The Shaman's Apprentice

by B. Muze

  As she opened her mouth to speak, blood flowed in and filled it. She tilted her head up, but the blood was too high. She breathed it in through her nose, in through her mouth. As her eyes watched, the darkness filled them, and she felt it rising to the top of her head.

  “Help me,” she prayed to the spirit of the bat. “You helped the Kolvas swim through this river to the new living world. Help me, please.”

  “Will you follow me?”

  “Yes!” she promised.

  “Then drop your burdens and swim.”

  Jovai flayed with her arms and kicked with her feet, forcing her head above the river.

  “But I’m drowning!” She begged. “Please help me.”

  “Trust the river. It will carry you where you need to go,” came the calm advice.

  “Why me?” she thought, and with that thought, she grew heavier. The thick river pulled her down. Quickly, she abandoned her self-pity. She stopped struggling to understand and focused on struggling to survive. She concentrated only on kicking her legs and moving her arms as she had learned as a child.

  “Where do I swim to?” she called.

  “Trust the river. Trust yourself. You have the right way in you.”

  She struck out blindly, hoping the way she swam was to the nearest shore, but she could not be certain.

  The current was strong, constantly threatening to pull her under. She worked against it to stay afloat. The harder she fought it, the stronger it pulled at her. She battled for a long time, but she could feel her strength fading as the blood closed in around her and cut off her air. Her breaths became gasps, grabbed further and further apart. Finally, exhaustion overcame her. She could fight no more. She gave herself up to the river and let it carry her. The current that she had expected to pull her under lifted her up instead and sped her away.

  It did not take long to reach the shore. She couldn’t believe she had been so close! But, perhaps it was a trick of this spirit — the Bat spirit. That was the one the Kolvas claimed had led them through the realm of the dead, across the river of blood and to the new world. Now it had led her…but what did that mean?

  She stood silently, looking out over the river. It was now clear and clean, no longer blood — and the other bank, as well as this one, was alive with trees and bushes, with night birds and scurrying animals. She saw a small flying bat come swooping toward her carrying a strange fruit. Instinctively she ducked, but it had already veered away and was flying off, over the water.

  Jovai turned to go and saw, beside her, sitting on the bank, a pale figure, his eyes flickering over the sparkling water. She had not heard him approach. Had he seen her climbing out of the water?

  He acknowledged her with a silent gesture to sit beside him. She did so, shivering in the cool of the night. She wrapped her arms around her body and found her clothes dry, as if they had never been wet at all. Yet, they were fresh and clean.

  Chapter 30

  Escaping

  Jovai and the Gicok sat together quietly as the time stretched on. There was a moment she thought the Gicok had fallen asleep, but his eyes were open, flickering. There was a moment she wondered if she had slept, although nothing had changed from when she had closed her eyes to when she had opened them again. It was a comforting stillness between them, the night wrapping them both in silent intimacy.

  Jovai could feel the night turn to day, and she watched the mist rise from the stream to the morning. The Gicok stirred beside her and grunted as he stretched.

  “Today I go to my people,” he announced.

  Jovai felt a chill rise through her, but she only nodded.

  “You stay?” he asked.

  “I’ll help you.”

  His eyes shifted nervously, and he frowned.

  “You Kolvas, you not Dolkati Friend. Dolkati Friend, not Kolvas.”

  She smiled slightly and shrugged. “Dolkati Friends aren’t Vohees either.”

  “You not Vohee… now.”

  In the strengthening light, she saw that they were sitting near the place where the Gicok ghost had attacked her. For a moment, in the swirling mist, she thought she saw the shape of that ghost, standing a few feet away, pointing again up the river toward the Gicok camp. The scratches on her arm ached dully in a memory of their own.

  “I’m Dolkati Friend,” she answered, after a moment. “I’ll help you.”

  They washed in the river and returned to the Kolvas camp to find food. Gilix was waiting for them outside their tent, another full basket on her lap. She jumped to her feet quickly as they approached.

  “Where?” she asked.

  “Bathing,” answered Jovai, pantomiming washing.

  Gilix seemed uncomfortable with that but said nothing further on the subject.

  “I am pleased we meet in this world again, Gilix,” said Jovai in her language. It was the formal greeting and wrong for the situation, yet, at that moment, it felt like the right thing to say.

  Gilix looked at her surprised, then giggled.

  The Gicok took half the breakfast, but he held himself apart as they ate. Jovai reviewed with Gilix what she had taught her the day before and gladly learned many new words. She was aware, however, of the growing impatience with which the Gicok watched her. As soon as the food was finished and Gilix was beginning to expand her Kolvas vocabulary with household words, Jovai stopped her.

  “Gilix, there are many things I must do today.”

  She stared at Jovai, without understanding.

  “The Gicoks, the White Ones…my friend and I will attend to them.”

  Gilix shook her head and held her hands open and away from her, in the gesture of one who believes she has misunderstood.

  “The White Ones,” repeated Jovai, pointing toward the Gicok.

  Gilix nodded.

  “His people…the camp…the dead ones,” she gestured in the direction of the Gicok camp. Gilix frowned.

  “You waste time,” interrupted the Gicok. “Go now.”

  Gilix turned toward him as if to protest, then quickly turned away again, blushing. For the first time, Jovai realized that no one had spoken to the Gicok since the night of terror, and no one would. She might have found a measure of acceptance among these people, but Jovai now saw in Gilix’s face that the Gicok had not and would not.

  “No go,” said Gilix to Jovai. “Bad.” She searched for a better word but, not finding it, said again with stronger emphasis, “Bad. Bad.”

  “Why?”

  A pained expression came to her face. She tried to speak but could only gesture with wild frustration and say again “bad!”

  “I go now,” said the Gicok rising. “You come now, or you stay.”

  Jovai also rose. Gilix grabbed at the hem of her tunic and tried to get her to sit back down, but Jovai pulled away.

  “My people bury the dead. Your people eat them, so I hear. What his people do, I don’t know, but no one leaves the dead to rot uncared for.”

  The Gicok moved as if to walk between them. Gilix shrank from him. Jovai nodded respectfully to the frightened girl and followed the Gicok out of the tent.

  The mist seemed lighter this morning than it had before. Or perhaps it was Jovai’s growing familiarity with the Kolvas camp that helped her distinguish shapes and people further away. She knew they saw her and the Gicok. No one greeted them cheerily as they greeted each other. People marked their passage with wary, suspicious silence and hurried away. She watched as the Gicok’s hand moved of its own to where his knife would have hung. They had no weapons, she realized with a stab of panic. Then she forced herself to relax. These people claimed to be friends, at least to her. What need did she have of weapons?

  Suddenly, two large Kolvas men stood before them. Their bare arms and legs were very muscular. Jovai recognized the many years of hard play these men had put into building such strength and agility. They must have been chosen from young boys. Their faces were painted lightly with red, and above the ragged pelts common to all their people, they wo
re a collar of net and hawk feathers. In their hands, which had also been painted, one held a long blade and the other a thick, carved stick with obsidian thorns imbedded all around it. They held these weapons lowered, but ready and their stance was balanced and on guard. Jovai felt the intensity of their gaze upon her and, even more so, upon the Gicok.

  She also felt the Gicok gathering his strength. His body shifted slightly forward, and his breathing grew deeper, ready for attack.

  She put her hand lightly on his arm and said, as gently as she could, “wait, friend.”

  To her surprise, he nodded and let go of some of his tension. Now the situation was her responsibility.

  “Why do you stop us?” she asked the guards calmly in Akarian. They frowned and answered her with Kolvas words she could not understand.

  “We do not harm or threaten your people. We ask only to pass.”

  She took a small step forward. Immediately the weapons rose.

  From behind her sounded a woman’s yell and Gilix came running up to them. She was breathless, but she managed to pant out many words to the guards.

  “…bathe,” the words were repeated in Akarian, and she looked to Jovai for confirmation, her eyes pleading with her to nod. Jovai nodded. Slowly the guards lowered their weapons. They spoke again to Gilix as if they blamed her for the “misunderstanding” and stood aside. Gilix smiled shyly and bowed her head in coy modesty. Only her eyes raised to meet first the one guard than the other with a sweet, sly look, as if they were sharing some very intimate secret. Suddenly the guards were smiling back at her, everything forgiven. One even bowed slightly, with deference.

  “Bathe,” said Gilix lightly as they passed the guards. She said the word in Kolvas and conjugated it. Jovai repeated the conjugations until they were well out of hearing of the guards.

  “Are we prisoners?” she asked. Gilix looked at her and shook her head, saying something in Kolvas that Jovai was beginning to guess meant “I don’t understand.”

  “We must stay?” Jovai tried again.

  “Stay,” repeated Gilix. She nodded. She pointed to Jovai’s arm. “Hurt,” she said. She pointed back toward the guards, then at the Gicok.

  “They would have hurt my friend?” asked Jovai.

  Gilix shook her head.

  “Friend hurt,” she managed to say, and pointed back toward guards.

  “No,” said Jovai. “If he were going to hurt them he would have done so before you arrived.”

  Gilix shook her head again and fisted her hands in frustration.

  “Friend hurt,” she repeated.

  Jovai turned to the Gicok in confusion “Did you hurt anyone last night?” she asked.

  “No,” he answered.

  “Did you see anyone?”

  Again he answered no.

  “But there were guards. How was it they were unaware of you?”

  He shrugged. “I saw no one.”

  Gilix pointed an accusing finger at the Gicok and said angrily to Jovai “Hurt! Filaph, Bokeen, bad hurt.”

  “By a Gicok? A White One?”

  She nodded.

  “You are very sure?”

  Again she nodded.

  “Not him,” Jovai told her.

  “Him,” Gilix insisted.

  “No.”

  The Gicok walked beside Jovai, his eyes flickering in every direction except toward Gilix. He did not attempt to defend himself, as if that would have wounded his honor. He could have taken out two guards, Jovai realized. Even though he was still weakened by his recent wounds, he was a trained warrior, and he could have surprised them.

  “Maybe it was the ghosts,” she said aloud. Both Gilix and the Gicok looked at her as if she were crazy, then quickly looked away. Jovai almost laughed to see these two enemies for a moment acting and thinking as one.

  “Why did you help us?” Jovai asked the girl.

  Gilix bit her lip and blushed, but she only shrugged in answer.

  “She like you,” the Gicok answered for her. “She betray her people to protect you.”

  Gilix turned on him in full anger, her fists raised. She attacked him before either he or Jovai realized she would. It was a match of one small female against one huge warrior. Her first fist slew his jaw, snapping it closed with such violence that blood erupted from it. The other stuck him in the ribs, knocking the breath out of him. His reflexes were trained to unthinking quickness. Even as he lunged forward with the pain of her second strike, he grabbed her, twisting her arms behind her back tightly and held her against him with his arm about her neck.

  “Leforcht ke! Leforcht ke!” she hissed. Jovai did not need a translator to understand her meaning.

  “Let her go,” she ordered the Gicok.

  Gilix struggled against him, but he held her firmly.

  “She come,” he told Jovai. “She see. My people, my family. Dead!” he was yelling in her ear. “Dead by Kolvas. Dead by her.”

  “Leforcht ke!” insisted Gilix, fright replacing anger.

  “Ease your grip, Gicok. Even if her people killed yours, she didn’t.”

  “She come,” he repeated stubbornly.

  “He won’t hurt you, Gilix,” Jovai told the girl, “or he will have to fight me.”

  The Gicok snorted as if that were no serious threat.

  “But you will have to come with us,” she continued to the girl. “Do you understand?”

  Gilix lowered her eyes sullenly and answered in her language. Jovai didn’t understand.

  “He leforcht you. You come. No hurt. Now I know you understand.”

  “No,” she answered.

  “It’s all right, Gilix,” Jovai told her gently. She awkwardly touched the girl’s face, forcing her chin up, hoping her eyes would follow. They did, and for a moment Jovai saw something of herself in them, her younger self, frightened of the giant man who was to be her master. “I won’t let him hurt you,” she told her, “but he’s right. You should come now. There are things your people might need to know.”

  She watched as the frightened expression in the young girl’s eyes turned into trust. Now Gilix was her responsibility too. She took a deep breath and accepted it.

  “Will you come, Gilix?”

  The girl nodded as much as the arm around her neck would let her.

  “Let her go,” Jovai instructed the Gicok. This time he did as she asked. As soon as she was free, Gilix ran to Jovai, putting her between the Gicok and herself.

  “Told you she like you,” he said, with a note of jealousy.

  “Keep your mouth closed,” Jovai warned him. “Every time you open it trouble comes spilling out.”

  She took Gilix’s hand, like a mother might with her child. Gilix squeezed it softly and walked beside her.

  They smelled the Gicok camp before they reached it. Gilix shied back, but Jovai squeezed her hand encouragingly and pulled her on.

  “Teach,” she told the girl, hoping it would ease the shock. “Give me words.”

  Gilix held her nose, made a face and said a word for the bad smell. Jovai repeated it, all her attention suddenly on the lesson. She realized it was her own fear she was trying to ease, even more than Gilix’s.

  “Word for that,” said the Gicok, pointing to a fleeing wolf suddenly frightened from its feast. Gilix supplied it, softly. Jovai repeated it, almost unconsciously. A few more steps and they stood over the half-eaten corpses of what had been a beautiful woman and her two children.

  “His wife,” whispered Jovai to Gilix, “and their children.”

  The baby had been dragged several feet away from where Jovai remembered it lying. It was now at their feet. Gilix automatically reached her hand toward what was left of it, then in horror pulled it back again and hugged her arm against her chest.

  “His family,” Jovai repeated, wanting desperately for Gilix to understand.

  “No Kolvas,” she said softly, her eyes entreating Jovai to believe her.

  “Not Kolvas,” agreed the Gicok, angrily. “Kolvas n
ot kill her. She die warrior. Children also — warrior brave.”

  Jovai remembered the way fallen Gicoks would kill themselves if they could not retreat. She remembered the way other warriors would kill their fallen companions if they could not get them away. She understood what he was saying.

  “Gicoks will not be taken alive by an enemy if they can kill themselves first. They kill each other if they have to.”

  “No Kolvas,” the girl repeated again. Tears were in her eyes. She did not try to hide them.

  “What do we do?” Jovai asked the Gicok. He was standing over his wife, staring down at her. It was a while before he could answer.

  “We burn,” he said slowly.

  “All together?”

  He nodded.

  “Where?”

  He gestured toward the Gicok camp. “In center. In heart.”

  “And their “powers and loves?”

  His head raised sharply, surprised or shocked, she could not tell.

  “I do that,” he answered.

  “We’ll go gather wood,” Jovai told Gilix, leading her away. The girl looked back over her shoulder at the grieving Gicok.

  “No Kolvas,” she said to him gently, as if it could ease his pain. He ignored her.

  Chapter 31

  Curses and Cleanings

  Gilix followed Jovai into the Gicok camp. Everywhere lay bodies where they had fallen. Wolves, wild dogs, carrion birds, rodents, ants, and flies had gotten to them, feasting on the bloated decay. It seemed to Jovai that there were more than she had remembered — many more.

  She expected Gilix to scream or run away, but the Kolvas girl surveyed the scene with a face like stone. Death was nothing new to her people. They lived with death, built their lives upon its mystery. They were not without their own sufferings, and Jovai could not guess what horrors it was that they had fled.

  “Difsat,” Gilix said, cryptically, patting the air around her as if trying to hold its foulness down. “No come. Stay.”

  “He wants us to leave them alone, like this, to rot,” Jovai guessed aloud.

  Gilix nodded.

  “I can’t,” Jovai told her.