Just then she heard a faint moan behind her — the little girl. Balsa collected herself abruptly and turned around. Moving cautiously toward the sound, she reached out to touch the child. “It’s all right now,” she said. “The hyohlu has gone. Are you hurt?”
“My foot …” the girl answered between sobs.
Balsa felt the boy approach uncertainly. His hand, waving about in the dark, touched her head, and she took it to guide him toward the girl.
“Gina, are you all right?” he whispered.
“Kassa!” the girl cried.
“It’s all right now,” Balsa repeated quietly. “But let’s get out of here. I’ll carry your sister. Grab the end of my spear and follow me quietly.”
The boy helped the girl climb up on Balsa’s back. Recalling the route she had taken to find them, she traced her way back to the passage where she had left her bag. By the time they finally left the cave, the moon was already sinking in the west.
Outside, the night air enveloped them, startlingly cold and smelling of snow: night’s breath blowing down from the snowcapped mother range. White peaks glittered blue in the moonlight. Arrested by the familiar scent of her homeland, Balsa stopped and gazed up at the star-dusted sky.
“Er …” The boy looked up at Balsa, his face faintly lit by the moon. A head shorter than her but sturdily built, he looked about fourteen or fifteen. His tunic of tanned goat hide marked him as a member of the warrior class, as did the broad knife that hung from the back of his thick leather belt. “Thank you,” he said, his voice husky, as if it had only recently changed.
“Yes, well, we were just lucky to get out of there alive,” Balsa replied, and then added sternly, “How could you be so stupid? Taking your younger sister into the cave to test your courage! A young man like you with the right to carry a dagger — you should have known better. She could have been killed!”
The boy looked surprised. “No, you’ve got it all wrong!” his sister interjected. “I was the one who went in to get the stone, not my brother.” Her voice was surprisingly firm and steady. Balsa had assumed she was only about ten, but she revised her estimate to twelve or even thirteen. “There’s this boy in our village who’s so stuck up — he keeps talking about how he’s from the chieftain’s line and laughing at us, and he said if we went into the caves to get a stone, we’d never come out alive because we’re just from a branch family. That’s why I did it.”
Balsa suppressed a smile. “I see. Now I understand why you did it. But it still wasn’t worth risking your life. You should never underestimate the caves. You almost died in there tonight.”
The two children said nothing, most likely reliving the terror they felt when they met the hyohlu. The girl shuddered on Balsa’s back, and she hitched her higher up. “Don’t ever go into the caves again, you understand?” She felt the girl nod. “Good. That’s settled then. Is your village near here?”
“Yes,” the boy responded. “I’m Kassa, son of Tonno of the Musa clan. This is my sister Gina.”
His words startled Balsa. Jiguro had belonged to the Musa clan. She had never heard the name Tonno, but still, it seemed a strange coincidence that the first people she should meet after twenty-five years were from Jiguro’s clan. Now she understood how he had known these caves so well. This was his territory, and that was why he had chosen this escape route all those years ago.
“Excuse me, but are you a foreigner?” Kassa asked hesitantly, interrupting her thoughts.
“What?”
“You’re dressed like someone from New Yogo, and the way you talk is, well …”
Since Jiguro’s death, she had had few opportunities to speak Kanbalese, and she now found herself searching the past for words. Apparently they had noticed it too. “No, I was born in Kanbal. But I’ve been on a very long journey.”
As she said this, her natural instinct for caution took over. She had come back to Kanbal to find Jiguro’s family and tell them the truth about why he had to escape. But before she did that, she needed to know what people thought about their flight. Royal politics and treachery had forced them to flee; to reveal her identity too soon might be very dangerous.
She looked down at the boy. “You’re Kassa and Gina, right? I want you to do me a favor.” Kassa nodded. “Don’t tell anyone that you met me in the caves. You can tell your family that you saved Gina yourself.”
It was too dark to see clearly, but she thought that Kassa looked troubled. “Can’t we tell our parents?” Gina asked from her perch on Balsa’s back. “If you come with us, I know they’ll want to meet you and have you stay for a meal. Please come with us.”
“Thank you, but I can’t.” Balsa had already thought of her excuse for traveling around Kanbal, and she used it now. “I’m on a journey of penance to save my foster father’s soul. If I accept any hospitality from your family, my good deed won’t have any effect. You know that, don’t you? So please don’t tell anyone that I helped you.”
The children nodded, and Balsa breathed a secret sigh of relief. The people of Kanbal believed that those who died without righting their wrongs suffered eternally as slaves of the Mountain King, the mysterious ruler of the land underground. Their only hope for salvation was for one of the living to abandon home and family and wander about doing good deeds in atonement for the dead person’s sins.
Balsa had no idea if this was true. She had traveled widely and found that people’s beliefs about where the soul went after death differed from one country to the next. She did not really care which of these versions was right: She would find out soon enough when she died. But people doing penance might wear a red headband or even don the clothes of the opposite sex, which would explain Balsa’s spear and men’s attire. It was the perfect excuse. And besides, she thought to herself, it’s not so far from the truth.
“Can you make it home from here on your own?” she asked. Kassa nodded. “All right, then. Oh, and by the way, what did you do with the torch?”
“I still have it, but it was snuffed out.” He held it up for Balsa to see. She frowned. The usually bristly top was flat and smooth, as if it had been sliced with a sharp blade. She remembered the whistling sound and the flash of light that struck the torch. Had the hyohlu thrown some kind of weapon? If so, she thought, it must have been very sharp and broad. And even then, could he really have snuffed out a torch in one throw?
But this was no time to be wondering. She lowered Gina to the ground and helped her climb onto Kassa’s back, then took a flint box from her bag to light the torch. She gave it to Gina and asked Kassa, “Will this last you until you reach home?”
They nodded. She could see them clearly for the first time in the light of the torch. Kassa had a boyish face and looked a little unsure of himself, but she could tell he was a serious youth who cared about his sister. Gina was dark-skinned, and her braided hair was looped on top of her head. Although there was still a trace of fear in her eyes, her firmly set lips betrayed a strong will.
“Well, I guess it’s time to say good-bye,” Balsa said. “I don’t suppose you could tell me the quickest way from here to the nearest market?”
“That would be Sula Lassal,” Kassa said. “It’s about thirty lon from here — what you’d call an hour’s walk that way, down at the bottom of the valley. It’s the biggest lassal in Musa territory, so you’ll find lots of inns.”
Balsa thanked him and headed down the path, but she had no intention of staying in an inn tonight. She would camp outside and wait until several hours after sunrise, when people were up and about. Then she would go to the market to buy some local clothes. If she wanted to be inconspicuous, everything else would have to wait.
The two children watched her disappear rapidly into the darkness before they set off for home.
“Kassa …” Gina whispered, “I’m really sorry.”
He said nothing. It’s not something you can fix just by apologizing, he thought. Still, he understood why Gina had gone into the caves, and the reason ha
d a name: Shisheem.
“Let me tell you something,” Shisheem had announced that day at school. “Warriors who don’t belong to the chieftain’s line aren’t anything more than plain soldiers. They aren’t real warriors at all. That’s what my father says. I’m different, you see. I can be chosen as a King’s Spear, like my father, and go under the mountain to meet the hyohlu.” He looked down at Kassa and added, “We know the secret rituals, so we’re worthy of such an honor. You’d die if you tried to enter the caves.”
Before Kassa could respond, Gina said hotly, “Oh, really? And you think you wouldn’t? All right then — prove it! Show us a piece of hakuma.”
Shisheem smiled gently, clearly just humoring a child. Then he put his hand into his tunic and pulled out a smooth, translucent white stone. “Here. See this? This is hakuma.” He caressed it gently with his thumb. “Clan chieftains teach their sons the secrets when they turn fifteen. Of course I can’t tell you what we do, but I’ve been training for over a year now. So you can dare me all you want — it’s just stupid kid games to me.”
His words seemed to reach Kassa from some far and lofty place. Kassa was one of the shortest boys in his clan and not particularly strong, but he made up for it by being a fast runner and a decent spear-wielder. While Shisheem was taller and stronger, Kassa could still hone his warrior skills through effort and perseverance.
But what Shisheem was talking about now was a completely different matter: There was nothing Kassa could do about his birth. The King’s Spears were the highest-ranked warriors in Kanbal. They lived in the capital and acted as the king’s shield and guard, his last wall of defense in the event of an attack. More importantly, they alone had the glorious honor of meeting the Mountain King in his underground palace, which was said to be made of luminous blue luisha.
But just as a commoner or a shepherd could never become a warrior, Kassa, though born to the warrior class, could never hope to become one of the nine Spears. Only direct descendants of the clan’s founder could be chosen, and the right was passed from father to son. Youth from the chieftain’s line went to live in the capital at the age of fifteen or sixteen, not long after they received their dagger, to devote themselves to acquiring the skills, etiquette, and knowledge required of upper-class warriors. Shisheem would likely leave for the capital soon, and one day he might even become a Spear. But Kassa would stay here in the village. Every winter he would migrate to New Yogo for work, and the rest of the year he would follow the goats with the Herder People, acting as their overlord. His skills as a warrior would only be called upon in the event of a war with another country.
Although Kassa envied Shisheem, in his heart he was resigned. But Gina was stubborn, and too young to have given up on the future. On the way home from school, she looked up at Kassa and said, “The chieftain’s blood runs in our veins too, right?”
“Yes, Mother is the chieftain’s younger sister,” Kassa said automatically. “But warrior blood is passed from father to son. That means nothing.”
“Kassa, you give up too easily!” Gina protested. “Even commoners bring back stones from the caves.”
It’s not bringing back a stone that’s important, Kassa thought, but he didn’t feel like explaining it to his sister. She fell silent, but he could guess what she was thinking.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Gina.”
She glared at him. “What do you mean by stupid?”
“I mean, don’t even think about going into those caves to bring back a stone.”
Before she could answer, some friends ran up and interrupted them. The rest of the day went by as usual, and Kassa forgot all about their conversation until he came home in the dark after spear practice.
Commoners in Kanbal lived in one-room houses of thick stone, with steep roofs to keep the snow off. As Kassa’s family belonged to the warrior class, they had an attic, where he and Gina slept. It was the time of year when the nights grew longer and they ate just two meals a day, a late breakfast and an early dinner, to save their lamp oil. Gina had gone to bed right after supper — or at least she should have. But when Kassa saw a thick rope hanging down the outside wall from the smoke hole in the attic, he knew immediately what his sister had done.
He entered the house and, without telling his parents, went up to his room, pretending that he too was going to bed. Then he climbed down the rope and went after Gina. Before he left, he grabbed a torch from the toolshed. Then he ran all the way to the caves. As he was a fast runner, he fully expected to catch up with Gina, but he was not so lucky. By the light of his torch he could see her small footprints leading inside. He had to admire her courage; the caves were terrifying enough in the daytime. Even though she had chosen to go at night just to keep from getting caught, she was still the only girl he knew who would dare to set foot inside them after dark.
He stood anxiously at the mouth of the cave, hoping to meet her on her way out. But no matter how long he waited, she did not appear, and he grew increasingly concerned. He was sure she would have gone slowly, feeling her way along the wall so that she would not get lost. But if so, then what could be taking her so long? Various possibilities passed through his head. Perhaps she needed time to dig out a stone, or maybe hakuma could only be found a long way inside. But there was another possibility that stuck in his mind and stayed there: the hyohlu.
Unable to stand the suspense any longer, he finally went inside. With the torch in his right hand, he ran his left hand along the wall and followed Gina’s footprints in the rough sand. He was afraid to call her name in case the hyohlu heard. The cave gradually broadened, and soon the light of the torch began reflecting off the glittering walls. Hakuma! For a second, he forgot about Gina and bent to pick up a stone lying at his feet. He stood there caressing it, marveling at its smoothness. Then he tucked it into his tunic. Really, Shisheem! he thought. What was the big deal about that? He smiled to himself.
Just then, he heard Gina scream. She sounded very close. He broke into a run, following her voice. He turned a corner and his blood froze. In the light of the torch, he saw Gina lying on the ground and a black shape towering over her.
Gina! He’ll eat her! But he could not reach for his dagger. Fear had rooted him to the spot. He could not even scream.
Feeling the warmth of his sister on his back, Kassa silently thanked the woman they had met. But for her, he and Gina would be dead. He realized suddenly just how precious life was. Yet the fact that he had been unable to lift even a finger to save his sister stabbed him to the heart. I guess it’s true. I don’t have what it takes to be a Spear.
As if she had heard his thoughts, Gina suddenly blurted out, “You know, that proves it, Kassa. Shisheem’s a liar.”
“What?”
“That lady, she fought the hyohlu and saved us, didn’t she? She’s a woman, right? So that proves you don’t have to be from the chieftain’s line and you don’t even have to be a man to beat the hyohlu.”
Kassa stopped in his tracks. Gina was right. “Yes,” he said, “but it could have been because she wasn’t afraid of dying. She’s doing penance, after all.”
Gina laughed. “So what? It still shows that who your parents are or whether you’re a girl or a boy have nothing to do with it. I can’t wait to see Shisheem’s face tomorrow!”
“Wait a minute! You can’t tell Shisheem that you met her. We promised to keep it a secret.” He started walking again.
“Oh, right,” she said, disappointed. But then she began wriggling on his back.
“Cut that out! You’re heavy enough as it is without squirming around.”
Gina shoved her fist under his nose. “But look! I can still get back at Shisheem! A piece of hakuma fell inside my tunic when the hyohlu got near me.”
“Is that all?” Kassa started to say, planning to tell her about the piece he’d picked up himself. But a blue light was seeping out from between Gina’s fingers, and he gasped instead.
She opened her hand to reveal the stone and
gave a small squeak. It was not hakuma but luisha, the most precious gem in Kanbal.
Sula Lassal market lay at the bottom of a bowl-shaped valley. About thirty shops lined the crossroads where two main thoroughfares met. Despite Kassa’s claim that it was the biggest market in Musa territory, to the well-traveled Balsa, it seemed surprisingly small. The shops were just simple stalls with thick stone walls, a thatch of straw, and tables laden with wares. She noticed that many sold goods from southern countries, like grain and candied fruit. The mountain slopes of Kanbal were too steep for farming, and the only crop that grew well was gasha, a kind of potato. To supplement the meager harvest, the king bought grain from warmer countries like New Yogo and Sangal, sold it wholesale to local merchants, and then made them sell it cheaply to the people.
When Balsa reached Sula Lassal, she felt painfully conspicuous among all the shoppers from the Musa clan. Wherever she passed, people’s eyes followed her. She was glad that she had walked all the way around the valley to enter the market from the side opposite the caves. In the middle of town, she finally found a stall selling clothes, all brightly colored to make it easier to spot anyone who got lost in the snow. Long leather boots lay stacked on the floor underneath the table, and a few kahls, thick cloaks of woven goat’s hair, hung on the walls.
The shopkeeper, a tall man with a face like tanned leather, watched Balsa suspiciously as she looked through his wares. When he saw the clothes she had picked, his frown deepened. “Surely you don’t want those? They’re for men.”
His speech instantly brought back memories of Balsa’s nanny. She had had the same accent, the slightly slurred roll of common speech.
“But I want men’s clothing. I’m on a journey of penance.”
The man blinked in surprise. “Ah, I see.” His forbidding expression softened slightly. “I’m sorry to hear that. And where was it you were coming from?”
Guardian of the Darkness Page 2