Journey to Water's Heart

by Lea Ben Shlomo

  “Eat and rest,” the woman said. “Even though you’re foreigners, I’m raising my children to help people, no matter where they’re from. I’m happy to help you, if only slightly. Just don’t reward evil for good.”

  “You’ve helped us greatly. I’m grateful. Your kindness has touched my heart,” Tanti said. “I need a good pair of shoes and a horse. I’ll pay for them. After that, we’ll be on our way, and we’ll bother you no longer.”

  The women whispered among themselves. They liked Tanti’s pleasant ways. Yoven received hostile and suspicious gazes. The color of his clothes didn’t matter; he couldn’t hide his blue eyes.

  “You’ll get whatever you need,” the proprietress said. “You can sleep in the barn. We’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”

  Tanti thanked her and put some gold coins in her hand. He knew they were worth much more than what he’d asked for. They’d have a lot of money left. He was glad he could pay them back.

  Yoven fell on the bed of straw covered with a clean white sheet. “How did you do that, sir?” he asked. “You just went to them and convinced them to help us. I don’t know if you’re a magician or a madman. In the end, we received everything we need and more. That is, if those women don’t have a change of heart and go to the village to tell them about the two foreigners from Izmeran, who have bags of gold coins. Open the barn door so we can see when someone is coming.”

  Tanti did what he suggested. He knew that if there was trouble, a weary, injured Lizard was better than anyone else.

  “My mother used to say, ‘A kind word will break a stone.’” Yoven continued mumbling, and Tanti had difficulty understanding him. “The pump,” Yoven said. “They drew water in buckets. Did you see that delicate White girl, how she drew the water with her slender arms? If there were a pump there.”

  “I did see a pump next to the well,” Tanti said. “It was old and out of repair. So they draw water manually. And you,” he said, “should go to sleep.”

  “No, sir. You sleep, and I’ll keep guard. We’re in enemy territory,” Yoven said and fell into a deep slumber on the soft bed.

  They rested there for another two days before they continued on their way, riding two horses, equipped with food and blankets. Tanti wore white leather shoes that were comfortable and strong.

  Next to the well, the family stood and waved. In the pen, two white goats, recently bought, bleated. In addition, ten white chicks cavorted around the yard, to the children’s joy. The trough was full of water drawn from the well with the help of the pump that Yoven’s diligent hands had repaired.

  Yoven whistled as he rode, his heart light. Without knowing the song, Tanti knew he was whistling off key.

  “Sir,” Yoven said. “Did you see how easy it is to draw water now that the pump is repaired?”

  “I saw, Yoven. You performed miracles with that dying pump. I’m sure that even in its heyday that pump didn’t work as efficiently as it does now.”

  Yoven smiled. “Sir,” he said. “How do you know what’s the right and wrong thing to do?”

  “You don’t always know.”

  “So what do you do in order to decide?”

  “I ask myself.”

  “I’ve learned something important from you, sir.”

  “What’s that?”

  “To look at things differently than I’m used to.”

  “I’ve learned from you as well, Yoven. When all your friends were cruel to me, and you helped me and set me free from my hardships, I learned you can always choose to do the right thing and not what’s expected of you.”

  “I’m glad I helped you. And I’m glad I fixed that pump. I already know the answer to my question.” And he resumed his shrill whistling.

  ***

  All night, the monsters walked in the valley. On both sides, the horses and steerers made sure they didn’t stray off course. The missive from Galrock finally arrived. “Go on your way.”

  And they did. King Mabul Otonto led the way, holding the reins, wearing armor of steel and silver. With him rode the steerer and the archers. After them, the young Hayatulaum walked in threes with teams of three or four riding on each of them.

  Progress was slow. They had to navigate in the dark in unfamiliar territory. Mabul Otonto wanted the element of surprise to be complete. He didn’t even tell Galrock of the route he had taken. The scouts rode ahead and then returned to direct the navigators along the planned route, making their way slowly and carefully. They didn’t dare light a fire for fear one of the Hayatulaum would go berserk upon seeing even the smallest flame. The air was tense and enthusiastic. The Swamp Dwellers felt powerful and elated. The moon paled. The stars were extinguished one by one. They could see the margins of the Valley of the Edges, where the Blues had set up camp after advancing uninterrupted when the Whites retreated. The road curved up and climbed the hill. From here, they could see the tops of the tents. Had the Blues been more alert, they would’ve noticed the shadows of death approaching them.

  The timing was perfect. They arrived at the Valley of the Edges just before the first light. The soldiers slept deeply during these early morning hours. Exhausted from their shifts, the guards let go of their tension. Even if they woke up in time, it wouldn’t change the impressive entrance of the ancient, huge monsters, driven by the brave Bonook, the only men in the world who could overcome the strength of those predators and their poisonous tails. The Whites weren’t seen in the area. They were terrified of the Hayatulaum. Those ordered to watch the course of the battle watched from a safe distance.

  The Swamp Dwellers burst into the camp.

  Silence greeted them instead of panicked fleeing. There were no screams of terror. The Blue camp was empty.

  The Swamp Dwellers galloped along the valley, trampling empty tents and aimlessly running this way and that. Finally, the king raised his hand, signaling that they stop. He tried to think of his next step. Soothing the beasts was difficult, as they were inflamed by the run, but in the end, the riders stopped and turned to look at him.

  “Damn Blues! Stinking squids!” Mabul Otonto screamed. “They tricked us. They knew we were coming. Someone, a cowardly, lowlife traitor, warned them.”

  He saw his people waiting for his orders and tried to control his rage. His head hurt as though it would explode. They’d continue, he thought to himself. They’d cross the border and wreak vengeance upon Nautilin.

  The sun appeared from behind the hill, shining blindingly. Next to it appeared more suns, glittering against the dawning light. One by one, flames appeared, until it permeated the rage-filled mind of the king of the swamp, standing proudly on the huge, puffing beast, that these were bonfires. After a moment, the entire valley was surrounded by fire. In no time at all, the Valley of the Edges became a death trap to all those in it. The Hayatulaum panicked and started galloping and running, bucking off their riders and trampling them beneath their heavy feet. The scouts and escorts ran here and there aimlessly, trampled and stung by the sharp tails.

  A few young Hayatulaum managed to escape the fire, galloping as fast as they could and bucking off their riders.

  On the western range, the Blue king and his people stood, watching the events below. No one cheered when confronted with the horrific sights of people and beasts burning to death, trampled, stung by poisonous tails, and writhing in agony. Every one of the spectators had the same thought—it could’ve been us down there right now.

  ***

  No one knew where things were headed. The armies remained in place, waiting for an order. Stories of heroism and victory flew all over the place. “The Demons”—the Forest Dwellers and the Lizards—gained admiration for their triumphs as they fought beside the Blues, as did Zoded for his part in the battles, especially the last one, with the Hayatulaum. Arisan’s part remained a secret, at her request.

  The king of the Swamp, who managed to escap
e, collected the remaining beasts in an enclosure and was ready to use them again, despite the crushing defeat in the Valley of the Edges. His secret weapon was revealed. He was now a force to be reckoned with. He meant to use this to his advantage.

  Up on the hill, in the Blue camp, Balanter studied the king’s somber expression. The generals stood alert and waiting, among them the commander of the volunteers, Zoded, holding the hand of a trembling swamp girl. Thanks to her, they were all there, on that hill, and not below, in the raging inferno.

  “Your Majesty.” Balanter tried to cheer up his king. “We defeated them. Victory is ours.”

  The king looked at the expectant crowd. The war had gone too far. Its consequences still hadn’t been fully revealed. Right now, they were confronting the fact that they’d all been saved from a cruel fate and had tricked a merciless enemy. He smiled slightly and raised his fist.

  Jubilant cries rose from the crowd and spread back to the camp behind them.

  Once again, he raised his hand, this time to quiet the crowd and speak.

  “My dear countrymen!” the king said. “We won this time because of bravery, loyalty, and love for our country. We didn’t choose this war; we didn’t want it. When we found ourselves threatened and attacked, we discovered within ourselves a strength we didn’t know we had. Much will be said about the heroism of Nautilin. Despite our victory, our joy isn’t complete. The war won’t end if there isn’t peace between the Whites and the Blues. Galrock will fight until his last soldier, and that will exact a heavy price from our own soldiers. The Swamp Dwellers, who revealed their power, will return with the monsters. All they need is a few to wreak havoc and destruction. I believe this war won’t end until the White queen and I sign a treaty.

  “Remain prepared. Our work is not done. We will spread along the border and wait. Azium Nasusion will give the commanders their new orders. Hurray to the soldiers. Hurray to all those who took part. Hurray to Nautilin.”

  “Hurray! Hurray to King Dark Blue!” People called from every direction.

  The king retired to his tent with mixed feelings. He felt elated, yet extremely anxious. He sat down to eat his first meal in twenty-four hours. Balanter and Azium Nasusion joined him. The rest of the generals went to their troops to celebrate.

  “Rejoice in this victory,” Azium Nasusion said. “The honor and fame that we attained today will be told from generation to generation.”

  The king nodded and clinked his glass of wine with theirs, but he was far from happy. He sensed the hissing shadow of evil approaching.

  He yearned with all his heart to end this war, disband the army, and return to the palace, where his queen was approaching the end of her pregnancy. Perhaps his generals were right and he was worrying pointlessly.

  His eyes drooped. Weariness overwhelmed him, and he fell asleep. His servants laid pillows beneath his head and lifted his feet, wishing to let him rest in peace without waking him.

  At dawn, the king woke up to the sound of shouting. The tent entrance was wide open, and voices pierced his sleep-fogged mind. “Your Majesty, a messenger arrived with a message.”

  He knew the message wouldn’t be a happy one.

  The border had been stormed at Hey Hill. White forces had swarmed unhindered into Nautilin. They had entered the fishing village and slaughtered anyone in their way.

  “What?”

  The messenger fell to his knees weeping. “They didn’t spare the women and children. They pillaged and burned the houses. They didn’t stop until the entire village went up in flames. They continued to the nearby villages. The villagers fled inland. Now the Whites are encamping along the lake and are securing their outpost.”

  The king alerted his generals and updated them.

  “Leave at once,” he said hoarsely.

  The camp emptied quickly.

  “Smug with victory, we abandoned the western border,” he said to Balanter, who stood by his side. “The Whites took advantage of that.”

  The Blue army galloped forward. With evening, the first cavalrymen arrived. They managed to stop the White forces before they could reach any more villages. Until then, Galrock had focused on the Valley of the Edges, where the Blues had an advantage since the battles were concentrated in one place. When the Swamp Dwellers left with the Hayatulaum, he decided to take advantage of the distraction and sent his forces to the western border, the place easiest to infiltrate. Finally, he managed to cross the border and capture Nautilin territories. The way to conquer the entire country was open before him.

  King Dark Blue knew he had to put an end to this war, no matter what. He discussed the matter with his generals. Tensions were high. Most of the generals declared they could survive the Whites’ attacks. They came up with suggestions on how to stop them. The king remained steadfast. The war had to end and immediately. Even if the price was losing territories and villages. He realized that a direct appeal to the war-thirsty Galrock wouldn’t receive a response. They had to sidestep him and reach Queen Laorin.

  The rest of that night, in the light of an oil lamp, the king and Balanter sat and formulated a letter. This time Tiponet wasn’t there to help them. The letter was written and signed. Once again, the king needed the skills of the commander of the Lizards, in order to evade Galrock and bring the letter directly to the White queen.

  On the outskirts of the restless camp, Iralu stood by Zoded. He was saying his goodbyes to Arisan, who would return to the village to hide there. The village was still safe and far enough from the border.

  “We should’ve won. We, not them,” Arisan said with tears on her cheeks. Iralu hugged her and couldn’t find the words to comfort her.

  “That’s right.” Zoded addressed his mother. “We did everything we could. We were braver and more daring and cunning. People volunteered and dedicated themselves to save Nautilin, and it was all for nothing.”

  “Not for nothing,” Iralu said. “Our people proved their bravery and how much they love their country. They proved that they could come together when there was trouble. The Blues today are a force to be reckoned with. Can you imagine if we hadn’t recruited volunteers? How things would’ve looked like? We stopped the Whites at the northern border, and here, despite the heavy losses, the battle was also stopped. We didn’t fight for nothing, my son. Not only victory in a battle is victory. Our country won in spirit. Even if the Whites captured territories in Nautilin, how long will they continue to capture territories here? The strength we’ve discovered in ourselves won’t allow us surrender. We’ll make their lives hell until they leave, and they won’t dare return again.”

  “It’s not right! We should’ve won, not them!” Arisan protested over and over again. “They shouldn’t have killed all those people. And the children.”

  “Don’t be sad, child,” Iralu said. “You’re a hero. Thanks to you, even more bloodshed was prevented.”

  “Thanks to me?”

  “Of course,” Zoded said. He stroked Arisan’s face. “You went to warn the king and queen.”

  “Thanks to me.” Arisan whispered to herself. “Yes, Mabul Otonto failed. And that’s good.”

  “That’s good,” Iralu said.

  They looked at the king and his advisors, sitting at the entrance of the big tent, laboring over the letter they were writing.

  “We’re a free people,” Zoded said. “And we’ll remain free.”

  “We’ll remain free,” his mother said.

  ***

  Queen Laorin woke up in a panic. Her heart thundered. She had a feeling she wasn’t alone in the room. The curtain fluttered in the wind. The window her maid had closed before the queen went to sleep was now open. A dark figure slithered among the shadows of the room. Laorin sat up and wanted to scream. A voice spoke to her quietly.

  “I won’t hurt you, Your Majesty. I’m leaving immediately. I just wanted to make sure this letter
reached your hands.”

  “Guards!” Laorin cried in terror. Four armed guards quickly barged in and surrounded her. One of them held a torch, which lit the room. She pointed to where she had seen the figure. No one was there. The curtains fluttered, sucked out by the wind.

  “There was…” she started to say, but fell silent when she saw a rolled letter on the table.

  The confused guards looked at her silently.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I had a bad dream.” Her heart was still hammering in fear. She restrained herself from sharing her concern with her guards. After the conversation with her sister, in which she had warned her of her own people, she decided to keep silent. The guard with the torch lit several lanterns in the room.

  “The window that opened must’ve woken you up,” one of the guards said and went to close it.

  “I intend to reprimand my maid for not closing it properly,” Laorin said. “And you may return to your stations. Call my sister and Nikon. I must discuss… Security measures with them. Of course, I’ll mention your quick response.”

  When the guards left, she climbed out of bed and took the letter. She brought it closer to the candle and studied the seal. Without doubt, it was the seal of the Blue crown.

  Halior entered and hurried to her sister. “Did you call me? The guards said you had a bad dream.”

  “I didn’t,” Laorin said. “Someone was here and brought this letter. I want to confirm the seal is authentic.”

  Halior examined the seal. “It looks authentic and original. I’ll call Nikon to confirm it.”

  “I already sent for him.”

  “Well then, get dressed before he arrives.”

  The letter from the Blue king, unlike his previous letters, was full of mistakes, crooked and illegible, but its meaning was clear: The king announced his immediate surrender and was prepared to retreat from the Valley of the Edges to the borders of his country. His goal, he claimed, was to stop the continued bloodshed and the suffering caused to both sides.