by TJ Muir
Once the three of them grasped the concept of the game, the Faenyr dropped the ‘children’s rules,' and the things got a little rougher. Jedda was knocked off his horse in the middle of a relay when Ollen intercepted the baton Tattia was passing to him. He hit the ground with a thud and Ollen’s horse skitted over him. He curled up, making himself small, praying to the nine to let him live.
As soon as the horse had safely moved away, Jedda stood. Before he could even think what to do next, Trellyn swooped down, grabbing him by the arm and flinging him up behind her. He started to slide off the other side, so grabbed hold of her waist to keep himself steady.
Trellyn cut her horse around and rode up alongside Jespen. “Jump,” she said over her shoulder.
Jedda clung tighter, heart thumping wildly in his chest. Trellyn slowed down from a gallop to lope. “Is good now. Go.”
He shook his head, gripping Trellyn’s shirt. She seemed to understand then that he would not make the leap back to his own horse.
“Is good,” Trellyn said. “Hold here,” she instructed, shifting Jedda’s hands to the saddle.
Jedda thought he was going to be sick, but forced himself to release his grip. At least he wasn’t going to have to jump off. As soon as he let go, Trellyn shifted, leaned across, and hopped onto Jespen, leaving Jedda to scramble into a better position on her horse. The mare only wore a heavy felted pad with stirrups, so he shimmied forward onto the saddle and until his feet were securely in place. Trellyn had already galloped off, intent on stealing the baton from Ollen. Jedda had a hard time getting used to the strange horse-- her responses were lightning fast, and she reacted to the tiniest cues and pressures.
They spent the whole week learning and playing qwatcha. The four of them were proficient at least, by the end of the week. Jedda liked the game. He had never felt drawn to play games with the others in Tatak Rhe. Mostly because he didn’t know how to play with any level of skill and barely understood the rules to games like polarity- the favorite among most of his friends. But his reluctance went deeper than that. Having been an outsider for his entire life, joining groups didn’t come easily. He decided with qwatcha it must be because of the horses.
Another fascination the Faenyr had was hunting. Horses and hunting filled most of their days. At night they played music. Ollen and Piqua had wooden flutes, and there was a stringed instrument that Jedda didn’t recognize. Kai made two drums from a carved log and the hide of something that looked similar to a deer. The meat had been tender, and now, Kai said, the animal would live on and sing to the gods with them. Jedda decided that was a nice way to think about it. In Tatak Rhe he never had to hunt or kill for his food. It never occurred to him that animals’ lives were sacred and should be honored.
As they played, Ollen spoke. “Tomorrow we ride back to Jynwyn, there will be a qwatcha match there. You would do us honor to join us.”
Jedda looked up sharply, turning his head toward Cham. Cham nodded, the faintest movement. Jedda understood then that this was what Chamm had been hoping for. Things had lined up neatly and they had just been invited into one of the villages. Jedda sighed, feeling relieved. Luck was on his side again.
Chapter Nine
Nothing prepared him for the vast openness of the rolling plains. Trees had just begun to feel comfortable. While he had been playing qwatcha his mind had been focused on the game more than his surroundings. He was aware of how open everything was, but so long as he kept his attention on people, horses, and ground, he managed.
They rode as a group, Jedda as close to Cham as he could. He looked up at a sky that was too blue and too big. Around midmorning they crested a low rise. Then the four of them experienced the full impact of the Faenyr land’s vibrancy.
Kai and Ollen wore matching expressions of pride as they watched their guests admiring the view. The valley stretched out before them, meeting the horizon on the other side, plains and hills like a rolling sea of grass. The hillsides spread out, full of deep reds, yellow-greens, and dark evergreen colors, the tall waving grasses of the plains a dusty, shimmering lavender sheen. Jedda stared, in awe.
Ollen pointed off into the distance at a large herd of horses moving across the fields. Jedda wasn’t sure, but he thought he spotted a few riders with the herd. He smiled, looking at Ollen, who nodded.
“Where is your village?” Jedda asked Kai, as he rode up alongside.
Kai pointed directly west, where the Nibbin was popping up over the horizon.
“Is your village on the plains? How far is it to get there?”
“Jynwyn is on the plains, but small… how you say? Woods? Grow around it.”
Jedda sighed with relief. Kai smiled at him.
“Sometimes Shendahal when they come down from the mountains? They also get the sky sickness.”
“Sky sickness?”
“How do you say, too much sky? Too much sky seeing, it makes you sick.”
Jedda nodded, considering that. “Yes. I suppose that is correct. I would not have thought of it like that.”
“Wait until tonight,” Kai said, as he put heels to his horse.
Jedda squeezed Jespen to follow. “What happens tonight?” he called out, feeling a little worried.
Kai laughed and called out over his shoulder, “you will see.”
They rode until the light started to fade. Evening lasted longer on the prairie but darkness fell quicker. They found a small stand of trees with a small creek. The place looked like it was a known camping spot and had a fire pit that was dug deep, with stones all around it, and grass cleared away. Jedda stood looking at it, wondering why it was set up that way.
Ollen came up behind him, startling him. Jedda was still getting used to the flowing and silent way they had of moving.
“This,” he said, waving his arm towards the fire pit. “This is to prevent fire sparks. Danger to the grasses. Most danger later, when summer comes. Grasses dry then. Fire can eat the grass.”
“You mean burn the grass?”
Ollen nodded. “Yes. We say fire eats the grass. Feeds on it. But the over danger is if fire reaches trees. Fire eats mountains, danger to all animals.”
Jedda heard the warning about the danger to the forest, but he was thinking about the way Ollen described fire. Fire eating it’s fuel, as though it were something living. “You talk about fire as though it was alive.”
“All things alive. All things carry spark of life. Essence. Fire also carries spark of life.”
Jedda had a feeling this was going to be like the circular-logic conversations he had with Cham. He knew the words made sense, and he understood them, even with the broken speech and the accent. But fire was not alive. It was a tool, a thing. It could be used and controlled. Fortunately they were interrupted by Kai and Tattia.
Kai and Ollen had a quick conversation in Faenyr.
After a moment Kai nodded and turned to Jedda. “Ollen asked for us to ride over the hill, to a small woods, to collect trees for the fire.”
“Trees?“ Jedda asked, turning to Cham. ”How big of a fire are they going to make?”
Cham laughed.
Jedda laughed as well when his brain connected the meanings. “Oh. You mean branches? Sticks? Firewood.”
“Wood. For fire. Yes.” Kai nodded.
Kirrin came up as they were talking. Tattia glanced sideways at him, and then at Kai. “I’ll come with you, if that is okay?”
Ollen set about prepping the fire pit. Kirrin and Jedda helped, making sure there was no dry grass within the perimeter that had been created. They shifted some of the stones as well, with Ollen directing how he wanted them.
“Stones stop the air flowing,” he said.
“Oh, yes, a wind-break, to stop the breeze against the fire.”
Ollen nodded.
“But there is not much breeze. It should be okay, shouldn’t it?”
“Is practice. Not good to ever say not-do.”
“I understand,” Jedda said, nodding to Ollen.
/> Ollen nodded back and then left them by the fire pit. Kirrin followed him a moment later, leaving Jedda to watch the colors fade to twilight.
When Kirrin returned, he was carrying a flask. “I noticed you’ve been avoiding me. What’s going on?”
Jedda shrugged. He glanced around, trying to see if anyone was nearby without being obvious about it.
Kirrin walked around the fire pit, closer to where Jedda was sitting, and perched on a rock facing. He leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. “You going to pretend you aren’t angry about something?”
Jedda stared at the sunset for a moment. He didn’t want to have this conversation. But he was angry, he realized now that he was confronted and cornered. He turned, facing Kirrin squarely. “What if something was going on? I could ask, but it isn’t like you would tell me, would you?” His voice raised slightly.
“What are you talking about?" Kirrin asked.
“I talked to Cham." He stared Kirrin down, forcing his friend to finish what had been started.
“Oh.” Kirrin said, looking down at the ground.
“Were you going to tell me the truth about what happened? Ever?”
“There was no reason to tell the whole story. My mother was there, Cham was there. Did he need to know it was his fault I had to kill the second man? No. I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“So whose fault is it? First it’s Cham’s fault, now you’re saying it’s my fault? Anyone else you want to blame it on?” Jedda had been angry, now he was also shocked.
Kirrin stiffened. “I did what I had to do. You don't like it? Not my problem. So just get over it.”
Jedda glared at Kirrin. Part of him wanted to just get up and leave, but another part needed to understand Kirrin and why he had done those things. He was afraid there was nothing to be said to make it all okay, but if he stormed off now then things might never be right between them again. He wished Kirrin hadn’t started this conversation.
“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say about it? I’ve trusted you completely but give me something here.”
After a few moments of silence, Kirrin sat up, taking a long drink from his flask. He sighed, looking at the fading sunset. “I started out just like you. A scrawny little kid running around the city on Hak’kar’s errands. I made more money than my mother made in a year. It was exciting, and I felt important, and somehow the whole thing was like an exciting game. A challenge, with a prize for solving each one. I learned how to pick locks, sneak into places, steal things. And every time I did well, there was a reward, coins and praise. I learned how to fight. As I got a bit older Hak’kar asked me to do more. But by then he was my hero, and I believed what I was doing was right. Justified. My mother tried to warn me. So did my brothers and Perrin. But this was easy work, and exciting.” Kirrin stopped when he said that, looking Jedda straight in the eyes.
Jedda looked away, feeling his own guilt, angry and ashamed of Kirrin and himself.
“How long do you think it might have been before you would have crossed a line, the line where you can’t cross back?”
Jedda frowned, jaw clenched. He poked at the ground with a stick.
“You were at that line,” Kirrin reminded him. “That night. You chose something different. I did not expect that. And neither did Hak’kar. He is clever and reads people well. Plays people, feeds into their desires and vanities. He was sure he had you.”
Jedda stared at Kirrin in blank, silent judgment.
“I’m not going to say I’m sorry, if that’s what you want.”
“You absolutely should be saying you’re sorry. You should be sorry!” Jedda spat back.
“You weren’t exactly innocent yourself,” Kirrin accused.
“By the red god!” Jedda swore, “Your mother is completely right. You have no remorse for anything you’ve done, do you?”
“I’ve never lied about who or what I am. And what I have done kept you alive! What you did was worse anyway.”
“What?!” Jedda jumped to his feet. “How in the nine hells is what I have done worse?”
“I never betrayed anyone that trusted me. The people I have hurt knew what game they were playing. You can't say the same.”
“You killed people!" Jedda screamed. "You killed Trey’s father and brother! Those were my friends family! I liked Taj. And his father was one of the rulers in Tatak Rhe. And Yaran, too!” Now that his pent up emotions came pouring out, he began to understand what had been bothering him so.
Kirrins’ expression changed suddenly, as Jedda leveled these accusations at him. “How in the nine hells do you know that?” He stood to face Jedda directly.
“Because I got you drunk and you told me everything. Bragged about it, even!” Remembering it now, Jedda finally felt the anger he had been holding in for so long.
Kirrin shot right back, “You worked your way into people’s lives, earning their trust and friendship. And then betrayed it. Every. Single. Day.” Kirrin spat on the ground in disgust. “Just how do you think they would feel knowing that?”
“And how do you think Trey would feel knowing you destroyed his family? If he was standing right here, right now, which one of us do you think he would have a harder time forgiving?” He lifted one hand as he said “Betrayed trust,” then lifted the other, holding them both like the twin sides of a set of scales. “Dead father? Trey’s whole life was ruined by that. He was forced into a crappy position of power that he was never meant to have and never wanted. No wonder your mother can barely stand to look at you!”
“Don’t act all innocent to me! Your hands are just as dirty as mine,” Kirrin said. Then he took a breath, and seemed calmer, almost cold. “You were so skilled at finding all kinds of secrets-- it was all that information-- your information, that made it possible. Think on that before you start making accusations.” He spun on his heel and stomped off.
Now that the shouting had died down Piqua and Trellyn showed up out of nowhere. Jedda wished they would stop doing that. These people seemed to appear and disappear as if by magic. The two girls dumped a pile of fur and feathers on the ground by the pit and glancing sideways at Jedda, began skinning and gutting the creatures with a casual ease. They laughed, exchanging a few words he couldn’t understand. They reminded him of Linna and Minna eying Trey’s brother. He smiled at them politely, moved away and watched the breeze ripple the grasses around the campsite.
Kai, Tattia, and Cham came back, each carrying a bundle of wood over their shoulder. Ollen came back over and dumped a pile of sticks on the ground.
Jedda watched him set up the sticks, and then there was a bit of flame.
“How do you make the fire?” he asked.
Ollen added a few twigs to the fire and blew on it before adding a few more. He nodded, satisfied that the fire was going, then looked up at Jedda. “There is fire everywhere. Heat-energy. Find heat, put it into the wood and ask wood to burn.”
Jedda slumped, disappointed. That answer didn’t help. He wanted to press it further but then the others came up and meat soon went onto the fire to cook. Trellyn also pulled out some kind of roots and put them around the edge of the fire, wrapped in giant leaves. There were some mushrooms Jedda thought he recognized, and the rich smell of fresh garlic leaves.
Dinner tasted much better than Jedda expected. And the roots had a butter flavor. He pointed to it, and asked, “What is this?”
Trellyn and Ollen spoke back and forth rapidly, then Ollen turned to Jedda. “Butter root is how our word for it translates,” he said, which didn’t help Jedda at all. But he would remember it and try to find out more. Being with the Faenyr, all his food now came from where they were staying every day. He didn’t think the Faenyr carried much in the way of provisions.
It was dark by the time they finished dinner. And as usual, as soon as dishes were put away, musical instruments appeared. Jedda slid off the log he had been sitting on so he could lean back against it and looked up at the night sky. The blaze and range of colo
rs there stole his breath. Spots of red and blue and white and gold, streaks of color stretching between the stars, dark reds and purples and blue. They felt so close and heavy. So big. Jedda couldn’t help but stare, even though he felt as if the weight of it all might crush him against the earth. It didn’t take long before he had to look away and close his eyes, only to open them again when he felt someone sit down next to him.
Tattia held out a piece of chocolate.
Jedda took it, puzzled. “Where did you get this?”
“I’ve had them with me from home. I kept them wrapped up for a special occasion.”
Jedda turned, trying to read Tattia’s face in the firelight. He saw sympathy and a soft smile that looked sad. He broke the chocolate in two pieces, sharing it with her.
She took the piece, brushed back a stray lock of hair from Jedda’s forehead, then leaned against the log, watching the sky with him.
Jedda shivered and rubbed his arms. Tattia put her arm around his shoulder, tucking him in against her. Jedda stiffened for a moment, uncomfortable with someone reaching out to him. But he relaxed as Tattia shushed him and began to hum a soft melody.
Soft break
Jedda kept a distance from Kirrin and tried not to look up too often. The sky was too blue and too close. It felt like it might crush them all. He kept his focus on the group, his horse, and their immediate surroundings. They rode through open plains and low rolling hills. Everything was bright green and honey colored- tall grasses and open plains. They passed through a herd of elk that didn’t seem concerned by their presence.
“They know we are not hunting,” Kai explained, when he noticed.
“How do they know that?” Jedda asked, watching the animals meander through the grass.
“We do not hide from them,” Kai said, as though it was obvious. “Also, are not doing threats.”
Jedda nodded.
Later they crossed a river, pausing to let the horses drink and to stretch their legs.
“This river,” Jedda said. “It reminds me of the canals back home.” It was just wide enough for two boats to easily pass by each other. It flowed lazily, but looked deep enough for a barge to navigate.