Wing & Nien

by Shytei Corellian

  Amongst the many possibilities, the one thing Pree K knew for certain was that he’d rather drive himself through with his father’s sword than take the chance that they might follow him and discover those still alive in the depth of the caves.

  He made his choice.

  Laying out his father’s long sword in the deep underbrush, Pree K lodged the pommel between a protruding tree root and a rock then pressed its point into his chest.

  Gazing down at the dull-silvered blade, Pree K listened to the rustle of Ka’ull feet as they began to move down the ridge toward him. His heart raced. Reaching out, he could just reach the cross guard with his fingertips — at least enough to steady it.

  Feeling the tip dip slightly into the hollow beneath his breastbone, Pree K closed his eyes.

  Above him the rustling of the Ka’ull’s moving feet stopped.

  Pree K opened his eyes. He could hear their voices now and they seemed to be discussing something. His breath constricted until he felt light-headed.

  Each moment passed, agonizing in its length, until the patrol’s discussion ended and the crunch and rustle of feet resumed — moving away from him.

  Pree K raised his head ever so slightly. The patrol had turned and headed off to the left of his position. It didn’t take long before they’d disappeared over the ridge and the forest had fallen silent again.

  Pree K assured himself of their departure before taking a deep, shuddering breath and slumping, releasing his grip on the sword.

  A few hundred steps from the caves Pree K lay under a tree — he had lain there for a long time. He had to be sure he had not been followed. That was all that mattered.

  Night came and there he still lay, thin and slack, so hungry that the hunger pangs had long ceased. The woods had grown quiet of all but creature activity.

  It was just before dawn when Pree K finally began to crawl toward the cave entrance.

  He fell into the cave’s blessed blackness. There he remained for another long while. There was no movement, no sound but the far-away trickle of water against the stone of the cave walls. Slowly, painfully, he crawled to his feet and made his way in the dark — he had not needed light to find his way in the caves for many turns now.

  He moved so quietly Jhock and En’t didn’t he’d entered the largest of the caves until he touched Jhock on the shoulder. In the dark, the two younger men listened as Pree K gave them the news.

  “So, we can’t leave,” Pree K said. “At least not for a while. They were a small party, probably a simple patrol, but we can’t risk them finding any signs that we’re here. Maybe they’re expecting reinforcements or searching out supply routes. Either way, it’s too dangerous to leave.”

  “We’ll starve,” En’t said. “We’ll die of thirst.”

  Pree K looked up at En’t. “We’ve got to be very careful. We can’t go out every day anymore. Every two or three is all we can risk.”

  Jhock sat quietly, listening. He was doing poorly. His wounds from the gejn’dy-a attack and the fall into the scree field had become infected and nothing the boys could do would improve them.

  Tortured by the worsening of their already dire predicament, Pree K’s empty stomach turned. Even if he still had the will, he hadn’t the strength anymore for going on the hunt for food. The little water that dripped in through the caves would have to do…for a time.

  And now, worst of all, Pree K thought, we cannot leave. If only we’d left turns ago, back when there were more than a handful of us. Back when we were strong enough to travel.

  But now only Grek Occoju and Mother-Yyota were alive of the adults. Pree K and En’t were the healthiest of any of them — as if that was saying much. Neither of them had the strength to carry those who were still alive.

  Pree K raised his face; their only choice now was to stay. He knew what that meant for the last of them.

  Chapter 81

  Vision Cry

  C hoosing a place for camp their first night out, Wing set to building a fire as Nien went off on the pretense of finding some fresh meat for dinner.

  As the flames took hold, rising higher and higher into the sky, Wing sat down beside it and stared blankly into the bright orange blaze.

  Arranging their sleeping gear, Carly glanced over and noticed Wing looking into the fire, his attention fixed, but not on anything in particular.

  Nien returned just then with a small flightless bird in one hand.

  “Real shame,” he muttered, approaching the campfire. “There’s not even a mouthful of meat on this poor creature.” He sighed. “I went out there to feel better. Now, not only do I not feel better, but worse for having killed the poor thing.”

  Nien tossed the dead bird into the trees and looked at Carly. With her head, she motioned at Wing. Nien’s eyes shifted to his brother.

  “He all right?” he asked quietly.

  Carly shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s been like that since just after you left on your bird hunt. You’ve seen him like this before?”

  “Sort of,” Nien admitted. “I mean, you know, it’s Wing.”

  Carly nodded; more than a few times she’d seen Wing simply disappear — from their reality, anyway.

  And then Wing moved a little. When he raised his face, Nien and Carly were already looking at him.

  “What is it?” Nien asked.

  Wing blinked. “Not sure. I saw something, just a flash.”

  “Of what?”

  “Strange,” Wing said. “Torn clothing and worn blankets. Rock. Faces.”

  “Who?” Carly asked.

  Something shifted in Wing’s eyes. “I recognized Pree K. And a few others.”

  Nien’s brow furrowed. “An image from the past?”

  “I don’t know.” Wing swallowed hard. “It was very dark. I felt fear, despair.”

  Carly studied Wing’s face and saw Nien doing the same.

  “You think it means he’s alive? Pree K, I mean?” Carly asked.

  “I don’t know,” Wing said.

  The three exchanged uncomfortable glances.

  “Hungry?” Carly said quickly.

  “Yes,” the brothers replied.

  Carly dug through the duffel packed by Kate and handed Wing and Nien strips of dried meat. She’d never seen Wing offer anything to Lucin except for a place by his side at night, but tonight, he threw a piece of the dried of the meat into the dark just outside of the firelight and Carly heard Lucin snatch it up. The shy’teh still made Carly slightly nervous; she’d noticed Nien didn’t seem to be any more comfortable.

  Conversation was short as they bit and tore off chunks of the spiced meat and tried not to wind themselves too tightly in all the what if’s surrounding Wing’s vision.

  As the fire began to die, the three finally crawled into their bedrolls.

  In the dark, Carly draped an arm over Wing’s belly and asked, “You all right?”

  Wing curled his hand around Carly’s shoulder. “E’te, I’m fine. Thanks for being patient. I wish I could say more about what I saw.”

  Same old problem, Carly thought, feeling for him. Some saw what Wing had as a gift. She wasn’t so sure. I’m just happy I don’t have it, she thought, hearing Lucin grumble from the dark.

  When Wing and Carly slept together the big cat seemed undecided: Which was the greater pull? The familiarity of sleeping at Wing’s side or his wariness over anyone that wasn’t Wing.

  “Big baby,” Wing said.

  “I’m afraid he’s going to get jealous and chew my face off when I’m sleeping,” Carly said.

  “I’ll protect you,” Wing said, kissing her cheek.

  Carly closed her eyes. Just before she fell asleep she heard the content ‘whuff’ as Lucin finally came to lay down at Wing’s other side.

  Morning melted through the atmosphere and woke the three with its milky white rays leaking through still tree branches.

  Packing the blankets away into the duffels and quickly eating some dried fruit, they were on their way
.

  As usual, they never saw Lucin in the morning, but Nien had no doubt the shy’teh was somewhere nearby, following them through the woods. For some reason, it made him feel safe. He wasn’t sure what Lucin would do should someone the shy’teh did not know came around; still, Nien liked knowing there was another set of keen eyes at their flank.

  The second day of travel passed much like the first: in virtual silence. But as the journey of their feet placed them closer to Rieeve, motion became a healer and their hearts began to follow. On the third day, they were talking again, and by the fourth they’d fallen back into the hearty and familiar rhythm from their past together as inseparable friends.

  A turn and a half of steady travel found them making camp below a familiar peak. Wing glanced up at it as the sun set. On the other side of that peak lay the Mesko forest, and below that, Rieeve.

  Before the sun had peaked over the edge of their continent the next morning, they were on the move.

  Wing broke the crest of Llow Peak first. He stepped out upon its rocky summit. Nien came up behind him and then Carly. Breathing hard, they stood together, looking down.

  Rieeve.

  The wildflowers had begun to die in the fields and the many earthly colours of Kojko covered the scene.

  Wing filled his lungs with air, feeling it course through his body, revitalizing his entire being.

  Home.

  He suddenly wanted to throw himself into the sweet scent of the fields, feel his mother’s arms around him, see his father’s face reading by the light of the fire. He wanted to see Nien arm wrestle Jake and laugh at the innocent look on Fey’s face as she snuck a peeiopi chick into the house.

  Gazing out over the breathtaking panorama, Nien was the first to speak. “Shall we?”

  Retrieving their duffels, the three began the final descent of their journey.

  The Mesko forest lay between them and their family fields, and for Nien and Wing who knew most of the trees by name, the forest folded around them with a great, verdant hug, filling their minds with memories, making it unnecessary to check their way as their feet fell upon the familiar paths they’d trodden with their father since they were children.

  With tender smiles and low voices, Nien and Wing greeted many of the great trees as they passed, but there was only one at which Wing paused, saying to Nien and Carly, “Hold on a moment. I want to check on a friend.”

  Ducking into the familiar root cavern, Wing glanced around at the floor and up at the ceiling, peering into the crags and crevices hoping to spot the furry black spider that had been his companion those first awful turns after his escape. But the cavern was empty and still. He didn’t know how long the big spiders lived, but he hoped it was still alive. And well.

  Nien and Carly squinted quizzically at Wing as they continued ahead. Sunsteps later found them passing into the thin section of hardwoods that bordered the valley. It was just inside the tree line that they finally stopped. They had not seen, heard, nor come across any evidence of Ka’ull troops in the mountains; nevertheless, their pulses quickened as they stood now at the very edge of the valley.

  From within the tree line, the three of them peered. There was no sound other than the breeze. The fields were empty. Wing’s eyes moved ahead to their old home in the distance. He watched. There was no movement about it. No light within.

  Wing checked Nien and Carly. They shrugged. “Looks quiet,” Nien said.

  And then a strange inclination came over Wing. He winked at Nien and suddenly, he was moving. “Let’s go!”

  Nien barked after him; clearly, he’d thought Wing had lost his mind. But Wing felt overcome. Upon leaving for Rieeve he’d thought he’d be sick and uneasy about returning. The truth was he hadn’t wanted to at all. He’d simply felt…obligated. But now that he was here he felt different. It didn’t feet strange, an alien valley as he thought it would. It felt familiar. It felt like home.

  Some of the challak he had planted on that dreadful day in early Kive had managed to survive. With incredibly light feet, Wing sprang amongst the stalks and let himself fall, disappearing into their golden embrace.

  For a time, he lay, panting hard, the challak surrounding him in sweet concealment. He gazed heavenward. Never had he seen the sky so lavender. Here among the challak, here in the fields that would boast teeana in early Kive — Oh, he was home!

  He heard Nien and Carly moving through the dry challak toward him. They were hardly moving with the exuberance with which he’d entered the fields.

  He sat up. They were looking about as if in a trance, it seeming to them both a dream and a nightmare: How could they have returned here? How could they have stayed away so long?

  Wing got back to his feet, the smell of seasoned challak rising up into his head and falling down into his lungs. “I’m going to the house,” he said.

  “Uh, Wing, I don’t know,” Nien said quickly. “That may not be such a good — ”

  “Idea? We didn’t come all this way to hide inside the tree line.”

  “No, but a little caution, brother…”

  “Maybe we should do some looking around first, Wing. Check the place out,” Carly suggested.

  Looking them over, Wing smiled gently. “I will go. Watch my back.” Running his fingers over the tops of the shafts of challak, he took in Nien’s worried face. “I’ll be careful.”

  Nien and Carly watched after Wing as he headed out again.

  Seeing his home in the distance unleashed a flurry of emotions in Wing’s heart.

  Don’t lose yourself in your emotions, Wing silently reminded himself. This is not the same place you knew.

  Nearing the house, Wing slowed to a walk, suddenly starting to share Nien and Carly’s uneasy feelings. He knew it was probably the emptiness, the darkness of the house that made his stomach flutter, but he drew his sword anyway.

  Approaching the front door, he paused and listened.

  No sound.

  Pushing the door open, he peeked around the corner.

  No one.

  He stepped through the door.

  Inside, all was as he remembered it. Dust had collected on everything from the large dining-room table to the small teapot still sitting next to the old wood stove.

  A bit of the tension was just starting to ease out of his shoulders when he heard footfalls behind him. His heart froze; he clutched his sword. The footfalls stopped. Moving silently, he pressed his back to the wall beside the door. Another footfall. Wing drew his sword and unable to wield its length in the doorway brought around the blunt, heavy end of the hilt —

  The door creaked open. Wing stepped out.

  Nien leapt back, knocking Carly in the face behind him. “Wing!” he shouted.

  “Nien!” Wing dropped his hilt. “Don’t be sneaking up like that!”

  The brothers cast each other a frigid glance.

  “Sorry,” Wing said. “Seeing this place so deserted makes me a little jumpy.”

  Nien turned to Carly who was checking her nose for blood.

  “You all right?” the brothers asked.

  “I’ll survive.” Carly wiped at her nose again, sniffing to make sure it was still working.

  The three stood in silence for a time, looking around the house.

  “Well, let’s recon fully or none of us will get any sleep tonight,” Wing said.

  Separating ways, their hands still on their swords, the three moved out through the house.

  A short time later, they reconvened in the main room.

  “Nothing’s been touched as far as I can tell,” Carly said.

  Nien was walking around the main room as if he were in a fine art gallery.

  “It needs some work,” Wing said. “A lot of chinking needs to be replaced; it’s going to get cold here awful fast. Overall, though, it’s not in as bad a shape as I thought it would be.” He held something up in his hand. Nien glanced down at it. It was a wooden whistle — the one Fey had gotten at a festival and, to the dismay of the ent
ire family, decided to play all the way home from the Village. Wing had spotted it peeking out from under his bed in what had been his, Nien’s, and Jake’s room.

  Nien smiled a little. Wing bounced the tiny object in his hand for a moment, then slipped it into his pocket.

  “We should check out the barn,” Nien said.

  Carly and Wing followed him out and the three made their way across the short expanse of thin, browning grass. On the sunsetting side of the barn, they found that all of their domesticated peeiopi were gone, but in their roost a covey of wild hens had taken ownership.

  “You’re gone for a little while and the whole neighborhood goes to shit,” Carly said, winking at Nien.

  The three looked over the wild hens before approaching the barn doors cautiously. One of the doors was askew, two of its hinges broken. Wing went in first, peering into the pale light of the large space. He heard movement in the corner and paused, feeling Nien close behind him. The sound continued, feet scuffling through the hay on the floor of one of the stables. Wing froze. So did Nien and Carly, apparently having heard the same thing.

  Hands on swords, Wing moved to the right as Nien and Carly went left. Wing was slowly raising his sword when a head came up from behind the stall. A pair of horns, a set of watery eyes, and a huge nose snorted at them.

  “Jhei?” Nien asked.

  “Isn’t that your old milk cow?” Carly asked.

  Wing lowered his sword and began to laugh. “Yeefa, Jhei, you about gave us all a heart attack!”

  Wing came around and, stepping into the stall opposite the old cow, grabbed her big whiskery muzzle and began rubbing it. The cow gurgled and munched, big eyes closing with pleasure.

  Nien stepped in beside Wing and began rubbing her down as well, slapping her bony shoulders.

  “Ah horny,” Carly said affectionately. “Leave it to the women to hold down the fort.”

  Wing and Nien slept only a few moonsteps that night before awaking to set out for the castle.

  “Carly,” Wing whispered, shaking her gently, “we’re going now. We’ll just do a quick recon and be back.”