CIRCLES IN THE SKY (The Mother People Series Book 2)

by JOAN DAHR LAMBERT

  The next day, she felt much stronger. “I can look for the children now,” she told Torlan, rising slowly. Torlan put a strong arm around her and guided her down the hill.

  "We will travel as the children went," he said, "at the base of the cliffs."

  “Yes,” Katalin agreed. “We will walk until we find them.

  For five days, they traveled west, gradually increasing their pace as Katalin became stronger. Rubble was everywhere, but the cliffs in this area had not collapsed, and for that Katalin was grateful. If Lotar and Balinor had come this way, they had not been buried. Still, they could have been injured, or the men with knives who had followed Torlan's false trail might have found them and killed them.

  Her worry grew as the days passed with no sign of the children. She scanned the rocks constantly for a tuft of Balinor's light hair, for a small body, for blood. Once, she found a trail of red spots leading into the woods. Heart pounding in terror, she followed it. The trail ended at a small stream, and all she found beyond it was a depression where something had lain. Probably it was just a wounded animal, she thought, relieved.

  Each day, she felt less dizzy and tired, and by the time they came to the white trees, she had regained much of her energy. Her newfound strength abruptly drained away when she realized that the caves where the young Zena had sheltered had collapsed. Dropping to her knees, she dug frantically at the former entrance.

  "Zena! Lotar! Are you there?" She called the names over and over again, though she knew the answer already. There was no smell of smoke, no voices, no feeling of occupancy. Surely they could not all be dead, inside here...

  "Look!" Torlan's call interrupted her dismal thoughts. Katalin scrambled to join him at the crest of the small hill above her.

  Torlan pointed at a hole in the ground, partly covered by branches. Katalin peered into it. "They have been here," she said excitedly. "I know they have been here. I can feel them." Lowering herself into the hole, she saw the depressions made by resting bodies, the remains of food - nuts and berries, even bones from a small animal. Could the children have killed an animal by themselves?

  Her eyes darted around, seeking evidence, came to rest on a rough pile of rocks, with a platform on top. Beneath it was a circle of stones. "Zena," she breathed. "Zena has built this!" Another sight made her gasp with relief. Caught in a pile of leaves and twigs that had served as a pillow were strands of light hair. Balinor's hair; it had to be.

  Her excitement turned to despair when she climbed out of the cave and joined Torlan, who was kneeling by some rocks in the field below.

  "It is Taggart," she said wearily, burying her face in her hands. "And if he is dead, the children must be dead too. The earthquake must have killed them all."

  "I do not think so," Torlan answered. "The earthquake came many days ago, but some of the footprints I saw above are not so old as that."

  Hope flared anew as Katalin realized he was right. The berries she had seen, even the bones, did not seem that old, either. Perhaps Zena and the children had somehow survived. Running up the hill again, she examined the footprints around the hole. Some were so small they were surely Balinor's, others were a little larger, another still bigger, from a woman, she thought. One set was very large, from a big man. Had some of the ones who guarded Zena survived? Or had the men with knives come here?

  "The men who came to look for us might still be alive," she said fearfully to Torlan. "They might not have returned to the clearing, and so escaped the earthquake."

  "That is possible," he agreed reluctantly. "The one who claimed you, Borg, is not a bad man," he added, "not as bad as the others."

  "All of them are bad," Katalin snapped. "If I saw him again I would push my knife into his heart."

  "I would not," Torlan said mildly. "He helped me."

  Katalin did not reply. She did not wish to think of Borg. He had forced himself on her many times, but to her surprise his attentions had not been entirely unpleasant. The realization made her angry and confused. She pushed it away and concentrated instead on following the trail.

  "Look!" She pressed Torlan's arm. "Berries, red berries. That was how Lotar marked his way when he wanted me to find him in the woods. He left a trail of berries."

  Excited now, she began to run. Torlan grabbed her arm to restrain her. "We must go carefully," he warned.

  Katalin slowed down, but her heart still beat rapidly with excitement. She was certain now that Lotar was alive, probably Zena and Balinor as well, for she had seen three sets of small footprints clearly when they had crossed a muddy area.

  The berries stopped abruptly. Katalin searched but could find no more. "Perhaps he had no more berries," she said doubtfully.

  "Look," Torlan replied. "I think he has left another sign."

  Scratched into the earth were deep gouges, made by the pointed end of a stick. Katalin grinned. "Lotar is a clever child," she told Torlan. More clever than I realized."

  The marks continued for two days; then they stopped abruptly. Katalin and Torlan were about to search for more marks when noises erupted from the woods.

  "Let me go, you fools! I am Borg, whom you know. To hit me and tie me in this way is a disgrace." Katalin did not understand the words, but the voice and the name Borg registered.

  "Behind these bushes," Torlan whispered. Katalin needed no prompting. Already, she had concealed herself behind the thickest bush.

  Another voice came, one that sounded familiar to Katalin. The tone was brutal, demanding. "Where, then, are the woman and the children? We saw them with you. Do not pretend to us that they are not here."

  Borg’s voice sounded again. "They have gone by themselves. Of what use is an old woman and some children? They only get in the way."

  Abruptly, Borg appeared in the clearing. He was rubbing his wrists and had a large red welt on his forehead. Katalin frowned, wondering what had happened to him, but she dared not ask Torlan. They were too close; even a whisper would be heard.

  Another man followed Borg. Katalin recognized him immediately by his flaming hair, and shuddered in fear. She did indeed know that voice - it belonged to Vetron.

  More voices came from the woods. "He is lying. They are in the tree. I will bring them." Katalin smothered a gasp as two more men appeared, dragging Zena and Balinor with them. Balinor looked terrified, and Zena had a protective arm around her shoulder. Behind them came Marita. But how was it possible that Marita was here? And where was Lotar? What had happened to Lotar?

  Marita's voice rang out. "Let these children go! They have done you no harm. How can you call yourself men and harm small children? That is wrong, not the way of the Goddess or any other, no matter how cruel. You are fools and cowards to do this. Let them go, I tell you!"

  The men paid no attention. Probably they did not understand, Katalin realized, and she was glad. Marita's words were not flattering, but she was brave to utter them.

  Marita ran out of words finally and stood looking at Borg, as if expecting him to help. That was strange, Katalin thought. After all, he was one of Vetron’s group.

  The men were arguing among themselves and pointing repeatedly at Marita and the children. Borg interrupted them.

  "These people come from the North, as I do," he said firmly in his words. "They are not Mother People, but are like us. Besides, the old one can make food; I know this because she has made it for me. And the girl is useful. She knows much of finding plants and herbs, and she will soon be grown. And though she is small, the little one is good at many tasks. To keep them alive would be wise, since we have so few left after the earthquake."

  The men looked dubious, especially Vetron, but they seemed eventually to accept whatever Borg was saying. Katalin wanted desperately to jump into the middle of the group and pull the children and Marita away, but she and Torlan could not fight four grown men. She would have to wait, take the others away by stealth. If Lotar was alive and she could find him, he would help.

  She pushed away an image of Lotar ly
ing dead in the woods, killed by these cruel men. Surely he could not be dead.

  "We go to the west," Borg told the other men, "for these people know of a good home there." Marita looked at him sharply. Had he not understood when she had said south? Perhaps, though, he was trying to fool the men who had captured them, so that if they escaped and went south, they would not be followed. She decided to say nothing.

  The men pushed them, to indicate that they must walk. Marita tried desperately not to look behind her for Lotar. He had climbed very high in the tree, and the men must not have seen him. To leave him behind was terrible, almost impossible, but she had no choice. Men like these would probably kill a boy child. Girls would bear young ones eventually, but boys were of little use to them. Marita could only hope that somehow, Lotar would be able to follow, and then they could all escape.

  Balinor began to cry. She wanted her brother and could not understand why he was not with them. Once, she called his name, but Zena stopped her quickly.

  "We must not call him," she whispered in the child’s ear. "Lotar will follow, but we must not let the men know he is there. It is like a game in which you try very hard to help Lotar hide from the men."

  Balinor nodded but she still looked miserable. To comfort her, Zena offered her a stick and showed her how to scratch marks in the ground as they walked, so Lotar would be able to follow. She and Lotar had done this in case Katalin came to look for them. Instead, the men with knives must have seen the marks and followed.

  Zena sighed. That Katalin would come now seemed very unlikely. Too much time had passed. Somehow, they would have to rescue themselves. The Mother would help them; of that she was certain. Pulling out the statue of the Goddess, which she kept in a small bag made of animal skin around her neck, she stared into the calm face.

  "Blessed Mother," she whispered, "we look for Your guidance. Tell us now what we must do to escape these cruel men." There was no immediate response, though Zena was confident one would eventually come. In the meantime, she would try to think of ideas herself, to help the Mother.

  Borg was suddenly beside her. "No!" he whispered urgently, pointing to the statue. "They do not like Mother People, or the figures. They kill..." His words stopped abruptly as one of the men came up beside them. Zena began to stuff the Goddess back into the bag, but she was too late. The man was looking at it suspiciously.

  Zena took the figure out again, face down, carefully keeping her hands over the big breasts and buttocks. She smiled calmly at the man as she cradled the statue like a baby.

  "My play doll," she said, crooning childishly to give him the idea. She hoped the Goddess did not mind being held in such an undignified fashion, but from the back, She did not look like a Goddess, and that was the point.

  The man grunted and moved away again. Borg followed, not wanting to be seen any longer with Zena. A flicker of a smile, quickly concealed, crossed his lips. The girl was strange, but she was also clever!

  Late in the day, they settled in a small clearing to sleep. The men demanded food, and Zena and Marita took Balinor into the woods to look. Borg followed, telling the other men he would guard them so they would not escape. They did not trust him entirely, and sent one of the others to watch as well. Borg concealed his disappointment.

  It was when they were gathering herbs to flavor the tubers and nuts and other edibles they had found that the idea came to Zena. She would find sleeping herbs, put them in the food. But the men must not become suspicious. And somehow, she must warn Marita and Balinor, Borg, too.

  She went to the young man who was watching. "I must go there for food," she said, pointing to a boggy area where the plants she wanted often grew. "You will help me?"

  The man hesitated, but he followed her reluctantly. Zena picked a big handful of leaves and seeds from the tall plants and took them to Marita.

  "These will help to give flavor," she said innocently. Marita looked surprised; then understanding came and she nodded.

  Zena went to Balinor. "Eat now," she whispered, handing her berries and nuts. "Only the men can eat the food we make later."

  Too hungry to wait, Balinor did not object. Zena went next to warn Borg but the other man stopped her. "Enough of talking," he said brusquely, and pulled her away.

  Zena and Marita pounded the herbs and nuts between rocks, stuffed them into deep cuts they had made in the tubers with a sharp stone and then cooked them in hot ashes at the edge of the fire. When they were soft, they handed them to the men. Zena had made two without the sleeping herbs and tried to make sure they went to Borg, but she thought he had taken one of the wrong ones when she was not looking. Fortunately the other men grabbed the rest before he could reach for more. They were very greedy, lazy as well, to expect herself and Marita to get all the food.

  Leaving two men to watch, the other men lay down to sleep. Zena waited anxiously to see what would happen. What if Borg, too, slept so heavily he could not be awakened? Then what would they do? Could they get away without him?

  The two watchers soon collapsed into slumber, and when Zena had heard nothing but snores for a long time, she decided it was time to try to escape. Just as she was about to reach over and shake Marita awake, the sound of stealthy footsteps stopped her hand. Warily, she raised her head.

  **********************

  Lotar stayed absolutely still until the sound of voices and footsteps had gone. He would follow at a distance, he decided, and then try to rescue the others. Perhaps he could creep up in the night and hit the men over the head with a rock. Even if he only hit one of them, that might help. He would try for the big one first.

  A bird call came so suddenly from below him that he almost fell. Was it possible? Could Katalin really be there? His heart began to pound with excitement, but he forced himself to stay still. It could be a trap.

  The call came again, the high, lilting call of a finch. That was strange. He had heard no other finches. Lotar made the sound himself and waited. The call was repeated, then a voice came softly through the branches.

  "Lotar, are you there? Lotar; it is Katalin."

  Lotar scrambled down. "Katalin," he called. "Katalin, you have come. Oh, you have come!" Tears made grimy tracks down his cheeks. Katalin pulled him into her arms, held him close as the fear she had held inside her for so many days drained away.

  "Lotar, they did not kill you... You are safe. I have been so afraid, so very afraid..."

  Unable to speak further, she buried her face in his dark hair. For a long moment, they held each other. Then Lotar squirmed away.

  "The others," he said. "They have taken the others."

  "We saw this," Katalin told him. "Together, we will rescue them. Somehow, we will do it." Her voice was grim, determined.

  Lotar looked up and saw for the first time that there was a young man with Katalin. "So this one is Lotar," the man said. "I am Torlan." He placed a gentle hand on Lotar's shoulder. Lotar liked the sound of his voice, but he was still dubious about any man who came too close to Katalin.

  "Torlan is my friend," Katalin assured him, seeing his doubtful face. "He will help us. But what shall we do?"

  "We must follow now," Torlan said, "before they go too far and we lose them."

  "Zena might make the marks," Lotar offered, "like the ones we made for you."

  "We found them, Lotar. That was a clever thing to do. Oh, Lotar, I am so glad to find you, that you are alive!" Katalin hugged him again. "But now you must tell me quickly what has happened to you since I saw you."

  Lotar related the story, told how he had found Zena trapped in the cave, how Marita had come and Borg had helped them. "He looks for you, I think," he said to Katalin, and the doubtful frown creased his forehead again.

  "That is why he helps, I think, so he can claim me again," Katalin replied angrily. "Or perhaps he wants Zena when she is old enough. I do not trust him."

  Lotar was about to say more about how Borg had helped them, then decided to keep quiet. After all, Borg had taken Katali
n by force, so perhaps she was right. Maybe it was true that he had helped only so he could find Katalin again, and when he found her, he would not want Balinor and himself, Marita either. Maybe he would even kill them. Lotar found that hard to imagine, but he did not want to argue with Katalin.

  "We could hit the men over the head while they sleep," he suggested instead.

  Torlan was doubtful. He knew Vetron well and did not think such a man could be subdued with a rock. Katalin, however, was enthusiastic.

  "That is a good idea, Lotar," she agreed. "We can manage it if we creep up on them, surprise them. But now we must be quiet. I think I hear them ahead."

  They went on cautiously, helped by the marks Zena had provided, until they came close enough to see the others, who had stopped for the night in a small clearing. The men began to quarrel with each other, and after a time Marita and the children went into the woods, accompanied by Borg and another man.

  "He guards them so they cannot escape," Katalin whispered furiously. "He is not helping now."

  Torlan was not so sure. "Why then did they tie him, hit him on the head?"

  Katalin looked surprised, for she had not understood Borg's words, or seen that he had been tied. Torlan began to explain, but one of the men peered into the woods in their direction and they dared not speak again.

  For hours, they waited in silence. Then, when darkness was complete, they moved stealthily towards the sleeping bodies, each clutching a rock.

  "We each take one of the three, then Borg," Katalin mouthed. Fortunately, the fire was still bright enough so that they could identify the men. Torlan hit Vetron, hard enough to stop him from moving fast he hoped, but not hard enough to do lasting harm. He had never been able to tolerate the thought of hurting people, even those as savage as Vetron. Katalin struck at the older of the two others, Lotar hit the third.

  To their surprise, the men only groaned and fell back into sleep, looking as if nothing would arouse them. Borg, however, sat up, looking groggy. "Katalin!" he cried eagerly, and held out a welcoming arm.