Kiteman of Karanga

by Alfred Reynolds

  "We have to run for our lives," Rolf said.

  "What, and leave the flock to them?" his grandfather exclaimed. "Never!" He rose to his feet unsteadily. "We haven't a second to waste. Turn the flock around and drive them back. If we drive them fast enough, we might make it. Come on, let's go!"

  "Grandfather, wait!" Rika shouted. "Let's take a few seconds and consider what we might do before we go dashing off. If we haven't time to think the situation over, we're lost anyway."

  "You could fly over the Northmen and scare them," Rolf said to Karl. "That would slow them down."

  "They're not afraid of me," Karl answered. But then a possibility occurred to him. "If we leave some food for them, I know they'll stop to eat it. I've been a starving hunter myself."

  "Then we'll leave them one sheep," said Gardo.

  "No, at least ten," said Karl, watching Gardo's stingy grimace.

  "And give them nine sheep for nothing!" exclaimed Gardo.

  "They'll stop and eat!" Karl said. "One sheep would just make them hurry faster to find the flock. I'll drive ten sheep toward them from here so they won't see the tracks of the full flock. When I see the Northmen coming, I'll set up my wing and circle back."

  "Don't circle back to us," said Rika. "Fly back to Eftah and tell Athgar what's happened so he can send help. Meanwhile, we'll drive the flock toward home as fast as we can."

  Karl wrapped up his kitewing while Gardo, Rika, and Rolf sorted out the ten sheep to leave for the Northmen. With help from Rika and Rolf, Karl started driving the sheep along the ridge toward the Northmen. Behind him he could hear Gardo shouting to get the main flock moving back the way they had come.

  Karl was still a novice at driving sheep, but he had learned enough so that guiding the small flock was not difficult. As he neared the pinnacle of rock he noticed earlier, a ground squirrel whistled. But Karl was not fooled, nor was he surprised when the Northmen came into view. Turning aside, he ran to the edge of the steep slope. As he raced to set up his wing, he saw several hunters running straight toward him, their spears raised.

  Karl jumped into his straps and started down the slope. A spear struck sparks on a boulder beneath his feet, and a savage cry made him turn. He saw the leader of the Northmen set an arrow to his bow. Karl veered away so sharply that his wingtip nearly hit the ground and the Northman's arrow clattered harmlessly through the terry-bone framework of his wing. The rest of the Northmen shook their spears and screamed at him like savage animals as he gained altitude and safety.

  Karl was careful to depart in a direction that these barbarian hunters would not link with Eftah. Then he circled back behind a second ridge and started for the mountain village.

  When Eftah came into view, the sight of the village nestled into the mountains spoke of protection and comfort. Wasting no time, Karl banked his wing into a steep spiral and descended as rapidly as he dared, making a hard landing. Leaping from his straps, he ran to the front door of Athgar's house and pounded on it loudly shouting the chief's name.

  There was a roar from within, and the door flew open. "What are you doing here?" Athgar demanded.

  "Rika and Rolf and Gardo are in terrible danger," Karl said.

  Athgar pulled him inside, and quickly Karl related what had happened. As he spoke he saw growing worry in Athgar's expression.

  "I haven't told the Hrithdon about you and your kitewing, but right now your flying speed and their war lizards are the only things that can possibly save Gardo, Rika, and Rolf. We have no choice—we have to ask for their help. It would be fastest if you flew a message to the Hrithdon outpost in the valley."

  Karl nodded.

  Striding to a room at the rear of his house, Athgar emerged a moment later with a note written on a piece of parchment. Outside, he found a stone and wrapped the note around it, quickly tied it with some string, and attached a length of red ribbon. Then he pointed to a yellow spot far down the mountainside.

  "That's the Hrithdon guardpost. Outside the gate will be two lizard riders. Can you drop this between them and still escape yourself?"

  "Yes, of course," Karl responded.

  Athgar clapped Karl on the shoulder. "Come back immediately and hide your kitewing in Gardo's barn. Don't go out of his house until I tell you it's all right. Once you drop that note, we're going to have Hrithdon in the village."

  Karl slipped into his straps and ran toward the steep pasture. He dove down the mountainside, straight toward the yellow building that was the Hrithdon outpost. The Hrithdon would have Athgar's message in a few minutes. If Rika, Rolf, and Gardo were lost, it would not be for lack of speed on his part.

  Once back in Gardo's house, Karl sat on a bench with nothing to do but worry about his friends. The Northmen had traveled so swiftly between the time he had first spotted them and when he had left them the sheep that he doubted if the others had a big enough lead to get to safety even if the hunters delayed to feast on their fresh mutton. Athgar said the Hrithdon would send help, but what kind of help would it be? And could it possibly arrive in time?

  Shouts and a rumbling sound unlike anything Karl had ever heard were coming from down the mountain. Karl ran to the window. A few moments later, three Hrithdon war lizards traveled up through the village with measured speed. The lizards were an awesome sight. The chest and flanks of each were protected by mail made of plates of metal that reflected in an unsettling contrast to the green of the lizards natural scales. And in their partly open mouths Karl caught glimpses of the savage teeth, which gleamed as if they had been capped with bronze.

  The Hrithdon riders were as awe-inspiring as their mounts. Dark, grim men in war garb, they seemed hardened and impassive as no men Karl had ever seen. Each carried a crested bronze battle helmet and rested a shield over his knee. They wore shirts of the same plated mail that protected the lizards and behind their saddles bristled huge quivers of long-shafted spears. Each rider also wore a sword and dagger at his belt.

  "Three against thirty," Karl said to himself, watching them disappear up the mountain. He had respect for the tough Northmen, but if any three warriors could stop thirty starved hunters, these three were the ones to do it.

  8. First Flights

  "Karl, Karl."

  Karl awoke with a start on the bench in Gardo's cottage. The morning sun streaming in the tiny window lit up Rika's round face.

  "Are all of you all right?" Karl asked. He had not left the house because of Athgar's warning.

  "Thanks to the Hrithdon, yes."

  "I'm glad. What happened?"

  "Just as the Northmen were about to head off the flock, the Hrithdon found us. And the Northmen stood their ground and fought when they should have run. That was their doom. Men on foot will never be a match for Hrithdon war lizards."

  At that moment Rolf entered. Rika had sent him to the village to leave word of their safe return. He was wearing the wolf's-head cap that had belonged to the leader of the Northmen.

  "Karl, you should have seen it!" Rolf shouted. "One charge and it was over. The lizards reared up and clawed the Northmen and bit them to pieces. And the ones they missed, the riders finished off with their spears. They were great."

  "Rolf!" Rika said with such anger that it brought her brother up short. "Be quiet and listen to me. Those Hrithdon are not great. They murdered our parents and left our grandfather for dead. They think that we are their slaves, and our sheep are their sheep. They didn't come to protect us yesterday. They were protecting their property. Now take that putrid wolf cap off your head."

  Rika stormed out of the room, while Rolf stood with downcast eyes, holding the Northman's cap in his hands.

  "It's all right, Rolf," Karl said. "Rika may hate the Hrithdon, but they also just saved your lives, so I think they were great too."

  Just then there was a loud rapping at the front door. When Rolf answered it, Athgar came in. He sat down on the bench next to Karl, while Rika came and stood in the kitchen doorway.

  "Where's your grandfather, Ri
ka?"

  "Still up there," Rika said with a look of disgust directed toward the mountains. "He said there was no point in wasting a day's good grazing. He'll be back with the flock this evening."

  Athgar shook his head. "Gardo amazes me. No wonder he was wealthy before the Hrithdon conquest. When he returns, ask him to come see me." The village leader turned to Karl. "Sometime soon I'd like to talk with you too."

  "Will the Hrithdon come to get me now that they know I'm here?" Karl asked nervously.

  The lines around Athgar's eyes deepened. "Karl, the Hrithdon know about you now, but so far Murthdur hasn't said anything. The Hrithdon have a huge empire to tend, and they may not be interested in you at all." Athgar's broad smile reminded Karl of Bron. "We recognize what you've done for us, Karl, and we certainly won't just give you over to them. For now, we'll have to wait and see."

  Karl watched the huge man leave. He liked Athgar's frankness, even though it had not helped his own uneasiness. And who was Murthdur? Even the name sounded evil.

  Karl went into the kitchen where Rika was giving Rolf a lunch to take to their grandfather. "Who's Murthdur?" Karl asked her when Rolf left.

  "He's the Imperial Magistrate who runs this part of the Hrithdon Empire," Rika answered. "He's absolutely ruthless; he has the heart and soul of a dread lizard. If you ever see a long red banner with a white lizard on it, that's Murthdur's flag."

  "But he must live a long way from here. I'd never see him, would I?"

  "You might," answered Rika. "His castle is in the city of Ithdon, about a week's walk from here, though the Hrithdon can travel much faster on their lizards. He comes here about twice a year to squeeze more sheep from us. But he doesn't press Athgar as hard as the other village leaders because Athgar captured his brother and spared his life during the conquest." Rika smiled. "Athgar says Murthdur got his start selling black market oja."

  "There is black market oja?" Karl exclaimed loudly.

  "Shhhhh! The walls might have ears. Yes, of course, even in the local markets if you know where to ask."

  "Rolf told me that the penalty for being caught with any oja is death!" Karl said.

  "You've got to understand what that little bean means to the Hrithdon, Karl. Hrithdon guardsmen have to rub themselves with oja oil every day. Without it, their own lizards would tear them to pieces. So they have to have lots of oja and they have to control it completely. Without oja, their vast empire would fall apart."

  "That's a powerful bean," mused Karl. "I'd like to see one sometime."

  Rika leaned toward him and spoke in a low voice. "Wait till tonight. Then I'll show you some."

  That evening, they sat in the front room of the cozy cottage and built a fire in the fireplace. After Rolf had gone to bed and Gardo had left to see Athgar, Rika went into the back room and came out with a tiny wooden box. She knelt down by the hearth, opened the box, and tipped the contents into her hand. Karl came forward to look. In the center of her palm Rika held half a dozen small brown beans. Karl opened his hand and Rika poured the beans into it.

  "They look like ordinary beans," Karl said.

  "Except they taste horrible. But they have a smell that's unforgettable. Here, I'll crush one so you can smell it."

  Rika took a bean and Karl put the rest back in the box. She placed the bean on the stone hearth, and taking the rock they used as a doorstop, she brought it down heavily. But the rough surface of the rock struck the bean unevenly, and instead of being crushed, the bean popped into the fire. They could see it among the bright coals. Because of the intense heat, the bean began to sweat out its oil. Suddenly, the liquid oil caught fire, and the oja bean burned with a flame so bright that it cast their shadows on the opposite wall.

  Rika looked at Karl in astonishment. "I didn't know oja burned like that," she said.

  "Lets try another," Karl said.

  When Rika dropped the second bean into the fire, the same thing happened. Again the small bean sweated oil that burned so brightly that it lit up the dark corners of the room.

  "Well," said Rika, "if you ever wanted a torch, oja oil would be better than pine pitch."

  "Let me try crushing one," Karl said, and taking one more bean, he rolled the rock over it several times. Then he bent down to sniff the brown pieces. A pleasant fragrance like nuts and flowers came from the crushed bean. Karl then sprinkled the pieces in the fire, and it blazed again in a half dozen places.

  "Did you get these on the black market?" he asked.

  Rika nodded. "I paid a lot for them too. I don't know why I bought them, though. I only got ten and it takes the oil from about fifty beans to make a day's supply."

  "Where do the Hrithdon get all their oja beans?" Karl asked.

  "They grow them. There are thousands of oja fields in the valleys around Ithdon."

  "It would be easy to make oja oil if you could steal some beans from those fields," Karl said.

  "You'd never get enough," Rika said. "The oja is no good unless the beans ripen and dry on the stalk. In the autumn when the harvest is drying, there are so many Hrithdon guardsmen protecting the fields that you couldn't get within sight of them."

  "And from what I saw of the Hrithdon yesterday, I don't think I'd try," Karl said. But as he spoke a fantastic idea occurred to him. A sense of amazement and power accompanied his racing thoughts, and he saw how it would be possible to strike at the heart of the Hrithdon Empire.

  The next morning Karl went to see Athgar. The village leader greeted him warmly and took him into a room at the back of the house. He handed Karl a large bundle of folded leather. Karl felt the thin leather, and his fingers almost tingled. It was terry leather!

  "What can you tell me about its quality?" Athgar asked.

  "It's good," Karl said. "Not as fine as the leather in my wing, but still very good." Karl looked up at Athgar. "Where did you get this? Do you hunt the terry?"

  "Nobody in the Hrithdon empire hunts the terry. I bought it on the black market. Where it came from before that, I don't know. Now look at these." Athgar took a length of terry bone from a pile along the wall.

  As he watched, Karl realized what Athgar wished.

  "I can't build a kitewing!" he protested. "I'm a flyer, not a craftsman. I've only watched them being built. I've never done it myself."

  "But you must know the basics of kitewing construction."

  "A simple training wing would be the best I could make," Karl answered.

  "That's all we need," Athgar said.

  "Do you want to learn to fly?"

  "No. I dont want the kitewing for myself, Karl. I want the young people of the village to learn to fly and make their own kitewings. You've already proven how useful they can be."

  "Rolf wants to learn," Karl said. "I could start teaching him."

  "I'd rather you started with Rika," Athgar said. "Rolf's still too young."

  "Rika! She's a girl. Only hunters fly. Women don't hunt. They tan terry leather, grow the gardens, and raise the children."

  "We have no hunters in Eftah, Karl. We all take care of our sheep. And you know that Rika protects her sheep as well as anybody. Give her a chance and you'll find that she learns quickly."

  For a moment, Karl considered what Athgar had said. Was there really a reason he couldn't teach Rika to fly? Perhaps she could do it after all. Would it matter that she was not a hunter? This was Eftah, not Karanga. And having seen the terry leather, he was eager to try his hand at the ancient Karangan craft of kitewing building.

  "Well?" asked Athgar. "Will you build a kitewing and teach Rika to fly?"

  "Yes, I will," Karl answered.

  "Good," said Athgar. "I've arranged with Gardo for you to have the time you need. You can use my barn to work in, and I'll get you any other tools and materials necessary. Karl, we must keep the building of this new kitewing a secret. Everything the villagers know eventually finds its way to the Hrithdon."

  Karl promised not to talk about the new kitewing. Full of ideas and plans, he return
ed to Gardo's house and found Rika.

  "Grandfather said you'd be working for Athgar part of the time now. What are you doing for him?" Rika asked.

  "I promised to keep it a secret," Karl said. "But there's something else—Athgar wants me to teach you how to fly a kitewing. Do you want to learn?"

  "Of course I want to learn," Rika exclaimed. "When can we start?"

  "Athgar wants us to start as soon as possible," Karl said.

  "Then how about this afternoon?"

  Though he had second thoughts about using a fine wing like his Asti for training, Karl agreed.

  That afternoon, Karl and Rika began Rika's flying lessons in a nearby pasture. It was a cloudless day, and a gentle breeze was moving up the slope. The conditions were ideal for a first flight.

  As Karl helped Rika into the harness of his kitewing, he felt as excited as she was. "Now remember, do everything exactly as I showed you. All set? Go!"

  With an excited shout, Rika began to run downhill, and after only a few steps she was airborne. Wingtips shaking, she glided down the pasture and then, according to Karl's instructions, she began to flare back and landed. By the time she had slowed to a walk, Karl had reached her.

  "Congratulations, Rika!" Karl shouted. "That was perfect. Lets try it again."

  Rika couldn't stop smiling as they walked back up the slope, Karl guiding one wingtip. He reviewed again what she was to do if she landed too high and dropped in, or if she came in flat and could not keep up with her touchdown speed.

  The next two flights were as successful as the first, but on the fourth, Rika began to flare back far too high.

  "No, Rika, no!" Karl shouted. "Ease it forward."

  But his instructions were to no avail. Losing its lift at ten feet, the kitewing plunged to the ground. When Karl arrived, he found a shaken, angry flying student.

  "I flared too high," Rika said, reproaching herself.

  Karl nodded. "Lets try one more."

  This time, Rika made another good landing, and Karl stopped the lesson for the day. He showed Rika how to check the wing over for cuts and abrasions as they wrapped it up and inserted it into its terry-skin cover. They had put the wing away in the barn and were coming around to enter the cottage when they met Gardo by the door.