The women added their voices like the songs of marsh birds at dawn. This is the ai, the “reed.” Whether one voice or many, the ai soared high above the halah while simultaneously dancing in and out of the male harmony and weaved both parts into a whole. The ai-halah, “the reed and the wood,” was as much a foundation of Lo life as fishing. When the ai-halah floated upon the air it was said even the gods wept.
The Chronicle of Fu Xi
***
Ba-lok and Kus-ge’s passionate grunts and moans drifted across the lagoon as they coupled in the soft sand.
Ba-lok and Kus-ge emerged from the tall grass, away from the sleeping forms of their people huddled around smoking fires in the morning mist. Most of the delegations slept in the shore camp. They beached their boats and rafts on sandbars and sandy enclaves among the reeds.
Ba-lok and Kus-ge slipped into the still water and washed away the sand and sex from their bodies. She splashed water across his back where fingernails had dug bloody marks into his flesh.
He surveyed the pale image of Aizarg’s arun-ki across the water. The fog surrounded it like a funeral blanket. He couldn’t tell where the mist ended and the water began.
“It looks like our home,” he whispered to no one but himself. His mind still dwelt on the events of the council. Kus-ge embraced him from behind.
“It should have been you,” she whispered in his ear. “Your grandmother betrayed us.”
“Hush, woman,” he said without conviction.
“It’s the truth,” she pressed her body against his. “Atamoda is under her control and would have gladly chosen whomever the old witch instructed.”
“I am his second. It is a great honor,” he rebuked her without spirit.
“Yes,” she rubbed his chest from behind and pressed her body harder against his. “And the second becomes the Uros should something unfortunate befall the first,” she whispered.
Ba-lok said nothing.
It’s too quiet. Neither crickets nor frogs sang in the marsh. Ba-lok shuddered at the thought of Aizarg and Levidi’s tale of the Valley of the Beasts.
***
A lone figure stood among the sleeping forms in the shore camp and watched the embracing figures. Setenay’s eyes narrowed, thinking of the plots Kus-ge might be hatching against her.
Kus-ge hailed from the Lost Arun-ki, the farthest Lo settlement to the east. Their marriage was arranged by Ba-lok’s father over her objections. Shortly after Ba-lok returned with his new bride, her people mysteriously vanished, each hut burnt to the water line. No one knew why, but Setenay had her suspicions.
Kus-ge’s people, the Gar Clan, spent too much time on land cavorting with the g’an dwellers. They became more of the earth than the water. It was also said they dabbled in mysterious Aryan magical arts. She suspected Kus-ge still prayed to the dark deities when she frequently stole away to the marshes at twilight.
Kus-ge possessed a musky beauty, with a body sweet as honey and almond eyes powerful enough to capture any man. She controlled Ba-lok from their first meeting.
She’s poison brought among our people, Setenay thought as she watched Kus-ge embrace her grandson. No good will come from her.
Setenay dreaded the thought of Kus-ge becoming patesi-le. She knew her protests would only serve to drive Ba-lok into Kus-ge’s arms.
“I am too old to counter the schemes of a ruthless witch,” she muttered and turned to gather her things for the journey.
Setenay thought about the events of last night. Once the Council of Boats became a Council of War, decisions came in rapid succession. A scouting party, led by the Uros, would penetrate deep into the g’an seeking the Hur-po and subsequently the Narim.
They all agreed the party must be small enough not to raise alarm among the steppe dwellers, but only be composed of the strongest men, as not to invite attack. Several sco-lo-ti wanted to delay the expedition until they could fetch their strongest men, but Setenay vehemently disagreed.
“Time is short,” she warned. “This I know, though I cannot say how. Our time is measured in days, not weeks.”
Seven were chosen for the quest.
The party would assemble shortly after dawn at the shore camp. From there they would sail a day east to Ba-lok’s arun-ki, then strike out over land along the trading paths and away from the marshes.
Okta, leader of the Carp Clan, represented his people. Slightly older than Aizarg, he had a reputation for even temperament and intelligence. He wouldn’t allow any of his clan to accompany the quest. “I swore our peoples’ spears, therefore I will endure the profanity of walking on solid ground,” he told his delegation.
Ghalen, the handsome younger brother of Masok, represented the Turtle Clan. The tallest and strongest man present at the Council, no better spear arm was known among the Lo.
Setenay insisted she would accompany them as the Isp. Every Uros required a powerful patesi-le, or Isp. The War Council selected the Uros, but the role of Isp fell to the oldest and wisest patesi-le. If anyone had doubts Setenay could survive the journey, they held their tongue. She addressed their unspoken concerns.
“If the g’an is where I am to die, so be it! I possess more knowledge of Narim lore than anyone in the Lo nation. I also know the Scythians. Not to take me is foolishness.”
Aizarg smiled as he put his arm around her. “If I have to carry you there and back, I will.” She knew he had deep concerns about her ability to weather the trek, but she convinced him her wisdom and knowledge would prove advantageous.
Her grandson Ba-lok would serve as Aizarg’s second, but Aizarg insisted Levidi be included.
***
Alaya lay naked on top of the furs, watching Levidi dart around the hut like a boy preparing for his first fishing trip. She carefully prepared his things late last night — bundles of dried fish, skins and his heavy garments. Still, he checked and rechecked everything.
He’s forgotten I’m even here. His mind is somewhere else, maybe at the edge of the world.
Barely a woman, but with well-honed feminine instincts, Alaya understood her man. She felt his fear. The experience in the Valley of the Beasts shook him, though he wouldn’t admit it. His friendship for Aizarg and honor overpowered any fears he harbored. No matter how badly she wanted him to stay, he’d be impossible to live with if he didn’t go.
Levidi made repeated trips in and out of the hut, taking his things to the boat. When he returned, Alaya stood, clothed in her tunic.
“My spears are lashed and the bundles are loaded. I must go to the shore camp now,” he said.
“You need to eat.” She held out his breakfast, dried fish mixed with wild rice wrapped in a broad leaf.
“I’m not hungry, but I’ll take it with me,” he said.
“So be it, eat it later.” She handed him the wrap.
Levidi absently kissed her cheek and turned to go. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back. She tried not to get angry. She wanted her husband’s undivided attention.
“Kiss me!” she said. A broad, boyish grin and twinkling eyes replaced the brooding dark man who shared her hut and mat for the past two days.
There’s my Levidi. Her heart almost broke as she fought back the tears.
“Do not be afraid, my little wren,” he said as he pulled her close. “I’ll be back soon enough, and with me will come the gods’ favor.” He touched her belly. “Everything will be as it was and as it should be.”
They shared a long, deep kiss and then he slipped away. She didn’t follow him out onto the platform.
Alaya knelt down and touched her belly where his hand caressed her. She’d been his bride for two years, but Atamoda’s herbal tonics and Levidi’s abundant libido were not enough to give them a child. Her mind told her if the gods were truly bent on destroying the Lo, maybe her barren womb was a blessing.
Her heart told her otherwise. She feared not having a child to remember him by, of their home growing cold as his memory died.
Alaya curled up on t
he cold mat and sobbed. She didn’t want solitude; she wanted her husband.
As Levidi’s boat slipped toward shore, Aizarg’s fully loaded boat remained tied to his dock.
***
Aizarg woke after only a few hours of sleep to the smell of cooking food. Kol-ok nestled against his side and Bat-or lay sprawled across his chest. Careful not to wake them, he caressed each boy’s cheek and softly ran his fingers through their hair. He heard Atamoda cooking over the brazier.
He wanted this moment to last forever. In the morning stillness, Aizarg said a prayer.
Psatina, if you’ve found my thoughts and actions in any way pleasing and deserving reward, then I ask only one thing. Let the afterlife be just like this moment, for this is all a man could hope for.
He glanced over at the curtain at the door. The sky lightened as daybreak, and his fate, approached. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, then gently moved Bat-or off his chest and placed him on the mat. Bat-or snuggled up next to his big brother. Aizarg covered both of them with a fur.
“Come, husband, sit next to me and eat.” They both sat cross-legged near the fire in silence. He slowly chewed a simple meal of wild grain porridge and berries, his favorite.
Atamoda hadn’t slept last night. She spent the early morning hours after the council preparing his gear and supplies for the journey and placing them in his boat. His boar spear, the new symbol of his power as Uros, leaned against the wall.
“Thank you, wife,” he said as he finished his meal.
“Your heavy garments are over there, ready for you to wear.”
He stood and changed into his winter clothes. Like the rest of the men in the expedition, he wore his heavy clothes, made to keep the wind off his skin when fishing the rough winter sea. The garments would be too warm for the early fall, but made them look more like g’an dwellers, at least from a distance.
“Wife, did you pack the extra rations of fish?”
“Yes, husband.”
“Don’t let the boys swim under the hut. I haven’t cleared out the brush pile which drifted in from the last wind storm.”
“Yes, husband.”
“Kol-ok can use the raft by himself.” Aizarg shook his head, unsure if it was a wise decision. “He’s old enough, I suppose. He can take the refuse and dump it beyond the arun-ki, but he is not allowed to take it to the shore, and he is absolutely not allowed to let Bat-or ride with him.”
He looked around, desperately trying to make sure he remembered everything.
She moved closer.
“It’s fall, the storms will be coming soon. I should get back before the worst of the season, but if I don’t, ensure the raft is tied securely every night...”
“Shush.” She pressed her finger against his lips and ran her hand through his thick red hair. “It’s all right, husband. You may be Uros, but this is still my hut. I will manage and Kol-ok is big enough to help me. It will be good for him. You need not worry, there are still plenty of men left here to help me if something goes wrong...and it won’t.”
He relaxed and smiled.
“I love you, wife.”
“I love you, husband.”
They held each other, neither wanting to let go. Finally, she gently pushed him away.
“Do not wake the children,” she said. “They won’t understand. I will tell them goodbye for you.”
Aizarg grunted softly in agreement. Atamoda then placed something in his hand.
“Take this.” It was her li-ge.
“No! You are the patesi-li, this is yours,” he protested.
“You must be one and at peace, no matter how far apart we are. Take this and your spirit will be whole until we are together again.”
“What about you?” he asked.
“I have your children. They carry a piece of your spirit. Be at peace. Go and save your people.”
They embraced and kissed one more time, and then he turned to go.
There stood Kol-ok, trying to keep Aizarg’s heavy spear from tipping over.
“I’m ready, father. Let me come with you!”
Aizarg knelt next to his oldest boy.
“Can you lift it?”
Kol-ok tried to heft the spear with both hands, but it fell. Aizarg caught it effortlessly with one hand before it slammed into the brazier.
“If you can’t lift the spear, you can’t come with me.”
Kol-ok looked down, disappointed. “Are you going hunting?”
“Yes, I guess so. I’ll be back in a few days.”
Large tears welled at the edges of Kol-ok’s eyes. “Gun-ar says all the fish are gone. Gun-ar says bad things are going to happen. Are they, Daddy?”
Gun-ar is like her mother. Aizarg tried not to get angry. She talks too much about things she doesn’t understand.
Aizarg held his son’s shoulders.
He’s growing so much every day.
“The fish will come back and so will I. Watch over your mother and brother while I’m gone.”
Kol-ok didn’t look up as tears slid down his cheeks. “I don’t want you to go,” he whispered. The desperation in Kol-ok’s eyes tore into Aizarg’s soul.
He pulled Kol-ok close and picked him up. Aizarg had prepared for this moment all night, summoning all his strength and composure. Now, however, he found himself on the edge of tears. Atamoda moved to embrace them when they heard a scream outside.
Aizarg and Atamoda looked at each other and instantly knew where the scream came from.
“Ood-i’s hut,” they said together.
***
Ood-i absolutely refused to be omitted from the party. At the War Council he insisted he held the key to the expedition’s success, though he wouldn’t elaborate why.
“T-trust me, Uros,” he said.
Aizarg adamantly refused his inclusion until Setenay mysteriously intervened and, without explanation, insisted Ood-i come along.
For the first time in many months, Ood-i’s eyes were clear and his step purposeful. The sun just crested the eastern water, a dull orange ball hanging in the milky fog, when he stooped from under the skins covering his hut’s entrance. His boat waited, boar spear tied to its side.
He hefted the heavy bag of dried fish over his wide shoulders as he gently shrugged off his wife’s grasping hands.
“You’re not taking it!” Ula screamed, trying to drag Ood-i back into the hut. “That’s our food! We’ll starve!” Ula cried hysterically, rage made more dramatic by her unkept hair.
“I t-told you before, each man must b-b-bring enough to b-barter with! There is enough left for you and Su-gár f-f-for several w-weeks. Now get back into the hut and l-leave me be!” Ood-i stuttered.
“Don’t lie to me! You’re taking our food to those whores in the trading camps. You’d rather be with them than us, dog!”
“I said get b-back into the hut, woman!” He pushed her back more forcibly and Ula fell to her knees.
“I hate you! I HATE YOU!” she screamed.
People watched the drama unfold from platforms and docks like unwelcome spirits in the morning mist. Ood-i looked around in shame at the staring faces across the water. He saw Aizarg paddling toward his hut with Atamoda riding in the front.
Su-gár knelt next to her mother and held her. Ula put her head in her daughter’s lap and cried. Su-gár gave her father an icy stare. “Please go, Father. I will take care of her.”
He knew Su-gár blamed him for everything.
Ood-i looked back at Aizarg and Atamoda. In another minute, they would be at his dock.
“Your mmother will not listen to me, but maybe you will, daughter. I will say this quickly, for I don’t wish Aizarg and Atamoda to hear m-my words. I see the same hatred in your eyes as y-your mother’s. I don’t know when it happened, b-but I’ve made one t-too many bad choices and now I am a lost man. I have spent time among the a’g-g-...” he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force out the words, “...A-g’an. I’ve drank their wine and b-been with their wa-women.”
Su-gár winced and turned away.
“I’ve b-brought shame to you and your mother. The old p-patesi-le said last night the world may be coming t-to an end. I think your mother’s world ended a-a long t-time ago. I know you only stayed to comfort her. You both deserved better.
“If...” he whispered and ran his hands though his long, graying hair. “If in some way I c-can redeem myself, perhaps you will not think so harshly of your foolish old father.”
Tears streamed down Su-gár’s hot cheeks.
Aizarg docked and Atamoda hopped off the boat and made her way to the ladder. Atamoda didn’t look at Ood-i as she knelt down next to Su-gár and Ula.
Aizarg called up to Ood-i, “Are you ready?”
Ood-i climbed down the ladder, gear slung over his shoulder. Without another word, he and Aizarg set off in their boats toward the shore camp.
***
As the fog dispersed and the sun rose higher over the eastern horizon, the party departed. Each man poled his own boat alone except for Ba-lok and Aizarg. Kus-ge rode with Ba-lok, and Setenay sat in the front of Aizarg’s boat. Boats from Ba-lok’s delegation surrounded the party and would accompany them until they reached their home.
The delegations from the other arun-ki stood on the shore. Later that morning they would depart for their homes, bearing news of the War Council.
Women gathering driftwood and wild grain stopped and waved as they passed. Children ran down the bank until the thick reeds slowed their passage. All of them knew the fate of their people rested with the seven.
Xva stood apart among the reeds, watching the party drift past. Aizarg met his gaze and nodded. He pleaded to go along, but Aizarg refused. Xva was too young and inexperienced. If Aizarg had a choice, Ba-lok would stay behind, too. This journey required experience and wisdom.
A deep undulating male voice carried across the water from the shore camp, quickly followed by another and another.
The voices sounded different to Aizarg, though he couldn’t place why. Setenay turned and spoke to him.
Black Sea Gods: Chronicles of Fu Xi Page 5