“How would he know Iris is a healer?” she wondered as she ran to catch up with Rah. “She must be alive and being used to tend the solders. Thank the Red Priestess.” Boh grasped the thread of hope. But how could they rescue her from Noster?
Ridge Road
Jana held up her hand, and she and the other riders pulled to a halt. “We will stop and rest here for a time,” she said. “We have pushed hard.” When they had dismounted and led the horses off the road, she asked, “How is everyone doing?”
“My only complaint is not stopping at the Bent Tree Inn,” Bill said with mild indignation, “Good beer and the best wine anywhere.”
“Not to worry, Bill,” Big Red said, “By morning we will be at the Roadhouse Inn just above Woodside Mill. Though I have not had their beer, I can tell you the sisters can bake up a storm of tasty treats.”
“Almost as good as beer,” Slim said with a yawn. He unsaddled and groomed the horse. The others tended their horses and rested.
Ridge Road
Scary came to a stop. The Tanan Shrine Altar Stone had given the blood rider a new level of sight. He was beginning to see the vibration of the environment. He had learned that if he was close enough to see the women shining, then they could feel him. Twice he’d had to duck out of the way when the women sensed that he was close. He was sure they carried the glob and he felt they were moving in the direction of the Bright One. He would just have to bide his time.
The City
Bartok crawled to his bedchamber. The phantom screaming face of the old captain darted around him like a dog after a rat. Gone was the feeling of invincibility the Crim tea had spawned, gone was the physical prowess. He could barely move the last pace to the bed. “I am the Trickster,” he muttered at the twisted face of the old captain, “I am the Trickster, get away, get away,” he waved his arm feebly and passed out.
Twenty
Woodside Mill
The morning sun touched the gate to Woodside Mill, and Bell heard the sound of horses coming down the Mill Road. Last evening Bell and the family had seen the arrival of Big Red and three companions displayed in stick figures on the Grotto Altar Stone. “Big Red is here!” Bell called from her perch on the wall.
Grandfather Lute unlocked the gate and the twins pulled open both sides. Bell hopped down from the wall and ran through the gate to the party that was now slowing and stopping.
“Big Red, welcome! We didn’t expect to see you so soon, but, to our delight, the Altar Stone foretold your arrival.”
Big Red swung down from her horse and hugged Bell and then the twins. Grandfather Lute patted her back and said, “Welcome! You are just in time. Breakfast is being prepared.”
“Grandfather Lute, Bell, Book, Page; this is First Scout Jana, and Bill and Slim.”
“Welcome to you all,” Grandfather Lute said. Book and Page took the horses, and Bell led the way to the bunkhouse. They had a hearty meal. Grandfather Lute left the table and sat in his wing chair before the hearth, and everyone settled around him. Grandfather Lute spoke first. “We love you dearly, Big Red, and wish you could stay with us, but we were prepared for a long wait before we saw you again. What has brought you back so soon?”
Big Red told of her return journey to the City and how Bill and Slim saved her from the scavengers’ attack at Wind Point Plateau. “When we arrived at the Tanan Shrine,” she added, “Cobb and Maggie’s girl, Olive, had ridden from the Oak Vine Inn with a warning of a strange rider looking for the shrine.”
Jana said, “Big Red was able to experience Bell’s encounter with Noster, and from this we learned that this rider is one of Noster’s constructs called a blood rider.” The story then unfolded of the battle with the witless men and Olive finding the glob. “I believe this blood rider has followed us from the Tanan Shrine,” Jana said. “There was a time or two on Ridge Road when I felt an odd energy, a taint.”
“I felt the same thing,” Big Red said, and Slim nodded agreement.
Grandfather Lute told of the fight with Rude and his bunch led by a blood rider and the explosion of the glob. “More blood riders with globs are on their way,” he said. “We have set a constant guard in the Grotto. The sisters and our neighbors are helping. We are also holding sword and staff training sessions for the community. Our hope is that we can prevent further attacks.”
“We have brought the glob Olive found and Master Akien has sent samples of Crim mushroom tea which is causing trouble in the City.” Jana handed the vials and Master Akien’s notes to Grandfather Lute. “Master Akien would like to see what you make of the tea.”
Grandfather Lute held a vial up and looked at the liquid. “I wonder if this tea or some other Crim mushroom concoction unlocks the ability to throw fire,” he mused. “I have a vague memory of a Tanan rhyme, something about keeping cows from harm?” he muttered, lost in thought.
“Keeping cows from harm?” Jana asked, “I know some of the Tanan rhymes Master Akien taught me, but what you’re saying doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Well, I’ll have to try and remember. Ma Golden at the Bent Tree Inn knows a number of Tanan rhymes and has some ideas about hidden meanings in the poems. Maybe she can help us. Right now, we have chores to attend to, and you have been traveling hard. It’s time for you to rest. After the noon meal we can examine what you have brought us.”
Woodside Mill
Scary followed the scouts to the Woodside Mill gate, hanging back so they wouldn’t detect his vibration. The shining riders stopped as the gate opened, and there appeared the Bright One, the young woman who had shaped his new vision and given him purpose. Mesmerized, he watched Bell until they entered and closed the gate.
The blood rider shook himself out of his stupor. Had they talked about an Altar Stone? He heard a moaning coming from the nearby stream. He moved closer and peered through the foliage.
“Ooh, please make it stop!” cried a man, his naked body submerged in the stream, “When will end?”
“Last time I had poison oak,” said one of two men sitting near a tent on the bank, “it didn’t go away for weeks. I still have some on my hand.” He waved his hand in the direction of the water as if the submerged man could see the remaining poison oak on his fingers.
The second man nodded his head in agreement and said, “A case as bad as yours, Rude, may never go away. We may be camped out here forever, if the river is your only cure.”
“And by Yil’s tit we will,” Rude shouted. “All of this is your fault, Fiscal, you and Dent abandoning me to that maniac Lute Miller. I’ll get him, you wait and see.”
Scary stepped out of the underbrush to the edge of the stream and looked at Rude. He reached out, took Rude by the hair and dragged him to shore. He stood Rude on his feet and asked, “Where is Altar Stone?”
Rude stumbled back and cursed, “Blast and double blast! He’s another weird one, looking for the Altar Stone. Well the blast stone is somewhere on Woodside Mill land, and you are welcome to it! Just leave me alone to die.”
Scary, unfazed by the outburst, repeated, “Where is Altar Stone?”
Rude became more agitated, jumped up and down and shouted, “No! No! No!” Suddenly Rude turned and ran screaming into the woods. Fiscal and Dent looked at the blood rider and then at each other and ran screaming after Rude.
Scary watched them disappear among the trees. If there was an Altar Stone, he would have to find it on his own.
The City
Michael and his musicians played the final uplifting notes of The Requiem, and as the sound drifted away on the breeze, the crowd gathered around the stage in Government Square burst into thunderous applause. The players waved and bowed.
Michael put away his instruments, hopped down from the low, rock-fronted platform to joined Cara and Ronzal. In minutes, Ronzal was leading them across the avenue and to a table outside the Old Gov Inn, which occupied the bottom two floors of a three-story corner building constructed in the old style: rock walls, sturdy beams, and a tile roof.
After food was ordered, Ronzal said, “The music was even better the second time. I heard more. I like how you would hint at a common melody known to all. And the ending,” he exclaimed, “my heart could not have risen higher!”
Cara agreed. “I couldn’t stop crying. The way you portrayed the Dead Wind was so sad.”
“Thank you, thank you. Something I discovered as we rehearsed and played parts over and over is that the healing melodies I sprinkled through the music have increased in strength. I wonder, could instrumentation add effective strength to the healing?”
“That sounds like a possibility,” Cara said. “Or you have grown stronger since the Dead Wind. My artistic vision has expanded, and others say they have all sorts of enhanced abilities.”
“Surviving the Dead Wind has allowed us to be more connected to the One Wave,” Ronzal said. “I now have a heightened ability to see the balance in situations and how to tip those situations one way or the other. Before the Dead Wind I was aware of this talent, but it was dim.”
“Speaking of dim,” Cara said with a laugh, “Bartok missed today’s council meeting. There is a rumor he was seen late in the night with rowdy companions. Should we worry, or is he just celebrating being elected speaker?”
Master Akien approached the table, “Michael, I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed The Requiem. I brought many of the new scout recruits to hear your music; they are still in the square.”
“Thank you, Master Akien. Please join us.”
“How is the Scout School going?” Ronzal asked.
“We have just started, but I must say I’m encouraged by the level of talent the students show. I believe we will have a strong class to stand against Noster if need be.”
“Does the school need anything?” Ronzal asked.
“Yes, we could use some trained administrative people. The instructors are too busy to deal with nuts and bolts of running the City Scouts. Maybe you could suggest where we may find help.”
“Better than that, I will hand-pick a group and send them to you this afternoon.”
“Thank you! That will be a big help.”
“Any other concerns?”
“Actually, there is,” Master Akien said. “As you know, there are several Tanan masters scattered through the City Bay Region. Except Mother Yil, a hermit on Solitary Mountain, I’ve had no contact from any of the masters since the Dead Wind. Mother Yil also has concern. She believes the other masters are not dead but are somehow missing—possibly trapped in an alternate vibration created during the Dead Wind.”
“I have heard nothing,” Ronzal said, “but I’ll send out the word with my traveling traders.”
Master Akien said then that he needed to return to his students, and within a few minutes the group had dispersed, each going their separate way.
Woodside Mill
The family and visitors gathered under the majestic oaks outside the forge as Grandfather Lute held the vial of Crim tea to the sunlight. He said, “Bell, put the kettle on to boil,” and then he turned to Jana. “You say the tea causes people to think they have great power but leaves them debilitated after? Not a good trade by my way of thinking.”
“Apparently the feeling is so compelling, the user returns to the tea regardless of the impact on his health.”
Grandfather Lute pulled the glass stopper and sniffed the contents. “What is the dose?” he asked.
“The glass stopper is hollow,” Big Red said, “and measures the amount to be used with water.”
Everyone had a look at the two vials of Crim tea, commenting on the dark red color, and the tangy smell that was not quite wholesome. Bell handed the vial back to Grandfather Lute and told him the water was ready.
“Pour a cup, please.”
Bell returned with a cup of hot water, and Grandfather Lute added a capful of Crim mushroom tea.
“You aren’t thinking of drink the tea, Grandfather?” Bell protested. “No, you can’t, I’ll drink the tea.”
Suddenly everyone was volunteering to drink the tea, arguing why they should be the one. Grandfather Lute laughed and held up his hands. “All right, all right. I can see we will have to decide who does the honors. The prospect is dangerous but we do need to have a firsthand experience if we are going to understand the tea. Now, Bell and the twins will not drink the tea. You are too young.” Before they could protest, he held up his hand. “I know, you are adults, but you’re young adults and still growing. No tea for you.” Grandfather Lute continued, “And I’m not sure about Harp, Shell, and Matt.”
“No tea for them,” confirmed Big Red. “That leaves me, Jana, Bill, Slim, and Mark.”
“And me,” said Grandfather Lute.
“No,” said Big Red firmly and with a smile. “Too old.”
“Who’s old!” Grandfather Lute blurted and then with a laugh said, “Come over here so I can hit you.”
Big Red laughed. “I’ll stay here, thank you. Should we draw lots?”
A bowl with names was prepared and Grandfather Lute drew Mark’s. Everyone looked at Mark. He stepped up to the table and raised the cup. He stopped and looked nervously about. “I feel a little like a bug under the magnifying glass,” he said. “Everyone get a cup of tea and let’s sit as if we are just drinking tea together. I might be more comfortable.”
Bell and the twins brought tea for everyone. “Here goes,” Mark said and took a sip. “The taste is not bad; it’s sort of musty or earthy.” He took another sip. “I don’t feel anything,” he said taking a gulp. He put the cup down on the table. “I guess the tea is not working.” But contrary to his words he was up and pacing back and forth. “I think I’ll go work on the new coach instead of wasting time here.”
“I think you should stay with us a little longer,” Big Red urged, standing and moving toward Mark. “Don’t be rash, no telling how long the tea takes.”
“Rash! I’ll give you a rash,” Mark shouted leaping at Big Red and shoving her in the chest.
Surprised, Big Red stumbled back. Mark drew his sword and threatened loudly, “Come on you tall bunch of bones, I’ll cut you to ribbons.” He swished the blade back and forth and dashed at Big Red.
Big Red, reluctant to draw her sword, turned and quickly backed away from Mark.
Mark stopped his advance and his manner changed. He stood straight, puffed out his chest and said, “Ah, I see, you cannot fight me; love is what you want. Come here my red-haired beauty, and I will shower you with kisses.”
Grandfather Lute moved toward Mark, “Mark,” he called gently. “Mark.”
Everyone came behind Grandfather Lute as he approached Mark. Mark waved his sword at the group. “She is mine, old man, hands off.” Mark watched them advance. “Stop! Stay back!’ He began whipping the blade back and forth up and down at frantic speed.
Jana, sword in hand, approached but backed away from his wild swordplay. “What can we do?”
“Bell,” said Book. “Bell,” echoed Page. Jana looked puzzled but Bell nodded and moved closer to Mark. Jana, shocked, stepped forward. “You need a sword, Bell, or a staff.”
“Do you?” Grandfather Lute asked her.
“No, Grandfather, I don’t want Mark to be hurt.” Bell opened to the One Wave and the shimmering vibration of the environment. Mark swung wildly back and forth offering no opening. The pattern, the path through the energy, displayed before Bell, and she stepped into Mark’s movement. Suddenly, the sword flew from Mark’s hand, and the blade buried itself in the ground at his feet. Bell hugged Mark around the shoulders and led him to the outdoor table to sit.
Big Red and Jana stood with their jaws dropped open. “What happened?’ Big Red stammered. “Impossible,” Jana said with wonder.
Mark sat on the bench and put his head on the table, cradled in his arms. He moaned. Feeling his forehead and pulse, Shell began to sing a healing melody.
Jana and Big Red converged on Bell. “How did you disarm him without even moving?” Jana asked.
“Where did you learn a move like that?” Big Red wondered.
“Bell is very talented with using the One Wave,” Grandfather Lute said proudly. “She can try and teach you the technique. Some of us have learned a semblance of the talent.”
“Yes, Bell,” Big Red said. “Please do teach us.”
“I’ll try. But first we must tend to Mark.”
“Yes,” Jana agreed. “My understanding is he may have more bursts of vigor. So we may have to keep an eye on him for a while. I think Big Red should stay with him so he can be near his true love.”
“Ha!” Big Red snorted at the tease. “At least he is good looking.”
Bell watched the interchange between the two scouts with interest. She had never heard women talk in this manner.
“Shell is caring for Mark,” Bell observed. “I’ll teach you my trick, if you tell me about men.”
“By Yil, she wants to know about men,” Big Red said with a laugh.
“You will find no experts on men around here,” Jana countered. “But we do have one or two suspicions about their behavior we would be happy to share.”
The three moved away from the others so the scouts could learn Bell’s technique.
The Butte
Noster pointed to the newly formed blood riders being herded across a pool of dark red liquid. “The present crop of Crim mushrooms is at its peak and the solution is very potent. The mushroom opens channels to the Primal Vibration which allow the blood riders to throw energy and also to learn at an accelerated rate.”
“Where do they go from here?” Bast asked as if he was interested. He wanted to humor Noster at all times.
“Right into training,” Noster said proudly. “I am adding hundreds a day to my force. My blood riders will prove their worth, Bast, mark my words.”
“Has mental contact improved?” Bast asked. “There was some problem with the early ones.”
Noster drew up in a sudden rage and shouted, “Do you question my abilities?”
Bast stepped back and threw his hands up in fear. “No, Lord, of course not. The early Crim mushrooms were weak, not like now. I meant no offense.”
The Dead Wind Page 22