Children of a New Earth

by Eliason, R. J.

  “In my world,” Amy said. “A woman who gets pregnant out of wedlock is looked down upon and no one wants her.”

  “So I remember. But here, she would be even more desirable, having proof of her fertility. Any family would be glad to have her.

  “And there is genetic diversity to consider,” he continued.

  Amy knew the phrase from livestock management. “You mean like breeding animals?”

  He nodded. “The same rules apply to humans. Too much inbreeding can lead to serious problems. With so few people left, and those all scattered about, it’s a valid concern. To protect ourselves, we must make an effort to mix the gene pool as much as possible.”

  “So you are saying that group marriage protects the gene pool?”

  “No, open relationships protect the gene pool. Being free to mix sexually with any travelers helps avoid inbreeding.”

  “I’ll bet the boys are enjoying that,” Amy sneered.

  “Rumor has it several of them have,” Michael replied. “We placed most of the boys with older families so that their hosts would be aware of how the ethics were in the old days. There have been no unwanted advances, as far as I know.”

  Amy did not want to think about what the boys were doing. “Anyway, what is group marriage about, if not genetic diversity?”

  “Much simpler matters really,” he replied. “As I said earlier, before the collapse we already had a number of such arrangements. Others adopted it later because of the chaos that ensued during the collapse. Struggles and grief have a way of building intimacy fast, but what do you do when you discover that your spouse survived after all? Leave the new one or the old? Many of the survivors were familiar with our example and decided to give it a try.

  “Also there are distinct advantages. Just look around. Life is hard these days. In subsistence farming, an extra hand or two is always helpful.”

  “But at the ranch we work together, and there is no group marriage.”

  “Yes, but how much conflict is there?”

  Amy thought about that. She compared in her mind the quiet discussions she had witnessed here with the unruly chaos of meetings back home.

  “Sex is not just about procreation. It is about bonding. It helps create a strong emotional bond. It doesn’t prevent conflict; in fact, it can create more. But it does provide some cushion, some way around conflict. Take the Dog Boys.”

  “Dog Boys?”

  “Yes, they are the tribe’s primary warriors. They are mostly sterile and mostly homosexuals, like the ancient Greeks. Because of their open sexuality, they are a tightknit group. In times of trouble, they have always fought well, in part because they are so protective of each other.”

  A gong sounded as they walked. “What was that?” Amy asked.

  “Quitting time at the workshop,” he replied. “Come on.”

  Chapter 9

  THE DOG BOYS

  They approached the workshop as the workers were starting to come out. Lorn and Lexa were among them.

  “Good day to you,” Lorn greeted them. “I hope everything went well at the council?”

  Michael explained the deal. Lorn nodded. “I had hoped as much. I hate to dash off,” he said, “but I need to catch the boys before they return to their host families. We are going to invite them up for a warriors circle with the Dog Boys. Are you interested, Amy?”

  “Warriors stuff,” Lexa scoffed. “We have better things to do.” Amy allowed herself to be pulled away despite a vague curiosity.

  Luke studied the circle with some interest. The horrible sinking feeling he had felt when Michael and Lorn revealed they knew the boys had “been a bit rowdy” at the village was finally leaving him. It was replaced by a mixture of curiosity and dread.

  At least the Tir-Na-Nog warriors were not, apparently, put off by the reports they had heard. They expected young warriors, out on their own for the first time, to behave that way. Indeed, they had traditions in place to assist. It was only natural to want to test yourself, the warriors believed, and they had found a safe way to do so: the warriors circle. At least that was the theory.

  As they had described the warriors circle and its rules, Luke grew calm, even relaxed. It sounded no different from the free sparring they did in their combat training course. It was nothing more than a few friendly matches so they could compare styles and abilities. Afterward, they would feast together, drink, and be friends.

  Now that they were about to begin, however, he realized just how different this combat training was from that of the ranch. Several of the Dog Boys gathered up large wooden and leather drums. They began beating them in a deep, booming rhythm. Everyone began to circle slowly. One man picked up a stringed instrument and began to play. He sang a deep, rhythmic song in a language Luke had never heard before.

  Lorn was “Maestro” for the evening’s game. He would decide who fought, and he would judge the matches.

  The boys were all huddled close to Luke. They were intimidated by this.

  “There are women,” Shawn muttered. “I thought it was warriors only.”

  “It is. They have women warriors,” Luke replied.

  “I won’t fight a girl,” Patrick declared. “It’s not right.”

  “Send in Mark,” Kurt piped up. “He’ll hit a girl.”

  Mark snarled savagely at Kurt, who ducked behind Daniel.

  “You will go in and fight whoever they put against you,” Luke told Patrick. “You are the best fighter we have. Make the ranch proud.”

  Pride forced Patrick into action. He stepped slowly out of the circle, like they had been instructed. He knelt at the edge of the bare space that was the ring.

  Several of the tribe members immediately followed suit, showing their willingness to take the challenge. Among them was a slender woman. She had her hair cut as short as Patrick’s. She wore what they had been told was the traditional Hakima: cotton pants and top held together with a very faded black belt. She was short and slender, but her face shone with an intensity that Luke had not seen since Isaiah Hall. Next to her right temple a spider was tattooed.

  “At the ranch, we don’t fight women,” Patrick called out.

  “Why? Are you scared of them?” someone asked.

  Patrick’s eyes shot around, searching for the speaker. Lorn gave Patrick a nod, and he took the center of the circle.

  “I’ll take whoever made that comment,” Patrick declared.

  “You’ll take who you’re given,” a voice answered.

  “You’ll get Spider,” Lorn said.

  The woman gave a quick bow and leaped into the ring.

  Several voices began chanting “Spider, Spider.”

  “For the ranch,” Mark shouted at Patrick.

  “For the ranch,” Shawn added.

  Patrick laughed. Luke knew what he was thinking; Luke was thinking it too. Why send this little woman up against Patrick? She had no chance. He was twice her size.

  Still laughing, Patrick took a ready stance. His fist shot out. She ducked easily. He was fast, almost too fast to see, but she was faster. He threw jab after jab. She bobbed and wove, always just out of reach.

  Finally, with a shout he leaped forward, bearing down on her. She fell before him. He pushed her down, overpowering her.

  Then, incredibly, as she fell on her back, her feet came up. Her legs twisted, and Patrick was caught. She wrapped her legs around his neck in a very unladylike chokehold. With a simple twist, Patrick was on his back, held helpless. There was a roar from the crowd. “Spider!” they cheered.

  So the night went. Other than the rules of contact, there were few similarities between this and the way the boys had been trained. The warriors of the Greenbowe tribe ducked, bobbed, wove, somersaulted, and cartwheeled fluidly around the circle, hitting, kicking, and throwing each other. It was fast and furious, but mostly devious. One moment, they were falling down defeated; the next, a foot snaked out and they swept their opponent down.

  After a while, Luke began to be
able to pick out several distinct styles. A few people predominately used throws that were very reminiscent of Luke’s Judo book. A larger number of others used a more flowing style of throws that Luke guessed from Ruth’s description to be Aikido. There were many other styles that Luke had no name for.

  The ranch’s training was done by Isaiah Hall based on US Special Forces training in hand-to-hand combat. Luke had always firmly believed it represented the best possible fighting style. His confidence was now shaken badly.

  One thing that Luke had always wondered about was becoming clear. The Judo book talked about the style as though it were a lifestyle or a life-long discipline. Luke had never quite understood that until now. Now, he was watching people who had devoted years to the perfection of their style. There were many black belts, indicating high-ranked and well-trained practitioners. A couple of the older warriors wore white belts, the beginner’s color, even though they were obviously very skilled. Luke remembered what the book had said about that and explained to Daniel and Kurt that these warriors were at the highest possible rank; they had gone full circle.

  The biggest surprise of the night was Kurt. Kurt and Luke had drilled in Judo throws for some time before the beginning of the mission. A complete failure at the harder style favored at the ranch, Kurt had quietly taken the lessons to heart. Also, he was less sure of himself and, therefore, more cautious. He did not fall for the more obvious tricks of the Greenbowes.

  He even managed to unseat his first opponent, throwing them over his shoulder with a triumphant cry. The Greenbowes cheered as loudly for him as they had for their own, and the tension among the boys dropped dramatically. For all the intensity, it was indeed a friendly game.

  The fighting went on well into the night. They each fought several times and often the Greenbowes fought amongst each other. These were the fun matches to watch. They pitted skilled warriors, people who knew each other’s style well, against each other. The results were impressive.

  Even Patrick appeared to relax and enjoy himself. He had spent nearly a half an hour scowling and glowing red after his first match. Then Spider took the field again. She took on six fighters in turn, many of them much larger. She was fast and clever. She used a combination of fluid throws, “Aikido,” Michael confirmed from Luke’s side. She also used tighter vicious holds and throws that Michael identified as Brazilian Jujitsu.

  “See, Patrick?” Mark said. “It’s no shame to have lost to that woman. She’s one tough bitch!”

  Luke startled at the statement, expecting a sudden flare of wrath from Spider. But she merely smiled at him. “Damn straight,” she told Mark. “Want a piece?”

  It was over in seconds, and to Luke’s surprise, Mark didn’t appear the least bit put out as he limped back out of the circle.

  Toward the end, Maestro Lorn took the center ring, gesturing to three separate people. “He always waits until the end,” Michael explained. “His Tai Chi is fabulous, but it is more impressive after you’ve seen the others fight.”

  Luke didn’t know what Tai Chi was, but he had to agree. If he hadn’t seen the men fight before, he wouldn’t have thought much of Lorn’s movements, which came off as light and easy. He didn’t appear to be doing much, but each of the three fighters went down. It was as though they had suddenly developed two left feet.

  All three attacked at once and were repulsed easily. While Lorn’s movements were effortless, his opponents were often thrown several feet. It was an impressive demonstration.

  “You have us at a great disadvantage,” Luke announced when asked how he had enjoyed the circle. “We surrender to your superior skill.” There was another cheer at this graceful admission.

  “Nonsense,” Lorn returned. “You stood against some of our most skilled warriors. Many have more years of training than you have years. It was an honorable match, and you acquitted yourselves well.” Another cheer went up followed by the popping of corks as mead bottles were opened.

  Chapter 10

  ROBIN'S NEST

  Amy had one moment to watch the other’s leave for the warriors circle before Lexa dragged her back to her family home. Returning to the nest, they found Rowan waiting for them. He wore tight leather breeches and a light blue tunic with long sleeves. With his long, blond hair pulled back in a tight braid, he looked quite handsome. Amy thought, I can see why Lexa fell for him first.

  “Hello, my dears,” he said kissing both Lexa and Daisy soundly on the lips. “And hello to you,” he added to Amy, kissing her hand. She blushed.

  “Such a gentlemen,” Daisy said a bit too loud, winking.

  “And why shouldn’t I be?” he replied, “With such a beautiful guest in our house?”

  “Don’t embarrass her,” Lexa laughed.

  Embarrass me.

  Inside, Luther was doing some knitting. Amy almost burst out laughing at the sight of that great bear of a man very carefully knitting socks. It was a tight weave in a pattern that Amy recognized but had never mastered, despite her mother’s many lessons. What would mom think of all this? She pushed the thought down.

  Winonna came in next. She was tall and thin with a sharp nose, small hips, and a narrow waist. Despite this, she was quite attractive, as Merlin told her as he kissed her. She had three kids at her heels, two of them little more than toddlers.

  “I believe it’s your turn with these rapscallions,” she told Luther.

  Luther put his knitting up and towered over the kids. They stared up at him with wide, amused eyes. “Well, let’s get you rapscallions ready for supper,” he said, shooing them gently with his massive hands. He led them away, the youngest toddling after and calling “papa woofer” gleefully. They came back promptly, hands wet from washing.

  Daisy led them into the dining room. Even though she was the shortest, she managed to give the distinct impression of towering over the others. Merlin went into the kitchen and came out moments later with a tray of roasted vegetables.

  As if the sight of Luther knitting hadn’t been enough, there was Merlin. He was small, dark haired, and compact, with a dark intensity about him, standing there in a brightly colored apron.

  “Is it a holiday?” the older boy asked. Erick was his name, Amy remembered. The girl was Sky and the youngest Ewan.

  “Yes,” Daisy replied. “It’s our first chance to play host to our new guest, Amy.”

  The meal was long and leisurely. Despite her day-old promise to never drink again, she took a few sips, and then a glass, of the wine Merlin offered. They ate and spoke lightly of their day.

  After the meal was done, they retired to the veranda. Luther produced a small flute from somewhere and began to play. It was a light, airy tune, and the kids danced madly to it.

  “A jig, my good sir,” Rowan cried.

  Luther began a faster tune, and Rowan danced gracefully. Daisy leaped up and joined him. Lexa grabbed Amy by the hand and led her through the steps of the dance.

  Merlin disappeared inside and returned with two drums. He sat down and began playing one. Ewan toddled over and beat crudely on the other until Winnie took it from him.

  After a while, Daisy took the flute from Luther and Merlin handed him the drum. The two started a slow, stately piece. Merlin bowed deeply to Lexa and Amy, but it was Amy’s hand that he took. He led her through the simple but elegant dance.

  So the evening passed. As the shadows lengthened across the path and oil lamps appeared at neighboring houses, Luther led the children inside for bed. Merlin lit lamps on the porch, and Daisy produced a small bottle of a rich, red wine.

  In the quiet, Amy could hear music from the other houses. It was a comforting sound that wafted with the breeze through the forest. Luther returned, and they sat and talked well into the night.

  Amy could just make out an image of dancers at the next house. These are the children of a new earth, she thought, and the phrase swam through her head long after she went to bed that night.

  “Amy!” a voice cried as people started coming
out of the workshop. She craned to see. It was not Lexa, as expected, but Daisy.

  “How was your day?” Daisy asked.

  “Good,” Amy replied. It had been interesting. She had spent most of the day helping Merlin bake bread in the family’s mud oven.

  “Men cook here?” she had Merlin.

  “We eat,” he’d replied. “Why wouldn’t we cook? Besides, this is more like doing magic.”

  That answer had intrigued Amy enough for her to offer to help. She wasn’t sure what she had expected—him doing incantations and whatnot?

  Instead, they had mixed water, flour, and yeast . . . and kneaded and kneaded. Merlin talked the whole time, explaining about the four elements; earth, water, fire and air. The oven was made of earth, fire was built within. Water was mixed into the flour, and with yeast, the bread rose, bringing in air.

  It was all very fascinating, and she had learned a lot. For one thing, she now had names to go with the dark heavy loaves she had already learned to love. The dark brown ones were rye, the black loaves were pumpernickel, and the golden ones were barley. The sharp tasting ones were sourdough, made with wild yeasts that were left to work, sometimes for days, before the bread was baked.

  Fascinating though it was, it was baking, and that had never been Amy’s forte. By midafternoon, she was bored, so when Merlin had asked if she wanted to go meet Lexa at the workshop, she had quickly agreed.

  “My sweety,” Daisy greeted Merlin, giving him a kiss. “Lexa’s going to be a few minutes. She was working on a nasty problem.”

  They sat down under a small oak tree to wait. Lexa came out moments later, covered in grease and soot. “I need a bath,” she declared.

  “What happened to you?” Amy asked.

  “Working on an old diesel generator some village sent in. They have been burning straight oil in it, not converting it to biodiesel, for almost a year. It’s a mess.”