17 Stones

by Paul Telegdi

  They burst through the last line of grass to find three boys on shore waving at a group of three in the water and further off, two more boys. There was much yelling back and forth.

  “What is it??!” Ushi demanded.

  A boy pointed to the water and said, “Sadar! Sadar!”

  “Sadar?” Ushi then remembered the Black-Pearl name for quicksand!

  “They are stuck and sinking!” The boy pointed again at the five boys stuck in the water. “Please help them!”

  Ushi ran to the edge and cautiously took a half step into the dirty water. Immediately his leg sank ankle deep into the muck underneath and he had not even put his full weight on it yet. “By thundering hooves! They are trapped!” Ushi called to Chaiko, aghast.

  Chaiko could see that for himself. All five boys were stuck, clear up to their stomachs and settling deeper. They were waving their arms frantically and calling for help, their eyes pleading with those on shore. “Help! Please help!” For an instant the shaman felt a resentful flash that life had once again put him to such a test. Then he cleared his mind.

  “Stay calm!” he ordered, his voice commanding but without any fear. “I am shaman of Standing-Rock Clan and I order you to keep very still! Now!” The boys ceased their struggling but their eyes were wide with terror at the thing pulling at them from below. It was very hard not to struggle, not to resist the pull of the cold and slimy embrace, barely covered by water. The odor of the stirred up bottom was near nauseating. “We will get you out somehow. But stay absolutely still and let us do the work!” Chaiko looked about, his mind searching at lightning speed, but found almost nothing to help him. There were no trees around, just grasses and reeds. Ushi looked helplessly at him; he could think of nothing either. Chaiko frowned with concentration, lashing his mind for some answers. There were the five of them on shore; five of them in the water. Three closer and two further off. There was only cane near about.

  Chaiko turned to Ushi. “Give me your wrap!” he ordered and ripped off his own. “All of you get undressed!” Soon he had five wraps and loincloths with which to make some kind of rope, but still much, much too short. “Get some bundles of reeds!” he yelled at the three naked boys standing around helplessly. “Now! I need it now! Move!” They ran off to pluck some reeds from their soft perch in the mud.

  Chaiko turned to Ushi commanding, “Hold this tight!” thrusting a corner of a loincloth to hold taut while he held onto the other end. Then he fished a small flint from a pouch around his neck and made a circular, spiral cut, making one length out of the piece about four times the original length. Between them, they cut the other wraps and loincloths and tied the pieces together to make a reasonable length. It would still be too short, but it gave them a farther reach. Chaiko tied a stone to one end and did a practice throw and was pleased with the result. All the while he spoke reassuringly, encouraging the boys trapped in the water. Their situation was indeed desperate. In just a short time they had sunk even more, the surface now past their upper abdomen. The boys’ eyes were yellow with terror. Chaiko knew with a sinking feeling of certainty that they could not save them all. He looked from the three to the two and made a final decision: they would try to save the nearer three, because their chance of success was higher than for the two farther out. He hated the terrible arithmetic of this choice forced upon him, but there was a good chance they could lose all. Be a leader! he commanded himself and hardened his heart for the task.

  The three boys returned with armfuls of reeds they threw upon shore. “More! Get more!” Chaiko said trying to smile at them encouragingly but achieving only a stiff grimace. To Ushi he said, “Use the long leaves and make tight bundles of them!” They set about and tied bundle after bundle, while the boys brought more.

  There was the sound of crying from the trapped boys but Chaiko concentrated on what he could do and tied another bundle. Ushi said, “We are not going to make it,” in a quiet matter-of-fact tone, forcing any emotion out of his voice. “We will not be able to save them all.”

  Chaiko nodded, not looking up, and replied, “We will save the three,” his voice was wooden too.

  They had fair number of bundles piled on shore. Chaiko checked on the boys. Most were up to mid chest. One of the two farther out was already up to his neck, silently rocking his head from side to side, tears coursing down his face. The rest were sobbing, not daring to risk any movement.

  One boy on shore lost his nerve. “You have to save them!” he cried and pleaded with Chaiko, “That is my friend out there.” He pointed to the one farthest out.

  “We will do what we can,” Chaiko said with forced calmness. “You do your part and get some more reeds and make bundles.” Mesmerized by the drama the boy did not move, staring desperately at his friend. “NOW!” Chaiko yelled and the three boys ran off again.

  Chaiko and Ushi then took the bundles, laid them on the water and stepped on them to push them firmly onto the mud bottom. They laid more next to them, then two crosswise. The shaman gingerly tested the footing: it yielded but a lot slower and gave them some time before the bundles would be swallowed entirely. Chaiko took in his hand the coil of the rope he had made.

  “Ushi, I will go out on this and get as close to them as I can,” he said almost conversationally.

  “You can’t!” Ushi protested. “The whole thing will sink and you with it!”

  “Not until we get some of them out.”

  “There w-will not b-be enough time!” Ushi stammered in his urgency. Chaiko’s safety was his responsibility.

  “Then you have to keep adding to it to give me more time, won’t you?” Chaiko stated flatly. Ushi saw his face and knowing better than to waste time arguing, he simply nodded, his heart very heavy.

  “Bring more cane,” Ushi commanded the boys, “Hurry!” Then he turned to Chaiko and said, “Let me do it then. Let me go out there!”

  Chaiko shook his head and said simply, “You are heavier than me.”

  Chaiko waded into the water and crawled onto the bundles they had laid. The reed pack yielded a little under his weight but held him out of the sucking mud. Carefully he moved out to the end, then he threw the rope they had made to the nearest boy. He missed the first grab and his movement caused him to sink a little more. His breath froze and he nearly refused to move for the second cast that landed near him. Then he grasped the rope in a tight grip, hanging on for life. Chaiko pulled the rope taut, then started to pull the weight of the boy, carefully increasing his pull gradually not to overload the bridge beneath him. As it was, the reeds settled deeper into the muck. From behind Ushi set a new bundle for Chaiko in a desperate race against the inexorable sucking of the bottomless mud.

  “Chaiko,” Ushi called, pleading with him and also warning him.

  “Get more reeds,” Chaiko hissed at him through gritted teeth; he was not going to let go and neither was the boy. It is not going to work, it crossed his mind, but then he banished the thought. “Make it work!” and he pulled harder, feeling the reeds settle under him and the watery surface lap at him mid-thigh.

  “More reeds!” Ushi yelled almost beside himself, and the three boys kept racing back and forth with armfuls of the stalks, driven by their terror. In desperate haste Ushi made bundles and cast them for Chaiko to push into the mud to give him more buoyancy and gain a few more minutes. “More reeds!”

  Ever so slowly the boy started to pull out of the muck, the mud releasing him most reluctantly. Chaiko’s face was contorted with effort, but the others could not help him; as it was he was holding the very end of the rope. The other boys trapped in the mud were yelling encouragement at the rescue effort; they could not be rescued until the boy on the rope was free. As the mud finally let go, the panic-stricken boy tried to stand and run to shore but the mud started claiming him again.

  “Lie on the water, damn you! Don’t stand up! I will pull you to safety.” Perhaps the word safety reached the boy for he quieted and Chaiko pulled him toward the shore. Tired, he tossed
his free end to Ushi who pulled the boy out of the water the rest of the way onto shore, where he lay panting and trembling with fear and exhaustion.

  Chaiko looked at the others. They had all settled in a little deeper. How much time did he have? He calculated and it did not look good. One boy was up to his neck, his eyes terror-filled. Chaiko looked at him with great sadness and compassion. There was not a thing he could do. Helpless he spread his hands to the boy, who saw the gestures and mouthed to him, please save my brother. Which was his brother? Chaiko despaired, not the one farther out, there was nothing he could do for him either; he was too far away, unreachable in the short time they had left.

  “Pass me the rope!” he yelled to Ushi, who instantly complied. Chaiko swung the rope, let go of one end and the weight of stone carried it to the next boy. The boy glommed onto it and soon Chaiko was again straining to pull him out of the mud. But the bottom resisted and would not let the boy go, who was being stretched between the desperate pull and the clammy cold restraint that encased his lower body. Nearly exhausted the boy lost his grip on the rope, nearly pitching Chaiko backward into the water. The shaman steadied himself; he too was now half under water. He jammed a reed bundle under himself and stretched out again. He coiled the rope and threw it again near the boy. He sent an urgent good-wish and marshaled his strength. Damn, you are a shaman, do this! The boy reached out and took hold of the rope with feeble hands. Chaiko wished at him again, narrowing all his concentration.

  “Your mother will die of sadness if you die here.” He forced his mind to paint pictures of the consequences and aimed them at the boy, “Your father will lose all his joy unless you help me save you. Wrap the rope around your hand, I will do the rest!” The boy roused himself and wrapped the hand as instructed. And Chaiko pulled and pulled until his joints cracked. He did not have much strength left. But it was just enough to start the boy imperceptibly moving toward the shore. Bearing the weight of both of them and good quantities of mud, Chaiko was also settling deeper and he could feel the clammy touch of the muck on the bottom. The layers of reeds had disappeared under his weight. Ushi threw two more bundles in front of him which Chaiko somehow wedged under himself. He steadied just enough to pull the boy within reach. He cast the rope back for Ushi to fish out the second boy. Half crawling, Chaiko worked himself back on shore and together they laid fresh bundles, trampling them into the mud.

  The situation on the water had worsened. The red-haired boy had his head tilted back and the water was lapping around his lips. They watched helpless but there was absolutely nothing they could do. Frantic, one of the boys almost charged into the muck and Ushi had to forcibly restrain him.

  The end came mercifully swiftly; the water flooded his mouth and the air exploded out of it as he desperately tried to cough the water out of his lungs. The surface closed over him, bubbling with escaping air. A hand appeared briefly, to sink back and the water smoothed out, calm again. Evil calm.

  They had all watched this horrible drama, uttering protests of great distress but they could do nothing to stop it. The three remaining boys were yelling anew, their terror increased by the horror of their friend and playmate gone.

  Chaiko recovered, and yelled at the boys on shore, “More reeds! NOW!” Tired as they all were, the boys ran, Ushi with them. Two of the rescued boys forced themselves up to help. Chaiko laid a new layer of reeds, as he crabbed out to the end. The reeds yielded beneath him and he was partially in the water again. Only the nearest boy’s head was above water, and a bit of his shoulders. There was resignation on his face as if he had already given up. The boy farther out was in about the same situation but his eyes blazed with anger.

  Chaiko looked at the angry boy, knowing he would not be able to get to him in time. “Son, I wish I could help you but I can’t. You are going to die and your friend here will die with you unless I can get him to help me. I need you to help me save him. Do you understand?” Chaiko was beyond pity as he watched with a focused intensity while the boy digested the words. The anger receded, replaced by the momentary confusion of pain and despair that hardened into determination.

  “What is it you want from me, shaman?” The voice was deadly flat.

  “You know him. Talk him into taking the rope I throw him and have him wrap it around his arm. He will listen to you.” Chaiko was all business, his wish-thoughts strong and aimed. Take the rope!

  The boy gathered himself, and as the last act of his short life, he focused on his friend. “Kayto, listen to me. Take the rope and wrap your hand in it. The man will pull you to safety.” The boy turned his head toward the sound but his face remained slack, uncomprehending. Chaiko threw the rope and although it landed within easy reach of the boy, he made no move for it. It lay on the surface, not yet waterlogged.

  “Kayto! Listen to me! Take the rope! Wrap it around your hand! Do this for me!” There was so much urgency in the plea… but Kayto just blinked, confused.

  “Talk to him. Tell him something you two shared,” Chaiko instructed.

  “Kayto remember how we went picking blueberries and were surprised by a bear. Remember how we ran away as he chased after us and pretty near caught us. Remember how good it felt afterwards? To laugh with great relief? To dare to live after that?” His voice broke there, but he quickly gathered himself. “Kayto I am dying here. I need you to do this thing for me. Please save yourself. All you need to do is to reach out and grab the rope. Please!”

  The arm moved a little, then tentatively it reached out for the rope, but paused not knowing what to do with it.

  “Wrap it around your hand, Kayto. Wrap it around your hand!” Slowly the boy did as he was told.

  Casting off all caution, Chaiko pulled with all his strength. The reeds swayed dangerously beneath him. The boy groaned as he was stretched in this horrible tug of war. The bundles settled deeper under Chaiko and water lapped at him, but still he pulled. “More reeds!” Ushi was piling all they had and he was crying for more reeds. It seemed that because the boy wasn’t fighting it, the mud let go much more easily. A good thing, for Chaiko was settling deeper in the water, and only his head was above it now. He pulled, every muscle of his body straining with the effort. Agonizingly slowly the boy was pulled free, and Chaiko hurried it, pulling even as his mouth sank beneath the surface. He filled his lungs before his nose was covered completely, leaving only his eyes above to see the boy coming nearer. On one breath he desperately hauled in the boy and with his lungs bursting, passed him back. Then Ushi was beside him, adding more reeds underfoot, helping to pull. It was a race, a dangerous race. The three of them could easily perish within reach of the shore. Ushi then threw the rope to the boys on shore and they pulled their friend to safety the rest of the way. Ushi seized Chaiko by the hair and lifted his head out of the water. Chaiko sputtered, trying to draw in air and at the same time cough up the water he had swallowed. Ushi threw himself toward shore, dragging the shaman after him. There was just enough buoyancy left in the reeds to help them reach shore.

  Safe on firm ground, they turned to look at the last boy still in the water, chin now resting on the surface. “What’s his name?” Chaiko asked softly.

  “Boyar,” one of the boys said, his voice trembling.

  “Thank you Boyar. You did a very brave thing. Kayto will remember and every time I think of courage I will think of you.” The boy simply nodded; what was there left to say? Not enough time for anything. A cloud passed across his face, sadness and regret perhaps. In his short life, what could he have to be regretful about? Chaiko, overcome with emotions, asked himself stupidly. For the life he did not have! Filled with grief they watched as Boyar settled into the murky water.

  Naked and dirty the seven of them cried. Chaiko was beating his chest with his fist, grieving to lose so much courage. Great sobs racked him as he berated himself, I should have been able to save them all. You who think yourself so smart and wise, why did you not save them all? He collapsed and buried his head in his arms, inconsolable. Yo
u chose three to save and you chose two to die! But who gave you the right to make such choices? Poor Boyar! Poor... he did not even know the other boy’s name. His whole frame shook as convulsion after convulsion hit him. His whole insides were churned up, quaking. “No!” This will not end here! No! Not like this! But how could he stop it? There had to be a way. Bogan help me! his soul cried, his eyes desperately roving over the shore but finding only reeds. Well, then reeds it will have to be, the thought came into his mind.

  “Quick, Ushi, make bundles again! Hurry!” Ushi looked at him uncomprehending. They did not have the time to build a bridge all the way out there, could Chaiko not see that? But Chaiko kicked him with the wooden leg. “Damn it! Do as I say!” To the boys he yelled, “More reeds!” Feverishly he made a tight bundle, secured with cane fronds. Why had he not thought of this sooner? It might just work.

  Chaiko picked up the bundle, went out on the reed bridge as far as he dared then threw the bundle to Boyar. “Hold onto it!” The boy reached out carefully, grabbed the bundle and held it tight. Ushi passed him a new bundle and this too Chaiko threw out to the boy. Then another and Boyar had three to hold onto.

  “I think that will hold him up a while. At least keep him from sinking further.”

  Ushi tested the buoyancy of the reeds; they were green but still had quite a lift. But now what? The boy could not pull himself from the mud without some assistance.

  “More reeds!” Chaiko yelled. “More reeds!”

  Exhausted as they were the six boys obeyed, running naked to pluck more. Chaiko made more tight batches of reeds, then tied the bundles together. “We will make a raft,” he explained to Ushi. The trader had to think about it, visualize a raft big enough to take a person out, big enough to bear the weight of the boy and the resistance of the mud. It might work; for the first time he had a glimmer of hope. Leave it to the shaman to come up with these ideas when needed.