Bhotta's Tears: Book Two of the Black Bead Chronicles

by J. D. Lakey

  Tam looked down at Cheobawn, a question on his face.

  She shook her head. “It is not weather. The Mothers are mistaken,” she said, then pressed her lips together, afraid to reveal too much.

  “Thanks,” Tam nodded to Kirlan. “We won’t be going too far. Maybe we will spot the bennelk if we get high enough.”

  “High? Hey, what’s that you got on your back, anyway?”

  “We’re going flying,” Connor said with a grin.

  Kirlan squinted down at him, a sour look on his face.

  “Sure ya are, kid. Get going before I think up a reason to cancel your foray.”

  The Pack laughed, skipping through the doors as Kirlan slapped his palm against the gate trigger. Even Cheobawn managed a smile as she fell into step behind Tam. They were out of the dome, free. She was not absolutely clear what her next move would be but Bear Under the Mountain’s pleasure was palpable in the air. He would let her know when the time was right. She could relax for the moment.

  Tam set a good pace through the fields, singing a nonsense rhyme to match the beat of his feet. Megan took up the chorus and Alain filled in the harmonies. Connor laughed. He began to dance, stamping his feet to the rhythm as he marched along. Cheobawn let go of her worry for a brief moment, breathing in their joy. She took it, reinforcing it with her own. Then she wove it into the ambient. It amazed her, how easy it was, to build a psi field made of nothing but happiness. She pushed the bubble of joy out around them, wishing with all her might that they stay inside it, safe and invincible.

  Tam stopped them at the edge of the forest, adjusting the weight of the pack on his shoulders before taking his bladed stick from Alain. Go softly, his fingersign said, and stay alert.

  Cheobawn pulled her own bladed stick from its moorings on her daypack just like everyone else but she was going through the motions to ease Tam’s mind. It felt oddly alien in her hands. She was certain she would not be needing it.

  Their Alpha waved them into motion. The scree slopes were more than a click further up the trail. It would take them well over an hour to get there but long before that, not far ahead, a curiously bright place waited for them in the ambient. This was her next goal.

  Tam set a fast pace, making it hard to watch for clues, especially as she didn’t know exactly what she was looking for.

  Then she saw something that made her smile. Bennelk spoor, unmistakable by the short spread of the three clawed toes. The tracks came up the slope out of the marshlands to the south and paced the trail for a while before dispersing into the underbrush. She knew what she had to do next. Was this the handiwork of Bear Under the Mountain? He was too clever by far.

  “Stop,” Cheobawn called softly, stepping to the side of the trail.

  Tam turned, concerned.

  “What happened? Are you hurt?” he asked quietly, his voice pitched so that it carried no further than her own ears. He turned to join her but she held up her hand, stopping him.

  “I need to ask you a question but first I have to show you something.” Cheobawn felt the warm bubble of Herd Mother’s warding push against her back, sliding around her and sucking her in. She stepped away from the trail and pressed her forehead against the strong comfort of Herd Mother’s foreleg.

  You came, Cheobawn thought, her mind full of wonder and heartfelt gratitude. How did you know?

  Herd always comes when fawn is in danger, Herd Mother said, amused that her fawn had doubted her. What troubles you?

  Cheobawn gave Herd Mother an image of a vague shadowy monster with big teeth in the southern forests near the Escarpment. This is the eater of fawns, she thought.

  Bite with teeth, slash with tusks, kick with spurs, Herd Mother snorted, stamping her feet. Cheobawn shook her head. She was no more willing to risk Herd Mother than she was Hayrald or Sybille or Tam.

  I am here, on the North Trail, far from the edge of the world. I am small. I must run far but my legs are short, Cheobawn thought.

  Herds must stand shoulder to shoulder, antlers lowered, to face the teeth of the leopard.

  Cheobawn was confused by that answer. Will you carry me south to the edge of the world?

  Herd Mother, amused, gave her images of loping down a dark forest trail.

  “We’ve seen this trick, wee bit,” Tam called softly, annoyance heavy in his voice.

  “Cheobawn! This is not funny. Stop hiding, right now,” Megan said crossly.

  They are my herd. Will you let them see you? Cheobawn asked.

  She felt the wards drop all around them. She blinked in surprise. So many. The dome had three dozen bennelk trained especially for patrols. At any one time, two thirds of them were kept out in the paddocks, recovering from the need to be at constant battle readiness. She had not realized Herd Mother had brought them all. More than twenty bennelk ringed the Pack, watching them, their ears flicking nervously.

  Tam’s head snapped around in a quick survey, his hands tightening on the handle of his bladed stick. The other children, well trained, shifted a step or two, turning a column into an outward facing circle without making any overtly aggressive motion.

  “What are you playing at, Cheobawn?” Tam asked levelly, his anger making his voice hard edged. The other children stood, pale faced and wide eyed. One could not blame them for their fear. The bennelk could stomp them all into jelly if they took it into their mind to do so.

  “A thing came up the Escarpment. It is … unspeakable, and it is wandering unchecked in the forests above Meetpoint as we speak. I have to go meet it.”

  “No, you don’t,” he said firmly.

  “This is none of our business. You said so yourself,” Megan said, trying to reason with her. Cheobawn set her jaw and shook her head.

  “I was wrong. I have been wrong about a lot of things, lately. I am going. Herd Mother says she will take me. I do not think you can stop us. But I need a favor. I need a head start. Go flying like we planned. Stay out all day. Don’t report me missing until tonight.”

  Cheobawn watched Tam’s face. She could tell he wanted to grab her and shake her until her teeth rattled. His eyes flicked around the circle of bennelk as he swallowed that urge. Tam was no fool. He knew when he had been beaten.

  “Well, that is a stupid idea,” said Alain dryly. “I think we would be in twice as much trouble if we let you go off on your own.”

  Cheobawn thought so too but she needed this to be their choice.

  “They don’t have saddles,” Connor said skeptically, “or bridles, for that matter.”

  “Herd Mother says she will run lightly,” Cheobawn said, after listening to Herd Mother’s reassurances.

  “How are we supposed to get to Meetpoint? It’s a days ride under the best of conditions. There are rest stops along the way. Did you think to bring a map?” Tam asked, his face taking on a look of long suffering. The tightness eased around Cheobawn’s heart. She had him on her side once more. She smiled fondly at him.

  “Herd Mother knows the way. All we have to do is stay on,” Cheobawn said.

  Tam looked at Megan.

  “What do you say?” he asked.

  Megan stared at Cheobawn and then shook her head slowly.

  “She has done it again. The ambient is hers. Our future is our own to write it as we see fit.”

  Cheobawn cocked her head, listening hard. She tried to hear what Megan heard but the ambient roiled. There was no way to track the chaos when you stood in its heart. One thing was certain. Her Pack would be safe as long as they did what Bear Under the Mountain wished.

  She was going to hold him to that promise.

  “By all that is holy,” swore Tam, glaring at Megan. “The scariest thing about what you just said is that I think I am beginning to understand it. Let’s do this before I have second thoughts.”

  Tam began shrugging out of the wing’s packframe.

  “No,” Cheobawn said. “Bring it. Leave no evidence for the trackers to find.”

  Tam stared at her, perhaps questioning he
r sanity. Who could blame him. She was not totally sure she knew what being sane meant anymore. She suddenly had a new found sympathy for the temple acolyte who, caught up and tangled forever in a dreamstick trance, spoke only in riddles and forgot to feed herself.

  Oh, to have the luxury of letting go and losing your mind, she thought wistfully.

  Hurry, Herd Mother insisted, we will miss the chance to slash and kick. She dropped to her knees. Cheobawn mounted, scrambling up the side of the bennelk, using the knee bone and the hollow behind the elbow joint as toe holds, pulling herself up by the long wiry tufts of hair that grew in an upright ruff along the back of Herd Mother’s neck. Four other bennelk dropped to their knees as well. Tam helped Megan up and then clambered up his own mount. Alain and Connor, unburdened by a wing, merely vaulted into place.

  The bennelk got to their feet, turned carefully, left the trail, and began picking their way delicately back down the slope. She wanted to say something to Herd Mother, knowing the trails would be faster but then she stopped herself. Their direction would take them into the bogs, Cheobawn realized. It would be nearly impossible to track them over the soft ground. Most of their tracks would be lost under the black water. Was this accident or was the magic of Bear’s will turning the minds of the bennelk in the direction they needed to go? She shook that thought out of her head. She would not question her Luck nor the gifts it gave her. She had to trust what fate threw in her path.

  Cheobawn buried her fingers in the Herd Mother’s ruff and tried to relax into the rhythm of the body underneath her. Balance was everything, she discovered. Anticipating the animals moves helped as well. It only took her a few strides of their long legs to find the pattern of their pace. She settled into her seat and tried to relax. It promised to be a long day.

  When it seemed the rest of the children had also found their seat, the bennelk lengthened their strides. At the bottom of the slope they began to lope in a long, low, ground-eating pace.

  Herd Mother whispered an image into her mind.

  “Mother says to lay low along their backs to keep the branches from brushing you off,” she called softly to the children around her. The other children complied. Cheobawn buried her nose in Herd Mother’s neck ruff and gave herself over to the journey.

  Their progress slowed when they reached the sodden ground at the edge of the bogs. The bennelk fanned out, each navigating their own path around tussocks of grass and dense stands of brush, their strides short and quick. The animals knew instinctively not to let each step linger too long in the semi-liquid muck hidden under the dark waters.

  She lost track of time. Direction became twisted in her head as the herd found its way through the dense undergrowth. The heat turned the air into a humid cloud laden with flying bugs of every description, every one wanting to take a bite out of animal and human hide alike. When a ridge finally appeared unexpectedly in front of them, she thought for a moment that they had circled back to their start point.

  Panic made her heat twist in her chest. She grabbed frantically for the ruff as Herd Mother scrambled up the rough slope, a question on her mind.

  Where, she asked.

  Here, Herd Mother said, enigmatically, as her toes found the firm ground of a wide trail.

  Cheobawn sat up to look around. Was this South Road? She flicked that query at Tam. He nodded but there was a worried look on his face.

  What?

  We need to stop, rest, drink, he signed.

  Cheobawn broached the subject of rest with Herd Mother.

  Soon, Mother said. Cheobawn relayed the message to Tam. He grimaced, forced to be content with that answer.

  Soon, in bennelk minds, turned out to be a relative term.

  They left South Road, crossing over it and continued up the steep slope. By the time they hit the ridge line, the animals were blowing hard, but they did not stop. Cheobawn tightened her grip on the ruff under her fingers as the bennelk began to wind their way down towards the valley floor. Halfway down they emerged from the treeline onto yet another wide, well worn trail. This was surely Waterfall Trail.

  Still the bennelk did not stop. They turned their noses south and broke into a run.

  It was mid-morning when the animals finally slowed. They came to a halt at what seemed no more than a wide spot in the road.

  What is this place, she asked.

  First Camp, Herd Mother replied, waiting expectantly. A stream trickled down the side of the slope, pausing momentarily in a series of rock-lined pools before running across the trail and disappearing down the hill into a ravine. The unburdened bennelk were already standing shoulder to shoulder at the biggest and deepest pool, drinking deeply.

  Cheobawn slid off Herd Mother’s back. Her legs nearly buckled. The effort of trying to cling to a broad back without aid of a saddle had pushed her muscles to their limit. She tottered across the clearing and climbed a set of steps cut into the slope leading up to a pool high above the bennelk’s reach. There, she knelt and buried her face in the clear water. Megan joined her, sinking down with a groan.

  “Remind me to throttle you when we get home,” Megan moaned.

  “How do the patrols do this, day in and day out?” Cheobawn said.

  “I think I have blisters in places there should never be blisters,” Alain said, joining them.

  We need the treats, Herd Mother said patently. Cheobawn looked down at her.

  The what?

  Good food inside pods, Herd Mother said, looking up.

  Cheobawn followed her gaze. Half a dozen ropes dangled from sturdy branches high overhead, each holding a plasteel box. She let her eyes follow a rope up into the canopy and then back down to where it was slip knotted to a tree trunk. She got her feet and crossed to the nearest trunk.

  Cheobawn tugged hard on the rope but the knot resisted her pull. Tam reached over her head and gave it a hard jerk. On the second jerk, the knot popped open.

  Tam had a fist around the rope above his head, already prepared for that moment when the box wanted to come crashing out of the sky. He let the rope slide slowly through his fingers. Cheobawn crossed to the box as it thumped softly to the ground. Unlocking the catch, she found tins of trail rations and bags of feed nuggets.

  She opened the feed bag and, using the measuring cup inside, she made a dozen little piles of nuggets in the middle of the trail. She soon learned to place the piles far enough apart that there would be no squabbling or jostling. It seemed a paltry amount but she thought it unwise to let them overeat so early in the journey.

  Returning the cup to the box, she carefully resealed all the bags and locked the box once more. Tam hoisted it back into the air and tied it in place, leaving it as they had found it.

  Nibbling on a handful of dried fruit, she checked the ambient. It did not press at her as it had been. Perhaps Bear knew that children and bennelk needed rest if they were to do what was required at the end of the day. She wandered through the herd, trailing her fingers along their coats, pressing her hands against their chests. When their hearts had stopped pounding and the their skin had cooled, she tugged on Herd Mother’s ruff, letting her know it was time to move again. Herd Mother did not argue, but merely dropped to her knees as if she too thought it was time to run again. Four bennelk dropped to their knees, offering up their backs to the other children. They were not the same animals they had ridden on the first leg of the journey. The herd was sharing out the labor. Clever.

  Should I ride some other back, she asked Herd Mother. Do not tire yourself for me.

  Herd Mother shook her head in amusement, still waiting on her knees for Cheobawn to mount. Cheobawn hesitated, thinking to argue, but found she did not have the strength nor the skill to argue with the massive animal before her. She mounted.

  The herd sorted themselves out in a hierarchy that only they understood but as always, Herd Mother took the lead. They continued down the trail.

  The journey became a blur of bennelk backs, muscle aches, and the endless forest. The tre
es grew thicker and taller the further south they traveled. The shadows under the canopy grew darker. She let go of her worry, trusting that Herd Mother knew what she was doing and let her mind wander.

  It was then that she noticed the canopy over their heads was oddly silent. Were there predators about that kept the small things quiet? She tried to listen to the ambient. Bear Under the Mountain, busy elsewhere, did not press at her there perhaps because she was doing as he wanted. Star Woman and Eater of the Worlds were content, confident that she was walking blindly into their arms. The tunnel vision of her psi sense had eased a bit. She could hear the forest around her. No predator revealed itself as a cause for the silence. The unnatural quiet made her shiver. It was as if Bear’s tense anxiety lived in the minds of all the wild things, making them stay hidden, close to den and burrow. She closed her mind to the ambient, not wanting to be infected with its unease.

  When the sun was directly overhead, the herd stopped again.

  Let me guess. This is Second Camp, she asked Herd Mother dryly. Herd Mother agreed, thinking her clever. Cheobawn snorted in amusement and dismounted.

  There was more of a formal watering trough at this camp, fed by a hollow pipe that had been sunk into the side of a ravine. It seemed to be a natural spring. The flow out of the pipe was cold, clean and steady. The water fell into a u-shaped cut in the rocky slope, at a height handy for the bennelk.

  Cheobawn looked up and was not surprised to see the boxes over their heads.

  “They are called bear boxes. The treebears are too heavy to climb out on the branches and the boxes are impervious to anything smaller that might want to get into them,” Tam said, jerking on the nearest rope.

  She looked up at him. He had not asked all the questions she knew she would have asked in his place. Was he still angry with her?