by A. D. Green
“Your path will reveal itself. The time to seek it is not now. But come, there is more to your tale yet. How did three urak become one and how did you escape?”
M’rika glanced at Darion and the bear swung its head around fixing him with a stare. “Perhaps it is a man’s story to tell from here.”
Darion glanced at M’rika, who gave a tiny nod of encouragement.
“Okay, but forgive me for asking,” he addressed the bear. “I don’t know how to say your name. It’s not my wish to cause offense.”
Rawrdredtigkah looked at Darion, unmoved. “Man has no patience or understanding. Your needs are shallow.” The bear looked down as M’rika placed a hand on her flank. After a brief moment Rawrdredtigkah turned back. “My name is pronounced Raw-dred-tig-ka. But if that troubles you, you may call me Rawr.” Darion tried the name out several times in his head.
“Thank you Rawr-dred-tigah?” He looked between the bear and ilf, a hint of a smile from M’rika, nothing from the bear. He pushed on.
“I came across Grold,” the bear rumbled, “-tigkah.” He recovered. “My daughter Nihm and I were returning to our homestead when we found him. An urak arrow to the chest was mortal and would have killed him eventually, but the death blow was to his neck. They mutilated him, cut his ears off, I suspect as trophies.” M’rika closed her eyes and the great bear growled and looked at M’rika briefly at this news. Darion continued.
“I took my daughter home and returned to track the urak to see what they are doing here and how much of a threat they pose to me and my people. I’ve never seen them this side of the Torns before,” Darion explained.
“That is because man is quick to forget. Please continue,” Rawrdredtigkah said.
Darion explained how he tracked them north; the fight at the urak camp and their subsequent flight to the river. Having been trained by the Order and being a woodsman and hunter he had an eye and attention to detail and delivered his tale succinctly and without embellishment. M’rika interjected in several places to elaborate on events from her perspective.
“So you mean to find my son M’rika?” the great bear asked shrewdly after they had finished their account.
“Yes,” M’rika replied.
“I will accompany you,” Rawrdredtigkah responded.
“I will likely be in much danger; I would not have your death on my hands as well great mother,” M’rika said, her voice tinged with bitterness.
“You have so much still to learn ilf child. I will forgive your rudeness and put it down to grief,” the bear responded.
That should have been the end of matters but R’ell returned, walking cautiously into camp, and argued against their cause.
“K’raal D’ukastille bade me bring you to him safely M’rika.”
“Your K’raal, my brother, does not command me R’ell. I do as I must,” M’rika retorted. Seeing Rawrdredtigkah was intent on going and would not discuss the matter with him R’ell was left with little choice. He passed the word to break camp. They were headed to the Ford at Illgathnack.
They were soon tracking south following the path of the river, keeping far enough into the forest to be hidden from its east bank.
They moved silently for the most part, Darion rarely seeing more than three or four ilf at a time; though he had the feeling many more surrounded them. Rawrdredtigkah, M’rika and R’ell were always close by. Occasionally R’ell’s raven, Bezal would fly to him and fly off again, sometimes rewarded with a bit of meat.
The forest was full of high trees taotoa, ronu and the massive kaorak. Dense undergrowth stretched between them but the ilf found a myriad of animal trails to follow and progress was good.
They stopped briefly at high sun, a score of ilf gathering in a glade to eat and rest. The ilfanum ignored Darion for the most part with some seeming hostile. None engaged him in talk except M’rika and Ruith. R’ell had no time for rest and was busy organising ilf, several heading out without break into the forest to scout and range ahead.
Darion for his part was grateful for the break. He’d taken several knocks over the past few days and was weary still from the brief flight and battle of the day before. Ruith approached handing him a hard flat cake. It was delicious, sweet with some nuts and fruit mixed through it that Darion couldn’t identify. Surprisingly filling it was gone all too soon.
Darion had watched M’rika whilst he ate. She sat beside the bear speaking in hushed tones. She looked better, seemed more vibrant to Darion than before, but despite this there was still an underlying brittleness about her. She made no attempt to talk to the few ilf that were close by and none approached her, not even R’ell.
Darion considered her. She had moved as well as the rest of them that morning and the unhealthy lustre to her leaf skin had faded. He wondered whether it was Ruith’s healing, Rawr’s talk earlier or just her natural resilience that accounted for it. Standing, knee joints and thighs protesting, Darion brushed the crumbs off himself and walked over to where she sat.
“Are you well my lady?”
She had watched his approach. The bear appeared to be resting, but its ears twitched in every direction it seemed and Darion was not fooled into thinking it asleep or unaware of him.
M’rika rose to her feet. “I am feeling much improved. Thank you for what you did yesterday. We have not had the chance to talk about what happened and we must, soon. Now is not the time,” she looked at the dozen or so ilf in view, “nor the place. Suffice to say Darion Castell I owe a debt.”
“You owe me nothing lady. I did what was right,” Darion said.
M’rika smiled. “By our custom I owe you a debt. Please sit.” She indicated the floor and crouched back down on her haunches. Darion paused before joining her, the bear uncomfortably close.
“The ilfanum are a proud race and by our custom this is a matter of honour. To save a life means esteem and obligation in equal measure for both. In truth, you saved my life several times, four by my reckoning and all within a turning of the sun. A big obligation,” M’rika stated this last whilst staring at him. Her intensity and large brown black alien eyes were discomforting. He broke her gaze.
“You saved me on the River’s edge so we owe each other nothing,” Darion said, “excepting, maybe thanks and an ale or two in better times. That is one of our customs.” He tried a grin to lighten the mood but to no avail, she continued as if he’d not spoken.
“This is a difficult time,” M’rika persisted. “I have lost my bond mate Grold and all I want is oblivion. But I do not have that and nor can I seek it. Now I have a debt to repay. We will talk later but know you may ask anything of me and I will do all that I can to help.”
Darion fidgeted unsettled not knowing what to say. Every time he opened his mouth things got more complicated. Thinking of Marron and Nihm he locked eyes with M’rika’s. “All I want my lady is to get back to my family.”
M’rika nodded and the bear rumbled next to him making him jump. “Manling speaks well, but all things happen in their proper time. Now it is time to move.”
R’ell strode into camp at that moment signalling to break camp as if to make the bear's point for her.
They left the sound of the Fossa behind as it ran away to the east. R’ell explained it would be a turn and a half travelling south before they would hear its voice again. A hard pace was set for the rest of that day and it was well after dark before they set camp. Darion had been too weary to do anything except eat, drink and sleep.
The following dawn Darion woke stiff and sore but feeling stronger. He kept to himself avoiding M’rika, not wanting any more uncomfortable conversations. It was still dark when they set off again.
Running through the forest with ilf, probably the first man in a score of generations to do so, had been both thrilling and exhilarating but the novelty of it had worn off the day before. Instead his mind turned to Marron and Nihm. They should be in Thorsten by now. He twisted the heart ring on his finger, its warmth a comfort. He thought on the urak, t
he threat was real now he’d been chased by a horde of them. There were still many unknowns but considering what he did know things looked grim. The River’s wasn’t prepared for urak of that he was sure.
The travel was harder than before, the ground rising and falling, becoming hillier. Under the forest canopy it was easy to get disoriented and as skilled a woodsman as he was Darion was soon lost. The ilf though never faltered, always choosing the right tracks to follow avoiding the ravines and gullies that sprang up.
Legs aching, lungs burning, Darion focused on the trail ahead. It was mid-afternoon as he reckoned it when a halt was called. The light would start fading in the next hour, a bit early to stop. He saw R’ell up ahead in discussion with a group of ilf. Bezal his raven sat on his shoulder and R’ell had his head slightly canted as if listening to the bird.
M’rika walked ahead of Darion with Rawrdredtigkah at her side. With a caw the raven flew from R’ell to the low branches of a Ronu tree at their approach.
R’ell gave a call, mimicking the sound of a wood owl and, moments later, ilf appeared from the surrounding forest. In all about sixty gathered, far more than the score Darion had camped with the night before. R’ell spoke.
“Scouts report a band of urak at the ford of Illgathnack. I sent Bezal for a closer look and they have crossed to the west bank and into Da’Mari. They control both sides of the river. Bezal is not so good with his counting,” he stated looking at his raven, who gave a caw and flap of his wings from where he perched. “But as he reckons it, there are many of them.”
There was an angry murmur from the gathered ilf at his words and R’ell held a hand up to still them.
“They trespass and our laws are clear. They must be killed and removed from Da’Mari. Scouts are already observing their positions and will report back to me soon.”
The ilf nodded their agreement.
“Rest up, eat, drink and prepare your blades. We move when night falls.”
Chapter 16
: Thorsten Market
Nihm awoke the instant the door to her room cracked open. Marron had finally gotten back from seeing Lord Bouchemeax, the Black Crow. She liked the name Black Crow. She had seen him once when they came to trade, looking gallant and stern on a large black destrier with a dozen of his crows clattering along behind, heading to who knew where.
“So how’d it go?” Nihm asked.
“Better than expected. Lord Richard seems competent and didn’t dismiss me out of hand as I feared he might. Due in large part to Anders I think.”
Marron filled Nihm in briefly on the meeting.
“Maybe Captain Forstandt will find Da heading to Thorsten,” Nihm said.
“Let’s hope so.”
“And the Red Priest, Zoller, what did you make of him?”
“Not what I expected. He was insightful in a cunning sort of way. He strikes me as a dangerous man,” Marron said.
“I thought all Red Priests were dangerous; especially for the Order,” Nihm replied.
“Hush child,” Marron said, “it’s dangerous to talk of the Order here.” Nihm frowned. “Yes, even here Nihm; walls have ears as the saying goes and you never know who might be listening.”
“Sorry,” Nihm mumbled.
“You’re right though, all Red Priests are dangerous, so how can I be clearer,” she mused. “In the forest what creatures are you wary of?”
“Aggh really? You sound like Da about to give me a lecture,” Nihm grumbled. Infuriatingly, Marron just stared waiting for an answer. “Okay fine, you have forest bears, panthers although I ain’t never seen one of those, wild boar, wolves, stag depending on the season...” She trailed off as Marron held her hand up interrupting her.
“It’s haven’t ever, not ain’t never,” Marron corrected. “Now, which is more dangerous a panther or a wild boar?”
“Panther of course,” Nihm said.
“But a boar can kill just as well. Why choose the panther?”
Nihm sighed. “Now you really do sound like Da, I’m not a child.”
Marron waited.
Nihm sighed, “A boar is dangerous if you stray where you don’t belong, or if you surprise it. So if you get attacked it’s usually because you’ve done something dumb.”
“Okay good, I’ll try and remember not to be dumb in the forest,” Marron retorted.
“Okay, I understand the point you’re making. So Zoller is a panther, cunning and intelligent, a hunter,” Nihm finished.
“That’s a good example and makes my point well. But remember the panther hunts when it needs to eat. The Red Priests hunt because they fear any that oppose their religion or point of view. Zoller though, I suspect, hunts for the power or pleasure of it.”
Marron filled her in then on what Anders had told her of Thorsten, the Red Priests and the fracas outside the audience room with Mortim, the other Priest.
“There, you know all that happened, now get yourself to sleep. We have a busy day on the morrow.”
Nihm turned on her back and closed her eyes. Thoughts of her Da lay heavy on her mind and, tired as she was it was a while before she drifted off. When finally she did, Nihm dreamt of him, running through a forest of tall trees.
Nihm awoke to a sound, a whisper. She cracked her eyes open. It was still night and the room was almost pitch black. Nihm detected a faint nimbus of light; curious she turned to it and could just make out her mother’s silhouette as she sat perched on the edge of her bed, hunched over.
A strange chill was in the air. Nihm could feel it on her cheeks and arm. Then there came another sound, a key turning in a lock. Nihm was intrigued. The lock was to the trunk Marron had brought in from the cart. What else could it be? She had seen the trunk before at their homestead but her Ma had never shown her what it contained even though she’d hectored her about it. Nihm was wide awake now, her eyes adjusted to the low light.
After a moment Marron sat up, her arms moving as she played with whatever she’d taken from her trunk. There was a soft click and a pop, then nothing.
Marron sat still as a post for what seemed an age to Nihm who started to wonder if maybe she’d fallen asleep. While Nihm waited, watching, she noticed the soft back light to Marron, faint as it was, did not move or flicker. It was constant. Something piqued her interest about it but she couldn’t puzzle it out.
Marron moved then, nothing much, just an arm. Then a chink and snap. She bent over and a moment later Nihm heard the soft thump of the chest closing and a key turning in its lock. Then the whisper came again and the light went out. Nihm realised then what it was she found so odd about the light; she’d not smelt any wick smoke or candle wax. There was a rustle of bed covers.
“Go to sleep Nihm. I can hear you thinking from over here,” Marron said. Her voice was loud in the darkness and it made Nihm jump.
Turning over, resolving to puzzle out what she had seen and heard, Nihm promptly fell asleep.
Nihm was bored. They had taken breakfast downstairs; fresh baked bread and honey with fruit and hot cha to wash it down with. Marron had disappeared to talk to Viv the landlady about selling their goods leaving Nihm swirling the dregs of her cha around. They only came to Thorsten two sometimes three times a year and Nihm was itching to get out and see the town, to experience the hustle of people crowding its streets. She loved the noise and the vibrancy of the place, yet here she was stuck in the inn waiting.
“So what plans ya got fer today.”
Nihm started, dropping her empty cha cup with a clatter to the tabletop. It was Morten, she blushed.
“Sorry didn’t mean to make ya jump none,” Morten said.
“You didn’t make me jump,” Nihm retorted, “Big ox like you, I heard you coming from the next room.”
“Sure looked like you jumped.” Morten grinned, his green eyes bright with amusement. “I’m sure if ya had any cha left in that cup you’d be wearing it.” He held his hands up at her indignant look. “Let me try agin. Good morning to ya Nihm, how are you this fine da
y?”
Frowning up at him and his easy grin Nihm couldn’t stay mad. “Sorry Mort, I’m a grump in the morning. I’m fine thanks. How’re you?”
“I’m also fine, thanks fer asking good lady. I’m heading to market and was wonderin’ if ya’d like to join me.”
“I’m heading there myself, with Ma,” Nihm said, her eyes flicking to Marron as she walked up behind Morten.
“What a splendid idea. Since we’re all headed the same way an extra pair of hands would be most useful,” Marron said.
Morten jumped and Nihm couldn’t suppress a wicked grin. “Snuck up on you pretty good, eh Mort?”
Recovering quickly, Morten turned and sketched a mock bow. “It’d be my pleasure my lady.”
“Good, Viv says we can have you till noon,” Marron said. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind taking your pleasure out back and getting the ponies hitched, that would be a great start.”
“Aye its good ta sees you ladies again,” Morten exclaimed. “You should come to town more often, brighten my day up no end.” Morten doffed an imaginary cap and sauntered out the back door, whistling as he went.
Marron finished up her breakfast before they both joined Morten in the back yard. He already had the cart pulled out and was hitching one of the ponies in place. With the three of them, the work went quickly and the cart was soon packed with a selection of goods. Vic popped out to see them off and give some last minute instructions to Morten.
The dogs, shut away in the stables, whined in protest at all the activity. Nihm had taken them out before breakfast and let them have the run of the yard. It wasn’t much but it would have to do since Marron refused to take them to market.
“Folk don’t always look kindly on it if you bring dogs with you,” she said. “We want a good price. One look at our lovely brutes is likely to scare half the customers away.”
There was room for three on the cart's bench seat but it was a tight squeeze, Morten was broad shouldered and gangly. He perched on the outside with Nihm in the middle and she was uncomfortably aware of the warmth of his thigh against her own.
