Sur Sceaf had to blink to come back from some immeasurable distance in a future vision. “I felt much the same way and there will be time enough for exploration after we get our foundation settled and the land enclosed. For now, join me for breakfast, and we can discuss how we should go about exploring this isle. As more and more people arrive, we are going to need maps so as not to get lost.”
“We will have to spread out for elbow room. It’s going to be tight for a while, I’m sure. Nothing breeds contention faster than heat and no personal space.”
The two of them entered into the log hall filled almost to capacity where instead of Elijah and Herman cooking, several Quailor women were busy preparing breakfast. Enticing smells of bacon and flapjacks permeated the rustic rudimentary kitchen. Sur Sceaf and Arundel sat beside Elijah and his wife, along with Elf Beard and his wives at the plank tables adjacent to the other Hallers. Mendaka was standing nearby and joined in the welcoming. He was entertaining the arriving pilgrims with stories while Going Snake and some of his friends from DiAhman were busy knapping flints. Mendaka began describing the great fortress Muryh had envisaged and how it was to be made out of stone like unto the one Pyrsyrus had built in the Sand Wand Islands.
Mendaka went on to describe how the Herewardi were like the tale of the three pigs. “The first generations built their houses out of straw, many got eaten. The middle generations built their houses out of sticks, they got driven, and this generation will build their houses out of stone. When the Pitter Wolf comes to Godeselle, this time he will huff and puff, but never be able to blow this house down. They blew them out of the Firginias, they blew you out of Taxus, but they shall never blow us out of Godeselle.” His sharp dark eyes looked towards the heavens as he described the beauties of Godeselle and the hopes the first crew had envisioned.
All at once Elf Beard the Grey jumped up, wide eyed and head cocked, “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”Arundel said. Everyone looked around with puzzled expressions.
“Hounds, I hear hounds and they’re my hounds, by Os, they’re mine!”
Elf Beard raced out of the hall with Sur Sceaf, Arundel, and Elf Beard’s wives in tow. Turtle Duck stood outside with Elf Beard’s sons coming toward them, each holding a line of hounds. Old Grokk was bouncing with joy. He greeted his dogs warmer than he had his boys the night before.
Turtle Duck laughed. “Your wife, Elaine, thought it should be a surprise.”
“Oh thank you Turtle Duck, thank you, thank you, thank you! I have sorely missed my dogs. Wish to hell they had been with me in the caves against those damned troll-kats.”
Turtle Duck frowned, “Well, to tell you the truth, Elf Beard, there’s going to be a slight carrying charge.”
“Sure, I understand. How much do I owe you?”
“It’s my boy, Degataga. He’s almost old enough to go on a vision quest and I told him you’d take him hound hunting. Would you do us this favor?”
Elf Beard smiled big, “You put him on the next hunt. That’s a promise.”
The hounds surrounded their master, wagging their tails and licking his hands, as happy to see him as he was to see them.
Turtle Duck laughed. “A great many of us slept down on the beach last night and I didn’t want to bring these hounds up last night for fear they’d keep everyone awake, so we just kept them leashed on the beach till this morning.”
Fork-Beard, Elf Beard and Elaine’s eldest son, said, “You can thank Turtle Duck that he made a special effort to squeeze your dogs on the boat with his horses. He said he was tired of getting pigeon messages of your bitching and moaning over not having your dogs with you.”
Sur Sceaf laughed. Elf Beard the Grey had bred hounds all his life and it was an extension of his quest for freedom. His pride was in these tri-colored foxhounds that could pull the fur off any bear, lion, or grass beast for that matter. They were the best hounds to be found anywhere in Herewardom and they would be an immeasurable aid in pushing back the wild threats of this land.
“We’ll leash them tonight and then I’ll build them a kennel tomorrow,” Elf Beard said as he addressed and petted each hound individually. “I’ve got a lot of dogs, if you know what I mean!” Everyone roared with laughter at the understatement.
Sur Sceaf was still laughing over all the dogs when he said, “What the hell, we’ll be coursing monsters with these hounds soon enough.”
Arundel held his hand down for the hounds to sniff. “How many dogs do you have, master Elf Beard?”
“Twenty-six!”
Elijah, who was petting the black and white one Elf Beard called Pilot asked Sur Sceaf, “What is the fascination everyone has with the number twenty-six in the Herewardi culture?”
“The number twenty-six is sacred to the Herewardi people as it is two times thirteen, the number of moonths, which carries a doubled magical meaning for us. You know our belief that the moon emits magic and power to us. Well, this doubles the powers of the moon.”
“Now I understand. It’s kind of like the hexads we have and the cherubim on the ark.”
Sur Sceaf was about to respond when he heard a familiar sound. Glancing up he saw two ravens swooping down from Copperhead Ridge where they watched from the crest of the hall roof. Experience had taught him to take omens seriously. So eagerly, he looked around for the Grand Elf, Ygdd-Yung. If Odhin was present he chose not reveal his whereabouts—at least in no way Sur Sceaf could clearly discern for the master of disguise did things his own way.
Sur Sceaf bent to pet Chalk Dog, “Elf Beard, it pleases me to see your hounds. Not only will they be helpful during the explorations coming up, but they will give warning of unwanted predators and the number of guards can be greatly reduced. There is no better way to train young men as warriors than that of chasing hounds. I want you to breed many more and if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, Brekka has requested the two red-eared white ones.” Sur Sceaf and Elf Beard repeated their mantra together in unison, “Hounds for war, pigeons for peace.”
After all the excitement with Old Grokk and his hounds, Sur Sceaf and the rest of the Hallers lined up to welcome all the new arriving settlers who had spent the night out at sea and were just now being led up from the ships. Eventually, Pyrsyrus, Mendaka, and Muryh joined him and together they stood near the hall and greatly marveled at the number of craftsmen, many with their wives and children. Elfwin led the settlers to the camp assignments.
Muryh remarked on the amount of tools and implements packed in crates that had been unloaded and placed in his mason’s tent. He took the list Turtle Duck had handed him and checked off this group of craftsmen. “Elfwin, take Long Swan and the craftsmen to my allotment, Neorxenawang, and set them to task on my manor with all due haste. When the next crew of Hickoryan craftsmen arrive I will direct them to my estate, as Karl sent a message that he wanted me to become very acquainted with their laird and leader, Jon Dee Lee. I’ll try to make it there to give them their instructions this evening, but they can at least get their camp set up there. Give them this map which Flammalf sketched so that they will learn the outlay of the manor and their relationship to the settlement here at Godeselle. Don’t want anybody getting lost.”
“I wouldn’t mind having a look at that map myself.” Pyrsyrus said.
“Well, I’ve set Flammalf to making numerous copies so that we can pass them out to all the leaders here. We’ll have the young skalds make more copies as needed.”
“That was foresightful of you,” Pyrsyrus said, “Are you ready to get started on the kingdom building?”
He flashed a grateful look at Pyrsyrus. “Yeah, well I wish Father had been a little more foresightful when he sent all these settlers here. I would have preferred to have just had the craftsman. Whatever on ea-urth am I going to do with all these women and children to protect? I’m not even sure we can protect the men from the creatures of this land.”
“Don’t go hard on our sire, Surrey,” Pyrsyrus said as he placed his strong hand firml
y on Sur Sceaf’s shoulder. “I’m here to help you and you know Father wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t have full confidence in your ability to handle anything he throws your way. I can tell you, he and the Roufytrof are fully invested in your success here. They bit on it harder than a catfish on a crawdad. The king feels we are in a mad race against the Pitters and he and the Roufytrof decided it would be in our highest and best interest to accelerate the growth of your kingdom as fast as possible before the Pitters discover how to master the seas.”
* * *
Xelph along with Muryh and Mendaka, halted where Sur Sceaf stood greeting the new arrivals. He reported, “My lord, we are simply running out of enough space to tent all these people. I have to help Zrael corral these goats and sheep, situate the bee hives, heel in my own trees, and then I’m supposed to assist Muryh in establishing the tent cities in the order he outlined beyond the mound. I need more help.”
Sur Sceaf could understand the young blood’s frustration with the overwhelming tasks at hand, he was feeling some of it himself. “I will send someone else to assist Muryh with the tents. You tend your work. We shall all be camping for a quite a while yet. Remember in the beginning of the trek things went rather rough and chaotic in the beginning, we can expect some of that now.”
Muryh took his measuring cane and struck the monolith. “Hopefully we’ll have the cabins and homes finished by winter before the rains come. Things should go well with the fortress and the palace. We’ll be working on stone top for the most part, so not much mud to bother us or bog us down.”
Long Swan who was leading a massive band of Hickoryans up from the beach, stopped to hand Sur Sceaf some letters from the Roufytrof. In his other hand he handed over some maps.
“With this map Flammalf gave me, I’ll escort the masons, carpenters and craftsmen to their camps near their fields of labor.” Long Swan saluted and moved on.
Sur Sceaf opened the pouch and sorted through the letters until he came to the one with the royal seal. He read it silently.
“My father says, he has sent out proclamations and a mandamus that all skilled craftsmen are to report so as to migrate to the isle to assist us in building up this city-state. I do not think we will be wanting for either laborers or settlers. Sur Spear estimates by this time next year there will be upwards of seven million settlers here.” Sur Sceaf glanced up from the parchment. “By the hairs on Seaxneat’s head, I’m going to need a shoe horn to fit them all in here.”
Mendaka observed, “We’ll simply have to spread out into the plentiful surrounding lands. We can build communities around the lake and the water sources and have them enclosed in no time at all.”
“Make it so, Mendaka and Muryh. And make sure there are wooded girdles around every enclosed community. I particularly do not want indiscriminate cutting of timber. Mendaka, find us a good master of the mark to control the timber harvests. We want everything to be livable.”
Hour after hour, drove after drove of new settlers pressed past the megaliths. Sur Sceaf had just taken a short break to refresh himself. When he returned, his gaze was drawn to the long caravan of Hickoryan pilgrims, led by his beloved old friend, Karl Throckmorton, the Hickoryan peddler and merchant with his oxen drawn wagons full of wares. He was a mountain of a man standing in a large band of Hickoryans whom he had been entertaining. Karl had grown a silver streaked beard since last they met and now he had more grey running through his hair, but as always, he was of pleasant demeanor.
Sur Sceaf told Mendaka and Muryh, “Before we left, I spoke with my father about these Hickoryans. He said they constitute a band of highly skilled artisans who have heard of the great freedoms the Herewardi provide. They have obtained Sur Spear’s permission to live among us as equals and are directed to employ their skills on building my estate and other projects. They shall be of great use to all of us. Come! Let us go greet Karl together. The Roufytrof said in their letter that Karl bears some important gifts for me from my father.”
They walked over to the well-dressed Hickoryans who politely stepped back to let Sur Sceaf approach Karl. Sur Sceaf called out, “Karl, my good man, it is so good to see you here. I hope you and Betsy will some day make it your permanent residence. And when there is time, you must tell me of your adventures in the lands to the east.” He turned to either side, “You remember Muryh and Mendaka.”
“Oh, hell yes, very well, Muryh the palace builder and Mendaka, your shadow.” The men laughed. Karl took Sur Sceaf by the shoulders and gave him a bear of a hug. “Lord Sur Sceaf, it is so great to see you again my old friend. I was telling these Hickoryans how you and I took a krug of high desert ale when we were young bloods and how after we drank our share you smashed the krug against a rock and shouted, ‘An offering to the gods’.” His laughter boomed and Sur Sceaf joined him.
“We were wild colts, weren’t we my friend.”
“That we were.” The smile left Karl’s face, “As for your inquiry of the east, I have been to many lands and among many peoples. The Pitter yoke of oppression grows heavier by the day. Sadly, things are appearing worse everywhere and I no longer carry the influence or respect a trader was once afforded. The Pitter Zongas are now just military camps designed to grind out every bit of sustenance in a land and devour every people in their path. Under this new emperor, Hryre Seath, the Pitters have increased in their abominations against anyone who thinks differently than them. To this end they have granted near equal status to the new converts they are calling Dominikers. These Dominikers are mostly Yengish traders, but they hunt for apostates, heretics, dissidents, and have become particularly suspicious of all foreigners from the west.
“Inquisitions are now a daily event. There is quite a resistance movement against Pitters building up among the Hickoryans, Citriodorans, and the Mexus who have come to see the Herewardi as their only hope left for possible deliverance.”
“It surprises me it took them this long to realize we are a blessing to them.”
“Your pagan polygamy and heathenish ways put them all off, my friend, but they have had enough experience with the Pitters and their henchmen, the Dominikers, to place those issues on the back burner for now. The Dominikers would have the people believe they are the champions of free agency, but if it is not their way, there is no other way, for they are the only authorized dispensers of thought and action the Pitters allow. That term, free agency, always scared me anyway. It’s such a deceptive term, often a mere screen of deceit to veil a hidden compulsion. In the end, compulsion always backfires. But they don’t understand or simply don’t care about that. It’s universal control they seek. Surely then, their hypocrisy has long been known. I am grateful for the rebels in the Firginias and felt their protection when I moved among them. In my telling of the tales of the Herewardi I found many of the Hickoryans of the Firginias had already formed their own enclaves desirous of moving to safer havens. This band here is such a one.”
“Who is the high-browed, tall one there?” He gestured to a group of men who appeared to be mountaineers dressed in green-dyed buckskins.
“That is Jon Dee Lee, the laird and leader of the Shenandoah Hickoryans and his people.”
“Oh, so that is who Father said, he wants me to develop a close relationship with so that we can win the hearts of the Hickoryans to our cause.”
“I think, my lord, he is already wedded to thy cause. You’ll find he is the best of company and you will enjoy his hospitality. The lovely lady with him is his wife, Hebe Duff Lee, a true southern belle. Betsy and I have become close friends with them and I find Jon an upright seeker of truth. That young tow head, dressed in green, beside him, is his handsome son, Ruhm. The boy is smarter than a whip. They are a noble breed, Sur Sceaf, come from the same area my folks came from in the North Mountain region of the Shenandoah.”
“Sad that the Hickoryans must leave their lands. I have heard they are so fertile,” Mendaka said.
Muryh sighed, “The strangle hold of the Pitter government is eno
ugh to make anyone leave.”
“All freedoms are drying up in the east, my friend. The Pitters have started abolishing the private ownership of land and raising the taxes on the land to the point one is a virtual serf. And as you know, a man is only as free to the extent that he has private ownership. The Pitters are masters at enforcing one right, while at the same time stripping you of another right. If you take away private ownership one is always a debtor and, in fact less than a serf, a slave. The more far seeing Hickoryans have left. That is, they were forced to leave the lands they loved, if they choose to be free. Some though have joined the resistance fighters of Hoor in the Mountains.”
“Hoor, who is that?”
“Hoor is from the Roaring Springs area in the mountains of northern Firginia who leads an active guerrilla band of freedom fighters throughout the Appalachean Mountains. To a man, they are tougher than raw hide and more cunning than weasels, but they live a hard scrabble life with few comforts and move about more than tumble weeds in an autumn wind.”
Muryh appeared intrigued, “Skilled craftsmen are always welcome, particularly if they are freedom loving, principled men. We will see to it they receive their proper allotments of homesteads on this isle.”
“They will be most grateful, master Muryh. If I may continue, though you get workers out of the deal, this exodus and resistance may be a bad thing. I’ve heard it said, that the Pitters are actually encouraging the exodus.”
“But why would they do that?” Muryh asked.
“Their ultimate goal is to kidnap and steal as many of the young women as possible to sell to the Growling, while enslaving the rest in their labor camps. It saves them feeding and transporting slaves. All they have to do is lie in wait for the fleeing refugees who arrive in the Midlands where they fall upon them with shackles, chains, and whips. And then work them at the point of a spear.”
The Isle of Ilkchild (The King of Three Bloods Book 4) Page 28
