“I have heard stories about the Freista; is it as bad as they say?”
Jahsin’s smile faded and he shrugged his shoulders trying to keep his eyes busy; when they met Talon’s, they darted somewhere else quickly. “I’ve survived almost eighteen of ’em,” he laughed without conviction.
Talon didn’t want to bring up any bad memories Jahsin must have had regarding the day, so he didn’t press the subject. They were far from the day, though, which wouldn’t be until the Sumar Mal when the season changed and the green came.
Freista was a night when one man from each tribe was chosen to go on a killing spree in the Skomm village; the Vald referred to it also as “the Culling.” The seven men killed anyone they found; whether they be man or woman, young or old, any Skomm became fair game. Tournaments were held for the entire week before Sumar Mal, and one winner was chosen to represent each tribe. The ultimate competition, however, was too see which tribe’s chosen one could collect the most heads. Legend told the record was one hundred; Talon didn’t want to know if the legend was true.
He shook the thoughts from his mind and gazed around the hut with a nod. “You did a good job; I couldn’t build something like this.” Even with two hands. He thought to himself. “How do you make these bricks?”
“Can only be made during the hottest days of Sumar. Well, I guess I mean the driest days. Can’t have no rain or sticky air; you’ll just end up with a soggy mess, eh. Most Skomm use a big stone oven to cook the bricks, but I prefer doin’ this kinda work by the olden ways. If you’re goin’ to build somethin’ as important as a Hus, you might as well do it right the first time, eh?” He patted the wall opposite the doorway. “Nope, she ain’t goin’ nowhere; built her on the driest days, I did.”
“Why is your hut a her?” Talon asked.
“I don’t know,” Jahsin shrugged. “You wanna sleep in a he? Just don’t sound right; we all came from women, ye know.”
“I know,” Talon stammered. “Just askin’s all. Could be you call it an it, since that’s what it is. It’s not a people.”
“It’s not a people…well no shyte,” Jahsin threw his hands up. “But it ain’t as romantic as she or her. Feikinstafir, man, you got more questions than a Vald village has arseholes!”
Talon laughed, Jahsin was the funniest person he had ever met. There wasn’t a lot of joking to be found in the Vald village. Jahsin showed Talon where he might put his things, by which he meant his tools for whatever job he was assigned by the Vaka.
The two cots were identical, with a wooden chest at the foot of each. Inside his, Talon found another pair of burlap trousers and a fur vest, and though they seemed too big for him, he thanked Jahsin all the same. He didn’t like the scratchy material; his wounds were still scabbing over and he itched all over when he moved around. But he supposed wearing the coarse material was better than being naked.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Jahsin,” said Talon.
“You just did,” he smiled. “C’mon, let’s go get some grub.”
“Good idea; I am starving. All Majhree fed me in that stuffy hut was gruel. What do they have to eat in the food tent today?” Talon asked with mouthwatering anticipation.
“Gruel,” Jahsin laughed.
“Such is my luck,” Talon sang.
Chapter 6
Vaka Kastali
They will try to break him with word and stone.
—Gretzen Spiritbone, 4977
After Talon had eaten as much gruel as he could stomach, Jahsin brought him around the sprawling village some more. Located on a high expanse of rocky earth at the center of Volnoss, Skomm Village stretched for miles east to west and was half as wide. The land deemed Skomm contained a few of the crops as well, along with rocky land and dark forests.
The commons Jahsin had mentioned turned out to be a series of long buildings made of stacked bricks of ice and snow called Svell Hus. Lining the walls inside of each of the ice buildings were rows of cots, each with a similar chest at the end. Tables had been set in the middle of the buildings every dozen beds or so; fire pits they placed in the center as well.
“They are warm enough during the long Vetr, but come Sumar they tend to melt, and everybody livin’ in them sleeps under the stars till they can be built again,” said Jahsin.
“And you have to smell everyone’s farts,” Talon laughed, quoting his friend.
“Exactly,” Jahsin chuckled. “Besides, ain’t enough fire wood for everybody to have their own Hus, not after the Vald’s needs are met. I cut trees for the Vald, so I got wood covered. Other people round here got other ways of getting’ what they need. Aside from makin’ our lives a livin’ hell when we are around them, the Vald pretty much leave the runnin’ of the village to the Vaka, and those traitors live almost as good as the Vald.”
Jahsin pointed at the large wooden building at the center of the village as they came upon it. Since it was the dead of winter, many tunnels and rooms of ice had been added to the wooden structure, which was the closest thing to a castle Talon had ever seen. The building rose up four stories and had a number of chimneys jutting out from the thatch roofs.
“That’s the Kastali; that’s where the Vaka live. They got everything from meat to ale to pipe weed in there—even women. But they can’t have kids just like the rest of us. When one of their unfortunate pleasure girls does get pregnant, the Vaka accuse some unlucky fool of causing it, and they are both killed,” said Jahsin with disgust.
Given what he had seen of Brekken, Talon didn’t like the Vaka much already; he made a mental note not to gain their attention. There was a reason the Skomm were also called Draugrs, or ghosts: the better they went unseen, the longer they lived.
“There are many Vaka for each of the seven tribes; your buddy Brekken is one of ours and just as crooked as the lot of them. They got their fingers in every bit of trade there is, and after the Vald, they get the best food and the finest furs. They even deal with the traders from Agora and pirates and the like. As the Vald are too busy practicin’ at bashin’ heads in to worry of such things. I suspect without us, the Vald wouldn’t last a winter.
Talon had lived with the Vald long enough to know that they did nothing but practice at warring. His amma had been one the few exceptions to the rule, as she was a highly coveted witch doctor, someone the Skomm were not allowed—the powers to be gained were too great to risk.
Talon had spent his life staying out of sight of the other Vald, and rather than learning to fight with the other Vald children, he had spent his days collecting the never-ending assortment of plants and herbs and animal extracts Gretzen used in her conjuring. Not a night went by in which Gretzen wasn’t trying to communicate with the dead or brewing elixirs of strength for the Vald. In exchange for her services to the tribe, she received whatever she needed, which often led Talon to wonder why she would choose to eat gruel most of the time.
While Jahsin showed him to the other end of the village near Dragon Tribe and back again to the far west, Talon kept his eye out for Akkeri. He had the urge to ask Jahsin what her job was, but he thought better of the idea, not wanting to give away his interest in her. Part of him trusted Jahsin was a good person, but he didn’t want to risk the teasing that might come with the revelation of such a secret. There had been many Vald children who had pretended to befriend Talon only to play some cruel joke on him for the entertainment of their peers.
They returned to the Vaka’s Kastali on their way back to their side of Skomm Village, and to Talon’s surprise, Jahsin brought him right up to the big wooden double doors. Carved into the thick wood was the face of each tribe’s animal.
“You gotta go see the Timber Wolf Tribe’s Vaka; Brekken told me to bring you at nightfall,” said Jahsin, leaning up against the building.
“What do they want?” Talon asked, eyeing the big building with apprehension.
“Just gonna ask what you are good at, or they won’t, but you are gonna be given a job either way. I’ll be right out here.”
&
nbsp; “All right,” said Talon with a gulp.
Jahsin rapped on the door behind him, and the echo of it rumbled louder than Talon expected. The doors opened wide and a flood of music and raucous laughter spilled out into the night. A man with no legs stared up at Talon with an annoyed expression on his face.
“Well, what do you want?” he barked.
“He is here for his Idja,” Jahsin said over his shoulder.
The legless man walked on his hands to regard Jahsin beyond the door. “Get your filthy arse off the Vaka’s wall!” he yelled. He glared back at Talon and turned around and walked back into the Kastali. “C’mon, then; you’re late,” he barked, and Talon followed reluctantly.
He tried to keep his head down, but the inside of the building offered such sights as he had never seen. The large gathering hall beyond the door was filled with lavish furnishings covered in fine furs; half-dressed women danced in a dozen randomly placed cages or sprawled their bodies across lounging Vaka. The strong smell of alcohol permeated the air, blending with the hovering pipe and opium smoke to create a right fine stink. A giant fireplace raged at the end of the room. At the center of the stone chimney hung the horned skull of a dragon, and all throughout the room were full skeletons of the seven tribes’ spirit animals. How the skeletons kept from falling apart Talon could not guess. Skomm men and women stood near the northern wall on a raised stage playing an assortment of instruments. The music was fast and cheerful, with sweeping notes lifting into the air to dance playfully with rushing strings, all to the constant rhythm of skin drums. Bones, whips, axes, swords, and even human skulls sat on display across the high walls.
The legless man led Talon up a short flight of stairs to the left of the den and from there onto a landing leading to the back wall and a room beyond. The man stopped at the door and absently nodded for Talon to enter. Inside he found the same furnishings and furs, along with a long table at which sat four Vaka; across from them was a single wooden chair.
Brekken sat among them.
Without instruction Talon took the seat.
“Who told you to sit?” Brekken barked, and Talon shot to his feet.
“I am sorry, Brekken,” said Talon, looking to the wooden floor.
“You are to address me as Vaka Brekken!” he screamed, and Talon could not help but flinch.
“Yes, Vaka Brekken,” Talon replied with a quick glance at the others. They all seemed to share Brekken’s opinion of him. He quickly stared back at the floor.
“Feikin Draugr!” Brekken cursed, and the others chuckled. “Good for nothing but shyte shoveling, this one.”
Talon stared at the floor hoping it would soon be over. There were worse jobs than shoveling shyte. He just wanted out of there.
“Do you have any skills?” one of them asked.
“Yes Sir…Vaka.”
“Look at Vaka Argoth when he is speaking to you, Plagueborn!” Brekken yelled and slammed his big fist on the table.
Talon jumped. “Yes, Vaka Brekken.” He gulped and looked to the man who stared at him expectantly. “In Timber Wolf Village I gathered herbs and plants and such for my amma. I know what to look for and where to find them, and I can…”
“Silence!” Brekken bellowed, and Talon stared at the floor once more.
“Your amma,” said Vaka Argoth thoughtfully. “Gretzen Spiritbone, yes? She is a skilled Ividia.”
Talon heard many grunts of agreement.
“You think you are too good for hard labor?” Brekken asked.
“No, I am just answering truthfully.”
“Endrbaga!” Brekken yelled, slamming his fist once more. “The Plagueborn thinks he is too good for real work. He wants to pick flowers with the women all day. I say he is sent to the mines where he can’t cause trouble.”
“The healers are always looking for more gatherers, and to find one with any knowledge beyond a lily and thistle is needed,” said Vaka Argoth.
Talon could feel the tension in the room build. He doubted Brekken would back down; for reasons beyond his understanding, the man hated him and was intent on making his life terrible.
“If he is so good at flower picking, he can do it in half the time,” Brekken replied, and the others grunted agreement.
“You will report to the western mines at first light every day; when the sun has set, you will tend to the healer’s needs,” Vaka Argoth declared.
“Yes Vaka Arg…”
“I know what you are up to, you filthy feikin Draugr; best you keep your hands off the wrong flowers,” Brekken warned.
Talon had no idea what he meant, and said nothing.
“Get out!” Brekken screamed. Talon needed no more incentive.
When he came out of the Kastali, Jahsin stood waiting, but he had not gone back to leaning on the wall.
“So how did it go?” he asked, looking as though he expected the worst.
“They gave me two tasks,” said Talon as they headed back west. “I gotta report to the mines every morning and then spend the nights collecting plants and things for the healers. Brekken seemed pretty mad when it was suggested I work with the healers.”
Jahsin laughed and patted Talon on the back. “You sly dog. I wonder why.”
Talon looked at him confused. “What?”
“Akkeri is an apothecary for Majhree and the others; why you think she was tendin’ to you when you was laid up?”
“Akkeri?” Talon repeated and his heart leapt. He was quick to hide his joy, but Jahsin read him like a book with one glance.
“Be careful, Tal, ain’t no way your feelings gonna bring about any good,” Jahsin said with sudden sobriety.
Talon barely heard what he said after mentioning Akkeri.
Chapter 7
The Iron Mines
Child of the Dogstar Moon, he shall endure the whip for the weak.
—Gretzen Spiritbone, 4977
Though he had not fully recovered from his beating after his Miotvidr, Talon reported to the ore mines the next morning. The walk took nearly half an hour from the Timber Wolf part of the Skomm village to the mines to the south. Jahsin showed him the way, saying it was not far from the forest he was working in. When they got to the mines, Jahsin tucked his big axe under his stump and patted Talon on the back.
“Good luck seems a bit out of place…Try not to die,” he said half-jokingly. “See you at sundown, eh.”
“Thanks, Jahsin,” said Talon as he looked around at the huge piles of earth and crushed stone. Black dust hung in the air around the entrance to the mines and blackened the surrounding snow. Skomm workers went this way and that, some pushing wheeled carts full of stone, others wheeling the iron ore to the blasting furnaces. Still others carried the bigger rocks to be piled up around the mountain of stone to the south. He knew half a dozen or so similar mines existed throughout Volnoss; he had seen a few from afar whilst gathering apothecary supplies.
The mines consisted not only of underground tunnels and passageways but also giant pits dug out of the earth, descending deep into the ground like stairs. The road wound from the bottom of the pits and spiraled up along the edges and out. Hundreds of men and women alike traversed those steep inclines, pulling or pushing carts full of ore and stone. The whips of mounted Vaka kept the pace, and drove the workers relentlessly. The Vald Barbarians were much too big for horses, and the Skomm were forbidden from riding them; therefore the only barbarians on Volnoss who used horses were the Vaka.
As Talon took in the overwhelming mines, an old man emerged from one of the pits carrying a stone nearly as wide as his shoulders. The crack of a Vaka’s whip made Talon jump, and the old man stiffened with the blow as he tried to balance his burden under such pain.
“Move your stinkin’ Bacraut, you feikin Draugr!” the Vaka overseer screamed from atop his mount. Another crack of the whip caused the old man to drop his heavy load and stumble to the ground.
The Vaka’s eyes lit up like a predator sensing weak prey, and his whip cracked against the o
ld man’s back mercilessly. Long bright slashes appeared on the man’s ragged shirt with every flogging, and through it all he tried to lift the stone.
Before Talon knew what he was doing, he found himself running to the side of the old man and helping him to lift the big stone up to his chest. The whipping stopped and the old man regarded Talon, horrified. He quickly shuffled off with the large stone.
“What in the hells you think you doin’?” screamed the Vaka as he dismounted his horse and stormed over to him. Talon turned his gaze to the ground quickly and bowed his head.
The Vaka overseer grabbed him by the ears and slammed his knee into Talon’s forehead, sending him flying to land on his back. A barrage of curses and whip strikes assaulted his body, and soon Talon was left gasping in the filthy snow. The pain of the whip was unbearable, and he had not been able to hold in his cries. The Vaka kicked him in his already sore ribs and lifted him by the hair. His rank breath burned Talon’s nostrils making his already turning stomach churn threateningly.
“You ever get in the way of Vaka Groegon again, I’ll kill ye. You hear me, you filthy Throwback?”
“Yes, Vaka Groegon,” Talon groaned and then lost his breakfast.
Groegon backhanded him in the face and dragged him to the edge of the pit and shoved him over the side. Talon hit the slant and fell hard and tumbled down to the next level of the spiral.
“Get your lazy arse down to the pit and get to work!” the Vaka screamed with the crack of his whip.
Talon half ran and half tumbled down five such slants carved into the pit until he came to the bottom. He grabbed the closest stone he saw and shuffled as quickly as he could toward the road out. The end of a whip slashed his back again, and he dropped the stone with a cry.
“What you think you’re doin’, Throwback?” another mounted Vaka yelled—this one was a fat man with a wooden leg and dirty teeth. “Get over there and help push the cart!”
Talon scuttled over to a group of men and women who were pushing and pulling a wooden cart heaping with broken stone. He found a place among the pushers and grabbed one of the many handles. The Vaka let the whip crack inches from their ears and began to holler.
Talon: The Windwalker Archive (Book 1) Page 5