, Tren saw its expression turn from anger to horror as black-bronze claws clamped onto its skull, sinking into the skin of its forehead. Moon’s spiny head whipped around, fangs sinking into the Tath’s neck. His weight jerked it off the tree, it lost its grip on Tren, and they were all tumbling toward the ground.

  Except Tren wasn’t tumbling, something had him from behind, and he was gliding down. He saw the Tath hit the roots at the base of the tree, bounce and sprawl like a broken doll. A moment later Tren dropped into soft grass. He stumbled and sat down hard, dazed.

  Lua fell to her knees beside him. “Are you all right?” she demanded breathlessly.

  He stared at her, grabbed her arm. She didn’t look hurt, just flushed and wide-eyed. He looked for Moon.

  Moon was himself again, standing beside the dead Tath, nudging it with a bare foot. He looked just like he always had, still dressed in an oversized shirt and rope-belted pants. His hair was mussed and there was a spray of dark blood across his chest and shoulder. The Tath’s blood.

  Tren stuttered, found his voice, and managed, “What are you?”

  Moon glanced at him, then dropped his gaze uneasily. “I don’t know. My family—I didn’t lie about that. We were all like this. My mother never said where we came from.” He nudged the Tath with his foot again. “I can’t find any others like us.”

  Tren turned to Lua. She didn’t look surprised. Scared, shaken, but not surprised. When she had given Moon her doll, he remembered, she had whispered, I won’t tell. “You knew!”