The Bok of Syr Folk

by Russ L. Howard

  Long Swan was too broken in spirit to fully grasp Elfy’s attempt to comfort him. He just stared at Elfy for a moment before putting an arm around Ysys and leading her away.

  “Let’s leave this place of wrath and horror.”

  She didn’t protest, but looked back at the pit one last time.

  As they made their way through the marshes, the Chartreuseans from Arym Gael were not waiting at the designated rendezvous point. Long Swan stopped to ask Ilkchild, “Where’d Ila and the others go?”

  Ilkchild shrugged. “As soon as the fracas began, they fled home. They have no sense of chain of command, following orders, and certainly, as you saw, little to no stomach for battle.”

  How different the Arym Gaelean way was in dealing with reprobates like Ashim and Ychstein. Both cultures abhorred evil and evil doers, but as the lines of a Herewardi hymn laid out, ‘We build halls, mansions, and palaces for the righteous, but cut off the wicked both root and branch.” While the Chartreuseans simply banished evil doers, they still suffer them to trade and live nearby. He pondered how confusing everything must be for Ysys.

  He leaned down to whisper, “Are you alright, my dear?”

  She turned slowly to look at him and spoke as if in a trance. “I cannot know which was more horrible, being taken captive by Ashim and suffering his unwanted attentions or Xelph’s bloody retribution. Both seem to me extremes beyond any previous experience of mine. I just have to wonder if this is the way life is going to be among the Syr Folk.”

  * * *

  It was the sixth day out from Rosarita on the great deep when Juan heard, Tom Harman, the Citriodoran shout from the crow’s nest, “Land ahoy! To starboard.”

  From his position astern, Juan turned to star board and searched the horizon. There it was lying low like a bump riding on the sea.

  He whistled for attention. “Alright, men, we are passing the southern tip of the Isle of Ilkchild. Diego, set a course toward the isle. We are soon going to run the western shore. Irving, I want you to map out every nook and cranny and point out any landmark you see, any settlement, and any bays you spot.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” the Citriodoran map maker replied.

  Juan motioned for Standing Bull to attend him. “You’ll want to keep an eye along with Irving so you can be familiar with these possible ports.”

  As the ship entered the rougher waters and the yaw of the west coast, Pock Face raced to the rail and retched out his breakfast. He said, “I fear, I’ve been poisoned,” he gasped. “I suspect those awful beans you Mexus eat.”

  Juan shrugged. “No, it is the sickness of the sea. You’ll eventually get used to it. The choppy waters here cause it.”

  As they sailed along the coast, Juan remembered the first time he passed this way in the days when he only had two ships and traveled with two other Mexus ships and two Pitter ships that had paid him dearly to show them the isle. One of the Pitter vessels broke on the rocky shoals after spotting what they mistook for a port because a campfire burned on the cliffs above.

  It had been good hunting on that venture. His Mexus pirates had intercepted two Friscan ships loaded with goods and chests full of gold solidus, making for the northwest to trade their boodle to the Columba Rogue nation. He had boarded one of the ships with his pirates and quickly relieved them of their riches, he was about to board the second ship when the rest of the Friscan fleet pursued him. He swung so far out to sea that the Friscans dared not follow, though he had to outrun the Pyringean Sea Stallions. He had made enough on that voyage to construct thirteen more clipper ships.

  To get close enough to the isle to make out distinctive features for mapping, Juan charted a course as close to the shore as he dared. The land started out with stacked basalt pillars that had collapsed, and then it gradually rose back up as one sailed north. It put him in mind of a half ruined fence, with some of the columns lying horizontally then gradually standing erect like pillars of stone. Even with a strong following wind, it took them a day and most of the night to reach the large bay that he had wanted to explore in the first expedition. He couldn’t during his first time there, because the Mexus pirates feared being out so far in the deep. This time however, he directed Diego to take him inside the breakwater and up the fjords.

  When the morning light spread from the horizon, the bay proved far longer than Juan had thought. It had a deep channel that ran inland. He dropped some of the sails to slow the speed. They were walled in by white beaches and savannah land on both sides. Then, the inland passage splintered into a network of fjords. Wary of going aground, he opted to anchor so that they could explore the fjords in porter boats.

  Juan turned to Standing Bull. “This might be the place that Sanangrar is looking for. We can afford to spend one day investigating and mapping out this bay and, perhaps, if the water is deep enough, explore several of these fjords. Then we will need to resume our voyage. ”

  Standing Bull declared, “My men do not take to eating pork. Perhaps we can bring some game back.”

  “I could go for some meat myself, but you have only one day and we will need to resume our voyage.”

  “Although it appears there are no inhabitants here, we must be on guard. You may take your weapons and be sure to return here before the tide turns.”

  Juan called up to Tom. “Have you seen any settlements or game from up there?”

  As Standing Bull prepared to climb down the ladder, Tom Harman called down from the crows nest. “Coming up the coast, I saw only one settlement a little ways inland, but that was several leagues back, I doubt anyone is here, the paths are all too crooked for people. There are numerous herds of deer-like creatures in the savannah, but this land here appears to be totally void of any human habitation.”

  “It is probably too wild.”

  After sending out two porter boats with instructions to gather greens and game and return before low tide, Juan spent the day going over the maps Irving had already made and fleshed in the details. Juan studied them carefully and made his own notes and observations about the feasibility of ports and landing troops.

  His men returned around three on the sundial to report the land was well watered with abundant springs, deep soils, and defensible mounds. Standing Bull returned with one large antelope and several goat sized ones. After the porter boats had been hoisted and secured, Juan gave the order to heave anchor and set sail. They had been to sea for several hours when a look out spotted what at first glance, appeared to be another bay, but Juan knew that it was filled with treacherous shoals that had gutted the Pitter ship so that none of the passengers survived. He was glad for the training his father had imparted to him. For he was able to spot the danger right off and though he signaled the Pitter vessel that day, they had chosen to ignore his warning. The other Pitter ship had attempted to reclaim the cargo, which he had also advised against. This Pitter captain later relayed this event to Sanangrar, which triggered his search for Juan.

  Just at dusk of the next day, they came upon a partial atoll that was open like the mouth of a kettle, leading into what appeared from the dark blue water to be a very deep bay suitable for anchorage and portage of any large vessel. Once inside the bay, they headed to the opposing shore and anchored a safe distance from the beach.

  Juahilote said, “Damn, it looks like a jungle over there, so dark and leafy.”

  “Well, it’s too late to explore tonight.” Juan decided aloud. Jose, bring out all the women and let them exercise on deck before their meal.”

  Juan had a special meal of antelope steak prepared, took a bath, and groomed himself in his best. He then ordered Juahilote to have Tree Song join him in his cabin. It annoyed him that he was as nervous as a boy courting for the first time. His cabin was in the stern with a series of windows looking out on the blue bay and the jungle beyond. It was the last of the sunset and the sky was a mixture of pink hues and orange clouds tinged with the faintest lavender. A knock at the door turned him quickly.

  “Enter,�
�� he called.

  Jauhilote ushered the girl into his cabin and led her to the table. Instead of looking at him, she focused on the deck. Jualhilote left her standing and closed the door behind him.

  “Believe it or not, I do not bite.” Juan said as gently as he could manage.

  “Then why have you shown me such favor,” Tree Song asked, her eyes still downcast.

  “It has always been my nature to take great pleasure in pretty women, especially one as pretty as you.”

  She looked at him then and her eyes flashed Apache fire and pride. “I will not give myself to any man and I would choose death over yielding, especially to one who would make me a slave.”

  Even when angry her voice had a musical quality to it. And yet, he could still hear the strength and determination in it that only the Apache possess. It pleased him that even in captivity her spirit could not be broken.

  “Tree Song, I did not make you a captive. I do not even care for the Pitters. I am myself, but twenty five winters old. And bitter have been my dealings with the Pitters.”

  “Then why do you do their bidding?”

  “It is better to let a bull think he has power over your cape, until the time is right for the kill and only then does he feel your blade. Someday, I shall wash my hands of them altogether, but at this moment, you and I are fellow travelers on this murky stream of life. We should enjoy all its pleasures, because there is so much that is not pleasurable.”

  She shook her head emphatically. “No, I cannot think to have pleasure when I am away from my people.”

  “Beautiful daughter of the Apache, I will never take anything from you that you do not willingly give. I ask only to enjoy your company this one time.”

  When she still looked doubtful, “Search your own heart. If you feel like you cannot trust me at any point feel free to leave and I shall not stop you.” He grinned. “Besides, I had this special antelope steak prepared just for you. Do you want it to go to waste? He saw that she was torn. Her eyes searched his and he considered them the most precious jewels, like some brown amber fire that instantly inflamed his soul.

  After a moment her soft lips curved into a smile and she said, “Then I shall eat with you, El Capitan.”

  Chapter 17 : Turtle Duck Arrives in the Thick of the Tumult

  The billowy white sails of the huge belly ship looked like the wings of some giant swan coming up the river in the bright sunlight of early afternoon. The Overo was being drawn up towards the signal fire that Ary and Khem had been manning on the west bank of the Aber Gael River of Chartreusea.

  Yorel and Siwel stood next to Ary and Khem, watching in utter amazement. Their jaws dropped and their eyes froze in a fixed stare at the ship dropping anchor. At the first sight of the Overo, the young bloods came running and waving flags.

  “It’s even bigger than the one we watched breaking on the rocks during the vision quest,” Siwel exclaimed.

  Yorel shook his head, “I don’t understand how anything that big can possibly stay afloat.”

  Khem went over to a pack and pulled out two different flags, one red and one white, then stood on the river’s edge sending a signal that it was safe to come ashore. Soon the porter boats were being lowered from the belly ship. While others were being loaded with passengers, one of the porter boats headed for shore with Turtle Duck standing in the prow.

  Bnimin put down his oar and yelled out, “Hail Khem and Arundel. How did it go? How was the adventure?”

  The young Tyrchild, brother to Fairchild and Sunchild, called out from the boat. “Where are my brothers? I thought they’d be here to greet me. I have a goodie basket for Sunchild from Sarah Beth, his fiancée. And I’ve been guarding it from these hungry wolves ever since we left.”

  Ary declared. “Just put the basket on the table in the command tent and I’ll see to it he gets it.” Ary pointed to his tent.

  Khem yelled back, “Hail, you sorry looking excuse for sailors. We’ve made many discoveries.”

  Beaching his boat, Turtle Duck, sprang ashore, darted a curious look at the two green boys before greeting his friends with hand shakes.

  Ary had forgotten how much the old Cherokee resembled a fierce eagle with his beak like nose and sharp eyes. He smiled. “Os-Frith, Turtle Duck, You are a most welcome sight for a traveler’s eyes, if ever there was.”

  “Os-Frith, Prince Arundel. Os Frith, Black Khem. And who might these colorful lads be?”

  Ary beckoned the boys closer. “This is Yorel and this is his brother, Siwel. Their father is the chief of their tribe. They are called Chartreuseans, and they get their color from a drink called ‘Ka’ that makes them green. We encountered them in our expedition and have made friends with their village leaders.”

  “I can’t say I’ve ever seen the likes of such a folk as them before.” Turtle Duck said with a raised eyebrow. “And I’ve been from one end of heaven to the other.”

  Khem said, “According to their history, they’ve always lived here on this isle.” The boys nodded as if bewitched by Turtle Duck’s commanding presence, never breaking their stare. Smiling to himself, Ary tried to imagine what it would be like to see Turtle Duck for the first time with his long arched nose, raven black hair, colorful head band, oiled buckskins, and ivory choker about his neck.

  Bnimin, the twelve year old Jywdic sailor boy who was the cousin of Ary’s fiancée, Machbah, jumped ashore. “What did you say they drink to make themselves green?”

  Khem answered. “It’s called ‘Ka.’ They are born with the same color of skin as you, but at eight winters they begin drinking it and it turns their skin the color they call chartreuse.”

  Bnimin appeared fascinated. “I’m just picturing what that drink might do for crypsis.”

  Khem nodded. “I’ve been thinking maybe they can concoct a brew to make me white or red, or even green. They are leaps and bounds ahead of us in medicines and herbs, you know.”

  “Khem, I ought to slap you for saying that,” Turtle Duck said. “Every race must set its own value, for it cannot be set from without. This is the first time I’ve ever heard you say anything about your color. I can obviously see that you are black, just as you see I am red, but perceive that my skin color makes no difference to you, just as yours makes no difference to me. You dishonor your people when you wish to be something you are not. Your people put up one of the strongest fights of any group I’ve known against the Pitter Empire. That’s why there are so few of you. If I were black, I’d be damned proud of that.”

  Ary quickly piped up, “Khem, you are family. Just like Yellow Horse.”

  “I know you all mean that. You’ve never been the only one of a kind in any group, so you don’t know how it feels. Honestly, I always think of myself as a Quailor turned Herewardi, until I look in the mirror, and then I am reminded of how different I look from everybody else. Seeing the Chartreuseans made me feel keenly aware of how much color changes my perception of someone.” Turning to Siwel, Khem said, “No offense, but you look so different that it’s made me conscious of how others must view me upon first seeing me. It makes me feel very separate and disconnected.”

  Ary nodded, “You know Khem, you have a point, but just the other day Long Swan was telling me that his great intellect has done more than color, rank, clothing, or wealth in separating him from people. He told me that once people discover how powerful his mind is they immediately place him on the other side of the fence and don’t connect with him again. He said it has made him accustomed to a life of loneliness. Only when he is in the company of other lore masters does he feel free to express himself and let the glory of his intellect shine without self-consciousness. Perhaps that is the way it will be with you. Maybe you, like Long Swan, will need your own people to blossom fully. I can only tell you we very much appreciate you and all count you a dear friend. At least you have Annie, just imagine how lonely Margot feels when even the two of you don’t visit her.”

  Khem looked jolted. “Thank you, Ary, for pointing th
at out to me, I’m probably one of those who put Long Swan on the other side of the fence. It’s just intimidating to be in his presence when he lets loose with that intellect. It’s like walking out of a dark cave on a sunny day. And what you said about Margot strikes true. How lonely she must feel. Truly, I’ve wanted to spend more time with Margot. Ann just won’t allow it. You have no idea how jealous my woman is of me.”

  Turtle Duck interrupted, “Alright, alright, you two are starting to sound too much like my wives when they get to talkin about fixin the world. All I want to know is where in the Hell that yellow haired, leaf counter, Xelph is?”

  “He’s off on a hunt for Long Swan’s betrothed and most of the young bloods have gone off with the hounds to to track her down. That’s why there are so few young bloods here.”

  “Perhaps, young prince, my hearing is going out on me.” Turtled Duck frowned. “Did you say Long Swan’s betrothed?”

  “That’s right. He found a Chartreusean woman, whom he very much loves. It is believed a former lover has kidnapped her. Khem and I have been stationed here and were told to wait until they all return. So, here is the place to wait.”

  “So the dam finally broke. It’ll be right curious to see the fellow heat up again after his long self-imposed vows of chastity.”

  Khem chuckled. “He’s beyond white hot already. I’d say close to melt down, wouldn’t you Ary?”

  “That’s right. You wouldn’t recognize him anymore, Turtle Duck. He dances and sings. And not just hymns. When he catches sight of her, he smiles so widely, I fear his face will surely crack.”

  As the porter boats shuttled the crew of the Overo ashore Ary briefly described their expedition through the south lands. When he was finished, Turtle Duck took Yorel and Siwel aside to discuss the lay of the land while Ary took the opportunity to talk with Machbah’s little cousin, Bnimin.