Legends of the Saloli: Approaching Storm

by Adam Bolander

  “No,” Sunbeam said, “It’s not true. Just a legend.”

  “Then why tell it with such enthusiasm? It has nothing to do with what really happened.”

  “Blaze,” Sunbeam said to him, disappointment shining in her eyes, “There is more to storytelling than teaching the past. We tell stories to entertain each other, and to give praise to Valde Abbas. A story about our creator makes him happy, even if it isn’t true.”

  “Oh,” Blaze said, embarrassed. Stories were used as entertainment in the human world too. How could he have forgotten? Was he becoming a saloli so much that his human life wasn’t as important to him as this one? He hoped not. His mother was still in the human world, and he didn’t want to forget about her.

  <><><><><>

  “Okay, Scratch, close your eyes,” Blaze instructed. Scratch did as he was told. “Now inhale through your nose.” Again Scratch obeyed. “What do you smell?”

  “I smell. . . I don’t know. I think it smells like. . . Icefire?”

  “Good!” Blaze congratulated him, “That’s exactly what it is. You’re smelling Icefire’s scent. This is the scent wall separating Icefire’s territory from Cyclone’s.”

  “But there’s something else,” Scratch stated, “but I’ve never smelled it before.”

  “That’s Cyclone’s scent. Each tribe has a certain scent, a scent made by all the tribe saloli’s scents being combined into one. You need to memorize which scent is whose, because if a saloli from another tribe comes onto our territory, you can identify which tribe he’s from by his scent. If that happens, you must catch him. If you can, bring him back to the camp for interrogation. At the very least, you need to drive him off of our territory.”

  Fear filled Scratch’s gaze, “You mean I have to fight him?”

  “That’s part of being an Icefire saloli, Scratch. You must put your own needs behind the needs of the tribe. You must also protect Icefire in times of trouble.”

  “But- but I can’t fight!”

  “And why do you think you’re being trained?” Blaze had to resist rolling his eyes, “I’m going to teach you how.” He was upset by the look of fear on his trainee’s face, becoming increasingly convinced that Scratch was an incurable coward. He never showed any sign of bravery, but more than made up for that in fear. He seemed to be afraid of everything. Blaze wasn’t sure if there was anything he could do to help him. Shaking his head, Blaze turned and walked along the Cyclone border, motioning with his tail for Scratch to follow. As they went, Blaze pointed out a Cyclone patrol coming from the other direction. He half expected them to call for an exchange of events, as the Groundsky patrol had, but they passed by silently. Blaze decided that was best, as afraid of the other tribes as he had just made his trainee. Besides, he probably wasn’t ranked high enough to do an exchange of events without another, more experienced saloli with him.

  The two saloli continued down the Cyclone border without anything more happening. As they neared the Darkcover border, though, Blaze began to feel as if something wasn’t right. He looked around, searching for something out of place, but saw nothing that shouldn’t have been there. He perked his ears, but heard only the crunch of dead leaves under his feet, and the singing of birds in the trees high above. It wasn’t until he inhaled through his nose, taking in the now familiar scents of the forest, that he realized what was amiss. There, right on the Cyclone border, was a saloli scent. It was crossing the border, going from Icefire territory into Cyclone’s.

  It was a scent Blaze knew well.

  <><><><><>

  Goliath was ecstatic. For the past week he had been too busy dealing with his tribe to do this, but now, finally, he had the entire night free. He rushed through the forest at top speed, Mordred directly behind him. Though having known Mordred for years, it still amazed Goliath how the old, blind saloli could manage so well in the forest without his sight. If you didn’t know him, you would think his eyes were as sharp as an eagle’s. But now wasn’t the time for that kind of thinking. Now was the time for evil thoughts. Dark thoughts. And that was exactly what filled his head as he stopped before the Tree, breathing in the dank, musky smell of pure evil. There was nothing else like it in the world. It alone could invigorate him, fill him with the desire to do the things he did.

  “I see that you are still as fascinated with the tree as you were when I first showed it to you,” Mordred observed happily, ignoring the irony of what he had just said.

  “I come here as often as I can,” Goliath responded, “This place, it is what makes my life worth living.”

  “I told you that it was a wonderful place.”

  “You were wrong.” Goliath corrected him, “It is not wonderful. It is terrible. It is rotten. It is vile, wretched, and disgusting.”

  “But would you have it any other way?” A wicked grin spread across Mordred’s face.

  Goliath chuckled. “No.”

  “Come, let’s climb to the top.”

  Nodding his agreement, Goliath sunk his claws into the soft, black bark of the Tree. The yellow-green sap bubbled out from the puncture marks, coating his claws. All too soon, he and Mordred were at the top, looking down the great black hole that the trunk opened up into.

  “I can’t believe that the stories of our history do not tell of this place,” Goliath said, speaking first, “Anything containing this much evil must have attracted the attention of Valde Abbas.”

  “Ah, but they do!” Mordred cackled, “This place plays a bigger part in the histories then you could ever imagine.”

  “What? Tell me!” Goliath demanded.

  “Not now, my chief, not now. You will know when the time is right.”

  Goliath knew Mordred well enough to know that it was impossible to drag answers out of him, not to mention dangerous to try. Forcing his mind off of the subject altogether, he resumed staring into the black abyss. Hours later, though it only felt like seconds, Mordred spoke up again.

  “What is it telling you, Goliath?” he asked.

  “I have the overwhelming urge to bring someone else here,” Goliath answered

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t think of anyone besides the two of us that deserve to see this place.”

  Mordred paused for a moment, savoring the suspense, “Not even Razor?” He asked, finally.

  “That stupid failure?” Goliath asked, shocked that he would even suggest such a thing, “I would rather die than share this place with him.”

  “A failure he may be, but you cannot deny his will to do evil. His technique may be flawed, but his heart is just as black as yours.”

  “Do not insult me!” Goliath growled, though, in his head, he trusted the old saloli.

  “Perhaps he just needs a little guidance?” Mordred suggested, “A little push in the wrong direction? You can certainly be a bad influence, Goliath.”

  “Are you sure, Mordred? This place could just as easily send him over the edge. I don’t need a mad saloli wandering the forest, raving about this.”

  “If that happens, then you can kill him.” Goliath sat in silent contemplation for a few minutes, thinking about Mordred’s advice, “Bring Razor here,” the blind saloli repeated, “you will not be disappointed.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The day was bright, and the sun warmed the forest to a comfortable degree. It was a peaceful day, and the birds sang while Icefire went about their duties. Suddenly, the tranquility was broken. . .

  “Blaze! Blaze!” Smallthorn shouted, running up to his friend.

  “What is it Smallthorn?” Blaze asked, worried by the desperation in his voice.

  “Where’s Faith?”

  “She just went up her tree. Why?” But Smallthorn had already turned and was running towards Faith’s tree. Blaze followed.

  “Faith!” he shouted up at her. Worried that somebody might be hurt, she immediately came rushing down to him.

  “What is it, Smallthorn?” she asked.

  “It’s Newthorn. S
he feels sick!” Smallthorn explained as quickly as he could, “She says her stomach is upset, and she feels sore.”

  “Take me to her.”

  Smallthorn ran back to the common’s tree with Faith and Blaze in tow. Newthorn was lying on the ground beside the tree. Blaze agreed, she did look a little green. He understood his friend’s concern. In the forest, sickness was a dangerous thing. Without the help of medicine, the infection could quickly turn deadly.

  “How are you feeling, Newthorn?” Faith asked.

  “Like I’m going to throw up,” she responded, moaning softly.

  “Do you mind if I inspect you?” Newthorn shook her head. Faith began laying her front paws all over her, first on her back, then on her side, then her forehead. When she finally placed her hand on Newthorn’s stomach, she paused for almost a whole minute. Her mouth slowly stretched into a smile, and she bent down and whispered something into Newthorn’s ear. Newthorn’s face lit up in shock and surprise.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, obviously not quite believing what ever Faith had just told her.

  “Yes, I have seen this many times.” The prophet promised.

  “Then I’m really. . . really. . .”

  “Yes, dear. You really are.”

  “What?” Smallthorn asked, confused, “She really is what?”

  “Should I tell him?” Newthorn asked, still with a surprised look on her face.

  “Yes, go ahead,” Faith encouraged her.

  “Smallthorn, I’m. . . I mean you’re. . . I mean we. . . we’re going to be parents!”

  Smallthorn’s jaw dropped open, “What?” he asked.

  “Smallthorn, I’m pregnant!” A grin larger than any Blaze had ever seen spread across her face.

  For a moment, Smallthorn simply stood there, completely unsure of what to do. Then he shook his head, and beamed at his mate, “Newthorn, that’s wonderful!” he nearly shouted, “You’re going to be a mother!”

  “And you’ll be a father!” Newthorn agreed, just as happily.

  Blaze was in shock. His best friend? A father? He couldn’t comprehend it.

  “What will we name it?” Smallthorn asked, suddenly.

  Newthorn thought for a bit, “I think I like Springthorn.” She decided.

  “Good idea, I like that too,” Smallthorn agreed.

  “Why Springthorn?” Blaze asked.

  “Because he will be Smallthorn and Newthorn’s offspring,” Newthorn explained.

  “Don’t go getting so excited just yet,” Faith chuckled, “It’s still many weeks away from being born.”

  “How can I not be?” Smallthorn asked, ecstatically, “I’m going to be a father! I need to tell someone!”

  Smallthorn rubbed the side of his head with Newthorn’s and raced off. Blaze watched as he caught Rust’s attention and began explaining what was going on with more energy then he had ever seen in the small saloli before. Even more then when he had first found out he was being promoted. Blaze looked over at Newthorn, who was still laying on the ground, looking more excited then a saloli who’s just found the world’s biggest acorn.

  “Congratulations.” he told her.

  “Thank you!” she gushed, “Oh, I’m just so happy! Wait a minute. There’s still something that we need to address. Smallthorn! Come back here for a second.” Smallthorn came racing back to them.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “We need to decide on a godfather for Springthorn.”

  “How about Blaze?” Smallthorn suggested immediately.

  “What, me?” Blaze asked, surprised.

  “That’s a great idea!” Newthorn agreed, “If something should happen to us, I can’t think of any other saloli I would be happier to know was looking after our child than the hero of Icefire!”

  “Wait, godfather? What does that even mean?”

  “It means that if something happens to Smallthorn and I, something that renders us incapable of raising Springthorn, then you would take over for us,” Newthorn explained, “It really is considered an honor, and you would make us both very happy if you said yes.”

  Blaze bit his lip in uncertainty, “I, uh, well, I don’t know.”

  “You don’t want to do it?” Smallthorn asked, looking hurt.

  Hearing this, Blaze immediately made his decision, “Of course I do! It’s just that you caught me off guard. But what sort of a friend would I be if I said no? Yes, I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you Blaze!” Newthorn practically squealed in happiness.

  “Thank you,” Smallthorn repeated, “you really are a true friend.”

  <><><><><>

  “Okay, Scratch, come at me!” Blaze ordered.

  Scratch hesitated for a couple seconds, and then charged at his mentor. He leapt up at the last second, claws extended. He was too slow, though, and Blaze easily sidestepped him and gave him a light scratch in the side.

  “Ow!” Scratch complained, “That hurt!”

  “It’s punishment for your failure. Trust me, in a real battle it would have been much worse. Look, you’re not even bleeding.”

  “It still hurt,” Scratch sulked.

  “Get over it,” Blaze snapped, quickly becoming irritated with Scratch’s ceaseless complaining. “Now, get ready to do it again.”

  “But we’ve been at this all day!”

  “How do you expect to become a good fighter if you don’t work hard at it?”

  “I don’t plan on getting in any fights.” Scratch retorted.

  “You may not have a choice! We’re in a war, Scratch, and an attack could come at any time. Would you rather watch your tribe die around you than get a little hurt?”

  Scratch’s eyes filled with shame, “No,” he whispered, looking at the ground. Blaze felt his anger melt away, and sighed, “I thought you said you trusted me, Scratch.”

  “I do!” The trainee confirmed.

  “Then trust me when I say that serving your tribe will make you happier than anything else ever could. Nobody wants to die, but think of the lives you could be saving when you fight!”

  “But what if I’m never any good at it?”

  “It will take hard work, Scratch, and a lot of it. But in the end, I’m sure you’ll be an amazing fighter.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It’s something Slicer taught me. Every saloli has the potential to be a great fighter, they just don’t realize it. All you need are your instincts.”

  “Then why am I not as good as you?”

  “Because you haven’t developed them enough yet. Once you’ve improved your speed, strength, and agility, the rest will come naturally.”

  “Really?” Scratch asked, his eyes shining with sudden hope. Blaze blinked in surprise. Was it just him, or had the grass around Scratch’s paws just turned greener?

  “Yes,” he said, forcing the thought out of his mind. He was just imagining things, “But it will never happen unless you dedicate yourself and work as hard as you can. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Blaze.” Scratch confirmed.

  “Good, now get ready to come at me again.”

  His spirit restored, Scratch charged at Blaze at top speed, then, once again, leapt at him. Again Blaze sidestepped him and scratched him in the side.

  “Rule number one in fighting,” he advised his trainee, “Never use the same move twice.”

  “I’m never going to get it!” Scratch wailed, his enthusiasm demolished, “I’m the worst Icefire saloli ever!”

  “No you’re not!” Blaze admonished him, “I can think of one other that’s far worse than you.”

  Instead of cheering him up, this seemed to lower Scratch’s spirits even further. Tears welling up in his eyes, he turned and dashed out of Acorn Place. Blaze sighed. What could he do? Glancing back at where his trainee had just been standing, he gasped! The grass where Scratch had stood was now yellow and wilted. Completely dead.

  “Blaze!” Scratch’s voice came from out of the woods, “Help me!”

  B
laze dashed out of Acorn Place, following Scratch’s scent. There was another scent in the air, one that he was sure he had smelled before, but couldn’t quite place. It definitely wasn’t a saloli’s scent. He burst into a small clearing, and found Scratch crouched in the center, shivering like he was freezing.