Atla shouted, “It’s Brono.”
Holding up her skirts she raced down the pavilion steps toward the approaching horsemen. The other maidens, all but Lilly, followed and ran along the horse train to locate their families.
Va-Eyra turned to Wose, “You can take credit for these happy families.”
One of the men riding in the front leaped from his horse and ran toward Atla. When they met, he scooped her up in his arms and kissed her long and hard.
Will this be what it’s like when I return? Wose wondered. How will the queen receive me?
Wose leaned over to whisper to Va-Eyra, “My dear, I see it is time for me to fade into the background.”
“As you wish Wose, but it is my wish that someday you will stand here not as my consort, but as my king and my equal.”
A feeling of deep longing ran through him. “You seem to have done very well without me.”
“In that you are sorely amiss. I’ve shouldered this responsibility alone, for far too long.”
They were still smiling as Atla and Brono walked arm and arm toward the steps of the pavilion. Accompanying them was a burly middle-aged man dressed in the traditional forest green Hickoryan leather great coat with brown lapels. A gold badge with a hickory nut device and framed by hickory leaves was pinned just below his left shoulder, signifying that he was the chosen leader of the Hickoryans. The nut advertised that they were too hard a nut for the Pitters to ever crack. Additionally, he wore a soft leather slouch hat with a flamboyant sorrel horsehair plume. Hurrying to catch up to them was a portly bearded man, whom Wose recognized as none other than the jovial merchant Karl Throckmorton with his wonderful wife, Betsy. Along side the Throckmorton’s strode a fine-looking young man of about sixteen winters who looked to be of Herewardi royalty, but was definitely Hickoryan. They all stopped at the bottom of the steps before the guards, who bracketed them with crossed spears, waiting the queen’s approval to approach.
Wose would know the son of Aegthjiof anywhere. The spitting image of his brilliant father, Brono was a stocky dark haired young man with a dark beard and elevated forehead. He was one of the youngest of lore masters, like Long Swan, both around twenty four winters. After completion of this commission, Brono would likely be appointed, along with Atla, to the Roufytrof and be part of the rising generation the Kings Council was grooming under Sur Sceaf’s advisement. The mere fact that he had been appointed an ambassador by Sur Spear lent great weight to the respect he touted. The queen signaled Brono to approach. Brono walked up to the steps with Atla clinging to his arm, and accompanied by the Hickoryan leader.
Atla said, “My lady, Queen Va-Eyra, permit me to introduce my beloved husband, Brono, son of Aegthjiof the Rune Singer.”
The queen said, “We are pleased that you have arrived safely and from what my eyes judge, none the worse for the wear.”
After she led them through the gates, Brono knelt on one knee, saluted by drawing a fist and striking his left breast before rising and saying, “Os-Frith, my lady, I am so grateful to be under the jaguarundi aegis of the Desert Queen. The strength of Herewardom is always a most welcome sight after wandering through hostile nations and unyielding deserts.” He smiled as he looked down at his wife. “You can’t even imagine what hell I went through, thinking you were captured by hell-rats. I already had your funeral planned.”
“And you can’t even imagine what joy it is to be back with you again, my love,” Atla smiled, “not knowing what your fate might have been.”
“Os-Frith, Brono,” The queen said. “The jaguarundi banner flies for such as you. We welcome you back to a nest of Herewardom where you can rest your weary feet before taking flight from us.”
Turning toward the green clad Hickoryan leader Brono said, “My lady permit me to introduce to you, the most honorable Jon Dee Lee, wagon master and clan laird of the Winchester Hickoryans and his lovely wife, Hebe Duff Lee and their young blood son, Custus Ruhm Lee.”
“Welcome, esteemed Laird, and refined Lady Lee. We know well the struggles and tribulations the Hickoryans have had coming west and we are pleased to offer you our sanctuary and protection during your sojourn at Fort Rock.”
Jon Lee knelt on both knees and said, “Great lady, your name stretches as far as the skies to the east and into the Shenandoah. Both your hospitality and charity precede you among many nations. Some of us even wondered if you weren’t an oppressed people’s myth and yet here you stand before us in the flesh.”
“And I have heard of your name, Jon Dee Lee, a champion of human rights and constitutionalism, principles for which we Herewardi are well-known. We welcome you as a brother.”
Looking pleased the Hickoryan leader arose and stepped aside to allow the queen to welcome the merchant and his wife.
She noticed Karl still had his head bandaged. “I am pleased to welcome you back, my dear friends.” She smiled warmly at Karl and Betsy Throckmorton. “You certainly need no such introduction here. I can see from your bandage, as Lilly told me, you had tried to defend them. I shall have my nurses attend you. We’ve arranged for quarters and we shall accommodate you with supplies and fodder. Betsy and I shall have much talking to do, so as to catch up on one another. If there is anything you require, let our stewards know. Settle in. Make yourselves at home. In honor of your safe arrival I’ve arranged a celebration in the hall at the fifth point of the medicine wheel this evening.”
Betsy smiled and nodded.
Jon Lee once again bowed to the queen, and said, “We are so delighted to have such hospitable friends and only too glad to lend our strength against the evil spirit that now plagues all the nations of man.”
* * *
The ship known as the Raven had been anxiously searching for the Honey Bee for over eight hours with no success. Raven’s Tongue was exasperated. He slammed his fist down on the railing of the boat. “Damnit, where are they? We can do no more than pursue the course we last saw Sur Sceaf set before disappearing into that damned fog bank. We must continue forward, but daylight is fast running out on us.”
With a sinking heart, Long Swan looked up from his journaling. Neither Raven’s Tongue, nor Makah, could be sure of what was ahead or even what direction they may have veered in the pursuit of Old Nick. None of Sur Sceaf’s crew were seamen and only Elf Beard had the remotest knowledge of the sea.
The pull of the ocean current was ever southward and had grown with a stronger yaw, hour by hour. Raven’s Tongue had discerned by use of the sunstone the course that Sur Sceaf might have set, which was likely south by southwest. After checking the sunstone once again, Raven’s Tongue turned to Makah. “If the current is pulling us southward, perhaps it also pulled the Honey Bee in the same direction.”
Makah looked thoughtful. “Are you suggesting that we stop fighting the current and allow it to take us where it will?”
“It would be a gamble. By changing course, we might miss the Honey Bee altogether, but on the other hand--”
He was interrupted by an excited shout from Shark-Moon-Boy, “Land ahead!”
At the same moment, rising through the fog was an ominous towering wall of rock before them.
“By the Saxon and Red Man gods, he’s right,” Yellow Horse exclaimed. “Look at the size of those cliffs, will ya!”
Long Swan leaped to his feet and rushed to the bow. The wizard stared at the blurred view of what appeared to be stone cliffs rising into the sky.
“By the gods!” Raven’s Tongue exclaimed. “Old Grokk and Khem once told me they spotted what appeared to be land out here and I just dismissed it as a large iceberg. I’ll never hear the end of this. At least we have hope Sur Sceaf’s crew is here, somewhere abouts.”
Long Swan gave that penetrating look of a deep thinker, “And knowing him, he couldn’t resist exploring such a find. This could be a valuable military asset that he would want to secure for an outpost.”
Govannon asked, “Raven’s Tongue, would you recommend we discontinue the search and beach here
for the night. After all, there’s really not too much daylight left in the sky.”
“Before I do that, I’d like to search farther to see if we can locate the Honey Bee.”
Long Swan was still scanning the land. “Those cliffs are going to drop darkness on us in an hour or two before the usual sunset.”
Raven’s Tongue said, “I suppose you’re right, but I just want to ride the current a little longer. Pyrsyrus would expect it of me. Now, everyone search in all directions. Sing out the moment you see anything unusual.”
After Raven’s Tongue rode the shoreline for about a league going due south according to the sunstone. Long Swan was increasingly alarmed that they had not spotted any signs of the Honey Bee. But also found himself completely absorbed in the forested crest of the towering cliffs. He had a growing feeling that the gods had some other purpose than whaling to have brought them there. If the gods steered the Raven here, it is likely they brought the Honey Bee as well. “Raven’s Tongue, my breast is burning with Ur Fyr. I believe it is needful for us to stop here and explore.”
Raven’s Tongue frowned. “You are starting to sound like Pyrsyrus. Fortunately, I have come to learn over the years that there is something to this Ur Fyr business you Herewardi have.”
He ordered, “Oarsmen, make for shore.”
The keel of the ship cut through the surf until it struck the sand. Turtle Duck tossed out the anchor, and declared, “The ends of the earth, I’d say.”
“More likely an island.” Raven’s Tongue told him. “We’ll moor here, make camp, and try to get some bearings while we search the beach for Sur Sceaf.” Turning to the alchemist he said, “Govannon, I’m going to ask you to select our campsite.”
Govannon answered, “I’d be glad to do anything to get out of this damned boat. Wizard, would you and the boy accompany me.”
As Govannon and Shark-Moon-Boy made their way into shore, Long Swan placed his journal and writing supplies into a waterproof sealskin pouch before jumping out of the boat and following Govannon to shore.
Half the crew leaped out of the boat one by one. Other crewmen handed down the baskets of food and the supplies needed for making camp.
After walking back and forth along the beach, Govannon pointed out a sheltered cove with a freshwater spring just above it. “This looks like the best place to camp. There’s spring water trickling down from the cliff, it protects us from the wind, and it’s above high tide.”
Long Swan concurred. “It’s ideal.” He turned to the boy, “Shark-Moon, do you think this is a suitable place.”
Long Swan saw the boy’s chest puff up. He scanned the area with his eagle eyes. “I think this place is perfect.”
Govannon smiled. “Well, that settles it then. Shark-Moon, go tell the men carrying the gear and baskets to bring it all here.”
“Then hurry back and help us gather driftwood. We need to get a fire blazing before the night mist falls.”
The boy was off in a flash.
By the time the baskets and gear were all properly stacked, Long Swan and Shark-Moon had a roaring fire going. Herman laid some sturdy logs next to the fire and went back for more. Makah deposited a basket near the others and said, “That’s the last of it, Sir.”
“Shark-Moon, said Long Swan, “would you fetch me some of the pots from the black baskets? Be sure to have the crewmen carry the tripod over here.”
Once the crewmen had deposited the tripod, Long Swan took up the cooking, while some gathered driftwood for the night, and others built lean-tos, and covered them in canvas tarps.
“Now, Shark-Moon, my helper, would you mind fetching me the yellow beans from the white canvas bag in the red basket and a jar that says Epazote?”
“Sure, Long Swan.” He returned in no time at all to hand Long Swan the bag of beans along with the jar of herbs. He glanced over at the sealskin pouch atop a gorse bush and said, “I notice you write an awful lot Long Swan. What is it you are writing about?”
“It’s a journal that tells what we’ve been doing. So that people in the future can have a record of our doings and discoveries just like we read about the events of our ancestors.”
The boy looked intrigued. “Is there anything in there about me?”
“Oh, yes. Someday, generations from now, probably your great-grandchildren will read that Shark-Moon-Boy, son of Turtle Duck the Cherokee was the first to spot this land.” The boy swelled with pride.
Coyote dropped a pile of driftwood on the fire. “Maybe they’ll even name those cliffs for you.”
“Really! I’ll be famous like El and Fae at Maiden’s Head.”
“It’s possible. And who knows what other feats of yours I shall one day be recording.”
Long Swan turned to Raven’s Tongue, “This place has great potential.”
Raven’s Tongue sent Coyote, Yellow Horse, Zrael, Herman, and Govannon to comb the beach southward in search of Sur Sceaf’s crew. Raven’s Tongue, Zeru-Herewardi, Makah, and Turtle Duck then went northward, while the rest of the crew stayed behind with Long Swan to get supper ready and make shelter with the driftwood.
“We will all meet back at this campfire by nightfall,” Raven’s Tongue declared. “You can’t get lost there’s only two directions to go in. So either you’re coming or going.”
* * *
Long Swan’s Log : It is the fourth day in the Moonth of Weeds, known to us of the First Kingdom as the Sun Moonth, the year is 584. We are marooned on an unknown island in the Aurvandilean Sea, approximately thirty seven leagues out in the deep or more by all the guesses of Turtle Duck, Makah, and Raven’s Tongue. We have become separated from the Lord Sur Sceaf’s whaler called the Honey Bee, which was pursuing a large whale they happened to name Old Nick. That is when last we saw them disappear into a thick fog bank. For some reason, sometime after entering the fog, they departed their set course and became lost to us. We pursued them out now darkness has fallen. Tomorrow we will attempt to figure out the best course of action. Let it be recorded that this island was first spotted by the young Cherokee far-seer, Shark-Moon-Boy. The crew took a vote that the cliffs will henceforth be known as Shark-Moon’s Wall.
* * *
After the Rite of the Veil ended, Ilrundel and Lilly spent the day in the marriage bed. The gods had smiled on their union. They had Freya’s blessing. It was a beautiful day in the high desert. The air was cool and fragrant with the aroma of artemisia. Poofy clouds framed the horizons. They left the marriage tent to stand before the swan-rose altar of the queen in her secret garden where they were greeted and honored by friends and family.
Queen Va-Eyra officiated as haeligawicca. “In the name of First Man and First Woman, I pronounce you man and wife to be noted on the records of Herewardom throughout the eternities. Lilly, may you have the blessings of the breasts, and the fruit of the womb bestowed upon you. Ilrundel, may your seed be copious and may your posterity be as numerous as the birds of the heavens and the fishes of the sea.”
Ilrundel took Lilly in his arms and kissed her. The musicians began to play. Ilker smiled at Wose and Va-Eyra, who returned the smile. The queen motioned for the cupbearers and waiters to begin the wedding feast.
The next morning rolled in on a beautiful cerulean canopy. Red-clad trumpeters were summoned to bid the Wose farewell. Wose had crossed impassable mountains in waist high snow, fought off vicious wolf packs on his own, tramped through great deserts without water, gone weeks without food, endured hunger, frost, pesky midges and flies, but never had he done anything so difficult as now saying goodbye to Va-Eyra.
Because of the long distance and the urgency of his mission, Wose did not choose to take his usual means of travel, but rather elected to borrow a horse from the queen’s stable, which Brono was so kind to procure for him from the Hickoryan horse master. The horse chosen was a dappled grey, he named it Sage Fire. The horse was sturdy and durable to endure long days of travel, but also fast enough to elude pursuers and with that dappled color perfectly capable of
blending into the shade of forest and brush.
Brono held the reins on the horse while Wose mounted. Together they rode up to the courtyard with Syr Elf running along beside them. When they reached the courtyard where the queen waited, the boy tugged on Wose’s stirrup, and looked up with pleading eyes, “Don’t go. Please stay.” Never before had Syr Elf looked like his own two sons. Today he did.
Lilly’s tenderness broke that seal in his heart that he thought had been permanently sealed by the blood of his loved ones, allowing Va-Eyra and Syr Elf to enter his heart. Now, without warning, he felt there was no greater load than the load of love he was feeling pulling at his heart like some great sea tide. But the old daemon rose mightily within him and the dark friend called him back to vengeance once again. Wose would glory in the warmth of the queen this one last time, and then he must go before he couldn’t.
He dismounted, kneeled by the child, and hugged him. “Syr Elf, I do not want to leave you, but when you are a warrior, you have to respond to the call of duty. I am bound by sacred vows and oaths to protect and defend our Lord Sur Sceaf. When I return, you and I shall train and hunt together. You can hold me to that.” He took the reins of Sage Fire and placed them in the lad’s hands. “Would you hold my horse while I speak with your darling mother?”
The boy wiped away tears and said, “I’d be honored.”
Wose took Va-Eyra aside. Bending low he whispered, “My dearest Va-Eyra, I will return for you, though the whole of the Pitter Empire and Hellheim stand together in the way.”
The queen looked at him with sad eyes. It was as if her soul was completely open to his gaze and filled with love for him. His urge to kiss her was overwhelming, but he restrained a bit, conscious of all the eyes trained in his direction. As he took a last look into her beautiful hazel eyes, she smiled and reached into the pocket of her robe.
“Just one moment, my love, I have a gift for you.”
She pulled out a maroon piece of silk from her bosom and handed it to him. When he unfolded it, he saw it was a scarf upon which she had embroidered the word, WOSE, in large golden letters.
The Isle of Ilkchild (The King of Three Bloods Book 4) Page 12
