by Brett Vonsik
“Pax, looks like they guessed our path,” Rogaan said as he crouched. “I do not think we can get past that crowd without being seen.”
“Maybe for ya,” Pax replied arrogantly, if not a bit playfully. “Though, I think there not be much reason ta be doin’ this without ya. Ya know where ta go. Lead us on.”
A shiver rippled down Rogaan’s spine. They could not go back and walking the ravine wall was not an option. “No, Pax. I cannot. I mean....”
“I know ya no like da water...and them nasties in it,” Pax spoke with sincere sympathy in his voice. “But, Rogaan...it be our only way out of town.”
Rogaan wanted to avoid the water, desperately wanted any other option than to ride the river, but nothing came to him...just as nothing came to him when they discussed this plan in his house. He hoped then and now to avoid the river. His hairs prickled on the back of his neck and skin, causing him to shiver visibly. He swallowed hard then swallowed hard again, considering his options. The torches were moving closer to them. They had no options, Rogaan reluctantly admitted to himself, before leading Pax to their right and the river shore.
The sound of flowing water, the flickering torch lights of people moving on the far shore on the lower farming fields, and the cool moist air told Rogaan they were close to the water’s edge. With much trepidation, he approached the water’s edge, certain he would be eaten by a snapjaw when he stepped into the flow.
“Pax...there has to be another way.” Rogaan tried his best to sound calm and reasonable instead of suffering the raging battle of fear inside of him.
“Rogaan, ya know there not be,” Pax replied firmly. “Now, let’s get in da water and get this over with.” Pax gave Rogaan a gentle push, urging him forward over rocks and mud.
Rogaan took a deep breath and swallowed hard before he stepped into the flowing water. The water was colder and stronger than he expected, causing him to suffer a cruel shiver as it took his breath away, and nearly knocking him from his feet. It was a good sign the water being cold…he tried to convince himself, since many of the dangerous animals preferred warmer water. After taking a number of deep breaths, procrastinating, he uneasily lowered himself up to his neck in the cold Tamarad River while looking for any movement at the water’s surface. Rogaan saw only the ripples from his own passage and the swirling waters of fast-moving water reflected in the light. A small sigh of relief escaped him.
Rogaan and Pax stayed close as they allowed the river’s current to carry them downstream toward the water grate protecting Brigum from the world outside the wall, at least from those creatures large enough to harm townsfolk. Rogaan’s anxiety climbed the closer they came to the water grate. Outside, they would be in the middle of the life circle and a meal for many creatures calling the river home. The only things going in their favor were the cool air and water. Snapjaws moved sluggishly in these conditions, Rogaan recalled this from his Kiuri’Ner teachings at the Wall, but tanniyn were another problem. They were not so affected by cool air. Once they reached the water grate, Pax easily squeezed through the vertical bars. Despite the forceful flow of water, Rogaan got stuck in the grate until he shifted his gear and exhaled so forcefully that he started seeing flashing white lights dance before him. With a lurch, he popped free from the bars. The lights disappeared when his lungs filled with air, and his head started to clear after taking several more gulps of air while floating southward. When he looked up, he found himself more than forty strides from the town’s wall, and being carried rapidly downstream. In no time he would be beyond the light cast from the guard towers. With a start and a surge of panic, Rogaan snapped his head back and forth, looking from shoreline to shoreline for the death he was certain would come. A splash at the shore to his left and slightly ahead of him sent a bolt of fear surging through him. He froze, unable to do anything other than float and wait for teeth-filled jaws to drag him under. A sense of relief washed over him when he spotted Pax crawling out of the water, and with urgency, he swam to the shore and Pax.
Once on land, Rogaan grabbed Pax and hurried them eastward away from the shore, careful not to stumble over a snapjaw or tanniyn in the darkness. If they were going to meet danger, near the water was the most likely place it would happen. They quickly found a place to hide in a thick grove of gum trees interspersed with heavy bushes some hundred paces from the river. Rogaan did not know whether he shivered more from their unsettling journey, or from his wet, cold clothes. Pax looked just as cold, holding himself with knees drawn close to his chest and shivering.
“We cannot stay here long,” Rogaan stated with a low, shaky voice. He wrapped his arms around himself to try to keep from shivering, though without much success.
“You be right.” Pax’s response was surprisingly without cynicism. His teeth chattered a little as he spoke. “Guards be lookin’ here soon.”
“No,” Rogaan corrected him. “I expect Kiuri’Ner and Sharur as soon as they figure out we are not where they think we should be, in town. We are in danger of being caught and returned to the Hall of Laws unless we get to the Ebon Circle.”
“And who be that up there, again?” Pax changed the subject.
Rogaan was confused by Pax’s question and gave him a quizzical look. “Who?”
“Da shadow with the blades,” Pax continued. “Da one who cut everyone up?”
“No idea,” Rogaan replied, but in a troubled tone. “Why would anyone help us? It does not make sense, unless…. Maybe he’s from the Ebon Circle?”
“Ya be honestly wantin’ ta go there?” Pax asked seriously with eyes wide.
“Yes,” Rogaan replied just as seriously.
“Ya heard da stories?” Pax continued. “They sacrifice folks ta their Ancients and they change those they don’t like into things best not ta say. And what about da nasty things livin’ in their temple? There be evil there.”
“Pax,” Rogaan reluctantly answered. “We have little choice. We need help.” For all of Pax’s pretense of not being bothered by much, he certainly wanted nothing to do with the Ebon Circle. In truth, Rogaan feared the place as much as he suspected Pax did, but they had nowhere else to go. If they went to House Isin’s southern estate, the Tusaa’Ner or Kiuri’Ner would eventually catch them, and many of his mother’s blood might get harmed or worse if they got in the way...which they would, defending the family. House Isin would likely be declared law-breakers and their lands and possessions taken by the Ensi or Town Council. Jir would see to that. They might even be jailed or executed. He was certain several of the other Houses would make sure the worst of that happened, especially House Lagash. Lagash’s feud with Isin had deep roots that Rogaan was unclear about. His father and mother spoke vaguely about it, but enough that Rogaan knew that it predated the Shuruppak Civil War. Beyond that was all guessing for him. “I will not believe Father wants me to go there just to see me sacrificed or worse…shunir’ra or not.”
“Well,” Pax protested. “I no like it. I think ya makin’ a mistake, but I be goin’ with ya if ya go. After all, I can no go back to Brigum, and House Isin not be takin’ me unless ya mother allows it, and that not be ta likely.”
“My mother does not dislike you...that much,” Rogaan said with a growing smile. Pax’s loyalty made him feel safer somehow. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Pax asked, overdramatically.
“For being my friend,” Rogaan answered. “We need to get going. We have a long trek ahead of us and it will not be safe here soon.”
Anxious at the chirps, clicks, and squawks of the night, they quickly wrung out what clothing they could before setting off south along the river. They kept just far enough away from the river to hear the rush of water, but not so close that they might stumble over something they would rather wish they had not. The cool air and his wet clothes made it difficult for Rogaan to put the chill out of mind. Pax was more vocal about his discomfort, grumbling in a low voice at how cold it was and how much he looked forward to a warm fire and soup. Rogaan wished
for the same, but said nothing to encourage Pax’s complaining. Of more concern to Rogaan was the darkness pressing in from all directions, and the unknown just beyond the edge of his sight. Anything could be waiting for them...for him. Fearful of being caught unprepared by the night, Rogaan assembled his shunir’ra mostly by touch while walking, stopping momentarily only to string his metallic bow and notch a regular iron-tipped arrow -- not one of his blue steel-tipped arrows -- before continuing on. Pax paid little attention to Rogaan and just kept walking and grumbling about being cold.
It was nearly twenty marches to the Ebon Circle grounds, if he recalled his father’s descriptions of the lands and temple grounds well enough. Rogaan wondered how many times his father had been there. It seemed he was very familiar with the temple. What did he do there? He had always found his father’s stories of adventure and history interesting when he was younger, but never thought he would put any of that knowledge to use. Rogaan found himself wishing he had paid more attention to them and regretting the less-frequent telling of his father’s stories in recent years. He certainly could benefit from more details, now. Rogaan realized, with growing regret, how much he missed talking with his father and the time they spent together at the fireside.
Stumbling over a large, raised root, Rogaan fell to his knees, bruising his leg on another root. Grumbling, he carefully rose, then continued on into the deep shadows of the waxing moon casting its light through the treetops. The going was slow over uneven ground and through unknown woods -- much slower than Rogaan had anticipated. He hoped he could recognize the road leading east to the Ebon Circle when they crossed it, as there was not a road on this side of the river to follow; otherwise, he and Pax would become more lost than he felt they were now.
The forest “song” of biters, featherwings, leatherwings, and other creatures filled the night air. The sounds of tanniyns were far and fewer than the days. Rogaan was thankful the big beasts mostly slept at night instead of prowling about. It lessened his angst traveling in the darkness -- not much, but he welcomed anything to get him through this. They walked...more felt...their way for what seemed hours when Rogaan stumbled in the deep ruts of a dirt road and fell. He cursed himself for his clumsiness as Pax chuckled.
“Ya found it,” Pax sarcastically declared. His voice then turned serious. “Ya not really goin’ ta da dark robes, are ya?”
“What choice do we have, Pax?” Rogaan shot back from his prone position. Red-faced and grateful for the concealing darkness, he rose to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster. “To free Father and your parents, we need help…and not that of the town. And do not ask about House Isin. They will not help and put their lands, wealth, and freedoms in jeopardy. I will not ask that of them. The Town Council is not to be trusted with Jir and the Ensi in charge. Jir and the Ensi will leave House Isin alone only if they do nothing against the Tusaa’Ner. At least Mother and Suhd will be safe on Isin’s estates.”
Pax grunted then guardedly agreed with Rogaan. “Not ta many friends. Still, we can be lookin’ for others ta help or do this with just us.”
“No,” Rogaan answered wearing a stone-hard expression, determination burning in his eyes. “I am going to see our parents free, and that means we need help. That means the Ebon Circle.”
Chapter 12
Plans Changed
Unsure whether this dirt road led to the quarry or to the temple, Rogaan decided to walk it a little way in the hopes they would find something telling them if they were going in the right direction. Leading Pax eastward on the dry, rutted, and pot-holed road, crunching clumps of loose dirt kicked up by prior traffic, Rogaan began to think he had the wrong road. Pax grumbled about having to travel the Wilds despite the going being easier on the road than through the forest. No longer did he curse the cool night air or his damp clothes; he and Rogaan had long since warmed themselves from the walking. Instead, he complained of the road -- a trail, more, by his comments -- and his struggle to keep from twisting his ankles. Rogaan fared better, his eyes now adjusted to the dim light of the moon and stars. Still, he felt his way along the road with his feet more than he wanted. They climbed a rising slope, higher into the front range of the mountain ridge, large hills really, that lay to the southeast of Brigum. At the edges of the road, worked rocks and wood debris, and occasionally parts of wagons, littered the way. It was obvious the road was heavily used and recently so, by the looks of some of the debris, but something seemed out of place. Rogaan seriously questioned whether he had the right road. His father’s stories never mentioned a trail of wreckage on the way to the Ebon Circle. Soon enough, they crested a rise in the road then came to an abrupt halt. Not more than forty strides away, at the south side of the road, stood a small shack illuminated with several lanterns hanging from a pole and a tree branch close by. The structure was a guard post with metal spikes sticking out from all sides and a sign staked into the ground next to the shack. On it, faded writing Rogaan could not make out from this distance gave him hope to finally answer his burning question. Two baraan dressed in common breeches and tunics were talking casually as they leaned against their shack.
“Pax,” Rogaan said in a low voice then waited until Pax stopped next to him. “I do not think we are in the right place.”
“It be a road goin’ east, and people be up ahead?” Pax’s reply sounded more like a statement than question.
“I think we are on the road to the quarry,” Rogaan admitted, finally.
“Da quarry?” Pax asked.
“You know...the place where Brigum’s law-breakers are sent to pay penance,” Rogaan explained in a low voice. He did not want to alert the unwary guards, who were lost in their talk and had not noticed them.
“I know,” Pax sounded irritated. “Da place they say I should be most days.”
“Where Kantus and Jir would like to see us both,” Rogan agreed. “We need to keep going south to find the road to the Ebon Circle.”
“Ya can no be serious, Rogaan,” Pax protested more strongly than any previous, and louder than Rogaan liked. “It be wrong of ya ta take us ta ‘em. No tellin’ what ta happin’ ta us once we be inside their walls.”
“Quiet your voice!” Rogaan hushed Pax. “My father spoke kindly of the one called Im’Kas. I plan to seek him out, there.”
“You two!” a voice called out, surprising Rogaan and, by the look on his face, Pax, also. “What are you doing here? Lower your weapons and submit.”
Pax looked to Rogaan with eyes that told him submitting was not his friend’s way. Nor could Rogaan afford to get entangled with Quarry Folk. They would slow them down, at best, and turn them over to Brigum’s guard, at worst. He and Pax would then likely see the insides of the quarry, with pick and shovel in hand. “Run!”
“Which way?” Pax asked urgently.
“South,” Rogaan answered then bolted to his right and into the shadows of the forest and the unknown, hoping he was doing the right thing.
“Stop!” a guard commanded. “Surrender, you two!”
“Wait for me!” Pax called after Rogaan loudly then followed.
The going was difficult and dangerous as they moved fast through thick forest to avoid capture. Branches slapped at their faces and arms, marking Rogaan with stinging cuts, as underbrush grabbed at his feet, tripping him and sending him to the dirt often. Luckily, he kept his nocked arrow from piercing him, but decided it best to put away his arrow and sling the bow over his shoulders to move through the thicker underbrush to keep from injuring himself. Rogaan slowed to a walk when he thought they were far enough away that the quarry guards would not follow -- a little more than 500 paces, by his count. When he slowed he caught his breath. Pax kept close on his heels, though he did not seem as winded as Rogaan felt. Soon after they stopped stomping through the forest, making enough noise to wake the lightless, the forest came alive with its “song,” returning to normal. Biters buzzing, hoppers croaking and chirping…or was the chirping from featherwings or leapers? Rogaan p
rayed to the Ancients that the chirping was not from leapers stalking them. He was more alert, swiveling his head, trying to look all about them at all times.
They continued on, with Rogaan hoping he was leading them south -- the moon looked to be in the right spot over his shoulder for them to be heading south. He just had to have faith in the skills Kardul taught him in the Valley of the Claw and hope they would not stumble on a tanniyn resting the night. Their travel was unnerving. Rogaan’s eyes adjusted well to the shadowy darkness, allowing him to see details Pax could not discern, but that only made every shadow a potential danger and a reason to feel on edge. After a long while, the forest’s musty scent gave way to a mix of scented flowers with a hint of acrid charcoal. It was then Rogaan realized he had the charcoal scent on his hands and clothes, where he had brushed trees that looked old and barren and had little underbrush at their bases.
The forest quickly opened to spare stands of trees, just as many blackened and barren from old fires as not. Lush shrub and fern growth, as high as Rogaan’s waist, mixed with flowering bushes covered the ground, except on the beaten-down path where Rogaan and Pax now stood as they looked about for danger. The gray-toned forest, Rogaan saw, revealed nothing larger than an occasional featherwing and the buzzing bloodsuckers moving. He breathed a bit easier.
“I no see a thing,” Pax complained.
“Not much to see,” Rogaan replied.
