Pools of Yarah

by J Gurley

  “Yes, I think so,” Kena replied as he examined the box. “Some are digital, using an internal power cell. The others operate on a wind up clockwork mechanism, probably used in situations near open power sources that might affect the digital timers. The batteries on the digital timers will be dead, of course, but the manual timers should function.”

  “They could prove very useful to us. Are they safe to carry?”

  “They should be harmless until the timing device is set.” Kena ran his finger along the edges of the box. “It appears to be ceramic, but I suspect it is an alloy with a stronger, lighter substance.”

  Grey Eagle’s attention had moved on beyond the box. He stared at the block of explosive for a moment as if deciding whether to trust Kena’s word of its safety. Finally, he took two of the blocks and placed them in his pack. “Show me how to set the timer. We will carry these with us. The rest we should hide.” He looked around. “You were right to want to come here. There are metals and devices that will make our lives much more bearable. We will return as soon as possible with many men in case we are forced to fight. First though, we must find the source of the water.”

  Grey Eagle’s words brought Kena back to the reality of the reason for their journey.

  “Yes,” Kena replied. “There is much here, but none of it will bring the water.”

  Hramack clambered down from his lofty perch, bringing with him another shower of dust. “I want to see more.”

  For the remainder of the afternoon, Kena, Hramack, and the others explored the wonders of the warehouse. It was a marvelous storeroom of ancient engineering, producing find after find of useful and often unidentifiable objects, and they had uncovered less than half of it. As the sun set and the building fell into shadows, they lit torches to explore further. One section of the building, separated from the rest by a wall and single doorway, drew Hramack’s interest. Venturing inside, he discovered rows of dusty shelves that had once held tens of thousands of books. Now, they were little piles of dust touched only by the wind. Empty crates scattered across the floor yielded only more dust. A few tattered books lay scattered around the floor, missed by the library’s pilferers. He picked one up, but it disintegrated dust as soon as he thumbed through the pages.

  Kena joined him. He ran his hand along one of the empty shelves and examined his hand.

  “Perhaps they moved the books into the dome,” Hramack suggested.

  “Perhaps,” his father said, “but it looks as though they have been removed more recently.” He pointed to a knee-high mound of sand that had pushed through the open door and spilled across the floor. “The dust on the floor is very thick except in a few oddly shaped spots. I believe more crates were once stored here and removed only recently. Only a thin layer of dust covers the area where they once rested. I would think they have been gone only a few months at most.” He raised his torch and pointed to two parallel grooves in the sand near the door. “Those are the remains of a wheeled conveyance.”

  “Then who took them? Marauders? For what reason would they need books, fuel to burn?” Hramack could not imagine Marauders reading.

  Kena shook his head. “It is curious.” He walked over to a shelf against the far wall containing stacks of thin crystalline wafers partially buried in the remains of the boxes that once protected them. Picking one up, he held it between thumb and forefinger to examine it. “I believe this is some type of data storage device. The crystal lattice structure could contain more data than all the books in this library.” He shook his head and placed the wafer back on the shelf. “It is a shame. If we had the reader that accompanies these wafers, we might learn so much. They could be a repository for the wisdom of our ancestors.”

  Seeing his father’s disappointment, Hramack said, “Maybe we can find one in the warehouse.”

  “Perhaps, but with no list of the warehouse’s contents or a means to locate them, it will be a monumental task.” His expression suddenly stiffened. “We had better rejoin the others. If the Marauders have been here, they may return.”

  Almost as if his words had been prophetic, Two Clouds stuck his head in the door and yelled, “Quickly! Marauders come.”

  Hramack’s pulse quickened. Their earlier battle with only five marauders had cost Grey Eagle one man. He did not want a second encounter.

  They found Grey Eagle outside the building directing his men to positions among the piles of debris in front of the building. True to his word, Grey Eagle would not allow Marauders to trap him in the city. Seeing Kena and Hramack approach, he motioned them to remain out of sight.

  “We are lucky the moon is but a sliver. They have not seen us yet. They march as if unaware we are here, but they will soon cross our tracks. There appear to be about twenty five of them.” He spoke as if unconcerned at the odds, over two to one in the Marauders’ favor. “These men seem healthier and better dressed than most Marauders we have encountered, and they move as if trained in fighting tactics.”

  “Perhaps they are the ones who have been raiding the buildings,” Hramack suggested.

  “Perhaps so,” Grey Eagle conceded, “but their weapons also seem equally improved. I see two men carrying crossbows. Others have metal swords.”

  Hramack looked closer and saw metal tips gleaming on the spears and arrows in the pale moonlight. “These Marauders know how to work steel.”

  “Or trade for it,” Kena chimed in. “Perhaps with items looted from the warehouse.”

  “Whatever their origins, they will be upon us shortly,” Grey Eagle reminded them. “Do we fight or run?”

  A yell from the direction of the Marauders reached their ears. With a sudden commotion, the Marauders split into two groups and began to approach the warehouse from two sides.

  “Curses,” Grey Eagle shouted. “They know we’re here and are trying to surround us. We must make a break for it before they pin us down. We cannot endure a siege.”

  “There is another door,” Two Clouds said. “Hramack discovered it.”

  Grey Eagle thought for a minute. “I have an idea.” He signaled his men to fall back toward the warehouse.

  “What is your plan?” Kena asked, running beside Grey Eagle.

  “They will follow us into the building. We will exit by the door Hramack discovered, and I will explode one of these bombs you found.” He pulled a block of plastique from his pack.

  “How will you know how long to set the timer?”

  Grey Eagle smiled. “I will wait until they are inside. Then I will pin them down with arrows. I will set the timer for a very short time. If I do not blow up myself and the Marauders, I will run as fast as I can to catch up with you.”

  “That doesn’t sound like much of a plan to me,” Hramack said, concerned at the risk Grey Eagle was taking.

  “It is the best I could come up with on such short notice. Perhaps you have a better plan?” he asked, staring at Hramack.

  “No,” he admitted chagrined for speaking up.

  “It’s decided then. Kena, you will take my men through the door at the rear of the building. Leave the city and travel as quickly as possible back to the river tunnel. Do not stop. Do not wait for me. I will follow when I have delayed pursuit.”

  *

  Grey Eagle watched his men leaving the building with Kena to make sure they were obeying his orders. When the last torch disappeared, he set fire to a pile of wooden crates near the door to provide some light. Then, he found a spot on a catwalk high above the door protected by metal girders supporting the roof. As he had expected, nine or ten of the Marauders poured through the door, immediately silhouetted by the flames. He fired an arrow and dropped one man. Wounded but not dead, he crawled away. The others quickly scattered for cover in military fashion. From his lofty vantage point, he fired arrows at anyone attempting to rush his position but he was hidden in the shadows. A second man rushed him and died, giving the others reason to pause. He wanted to delay them as long as possible, but knew he must act quickly before they split up
and decided to surround the building.

  He placed one of the explosives against one of the metal beams supporting the roof. If they were as powerful as Kena had claimed, it should bring the roof down on the Marauders. It would at least slow them down. Hoping that Kena knew what he was talking about and praying to Tawa, the sun god, that he had followed Kena’s instructions correctly, he set the timer for two minutes. He judged that allowed him just enough time to climb down and reach the door at a full run. He fired one more volley of arrows just to keep the Marauders’ heads down, and then pressed the timer. He turned to run and tumbled headlong to the catwalk with a bolt from a crossbow lodged in his upper thigh. Pain shot up his leg like fire.

  “Curses,” he yelled.

  He scrambled the length of the catwalk on hands and knees, leaving a bloody trail, knowing he would never reach the door before the explosion.

  A shadow loomed over him. “Take my hand!”

  He looked up to see Travin standing over him offering his hand. He extended his arm, and Travin yanked him from the floor, threw him over his shoulder, and raced down the catwalk as if Grey Eagle’s great size meant nothing. Arrows sounded like birds in flight as they whizzed past him. Travin dropped down the ladder first and waited, as Grey Eagle slid down using only his hands. He ignored the friction burn and concentrated on stopping before he hit the ground. Travin grabbed him and propelled him toward the doorway, hopping on one leg.

  They almost made it. The explosion lifted Grey Eagle into the air and deposited him with a bone-jarring thud on the concrete floor ten meters away. The sound of wrenching metal and the screams of men crushed by tons of falling metal and debris reached him just ahead of a cloud of dust and shower of metal roof panels. Grey Eagle rolled over expecting to see Travin beside him, ready to thank the hunter from Ningcha, but he was alone.

  Kena emerged from the cloud of dust. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  “I thought I told you to not wait for me,” Grey Eagle yelled.

  Kena smiled. “Yes, you did, but I have never been very good at following orders.”

  “Lucky for me. Now move it before they gather their wits.”

  Kena glanced around. “Where is Travin?”

  Grey Eagle shook his head slowly. “He saved my life by shoving me toward the door. He did not make it.”

  Kena looked at the pile of collapsed steel and started for it. “Perhaps he’s …”

  “No,” Grey Eagle said gently, holding Kena back. “None could survive that, I fear. Even so, we must leave, now. The explosion might not have killed all of them.”

  His words shook Kena from his stupor. He nodded and helped Grey Eagle to his feet and limped out the door. Two other men had remained behind with Kena and Travin to worry any pursuers and allow the others to escape. They saw the crossbow bolt protruding from Grey Eagle’s thigh, grabbed him from Kena, over his loud protests, and carried him between them like a sack of grain. It was an undignified way to travel, but necessity required he suffer humiliation for speed’s sake. He expected the marauders to overtake them at any moment.

  By the time they had covered the dozen kilometers to the river tunnel, his head was reeling from the pain in his leg and the jostling. To his consternation, most of his men remained above ground waiting.

  “I told you to leave,” he shouted.

  “And who would tell Chief Kosono of you absence,” Two Clouds replied with a wry grin.

  Willing hands accepted Grey Eagle and lowered him into the opening, where other hands received him. Before disappearing down the hatch, he watched Kena place the remaining explosive from his pack beside a wall of the building. At the bottom of the ladder, he pushed away from his helpers and stood on his own. The effort required was enormous, but he could not allow them to think him incapacitated.

  “I am not crippled,” he growled. “I can walk.”

  He limped out of the way while Kena and the others climbed down. The last man sealed the hatch behind him.

  “That should bring the wall down over the entrance, burying it under tons of stone,” Kena said. “It will take them a long time to dig us out.”

  They had gone only a couple of hundred meters along the tunnel when the shock of the explosion above reached them, reverberating down the tunnel. Satisfied they had stymied their pursuers, Grey Eagle collapsed cursing on the floor of the tunnel. Fire shot through his leg, blurring his vision.

  Kena kneeled and examined the wooden bolt protruding from each side of Grey Eagle’s thigh. “You are very lucky. It went cleanly through a the muscle without striking bone or any large veins or arteries.”

  Grey Eagle bit back on the pain and chuckled. “I feel lucky indeed. Someone bring dice, and we will roll a game or two for high stakes.”

  Kena carefully cut the sharp metal tip from the bolt with his knife. Grey Eagle winced at the waves of agony caused by Kena’s ministrations.

  “This will probably hurt,” Kena warned. “I can give you something to deaden the pain, but you will not be able to walk if I do.”

  “Yank it out and bind the wound,” he growled, impatient to be away from the Marauders.

  “I will count to three. One, two …,” then Kena yanked the bolt from his thigh. “Three!”

  Grey Eagle howled at the unexpected agony as fingers of fire lanced upward through his leg. “You can’t count,” he screamed, but then bit back on the string of curses he was about to unleash.

  Kena smiled and began tending to his thigh. The wound bled only a little. After applying an antiseptic and carefully wrapping the wound, he said, “You should be able to walk, but it will cause you considerable pain. We can make a litter and carry you.”

  “I’ll not be carried like an invalid,” Grey Eagle protested. “This is not my first wound. Hawk, give me your spear.”

  Using Hawk’s spear as a crutch, Grey Eagle pushed himself to his feet and hobbled down the tunnel. As Kena had predicted, the pain was excruciating, but he refused to give in to it. His men needed him. “Come, let us get away from this place,” he called over his shoulder. Behind him, the others scurried to catch up.

  *

  Hramack searched the group as they passed, and then asked Kena, “Where is Travin?”

  His father did not reply. Instead, he stared at the ground.

  Hramack’s throat tightened. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” Kena nodded.

  “Did he … did he die well?”

  Kena arched his eyebrows and stared at his son. “What a strange question?”

  Hramack shrugged. “It was something he said.”

  “He saved Grey Eagle’s life,” Kena replied.

  He nodded his head slowly. “Good. That was his desire.”

  The hunter’s death saddened him, but he was strangely pleased that Travin died as he had wanted. Whatever darkness dwelt in Travin’s heart, he hoped the hunter had finally found peace and the absolution he sought.

  21

  A Forced Marriage

  Teela had refused to attend the daily prayers since the sacrifice of the goat. She no longer looked upon her friends and fellow villagers in the same way. Now, the image of Chu Li’s dagger across the goat’s throat clouded their faces in a haze of spilled blood, their savage eyes looking on with eager anticipation. They had changed in dark ways, each one trying to offer the most fervent prayer to Yarah, as if the louder their voice the more Yarah would listen. She avoided them whenever possible except at the cisterns. There, she ignored the cold stares and accusatory glances they heaped upon her.

  Most appalling of all, the children no longer attended school. Parents kept their children close for fear that the sacrifice of the goat was only the beginning. She suspected that more than a few would gladly nominate her for sacrifice. Let them try, she thought. Their ignorance would not protect them from her wrath. She carried her grandfather’s dagger with her at all times at is insistence. If Yarah wanted blood, she would give it to Him.

  No, she reminded herself, they are frightened peop
le. The High Priest Chu Li was the real culprit. He played on their fears and emotions using the power of his office. From discord and chaos, he would step in and institute religious order. She wondered how long it would be before he withheld water rations from those who opposed him.

  She had just returned from watering Kena’s herbs, when Madras and Chu Li met her at the foot of the suspension bridge. She stopped and glared at the pair with her hands on her hips.

  “What do you want?”

  “We wish to discuss your future. Hramack is either dead or resigned to his new life as an outcast. In any event, he will not return to Ningcha to face his punishment. Therefore, I have abrogated your betrothal to him. As High Priest and Village Precept, as proscribed in our laws, you are free to marry Madras’s son, Juresh. Such a marriage will bless the village.”

  “I will not,” she yelled and tried to storm past him, amazed by the High Priest’s audacity. Hramack had tried to warn her, but she had thought him overreaching Chu Li’s malevolence.

  Madras grabbed her arm and held her, squeezing tighter as she struggled to free herself..

  “You will abide by the wishes of the Council,” Chiu Li warned.

  “In times such as these, the harmony of the village is foremost in my mind.”

  “You think to repay Madras for his silence in Eithan’s death, you mean.”

  The High Priest’s eyes locked onto hers like sharp daggers, and she knew she had said too much. “You’ve been listening to the demented ramblings of you grandfather. Beware. Your tongue will be your undoing. Bearing false witness is a mortal sin, especially against a servant of Yarah. You will marry Juresh. In dire times such as these, I do not require you consent. The law is on my side. If you go against my wishes, the wishes of the village, you could face the same punishment as Hramack.”