Several minutes later, she quieted down, took a deep breath, and wiped her nose on the back of her arm. She sat up straight and looked up at me.
“Thank you so much for coming for me, Diggory. Thank you so much. I can’t tell… I don’t know…” Suddenly she seemed very little and very young. When she spoke again, it was barely a whisper. “Mr. Diggory, can you please, please, take me back home?”
“Of course, Pickles. Of course, I will.”
We moved off away from the site of the battle and the corpse that would attract scavengers soon. It was getting dark, so I started a fire as Pickles and Ankosh set up camp. We ate a dinner of roast hodo and brai-alu, both of which Pickles thought were delicious. She ate with a powerful hunger.
“How long’s it been since you’ve eaten?” I asked.
“Oh, they fed me almost every day,” she said around mouthfuls of meat. “Just not much.”
“What happened? How did the kralsnar get you? When?” She swallowed a mouthful of food. “And slow down,” I said. “You’ll make yourself sick.” She nodded.
“I don’t know, a month-and-a-half, maybe less,” she shrugged. “Papa and I were on a trading trip with a glifi caravan when kralsnar attacked us. They killed a lot. They took me, and Papa… I… think he was alive,” she teared up but kept going. “I saw him fall down, but he was still moving when they dragged me away. The glifi fought back and chased the kralsnar away, but they still had me.”
“They kidnapped you?” I said.
Pickles nodded. “They made me carry their stuff. Like your Debbie!” She brightened at that last bit. From what Ankosh told me, Pickles had adored Debbie at the first meeting, and laughed out loud when she’d first seen the vedrad.
“Tell me about home, Pickles.” She hadn’t gone into detail yet and I was impatient to learn about the humans.
“Oh, it’s beautiful there!” she said enthusiastically. “It’s in a valley with a little river running through it and there’s a forest nearby and a lake where we go swimming, and there’s —”
“Tell me about the people,” I interrupted. “Who are they?”
“Well, Papa’s name is Jay and Mummy is Nandini,” she began, then stopped suddenly. “Wait, that’s not really what you mean, is it?” I shook my head.
“No, I mean, where do you come from? How did you get here?”
“I was born here,” she said, “but the older people came from Earth on a star ship.”
“The Jamestown?”
“Yeah! You know about the Jamestown!?” She seemed surprised.
“The Jamestown Disaster is taught in history class,” I told her.
“Really!? How did people on Earth find out about them being stranded here? And then why didn’t any ever come to rescue them?”
“No, they don’t know about you’re being stranded,” I said. “Everyone on Earth thinks the ship exploded on launch.”
“What? That’s crazy!” she exclaimed. “We—well, I mean they—came here and got trapped.”
“Did your parents tell you what happened to the ship when they came here?” She nodded vigorously while chomping on a full mouth of food. I smiled. “You can tell me after dinner.”
But after dinner she fell asleep. She was as still as a living human could be, even her breath barely causing her chest to rise and fall. Ankosh searched what passed for a campsite for the kralsnar but found nothing of value to us. I watched the girl sleep. She needed clothes.
I hauled my aching body over to our packs and dug around. Much of my cloth, including some of my spare clothes, had been repurposed as bandages. I found a long tunic that would be better than the rags she wore.
As tired as I was, I didn’t sleep well that night. My mind raced with images of a pending reunion with humanity. It had probably been a year or more since I’d seen D’Silva, and longer since I’d seen any others. Now I had met young Judith, and she’d told me there was, in fact, an entire village of us. The Jamestown passengers had survived, or at least some of them. I could only hope that Pickles could find her way home.
At one point I woke to find the girl huddled up against my back, shivering slightly. I threw my blanket across her and she settled back down to sleep.
The next morning she woke late, a breakfast of eggs and leftover hodo already prepared. Again she ate like she was starving. “This is so good!” she said with delight around one mouthful. Now I knew she was starving. No one who was well-fed would ever describe hodo as “so good”. As soon as she was done she leapt to her feet. “Are we going home, now?” she said with eagerness.
“Yeah, just about,” I assured her. “Do you think you can find your way back?” She nodded.
“I think so,” she said. “I mean, if you can get back to the place you found me, I think I can.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard,” I said.
“Can we go now?”
“Hold on, kiddo,” I laughed. “We’ve got a few things to get ready.”
Ankosh helped clean and change my bandages while Pickles looked on.
“Did this happen when you fought the kralsnar?” I nodded. “You just rushed down their to save us?”
“Yeah. Well, sort of,” I said. “We didn’t know you were there. We thought it was just those yellow-skinned creatures.”
“I’m so sorry about them. Were they friends of yours?”
“No, no, we’d never met.”
“And you tried to save them anyway?” I nodded. “Wow, so you’re like, a soldier, or a warrior, or something like that?”
“Nope.” I laughed when I thought back to my previous livelihood. “I’m a safety inspector.”
“That didn’t look very safe!” she laughed. “You’re really bad at your job, aren’t you?”
After getting doctored up I led Pickles to a creek we had passed on our way, leaving my spare tunic and a towel with her and instructing her to bathe and dress. Ankosh expressed his concern as we walked away. “Is Pickles safe alone?”
“She’ll be fine,” I said. “We won’t be far.”
A few minutes later, Pickles called out.
“Are you still there?” she said.
“Yeah, kiddo,” I called back. “Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m fine!” she said. “Just… just wanted to make sure.”
“Pickles should not be alone,” said Ankosh. “Ankosh or Diggory should watch over Pickles.”
“No, leave her alone. She’s bathing.” He stared at me blankly. “You can’t watch while she’s bathing.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“She’ll be naked,” I said. He stared blankly again. “Humans take off our clothes when we bathe.”
“There is no understanding.”
I sighed. “I’m not going to explain this all to you right now; it’s complicated. But among humans, it is not right for a man to see a girl without her clothes.”
“But Ankosh is not human nor a man.”
“True, but still. There have been plenty of times I went away and did things by myself and you didn’t follow me, right? Same thing here. It’s called ‘privacy’. We’ll stay close enough that we can hear her if she calls out. Trust me, Ankosh, it’ll be fine.”
“Ankosh trusts Diggory,” he said, but did not seem pleased about it.
“But I like the fact that you worry for her,” I said.
Pickles joined us a little while later, wearing my long tunic as a shortish dress, the mud absent from her face and arms. Her face was pretty-ish, if somewhat lean, and her now clean hair long and black.
“Oh, hey, there was girl under that dirt!” I teased her. She laughed. “So, while we retrace our steps, you can tell me your story.”
We packed up Debbie (who still delighted the girl) and began our journey. My flesh failed early on and I was obliged to ask Ankosh to “chair-up” and carry me. Pickles nearly shrieked in surprise when Ankosh began to melt—I hadn’t realized she hadn’t seen him shift yet. Her eyes popped wide as saucer and her mou
th dropped open.
“Whoa! How’d you do that?” Then Ankosh and I did our best to explain to her the bizarre life-form that he was. This led to countless questions and requests for demonstrations, so again the story had to wait.
Travel was slow. I was still recovering from my injuries and Pickles was young and malnourished. She and I took turns riding in the Ankosh-chair, but I could walk for far less than even she could. Pickles insisted on trying to ride Debbie.
“I’ve seen wild ones near the village,” she said. “We’ve never managed to catch any, but I always wanted to ride one.” I told her it wouldn’t work out well, but she was determined.
It worked out even worse than I predicted. Every time Pickles would try to hoist herself onto Debbie’s back, the beast would step forward, leading the poor girl on a slow-motion chase. Once Pickles caught Debbie’s reins and held her head still. Debbie just walked the rest of her body around in a circle. Trying not to laugh, I suggested she hobble Debbie. Pickles then climbed onto Debbie only to have the animal plop her haunches down, dumping the child off unceremoniously. The vedrad was a pack animal, not a mount.
We resigned ourselves to a slow journey. We rested frequently and talked often. Pickles wanted to know about Earth and how it had changed from the place her parents and their friends had known. She dominated most of the conversations with her questions, but bit by bit I gleaned the story of the Jamestown passengers. She was ignorant of some of the details of their arrival, but was able to tell me a lot.
The Jamestown had been designed to break into sections upon arrival and land independently, some for the people and other for supplies and tools. From what she told me, a large number survived, as only part of their ship was destroyed by whatever forces patrolled the skies around Wayworld. They were able to retrieve only a little of their supplies.
Fighting with the kralsnar had killed many, and led them to relocate a few times in the early years. They had been at their current home for about fifteen years without many incidents and had built a strong community. They credited much of their success to their well-rounded team—the voyagers represented a wide range of skills and had trained extensively. And like some of the hren I’d met, they had come to colonize a new world, albeit a different one.
When we took breaks Pickles always begged Ankosh to shapeshift for her, and he very patiently complied. I plied her for more information about the town and its people. It was hard to get much, as she would shoot off on a tangent and wind up asking me about Earth and the Solar System.
She asked how I’d come to Wayworld. I sat in silence a long time. For months I had barely spared a thought to how I’d come here; I was too busy surviving and exploring to dwell on the past. It seemed a very, very long time ago. I began the story.
Pickles’ eyes grew even wider than I’d ever seen them as I relayed my foolish foray into space to rescue the damsel in imaginary distress (“That is so romantic!” she said). She clasped her hands in front of her as I told of my exploits in the early days at Augie Field. She smiled in wonder as I told her of my friendship with the tupa (“They sound so cute!”).
I stopped abruptly when I was about to tell her about Prasun D’Silva. He had quite specifically told me not to tell the Jamestown crew about his presence if I ever found them. I stumbled and stuttered. In the account she heard, he was just “the Hermit”. If she noticed my hesitation, she didn’t mention it.
While I rode on Ankosh I altered a pair of shorts into a pair of baggy britches for Pickles, so she wouldn’t have to go bare-legged. I gave them to her the second day of our trip. She thanked me profusely before trying them on. They fit poorly, but were serviceable.
“You made these?” she said, looking down at them. I nodded. “No offense,” she said with a mischievous smile, “but I sew way better than you do.”
“So what’s your last name?” she asked that evening at dinner.
“Diggory is my last name,” I answered.
“Your name is Diggory Diggory?” she said, looking confused.
“No,” I said. “Anton Diggory. But no one calls me Anton. Everyone calls me Diggory. That, or Diggs.”
She laughed. “I like that a lot better than ‘Anton’. Can I call you ‘Diggs’?”
“Well, that is what my friends call me,” I said.
We arrived at the village where we had first encountered Pickles. From there she pointed at a small mountain, south by southeast.
“Home is just past that mountain,” she said. “At least, I’m pretty sure that’s the one.”
Pickles did her best to guide us backwards along the route that the kralsnar raiders had taken. Twice times this brought us to the charred ruins of small settlements. The girl would tear up each time, remembering the carnage she’d witnessed.
I slept poorly, anxious to be reunited at last with my pakren. I daydreamed about how they would look and how they lived. But a nagging thought persisted at the back of my head: what would I do there?
In the communities where I’d lived since coming to Wayworld, my primary contributions were my human hands, which combined strength and finesse in a way few other hren could. But among humans, all with human hands, I’d have no niche, no specialty. I knew I wouldn’t be turned away (I had rescued one of their children, after all) but surely I was destined to still eek out a living, as I had for the last year-and-a-half. I had grown accustomed to the life, but somehow the thought of living that way among my own race troubled me on some level.
After about half a week, we came across a partially intact village, peopled by brown-skinned bipeds with huge pale eyes and long snouts. These, Pickles informed us, were the glifi. They walked in a stooped posture that, combined with their blank-looking eyes, gave them a morose affect.
Pickles ran to one and conversed in a mix of English words and many others I did not recognize. She beckoned us over and made introductions. Her people traded with this village. The glifi insisted we stay the night. They tended my wounds and hosted a small feast for us, feeding us well and singing afterwards in deep, soulful voices. The next morning they sent two of their members armed with bows and axes to escort us to the human settlement.
The inhabitants of the area shared a trade language, which I dove into learning, insisting that Pickles guide me in conversation with our guards as best she could. Their doleful expressions turned out to be very deceptive. They laughed easily (though the noise sounded like a cat gagging) and, according to what Pickles told me, they had an optimistic outlook and a willingness to tackle whatever task was set before them. Like Pickles and myself, they were fascinated by our shape-shifting friend.
Even better, the glifi were able to go several days without sleeping, so they were perfectly willing to stand watch each night, allowing the girl and I to get much-needed rest. One of the guards scooped her up and let her ride piggy-back, allowing me to enjoy my ride on Ankosh for a longer stint. I was recovering slowly but surely. My leg wound troubled me the most. Standing or walking was painful. I used my spear as a staff when I had to walk, being careful not to tear open the wound. The other injuries were less worrisome.
In another week’s time, we skirted the mountain that Pickles indicated. As we peaked the foothills, a lush, teal valley spread out before us, dotted with cottages and cabins. Cultivated fields surrounded the homes, and a narrow stream ran along one side of the valley.
“We’re home, Diggs!” she cried out. “We’re home!” she threw her skinny arms around me in a brief but fierce hug, then dashed away toward the village crying out, “Papa! Mummy!” over and over. Figures appeared from out of the houses, or rose from the work in the fields, all turning to look at the source of the noise. Voices called out.
“Pickles!?” they cried. “Pickles!”
Soon people were running from every corner of the valley. Human people. My heart raced. My concerns over my future livelihood surfaced briefly but I forced them back down. Now was not the time. Now was a homecoming for the girl. The question of my own
future here could wait. The glifi, Ankosh, and I took a more leisurely pace to the village, I being unable to run and the others having no reason to.
A man and woman raced across a field, shouting louder than anyone else. Surely her parents. Soon the girl was caught up in a fierce hug by the two, and I could hear the mix of laughter and tears all the way across the distance that still separated us. I slowed as I approached, not wanting to interrupt anyone’s reunion.
The people of the village seemed to represent every race of human. I stared in awe at them. They were all beautiful. I knew on some level that I wouldn’t have thought so a few years ago, but after so long among alien faces, the humans forms were formed in perfect proportions and graced with faces of indescribable beauty. The men nearly all wore beards and looked strong and manly. The women were all shapely and attractive. Everyone glowed with good health. I knew the effect would fade, but I didn’t care. I just basked in the glory of it all as I slowly approached.
A few figures broke off from the crowd that gathered around the family, noticing me and my companions for the first time, surprise and amazement evident in their faces.
“You—you’re human!” one exclaimed. Another called out, “From Earth!?” Soon I was surrounded by welcoming faces and outstretched hands. “You came here with Pickles?” “You brought her back!” Then I heard the girl’s voice cut above the others.
“Mummy, Papa, these are the ones that rescued me,” said Pickles, leading a handsome couple over to me. All three faces smiled broadly, though they were red-eyed and tear-streaked. Mother and father fell on me, embracing me firmly and kissing my cheeks. “Thank you, thank you,” they each cried over and over. “You brought our baby back home.” They embraced Ankosh, who did not know how to respond.
A tall, dark-skinned man, probably in his fifties, came up and spoke in a smooth, deep voice. “Welcome to Perdita, my friend,” he said with a wide smile.
Chapter 17: The Homecoming
Though many wanted to show me the whole village, the Patels insisted I first come to their home. Ankosh and I went, accompanied by the glifi, who agreed to wait till the next day to return to their village. Jay and Nandini cuddled with their daughter as I recounted discovering and rescuing her and our journey to the village.
Diggory's World (Wayworld Book 1) Page 28