by John W Fort
CHAPTER 6
Raef bounded into the house, but came up short at the feet of his father, who was standing rather imposingly just inside the door.
“What is this?” Folor asked, holding a bench up by one leg. One of the four legs was wrapped with twine.
“It’s the broken bench, I mended it, like you asked.”
“This is your idea of mending a bench?”
Folor gave the bound leg a sharp twist and the twine broke allowing the broken leg to fall to the ground. Raef felt the color drain from his face.
“If anyone had sat on this, it would have broken, and they would have been hurt.” Folor said, “You needed to cut a new leg, not tie the broken one together!”
Raef’s eyes teared up, “You just said to mend it; I didn’t know you wanted me to replace the leg.”
Folor threw the broken bench across the room, and it crashed against the wall.
“Raef, you have ten seasons now; I shouldn’t have to explain everything to you. I meant ‘mend the bench,’ not ‘mend the leg.’ Is that not obvious?”
Raef looked at the ground.
“And where were you, anyway? You should have been home long before now.”
“Outside, playing with Domik.”
Domik was a youngling his age whose family had moved to the village earlier in the season. They were Intercessors like Raef’s family, but Domik’s father was a kitchener, preparing food for the poor and for some ceremonies.
“Playing!” Folor exploded, “You good for nothing welcher,” Folor slapped his hand on the meal table. “I give you one small task, and you do it as poorly as possible so you can run off and play.”
“No, Father! I … I didn’t know how to mend it.”
Folor seemed not to hear, “When I had your seasons I worked all sun’s journey long after lessons in the herb garden and then again each late sun assisting the scribes for extra money to help our family!”
Raef stood in front if his father, silently crying.
“Get out there and find a proper branch for a leg. Cut it to length, carve it into shape, then pound it into the socket. Is that clear enough!”
“Yes, Father.”
Folor tossed the two broken pieces of the bench leg to Raef.
“Gone with you!”
Raef dashed out of the house and down the road until he was out of sight of his home. He slowed and realized he was crying aloud, so he tried to stop. Younglings of ten seasons were not to cry out loud, especially the males. He wiped his face with a sleeve and walked to the Intercessor stable. The Intercessors, like each of the other classes, oversaw a small complex of buildings used in their work. The Ceremonial Lodge was, of course, the largest but that was only for observances. The Keep was where the Keepers, scribes and their assistants worked, and it was next to the Ceremonial Lodge. Next to the Keep was the kitchen, apothecary and pantry together in one structure, then the dormery where male apprentices lived, and finally the stables. The Healing and Training Lodges were down the road near the village square. The stable, in addition to holding the Intercessors’ horses and carts, was where the common tools were kept. Any Intercessor family could ask to use the tools, but as the son of a Keeper, Raef would not need to ask to borrow them.
Raef entered the back door of the stable, hoping no one would see him because they might notice that he had been crying. He smelled the sharp scent of animal dung as he entered. He found a whittling knife and a small saw and took them from the bench where the tools were kept. He snuck out the back door again before anyone saw him. Raef cut between houses rather than use the roads until he was in the forest, still trying to avoid being seen.
Once under the cover of trees he started to cry again, even though he did not want to. He could not stop crying this time. At least no one would see him here. He took his time finding a suitable branch to make the leg; he was in no hurry to go back home. Still crying as he worked, he cut the branch with the saw and did the whittling in the forest too, using the broken leg as a template. It would have been easier in the stable where there was a workbench, but he would rather be alone.
He didn’t know why his father was angry with him so often. Raef was fairly sure other younglings his age were not expected to do as much as he was. Certainly Domik was expected to do very little besides attending daily lessons. It wasn’t Raef’s fault his father grew up in a time of hardship where he had to work even as a youngling. Raef tried to concentrate on whittling, being sure to leave the top end a little wider than the original so it would stick in its socket.
When the leg looked as close to the original as he could make it, Raef left the forest, returned the tools to the stable, picked up a wooden mallet, and went home. He sighed relief when he saw Folor was not in the house. The bench was still laying against the far wall where his father had thrown it. Raef dragged it back to the table. Raef did the best he could fitting the new leg to the bench, then pounded it in with the mallet. He was careful not to hit so hard that it split the new log or the bench. Raef looked the bench over. He saw nothing wrong with it but was still afraid it would not meet his father’s approval. He didn’t have to wait long to find out. Folor came in to inspect his work just as he finished.
“This is fine,” Folor said, upon inspecting the bench, “but I want you to remember not to leave a job half done, only to go play. Come out back.”
Raef began to cry quietly again as he followed his father outside and behind the house. Behind the house there was a privy and a low shed where the firewood was allowed to dry. The wood shed was also where Folor kept a leather strap for punishment. Raef loved to sit and whittle bits of wood here, but he had many memories of humiliating whippings as well. This would be one more to add to them. He took his beating then ran to the stable to return the mallet. Raef tossed the mallet on the bench, not pausing to put it away properly, then ran straight for the woods.
Once behind the cover of trees he went to the deepest part of the woods he knew, his hidden place in the ravine. He was glad to see that Rail was there, waiting. Raef ran to Rail and buried his face in the great dragon’s neck. As he cried he felt a talon gently encircle him.
“It’s okay now, Raef,” the dragon said, “I am here for you. I will always be here for you.”
Raef looked up at Rail through tears.
“How can you always be here? You live in the mountains.”
“I can see your village from the sky. I come here any time I see you walking down the path to our secret place.”
Raef pressed a check to the soft underside of the dragon’s neck. He remembered being afraid of Rail when he was younger. That was seasons ago. Rail was his friend. Raef had visited Rail with DeAlsím many times, but DeAlsím had gone missing a season past. The rumors were that he ran away to Moss Rock to find easier work as he was a lazy greenling. Raef missed him. Chaz and the other Warriors almost never spoke to Raef anymore, and he was still getting to know his new friend, Domik. It was a lonely time, but Rail had been here for him. Raef felt the dragon nuzzle him, and he smiled.
“What shall we play,” the great dragon asked.
“Can I climb on your tail?” said Raef.
The dragon rolled its eyes, “You only want to climb on my tail?”
Raef grinned wide, “Not just climb. You know!”
Raef ran to the end of the dragon’s tail. Rail arched its tail so that the middle of it was high in the air. Raef giggled and began to climb, holding on to the hairy main. Raef reached the highest point then lay down and wrapped himself tightly around it.
“Okay, I’m ready!”
“Ready for what?” the dragon asked.
“Move your tail!”
Rail slowly lifted its long tail and began to move it up and down slowly.
“No, faster!” cried Raef.
The dragon complied and began to move its tail up and down fast enough to make Raef’s hair fly in the breeze.
“Go in circles!” Raef yelled.
The dragon began to spin its
tail in circles and Raef laughed with glee. This was much more fun than the childish games DeAlsím used to play with Rail.
“Wait, let me get off a moment,” Raef said.
The dragon slowed its tail and set it on the ground. Raef slid off and walked to the end of Rail’s tail, near the very tip. Raef paused a moment, feeling his stomach flutter nervously. Then he wrapped himself around the tip of the tail, so his feet were right at the end.
“Okay,” Raef said, “do it now!”
Raef felt himself zoom into the air, much higher than before. He had to keep his eyes closed or it would be too frightening. He could hardly breath he was moving so fast. He hung on with all the strength he had, afraid he might suddenly fly off.
“This is really high!”
“You aren’t even looking,” the dragon said calmly, “come, open your eyes.”
Raef opened one eye and saw he was far above the ground, very far above it. He let out a squeak and closed it again. Raef felt himself falling down, then swooping back up again. This end of Rail’s tail moved much faster than the middle. Finally, after two more swings on the dragon’s tail, Raef opened both eyes and dared to look. The trees seemed to rush by in a blur as he was flung up and down. His whole body tingled.
“Okay, Rail, let me down a moment.”
The dragon slowed its huge tail and slowly lowered Raef to the ground. Raef let go and rolled off onto the ground, lying on his back. He was still panting fast.
“That was really great!”
Rail curled its long neck around to face the youngling. It stuck out a long tongue and licked the top of Raef’s head.
“Stop it!” Raef said with a giggle.
“Are you done?” the dragon asked.
Raef stood up slowly and took a deep breath. Then he eyed Rail with a mischievous grin.
“Let’s do it again, but make me go in circles this time!”
When Raef finally walked out of the forest, it was nearly dark. He realized he had lost track of time while playing with Rail. He was suddenly worried about getting in trouble, especially after being whipped once already. Raef began to walk quickly down the path to home. He began to feel guilt settle over him from visiting Rail again. The dragon, that is. He felt guilty now even thinking its name. None of his friends visited the dragon, at least that he knew of. Chaz and his Warrior friends seemed to truly hate the dragon. Raef could only imagine what they would say to him if they ever discovered that he played with the dragon. And his father! Folor only spoke of the dragon as pure evil, how could Raef keep returning to something that was evil? Raef had not dared tell Domik, his newest friend, about the dragon. Domik and his family were Intercessors, dedicated to spiritual matters of the village. Certainly Domik would never purposefully visit a dragon.
Raef walked faster until he emerged from the trees behind his home. He tried to sneak in the door, but his mother saw him as she was setting the table for last meal.
“Raef, get washed up,” she said, “its time for last meal.”
The privacy curtain around his parents’ bed opened, and Raef saw Folor emerge from behind it, wearing his regular clothes now rather than his red Keeper robe.
“Ready to eat?” Folor asked.
“Yes, sir,” said Raef.
He walked quickly across the room to the washbasin to clean up. He was relieved that neither of his parents seemed to have noticed how long he’d been gone, but he still had a tight feeling in his stomach. After washing he came to the table, taking his place by his sister on the newly repaired bench, and pulled his eating knife from his sash. His sister passed their mug and he took a drink. The others began an animated conversation about something that was going on in the village. Raef cut a piece of meat and took a spoon full of pottage from the serving pot to put on his trencher. Raef didn’t bother listening to find out what his family was so excited about. He had a hard time looking any of them in the eye.
After last meal his sister Irah washed the pot and wooden serving plank while Raef took the used trenchers outside. Now that he was older it was his job to take these stale pieces of bread to give to the poor for food. The used trenchers were soaked in meat and vegetable juice, which was better food for the poor than just hard, stale bread. It was dark, but the light from the windows of nearby houses lit the road well enough to see. Raef walked past the Ceremonial Lodge then on to the Common Hall. This is where some of the poorer Laborers and orphans begged for food during late sun. A group of small younglings approached him, and he tossed the used trenchers to them. They snatched them up and ran off together, gnawing on the hard bread as they went. Raef thought it a bit rude of them not even to say, “Thank you.” He turned back toward home but took his time walking.
When it was time for bed and his parents and sister were behind their privacy curtains, Raef changed into his night robe and lay on his bed on the floor. Memories of Folor yelling at him and spinning on the dragon’s tail swirled together in his mind in a confusing fog. It was hard to fall asleep. When he did, he did not sleep well, waking twice with nightmares. He woke the next sunrise with his upper body hanging off of the bed onto the floor and his covers all twisted up around him.
✧
Erif returned to camp from the pool in the hills. The vision had stopped for a moment, but he knew he may not have much time before it began again. He tossed open a wooden supply box, digging into it’s depths.
“Aha!” he said, “I knew you were in here.”
Erif pulled a cylindrical object from the box and untied the strings around each end. He gingerly unwrapped it; a long piece of parchment, one of the blanks he had for writing to Tama. Usually he cut off a small piece to make a letter from, but this time he curled it back up, snatched up a quill and inkwell, and ran back to the path that led into the hills.
“I’ve got to write this down. The villages need to understand this.”
Erif hurried back to the small pool of water. He new more visions were coming.
✧