Storms Over Open Fields

by G. Howell

  She chittered, then caught at her jaw, stroking the tufted fur there. “You’re serious?”

  I nodded and smiled, keeping my mouth closed. “A.”

  “Gah,” she coughed and snapped her jaws shut. “One of those details you neglected to mention?”

  “A,” I said again, a little more subdued.

  “Huhn,” she half-growled. “Well, perhaps you can regale us with a few of those details over dinner. Food will be ready soon. You must be hungry.”

  “A. You’re starting to look tasty,” I said and then at the expression on her face hastily added, “Joke! That was a joke. Not a very good one. Sorry. Ummm.” I looked down and turned my hand over, seing pale streaks visible through the grime. “I should probably wash: I’m not very pleasant dinner company at the moment. Do you mind?”

  “Wash?” Now she seemed taken aback at that.

  “Yes, washing. You know: cleaning yourself? I do that,” I said gently. “The river, it’s over there?”

  She squinted at me, then waved an affirmative. “A, just down the hill. There’s a trail by the oak. Over there.”

  “Thank you,” I said and started off in that direction before I remembered, halted, turned back and handed the axe over to her. She took it and automatically ran a leathery black thumb-pad along the cutting edge, then glanced up at me, “How long will you be?”

  “Shouldn’t be long,” I replied and she just waved an acknowledgement and watched me head off.

  It wasn’t until later I realized she was probably wondering if I was coming back at all.

  ------v------

  Sure enough there was a path by the old oak. It lead off past an eroded bank matted with twisting roots from the tree above, down a hillside meadow of wild scrub and grass - motionless in the still evening air. It jinked through a stand of poplars where midges buzzed at my face in the growing shadows beneath the trees before reaching the riverbank. There was a little cove down there, an eddy in the river bend where the water lapped at a sandy shore.

  In the twilight the river water was black. I left the kilt Ea’rest had loaned me on the shore and gingerly waded in. The sand in the shallows was still warm; the deeps out where the current flowed were cool like the night air. I stepped in and gingerly began to wash.

  I was filthy, bruised, sunburned, scratched and nicked in countless places where branches had caught me, itching from insect bites, chafed by the manacles. My feet ached. Walking barefoot over stones and sticks had been like taking a tenderizer to them, and accidentally dropping a log onto them hadn’t helped. Sitting in the still-warm shallows I twisted my right foot around to inspect it and winced. The soles were actually discolored - black and blue in places. Not bleeding, thank god. Infection would be a nightmare. Perhaps I could beg some cloth from somewhere to wrap them in. Not the same as a good pair of shoes, but that’d stop stones digging it. Maybe. I gingerly stood again and waded deeper.

  At least the grime and sweat washed away.

  For a while I let the current of the river wash by me and just lay on the still-warm sand of the shallows, listening to the chorus of night insects gathering as the sky darkened and the stars winked into existence. One instance there was nothing, and then, gradually, like silt-clouded water clearing to reveal pebbles on a riverbed, a barely perceptible glimmer became an uncountable spread of points of light. And the harder you looked, the more there were. Nebula after constellation after cluster leading into infinity.

  If it was infinity, was home out there somewhere? By definition it’d have to be I mused tiredly and splashed water. Ripples spread out, distorting reflected stars. I stared at the water for a while before I realized what I was looking at: The stars were out. I could see the milky way spilled across the black sky in a glory I’d never, ever seen back home. Spread across the heavens in a smear that was more like a endless spill of glowing liquid than an uncountable number of points of light. And it was mirrored in the black river, the dark water reflecting the sky, along with a three quarter-moon climbing over the ridgeline.

  Damn.

  There was enough light from the moon and stars to find the kilt on the beach. Finding the trail under the trees though, that wasn’t as easy. I followed what I thought was the trail and after a few meters it was lost in the shadows and I was blundering into bracken and bushes and branches with an accompanying clattering of ironmongery.

  “Shit.”

  “Mikah?”

  I jumped wildly, turning toward the sound and frantically trying to see something in the gloom. “Who? Who’s that?”

  “Mikah?” the voice said again, sounding puzzled. “What? It’s me.”

  There was a shape there, a vaguely feline silhouette just visible against the lighter gaps in the trees. The voice didn’t offer any clues: I have difficulties telling individual Rris apart when I can see them, and their voices are almost impossible. But I could guess. “Ea’rest?” I ventured, knowing that if it wasn’t I could be dropping her in it.

  “A. You… can’t tell?” There was a rustle of movement. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t see,” I said. “It’s dark. I don’t see very well.”

  Another pause: “I wondered why you were crashing around in the bushes.”

  I don’t know if she could see the heat rising in my face. “I… uh…mislaid the trail.”

  There was a pause and I got an impression of movement, like something was passing near my face. I flinched slightly but nothing happened save that she said, “You really can’t see, can you?”

  I shrugged. “I meant to get back earlier. I left it a bit late.”

  There was a low sound, a hiss, then her voice growled, “All right. Come on, I’ll show you. Before you stumble across a bear or some such.”

  Well, I’d been close. She led me a few bumbling meters through the blackness and the going got easier, then we were out onto a hillside lit by anemic light from the moon and stars. I could see Ea’rest now, her eyes glittering in the night. “Thank you,” I said and fought down a wry smile, “again.”

  “Huhn,” she snorted. “I’d wondered why you were traveling at day. It didn’t seem the most sensible.”

  “Not much choice,” I said, trying to be careful where I put my tender feet. “Why did you come after me?”

  “Rothi was getting concerned,” she said, then chattered. “He’s worried that you might have run off without showing him how to fix his toy.”

  “Oh,” I said, a bit taken aback. I hadn’t thought of that. “Oh, yes. I did promise, didn’t I.”

  “You hadn’t forgotten such a monumental event, had you?” she chided me. “You know, he actually seems to like you.”

  “A real surprise,” I said.

  Thanks to the moonlight I saw the silhouette of her ears lay back. “I didn’t mean… Actually, it is. He seems a good judge of character.” She coughed and for a few seconds I could hear our feet brushing against grass and then she said, “I met a male, a while ago now. Before… Haii, from the start Rothi took a dislike to him. It seemed he had… he wasn’t a pleasant individual.”

  I recognized thin ice when I saw it. “Oh.”

  She shook her head and I saw her eyes flash as she glanced at me. “Yet he likes you. I suppose, if a Rris can be a monster then a mons…” She realized where that sentence was heading and trailed off, her ears flicked back again.

  “I’ll take that in the spirit it was intended,” I said as we passed by the imposing shadow of the old oak, heading for the glimmer of light that was that little farmhouse on the hillside.

  ------v------

  That evening I got a good insight as to why farmers have a reputation for enjoying their food. After the day’s work I was hungry enough to eat an elk. In fact, I probably was. The stew wasn’t fancy, but it was thick, rich and filling.

/>   Bugs batted against a sputtering oil lantern hanging from an iron stud hammered into one of the posts supporting the verandah roof. I sat in the feeble pool of light it cast over one end of the rough porch planks and hungrily spooned stew from the wooden bowl. Further along the porch there was a lanky Rris cub engrossed with a patchwork kite, fastening a tail that was a ratty bit of string and scraps of cloth. Heksi sat beside him, offering the occasional snippet of advice. In the background Ea’rest was sitting lounging against one of the porch posts, idly picking at his glistening teeth with a bit of straw.

  “Why?” Heksi was asking me. “That’s….They’ll be looking. And you don’t exactly blend in.”

  “I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” I said. “That’s where my friends were and it’s the best chance I’ve got to find out what’s going on.”

  “You’re sure they’ll be able to help?”

  “They’re emissaries from Land-of-Water. Surely that means something.”

  Both the adults blinked at me. “I doubt they’d be impressed,” Ea’rest said.

  Now I was a little confused. “But, they’re guests of the government.”

  “A?” She cocked her head. “So?”

  “But… but…” I tried again. “Mediators, they’re like guards?”

  She and Heksi exchanged glances again. “I suppose so,” she conceded.

  “Then they’re answerable to the Palace,” I said and got nothing but puzzled expressions. “Aren’t they?”

  Heksi waved a shrug. “I’ve seen a Mediator commandeer garrison troops and openly order a lord.”

  “We always had to yield to Guild decisions,” Ea’rest said, turning her muzzle up to the moon as she thoughtfully worried at an incisor. “There was an agreement. I think… it was a long time ago. Huhn, the… Reichis Charter. That was it. It gave the Mediator Guild authority over independent governments.”

  I heard myself say, “What?”

  Still stargazing she mused, “I don’t know the details. But they don’t have to roll to government edicts or fear their proclamations.”

  That couldn’t be right, I remember thinking over and over. It couldn’t! It’d mean… Oh, god, I didn’t want to think about that.

  But it’d explain how Shyia was able to take me from a Royal escort. How they were able to get me out of town. Had anybody ever mentioned anything about Mediators’ powers? I had a nagging feeling Chihirae had, a long time ago, but I couldn’t recall any details.

  And neither could Ea’rest. All she could do was wave a shrug. “All I know is we did what they told us. Everyone does. As for the details of the Charter, I believe you’d need a savant to tell you details of that.”

  “Oh.”

  “This affects your plans?”

  I nodded, turning the empty bowl around and around, the links of the shackles clanking slightly as they moved. “A. Doesn’t change them though.”

  “You could stay here,” Rothi chimed up.

  The adults’ ears twitched back and they both looked at me. I had to try and stifle a grin. “That might not be a good idea. Someone would hear about it, then Mediators would come. I would just get you in trouble, a?”

  “Sah, Mother,” he gave her an imploring look.

  “He’s right,” she said, her ears coming up. “A pity. He would be useful around the farm, but he’s a bit too noticeable.”

  “But we could glue fur on...”

  “Rothi, no,” she said in final tones. I tried not to look too amused.

  “Hai,” He acknowledged, turning the kite over, his ears drooping.

  “Indeed,” she chittered and lazily stretched out a foot to affectionately ruffle the fur of his arm. “Don’t look like that. He’s doing what he wants to do. You should be pleased for him.”

  Rothi looked confused.

  “Don’t worry,” she sighed and cuffed him lightly on the arm, reaching to smooth the fur after. “But he has to go. Heksi, you’re willing?”

  “You seem to think it’s worth doing, so a,” he said.

  I looked from one furry face to the other. “I’m missing something here?” I asked

  “Taking you to Open Fields,” the male said. “She asked,” he hissed softly and cast her a look. “I agreed.”

  “That’s…” I hadn’t been expecting that. “That’s too generous. I can’t ask you to do that.”

  She hissed and gave a chitter. He looked slightly abashed. “Ah… It’s not that… It’s market day, two days from now. I’ve got goods to sell there so I’m heading there as a matter of course. She seems to think I should take you along.”

  “He can get you there,” Ea’rest said. “And he’s got tools to get those things off.”

  I fingered the heavy shackle around my left wrist. It was where I used to wear my watch, before that became too much of a technological treasure to flaunt openly, but the iron bands and chains were tight, heavy and rubbing me raw. I was getting really tired of them. “You can do that?”

  “I’ve got tools that should do it.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’m afraid that’s all I can do at the moment. If I could pay you… but I seem to have left my purse in my other pants.”

  They found that a bit amusing.

  ------v------

  True to her word, I had a roof over my head that night. The barn roof.

  I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. Sleeping in the same building with an unknown such as myself might have stretched even her charity so they’d let sleep out in the barn. I’d seen the door close, the feeble light in a window die without fuss. I’d have been willing to bet the door was securely locked. At least they’d given me a blanket. It was threadbare and smelt like wet dog, but it was a warm, still night, so things weren’t that bad.

  I lay there on the straw, listening to the sounds of the elks shifting restlessly in their stalls and smelling animal smells. A few days ago I’d been sleeping in satin and fine linens and now… On the other hand, two nights ago I’d been sleeping on the bare ground and now at least I had a blanket and was glad of it. The shelter was absolutely black, but through the door the stars in the night sky were a paler wash in the darkness. I watched stars twinkling, the faint wash of galaxies like ghosts in my vision, the serried ranks of pines and evergreens with their spiky crowns silhouetted against the sky glow. And I lay there and worried.

  Why were they helping me? Were they planning on turning me over to the authorities? Was there a reward and they just wanted to be sure they collected on it? Or was she concerned that if she turned me away I’d seek revenge? When she’d found me in the darkness at the river, had she been watching me? Why? Or… or was it as she’d said and she was genuinely trying to help. And that just took me back to: why?

  Straws rustled and scratched and poked at me as I rolled over and pulled the blanket up. Paranoia kept spinning the same thoughts around in my head for what seemed the longest time, but eventually I must’ve dropped off.

  And woke from a nightmare at some ungodly hour.

  Waking in the dark, twisting away from the shadows in my head with a half-heard cry still ringing in my ears, breathing hard. The animals were making weird barking noises that didn’t sound like anything that should be coming from Bambi’s cousin, bumping against the sides of their flimsy stalls, distressed.

  “I know how you feel,” I muttered. It’d been a… it’d been another of those bad ones. The one I’d had the other night hadn’t been a one-off. They were starting again, those nights of… of Rris; of horrors that’d happened and replayed over and over. Since things had quieted down, so had my nights. I no longer woke the house with my screaming and I’d been hoping I’d seen the last of them. Now, it looked like I hadn’t.

  Outside, in the quiet night, a cicada started rasping. Noises from the a
nimals in the stalls stilled. I listened to the night sounds slowly starting up as my own pulse settled. No other sounds, no outcry from the house. At least I hadn’t woken them.

  ------v------

  “You had a noisy night,” she said.

  I turned, squinting into the bright morning sun rising above the hills to the east. Final beads of dew glittered on the hillside, burning away in a faint mist that gathered in hollows and valleys. The morning air was still cool, but there was the feeling that promised another hot day. Heksi was occupied, hitching his wagon up to the ruminating bison, checking cinches and straps. Beside me, a fur-clad Ea’rest scratched her ribs and yawned widely, showing sharp white teeth in a pink maw.

  “Oh,” I said. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

  “I think you woke half the valley,” she replied. “What was it?”

  “A bad dream.”

  “You dream?”

  “Yes, I dream.” It wasn’t the first time I’d been asked that.

  “Huhn, it sounded… unpleasant.”

  “Yes.”

  She watched me, waiting for me to say more, and then huffed again: “Huhn, one of those times you said you didn’t want to remember?” She asked and watched me not answering, delicately scratching at her chin with a thumb claw. “Ah, I’ve known people who walked … risky paths. Some of them, they suffered from similar afflictions. But they were normal people… I mean, they were people… Rris.” She coughed and flicked an ear. “I didn’t mean it to sound… “

  “It did,” I said, “but don’t worry about it.”

  She chittered briefly but looked uncertain. I had to wonder exactly what sort of business she’d been in that associates had had experiences that left marks like that. What did she think I’d done to have nightmares?