From the Shores of Eden

by Shelley Penner

  Corandi approached the tower, pausing to investigate this strange structure almost as tall as the trees. He ran a hand over the rough stone blocks, then opened the heavy wooden door a crack and slipped inside. A single lamp shone in the center of the interior, casting a small pool of radiance that did little to alleviate the gloom. A stairway spiraled around the inner walls toward the cavernous vault of the ceiling, presumably to a rooftop access. Corandi crouched against the wall, testing the air like a wolf, listening for any hint of occupancy. The lamp rested on a carved stone slab, throwing its surface into sharp relief. Satisfied that the building stood empty, Corandi stepped closer to study the altar, finally recognizing the twisted, curving lines and ridges as a map of Tolmai territory, spanning a broad sweep from the Aharon mountains to the sea. Tapered wooden posts curved inward from the corners of the carved slab, supporting thongs that suspended a glittering shard of crystal above the map. He studied the arrangement from every angle, trying to understand its meaning and purpose. Finally, he shrugged, closed his hand around the crystal and ripped it from its cradle. It would make a perfect trophy.

  Yaramin headed for the front gate, where he lifted the heavy bar and laid it on the ground. He swung the gate wide, then hurried to unbolt the stable door. He could smell the aurochs inside and hear the slow grinding of teeth working its cud.

  “Brother Aurochs, I have come to free you,” he whispered.

  Starlight reflected dimly in its eyes as it turned to look at him, but it made no inspired dash for freedom. Taking a firm grip on his courage, he sidled into the stall. It stopped chewing and snorted at the wild scent of him. Daringly, Yaramin reached out and laid his hand against a warm flank.

  “Brother Aurochs, it is better to die fighting for freedom than to let them enslave your soul. Go. You are free.”

  The animal sighed heavily and began chewing again, perfectly content to remain in captivity. Puzzled by its apathy, Yaramin left the door of the stall open in case the beast changed its mind. He ran next to the sheep pen and made an opening in the thorny enclosure.

  “Come, brothers and sisters, you are free.”

  A ewe bleated inquiringly. Yaramin stepped into the pen and moved toward the resting animals. His unfamiliar presence unnerved them, and they scrambled to their feet, scampering away, blatting loudly. They skillfully avoided his clumsy attempts to direct them toward the opening. He lunged and flapped his arms at them, and they darted away to huddle in another corner. In the distance, a door slammed and voices began shouting. Yaramin made one last desperate try, grabbing a handful of wool and dragging a single animal out of the pen, hoping the others would follow. The Tolmai stampeded towards him, yelling and waving torches. One of them spotted him and gave a rallying cry. Yaramin dropped the ewe and sprinted for the gate, hoping his friends would escape unnoticed in the turmoil. Not wanting to lead pursuit in their direction, he ran with every ounce of speed he could muster, downhill toward the river. The mob spread out behind him as the chase quickly separated the swift from the sluggish. By the time he reached the bridge, Yaramin could hear only two sets of footfalls close enough to worry him. Without hesitation, he dove into the racing current, letting it sweep him away faster than any man could run. Behind him, he heard a single splash as some fool followed his desperate route. With powerful strokes Yaramin added extra speed to his progress, but he knew he could not let the river carry him for long. This early in the year it remained frigid with meltwater, and he could already feel the chill seeping into his vital organs. When he felt his spirit threatening to leave him, he crawled out onto the bank, a good distance downstream from the Tolmai settlement. The trees hung over the shoreline here and he hid himself beneath their shelter before pressing himself to the earth, drawing on the energy of the Mother for warmth and strength. He dozed lightly but jerked awake when he heard splashing and gasping from the water’s edge. A Tolmai dragged himself from the river and flopped on the bank not more than three body lengths from Yaramin. After a while the stranger’s ragged panting eased and he sat up.

  “I know you are there, thief. I can hear your teeth clattering.”

  Yaramin tensed and withdrew deeper into the shadows, clenching his jaw tight.

  “Has the hunting been so bad the Dana’ai must resort to stealing sheep?”

  Yaramin bit back an angry reply, refusing to let this man trick him into revealing his position.

  “Perhaps the Dana’ai are cowards as well. You can run like a deer and swim like an otter, yet you skulk in darkness like a jackal, refusing to justify your actions. Speak to me, thief, I would hear your defense.”

  “I am not a thief. How does one steal that which cannot be owned? I tried only to free my animal brothers from enslavement.”

  For an instant the Tolmai remained silent, then he laughed softly, and Yaramin suddenly realized the man had not felt so sure of his presence as claimed.

  “And how do you free the son from the father? We care for our flocks as we care for our children, protecting them from floods and predators, seeing that they remain well fed and sheltered from storms.”

  “And do you kill your children and eat their flesh?” Yaramin rose silently and circled eastward.

  “The male lambs die for us on the tree of El. Their blood makes the ground fertile for the new planting. The ewes and goats give us milk and wool for cloth, but only in times of great need do we eat them.”

  “And the aurochs? Did you do him a favor when you turned him into a barren cow?”

  The Tolmai’s head turned quickly to follow his voice, but Yaramin was already gone. He threaded his way soundlessly between the trees, confident that these Mother-cursed sheep herders would be incapable of trailing him even in daylight. In any case, he would have at least half a night’s lead.

  * * *

  The long jog back to town rekindled the warmth in Ja’pheth’s blood. He didn’t regret that the Dana’ai had escaped, for the youth had done no real harm, and he would have been cruelly mistreated. Yishay waited at the gate to let Ja’pheth in.

  “We felt concerned for you.” He looked terrified.

  “The Mother worshipper was little more than a boy, Yishay.”

  “Yes, but we’ve learned he had two companions. We found ropes. That is how they climbed the palisade. Enoch and Adin woke to find blood all over their house, and a sickle missing. And…” Yishay’s eyes slid away and he shivered.

  “What?”

  “Everyone has gathered in the temple. They wait for you.”

  “Yishay, tell me!”

  “The Dana’ai desecrated the temple. They have taken Eban-ha-Ezer, the Rock of the Covenant.”

  Ja’pheth felt as if an aurochs had kicked him in the stomach. “El preserve us.” He helped Yishay bar the gate, then together they hurried to the temple to hear the words of the elders. The room looked packed when they arrived, noisy and pungent with anger.

  “Doomed,” Enoch moaned. “We are doomed! The blood was a sign.”

  “Silence!” the high priest thundered. “You whimper like children afraid of the dark! Have you no faith? We are the Chosen People of El, the One God, the only God. He is the Rock of our salvation.”

  “We must pursue the thieves and take back the Rock of the Covenant!” shouted Khanok.

  “Yes, and teach those animal worshippers a lesson!”

  “Wait, wait!” The old stargazer rose to stand beside the high priest, his demeanor humble and pleading. “This is not a good time to shed blood. The signs are all against it.”

  “Are we to allow the Dana’ai to steal our most holy icon then, without a fight?”

  “I say only, go and speak with them,” the old man begged. “Perhaps they would be willing to return the Stone, if only they understood its importance. They might be willing to trade for…for woven cloth and sheepskins.”

  “Aye, my father speaks wisdom,” Ja’pheth said. “The one I followed into the river was but a youth. Chances are they
only came for adventure, trying to prove their manhood. They probably didn’t realize the significance of what they took.”

  “But what about the blood?” Enoch demanded. “Blood all over my house, even on the beds where we slept. Was it not a warning?”

  “Aye, perhaps it was a warning that you should drink less curden and sleep less soundly.”

  The high priest held up his hands for silence and all eyes fastened on him, waiting for his guidance. He let a long moment of suspense add weight to his pronouncement.

  “Send messengers to the villages of Eytham and Dagon. Ask for men willing to fight. We must retrieve the Rock of the Covenant and punish this sacrilege.”

  “No, Miz’rahim!” the stargazer protested. “You know not what you do!”

  But no one listened. The young men felt eager for this chance to prove their strength and courage. Twelve volunteered immediately to take part in the raid. They sent out runners bearing the message that the men of Eytham and Dagon should meet them in Aharon Pass.

  * * *

  Amasa hurriedly gathered weapons and a packet of food his wife prepared for him. She watched stoically, offering no protest. A woman had no right to question her husband.

  “My son, I don’t want you to go.”

  “Father, how can I walk with pride if I do not support my friends in battle?” Amasa cast an accusing glare at his older brothers, Shem, Ja’pheth, and Ham, who stood silent, arms folded in disapproval. “Should I stay home with old men and children, tending sheep? The Dana’ai defiled our temple!”

  “The temple is only a building; the Rock is only a rock…”

  His sons gasped at this blasphemy.

  “…but if you kill the Dana’ai you will defile the temple of your spirit! Their blood will cry from the earth with a voice the stars will answer. It will put a stain on your soul that can never wash away except through the blood of sacrifice.”

  “They are our enemies, Father. I am going to fight for what I believe in.” Amasa turned to the door, but the old man caught his arm and held him.

  “Once they were our brothers, and now you are going to kill them for your own pride and glorification.”

  Amasa jerked away and slammed out the door. The old man sagged.

  “Go with him, Ja’pheth. Try to keep your brother from dishonoring himself and his family. Perhaps when these fools are footsore and hungry and far from home you will be able to reason with them.”

  * * *

  With the skill of a stalking cat, Corandi crept up behind the woman. She sang softly, dabbling her feet in the lake as she plaited her hair into seven braids, each as thick as her thumb. Bending forward, she looked into the mirror of the water, her back as strong and flexible as a bow stave. He smiled as he watched her weave a pebble into each braid, for he loved the way her heavy plaits swayed with each movement, accentuating her grace. He had never seen a woman more beautiful.

  “Aester!”

  She whirled, eyes going round in surprise and delight. “Corandi, you’re back!” She glanced around quickly to make certain they remained alone. “Come,” she said, reaching for his hand. He followed willingly, around the lakeshore and deep into the forest, to a hidden place where an old rockslide made a cave-like hollow around a stubborn oak tree. As soon as they felt safe from prying eyes, she flung her arms around him and writhed against him with a hungry moan. “I have wanted you so badly! I thought you would never come back.”

  He chuckled, pleased by her eagerness, and laid her down on the cushion of moss. They peeled the clothing from one another like children peeling succulent fruit. His mouth and hands explored her softness with a hunger that only grew as it was fed. The hard scion of his manhood rose to her touch as a healthy plant rises to the sun. She opened to receive him, and he sent his taproot plunging deep into the moist, earthy depths of her. He slid his hands beneath her shoulders and lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his hips, and they came together, as perfectly complete and united as flesh could become. In the cradle of their oneness, they rocked each other, slaking a thirst older and deeper than time itself.

  “Well,” she said teasingly, “I see the Tolmai did no harm to your manhood.”

  In the warmth of their sated passion, they nestled together, sharing the forbidden sweetness, both young and beautiful, he betrothed to a seven-year-old child, she married to an old man with two other wives.

  “Osh, but we felt a little worried about Yaramin. The Tolmai chased him into the river, and we lost him for a while.”

  She sobered instantly. “He remains safe and well?”

  “He claimed he was in one piece when he caught up with us, but he wouldn’t give us a peek to make sure. Perhaps you should try.” She punched him playfully for his teasing, and Corandi chuckled, reaching over to rummage through his discarded clothing. “I brought you something.”

  Delight shone in her eyes as she accepted the crystal, the thickness and half the length of her little finger. “It is beautiful!” She held it up to the light. “Look, it has a rainbow inside!” Impulsively, she unfastened one of her braids and discarded the stone weight, replacing it with the crystal, skillfully weaving her hair around it until it remained completely secure and hidden. “There,” she said, “now your prize becomes a secret part of me, and as long as we both live, I will remain your trophy.”

  * * *

  Aester hurriedly filled a woven grass carry sack with wild onions and mushrooms before returning to the village alone. Tanitess, her eldest sister-wife, accepted her gatherings gratefully and did not question her absence. The older woman noted with amusement the way Aester’s eyes strayed toward the young men playing a rough-and-tumble game with a stuffed aurochs bladder. Secrets rarely survived long in such a small, close-knit community. While the Dana’ai solemnly revered marriage bonds, they also believed the three faces of love must be observed for balance: mai, the nurturer; rash, the passionate; and kamu, the divine. Extramarital love affairs often became necessary to fulfill the needs of the individual and were overlooked as long as the lovers remained discrete. Aester felt lucky to have a tolerant, elderly husband and two sister-wives to keep his mind from jealous suspicions.

  As Soavak’s First Wife, Tanitess guarded his woman power. The bond she shared with him endured twenty years and saw five children raised to adulthood. When age brought a painful stiffening and swelling to her joints, making many tasks difficult, Tanitess suggested that Soavak marry again and bring a younger wife into the vadu to share the chores. He brought her Aester of the Fentu’dana’ai, the Antelope People, and the two women loved one another from their first meeting. The motherly wisdom of the old woman eased a need in the girl, who had recently lost her own mother to sickness, and Aester’s energy and enthusiasm allowed Tanitess to see the world once more through young eyes. Then recently, the death of Soavak’s brother had obligated him to take his brother’s widow as a third wife. Sefandi seemed a timid, slightly addled woman whose mind lived in dreams of the past, giving her a confused, often comical manner. The entire clan regarded her affectionately as a puka, a living person who walked half in the spirit world.

  Sendekka stopped by with a deer hide and a share of meat for his father’s house. Aester settled to stretch and scrape the hide while Tanitess prepared the evening meal. Sefandi rocked and hummed tunelessly, her sewing forgotten as she gazed upon scenes only she could see. Shortly, Aester’s friend, Wynwilla, strolled over to sit and visit while she nursed her baby.

  “Have you heard the news? Manukain brought back a new weapon, a horrible-looking thing with a blade like a crescent moon, made of some strange, smooth stone. It is sharp as a serpent’s tooth. He took it from the Tolmai town.”

  Though she had already heard the story from Corandi, Aester feigned surprise and wonder, sharing Wynwilla’s justifiable pride in her husband’s prowess. “And what prizes did the others bring back?” she probed.

  Wynwilla shrugged. “Nothing as far as I know. In fact,
Yaramin almost got caught. Have you heard what the Tolmai do to men they capture?” She shuddered and went into a graphic description of torture and mutilation. Aester smiled, only half listening, acutely aware of the weight of her swinging braids. So, Corandi had told no one of his trophy. It remained a secret shared with her alone.

  * * *

  The thrush that usually woke Aester with its song remained strangely silent this morning. She stretched luxuriously, enjoying the leisure of a slow awakening. Her husband and sister-wives still slept, snoring softly. Lighting the morning fire and cooking breakfast were Aester’s tasks, so she rose and donned her doeskin shift, then sat for a moment, smiling dreamily, with the weighted end of a braid pressed against her lips. She heard an odd noise outside…whisht…thwuck. The sound repeated. A shout, then a scream, broke the still morning air. Soavak leaped from his bed and snatched up his weapons, shoving Aester aside as he lunged for the entryway. He threw back the leather door flap and staggered, sitting down with undignified abruptness. Aester almost laughed, but then he toppled onto his back and she gaped at the arrow protruding from his chest. She smelled smoke. The tumult outside escalated into pandemonium. She crawled to the opening and peeked out. The world had gone insane. Bodies lay everywhere, transfixed with arrows. People ran, screaming in panic. Many of the vadu burned and everywhere brutal strangers hacked and slashed, killing anything that moved. Behind Aester, her sister-wives clung together, cowering in terror.

  “What is it, Aester, what is happening?”

  “The Tolmai…the Tolmai are killing everyone!”

  Too horrified to look away, too terrified to move, she watched as strange men slaughtered her friends and neighbors, butchered whole families while they struggled to escape their burning homes. The few men who had not died immediately as they emerged from their vadu fought valiantly but remained far outnumbered. She saw Sendekka desperately battling four Tolmai, trying to prevent them from setting afire the vadu that sheltered his young wife and their two children. Wynwilla ran, clutching her baby to her breast, until an arrow sprouted from her throat and she fell. Tears streamed down Aester’s face. Her terror felt like a trapped bird beating its wings against the cage of her ribs. She felt afraid to run, afraid to stay in the vadu and burn.