The Raie'Chaelia (Legend of the Raie'Chaelia, Book One 1)

by Melissa Douthit

  “Hi, honey. I am so proud of you!” Grandma Naelli said. Her grandmother had once been a dark beauty, but age and the stress of the last six months had worn on her and she now looked older than ever. Chalice glanced around. Papa was not with her.

  She looked at her Grandmother with pleading eyes. “Papa, where is he?” she asked and Grandma Naelli shook her head. Then, Chalice knew and it felt like an arrow piercing her heart.

  No, not Papa! Not him!

  “You mean we left him up there?” she asked and her grandmother shook her head again.

  “No, honey. He didn’t make it out of Canton. They caught him at the pigeon cages. They tried to get information out of him and when he didn’t give it to them, they … they …” She stopped, unable to continue, tears streaming down her cheeks. Chalice hugged her grandmother fiercely. After a long while, she eventually let go.

  “Gramma, you need to get some food and rest.”

  “No, Chalice, you do,” Jeremiah said softly behind her. She hadn’t even heard him walk up. “You also need to have Bunejab tend your shoulder. It’s soaked in blood again.” Chalice glanced down and found that he was right.

  “What happened?” her grandmother asked.

  “Oh, I just got cut,” she replied. “It’s not serious.”

  “The apartments are over there.” Jeremiah pointed. “I’ll go get Buney.”

  “Gramma, this is Jeremiah,” Chalice said. “Do you remember him?”

  Her grandmother eyed the young man who towered over her with an expression of wonder. “Jeremiah?! You have grown! And into such a tall, handsome young man!” She reached up and placed her hands on his cheeks as he smiled down at her.

  “You want to come with us, Gramma?” Chalice asked her.

  Grandma Naelli turned to her and shook her head. “Not right now. You go ahead. I’ll stay here with everyone for a while and help the sick.” Chalice frowned at her in protest, but her grandmother insisted. “Really, honey, I am fine. I’ll join you later.”

  She finally conceded, and giving her grandmother one last hug, left. After stopping by the stable to gather her bags, she headed for the apartments. Again, she found that the doors opened for her easily. Choosing an apartment she liked, she left the door open for Bunejab and Jeremiah. After a few minutes, they appeared in the door with Ben and she looked at him curiously.

  “I came for your daieoden,” Ben said.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “I’m going make a cord for it so you can hang it around your neck, like your amulet.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  She removed it from her belt pouch and handed it to him. He took it and left. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the little Chinuk. Glancing down, she found him standing at her side in anticipation, pointing to her shoulder. She smiled.

  “Alright, hold on, Buney. Let me get cleaned up first. I’ll be right back.”

  All she wanted was to get away and have a moment to herself. The idea of soaking in a hot bath was soothing and she was impatient for it. As she left the room, she noticed Jeremiah who had placed his saddlebag on the kitchen table and was pulling something out of it wrapped in cloth.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m going to make a stew with some of the vegetables from the green room and dried meat I still have in my bag,” he answered. As he pulled out a metal pot from the cupboard, Bunejab chittered at him. “You don’t have to help me, Buney, but you can if you want to. I would have given you some anyway.”

  Chalice’s stomach growled. “Mmm, stew, that sounds good,” she mumbled to herself and her face brightened a little at the thought of his cooking.

  At least it’s something to look forward to, she thought. I don’t think I can take any more bad news today.

  She strode over to the first bed chamber and waited, expecting the door to open before she touched it. It didn’t move. Puzzled, she placed her palm on the vella and it still didn’t budge.

  Hmm, okay, this is passing strange! she thought and called for help. Bunejab waddled over and placed his tiny hand on the circle. It opened instantly.

  “Thanks!” she said as they entered and he turned on the light for her. When he went to close the door behind her, she stopped him.

  “Wait!” she said. “I think it’s better leave it open for now.” She didn’t want to get stuck in the room with no way out in case she couldn’t open it again. Bunejab chittered something at her and went back into the kitchen to help Jeremiah.

  Then, it suddenly occurred to her why she couldn’t open the door. Ben had her stone. She remembered what he had said when she mentioned that she hadn’t been able to get the vellen to work: It takes a few tries. In the future, your daieoden will help. Nodding her head, she continued into the chamber and set down her bags.

  She found a huge stone bed frame filled with soft sand, a stone writing table and a washroom that she quickly entered. The washroom had all the amenities of the Maehbecks’ house except for wash towels, soda water, and soap.

  Oh well, she thought. I’ll have to do without.

  She peeled off her riding dress and slip that seemed to cling to her body from the dampness of the cold stream through which she and Jeremiah had waded. Turning the left-hand knob above the large stone tub, she filled it with hot spring water, letting it drain at first to clean the dirt that had settled at the bottom. As soon as it had cleared, she plugged the drain with a stone stopper that she had found on the wash table, lying next to a pumice stone that she snatched up as well.

  The water felt good and the warmth seeped into her, relaxing and loosening her muscles and joints. Scooping it into her hands, she washed her face, neck and arms. The pumice stone she used to scratch off all the dirt, grime and dead skin.

  Then, all at once, crushing grief bore down upon her and she let the tears streak down her cheek and fall, one by one, into the water. Her grandfather was dead, her home was destroyed, and she could never go back. She would never have the home again that she had known growing up. It was gone.

  Suddenly, she looked down and noticed a swirl of blood in the water. It had trickled from her bandage that had gotten wet along the edges. So, she lifted her right arm and set it on the edge of the tub. She had to be careful so her bandage wouldn’t get wet and slip off. She knew what would happen if it did. The blood would pour out and she wouldn’t be able to stop it. Then, she would have to call for Bunejab and Jeremiah, which would be extremely embarrassing, she thought, without anything to cover her.

  When she was done, she drained the tub and removed her woolen blanket from her bag. Wrapping it around her, she re-entered the sitting room. Bunejab had a fire roaring on the hearth that he had made with dry wood from the green room. The smell of fresh herbs in cooking stew filled the room and Chalice’s stomach growled again. The velarium in the wall shone softly and the feeling that it gave her was the same she had had in the apartment of Bunejab’s village — that all was right with the world and that there was nothing to fear. It was almost a false sense of security, she thought, as she knew that just above them on the mountaintop, there were men who were, at this moment, searching for her to kill her.

  Bunejab waddled up and set to tending her shoulder. As soon as he had removed her bandage, she saw that it was just as she had thought. The wound had re-opened and blood flowed from it freely. He had to apply a treated compress on it immediately. He held it in place tightly for a few minutes. The compress had an herbal smell and when he removed it, the blood had stopped. Then, Bunejab cleaned the wound and wiped a salve on it that removed the soreness before he re-wrapped it. Frustrated, he chittered furiously while he worked.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Chalice asked Jeremiah.

  “He can’t figure out why your wound isn’t healing properly. He says he’s tried everything he knows,” Jeremiah answered as he set the table. “I think the stew is ready. Are you hungry?” He removed the pot from the oven and set it on the table.

  “For your c
ooking? Are you kidding?” she said and he smiled. “I’ll be right back,” she added and went to dress into her night clothes which were a small cotton shirt and pants that she had brought with her from Canton.

  When she rejoined them, her grandmother was there. They ate heartily as Jeremiah filled in her grandmother on the events that had happened since the raid on Canton. Grandma Naelli was amazed to discover everything they had been through and done to get there. She was very proud of both of them and said as much. She was also grateful to Jeremiah for the dinner he had prepared for them.

  “It’s nice to have someone else do the cooking for a change,” she commented.

  When they were finished, Chalice suddenly felt fatigue wash over her. Swaying, she could barely sit up straight. She thought about how they had spent the whole night running through the fortress and knocking down walls. Although she was young and strong, the effort of it, she realized, hit her like a ton of blocks.

  “I’m gonna go lie down,” she said. “Thanks for dinner, Jeremiah.”

  “Don’t mention it. I think we’re all going to get some shut-eye, too,” he replied, cleaning the table.

  She strode into her bedchamber and laid her woolen blanket over the soft sand in the bed frame. Curling up in the nook the sand had formed underneath her blanket, she fell fast asleep and into the dream.

  A soft blue light radiated from the chamber to her left as she walked down the long, white corridor. She did not turn into the room, however, but stayed her course and followed it to the staircase before her. She knew where she needed to go. She had been here many times before, but this time it was different. She could feel it. This time she would make it.

  She ascended the stairs and walked the length of the corridor to the outer courtyard knowing that she would see the rising sun and hear the cries of the ocean birds overhead. When she entered the ward and looked out over the watery horizon, she found that she could turn around and finally see her quarry behind her after all this time. What she saw, she was not expecting. On the dais, at the other end of the ward, she saw a fair-haired man in white robes, shackled to an altar.

  What is this? she wondered. Slowly, she walked up and peered down at him. He stared back at her, unmoving. She could see the question in his blue eyes. Who are you? they asked. Looking at him was like looking at herself as his eyes, she thought, were a reflection of her own. Unlike hers, however, they were sad and haunted, as if all the despair, desolation, and misery of the whole world dwelt inside them. In them, she could sense the feeling of absolute hopelessness and she felt that she had to do something to help him, but when she reached down to fumble at the chains, her hand stopped abruptly, blocked by some invisible force, and her fingers could not reach. He was completely bound.

  He looked at her as if to say: “It’s no use. There’s nothing you can do.”

  Stubbornly, she refused to accept this. “I will help you. I will find a way,” she said. She had no idea who he was or how she would unchain him, but she knew she would, eventually.

  Then, unexpectedly, the world shifted into darkness and she opened her eyes to see Jeremiah lying next to her, drawing in the deep breath of sleep. He had moved and accidentally nudged her.

  He must have crawled in with me after I fell asleep, she thought and stroked his cheek. Then, she fell back into a deep slumber, not into the dream this time, but into visions and flashbacks of her life at home and of Papa by the fireside. When she re-awoke, Jeremiah was gone and she found herself alone in the room.

  I must have slept a long time, she thought as she felt completely renewed. Yawning and stretching, she rose from the bed and dressed into a fresh outfit. When she found the apartment empty, she left. As she made her way out to the main dome of the city, she noticed that others had settled into the apartments nearby. They had left the exit wide open and she walked out. Proceeding around the Toros Komun, she heard shouts.

  “Hey!” someone exclaimed.

  “How’d he do that?” another added. “That’s not fair!”

  The shouts were coming from a group of people near the fountain. Jeremiah was also there, writing in his notebook. She strode up next to them and noticed that, next to the fountain, a line was drawn on the stone with chalk. Two paces beyond it, what looked like a wide ladder with eleven rungs was sketched onto the stone as well. Three members of the large group held what looked like dark red, marble balls. Bunejab stood to the left of everyone, holding three of the red balls as well.

  “What are you playing?” she asked.

  “Bracketball! You want to play?” the man at the head of the line asked. He was a tall, young man with dark hair and a mustache. He had a comical air about him and his eyes twinkled jovially as he spoke.

  “Chalice, this is Jarrod Baquo,” Jeremiah said. “He, his wife, Cheyenne, and Royce Fetter own the bakery in our village.”

  He motioned to each of them. Cheyenne was a petite redhead with blue eyes and wore a blue country dress. The man next to her, who Jeremiah had introduced as Royce, resembled her as though they could have been twins.

  “Nice to meet you,” Chalice said. “I’ve heard of this game. How do you play?”

  “Well, you see this?” Jarrod said, motioning to the drawing on the ground. She nodded. “Each rectangle is a bracket that has a value in between one and ten. No two brackets can have the same value. We play either with two people, or with two teams, and the object of the game for each team is to roll their three balls into the highest scoring bracket from the boundary line, here,” he said pointing to the line near the fountain. “Once the balls have stopped rolling, the value of each bracket is added up to a total. After each team has rolled, the totals are compared and the team with the highest score wins.”

  “What is the value of each bracket?” she asked.

  “Ah, that’s the trick,” he said. “That’s why we need the arbiter, which in this game is Jeremiah, because we needed a translator for him,” Jarrod said, pointing to Bunejab. Chalice looked over and the little Chinuk grinned at her, his tiny black eyes sparkling with amusement. “The arbiter keeps score and makes sure that no one is cheating. Each team sets the brackets’ score for the other and tells the arbiter, who keeps a record of it. Then, the team who rolls gets three yes-no questions to discover something about the values the other team has placed into the brackets. In answering, the other team can either choose to lie or tell the truth, but not both. They tell this to the arbiter as well.”

  “So how does that help?” she asked.

  “If the questions are skillfully put, you can tell, not only whether or not the team is lying, but you can also tell something about the values of the brackets.” She frowned and he said: “Let me give you an example. Let’s say the team asks: ‘Are the values placed in numerical order?’ and the other team says: ‘No.’ Then you know that they may or may not be in numerical order depending on if they are lying or telling the truth. Then, the team asks: ‘Is the sky blue?’ and the other answers: ‘No.’ Then, they ask: ‘Is the highest value in the farthest bracket?’ and the answer is again: ‘No.’ Then you know that they have chosen to lie and that the values are placed in numerical order with the highest value being in the farthest bracket.”

  “But that’s not necessarily true,” she said. “Because they sky isn’t always blue. At dawn and dusk it is a golden red, on a cloudy day it is grey, and at night it is black. So in that case, they are telling the truth.”

  “Ah, very good! That is correct,” he replied. “That is why you have to be careful in wording your question. In this case, you would need to ask: ‘Is the sky blue during a clear midsummer day?’”

  “Ah, I see. So, it is not just a game of skill and hand-eye coordination, but it is also a game of cunning and deceit as well.”

  “Exactly!”

  “In that case, count me in!” she said and glanced over at Bunejab. “Buney, you playin’ too?” she asked the little Chinuk and he nodded.

  “Yeah, it’s him against all of
us,” Jarrod said.

  “Isn’t that kind of unfair?” she asked.

  “Yes it is!” Jarrod said in exasperation. “Because he keeps winning!”

  Chalice smiled inwardly to herself because she knew why, but before she could say it, an amused voice resounded behind them.

  “Well, the Chinuka are probably the most intelligent creatures in Naeo’Gaea and he is smarter than the average Chinuk,” Ben said. “It’s not what he says that is usually important. It’s what he doesn’t say.”

  “Okay, well, in that case, I’m making up a new rule,” Jarrod said. “I’m calling it the Chinukan handicap rule. Jeremiah, write this down …”

  “You can’t do that!” Royce interrupted.

  “Sure I can! I invented the game.”

  “Yes, you did, but you can’t just make up rules whenever you want,” Cheyenne scolded him.

  “And why not?”

  “Because—” But the reason why, they never found out for Ben gasped loudly and everyone turned to look at him. He was holding one of the balls that Bunejab had handed him and his stone was glowing softly.

  “Wait a minute!” he said. “Where did you get these?”

  “Over there, in that room with the weird altar,” Jarrod answered, pointing in the direction of the strange rooms they had discovered.

  “These aren’t game balls,” Ben said. “They are oriclae.”

  “Uh, oriclae? What?” Jarrod asked.

  “I didn’t think there were any left,” Ben said, turning to Chalice, “but when we were at the Farahs and you had that headache out of nowhere, I had my suspicions. And the fact that they are here tells me some very interesting things.” He paused and scratched his chin. “Very interesting indeed!”

  She could see in his expression that he had the answer to a question he had been wondering for a long time. When he looked up and saw the confused look on her face, he explained.