Fairy Tales (The Two Moons of Rehnor, Book 15)

by J. Naomi Ay

  When the voyage finally came to an end, when the continent of Karupatani was more than a tiny speck out on the horizon, and when Gani had destroyed no less than four burlap bags with her sickness, the seas finally settled. For the last afternoon of the voyage, the waters were calm and clear, though bitterly cold, and an unwelcoming shade of dark, foreboding gray.

  Gani shivered from head to toe, an experience she had never known, except when she was ill with fever. Quickly, her fingers and toes became stiff. Her teeth began to knock together, and instinctively, her arms wrapped tightly about her chest.

  “Are you cold?” the trader asked, unloading his boxes. He was carrying them to the back of a cart, whereupon a somewhat handsome young man was patiently waiting

  Gani nodded. Yes, this was what she was. This was cold, and it wasn’t pleasant. Never before had she experienced such a thing.

  “Here,” the trader said, handing over some kind of creature. “Now, be gone with you, or I’ll ask for more than just your grandfather’s stick.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Gani nodded again, clutching the creature tightly in her arms. Its soft fur immediately warmed her shivering chest. “We shall take care of one another,” she whispered, into its fuzzy ear.

  "That would be something," the trader chortled. "Considering the thing is dead."

  Gani immediately dropped the creature, whereupon it landed on the ground in a puddle left by rain.

  "Dark fool! I'm not about to give you another one. Wear it like that."

  The trader strode away, his long legs taking him swiftly down the street, while Gani stared at the creature, studying its face. It had a long pointed snout, and two glassy eyes framed by curious black fur, while the rest of it was a mixture of a gray and white pelt. Its eyes weren't moving at all, and the snout didn't open once to take a breath. Despite laying in the puddle, it appeared to be unconcerned.

  Gani knelt down and put a finger on its ear. Still, it didn't move. She lifted the snout, whereupon she realized, it was empty underneath. The dark girl screamed, and backed away, as she realized its entire body was gone.

  "What kind of creature is this?" She gasped aloud, a statement which duly entertained the passing hordes.

  "Look at the dark fool," a Karupta woman laughed. "She's afraid of a fur cloak."

  “She’s too stupid to recognize a pelt when it is dead,” declared another.

  Gani burst into tears, entertaining the crowd even more, until a young man’s voice ordered her to pick it up. The girl looked up to see the same fellow from the docks, the one who was driving the cart full of the trader's goods.

  "Pick it up, and bring it here," the man repeated, speaking each word slowly, enunciating each sound as if Gani was too dumb to speak his language. The girl did as she was bid, cradling the creature’s head within her hands, the empty body dragging across the ground as she approached the cart. The young man reached into a box behind him, producing another soulless head and empty pelt of fur.

  "I'll trade you this one for that. Put it around you, and climb aboard."

  Again, Gani did as she was bid, although she felt incredibly strange dressed in the dead body of animal. The pelt made her skin itch, her own fur stand on end, although it was warm, and made this ride slightly more pleasant.

  Despite her awkward introduction, Gani grew enchanted by the busy village which stretched before her.

  “So many people of Karupatani!” she murmured as they trundled down the street.

  “Ay yah!" he replied, bringing his whip down across the huge oxen's back. The cart lurched forward, bouncing along the rutted streets. "In Mishnah, I am told, there are even more. I have never seen it. Perhaps, someday, I might. Where are you off to, little sister? Where may I take you on this ride?"

  "Kudisha," Gani replied, knowing only the capital's name, for it was the same as Arsan’s father.

  "Ach, Kudisha, that's where everyone wants to go. Do you intend to acquire for yourself a de Kudisha prince?"

  Gani giggled, uncertain if the fellow was teasing or not. In her mind, she already had a de Kudisha prince. However, she conveniently ignored the fact that Arsan was so young, and had recently disappeared without wishing her goodbye. He did take his betrothal vest though. That was a positive sign, which was why Gani set out on this journey to find him.

  Still, there was something about this carter that Gani found quite pleasing. As she settled by his side, wrapped in her creature cloak, she smiled to herself. Although the weather was certainly not to her taste, this busy land of Karupatani with her tall green trees, dark water, and many laughing people did hold a certain amount of charm.

  "I'm off to Shrotru," the carter declared, once again knocking his whip upon the enormous beasts. The animals snorted, not appreciating the driver's demands. They wagged their short tails angrily, which caused Gani's own long, lithe tail to respond in kind, sympathetic to the plight of these poor beasts of burden. "But, I'll take you to the crossroads in the mountains along the divide. From there, you can find another ride. If you choose to walk, it is mostly downhill. Not a bad hike at all if it doesn’t snow. I've done it myself many a time."

  "I can't pay you," Gani murmured. "I have nothing to give." She held out her empty hands, while batting her fetching lilac eyes.

  "Indeed, you can. Yes, I believe, you can pay me if you will."

  The young man laughed, his gaze washing over Gani's face, and appraising her slight, furry body. She was tiny, and had a tail, but was a woman all the same, while the carter was young, and willing to try just about anything with anyone.

  Dirkeh had only been a carter for little more than half a year. The oxen team and cart belonged to his cousin, Norman, who had been injured during the summer falling out of a tree. The full nature of Norman’s accident, Dirkeh never quite understood. In fact, no one in the family knew what Norman was doing up there, and since he fell upon his head, Norman couldn’t say.

  The unfortunate event happened in the middle of the night, while both moons were waning gibbous, and a wolf pack was howling in a nearby hill. The wind had been blowing slightly, not enough to knock the sizeable man to the ground, yet somehow, Norman had come crashing down.

  Not only did he break his shoulder, but Norman also broke something important in his brain, leaving him nearly incapacitated, and confined to a chair. Since that terrible night, he had spent his days upon his porch mumbling all sorts of nonsense about black eagles, silver angels, and yellow snakes.

  “He needs a good doctor,” Norman’s wife, Nerma sighed, clucking her tongue, and shaking her head, her hands never leaving the dough which she was always kneading.

  Nerma, incidentally, was the village baker, a profession which kept her occupied throughout the day and night. This left her with no time to care for her newly incapacitated husband. Neither did she wish to manage his cart and trade, hence the call to cousin Dirkeh to help them out.

  At the time, the village doctor took offense to Nerma’s blatant criticisms of his skills, for he had always thought himself far better than most in Karupatani. His herbal tinctures, curative smoke, and healing dance were considered top notch throughout the land, although they didn’t do much for Norman beyond making him sneeze.

  During Norman’s convalescence, Dirkeh was commissioned to take over the route, to manage the oxen, and keep the cart in running order. Dirkeh liked his new employment, considering his old position had been the Ash and Pee Collector, a job which required going from home to home to collect exactly that. It was an important position, although a bit untidy, for both substances were used in tanning skins.

  Dirkeh hadn’t minded the Ash and Pee job, which actually had been a promotion from his previous, in which, he had been responsible for mashing the brains of dead animals into a pulp. Indeed, a tanner’s apprentice led a hard and smelly life. However, this carter’s life was definitely the best, a liberating existence of travel and adventures out in the open air.

  Dirkeh and Gani had been travelling for two w
eeks when the rain fell so heavily the oxen cart became stuck in a rut. A wheel broke, the yoke cracked, the cart rolled, and all the boxes fell out into the mud. Hundreds of soft Dark Continent yellow melons ended up in squishy, mucky messes, ruining Dirkeh’s load, and simultaneously evaporating all his profits.

  Gani went flying too, for she had no seat belt to keep her strapped in. Were it not for her tail, she might have ended up injured or dead instead of swinging from the lower limb of a nearby Madrona tree.

  Dirkeh wasn’t nearly so lucky, but then again, neither were his appendages so unique. He fell over into the pile of smashed and muddy melons. Although his fall was cushioned by the fruit, the impact still managed to sever his ankle, as well as dislocate his left knee, causing great pain. However, his reputation and employment as a carter suffered the most damage as both goods and cart were forever gone.

  “Kari-fa!” Dirkeh yelled, his voice echoing through the empty forest.

  “Oy yoy yoy yoy!” Gani wept, swinging from the tree.

  “Kari-fa!” Vinz cried, his timely arrival on the scene quite opportune. “Maytor, help the monkey girl down, whilst I aide this young man.”

  Chapter 7

  When Arsan was twelve years old, having returned from the Dark Continent to Kudisha, he lived in the home of the High Priest and his cousin, Tuman. During this time, the MaKennah went missing. All Rehnor mourned the Emperor’s loss, although no one was certain if he was really gone.

  Once or twice, Arsan’s father, the Imperial Prince Shika came to Karupatani to pray and to listen to the wisdom of the elders. Whilst there, the Prince never noticed Arsan, nor did the boy give his father a chance to see him, for he hid in the trees, or roamed the forest when the man visited.

  However, the Prince’s brother, Prince Revak happened upon him one day, while Arsan was tending to a doe who had been caught in hunter's trap. Why Revak was wandering through the forest when he should have been in council with his brother and the elders, was a question that Arsan never sought to ask. The Prince didn’t wonder about Arsan either, as he too, seemed more concerned with the injured doe, who Arsan would mend with a touch as soon as the Imperial Visitor left.

  “What happened to her?” Revak asked, in halting, accented Karupatani, a language he had only just begun to learn.

  “Uh,” Arsan grunted and pointed at the young doe’s leg, while pretending he had not yet begun to learn the same.

  “Maybe, you should just kill her. I mean, don’t make her suffer and then get eaten by something like a…a…door knob.”

  “Nu uh,” Arsan responded, trying hard to disguise his mirth.

  The boy was pretty certain the Prince had meant to say a bear, which save a hard consonant at the end, was nearly the same sound as the verb ‘to open a door.’

  The Prince, being a compassionate fellow, continued this conversation for a few more rounds, suggesting that the doe wear a purple hat, and learn to play the piano.

  Arsan nodded dutifully, finding great entertainment in the Prince’s struggle with his mother tongue. In fact, he realized he quite liked this paternal uncle, perhaps even more so than his absent and unknowing father.

  “Well, good luck growing tomatoes.” Revak waved, continuing his seemingly aimless journey through the brush.

  "Good luck to you," Arsan whispered to the prince, and then the doe as he healed her and set her free.

  After one such visit of the Imperial Personages, Tuman mentioned to Arsan that Prince Shika had inquired of his Imperial Father.

  “He wished to know if we had been in contact with the MaKennah, but I told him neither Rekah, nor I have heard a word. Neither has there been an odd screech, or a quiet peep, nor a loud squawk, a raucous yawp, or any loose feathers on our porch.”

  Tuman laughed, thinking himself so very clever, while Arsan stared determinably at his soup bowl.

  “How about you, young Arsan? Has the Great Black Eagle flown by you? Perhaps, you have a favorite perch where you meet to enjoy fresh rat, or does he resent your intrusion in his territory? I imagine his talons are much larger than yours.”

  “Huh?” Arsan cried, a bit startled by the question.

  Did Tuman know who and what they were, and if so, how, for it had never been discussed? At this point, he wasn’t certain what he might reveal to Cousin Tuman, so he stared at his soup, at the dark and fatty thing floating in it. Most likely it was a chunk of mutton, Tuman’s grandmother, Garinka’s signature dish. It turned Arsan’s fickle stomach. As he swallowed the barley, he apologized to the spirit of the boiled sheep for any of its molecules he may have inadvertently consumed.

  “Well?” Tuman repeated, gazing at the boy with a broad, indulgent smile. “Has the MaKennah spoken to you? What news have you for me, my young friend?”

  "Nu uh," Arsan grunted, accidentally spilling a spoonful upon the table, having completely missed his mouth with this strange utensil.

  The High Priest narrowed his eyes, his smile not diminishing even a little.

  “You shall tell me when you are ready, I suspect.” Then, he wiped up the spill and refilled the child’s bowl, whistling happily as if he had neither cares nor concerns.

  There was nothing to tell, Arsan thought, although he didn’t share that with Tuman. Instead, he lifted the bowl and drank from it as if it were a cup. These spoons were a waste of time, and too difficult to maneuver, especially for a boy who had always eaten with his hands.

  The truth was, the MaKennah hadn't come to see Arsan, not since the boy left the Dark Continent ages ago. The child assumed it was because the Great Man was annoyed with him. There was little Arsan could do that did not seem to ruffle the Imperial Feathers.

  Not long after that, Arsan did receive some guests. He couldn’t say exactly how much time had passed from that moment to this, only that the moons had both waxed and waned, before chasing each other out of the night time sky.

  The boy was speaking with a goat, who like himself, was a young and inquisitive creature, although at the moment, seemed only interested in eating Arsan’s slippers. Winter was settling upon Karupatani, the rains frequent and cold against the child's skin, as the scraggly remains of the summer’s grass were bitter to the young Billy’s tongue.

  However, the weather didn’t bother the young goat, nor did it concern the young boy, who was in the midst of telling the goat a story of Goom and Gani. The goat stood placidly listening, his jaws busy with Arsan’s footwear, his tail swishing back and forth at non-existent flies.

  For this reason in particular, the boy preferred speaking with animals rather than people. They weren’t nearly so argumentative, and tended to agree with almost everything he said. If they had an ache or pain, a thorn in a hoof, parasites, foot rot, or wooden tongue, Arsan was happy enough to cure them with a touch of his hand.

  Although it left him winded for a bit, it was well worth the brief inconvenience for the animals gratitude knew no bounds. They would cover him in licks and kisses before returning to the pasture to happily romp around. For Arsan, there was no greater form of payment.

  The goat, on that day, was feeling fine save a small laceration on his left rear fetlock due to an encounter with fence post. Arsan had offered to fix it for him, but the Billy had respectfully declined, preferring not to interrupt his dining above all else. It was right about this moment, Arsan deep into a tale of a fishing excursion with Goom, when a voice called out, "Hey, ho, is this Kudisha?"

  Arsan turned to discover an oxen cart filled with none other than his once step-father Maytor, along with his little friend Gani, who was dressed in a raccoon coat. Behind the buckboard sat two other men, Vinz and Dirkeh, although Arsan didn't know them at the time.

  "Hey, ho," Maytor called again. "If this be Kudisha, we are looking for a boy named Arsan. We are in great need of his healing powers to help us out."

  "That would be me," Arsan reluctantly replied.

  When one has a gift, such as the ability to heal, and when one becomes completely drained of
his own life force when he uses it, one shouldn't use it all the time. One should save it to cure the ones who would benefit most from its use, the ones who are deserving of this healing touch.

  Arsan recalled Goom saying something like this. It might have been when Arsan was attempting to treat a feral cat, who was suffering from a terrible case of fleas. It was a simple enough procedure to eradicate them, although it presented an ethical dilemma of sorts. The cat would be cured, but hundreds of fleas would die.

  How to determine who benefits most? Who deserves to live and who to die?

  Arsan had hesitated to consider the ramifications, an action which caused the cat great offense. She looked upon the boy with a glare of feline disdain. She demanded he immediately act, before she took charge herself, while Arsan begged the pardon of every flea.

  "That is the question, isn't it?" Goom had asked, picking up his ebony walking stick, and strolling away. "Is a flea less deserving of life than a cat? Is a snake less deserving than a hawk? Is the hawk less deserving than the eagle, who would gladly slay him in the air and eat him for breakfast? A simple old man like me has not the answer, only the questions. To solve this conundrum, you must speak to the One Who Knows."

  "The One Who Knows?" the boy repeated.

  "He Who is Like is also the One Who Knows, although sometimes, he is merely the One Who Acts So Terribly Dumb."

  Unfortunately, during the MaKennah's last visit, Arsan had forgotten to discuss this important question. At the time, the boy was preoccupied with the evil snake, and Goom's demise. Now, he was confronted with a similar dilemma for Gani was requesting he heal the injured Dirkeh, the man who she had chosen instead of him.

  Not, that this bothered Arsan by any means. He wasn't about to commit to Gani or any other girl, especially at the tender young age of thirteen. Still, Dirkeh's injuries were fairly significant, and would require a certain amount of Arsan's strength, and for a while, prevent him from helping any others.