One of the children denied being tagged by the witch. “I tagged you,” Adelwulf said.
“No you didn’t,” Freyafae cried out.
“Alright,” Paloma yelled down, “Aryfae, you are supposed to be the judge. Did he tag her or not.”
Aryfae said, “He tagged her. You have to go to prison Freyafae.”
They resumed their conversation.
“Well, Sur Sceaf did tell me he chose her for her passion. I’ll do my best, but what if it doesn’t work, Paloma?”
“Let’s try those ideas first and if those don’t work, we’ll try something else. You see, Taneshewa, Swan Hilde is a lore master. That means she knows the depths of our history, the rituals, and the goals of our people. It is one of the most venerated positions a Herewardi may aspire to, and yet she still feels lesser no matter what any of us tell her. She’s driven by some sort of daemon to a standard of perfection that is not realistic and that none of us would hold ourselves to. Because she is competitive, she tries to out do us all at the expense of the comfort and joy she is missing. Perhaps, with age, I hope, she will mellow.”
* * *
Wose and Ilker moved slowly toward the towering rock fortress which had sheltered so many refugees before them. All along the trail as they walked through endless sage brush and junipers, Wose and Ilker challenged each other to see how many jack rabbits they could kill for a midday meal.
Ilker commented as he added another rabbit to his belt, “You know how strongly the Sharaka feel about totem animal spirits. Well, I feel strangely drawn to the spirit of the rabbit. It is simply unexplainable. But no matter, they shall sustain us on our journey, and I give the All Mother Elf, Yster, thanks for them.” He paused with a startled look on his face, “Wose, I have been reluctant to ask about my family for fear I shall not like what you have to tell me. But I can no longer restrain myself. And since you did not volunteer, I can only fear the worst. Please, you must tell me for good or for ill.”
“I know nothing of your wives, Ilker, as I have avoided communion with most people, except for Sur Sceaf and my oldest of friends. What I can tell you is your son Ilkchild was adopted into the house of Sur Sceaf and that he highly favors the boy. The last I heard, he had two maidens he planned on marrying. And your son Ilrundel is the heretoga of the fyrds at Fort Rock so you will see him soon. Then I am sure he will be able to answer all your questions.”
Chapter 5 : Into the Den of the Cat Queen
THe walk was long under the warm summer sun with little shade. Wose was constantly scouting the horizons for possible dangers. Wose feared the longer they were outside the safety of Fort Rock the more the danger was of encountering a rat-pack. It was the third day of their rescue and although the women proved hearty, they were still hampered by their abuse, exertions, and injuries to their feet. If he had been alone he would have continued until he could no longer see the trail and maybe even farther than that, but these women needed rest in the worst way.
Lilly declared, “Starkwulf, I believe we’ve reached our limit. I know my feet can’t carry me any farther.”
“It’s a wonder they carried you this far. We shall rest soon. I know of a place where there is a grove of aspen amidst some tall rocks along a clear running stream. It’s a place I have frequented oft. A place with ample amenities and good cover for the night. There will be ample water for drinking and bathing. We’ll camp there for the night and you can get a much needed rest.”
It wasn’t long before he led them up a small mound and down into the hollow of the tall rocks. “Relax ladies, while I build us a fire to warm us against the coolness of the night air.”
Ilker unloaded the pots and utensils necessary to prepare the evening meal.
Wose announced to the weary maidens, “If the gods will, by the end of tomorrow we shall be in the stone arms of Fort Rock. There, you will be under the hospitality of Queen Va-Eyra and the young prince Syr Elf, where you shall be shielded by the mighty fyrds of the High Desert.”
They had not made good time because of the frequent needed stops. Wose had hoped they would have made it to Fort Rock by nightfall but knew this to be a safe enough site to camp for the night.
Ilker gave the jackrabbits and a brace of pheasants they had killed along the way to several of the maidens who set to skinning, plucking, and cleaning them. The sunset and the coolness of the air drew them to the crackling fire as they clustered near its radiant warmth. Soon the shadow of the night pulled the starry canopy over head, and in the distance the coyotes howled. Atla wrapped herself in a blanket while the other maidens told stories, laughed, and groomed one another by doing fishbone braids in each other’s hair.
The youngest maiden, Lulu, said, “Where do you want these pheasants, Ilker?”
Lilly volunteered, “Let me cook those. Starkwulf and you shot them, so we should do our part and cook them.”
“The gods forbid. You look frazzled. Please permit me to do the cooking.” Ilker demanded. “And if you ladies need to refresh yourselves at the stream, you better do it now, while the water holds some warmth. I’ll have the meal done before you get back.”
Soon Ilker had several rabbits cooking on sticks propped over the fire. He began singing a trail song, ‘They call me a tumbleweed, but I once had roots much deeper than these.”
He then warmed some water over the flames and took the pheasant and boiled it along with some camas and sage he had gathered during the day. By the time the maidens returned from the stream the meal was ready.
Lilly piled a goodly portion on a wooden plate and carried it along with a bucket of warm water in one hand, some towels draped over her arm and the plate of pheasant meat in the other. Wose had set himself at the edge of the campfire light scouting off in the desert for any possible dangers.
Lilly walked over to him, put down the bucket beside him, steam rising there from, and moved into his personal space.
“What are you doing?” Wose asked uncomfortable with her nearness.
“Take this,” she handed him the plate of pheasant to eat.
As he stared at her, she began unlacing his moccasins. “What?” he protested as she pulled them off. She moved the bucket nearer his feet, removed a towel from the steaming water, and began bathing his feet with the warm wet towel. He attempted to stand, but she pushed him firmly back down.
She gave him a challenging look. “Just hush up and be still. I am washing your feet. Do not deny me showing you my gratitude.”
“No, no, you mustn’t.” Wose squirmed under the uncomfortable attention. He thought of how his daughter, Orchid, used to wash his feet. She was so young then. She would have been near the age of Lilly, had she lived.
He was not used to any form of comfort or intimacy. She gazed up into his eyes with a warm smile that like a torch in a dark cave, burnt away all the cobwebs within.
How awfully long it had been since he had looked into the pools of his daughter’s eyes, or felt the glowing warmth of such gentle hands.
The Wose wept.
* * *
Everyone had fallen asleep hours ago. The Wose stayed awake, watchful from within a stand of junipers. He intermittently cried throughout the night. His emotions were swelling beyond the stone-fast boundaries he had set for them these many years. He composed himself as much as possible, when strangely, ravens croaked nearby. Wose viewed the entire area and saw nothing, that is, nothing, but the absence of something hanging in midair before him. It was darker than darkness. He reached for his scramasax, struck with terror, for there was a powerful electricity charging the air.
For a moment Wose thought a Dark Elf must be cursing him, and had sent a dark specter to haunt him. His heart pounded and for the first time in a long time, he feared death. Chills ran up and down his spine like water on an icicle. A man parted the branches of the pine thicket. This was at least a creature of the flesh. Wose readied himself to thrust his blade, when the stranger offered him a white lord’s sign of peace. Wose put forth his hand a
nd gave the proper grip as token that they were both Herewardi lords, and it was safe to meet on the level.
Wose let out a sigh of relief as he said, “Had I not seen the sign of the dove and received the token grip, my black shrouded stranger, I should have thought the very Lord of Darkness had come to claim me.”
“Dark deeds make for dark lords.”
“What brings you here, Dark Lord?”
The tall dark figure whispered, “I am going to and fro in Middle Ea-Urth seeking to destroy the souls of the wicked, and bring vengeance to the slain kith and kin we are sworn to avenge.”
“It is noble to avenge the blood of kin. I perceive you to be a wose such as I. What be your name, my good man?”
“My name is Fury, though some once called me Wold. I am come to this land to avenge the blood of the sons of my son, Wecta. And I have come to see that my friend Ilker has been spared your wrath.”
“He is safe and well, Black Wose. Stay this night with us, and you may speak with him in the morning.”
“No. I must away. Knowing he is well, is well enough for me. I come also to speak with you, and give you a gift. I am aware of the daunting task of slaying the many wicked. I was there in the Pitter camp with you. I rode through with the night hunt, slaying and slaughtering with my wolves. I needed only to secure the harvest of a sheaf to lay up against a day of wrath that is coming. Soon, I shall be off to other lands and other kin.”
“My thanks to you. Though I regret not having slayed the Cha’Kal.”
“All is as it should be, Starkwulf of Zamora. The Norns have made it so. What they weave shall not be unwoven. You have done well.”
Beneath the dark stranger’s words lurked a depth of darkness, hidden knowledge, mystery, and purpose such as Wose had never heretofore sensed in anyone else, nor could he fully discern how he knew this. He only knew that the old one, Wold, spoke with full authority, in a language close to his own heart. Wose wondered if he would one day be like this man, an old and dark lord.
“Who are you? How do you know my name?”
“Though I have but one eye, I see many things. I am ancient, and yet listen as a youth. When I sit in silence, I can hear sheeps’ wool grow, and when I travel, I hear everywhere of the woondigo.
“After tonight, my good friend, you shall not know me again for a long time. Mark my words, for after tonight your heart will begin to turn in you.” The Black Wose grasped Wose in a royal embrace, and as he did so, Wose felt an energy go from the chest of the old one directly into his own, as clearly as if a hand had reached inside of him and turned his heart another direction.
Wose fell to his knees. He felt like he had entered a strange new world, a plane of another dimension, such as is entered during trance states.
“Be free,” the Black Wose decreed, “for your cup of vengeance is full. Let your heart be unbound, and love unfettered, as you did in happier days.”
* * *
At first light, Wose sat pensive, wondering at his encounter the night before. A few feet away, Lilly was curled up in her blanket still asleep. He considered what life would be like if he were to have a family again. Forcefully, he shook his head. Must keep focused! War is yet on the horizon. Moving silently, he strode to a deep pool beyond the vision of the others, bathed in privacy, dressed, and prepared for the day.
Once everyone was awake and they all had breakfast of rabbit and oats, Ilker re-dressed the feet of the girls, and Wose broke camp. At the request of Jamie Lee, Wose whittled down the top of the crutch and padded it with rabbit fur to make it more comfortable for the young Hickoryan girl. Under a clear sky they set off down the dusty road to Fort Rock. Long before they reached the fortress, Wose caught sight of the jaguarundi banners flying above a cloud of dust in the distance. The fyrd far-seers had spotted them, and Queen Va-Eyra had sent out an advanced guard. Soon the members of the elite otter cat rangers of the fyrd appeared directly ahead. Their captain called a halt.
“What a bedraggled lot you bring today Wose. Whatever befell you and these lovely ladies out there?” He motioned toward the wilderness.
“Os-Frith, Beeilk, where is your heretoga today?”
Captain Beeilk looked to the east, “Os-Frith. The young Lord Ilrundel is patrolling the eastern desert today. He is not far from the fortress. And who are the ladies of your company?”
“These are maidens from Redmond who were beset by Pitter captors. I have been given to understand their families were to sojourn at Fort Rock before they were to trek to Witan Jewell. But I have more urgent information to communicate to your heretoga.”
“Understood,” Captain Beeilk said. He turned to his silver harrier, “Hammerschild, go report to the queen that we have twenty-two guests, and that the Wose leads them.” Then turning to the other silver harrier, said, “Lieutenant Geschwind, I command you to ride to the eastern desert and report to the heretoga that Wose has urgent business to communicate to him forthwith. Request he meet us at the fortress.”
Wose noted that Beeilk gave a pointed look at Ilker. “This gentleman here is a captive named Butter Nut Green, whom I rescued from the Pitters.” Wose said, “Thank you Beeilk. Now if you will be so kind as to have twenty-two of your cavalrymen double up, we will commandeer their horses and you may escort us to Fort Rock with all due haste.”
Wose and Beeilk’s men helped the maidens to saddle. Then they all rode off from Buzzard Run with the rangers. Lilly rode behind Wose and Atla behind Ilker.
Lilly asked, “What sort of banner is this fyrd flying?”
Wose said, “It is the jaguarundi or otter cat, the totem animal of Va-Eyra, the Cat Queen.”
“So that is why they call her the Cat Queen.”
Coming upon the fortress was like riding up to a great wall that stretched from the ground to heaven. Mighty oaken gates lay open before them. Inside the gates they were warmly greeted by the Queen Va-Eyra whose heart Wose knew was always filled with compassion for the lame, the halt, the mad and insane, and the blind who sought refuge under her kind hand, which stretched far into many kingdoms. The name of her hospitalers was known in every kingdom of the lands to the west of the Middle Sea.
The eloquent queen stood dressed in her high backed silver robe with her jaguarundi cats on either side. The boy Syr Elf stood next to her, waving at the Wose, overwhelmed with excitement to see him. When they dismounted, the queen said, “Os-Frith, my dearest friend, Wose. I see you have once again brought us some road weary pilgrims to feed and shelter. I shall prepare a banquet for all this evening. Until then, I will give you time to bathe and groom. My handmaids will attend the women’s every need.” She turned to the women. “Os Frith, ladies. I heartily welcome you to Fort Rock. My stewards and healers will attend your wounds and will bring you all fresh clothing so that you can discard those tattered garments. In the meantime, I am sure you will want to rest from what appears to have been an arduous journey.”
The queen signed for the stewards to escort the maidens to their quarters, then carefully studied the curiously green-clad stranger who stood silently before her. With great solicitousness the stewards escorted the maidens off to the infirmary.
Now that they were alone, Wose said, “Most Noble Queen,” he raised his eyebrows, “allow me to introduce Butter Nut Green, a captive of the Pitters who assisted me in rescuing these maidens. I would ask you to please extend unto him all courtesies.”
“Of course, Wose, my dear.” She stepped forth to offer her hand. “Os-Frith, Butter Nut, it is always a great pleasure to welcome our Hickoryan allies.”
Ilker took her hand, knelt down, and placed it to his forehead. “Os-Frith, my dear Eyra.”
The queen stiffened and jerked her hand free. She studied him carefully for a moment before saying. “It cannot be.” She stumbled in her words as she walked around him giving him a fair up and down look, “Yet his noble carriage, the mere vigor of his body, and his thick golden hair, say it must be so.” She approached closer while staring deeply into Ilk
er’s eyes.
Ilker stood up and said, “Is the daughter of Sur Spear so blind that she does not recognize her dear cousin anymore? Just because he does not wear the royal braids or don Herewardi clothes, am I any less of king’s blood because of it?”
The fyrd warriors looked at each with puzzled glances.
Recognition crossed her face and she cried out in joy. “By the Holy Queen of the Elder, it is Ilker the Green Knight, risen these many years from the dead!” She flung herself into his arms and embraced him tightly.
Syr Elf exclaimed to Wose. “Can it really be Ilker, come back from the shadow.”
“It is indeed, my lad, preserved and restored to us by the hand of the All Father.”
The fyrd rangers gasped. Beeilk’s jaw dropped in disbelief. It was difficult for them to comprehend how this was even possible, given the stories and beliefs of the last four years. To his surprise, Wose found the whole experience very rending to his heart for he thought no loss could ever be restored, and here he witnessed it before his very eyes.
The queen wiped away her tears with a handkerchief and told Ilker, “Blessed of Hrus-Syr-Os, blessed of the Elf Mother Yster, the blessings of the gods have shown us this day that nothing is impossible anymore.”
“It is a queer thing to return from the dead.” Ilker admitted in a gruff voice.”I have spent four years in Hell, and now my heart is bursting at my rebirth. It is almost like I’m awakening after a long nightmare.”
Wose comforted him, but in some ways felt much the same way. “You will sort it all out, my friend. A new day is coming to us all!” It was the first utterance Wose had given of hope for himself in many years, and the queen registered it.
Ilker said, “Please have the heretoga of your fyrd attend me in my room before dinner so that I may be alone with him when he discovers who I am. It would please me greatly if you would assist me in that endeavor, Wose.”
After the queen’s stewards assisted Wose and Ilker to their rooms. Wose trimmed his hair and beard, and luxuriated in a hot bath, then dressed as a Herewardi gentleman in brown leather pants a white blousey shirt, a deep red sash, and a fluffy white cravat, all provided for him by order of the queen from the wardrobe of her deceased husband, Rus-Syr-Os. Sur Sceaf would laugh to see him all dressed like a dandy, and he laughed aloud as he looked into the mirror at the strange man he had not seen for so, so long.
The Isle of Ilkchild (The King of Three Bloods Book 4) Page 6
