by Aderyn Wood
He had never been this far without an elder before. But he was a hunter, and a tracker. He could find his way back to the tree-dwells.
He focused his mind back on his prey. Iluna tripped and fell. He stalked closer.
She lay on the ground, still wet from the pool. Her breathing came hard and fast. Her eyes were closed and her lips were moving. What was she saying? Was she praying to some evil spirit?
Anton stepped closer. “I have you now, witch, and I’ll take you back for judgment.” He grabbed the reeds he had fastened to his waistband and snapped them together.
Iluna’s eyes remained closed, and still her lips moved.
“Praying to your demons won’t save you now.” Anton bent down and held her wrists together. He tied them tight, the way his father had showed him to bind a boar for carrying.
Still the girl whispered as he reached for her ankles, her voice more urgent. All around him the noise of the forest grew. It was as though the insects answered her summons. The high pitch of the cicadas reached a deafening crescendo. Anton put all his effort into resisting the temptation to put his hands over his ears and run. Mosquitoes bit into his skin so much that small trails of blood made their way down his arms and legs.
“Is this your work?” he asked as he slapped at stinging insects. “Keep it up, witch. I’ll just tell Da.”
Anton bent to pick her up, but a growl came from the forest – a deep, resonant growl. Anton lifted his head, and tried to still the pounding of his heart. He scanned the trees. A movement caught his eye, then something golden. It came toward him, a dark circle at its centre. An iris. It was an eye; a creature watched him. Only one creature had such an eye.
Mountain lion.
Anton ran for his life.
Iluna
Iluna sat on the reed mat in the cool of Izhur’s tree-dwell with a bowl of summer hazelnuts she’d collected from the forest after Anton had run away. She smiled as she remembered Zodor’s son scampering along like a frightened rabbit, mosquito bites covering his skin. She grabbed another handful of nuts and began cracking their shells with a rock, putting the small kernels into a clay bowl. Izhur would be pleased; they were his favourite.
“She needs to be punished, Izhur. That girl needs to know her place in our clan.”
She stopped her work and cocked her good ear. Zodor’s voice was quiet, making it difficult to hear. She crawled closer to the entrance.
“I think she’s well aware of her place, hunter. You and your sons take pains to remind her of her status every day. One wonders why you feel so threatened by a tamatu.”
Iluna frowned. She’d never heard Izhur call her that before. Others did, all the time. Especially Yuli and Anton. Her and Aunty Agath were both considered tamatu because they had no family – a sign of ill-luck. Every day she was reminded of her rank when she woke in the small tree-dwell in an old birch well away from the others. Tamatu. It meant lowly one, and once named as such a clan member never lost the title.
Zodor’s voice steeled; they were closer now and easier to hear. “My sons are the pride of our clan. Anton is already an able tracker. And we have secured the hand of Donnol’s daughter for him. A strong connection for the Wolf. As for Yuli, he will be our next Soragan. You have said as much yourself.”
Iluna crept to the round cutout in the mud wall of the tree-dwell and peered down. Zodor towered above the slender frame of Izhur. But the Soragan stood his ground.
“I have said he shows talent.” Izhur rubbed at a temple with his two forefingers. Iluna knew his body language like she knew the pattern of the night stars. Izhur was always rubbing his temples around Yuli.
“Whether Yuli will be our next Soragan will only be formally recognized at the coming Agria in three summers … if he proves his worth.”
Zodor’s stance altered. His shoulders rose, fists clenched.
“Still, it seems the girl has committed some sleight worth looking into. You say she assaulted your boy?” A different voice contributed to the conversation, but the thick branch of the elm blocked the view. Iluna guessed he was an elder from one of the visiting clans.
“Kicked him. Hard. In the groin,” Zodor said.
“A girl two summers younger than Anton, the great hunter-to-be, assaulted him physically?” Izhur asked.
Zodor snarled. “It was more than that. She used – her gift.”
Izhur threw up a hand. “Of course she did. Your boys are always saying that. Calling her a witch along with tamatu and Frog Face. I wonder where they get it from.”
Zodor’s nostrils flared as his big chest moved up and down with short breaths.
“Let’s question both parties, Izhur,” the third man spoke. “Then we can determine a just punishment. If one is required, of course.”
Izhur pursed his lips.
Zodor’s fists tightened.
“Would that suit you, Zodor?” The old man’s voice had a calming tone – too calming. He was using the gift to soothe the hunter. Iluna sucked her breath. Who was this person? It could only be one of the visiting Soragans.
Zodor nodded once. “I expect your judgment by evenfire.” He walked away, muscles gleaming in the hot afternoon sun.
Izhur exhaled loudly, and Iluna did the same.
“Well, let’s up and see her then.”
Iluna scampered to the back of the shelter and focused on stripping more nuts.
The grunts and groans of the old man sounded as he clambered up the steps to the tree-dwell.
Iluna turned her back to the entrance.
“Haven’t you considered caves? They’re much easier to get into.”
Izhur laughed and Iluna knew he stood behind her. “There are few caves in our lands, Belwas. So we make our own caves in the trees.”
Belwas. He was the fat Soragan from the Bear clan. He’d shared Izhur’s tree-dwell some nights. Everyone was laughing about his loud snoring.
“Iluna.” Izhur’s voice was gentle, caring.
She turned around, still holding the little clay bowl with the hazelnuts.
Izhur smiled. “Iluna, I want you to meet someone.”
Belwas puffed his way into the tree-dwell and chose a fat cushioned wolfskin to recline upon. The bough of the tree moved under his weight, swaying the way they did on windy days.
“This is Soragan Belwas.”
Belwas had big curly hair that was black and grey, a large round nose and a beard that didn’t hide a double chin that wobbled when he moved. He wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand and then smiled at Iluna and nodded before looking up to Izhur. “Some water, Izhur.”
Izhur went to the shelf and poured a cup of water from a clay jug.
“Thank you. I miss the afternoon breeze of our grasslands. And the cool caves by the river.” The old man gulped the water and held the cup out for more. “Now, let’s have a look at you, young one,” he said, as Izhur refilled his cup.
“You’re going to punish me, aren’t you?” Iluna asked quietly.
“Well, nothing wrong with her hearing, Izhur. Even if she is half deaf as you say.” He drank another gulp of the water, before putting the cup down.
Iluna took a deep breath. It wasn’t fair. Anton had been mean. She’d only protected herself. She could feel her bottom lip tremble and bit it down.
Belwas raised a finger. “Listening in on the conversations of elders is enough in itself for a punishment.”
Iluna’s eyebrows tremored. “I’m sorry, Soragan.”
“I am not going to punish you for your curiosity, child. Now, tell us what happened.”
“They were chasing me, calling me witch. Anton tried to tie me up like a boar.”
“Children are cruel indeed. But what sparked them off? Did you say something to them?”
Iluna bowed her head. “Only that Hennita isn’t his wife.”
“They have been promised, Iluna. What made you say that to Anton?” Izhur asked.
Iluna frowned. “I don’t know. It was just a feeling I had, like it
wasn’t true.”
”Come, step closer.” Belwas gestured with his hand.
Iluna looked at Izhur, who nodded. “Do what Belwas asks, Iluna. All is well.”
Swallowing, Iluna stepped forward. Belwas reached out with one fat hand and grabbed her chin in a lock.
“Look,” he said, with eyes trying to meet hers.
Iluna’s breath staggered as she looked everywhere about the tree-dwell. The circular swirls of the mud cladding, the unlit oil pots in the corner, Izhur’s carving of Goda, the nightsun god on the southern wall – her gaze focused on anything but this old man’s eyes.
Belwas tightened his grip on her chin. “I said, look!”
And Iluna did.
His eyes reminded her of the dark brown of moist soil. A growl came, and her vision shifted to another scene, deep in a forest. Something lingered. Brown fur. Claws. It paced back and forth and reared up on hind legs. A bear. It was a bear. Iluna smiled. She liked bears.
“No! She’s seen me. Stop! Stop it!” The bear spoke. Strange. She’d never heard one speak before.
“Izhur. Help me. Snap her out of it for Ona’s sake!”
“Iluna, come back.” Izhur’s voice.
A cool breeze blew and Iluna felt sleepy. She closed her eyes.
“Iluna, wake.”
Her eyes snapped open. She lay on a fur in the tree-dwell. Izhur stood close and she was comforted. With a deep breath she hoisted herself onto her elbows to see Belwas. He flinched, holding a hand over his eyes.
“You’re quite safe, Belwas. But no doubt you see what I mean?” Izhur said; a smug smile danced on his lips.
Belwas cupped two hands over his eyes. “Yes. Yes, I see. All too clearly. Her light, so bright.”
Iluna scratched her head and pulled at a knot in her hair. Izhur had often spoken about her light. Not in any great detail. She wondered why it was important.
The old man turned to her, blinking his eyes. “Leave us, Izhur. There are things I must say to Iluna alone.”
Izhur gave a quick nod and glanced at Iluna before climbing down the steps. Iluna wished he had stayed, but looked at the old man who still reclined on the cushion.
Belwas rubbed his forehead and met her gaze once more. “You saw me, child. You saw who I am.”
Iluna crinkled a brow.
“The bear,” he whispered.
She nodded.
Belwas held up a finger. “Tell no one. Not ever. Such knowledge of one’s totem is dangerous.”
Iluna blinked. “How is it dangerous?”
Belwas shook his head and his chin wobbled. “You are a curious one.” His eyes squinted as he assessed her and then he seemed to come to some decision. “If an enemy knows of your totem, they can cast injurious spells.”
“But, the enemy would have to have the gift to do that.”
Belwas nodded. “Yes.”
“And they can even injure Soragans?”
Belwas squinted again. “Most master Soragans would be able to resist such a spell. But one can never be too careful.”
Iluna frowned. “But are there really enemies out there? Where are they?” Even though Yuli and Anton were unkind bullies, she didn’t think of them as enemies.
“Iluna, there is always a possiblitiy that an enemy exists. We don’t need to live our lives in fear, but we need to be accepting of this basic fact. Now, I think I have told you too much, but you must promise not to tell anyone of what you now know of me.”
“I won’t tell,” she whispered. Izhur had told her little about totems. Only that everyone had one and it was his job to keep the knowledge of all the clan members’ totems secret.
Belwas studied her a moment longer.
Iluna focused on his big nose. It was less threatening than the brown eyes that seemed to hold her in their power.
He smiled. “I believe you.”
Iluna breathed out.
“But we still have the problem of the hunter’s son.”
“He is mean. All of them are.” Iluna bit her lip and her vision started to blur. “They called me a witch.” She bent her head and two tears splattered on the bowl of hazelnuts by her foot. She couldn’t help it. Why did they have to be so cruel?
“Yes, child. I can see how hard life is for you here. The Wolf have always been a confoundedly pugnacious clan. Still, you used your gift, yes?”
Iluna’s lips turned down into a sad smile and she nodded.
“Did you really summon a mountain lion?”
“Yes.”
Belwas frowned. “It is very dangerous, child, to summon such creatures. Their natures are difficult to control. Even for the most powerful Soragans.”
“I know. Izhur has told me not to do it without him. I am sorry.”
Belwas sighed. “You will need to pay a penance, little one. Otherwise the young wolves won’t be silent and you’ll spend all your days in more misery than is necessary. We’ll make it as easy as we can.”
Iluna sobbed. She had only tried to protect herself.
Belwas put a fat hand on her small shoulder. “Run and get Izhur for me. We’ll settle this today. Best get it all over with.”
Part III
Summer of the Sky
Iluna
Iluna blinked against the hot southern wind. Summer had only just begun, but the dead grass of the high plains already crunched under foot, and her tunic stuck to the sweat on her legs. They had been forced to climb up from the cool banks of Mittha’s River when it cut through the tall chasm of rock. Up here on the plains there was little in the way of food. Only grass and desert pear grew in the dusty ground. The desert pear was edible, just, but there was even less in the way of game. The hunters brought in the odd plain-hare and quail, but nought else, and Iluna doubted she and Aunty would receive a share of that.
Before their climb she had stuffed her satchel full with berries, roots, nuts, and sorrel leaves that grew in abundance along Mittha’s banks. Her meagre store had to last her and Aunty for the next three days. The prospect of subsisting on the salty desert pear was not appealing.
Still, the clan of the Wolf made its slow progress to Agria, the eight-day festival to celebrate the long light of summer. It would be Iluna’s first Agria and she couldn’t wait to see the days without end when all three night bodies – nightsun, moon and star – would walk the sky. There would be no night.
She’d see the other clans too – watch their art, taste their food and hear their stories. Izhur had told her about the paintings of the Lion clan and the fire tricks of the Ox; some of them could swallow a flame. Agria was also the time when the toolmakers performed the bronze magic and cast copper knives for the Soragans and the cooks, in the heat of the huge evenfire. Izhur had told her that the Grand Soragan, Xaroth, had brought the gift of bronze magic to all of Ona’s people after his return from the hermitage that had finalized his prenticeship. The knowledge of how to melt rock and sculpt bronze knives had come to him through a meditation that had lasted an entire eightnight.
And maybe there would be another girl like her, a tamatu, unwanted by her clan. Maybe she would find a friend.
Iluna had her head bent low in an attempt to stop the wind from drying her eyes. She almost stumbled into Aunty Agath who had stopped walking, her hands massaging the small of her back.
“Great Aunt?”
Agath was very old but kind; few people were kind in the Wolf. Sometimes the old woman would talk to Iluna, the way a grandmother might. With no living children or grandchildren, Agath had little more status than Iluna. As far back as Iluna could remember they’d shared a tree-dwell – whether in winter or summer lands – and they always sat next to one another during the evenfire meal, right at the back.
Agath groaned as she rubbed her back. “I am an old woman; too old for this kind of travel. They should have left me in our summer lands. Perhaps I would have gone over to the Otherworld. It wouldn’t worry me. I’d welcome it.”
“Great Aunt, do not say such things! I would
miss your stories.”
Agath laughed. “So you say, little bird. I know you like my stories, but not all enjoy the ramblings of an old woman such as me.”
Hot sand whipped up with the wind, stinging Iluna’s eyes. She squinted. “Why do you call me that, Great Aunt?”
“What, my girl?”
“Little bird. You always call me that.”
The old woman smiled. “I don’t know. You are like a little bird. And one day, I hope you take flight from this unhappy clan.”
A shout came from the front. Ulof ran toward them, his sweat making his skin shine in the midday sun. He carried nothing and wore only a loin cloth. Iluna sighed; he was probably going to tell them to move faster. That was his responsibility, running from the front to the back of the clan to ensure all were present, before doing the circuit all over again. It took days to move the clan to Ona’s Valley; almost a full cycle of Imbrit’s moon would have passed by the time they arrived for the summer solstice. They traveled over mountains and valleys, through plains and forests, loosely following the path carved out by Mittha’s river. It was Ulof’s job to ensure that no one got lost on the way. Iluna wondered if he would notice if she or Aunty went missing.
“Tamatu,” Ulof shouted and Iluna’s heart sank the way it did whenever she heard the word. Usually she only heard it from Yuli. His hatred was as obvious as the summer sky. No clouds of mercy dotted the endless colour of his contempt for her. Still, at least no one seemed to call her Frog Face anymore. Ulof had hardly said two words to Iluna her whole life, but she’d always felt uneasy around him. And his father, Ugot, seemed to dislike her too.
“Aunty Zelda is poorly. She needs help with her burden. You’re to go to her and carry her satchels until we stop for camp.” Ulof pointed toward the front of the company.
Aunty Agath spoke. “Why does Iluna have to do it? There are plenty of young men who could easily carry such a burden.”
Iluna thanked Agath silently. She had her own satchel to carry. Ordinarily it was light enough. Her meagre belongings – a clean tunic, wooden bowl and bone spoon, the light leather hide for the shelter she shared with Agath every night they made camp, and a little bone statue of the god Shephet carved by Izhur many summers past, all made a light cargo. But the extra weight of food had made it as heavy as a river rock and the heat made her weak. Another satchel would make the journey too exhausting today.
