Copyright © 2001 by Richard S. Tuttle.
All rights reserved.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
Map of Edona
Chapter 1
Escape
Pitor halted his ax in mid-swing as the sound once again drifted to his ears. He cocked his head and listened carefully. There was something ominous in the thunder-like sound rolling through the valley. The sound was quite distant, as was the valley, but there were no clouds in the sky, no hint of an impending storm.
“What is it Dad?” queried his son, Alex.
“Nothing son,” answered Pitor, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Probably just a distant storm brewing. Let’s get back to work. We’ve got three more trees to mark and fell before we get to go back to the village.”
Pitor watched Alex’s shoulder length blond locks sway as his son sauntered off to work, seeking the right trees for the new tavern. His son knew what kind of trees Gathar, the village carpenter, wanted and Alex would search for just the right trees. Gathar was fastidious as always with his requirements. He felt his reputation as the finest carpenter in the whole Gordo region hinged on each and every job, which is why he always selected Pitor to supply his lumber.
Pitor prided himself on always delivering what Gathar demanded and was training Alex to do the same. For the last five years, since he was nine, Alex had accompanied Pitor on his trips to the forest and his skills were fast approaching his father’s. In some respects, Alex was even more at home in the forest than Pitor.
At first, Alex was overwhelmed with the feeling of solitude in the deep woods, but he came to know the forest as home. After a while, Alex preferred living in the forest to the dusty, noisy life in town. In town, people were always moving around, stirring up dust and jabbering about this thing or that. In the woods, there was nature. The forest was not silent as some thought. It was full of sounds, but Alex found the sounds pleasing. He also learned early that to hear the sounds and see what made them, one had to be silent. At first, Pitor was annoyed each time he found Alex sneaking up on an animal as he attributed it to inattention to work. Soon though, Pitor realized his son was at home in the forest and he could not complain about the lad’s ability to learn his craft. Alex was a fast learner and would soon be able to go out on his own. Alex was already faster at finding the proper trees than Pitor was and his muscular body never seemed to tire. Physically, Alex was more man than boy. Pitor put his musings aside and returned to work.
Pitor gathered up his tools and looked for the ribbon that Alex would have used to mark the next tree. It had been hours since he last saw Alex, but he could not complain. The last two trees that Pitor felled had been marked, spiked and topped by Alex, and Pitor knew the last one would be also. Alex never let him down and if his son could do a man’s work so quickly that he could still find time to go scampering off after animals, then that was fine with Pitor.
“Dad, called Alex, “come quick! I found out what is making the thunder and I have never seen anything like it. Come On!”
“Alex,” answered Pitor, “we have one more tree to fell and then we can be off to your marvelous discovery. Grab an ax and give me a hand with this one. We’ll be done shortly.
“Dad,” blurted Alex, “you don’t understand. Something is wrong, very wrong. Come to the rise and see for yourself.”
“Okay, Alex,” answered Pitor, “I am curious about the thunder under a clear sky, but you will have to see Gathar about getting the cart when we get back.
The two lumbermen climbed the small rise, which would afford them a view of the next valley. Pitor was shocked when he saw the valley was under a cloud of dust. Thousands of animals as far as the eye could see were streaming southward through the valley. Free of the sound-deadening forest, the sound here was greatly amplified and the thunder-like sound was constant. Something terrible must have spooked the animals because predator and prey alike were running as fast as their legs could carry them, seeking some refuge from what must be certain death behind them. To Pitor, there was no longer a mystery surrounding the rolling thunder; the Yaki had returned.
“Alex,” ordered Pitor, “run back to the village as fast as you can. Tell Gathar to get all the men together quickly. Tell him the Yaki are coming and he must organize the men to hold the Yaki while the women and children escape.”
“But Dad,” blurted Alex, “who are the Yaki and what do you mean escape?”
“Don’t interrupt,” scolded his father, “Who or what the Yaki are is not important!”
Composing himself, Pitor added, “I’m sorry Alex; I shouldn’t be snapping at you. I feel this is my fault. All day I have been hearing that thunder and putting it out of my mind when I should have investigated it immediately. I fear that I may have endangered the entire village by not getting a warning to them earlier. The Yaki are a fierce race of fox-like creatures that devour everything in their path. They look a bit like a fox, but are six to seven feet tall and can walk on two legs or run on all four. They are extremely fast and agile and their teeth can rip the flesh off of your bone quicker than you can feel the pain. I had hoped to never see them again. From what I see below, there must be thousands of them coming. Our village will never survive that many.”
“Why haven’t I ever seen the Yaki in the woods before and how can we stop them?” asked Alex.
“First,” answered Pitor, “the last attack of the Yaki was over thirty years ago. They were just a small band compared to what must be driving this many animals. I thought they were extinct, but nothing else could scare these animals so. Second, we are not going to stop them. You are going to lead the women and children to safety. No arguments here, Alex. You know the woods better than any man I know. Round up some of your friends and take whatever bows and knives Gathar says we can spare. Tell your mother to get the women and children together for a long journey. Take no belongings with you, only the weapons that Gathar can spare and enough food to last your party two or three days. You must guide the group up into the mountains. If you can, go through the pass although it is probably too late in the season to get through. Try anyway. I don’t know if we can stop the Yaki here. If we cannot then I don’t know how far they will chase you. They probably won’t stop until their bellies are full.”
“How will you find us?” asked Alex.
“Take some tree ribbons with you”, answered Pitor. “Tie one on a tree each time you change direction and place the knot in the direction that you went. We will follow the trail, but do not slow down or wait for us for any reason. You will already be slowed enough with the women and children and we will have no trouble finding you. Go now; run as fast as you can. We are depending on you to keep our families safe.”
“Dad,” quizzed Alex, “you are going to follow us aren’t you?”
“Son”, replied Pitor, “I love you and I love your mother. The only thing that will stop me is death. But I would rather be dead than to see my loved ones in the jaws of those vicious beasts. You move your party as quickly as you can and the men of the village will buy you time to escape. When we feel that you have enough of a lead, we will break off the fight and follow your markings. May the gods be with you son.”
Alex ran through the woods, his mind filled with urgent thoughts. He kept hoping this was all a dream, a nightmare really, but the perspiration soaking his back and the feel of his feet pounding the forest floor jogged him back to reality. He had always been pretty much of a loner except for his work with his father and now he was being told to lead his village to safety. Everyone would be depending on him. What if he couldn’t do it? Maybe his father thought his skills were greater than they actually we
re. Gathar, the carpenter, was considered by most of the villagers to be the village leader and surely he would want his son, Laman, to lead the party to safety. Perhaps Alex could remain with his father and help repel the Yaki.
Alex rounded the bend in the trail and saw the village. He was amazed that everyone was tending to his usual job as if nothing was wrong. Reality dawned quickly; he was the messenger of death. He headed straight for the new tavern that was under construction hoping to find Gathar there, but the only person there was Kyle, the tavern owner’s son. Kyle and Laman were Alex’s closest friends and undoubtedly would be joining the exodus into the mountains.
“Kyle, “ panted Alex, “Where is Gathar? I must speak with him immediately.”
“He just left with Laman to return to his shop and prepare the cart that you will be needing for tomorrow,” stated Kyle. You did get the trees that we need for the floor, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but there is something more important to discuss. Come with me; I am going to need your help.”
Alex took off for the carpentry shop with Kyle close behind. Alex barged through the door knocking down some long wooden strips that were leaning against the wall.
“Hey! Careful there, Alex,” admonished Gathar. “Laman spent half a day on those strips and I’ll not be having you ruin his work in your haste. Go outside and play and I hope this means that you have finally finished felling my trees.”
“I’m sorry,” apologized Alex. “Father sent me to warn you that the Yaki are coming. We saw thousands of animals fleeing down the next valley and father says that you must organize the men to defend the town while the women and children escape. He fears that there is not enough time for the whole village to leave and that the men will have to delay the Yaki.”
“My gods!” exclaimed Gathar. “The next valley, you say? I fear Pitor is correct. He would not send you if he was not. Okay, listen closely now. Alexander, you will lead the village to safety. Laman, Kyle, I want you two to follow Alex’s lead. Do what he says, but offer him your thoughts constantly.”
“But,” exclaimed Alex, “Why me? I thought you would want Laman to…”.
“Enough,” retorted Gathar. “Laman is as fine a carpenter as most men will ever be, but you Alex, are a woodsman and a survivor. You are stronger than most men of the village, most of the villagers respect your judgment and you are stubborn, just like your father. You won’t give in when the youngsters whine that they are tired or when the women need to rest for just another five minutes. No, Alex, you must lead our families to safety and Laman and Kyle will be your right and left hands. Now go and organize the women and children. We all have much to do and too little time to do it.”
The three boys left the carpentry shop dazed. The whole situation had an unreal quality to it. Three boys who worked with their fathers, learning their trades or playing in the fields, were being thrust into the responsibility of caring for the entire village. Even though it would only be for a few days, Alex couldn’t help feeling the tremendous weight of this responsibility. Laman seemed excited, as if this was going to be a great adventure, while Kyle was subdued.
“Well, where do we start, fearless leader?” exclaimed Laman.
“We start with our mothers,” stated Alex. “We can’t go around to each villager and explain the situation, so we will each inform our mothers of the problem. They can start spreading the word. Let’s meet back here in fifteen minutes. We need to get the cart out and get it loaded with provisions. Laman, I am going to need you to construct a few seats in the cart so that some of the weaker can take turns resting on the journey. Kyle, you need to start gathering supplies for the trip. No personal belongings, no matter how important, will be allowed. We will need food for three days. Try to make it food that will last a long time and not spoil under the weather. Also, get whatever herbs and medicinal goods the men can spare. Keep in mind that we will have to tend to the men’s wounds when they meet up with us.”
The three boys split up and headed home. Alex’s small home was located at the edge of the village as though his father never wanted to be far from the woods. Alex’s mother, Lavinda, was in the yard when Alex approached. As Alex told his mother about the Yaki and the preparations to leave the village, he could see the concern creeping into her eyes.
“Where is your father?” she asked.
“Dad will be along shortly,” replied Alex. “He and Gathar need to ready the village’s defenses. Everyone who is leaving should gather at the carpentry shop and be ready to leave. I have to return to Gathar and see what spare weapons he can find.”
Lavinda watched Alex leave, thinking how much like his father he had become. Pride in her son competed with fear for the safety of the village as she turned to warn others of what was coming.
Alex found Gathar and his father behind the carpentry shop with a group of other men. Brahm, the owner of the new tavern, was speaking.
“I can help Pitor fell trees across the road, but I’m not sure that will even slow the critters down much.”
“It will, if we lace spikes to them after they’re felled,” noted Pitor.
“I have about a dozen metal traps,” said Gast, the trapper. “They won’t stop the Yaki, but if we place them appropriately, it will make them wary enough to slow them down.”
“I may be able to help,” offered Fred, the dairyman. “I have about a hundred cows that I can slaughter. I can take them about a mile out of town and kill one on the road. Then I can put one down every hundred yards or so, making a trail of cow bodies stretching away from the village. Maybe they would lead the Yaki away from us.”
“It is a risky task, Fred, but it will buy us some time,” said Gathar. “You will not be able to handle that large a herd by yourself though. Take five or six of the men with you and get started. If the Yaki get close, abandon the cows and get back here. We are going to need every defender that we can get. The rest of you men make the preparations for the fire barricade and the smoke.”
Men scurried in all directions. Alex realized that if they were able to return to the village, there would not be much of a village to return to. Every building was being prepared to be burned. All of their livestock would be slaughtered. Many of the men would die. He wondered…
“They won’t,” stated Kyle.
“What’s that, Kyle?” asked Alex.
“You were wondering if any of them would survive. They won’t. They know it too. Look at their faces, Alex. They’re doing all of this for us, so we will survive.”
Kyle always imagined the worst, thought Alex. If anything could go wrong, Kyle absolutely knew it would. Still, Alex looked at his father and Gathar. Their faces were a mask of grim determination and their eyes were full of sorrow. No hint of a successful outcome could be seen anywhere.
“We don’t have time to dwell on this,” snapped Alex. “Let’s get the horses hitched to the cart.”
Kyle went into the shop where Laman was just finishing his work on the cart. The two boys hitched up the horses and brought the cart out into the street so that it could be loaded. Alex went to Gathar and inquired about the weapons that could be taken with the cart. The selection of weapons was pretty meager; half a dozen bows and an assortment of knives and hatchets. Pitor had already put Alex’s ax in the cart along with all of the tree ribbons that they had. Alex went out into the street where the women and children were all gathered, ready to go. Little children were crying; women were giving their husbands a last embrace. Laman and Kyle were taking a count of the party to make sure everyone was assembled. Alex saw his father returning from the new barricade and went over and embraced him.
For a while neither spoke, then Alex said, “I love you Dad”.
“And I love you, son,” replied Pitor. “Take care of your mother and the rest of the villagers. Never doubt your abilities, son. You can keep them safe and organized. Keep them moving and never look back.”
With that, Alex turned and led the procession into the woods. Initially,
the pace was quite brisk; fear driving the villagers onward. After several hours on the mostly uphill trail, fatigue was setting in. Alex called a halt. The sun was setting and everyone assumed that they would camp here for the night.
When everyone had had a drink and was seated, Alex addressed the group. “We are going to rest for fifteen minutes and then we will be moving on. I know many of you are tired and want to rest for the night. We cannot. The moon is full and I know this area of the forest well. We will be safe moving at night, but the pace will be a little slower. We are also going to move the wagon to the back of the group to allow stragglers a brief chance to rest. There is only room for six in the wagon, so when the seventh straggler is picked up, the one who has been in the wagon the longest must get out and walk again.”
“Why can’t we sleep here?” shouted one woman.
“Yes,” cried another. “It’s dangerous for women and children to move through the forest at night. It’s okay for you young lads with bows and knives, but what if some forest animal attacks us?”
“Quiet, please,” shouted Alex. When the murmuring subsided, Alex continued. “I’m sorry for my abruptness. Some things are so clear to me that I assumed they would be clear to all. That was wrong. We have only traveled a short distance so far. I know it seems greater to most of you and that you are tired, but we have not seen a forest animal since we left the village. The animals in this area have already cleared out. They know that danger is close. We must know that also. There are no animals to attack us except those behind us. We must put as much distance between the village and us as we can; as soon as we can. As for stragglers, anyone left behind the group will die, so we must all care for each other. It is going to be a physical ordeal, but we will survive. We must also care for the horses. If we continually give them too much weight to pull, we will lose them.”
“But can’t we just wait here for our men?” asked Kara, the dressmaker.
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