The Dead Wind

Home > Other > The Dead Wind > Page 12
The Dead Wind Page 12

by Dennis Monaghan


  Grandfather Lute bowed back. “The honor is truly mine. But there is more!” From a drawer in the workbench he took out a knife in a leather sheath. Pulling the blade from the sheath, he revealed a sturdy drop point blade, as long as her hand, with ironwood scales around a through tang. “You need a good work blade, one not as fancy as the other, but just as tough.”

  Big Red tested the knife’s weight in her hand and inspected the razor-sharp convex-ground edge. This blade, though simple, was as finely made as the other two. What was different is that the energy of this blade, self-contained and strong, did not join with her energy. Such a blade was meant for heavy use on the trail. She would have plenty of opportunity to put it to the test.

  “Thank you again.” She slipped the sheathed knives onto her belt. “May I recommend this blade along with your large camp knife to the first scout for use by all scouts?”

  “That would be fine,” agreed Grandfather Lute.

  Bell cut in then. “Big Red, Grandfather said to ask if you would do a sword set with your new blade at the feast today. Would you please?”

  “I would be delighted to do a set, after the meal. Now, I would like to go clean up. No telling what will happen when the sisters, I mean the spies, show up.”

  “Yes, I better go clean up, myself,” Grandfather Lute said. “You scouts keep watch. Dismissed!”

  Bell and the twins dashed to the door and peeked out before darting to the cover of the live oak then off across the yard. Big Red and Grandfather Lute followed at their own pace.

  Bottom

  Iris struggled to free her hands, but the rope was tight around her wrists and would not yield. A mounted guard saw her attempt to break free and kicked her to the dirt. They were on the road to the Butte. Iris rolled to her knees and stood, staggering back into the line of captured citizens of Bottom. Others had fallen, and those who didn’t get up were beaten by guards. Iris tried to ignore the pain. She was frightened and concerned for the fate of herself and her fellow prisoners. The only good in this was that she had not sent Boh to the market that morning. If Boh had been there, she would be the one who was captured and hauled away.

  Woodside Mill

  The sisters arrived in a buggy laden with baskets of flowers and fine pastries from the ovens of the Roadhouse Inn. They had achieved their goal; the surrounding farms were up and running. Behind their buggy came the young people and children, all dressed in their best, bringing various foods for the feast. People mingled and socialized while the many dishes were being set out on the tables. Harp and Shell played guitar and flute; two of the new arrivals joined with a violin and hand drums.

  The ranks of Bell's troop of scouts swelled as other kids found out about the game. Some even took the side of the Evil Wizen and his spies. Soon the outskirts of the party were an imaginary battleground with squealing and laughter being the common war cry.

  Bell kept an eye on Grandfather Lute, and she made sure the twins did the same. None of the other youngsters knew of their real mission. The sisters hadn't tried anything yet, but at one point Bell saw that the two of them had Grandfather Lute alone near the end of the stone patio. Bell moved closer to listen.

  “The young people you placed on the farms seem to be well matched,” Grandfather Lute was saying. “They are happy and enthusiastic. You have a good eye for seeing who fits together.”

  Bell peeked around a shrub. The sisters were lovely in their flowing City clothing. They were leaning in on Grandfather Lute, who stepped back and almost fell into a chair that was behind him. Gratefully, he sat.

  “Yes, we know a good match when we see one, don't we, Sister,” said Dark Sister gazing at Grandfather Lute.

  “Yes, Sister,” said Fair Sister, with the identical doe-eyed expression. “Yes, we do.”

  With the sisters leaning close, Grandfather Lute began tugging his ear furiously. Bell popped up next to his chair.

  “Ah, Bell, please get the sisters some chairs,” he said, adding, in a whispered aside to Bell, “before they try to sit on my lap.”

  Bell brought two chairs for the sisters, placing them as far from Grandfather Lute as was tactful. The sisters thanked her, sat, and then slid the chairs closer. Grandfather Lute winked at Bell, and she slipped out of sight.

  “How does the harvest look?” Grandfather Lute asked.

  “The fields are full as are the trees,” said Fair Sister.

  “We will have a bountiful harvest with vegetables, wheat, and grains,” said Dark Sister. “I hope the mill will be up to the task.”

  “Now that Mark and Matt are running it, the mill is better than ever,” Grandfather Lute said, with some pride. “We will need to begin planning the fall runs to the City.”

  They began to discuss market plans and transportation, and Bell, losing interest, drifted to the edge of the gathering, looking for the twins.

  They saw her first and ran up.

  “We saw you save the First Scout,” Page said.

  “Everything is fine now. But they may try again.”

  Mark waved Bell and the twins over to the cooking area. “The meal is ready. Call everyone to the tables!”

  “Hooray!” shouted the twins and dashed off in different directions shouting, “Food’s on! Come to the tables! Food’s on!”

  Bell led Grandfather Lute and the sisters to the head of the main table, and then took her place with the twins.

  Grandfather Lute stood and, once everyone to find a place at the feast-laden tables, began to speak. “Welcome old friends and new friends. Together we can prosper and live in peace and harmony. The land is rich, and we are strong. Working with respect for one another, we can attain happiness. A warm welcome to each one of you! Enjoy your meal!”

  A cheer was raised around the tables, followed by the sound of cutlery on plates as the feasting began. Bell loaded her plate with everything edible that was within reach and anything that passed by. The twins served themselves with heavy hands as well, and soon all three were sitting before small mountains of food.

  Bell glanced over at Big Red, who was sitting with Mark and Matt and some of the new people. Surely Big Red remembered about the sword set! Bell had told all her new friends about Big Red's skill with the sword and had talked grandly about the demonstration. Among the young people, the anticipation was high.

  Bell finally finished eating the mound of food in her plate and leaned back in her chair. Looking around at the happy people, she saw Big Red get up from her table and walk in the direction of the house they shared. Bell stood. “I'll be back,” she told the twins, who were eating pie with pieces of cake waiting. “Keep an eye on the First Scout.”

  Bell headed up the path just as Big Red got to the door. Bell tried to jog the last stretch, but she was too full to move fast. When she finally got there, she called, “Big Red?”

  “Here, Bell.” Big Red was in the bedroom.

  Bell found her changing into her scout gear. She was pulling the tan shirt over her head.

  “Why are you putting on your traveling clothes? Are you leaving right after the feast?”

  Big Red nodded. “I can't wait any longer,” she told the disappointed girl.

  “I have to get to the City. I will miss you.” Big Red scooped Bell into a big hug. “Thank you for all you have given me.”

  Bell clung to Big Red, and a sob shook her. When she could speak, she said, “I love you and I will miss you. Come back as soon as you can.”

  Big Red smiled. “I have to come back, Bell. You have shown me what it is like to have a home and a family. The Grotto has opened my eyes to the One Wave. I hope duty won't keep me away too long.”

  Bell pulled away then, a plan alight in her eyes. “Maybe I can come and visit you in the City.”

  “That is up to Grandfather Lute. The City may be dangerous now.” At Bell’s crestfallen look, the scout quickly added, “But I'm sure that things will be safe soon. Then I would love to have you come for a visit.”

  “What about
the sword set? Are you going to do the sword set before you go?”

  Big Red laughed. “I am. Don't worry, Bell. Every kid at the feast asked me at least twelve times. If I don't do a sword set, I'll have all of you following me down the trail until I do.”

  “Which set are you going to do?”

  “I'm going to do the Seven Candles. I’ve never had a blade that could perform the moves.” She smiled. “Now I do.”

  “What is the Seven Candles?” Bell asked.

  “It is a seven-move set in which each candle is split without disturbing the flame. It’s very fast and very precise and very hard to do. Few have managed it successfully. You can help, Bell. Go get me seven new candles from the kitchen, and I'll meet you at the main table.”

  “I'll pick the best ones.” Bell retrieved the candles from the bunkhouse kitchen, and headed for the main table. Seeing her approach, the twins ran to intercept her.

  “Big Red is going to perform a sword set called the Seven Candles, and I picked out the candles.” Bell held out the candles in her hands.

  “What is the Seven Candles?” the twins asked as one.

  “Some really impossible moves that nobody has ever done,” Bell said using one of the candles as a sword, “very fast, slicing all the candles, and leaving all the flames.”

  “Can we help?”

  “Sure, take some of the candles. Don't break them.” Then remembering their task, she asked, “Is the First Scout safe?”

  “No ear tugging,” Page said.

  Bell could see Grandfather and the sisters chatting and laughing over tea, while the remains of their meals were being cleared by some of the young people. Big Red, sword at her back, approached Grandfather Lute from the other side of the table, arriving at the same time as Bell and the twins.

  “Big Red,” Grandfather Lute said, standing. “You look ready for travel. Are you taking these young scouts with you?” he nodded toward Bell and the twins.

  “Not this time,” Big Red said. “But have them follow that training regimen I gave you, and they’ll be ready before too long.”

  Bell climbed onto the chair Grandfather Lute had just vacated and said loudly enough for all to hear, “Big Red is going to do the Seven Candles Sword Set! In one continuous motion, Big Red will sever seven candles without disturbing the flames. This is done at great speed and requires the utmost balance!” Bell spun in place, using a candle as a sword to demonstrate, and when she finally came to a stop, she shouted, “Please come to the pasture!” She ended with a bow.

  Cheering, everyone began walking to the pasture. Big Red was with Grandfather Lute and apart from everyone else. Bell came up behind them.

  Big Red smiled at her and said, “I was just asking your grandfather if the effect of the Grotto is less the farther away you are? I seem to be less aware and have more difficulty getting into the One Wave than when I'm inside the Grotto.”

  “Yes, I know what you mean,” Grandfather Lute said. “The Grotto seems to be a place where we can experience the One Wave in its purest form. I think the One Wave is just as strong outside the Grotto, but we don’t have sufficient focus. When I am working at the forge, the One Wave carries me and does the work. Outside the Grotto. I am most in tune with the One Wave at the forge.”

  They walked in silence for a moment before Grandfather Lute continued. “We have different levels of strength and various talents, and these limit or expand our use and perception of the One Wave. I think Bell is able to perceive the One Wave in its purest form whenever she wants to, wherever she happens to be.”

  Big Red glanced over at Bell. “Is that true?”

  “I suppose so,” Bell said. “But until the Grotto I never saw the magnificence of the One Wave.”

  “So, I may have a particular talent through which the One Wave will operate naturally and without effort,” Big Red mused.

  “You have more than one talent,” Grandfather Lute said. “I'd like to suggest that one of your talents is your use of the sword.”

  Big Red nodded.

  They reached the stand of live oaks at the edge of the pasture. With a piece of wood, Big Red drew two overlapping triangles in the dirt. She then directed that seven logs be taken from a stack of cord wood and placed upright on the points of those triangles, with the last log placed in the middle. Bell and the twins placed a candle on each upright log and lit them.

  Big Red took a warrior’s stance, her sword in hand, and motioned to Grandfather Lute, who pulled a cloth. He then proceeded to blindfold Big Red.

  Everyone was stunned at the blindfold. There was a gasp from the crowd; then people were silent. Bell watched Big Red through the One Wave. As Big Red took deep slow breaths, Bell watched the shimmering yellow gold waves that were Big Red swell out and encompass the seven candles. Suddenly, with a flash of light, the sword was whistling in the air leaving a shimmering path through the colorful bubble of Big Red's energy. The blade flew through each candle. Just as suddenly Big Red was still, sword firmly in the scabbard at her back.

  Grandfather Lute walked to one of the lighted candles and lifted the flaming top from the severed bottom. Everyone cheered.

  Bell and the twins tried the other candles and they were halved as well. The last candle, in the center, had been cut down the wick and the two flames burned side by side.

  The cheering grew in volume, as Big Red pulled off the blindfold and bowed.

  “Well done, Big Red! Well done,” Grandfather Lute exclaimed hugging her. She hugged Grandfather Lute in turn.

  “I owe this accomplishment to the sword and everything I have learned here. All of you have my deepest love and respect. And although I am leaving for the City, this is my home. I will return as soon as I can.”

  Matt walked up, leading Big Red’s horse. “Be careful on the trail,” he told her. The horse was already loaded with the scout’s travel roll, staff, and provisions. “Some of the new people said there are signs around of Rude and his bunch.”

  “Thank you, Matt,” Big Red said. “And you too, Mark.” She hugged them both. “I love your coach and wagon designs. I’m sure you could find a market for them in the City.”

  Harp and Shell were next in line for hugs. “Keep up your performing,” Big Red told them. “Your music is as good as anything I have heard in the City or anywhere else in my travels.”

  Then Bell and the twins crowded in and hugged Big Red. “Take care, my young scouts,” she told them, tears in her eyes. “When I come back, I will help Grandfather Lute with your training. You are almost old enough for Scout School.”

  She mounted her horse and rode toward the gate, accepting good wishes from everyone she passed. With tears on her cheeks, Bell watched the scout ride through the open gate and out of sight.

  Big Red’s amazing feat of the Seven Candles was the main topic as people drifted back to the tables. Grandfather Lute put his arm around Bell's shoulder. “Big Red will be back, Bell.”

  “I know, Grandfather,” she said snuggling close. “But it might be awhile. I'll miss her.”

  “Me too,” Grandfather Lute said, squeezing her shoulder. “We will teach everyone basic sword and staff. We can surprise Big Red with what we have learned.”

  “That would be a great surprise,” Bell said. Good. She had a challenge to meet.

  Thirteen

  The Butte

  Noster watched another pod of larva form man-like blood riders. He had increased the dose of Crim mushroom in the hopes that this batch of blood riders would show greater skill, both physical and mental. He was trying to create creatures he could command, creatures that would be thinking warriors, but he was having difficulty with the results. Out of his early attempts, only two behaved like humans in that they could follow instructions and perform tasks. With these two blood riders, Noster was able to establish a brief thought-link that enabled him to give simple orders and to exert some control over their actions. He trained them intensively in riding and weapons use and, finding them ready, Noster
gave each a power gem. This he called the glob. He had created the glob at the Altar Stone and, with it, he imprinted his instructions on the blood riders’ beings.

  Noster sent the pair with a string of fast horses from the Butte, one along Ridge Road to find the Grotto Altar Stone and the other up Valley Road to the Tanan Shrine Altar Stone near the City. The blood riders were to wait in hiding and, at Noster’s mental command, place the glob on the Altar Stones. Noster would then detonate the globs and gather into himself the potent power created by the explosions. Bast had offered his troops, but Noster was determined his blood riders could handle this simple plan.

  The City

  Bartok leaned against the wagon, watching two artists lay the stone foundation for the monument to victims of the Dead Wind. It was late afternoon, and the light was falling. The workers began to pack their tools. The symbolic final burning opening the Festival for the Living and the Dead was about to begin.

  Colorful flags, streamers, and lanterns were hanging throughout the Wharf and Market Districts, and right around the wharf people were gathering. Banners designated areas for musicians and performers. Bartok had felt the grief begin to lift from the City in the process of removing and honoring the dead bodies. Now, the atmosphere contained a joyfulness, growing out of a great relief.

  He mounted the back of the wagon and stood, taking an unlit torch from a bucket and holding up the brand before the crowd. A cheer rang out. A trooper set Bartok's torch to flame, and, on cue, all along the sandstone wall that lined Wharf Road, troopers lit their torches.

  There was more cheering as the torches flamed high. Bartok shouted, “Let the Festival of the Living and the Dead begin!” He threw his torch into the bay, and all along the wall the troopers threw their torches in after his. A lone barge not far off the end of the pier became outlined in a perimeter of fire. Skyrockets shot up into the evening sky, bursting in colorful claps of thunder.

  People were cheered; they were laughing and crying at the same time. A marching band with lots of horns and drums started to play a light, familiar, cheerful tune. Setting a marching beat, the band stepped off toward Market Square, drawing the crowd in their wake.

 

‹ Prev