The Scourge

by Henley, A. G.

  “I am sorry your friend was injured, but it is good news that you came across a big cat. Very good news,” Wirrim says. “The predators are returning.”

  I hope they won’t mind if I ask a few questions now. “What about the sick ones? Where do you hide when they come? The trees?”

  “Hiding is not necessary in Koolkuna,” Wirrim says. “It is protected.”

  It takes a moment for the significance of his words to sink in. A whole village protected from the Scourge? None of our stories tell of such a possibility.

  “How?” I ask.

  “As I said, lorinyas have found their way to Koolkuna through the years, and like you, they want to understand how we are protected. We find it easier to show them than to tell them. We will show you, too, when the time comes.”

  I’m not sure what he means by show me, but from his tone of voice I sense I won’t get any other answers now.

  “You and your friend may stay until he recovers. Perhaps tonight you’d like to stay on the ground, closer to him? Nerang says you are healing well.” I agree, and Wirrim addresses the group. “Will any of the anuna take in our guest?”

  Kadee speaks. “She may stay with me.”

  I’m relieved. As fascinating as the trees are, being up in them makes me queasy.

  “Then that is settled. Welcome to Koolkuna, Fennel.”

  People begin to file out, conferring in low voices. Some greet me with shy words of welcome. Kadee comes to me, and Kora skids up a moment later.

  “Thank you for taking me in,” I say to Kadee.

  “I welcome your company,” she replies. “Kora, when you two tire of exploring, bring her to my home.”

  “Fennel, do you want to meet Bega?” Kora hops up and down in excitement. “She’s waiting for us.”

  “Yes, but on one condition,” I say, my voice grave.

  “What?”

  I muss her hair. “Call me Fenn, as my friends do.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I spend the afternoon wandering around Koolkuna with Kora and Bega. The doll knows an astonishing amount about the people in the village. She tells me all about them as we pass homes and workplaces, and I’m struck by how familiar the stories sound. She could be talking about our community, with one glaring exception: at home our conversations all come around to fleshies eventually, but Kora rarely mentions them.

  I catch myself listening for the alarm calls, warnings that the Scourge is coming, as I would have at home. What Wirrim told me is still almost impossible to believe. I’m tempted to ask Kora if she knows how Koolkuna is protected, but it seems devious to interrogate a child.

  People seem friendlier after the gathering. They speak to us as we go by, calling me by name. I meet some girls who sound about my age by the storehouse. They are curious, especially about my home, and what it’s like to be Sightless. We chat for a few minutes, answering each other’s questions. But one of them, Kaiya—Kora calls her Kai—doesn’t speak, even to say hello. Bega tells me later that she keeps to herself, but the doll won’t say more. It’s uncharacteristic for Bega.

  Kora leads me to check on Peree late in the afternoon. I sit by his side, holding his hand. I long to tell him about Koolkuna: about the people and how they can live in the trees or on the ground, and most of all, how they’re protected from the Scourge. But he doesn’t stir, and I can only stay a few minutes in the heavily incensed room before I start to feel drowsy and a little sick to my stomach.

  Nerang sits outside. The smell of something—cloves?—drifts around my head. I laugh. “You could just go breathe the air in in there for a few minutes, instead of smoking out here.”

  “A good pipe is one of the pleasures of an old man,” he says. “How do you find your friend?”

  I frown. “The same.”

  “Try not to worry.” He inhales and releases a slow puff of smoke. “I hear you will stay with Kadee now? I’ll take you there. Kora was called home for her dinner.”

  We stroll through the trees while the sun sinks lower, as if sitting down to its evening meal as well. I hear the rattle of wooden dishes, and the low murmur of conversation. It sounds like home.

  “Do you have a family, Nerang?”

  He stops to empty his pipe, tapping it against a tree. I hear him crush the remains of the herbs and spices into the dry ground. Very dry, now that I think about it. I can’t remember the last time it rained.

  “A grave illness swept through the anuna years ago. Many were sick, and many died. Despite my efforts, my partner, Yindi, was among them.” His voice sounds more resigned than sad. “Her name meant ‘sun’ in our language. My son is Konol, ‘sky.’ Yindi and Konol—my sun and my sky. Konol’s grown now, a few years older than you.”

  “I’m sorry about Yindi.”

  “As am I. But like the legend of the flowers, life goes on and hope blooms again.” We walk a little farther among the trees and pause in front of what must be Kadee’s home. The door squeaks as it opens, and the aroma of cooking food greets us. “I’ve brought Fennel to you, Kadee.”

  “Would you like to stay for dinner, Nerang?”

  “Thank you, no. I need to speak with Konol before he leaves with the hunting party. There’s much to do to prepare for the Feast of Deliverance.” Then he says to me, “I’ll be checking on your friend in the morning, if you’d like to visit him again?”

  “I’ll bring her,” Kadee offers.

  “That's okay, I think I can find it myself,” I say, not wanting to create work for her.

  “After only one day?" Nerang says. "Impressive. I’m beginning to understand how you found your way through the Dark Place.”

  “Oh, Peree helped. He had torches, and we used crampberries to mark our path–”

  “I meant your tenacity, young one,” he says, and shuts the door. I turn to Kadee, smiling self-consciously after Nerang’s compliment.

  “Would you like me to show you around my home, so you know where things are?” she asks.

  I accept her offer. Her home has smooth dirt floors and wooden walls, like ours, but it’s larger. It has two rooms: a sleeping room, and the sitting area, situated around a small fire pit. I wash my hands in the basin against the wall as Kadee ladles our dinners onto plates. We take them outside to eat.

  “I hope you’ll be comfortable here,” she says, when we're settled.

  “I already am. It reminds me of home.”

  “And you miss your home, no doubt. Will you tell me about it?”

  I describe our part of the forest. I tell her about Aloe, Eland, and my friends. I tell her of the freedom of summer afternoons swimming in the water hole, my love of dancing and baking bread, the expectant silence of the caves that makes me feel they’re only quiet when no one is around to hear their hushed conversations. Conjuring my home helps me feel less homesick. The pungent scent of the greenhearts and the breeze tousling the leaves overhead almost convince me I’m there.

  “It sounds like a peaceful place,” she says.

  “It could be, without the Sc—the sick ones.” Or the Lofties, I almost say, before thinking of Peree. I take another bite instead. Leftover rabbit stew, and it’s still delicious. “So, what’s the Feast of Deliverance that Nerang mentioned?”

  “Every summer the anuna celebrate the anniversary of finding Koolkuna, and deliverance from the fate of the sick ones. The hunting party will gather enough meat for all, and we’ll harvest the first summer crops in preparation.”

  I swat at a mosquito buzzing close to my ear. “When is it?”

  “At the next full moon, and we have much to do before then, as Nerang said. Would you like to come to the gardens with me tomorrow? We can certainly use your help.”

  “I’d love to, after I check on Peree.” We laugh, because she said, “After you visit your friend, of course,” at the same time.

  We talk through the cool evening, until the mosquitos’ persistent questing drives us indoors. Kadee is a good listener, quiet, but with a surprisingly exuberant la
ugh. I like her. As I fall asleep I realize I did most of the talking; she said very little about herself.

  The incense is almost gone when I visit Peree the next morning. Nerang says the fresh air should encourage him to wake. He tells me he’ll send someone to find me when he does, so I go to the gardens with Kadee.

  I enjoy wandering through the rows, handling and sniffing each plant as we tend them. Many of the herbs and vegetables are familiar, like the carrots and potatoes in the stew; others are foreign to me. Kadee tells me their names and uses. I try the leaf of something called a turnip, and make a face at the bitter taste. She assures me the roots are delicious when cooked, and I tell her I’ll take her word for it. At one point I smell rosemary, and I can almost hear Aloe scolding Eland for throwing clods of dirt at his friends in the next row. Homesickness backhands me, leaving me off-balance the rest of the morning.

  Kora finds me in the gardens and invites me to their home for lunch. I meet her little brother, Darel, and Arika’s partner, Derain. Derain has a big booming voice. He sounds huge, but somehow he’s not intimidating. I like him right away; he reminds me of Bear. Derain, Kora, and Darel wrestle after we eat. The children giggle as their father pretends to be felled like a tree by their punches. Kora and Arika ask if I’d like to help them with the laundry duties. I agree—reluctantly—when I learn the anuna hang the wet laundry to dry up in the sunlit trees.

  We take the ascending platform, and they lead me to a wide, sunny area wedged between the triangular points of three sturdy trees. Somehow it feels safer than the narrow walkways, and I relax. Ropes crisscross the space, giving me something to hang onto. My ribs barely ache now as I raise my arms to hang clothes over the ropes to dry. Other men and women join us, sharing news about their families as they work. They steer the conversation to other topics when I ask about the sick ones, but there’s no undercurrent of fear as there is at home. I’m struck by how easily the people of Koolkuna live.

  Later, Kadee and I sit by the fire and eat our dinner. I tell her about my day, and that I’m worried I haven’t heard anything about Peree.

  “You said he’s not one of your people, that he belongs to the other group. Yet you clearly have a connection with him.”

  “I thought I’d hate him, before I met him. I wanted to hate him. Everyone despises the Lofties. But,” I struggle to put my feelings into words, “I feel different about him now, and different about the Lofties because of him.”

  “I see,” she says, in a way that tells me she understands more than I’m saying, maybe more than I know myself. It makes me want to change the subject.

  “So I’ve told you all about my family, but you haven’t mentioned yours.” I’m surprised she lives alone. She sounds younger than Aloe, but certainly old enough to have a partner, and children.

  “I did have a family once, but I . . . lost them.” She hesitates. “You see, I haven’t always—”

  The door bangs open, making us both jump.

  “What is it, Kai?” Kadee says.

  The girl speaks in a flat, clipped voice, the words spilling out like dried beans from a sack. “Nerang sent me to tell the lorinya to come quickly. Her friend is awake.”

  I hurry through the night, not waiting for Kai to guide me, trusting my sense of direction. When I reach the shelter I shove open the door without knocking. I can still smell a trace of the burning herbs.

  “Peree? Nerang, is he okay?”

  “Yes, young one, come in. I hope Kai didn’t alarm you. I wasn’t sure how long your friend would be awake. As it turns out, he’s refusing to ever sleep again until he sees you.”

  “Fenn.” Peree’s voice is raspy, but lucid. I rush over to him. My fingers flutter over his face and smooth his hair. I blink back tears of relief. He catches my hand and pulls it to his lips.

  “Well,” Nerang says with a small cough, “I’ll be outside if I’m needed.” He closes the door as he leaves.

  “How are you?” I ask, pressing my hand to Peree’s cheek.

  “Never better,” he croaks.

  I kneel next to the bed, and feel him stiffen. “Who did that to your face?”

  I sigh. “I did.”

  He touches my forehead. “You look terrible.”

  “And that’s a terrible thing to say to a girl.”

  He chuckles. “You’re really here? I’m not dreaming?”

  “Not unless I’m dreaming, too,” I say.

  He shifts his body, and sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. “I sincerely hope your dreams aren’t this painful.”

  My smile vanishes. “I’m sorry. What can I do?”

  “Nothing. Reminds me I’m still alive . . . because of you.”

  “Nerang saved your life, not me.”

  “Who is Nerang? And where the hell are we?” Peree whispers.

  “He’s an herbalist. Wait until you hear about Koolkuna, you won’t believe it. It’s protected. I don’t know how yet, but Wirrim said he’d show us soon.”

  “Back up—who are Koolkuna and Wirrim? Start at the beginning. The caves are the last thing I remember. My head feels like it’s crammed with dandelion fluff.”

  “I’ll tell you as much as I can, but we may not have much time. Nerang is big on resting.”

  I describe our short, treacherous ride in the underground river—“Part water dragon, like I said,” Peree teases—and how Kora found us. I tell him the story of the anuna. He’s as astonished as I was to hear that Koolkuna is safe from the Scourge, and that the people live wherever they choose.

  “Where are you staying, then?” he asks.

  “On the ground, at Kadee’s. I hate to admit it, but I don’t think I like being in the trees. It scares me.”

  “Something scares you? I don’t believe it.”

  “What really scared me was thinking that you weren’t going to make it,” I whisper. Tears threaten to flow again.

  “Fenn, we’re out of the caves. We’re alive. We’re okay.” He tries to push himself up, but falls back, stifling a groan.

  I wince. “I’m so sorry. I wish I’d done so many things differently. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened. You might not have been hurt at all, if it wasn’t for me.”

  He smoothes away a tear. “I didn’t know you were such a martyr. Please stop blaming yourself.”

  “Who can I blame, then?”

  “How about that Nerang guy? Let’s blame him.”

  “Peree!”

  The door opens. “I hate to interrupt, but I must change his bandages. And he needs his rest.”

  I flash a grin at Peree, and mutter, “Told you.”

  He takes my hand again. “Come back soon? I’ll need someone to show me around when I get on my feet.”

  I grimace at him. “Go easy. You’ve been unconscious for days.”

  “And I’m not going to waste any more time lying around.” He sounds so confident; I can’t help smiling again.

  I squeeze Nerang’s arm as he walks me out. “You’re wonderful, Nerang.”

  “I thought you might be surprised at how well he sounds.”

  I nudge him. “Maybe he won’t need my strength after all.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” he says, suddenly serious.

  I want to ask what he means, but he steps back inside, leaving me standing alone in the soft spotlight of the moon.

  I wake early the next morning, and slip out to check on Peree. He’s asleep, but Nerang’s there, mixing up a batch of the paste of calendula and comfrey he’s been applying to the wound. Considering all the fuss the man makes about people resting, he doesn’t seem to get much sleep himself. He promises to send for me when Peree wakes.

  Dew wets my feet as I walk back to Kadee’s. She stayed up waiting for me the night before, to hear how Peree was doing. I appreciate her concern. And she’s the only one who calls Peree by name, instead of by “your friend.”

  Kadee and I are cleaning our breakfast dishes when Kai comes again, to tell me Peree’s awake. I wonder why she’s
Nerang’s messenger. Maybe they’re related, or she’s his apprentice or something.

  “Your friend certainly has his appetite back,” Nerang says as I duck into Peree’s shelter a few minutes later. “This is thirds, is it not?”

  “You said I needed to eat to get my strength back. How else can I do it?” Peree mumbles from the corner of his mouth.

  “I said get your strength back, not make yourself sick,” Nerang says.

  “Right now I’m only sick of being an invalid. It’s time for me to get up.”

  “Are you sure you’re ready?” I ask.

  “Give yourself time,” Nerang urges.

  “I still have one good leg. The other one will have to find a way to keep up with it.” I hear him set the dish down and push himself off the bed.

  I step closer. “Peree, maybe you should–” Too late. He collapses, and shrugs away from my hands. “Will you stop being such an idiot? Let me help you!”

  I put my shoulder under his like I did in the caves, and we stagger around the shelter. I can hear his teeth grinding in pain, but he refuses to stop until we’ve made a complete circle back to the bed. After a minute of rest, he’s up again. The second time around seems a little easier for him. As we walk, I notice a few little differences, like his shirt. It’s clean, for one thing. He must have had a change of clothes. He’s too thin, but he smells really good—his familiar honeyed scent mingled with mint. Nerang probably used the same wash that he used to clean me up. I lean in a little closer, inhaling it.

  After a few more laps around the cramped room, Nerang insists Peree rest. Peree insists he rest outside. “I need some fresh air after all that incense,” he mutters.

  “Pigheaded, isn’t he?” Nerang says to me.

  “You have no idea.”

  Nerang leaves us with a warning that he’ll be back soon to wrestle Peree to bed if necessary. We sit down outside, our backs against the trunk of an impossibly wide, furrowed greenheart tree. He describes how the village looks from here.

  “Petrel would love to see this,” he says. “Those platforms they use to carry people up and down, the intricacy of their walkways—it’s spectacular.”