What if I lose? Am I to be eaten by these starving giants? I won’t make much of a meal.
Riceros followed everyone back and forth three more times and watched three more challengers die. The Queen had a smug look of satisfaction as her exhausted gentry carried her back to the castle. Riceros noticed that every time a contestant stepped up to the white line, the Queen would move to the edge of her seat. Once the arrow missed, a crooked smile came over her face, and she eased back in the chair.
Riceros faced numerous challenges before he could even enter the contest. He didn’t have a longbow or arrows. He didn’t have food or money. Riceros looked at his black board for answers, but it remained blank. The sun started to set and Riceros curled up under an oak tree and fell asleep.
The next morning, he looked for food around the island. He didn’t have any luck and the boy accidentally found himself near the Bigwuns pen. He was on the north end, farthest from the Queen’s castle. He assumed he would have to go to the castle surroundings and beg for food. He started to leave when a deep and heavy voice slowly rang out, “Riss—ah—roce, Ric—e—ros.”
He looked to his right and saw an enormous brown eye in the opening between the stakes. The mouth started to move and spoke in the common tongue, “I am here to help you and you are here to help all the Bigwuns. Come closer so I don’t have to talk so loud. The guards do come around this side sometimes.” Riceros moved closer while still maintaining a safe distance. The one-eyed giant spoke again, “My name is Dioneer. I will tell you where to find the materials on this island to craft an exemplary longbow. I can also tell you where to find food. You bring these materials to me and I will make you a longbow worthy of releasing the Bigwuns. You must also study the contestants to figure out why the arrow always strikes one of the swords and doesn’t make it to the target. We have been locked up too long and it seems fitting a tiny man such as yourself would be sent to free us.”
Riceros just stared at the man’s eye and digested the information. He assumed Dioneer would soon wonder why he wouldn’t talk. Without his quill for the black board, he couldn’t communicate with the gentle giant and was pretty certain Dioneer couldn’t read. Riceros could only see a small section of the man through the opening but the man looked desperate. He told Riceros exactly where to find the yew wood and other materials for the bow and arrows.
First, Riceros stopped at the apple tree which appeared to kiss the sky and ate four apples before setting out to find the different items. The island of Heldoor wasn’t a very big land mass but Riceros got lost a few times before finding his way around the new terrain. Being alone made the eleven-year-old think about his family, but he thought more about the mystery Brehan had alluded to. He missed the family he had grown up with, and realized he might very well never see them again. In the four days it took him to find the longbow and arrow essentials, his mind wondered about a multitude of things. Giving up was never one of those thoughts. A touch of self-doubt had crept in but Riceros squashed it like a pesky bug.
He finally gathered everything and went back to the north side of the pen. Dioneer greeted him and Riceros carefully passed the materials over. “This is perfect. Come over to this post here so I can mark your height to make sure the size of the longbow is suited for your accuracy,” Dioneer said. Riceros hesitated. “Look, if I wanted to kill and eat someone, I would pick a bigger prey.”
Riceros hesitantly walked up to the pen, and the biggest hand and arm he had ever seen emerged from the opening. The sight frightened the boy, but he marched up to the post. The Cyclops put his hand flat along the top of Riceros’ head and marked his height on the post. His heart calmed down a bit as he walked up to the contest area to witness the next three challengers. Three losers created delight for the Queen and a quick snack for the starving Bigwuns. Riceros thought he might have noticed the tragic flaw in every contestant’s plan.
Two days later, Dioneer crafted a longbow constructed of yew for the bow stave and used hemp for the string. He instructed Riceros to use the un-fletched arrows he had made to capture some of the feathered occupants of the island. Dioneer told Riceros he was going to make the arrows with six fletchings. He insisted it would make the arrow fly straighter.
Riceros had a successful hunt and brought back the turkeys for the fletchings. He spent the next few days practicing in the woods and feeling out the new weapon. By the following afternoon, Riceros thought he had mastered the sights of the bow and went to register for the contest.
He approached the bottom of the castle steps and found an instant problem. In his haste to register, he forgot he couldn’t talk to the guards. He walked up, undaunted, and made a motion like he was drawing a bow. “Oh, piss off, little boy, or is you a gal with them pretty locks?” the big man taunted. Riceros indicated with his fingers in front of his mouth that his tongue had been cut out. The boy then walked over to the sign-up paper on the guard post. He signed his name and looked defiantly at the two guards. “Do you really think we are gonna let you in the contest? You wouldn’t even make a toothpick for one of the clops. The Queen wouldn’t want you wasting her time,” the guard told him.
Queen Hilda descended the steps and overheard the end of the one-sided conversation. She spoke in a raspy voice, “I shall speak for myself on the matter. Everyone who can put words together says I am a cruel Queen. Do you think I am cruel, boy?” Riceros quickly shook his head and the old lady continued, “If a boy wants to die, why, I will let him die. Now that I grant wishes to children, how can anyone possibly say I am cruel?” she cackled mirthlessly.
The angered guard looked down at Riceros and said, “Five days from now. Mid-day. If you’re a moment late, you forfeit and will be fed to the clops. And good luck, littl’ gal,” the guard said, following it up with a sinister laugh.
EMILIA
Emilia clutched onto Ali-Samuel even harder. He refused to tell her where they were. The savages chanted, “HI STO MAN,” but it sounded like, “EE STO MAH,” to the former queen. The dark-skinned people in loincloths and light white dresses danced around her boat as it moved along the small inlet. Ali-Samuel had told her this was the safest place for them, but she was scared out of her wits by the locals. Emilia was also anxious because the old man with the facial scar had followed them onto every boat. The green waters of the sea faded into a stream of pure blue that gleamed in the sunlight. Green plains were revealed behind the horde of natives who danced to the slow beat of a few bison skin drums.
Some natives had black face paint and piercings in different areas of the face, nose and ears. Most of the men had black ash around their entire eyes, covering the eyebrows. She saw black string necklaces with leather pouches dangling around some of their chests. The suspicious-looking old man sat in the end of the boat with his hood covering his face.
Emilia craved excitement in her life but these people looked like they wanted to kill. She didn’t want to take ten ships to get to a place where she would die at the hands of barbarians. Ali-Samuel had become more distant as the trip progressed but for some reason he didn’t look worried about the crazed looks on the natives.
The inlet funneled them into a large lake with hundreds of boats anchored along the shore. They floated in to the bank and threw out the rope of the small twenty-man boat. The natives gathered it in and the former queen thought they would tear her to shreds. Emilia tasted her heart in her throat. She looked at Ali-Samuel who seemed unaffected by the madness. He got out of the boat and helped Emilia out and into the crowd. The people rubbed her spikey head. The people hopped from one leg to the other and chanted, “HI STO MAN.”
Without warning, everyone dropped to their knees and put their foreheads against the earth. Emilia turned around to see the old man. He had removed his hood when he got off the boat.
He walked by Emilia and as he passed the locals, they stood back up. She realized they revered the scar-faced man. She followed Ali-Samuel who trailed the old man through an inclined grassy patch of land and into
a small village of wooden housing.
“Is she here?” the old man asked someone with pale skin who must have been from the western world. A gorgeous young native ran up to the old man and gave him a kiss and an extended hug. Emilia followed Ali-Samuel as he walked toward the couple.
“Allow me to present my father, Ali-Steven Wamhoff,” Ali-Samuel announced. Emilia was taken aback. She couldn’t believe they had been following his father and Ali-Samuel had made it seem the other way around. He had never given any hint of this. Anger pecked at her heartstrings like vultures on a corpse.
“My pleasure, Emilia Wamhoff.” She looked down in embarrassment. “ I wish to be more presentable in the future. I apologize for my hideous looks right now,” she said and lowered her head again.
“You were married to my brother all this time and somehow you survived his clumsiness.” The hardened looking Ali-Steven winced in pain. “May I present my wife, Pariah.”
The woman bowed her head to Emilia, who had forgotten a crown no longer rested upon her head, only an uneven yard of brown grass. No one owed her greeting courtesies in this foreign land all the way across the Sea of Green. “Emi Wam…hoff, I am pleasure,” Pariah replied with a line which seemed rehearsed in the common tongue. The language didn’t seem very common to the smiling young woman. Ali-Steven addressed Ali-Samuel, “Take her up to base. Get a good meal and some new rags.” He turned his attention to Emilia, “Pariah will be up to help you find something.” “Thank you kindly,” Emilia said as she forced a smile.
The two walked up a slight hill with huge mossy tree forests on either side of this housing area and a dirt street down the middle. Wooden structures lined both sides of the road. The humongous green trunked trees spread over the street keeping the area cool. Sunlight sprinkled through the small openings and hit the former queen’s eyes. Emilia saw that there was no one around and snapped, “You knew the whole time. The whole time and you left me in the dark. If you cannot trust me then why am I here?”
“I couldn’t possibly tell you. If, for even just one little, tiny moment you had slipped up and mentioned a word, we would be dead. My father and I are war conquerors. We’ve campaigned in too many places. We aren’t much welcomed around the world. Any man trying to make a name for himself would revel in taking either of our heads to the Emperor of let’s say, Teredaz, for a handsome reward purse. I wanted to tell you dozens of times until I realized if I could barely keep it a secret, how could I ask you to hold your tongue the entire trip? It was unfair to you and I knew it. And that’s as true as a summer day is long,” he smiled.
This was the first time in days he had shown any affection toward Emilia. There had been barely a warm look during that span but suddenly the problem and her anger disappeared. Ali-Samuel always had a way of explaining matters that made Emilia feel the knight put her safety first in a chivalric manner. He leaned over and sealed it with a light kiss. Emilia’s fiery irritation flickered and fled quicker than it arrived as they continued up the soft dirt road. The humidity rippled off her face as she walked through the thick, steamy air. Emilia looked at her sweating lover. “Where in all the seven hells are we?” she asked. “Histomanji.” She looked at him strangely, “And your father is their leader?”
“Yes and no. He is believed by these people to be the son of their God who was sent from the heavens to help the Histoman live on forever. It had been prophesized in their faith that a man with two faces will take them to the promised land. My father’s scar seems to have them thinking he is the son of Rolog, the demi-god and savior with two faces. He told them stories of the great ancient empires that were destroyed. He explained why they failed. They didn’t spread their seed far enough and they burned into ashes, blown away for the rest of time. The Histoman, while crude, share the same core beliefs as most families in Donegal. They act as one giant family but they want their blood lines and culture to live on forever. My father convinced them he could create an eternal blood line. My father and their leader, Cobra, brought the Histoman together. They had been split into rival factions, constantly warring with each other and bordering countries. My father and Cobra brought peace to this region and united all the Histoman. He did what he had to do and was thrown out of Donegal, just like you and me.”
The former queen’s calves were starting to burn when, to her relief, Ali-Samuel said, “Our quarters are right over there.” He pointed to the largest building at the top of the hill. When they entered, the furnishings were nicer than Emilia expected. A solid wooden table with nicely crafted chairs and two long cushioned benches lay along the walls. Ali-Samuel led her into a room of decent size, which was furnished well. She noticed a deck of castle cards tied with a lace ribbon on the middle of the bed.
“I know you like your games,” Ali-Samuel stated, pointing at the cards. “I will need to spend time in private meetings so these should help pass the time,” he smiled. Shouldn’t I be involved in these private meetings?
The small gift quelled any remaining hurt feelings Emilia might have from the trip. A few hours later, Emilia and Pariah sat on one of the red cushioned benches in the main room. She noticed flags hanging on the wall. They featured a black spike through a red fox’s head on a yellow field.
Pariah’s skin was darker than Emilia’s summer pigment and her full lips glistened as she said, “You were queen. Did you like?” The native woman spoke the common tongue in a broken, heavy accent. Emilia found it cute and answered, “Yes. Are you the queen of Histomanji?”
“No queen for Histoman. No kings. Only leader and God. You know Histomanji?” the young woman asked. “No, we never learned anything about Histomanji that I can remember,” Emilia responded. The only thing she knew was that they were widely regarded as godless savages.
“Histoman is herd with thunder. Histomanji is land of thunder herd. We come from dirt. When no more alive, we dirt again. If good dirt, we grow in heaven garden. Make big flowers. We one family. All brothers with sisters. Childs raised by everyone, not mother and father. Cobra like father to everyone, he protect us. Ali-Steven son of God,” the woman struggled through the words. Hearing the word thunder caused Emilia think about Ali-Ster’s nickname, Crimson Thunder. It’s probably just purely ironic.
“Ali-Steven is your God?” “No, almost God. Him down from heaven to help Histoman. Son of Rolog,” Pariah informed her. “Who is Rolog?” “Rolog is God. One God lives in sun. He ride horned white horse. He have two face. Rolog face half and half,” slowly said Pariah as she demonstrated across her face where Ali-Steven’s scar ran. “He son of Rolog.”
They are really backwards here. They think Ali-Steven Wamhoff is a son of their God? What have I gotten myself into?
Pariah continued, “Ali-Steven take us for new land. Wood stand on water.” Emilia helped her, “Yes, boats.” “That is. You stand on water?” Pariah asked. “Yes, I’ve ridden on many boats.” As Emilia reflected on the comment, she realized she hadn’t really been on very many ships before this trip.
“No is danger?” Pariah asked with a scared looked on her innocent face. “There is always danger at sea, but the boat is safe,” Emilia reassured the native. “I stand with you on wood?” Pariah shyly asked.
“I would be honored to stand with you,” Emilia smiled. “You are wife Ali-Samuel?” Pariah pried.
“No, not yet,” the former queen responded. “You want?” Pariah wondered. “Mayhaps,” she said with a smirk and twinkle in her eye, then asked a question of her own, “Ali-Samuel told me your leader’s name is Cobra. Is that right?” Pariah instantly responded, “Yes, is.”
“How did he get that name?” Emilia asked. “For Histoman, no name when born. Name is from actions. Cobra bite head off snake when have four summer. They say he Cobra. Other Histoman get name for looks or when action make name. Two summer or uh twelve summer to get name. Me name not same. Ali-Steven change.”
“What did it used to be?” Emilia wanted to know. “Tree Bark,” the young woman responded. “Why?”
Emilia inquired.
“When have five summers I eat bark. So they say it my name, Tree Bark. Ali-Steven say change. Now Pariah, I like,” she said while quickly nodding her head. “What is Tree Bark in, Histoman?” Emilia inquired. “Not Histoman. Ahtomen. Is OO PA AH OH AH. He say sound like Pariah. So it is.” The native shrugged her shoulders. “How did you learn the common tongue?” “Ali-Steven and others tell. I need make better. No good me,” Pariah said, lowering her head.
“No it’s fine. I can understand what you are saying and that’s what matters. I will help you learn to speak better,” Emilia promised. “A queen teach for me,” Pariah exposed a toothy smile.
Later that night, Emilia and Ali-Samuel lay in bed. “How long are we staying?” Emilia asked. “End of the season,” he responded. “What comes at the end of the season?” she asked.
“Revenge for three. My father was sent away once. He stood for honor and his king father sent him away to die. They sent me away, hoping I would die at war. Those crowns the throne prominently displays came from death missions your former husband sent me on. They wanted me to die but I just wouldn’t. Then there is you. How was your stay in that castle? How did the Wamhoff women treat you? The Wamhoffs have always treated us like shit. I share the same royal name and the family turns their noses up at me. They said my blood was soiled by my father’s traitor blood. Queen Tomeo forced them to call me Ali-Samuel but everyone laughed and knew I would never become king. I want to laugh at them for once. They looked down on all three of us our entire time in that castle. We tried to do this peacefully but it seems we were run from the realm, yet again. It’s high time for our revenge. It’s time for us to take back what is rightfully ours. It’s time to take Donegal by force.”
Fractured Families (The Pearl of Wisdom Saga Book 2) Page 11
