by B A Vonsik
Disappointed at Suhd forsaking his embrace, Rogaan looked about to find a grumpy, greenish-colored Trundiir glaring at him. Trundiir spun on his seat while grabbing a spear lying between them, then made to stand while somehow keeping his balance. Rogaan grabbed the other spear, lying atop his Blood Bow between them, and whirled into a low crouch hoping to keep the boat from rocking worse than it already did. He glanced at Trundiir to see what he intended. Trundiir’s acknowledging glance back, along with his slight hefting of his spear, gave Rogaan confidence the white-bearded Tellen was going to attack. Almost in unison, each sank their spears into the upper snout of the water-dragon. The beast struggled in pain against the spear tips before releasing the boat with a mad hiss as it aggressively pulled itself from the pointed metal tips. The black-headed beast stared at them for a long moment with what Rogaan took as malevolence before sinking into the watery darkness.
“That head was larger than the boat,” Rogaan said in awe.
“Let us make haste to shore,” Trundiir demanded in a low, calm tone.
No one argued as Trundiir quickly returned to his seat and plunged his paddle into the water. Rogaan joined him, soon matching the Tellen’s urgent pace. Aren and Pax too increased their paddling efforts almost as if they were mad with fear. They quickly found themselves within a dozen strides of the dark, rocky beach. Featherwings swirled the air just above them while leatherwings circled higher. Rogaan hoped the winged creatures would leave them be and that their “spot” was far enough away from several smaller, sunning water-dragons so not to provoke an attack as a blending swirl of fear and hope filled him.
Almost there . . . over the underwater drop-off. Rogaan’s fear dissipated as they nosed the boat over the submerged steep ledge separating the vast deep waters from the thin rim of shallows lining all the shores of the Ur. We made it. A reverberating thud below sent the boat lurching upward. Driven down into his seat, then to the bottom of the boat, Rogaan lay pinned as an explosion of fear consumed his thoughts. He gripped his seat and a near rail to keep himself from falling out of the boat just as the wood of the hull breaking loudly filled his ears with a moaning creak. A moment later, the boat splinted apart under him sending Rogaan rising in an arc toward the beach flying wildly while he and his companions yelled. Moments later, the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach ended in jaw-jarring agony as Rogaan impacted the solid sands of the beach before painfully bouncing and tumbling over dark rocks until he flopped and rolled to a stop.
“Aaauucch,” he moaned as he lay unmoving, not knowing when his pains would go away. With his eyes looking up at the sky, he saw that dark-colored featherwing circling high. The place he lay smelled faintly of salt and heavily of pungent decay. A loud cracking of wood and a deep, reverberating hiss forced Rogaan’s eyes open and head up to see it. Looking from his prone sprawl, he found the large water-dragon wading in the shallows violently tearing apart what remained of their boat. When the animal seemed satisfied at having dominated its rival threat, it silently slipped its massive black-and-white body backward off the shelf of the shallows and into the watery dark depths where it resumed its throne as king of its domain.
“Dung!” yelled Aren while rising to his feet not far away from Rogaan. As he did, he danced, scraping off something from his left foot with a stick.
“What?” Rogaan asked the Evendiir.
“I stepped in dung,” Aren answered while focused on his sandals and looking for a stick to scrape away the dark substance sticking to his foot. “Of all indignities, stepping in a large pile of it.”
“It won’t be killin’ ya,” Pax snidely sniped at Aren from the other side of Rogaan.
“It’s in between my toes,” Aren described in detail with revulsion, signifying the seriousness of the situation. “It feels disgusting and stinks.”
“Den, wash it off in da water,” Pax spoke in a disrespectful, dismissive tone. Aren stopped his scrapping efforts to glare at Pax with his hostile eyes clear to see. Pax returned Aren’s glare with his own unfriendly stare.
“All stay clear of the water,” Trundiir growled from somewhere behind Rogaan. “We have need to collect what we can find of our supplies and equipment on the sands and rocks, then get to the tree line.”
Trundiir seemed on edge to Rogaan. Looking about beyond their immediate disaster of an area, both of the young water-dragons to his left were watching them from their sunning spots more than thirty strides away. Both looked curiously at them, in a “scary meal” kind of manner. To their right, Rogaan spied open, dark, rocky beach and craggy rocks with white-colored featherwings covering them. Looking back to his left, Rogaan concluded the water-dragons presented little danger to them while on land. What is Trundiir so concerned of?
“What has you troubled?” Rogaan asked Trundiir as he got to his feet. “I thought this side of the Ur, just to the evening side of Anza, isn’t well traveled with few beasts of the wilds drinking the Ur’s salty water mix. At least, that is what the Makara’s crew spoke of.”
Trundiir gave him a quizzical glance, then went on to gathering their scattered things. Pax and Suhd too were collecting everything they could find. Suhd . . . Rogaan’s eyes lingered on her for a long moment before ripping them away from his heart’s desire. Aren still was cleaning the dung from his foot, now using the large rock he sat on. Trundiir spoke. “We are on the south side of the Ur River. The kind and friendly Wilds of the North are not these lands. Everything here is more . . . meaner . . . the animals, the trees and bushes, the folk, and the soil is rockier and difficult to traverse.”
“Aah,” Rogaan replied as his eyes glanced back to Suhd. She is beautiful. A throat clearing from Trundiir brought his attention back to the Tellen.
Trundiir gave Rogaan another disapproving look. “And a contingent of Anubda’Ner are to join the Tusaa’Ner from those ships. They crossed the Ur by barge two days ago. I think they will join somewhere north of Anza, maybe in Haven. Now, they are anywhere along the road between Shores Landing and Haven or in the small Di’Tij between them. If we are where we think, the small Di’Tij is south by a handful of marches. We must avoid it and all towns. There will be eyes watching for anyone not known to the townsfolk . . . and they will seek favor of the troops by informing on us.”
Rogaan’s eyes and attention trailed away from Trundiir as he spoke, instead, finding and becoming focused on Suhd, in her yellow tunic held to her waist by a wide black belt as she walked about collecting their equipment on the rocky beach. Beautiful.
Whack!
“Auch!” Rogaan immediately rubbed his head where Trundiir hit him with a stick. “Why strike me?”
“Did you hear any of my words?” Trundiir asked rhetorically, now standing close. He tossed away the stick he hit Rogaan with then scented the air taking note of the wind’s direction. “You need to focus your thoughts on what I have told you. You must puzzle together things to understand your surroundings and what we are to contend with.”
Rogaan thought to argue over how much attention he did give Trundiir, but instead, remained silent to mask his embarrassment at not having put the parts of this puzzle together. He decided to swallow his pride a bit and start picking up their scattered belongings. In a short time, all that was salvageable and not in the water, they had. Even Aren decided to join them in collecting their belongings, though he did so while grumbling in large words about the stupidity of sandals and the merits of boots. To Trundiir’s visible relief, they left the beach heading through broken bush over red-brown rocky soil heading toward the forest more than a march away. Aren could not stop grumbling about the rocks in his sandals and the smell that still followed him as they went. Trundiir took the lead, setting a hard pace. He appeared to have all his equipment from the boat, including his carry pack, a one-handed ax, a long knife, and the metal-tipped spear with blue-green feathers he used to stay off the water-dragon. Rogaan lost one of his two quivers of arrows and the other good spear matching the one Trundiir carried. Instead,
he had a stone-tipped spear the Makara crew decided to throw into their boat as they launched from the ship. Aren seemed to have everything as well, a small carry pack he insisted on when they were being given equipment for this journey and the wood walking-stick he took without permission from the equipment rack in the ship. Pax had his carry pack and a long knife on his side. Rogaan suspected he had tucked away more than a few daggers or knives under his clothes. Suhd . . . so beautiful . . . She lost everything in the water-dragon attack except for the blue, brown, and red long scarf one of the crewmen gave her. A twinge of jealousy—no more than a twinge—rippled through Rogaan when the smiling and smitten crewman presented it to her. He still felt the jealousy but did not understand why it held him strongly now that the crewman was far off.
They moved quickly through the broken bush with Trundiir, avoiding the clumps of bushes except to put one or more of them between them and something ahead he attentively spied at a distance before motioning them to move away from and around. Aren followed the Tellen, though with complaints about not having boots until Trundiir said something to him that Aren did not like much. Suhd . . . so beautiful . . . in her yellow dress and red scarf and hide sandals, those last given her by another smitten crewman, made her way without complaint over the rocky ground. Jealously, again, rippled through Rogaan at the thought of the crewmen smitten with her and wanting to give her things. One even offered his long knife and to cut out his heart for her. Insanity. Rogaan was about to throw fists with the crewman on his offer, but the barefooted Baraan was slapped and chased away by the second commander before Rogaan could act. That memory and others like it on the ship harshly lingered in Rogaan’s mind making him angry and with feelings he could not comprehend.
The ground suffered a prolonged shaking, causing Rogaan to trip over a fair-sized rock and had him almost falling. His thoughts returned to the now. Pax looked back at him with curious concern before returning his following of his sister. So, enjoy watching her walk . . . so graceful, Rogaan thought as he followed at the rear of their line with a primitive stone-tipped spear in hand, guarding them from things Trundiir described as meaner than anything on the north side of the Ur. Meaner than a raver. That is hard to believe.
The broken bush filled with fighting tur’usumgal . . . little-dragons and chirping featherwings of all colors gave way to increasing numbers of pine and small-leaf thorn trees. Here, the chirps and squawks from the small animals and the featherwings started to sound like those back home. Rogaan found himself feeling more comfortable with these familiar sounds of the wilds and the trees, except for the thorny branches, especially when they passed by one able to provide a moment’s shade from the warm sun. Aren continued to complain of the rocks and his smelly sandals. Not far after the broken bush gave way to sporadic stands of trees, they found themselves in a forest of tall pines and dense, thorny trees with large-leafed trees in places where it appeared to be wet most of the seasons. Some of the large-leaf trees were just now starting to turn colors. Trundiir led them around the thorn-rich trees and bushes as best he could, but they were everywhere and seemed to reach out and painfully grab any and all passersby. Everyone except Trundiir soon found themselves bleeding from cuts and thorn picks and their exposed clothes ripped and torn. Aren found the thorns to add to his complaints. Not soon enough for Rogaan and the others, they came to a reddish-brown-packed dirt road where Trundiir stopped the group with a raised hand. The Tellen stood motionless, though Rogaan knew he was alert as ever. He soon motioned for them to follow him across the road.
“Keep walking in a line in each other’s tracks,” ordered Trundiir in his deep voice as they approached and crossed the road. Spots were all over the road where it was obvious workers filled in holes and ruts with the reddish rocks of the broken bushlands.
They continued forward and slightly uphill fighting the thorns until Trundiir appeared wavering in decision. Songs of featherwings with their chirping and squawking throughout the forest were undisturbed in their passing and as they stood waiting for their white-bearded Tellen guide to end his visible thinking. After a few moments, he selected a thick grouping of thorny bushes that sat under a large stand of trees offering dark shade. They all followed the Tellen, quietly moving to the uphill-side of the thorny cover where they could see the road, but where Rogaan thought it would be difficult for anyone below to see them.
“What is it?” Pax asked first.
“Not certain,” was all Trundiir answered as he looked for a position to spy through the thick thorns.
“How can you not know what you’re hiding from?” criticized Aren.
“I felt the ground quiver,” answered Trundiir matter-of-factly.
“I felt nothing,” challenged Aren.
“I no feel da ground shake,” added Suhd.
“Tellens feel quiverings and shakings through the ground and stone,” Rogaan answered Suhd’s unasked question. She turned her radiant blue eyes on Rogaan, making his heart skip. So beautiful. She cocked her light brown face slight, allowing her long, black hair to fall over her shoulder. So beautiful. Rogaan became lost in Suhd . . . until he felt a bop on his head. When he looked for what hit him, he found Trundiir with another disapproving, almost angry stare.
“What?” Rogaan asked.
“Finish answering her so she will fall silent,” demanded Trundiir in a low, frustrated tone.
Rogaan glanced about to see what the others were thinking of him. All of them were staring at him with confused looks. Except for Suhd, who wore a mix of concern and frustration on her brown face.
“Well . . . Do ya feel da ground and stone shake?” she asked, evidently for a second time.
“Yes, though I have to touch it with bare hand or foot,” Rogaan answered.
“Did no know dat of ya,” Suhd commented with a knowing smile that melted Rogaan’s heart and sent a tingle rippling through him.
“Would you just stop that!” Aren burst out in frustration.
“What?” Rogaan asked, this time of him.
“Your swooning over her,” answered Aren, as if what he spoke of was obvious to everyone.
“Swooning?” Rogaan did not understand what Aren spoke of as anger welled up within him at anything that might get between him and Suhd. Aren’s accusation at “swooning” was something.
“It’s been stomach-turning watching you swoon and make-eyes every time you look at her.” Aren continued with his description of how Rogaan carried on concerning Suhd. “It’s going to get our Lights taken from us.”
“Dat be enough from ya, mystic.” Pax attempted to stop Aren’s harassing of Rogaan.
“I do not swoon!” Rogaan sounded more defensive than he wanted.
“He no swoon . . . over me,” declared Suhd.
“Enough?” Aren finished Suhd’s thought then focus on Pax. “You’ve been sulking and blaming Rogaan for your parents’ end since the arena. Saw it then, and I still see it now. So, why defend the Tellen brute, now?”
“I no be sulkin’ . . .” Pax sounded unusually unsure of himself. With his voice cracking, he denied Aren’s accusation. “I no blame Rogaan for me . . . ma and pa’s Lights bein’ taken.”
“I am not a brute!” Rogaan denied.
“Rogaan is no ta blame!” Suhd defended him.
“All of you . . .” Aren started to say something but stopped when he received a whack on the head with a spear haft. “Auch. Why did you strike me?”
“Silence!” Trundiir ordered. “Of all days, the four of you choose this moment to argue. Something approaches. Now, be still and do not speak.”
Rogaan crouched in silence, as did the others. Despite anger and frustration on everyone’s faces, all kept quiet, if for no other reason than Trundiir might do more than whack them with his spear. Satisfied, Trundiir returned his attention to the road some one hundred and twenty-two strides away, at its closest, by Rogaan’s estimate. Rogaan noticed the featherwings had gone silent. Was it because of their squabbling or of what appro
ached? Their wait was not long before the faintest noises could be heard of large beasts snorting and stomping at the soil, chains chiming, and the creak of wheels turning under strain. Rogaan pressed his hand to the dirt and rocks to feel what approached. It was large and coming from their left . . . from the west, a caravan with more steeds, wagons, and folks than he could make out in the jumble of quivers felt on his fingers and palm.
“Who are they, Trundiir?” Rogaan asked.
“It must be the Anubda’Ner . . . I know of no other force so large,” answered Trundiir as he kept watch of both the road and behind them to their left.
“Why ya be watchin’ our left?” Pax asked.
“Scouts,” answered Trundiir while alternating his gaze between the road and the hillside to their left. “I hope we are far enough from the road for them to pass below, but I cannot be certain.”
“Why not keep moving deeper into the forest?” Rogaan asked.
“Moving creatures are far easier to see than ones sitting in the bush and shadows,” answered Trundiir as if he was teaching an apprentice.
Rogaan sat silently for a moment thinking on Trundiir’s words. All made sense from Rogaan’s experience stalking animals and tracking wounded prey. It was much easier seeing them when moving than when they bedded down, or worse, when they did so in the deep shadows.
“Ready your bow, Rogaan . . .” Trundiir spoke calmly yet with a sense of urgency.
Rogaan hesitated a moment trying to see what had his fellow Tellen concerned, but then readied his Blood bow with a nocked arrow.
“Do not hesitate if I tell you to kill.” Trundiir’s words sent a wave of discomfort through Rogaan. “Shoot for the heart or head as you would any creature of the wilds. Take the scout quickly so he cannot sound an alarm.”
Rogaan made to protest Trundiir’s request, but then saw his friends’ faces. Pax, Suhd, and even Aren wore looks of concern. And then the sadness in the eyes of Pax and Suhd made firm Rogaan’s decision to hold his protest and do as Trundiir said. He swallowed hard. Other than the Saggis, he never thought in plan to take another’s Light. This was different than back home in Brigum. Few seemed helpful since they left the safety of their home. Most proved unfriendly and hostile. Rogaan readied his bow, but more importantly, he readied his heart and head.