The Bok of Syr Folk

by Russ L. Howard

  “Take good care, my ladies,” he said with a smile for each one in turn. “It pleases me much to see you all working together and befriending one another. I am sure it will not be much longer before we marry. Soon, I will know when it is time.”

  “Don’t take too long, Ary dear. There are other rams in this paddock,” Ilklilith said with a dimpled grin.

  Her sister gave a confirming nod. “Ilklilith is right. In fact, the Hickoryan wolves are already howling at our doors.”

  Before he could give answer, Brekka shouldered past them and grabbed his hand. “Take me with you Ary, please!”

  “Out of the equation, Sis, I am sorry, but it just cannot be this time. We are going into unknown dangers. Besides, having one lovely lass in the midst of a bunch of young bloods is a sure invitation for disaster.”

  Brekka put her fists on her hips and said, “I can take care of myself. I’m going to be a lady knight, you know.”

  “You have always been what your mother calls, a rabauke, but not long from now, you will have your own twelver of lady knights and the pattern of your life will unfold, then we will be eager to have your company.”

  Workmen were passing with their tools, while merchants were carting their goods to the open air market at south gate. The streets were getting crowded when the blast of a hunter’s horn just outside the gate, signalled for the expedition to form up at the gate.

  Brekka wept as Ary hugged her one last time. Walking down the trail he looked back at his sister’s face and felt genuine sadness to leave her, so great was their bond. Then he waved to all as he and Xelph walked outside the south gate to greet the other members of the expedition.

  * * *

  As Sur Sceaf sat in the Great Hall with his new scribe, Devorah, describing to her what her new duties would be and explaining the Herewardi perspectives on life, he pulled out one of the letters she had brought him in a bag of dispatches. Inscribed by Sur Spear, it informed him that his good friend, Hartmut had been successful in rescuing Mendaho from the Pitter slave camp and military outpost of Copperopolis, passed through the robber bands’ territory of the Sacramen, and that they had already left the Stonyford stronghold for Ur Ford. From there they would soon embark to Godeselle.

  Sur Sceaf was thrilled to the core at this excellent news, that his lifelong friend had survived the heroic pursuit of his true love. Successfully snatching her from the very jaws of a Pitter zonga was no small feat. He could not wait to share this news with his wives, especially Taneshewa who had recently delivered a strapping son, making his seventeenth son.

  The other information passed on by his father was not as heartening. Information about a planned attempt upon his life was proving more and more credible.

  Devorah was aghast when she read it. “I am outraged. Who would want to kill you, my lord?” Her milk-white complexion showed an obvious flush of indignation.

  “Intrigue and betrayal are to be expected,” Sur Sceaf said with a shrug. “Our history is rife with such plots, especially in the early years. As for the most recent one, not only must I ask you not to discuss any information we have read about this plot or Standing Bull’s involvement. It’s also imperative that you not mention Hartmut and Mendaho are returning, as it will give me a means of unseating Fromer from his usury of Quailor authority.”

  Devorah’s eyebrow lifted as she took notes then said, “Surely, you don’t think a Quailor would be a spy. Do you?”

  “No, I don’t. You see, there are enemies abroad and enemies at hand to be dealt with, some deadly, others mere irritating obstacles. Hartmut wields a powerful influence in the Quailor community, and I will use him to restore order when he returns. Within the Quailor community, Fromer is a nasty rabble rouser, a quaelgeist, who constantly plots to garner power to himself without giving any thought to the benefit of the community or the welfare of his people. He has tested me on every conceivable point that enters his fevered brain. Much innocent blood has flowed as a result of his holier than thou attitudes, and his zeal without reason suffocates harmony among the other tribes.”

  Devorah said, “I’m sure I’ll come to understand it in good time, but for now, please be assured that this will all remain under four eyes.”

  * * *

  Devorah’s Log :

  I am Devorah, of the Jywdic Tribe, appointed scribe for the Lord Sur Sceaf, and this is the first entry in that log that I have been tasked to maintain in the absence of the well-respected lore master, Long Swan. It is a great and humbling honor to be thus chosen, and I have vowed to be worthy of this vital responsibility entrusted to me. It is the tenth day of the Moonth of Bird Song, in the year 585 HSO, as adopted by the Syr Folk as the official calendar. It is also the Day of Sacred Horse Racing, the sport of Herewardi kings.

  Lord Sur Sceaf is eagerly awaiting the arrival of reports of the progress of the two exploratory parties. Report will come by carrier pigeons bred especially for such long treks.

  Sur Sceaf has obtained report from Zrael that some of the Quailor are moving beyond the bounds that have been set once again. He reported that in the absence of Chief High Priest, Elijah, the acting leader of the Quailor, that Fromer Muckenschnabel, was enforcing retrenchment and compelling everyone to follow his plan and disregard any former plans. Additionally, Zrael reported that Fromer was spreading the false rumor that Sur Sceaf had secret plans to compel the Quailor women, even the married ones, to become wives to the Herewardi.

  Lord Sur Sceaf is much enflamed by this report and vows to quash this vile rumor before it can take root, as well as to put a halt to settling outside allotted areas.

  * * *

  Sur Sceaf was livid as he mounted White Fire and rode out into the downs next to the sacred bamboo and agathis groves, which had been set apart for the haligwaecca. As he rode into the newly cleared grove of trees he spotted a large green tent on his left, several cabin foundations, and several of the dycons mulling about. On his right he saw Linney Knighton giving orders to some men cutting into a large grove of kauri trees.

  Sur Sceaf rode over to demand, “What is the meaning of this?”

  Linney said, “We are cutting down timber for our floors. You know, the agathis wood splits perfectly into smooth boards.”

  “What I know is you are committing a crime and I command you to cease and desist immediately. This grove was set aside as a sacred trust by the haligwaecca. We told you which trees you could cut for the floors of your church. We have not authorized you to cut others without our express permission. This was made known to your dycons moonths ago.”

  The pinched-faced youth said, “Well, Fromer felt it was necessary for us to get out of Godeselle for fear we were becoming too ‘elbisch.’ He said if we continue to live among the Herewardi we will all get ‘alpdruck’ and die.”

  A mousy voice came from behind him, “What is the problem?” The grating voice belonged to Fromer.

  Jerking his mount around, Sur Sceaf declared in a tightly controlled voice, “The problem is you are in direct violation of Syr Folk Law and not for the first time, I might add.” Then he sucked in a deep breath and declared coldly. “First off, you are settling outside an allotment. You remember the problems that generated for you before. Secondly, my wives set aside this grove as a sacred trust where they could come to pray and worship and you knew that also.” Sur Sceaf felt his blood boiling and his pulse pounding in his temples as he dismounted.

  Fromer seemed to delight in Sur Sceaf’s rage. “Perhaps you have forgotten that you promised sovereignty to us when we got settled here.”

  Sur Sceaf strove to rein in his anger. “We are not fully settled here yet. Elijah and I have determined when sovereignty will be granted and we are not there yet.”

  “Well, Elijah is not likely to return, and now that Habraham has taken ill, I am acting high priest. I have seen how lustfully your young bloods have looked upon our maidens. And I’ve determined that now is the time to take our sovereignty into our own hands.”

  Sur
Sceaf felt his pulse racing as he lunged for Fromer’s throat and violently shook him by his lapels before hurling him a good ten feet through the air, sending him tumbling through the dirt. He remounted and said, “If anyone wants me to spill their bowels here and now, just stay here for another moment. If not, I advise you to get back to your allotted settlement as fast as you can.”

  The Quailor quickly assembled their tools and stock and hurried back to their settlement. Fromer did not rise easily and Lenny had to assist him to his feet while the two whispered and hobbled down the road.

  Sur Sceaf took a deep breath, looked at the fallen kauri trees and shook his head. He vowed inwardly, By the gods, if Fromer did not have the ear of such a great number of Quailor, I would personally banish him and his toadies off the isle for good. As it is, there are too many good men to lose by ridding the isle of him. He is like the tares. I cannot rip him out without also uprooting the wheat. Alas, the harvest will come soon enough.

  * * *

  Sur Sceaf had left orders that as soon as the guards in the tower sighted the ship with Hartmut and Mendaho aboard they would send word to him. Sur Sceaf was at the manor, enjoying lunch with his family. As soon as the silver-clad harrier, Heremod, brought word of the ship’s sighting, Sur Sceaf and Taneshewa hurried off by horse to the Godeselle. They had just arrived at the Gorse Gate when they caught sight of Hartmut and Mendaho coming up from the dock. They greeted their friends with tears, hugs, and hand shakes.

  Taneshewa hugged Mendaho and said with watery eyes, “Meny, I’ve missed you so much. Brekka kept saying you had a fate to fulfill and I just had to hope for the best, but I confess I always feared the worst.”

  Mendaho stepped back and held up her hand. On her finger was a shining new wedding band. Taneshewa yelped and stomped her feet for joy. “You did it, didn’t you? You married the Black Hatter.”

  “How could I resist? It’s not every man that will walk into the jaws of Skull Worm’s Pitter zonga to rescue you.”

  “I am so thrilled for you. Finally you’ve got a man of your own and one of the best in the land. You both have got to come and stay at Neorxnawang until you build your own place. This evening we shall feast with you in the palace.”

  Hartmut grinned from ear to ear. “We’d love that. I delivered the golden monies over to Pyrsyrus as soon as we arrived. And I have a bag of messages everyone asked that I deliver to you.” He removed the pouch he had slung over his shoulder and handed it to Sur Sceaf.

  Sur Sceaf smiled, “I can’t tell you how much it means to have you back, my friend. If you can tear yourself away from your new bride come with me to my chamber. After I sort through these messages, I want to tell you what Fromer has been up to and perhaps you know how to neutralize him.”

  * * *

  Elijah’s Log: It is the twenty first day of April, I do not know the Syr Folk name for this month and will enter it later. I do know that the Herewardi decorate their sheepfolds with green branches, kindle fires and run their livestock through the smoke at this time of year. Here in what Flammalf the Mapmaker has designated as the Suff Land, we find ourselves strangers in a strange land. Early this morning we came up against a massive outcropping of rock that Flammalf had named the Dragon’s Back. Stretching both east and west as far as the eye could see on both sides of the River Mahallah. It presented a formidable barrier and took some time to locate a suitable passage for men, mules, and asses. I must give credit to the young Cherokee lad, son of Turtle Duck, who discovered the pass half hidden in the shrub border and rock maze. The thunderous waterfall there fell by Govannon’s estimate, at least, a thousand feet. Taking great care, we managed to descend to the bottom without mishap or injury.

  Stretching before us was an endless valley with scattered mesas, leagues of grasses, and massive wild herds of ungulates. Mendaka suggested Govannon map and survey the terrain and make note that these mesas would be ideal for outpost towers, signal fires, and places to have pigeon cotes for messaging routes. Mendaka has instructed me to note that this would indeed be a good allotment for the Hickoryan ranchers as Sur Sceaf had hoped. These mesas give the appearance that the lands atop them are floating in the skies.

  Because of the exhausting descent from the Dragon’s Back Ridge, Mendaka decided we would make camp on the first mesa we encountered, placing us safely above any wild animals, and allowing us a perfect view before we launch our expedition into the unknown in the early morning.

  At twilight as Shark-Moon-Boy was gathering firewood, his attention was drawn to the south after staring into the distance for a few moments, whereupon he flagged the others to join him. To everyone’s utter amazement, he had spotted a distant campfire. Even using their far vision, neither Stone Face the Cherokee nor Shark-Moon could discern more than silhouettes moving around a fire. Since it was much too late and too dangerous to investigate, Mendaka ordered a watch with no campfires. None of our other brief forays into the undiscovered lands had ever discovered any inhabitants, native or otherwise. We decided, it was possible the men around the fire had also come by ship and are exploring the same way we are. But if so, who are they? Mexus? Friscans? Citriodorans? Or, Gott in Himmel forbid, Pitters? Mendaka determined it was vital to know before we proceeded any farther.

  * * *

  The campfire in the distance had burned bright all night. All four of the Cherokee boys were far-seers and yet none of them could make out anything more than human forms and the shadowy forms of creatures that might pass for ponies, were it not for their strange gait and tails. Mole Finger said he thought they were huge dogs. On the mesa those who kept watch passed time by guessing what could be going on around that campfire. They heard no sound, saw no activity, and the hounds remained quiet until morning.

  It was a bright clear day, a refreshing change from the mists and fog they usually awoke to in the upper valley. As they packed up camp, Mendaka kept an eye on the straight plume of smoke in the distance.

  “The first thing we have to do,” Mendaka said, “is investigate that fire. Until we know differently, we should consider those who built it as a threat and be on constant alert.”

  Coyote had scouted the best path down the steep south side of the mesa. Even so, the descent was far more difficult than the north path leading up. When they once again reached the valley floor, they paused to rest the pack animals and feed the dogs.

  On the valley floor, the grasses were grazed down to about half a foot in height, making passage easy for both man and beast as they set off using the blue smoke plume as their orientation. It wasn’t long before they came across a game trail and heard the grunts and snorts of herds on the plains. The farther they went, the more herds they encountered. The ungulates were many they had never laid eyes on before. Some looked like black and white striped horses, but sounded more like asses. Others looked like colorfully spotted Sharaka horses, but had necks that stretched up into the trees. Still others looked like giant antelope with long swirled horns.

  All that day they lit no campfires, ate dry or raw meat and grains, and moved in the direction of the campfire. Toward twilight they heard strange sounds nearby that aroused the hounds, and the handlers had great difficulty keeping them quiet. As they neared the campfire, they moved as stealthily as possible.

  The sun was just setting when they came across some tracks, both human and animal.

  “It must have been a hunting party,” Shark-Moon-Boy said, “but get a look at the size of these dog tracks,-- or is that a dog at all? The tracks are as big as a bear’s.”

  Coyote the Ndee studied the tracks. “There is no dog I know of that is this big. Yet, the tracks clearly show they are dogs. Just as these are clearly human footprints. I see five sets of dog prints, too many humans to count or sort. It appears they took that game trail heading south.”

  Yellow Horse went down on his haunches and also read them. “At least we don’t have to worry that they are Pitters. No Pitter goes barefoot and they have no tolerance for dogs. Pitters belie
ve contact with the ea-urth is evil and induces lust, even though they are just about the only rapists I ever knew of. They forbid natural urges and then are overwhelmed by them. I find it is what makes them so twisted.”

  Govannon brought up the hounds and compared track size. “Big,” he said laconically. “I hope this won’t turn into another troll hunt.”

  Coyote said, “I don’t think it’s a troll. From the looks of it they were hunting the antelopes or goats or whatever those creatures are. Clearly they are without fear as they leave an easy trail and one of them is a very large man.” Coyote flagged Herman over. “Put your foot beside that print, Herman.” The Kettle Maker did as he was asked. “Well, that’s a big print for sure, but Herman’s foot is even bigger.”

  They followed the strange foot prints to a campsite. To one side the carnage of a slaughter laid piled in the brush. The fire in the circle of rocks had burned to white ash and vultures were circling overhead.

  Mendaka said, “From the state of these coals, I’d say they have been gone for around three hours.”

  Shark-Moon glanced around wearily. “Whatever were those sounds we heard, like yelping, as we were coming in? Do you think it was the dogs?”

  Coyote said, “No! Those were definitely not dog sounds. That was some other wild animal.”

  “Well, our dogs seem calm now,” Stone-Face said, “so I think it’s safe enough to camp here for the night. I know this much, my feet are killing me,”

  His brother, Mole Finger argued, “You’re always complaining about your flat feet.”

  Rags, Mole Finger’s other brother said, “Leave him alone, he has enough problems without you adding to it.”

  Mendaka glanced at the pile of stacked firewood, “We’ll make camp here. But just to be sure we’ll do without a fire again tonight. Need to see what we are trailing before they can see us.”

  Again they ate a cold supper, chewed raw meat, and sat near the dying embers of the fire as the moon rose blue in the east.