“Most suitable,” Xelph declared with a nod of thanks toward the Chartreusean lad before ordering the young bloods to cast their tents, set up the pfalz tent, and organize camp according to protocol.
Yorel said, “Our enemy dwells on the other banks of this wide river. The Ceruleans will not cross over. It is taboo. Sometimes we see them when we are out boating and fishing, but as we explained, they always stick to their side of the river and we stick to ours.”
“That, at least implies they are nowhere as aggressive and offensive as our enemy, the Pitter.” Xelph told him.
“Father will want to know about your enemies. I must go for now and leave you to set up camp while Siwel and I visit our family and friends to announce we are now of full fellowship, after which we shall return for you to usher you into the Mushroom Hall.”
The fledgling departed, and the young bloods set to work.
Xelph said, “In the realm of hospitality at least, the Chartreuseans appear to be as efficient and thorough as we are.”
“Except when they snare a body in them nets of theirs,” Khem declared in good nature.
Ary laughed. “At least you’ll have a story to tell your Annie when we return.”
The tents were quickly erected on the end of the peninsula, in a neat semi-circle facing the river. Crooked Jack shouted orders to one group of young bloods to dig latrines far down wind from the camp, while Elf Beard directed the positioning of the pfalz tent so that the village was clearly visible from the doorway. As usual, Ary, Long Swan, Xelph, and Ilkchild shared this larger red leather tent. It was the command tent and known in the Herewardi culture to be the center of government anywhere they traveled. Almost always it housed a swan lord, who in this case was Ary. Painted on the tent door was the crossed arrows and crest of Sur Sceaf. The tent was equipped with an ingenious folding table to serve as both a dining table and writing desk. There were also several small wooden trunks especially designed so as to keep water sealed out and thus preserve their maps and logs safe. It was understood by all that Ary was the hereditary and presumptive leader, but they also knew that Xelph was more proven and therefore was granted full command by Sur Sceaf. True to the Herewardi way, even though Ary was the son of the high lord and the grandson of the king, he was granted no special privilege and expected to earn his station through merit.
After camp had been set up and instructions given to the young bloods who were assigned their various tasks, Yorel returned and waited to escort them back to the village for their meeting.
Ary inquired, “Who among us is expected by Chief Eyf?”
Yorel said, “He expects five of you, of your choice.”
Xelph declared, “I want you, Ary, Long Swan, and give me a minute to think who else I will tap.”
Long Swan walked with three pigeons in a cage, messages already secured into bamboo tubes. “Forgive me Yorel, these are going to be the wings that bear our Lord Sur Sceaf the news that we have discovered a new people here and that there is at least one other people living across the River Aber Gael.”
Ilkchild said, “Did you tell him they are green and blue?”
Long Swan shot him a rebuking look. “Of course, and I mentioned how beautiful and fertile the land is. This land has great soils for farms if we can secure our new friends, the Chartreuseans, as allies. I have also informed my lord, that the delta is deep enough that they can port Turtle Duck’s ship, the Overo, with ease. If you will remember, that was what was planned on Flammalf’s original map.”
One-by-one Long Swan carefully released the pigeons, which circled overhead before taking wing to the north. “May the Gods send you on swift wings, my brothers of the sky.”
Yorel looked on in amazement. “You mean to tell me those rock doves will tell your chief all of that?”
“They are known as homers. I simply write a message, fasten it to their leg, and when I release them, they fly directly to their loft and home where someone will receive them and then take the message to the Lord Sur Sceaf.”
“Absolutely brilliant,” Yorel declared staring up at the birds who were rapidly disappearing into the clouds. “It’s hard to think that a message can be carried from one end of the heavens to the other on the wings of a bird. Chief Eyf would be most interested in this. He’s always had a fascination for birds.”
By the time the birds were well underway, Xelph had chosen Elf Beard and Ilkchild to accompany them. Yorel led them out of the camp and up to the village, with children stealing glances at them through the yew hedges and any other foil they could find to hide behind. He escorted them directly through the village past the curious huts, each with its fire pit nearby, under grass roofed shelters.
The whole place was now teeming with green people who barely spread out enough for them to pass. Flesh colored children stuck out their hands to touch the stranger’s colorful clothing. All the green adults remained withdrawn, but curious. Most bore cheerful welcoming smiles. Yorel led them past the guards, through the wicker door and up into the hall.
Inside the round structure the air was delightfully fragrant with sage incense burning in special acorn shaped pottery containers. The interior was warm and candles and torches burned on sconces by the large wooden pillars. Newly cut sweet grass was strewn over the floor with woven mats atop. All about the interior of the hall the Chartreusean adults sat on their mats and watched as Yorel properly positioned the strange guests from the north onto their honoray mats.
As they took their places, Ary whispered to Long Swan, “I was just thinking how awful it would be if the Pitters somehow had discovered these peace loving people before we did. They would all be placed in labor camps and worked to death to exploit the resources of this isle.”
Long Swan nodded, “I’ve always known the atrocities the Pitters are capable of, but to see such innocent and vulnerable people, so child-like and trusting, brings home the absolute need of protecting them, which means defeating the Pitters.”
The Chartreusean leadership sat on one side of the chamber, facing everyone else. Ary quickly counted twenty one and guessed there were maybe five hundred others sitting behind him and the other Syr Folk. The Chartreuseans present seemed evenly divided between men and women. Most were middle-aged and older. The men wore what seemed to be the general attire at all occasions, which was loin clothes worn like an apron that bore a dark blue border. The women, likewise, wore a sparkling white apron with a red border over their skirts. Their breasts were covered with a crisscrossed chartreuse green linen cloth. Backs were bear. All the men, except the chief, had close cropped hair and the women wore their hair tapered down to the shoulder blades.
Seated next to Ary, Xelph was intently studying the wicker work of the whole structure, no doubt intending to someday describe it to Muryh, much favoring wood over stone.
Xelph leaned closer to murmur, “Get a look at those tiny trees over there on a bench. Look on the table and in each window. They are not saplings, but have the appearance of mature trees and are probably hundreds of years old. How it’s done I don’t understand but apparently their roots are anchored in moss. They must have to trim both roots and branches on a regular basis to maintain them.”
Long Swan inquired of Yorel, “However do you keep those potted trees alive?”
Yorel who was sitting behind them, leaned forward to explain, “It is an art form passed down from our ancestors where we take young trees, train them to grow in small pots, then trim the roots, and shape the tree into hoary forms usually by training the branches to run horizontally with the use of strings. Then we sprinkle dry moss over the soil surface. When watered the moss grows to look like grass.”
“I would love it if you would show me how to do that,” Xelph requested enthusiastically.
Before they could discuss the matter further, Chartreusean men and women brought forth food and drink on trays with legs, which they placed before them. Some of the vittles were familiar, such as beans and rice, and other comestibles, such as many
of the seeds, fruits, and vegetables were unknown to Ary. Conscious that the villagers were watching, Ary dug in with gusto sampling each dish in turn, he found them all flavorful and exciting to the pallet.
It seemed he wasn’t alone when Xelph declared, “This tastes delicious. What is it?”
“This is the sun-tato root I told you about,” Yorel said with a proud smile. “We prepare it by roasting.”
Xelph said, “I can’t wait to take a tour of that sun-sato plantation.”
When they had eaten their fill, the same servants removed the trays.
“We the sages, sisters, and town folk welcome you to Arym Gael.” Chief Eyf declared. He sat in the middle of the Chartreusean Council and even though seated, appeared to be taller than most, with chiseled features and a particularly impressive regal manner. His pale blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and humor. The only indication of age was his long grey hair draped down his back. “I now ask my son, Yorel, to introduce our guests.”
Yorel sat a little straighter and placed his hand on Xelph’s shoulder. “Father, this is Xelph of the Syr Folk. Some of his friends and their animals are camped below. They are a band of explorers come out of the forbidden lands. They indicate they are on a peaceful mission to explore our world and wish to befriend us.”
Eyf smiled warmly, “You must be descendants of the Chartreuseans who long ago settled up in those lands, only to be attacked by horrific beasts. Those who managed to escape assumed all who had been left behind had been killed.”
“I’m sorry to tell you that we are not from those people,” Xelph said. “The Syr Folk came to this island from a large land across the great deep.”
“Inconceivable.” The buzz of comment indicated the others showed similar disbelief. “Our fishermen have told tales of sea-monsters that dwell in the deep. We call them dakosaurus, and too many of our men have been lost by the milling sea and the crushing ice that used to be there. And however could you survive the ferocious beasts that inhabit the forbidden land?”
“Our ships are as large as a tree and we slew the beasts when we arrived.”
One of the sages asked, “So you have beast-stoppers that can kill?”
“No, we just have blades, spears, and hounds.”
“I do not know ‘hounds’,” Eyf said with a curious look on his face.
“That is what we call our dogs. We have some back in camp I can show you, but they’re just bigger versions of your dogs, trained and bred for hunting.”
“Father,” Yorel said, “I think they are like the beaucerons the Ceruleans took with them when they parted from us.”
Eyf said, “Unfortunately our beaucerons were all killed off in the beginning. Now we only have small collies left. I have great anticipation of seeing these hounds for myself as well as the long earred strange sort of zebras my sons described to me.”
Yorel piped up, “Father, the Syr Folk also have rock doves that carry messages over great distances.”
There was another buzz of comment before the chief raised his hand for silence.
Eyf said, “It seems we have remained isolated for far too long, we don’t often even visit the other Chartreusean villages. I have spoken to the council on more than one occasion to change this, do more trading, have our youth mingle more. I accept your invitation with anticipation of seeing these ‘hounds’. In the meantime, it is our custom to share a pipe of ‘the Proving Smoke’ with the leader of our guests.”
One of the sages produced a bowl containing green chopped up leaves and proceeded to pack it into a large clay pipe. He lit it with a split bamboo lighter, took a deep puff to prime the pipe, then presented it to the chief, who passed it to the man on his left. He too, took a deep puff, got up and handed it to Xelph.
As he took the clay pipe in hand, Ary noticed the apprehensive look on Xelph’s face. “What sort of herb is it, you smoke?”
“We call it divine sage. It makes you wise. It is why we call ourselves sages, because we leaders smoke this divine leaf, it makes us one with the plant spirits.”
Xelph said, “I’ll give it a try.” After taking a few deep puffs, Xelph laid back on the mat with a strange look on his face. Long Swan stared at his best friend, quite concerned about his welfare. Xelph closed his eyes and began chanting a Sharaka healing song.
Long Swan reached over to take the pipe from him and handed it back to the sage, before shaking his friend. “Xelph, Xelph are you alright.”
“Have no fear for your friend.” Eyf told him. “He is in the World of Plant Spirits. He’ll be with us again presently. Leave him alone for now that his journey back may be pleasant.”
Elf Beard scowled, “This is more than just the sacred tobacco and herbs Mendaka offers in his peace pipe.”
“He does look like he’s dreaming.” Long Swan added.
At that Xelph opened his eyes, sat up, then he attempted to stand before Ary grabbed his arm holding him down. “Wait Xelph! Just wait! I think it’s probably best you remain seated.”
Xelph looked at him, his eyes gradually focusing. “Woah, a moment ago I was in a spiral of this building, spinning round and round. Everyone here was attached to me by spiraling roots until I floated off into the depths of some ancient tree boughs where I heard indescribable words coming from the leaves of trees. Chief Eyf, is it permitted for you to show me the herb you use to make this smoke. It has the power to pierce the veil of the spirit world.” He managed a smile. “I enjoyed the experience, but I don’t think I want to smoke any more for awhile.”
Eyf returned Xelph’s smile. “It is potent, but it also reveals that your heart is pure and that we may now trust your intentions.”
The chief signaled with a turn of his hand and cupbearers swiftly delivered a mildly fermented fruit drink.
“This drink is called noni nectar, it will soothe the spirit and revitalize the body.”
For the rest of the evening Xelph and Long Swan responded to the eager questions of the chief, the sages, and the sisters. After explaining the Syr Folk confederation in detail, they addressed the reasons for removing from the main land of Panygyrus to the island. The chief struggled to comprehend such an evil power as the Pitter Empire, and could not grasp that someone so far away could exert their power as far as the isle, that had never known even so much as one stranger before.
Yorel asked, “What flag do the Pitters display?”
“Oh, there are many. The Cha’Kal displays a coyote banner. The Skull Worm displays a skull with a worm crawling out of the eye, and Sanangrar displays a banner with a man hanging from a tree by his foot.”
Yorel’s face twisted. “I have seen the banner with the skull and worm.”
Elf Beard shot in, “Where did you see this, my lad?”
“When we were on our vision quest near the Labyrinthine Graben, along the coast at the place called the Death’s Mouth Cauldron. Apparently, they did not know of its churning waters and their ship was broken on the rocks below. We saw no survivors, but many bodies were covered in hosts of vultures. Do you think those men were your enemies?”
Xelph sighed, “Without a doubt. You are most fortunate that they were not able to make a successful landing.”
“It is strange,” said Eyf, “that such a thin line as the Aber Gael separates us from our enemy and yet we have little fear of molestation by them and you have enemies from afar off where the sun comes up across many waters and you fear them always. Why do your enemies not obey the boundaries?”
“Because you and your enemy are honorable people, both respect the boundary,” Xelph explained. “Our enemy has no honor and they regard no man as valuable. They believe that it is their inherent right that all men other than themselves should be abused by them.”
Eyf coughed, “Even the Cerulean Blue Men, though we have a long standing enmity, are not as your enemy. We have had few violations of the boundary and most of those violations if not all, were by young men, crossing over out of curiosity alone. Even then there has been no
report of aggression or harm in the last two or three generations.”
Elf Beard asked, “Do you ever fight among yourselves? One village against another?”
“We do not fight, but we do avoid contact to some degree with other villages. The Eng-Nesseans tend to practice plant magic which we do not condone. The Ele-Anoreans have more knowledge of both plants and animals than we do, but my village considers them to be somewhat offensive because they choose to remain uncolored and instead wear colorful clothing.”
“What do you mean?” Xelph asked.
“You will see many of the people of Eng-Ness here tonight. They are distinguished by the headbands, shell necklaces, earrings, and the black bandanas they wear. But the Chartreuseans we call Ele-Anoreans will only have a few representatives here tonight. You will know them for they are dressed in much finer cloth than anyone else possesses, and they do not partake of the Nyrth-Ka to color their skin as we do.
“My daughter, Ysys-Ka, also dresses as an Ele-Anorean, because I have been making efforts to be at peace with all people in our land and sent her to live with them for a time to learn their ways.”
Ary asked, “What of the Witch Queen the lads have told us about?”
“My people and the people of Eng-Ness and Duminabith fear the Red Queen, though I personally do not, and my daughter is infatuated with her. Some even say my daughter is bewitched by her, because she wears their clothing, but I think my people are only fearful of change.”
Xelph finished his noni nectar. “That is the same among my people as well. I think many feel a little uncomfortable with change, but still others of us find it most stimulating. Your culture is so interesting. I’m intrigued by all that I’ve heard and so are my friends. I have also seen how curious your tribesmen are about our animals and weapons. We invite you over to our camp on the morrow to examine them and to share more of our cultural beliefs.”
Eyf beamed, “It shall be done.”
* * *
Blufre’s village Apalala, was on the eastern banks of the river they referred to as the Big Stream, was just as Elmers but farther down near the southern delta. On the journey there, Mendaka and his crew passed through many smaller villages where the inhabitants came out to gawk and ask questions about this strange company of many colored men, and dogs, and particularly their strange beasts of burden. Each time they were stopped, Blufre delegated Elmer to tell the tale of his encounter with the Syr Folk.
The Bok of Syr Folk Page 17