Prelude (The Songs of Aarda Book 1)

by K Schultz

  Some citizens greeted his arrival with enthusiastic salutes and smiles, while others grudgingly nodded or ignored him as they passed his booth. Rehaak ignored the stares and snide comments of people who curried Raamya, the mill owner’s favor, by making Rehaak’s presence in town uncomfortable. The animosity of a few townsfolk was a minor annoyance. Since most people tolerated his presence, he remained content with his life.

  Rehaak avoided the town’s politics and preferred the solitude of his wilderness home. People thought the dell was fey, and Rehaak was charmed since he lived there unaffected by its mysterious forces. He didn’t dissuade them since that belief fostered his mystique, but villagers never dropped by for a friendly chat. Everyone except Isil avoided the glade where he lived. She eased his solitude with her visits as she journeyed to and from Narragan.

  Business was brisk this market day. Millhands dropped by and bought liniment for their aches while other villagers purchased cough remedies, or ointments to relieve rashes. They thanked Rehaak and paid him with garden vegetables and eggs. Once the last of his customers left, he bent to stow the produce in his pack. A shadow fell across his stall.

  He hoped it was not Raamya, the sawyer, or his sons. Raamya’s firstborn and heir, Radik, was old enough to marry. By Abrhaani custom, a young man must have a house before he married. Through local gossip, Rehaak had discovered that Radik originally planned to claim the cabin where Rehaak lived. Rehaak, unaware of Radik’s intentions, when he took possession of the dwelling, earned Raamya’s animosity even before they met.

  Raamya, unlike other Narragan refugees, arrived in New Hope with significant wealth after the town had grown. He harvested timber and exploited the labor force in New Hope. Raamya oppressed and abused the poorest, who were his workers, and they bore the worst of his cruelty. Although few people liked Raamya, many deferred to him because of his power and influence.

  His three sons emulated their father’s attitudes. Any trouble in New Hope revolved around burly, tyrannical Radik, surly Ogun, and sly Mato. By claiming the cabin, Rehaak won favor with townsfolk, who got perverse pleasure from seeing the arrogant sawyer and his unruly brood bested by a newcomer.

  “Hello, Rehaak. I hoped you would be here today. I have a favor to ask,” a woman said.

  Rehaak straightened and turned toward the speaker. “Oh, hello, Latonia. I am overjoyed to see you, but where is your husband today? He usually accompanies you on market day.”

  “Raamya took the boys to Dun Dale this morning. They’re marking out a stand of timber for harvest.”

  “As I said, it is wonderful to see you.” Rehaak’s emphasis left no doubt about his feelings for Raamya. “I would be happy to help you. What do you need?”

  The plump middle-aged woman folded her hands across her stomach. “Well, it’s like this. The blacksmith who makes tools for our loggers has fallen behind on our orders, and Raamya’s become quite cross. He’s not the easiest man to live with at the best of times, but now he’s as grouchy as a bear waking from hibernation.”

  Rehaak smiled. “I am not sure I can help you with that. I do not have a potion to make him pleasant and gregarious.”

  “Oh no, the potion isn’t for Raamya. It’s for the blacksmith, dear. Well no, it’s not actually for the blacksmith; it’s for his wife.” Latonia laid her hand on Rehaak’s arm and whispered, “There’s a reason for the fellow’s tardiness. Apparently, his wife is ill, and he’s been taking time off work to care for her.”

  “What are her symptoms?”

  “She almost died giving birth, and she never regained her strength after that. I understand she has contracted a wasting disease. She gets weaker every day. You’ve proven yourself as a healer to everyone in New Hope. Can you make a potion for her?”

  “I can try. How soon would you need the medicine for?”

  “As soon as possible. I will pay a premium price, and a bonus if it relieves her suffering,” Latonia leaned close to Rehaak and whispered, “Everyone will benefit from a cure,” She smiled wistfully.

  “Anything for you, Latonia,” Rehaak said, and he meant it. Latonia, unlike her belligerent, overbearing husband, treated her neighbors with generosity and kindness. Latonia’s tender heart and kind deeds earned her the love of the townsfolk and made life bearable for people struggling to survive. Many wondered why she had married the boorish sawyer and why she stayed married to such a disagreeable man.

  Rehaak shook Latonia’s hand. “I will do my best to make a tonic for this blacksmith’s wife. I can return with it tomorrow if that is satisfactory.”

  “That would be splendid. Thank you,” Latonia said and disappeared into the dwindling market day crowd.

  .

  Rehaak rose early the next morning and got ready to fetch water from the nearby stream so he could start work on Latonia’s potion. The morning light played across the leaves. The air bore the musty smell of wet earth, and birds sang in the trees overhead. This morning, dawn struggled to burn through the overcast and left heavy mists hovering along the ground. Rehaak had experienced other dreary days of rain and fog since autumn arrived, but today was different. Something felt wrong. Are the villagers’ superstitions affecting me?

  Picking up his water bucket, Rehaak tried to shrug it off, but a raw and nagging dread intensified. Danger lurked in the mist this morning, and his heart hammered a faster rhythm against his breastbone. A chill spread from his neck down, and the hair on his arms stood upright. He scanned the dell, stepped back into the doorway, and reached for his staff, which leaned against the wall near the door. As he did, Rehaak sensed movement in the brush along the path to the stream. There was something or someone out there.

  “Show yourself, whoever you are!” he shouted but received no response.

  Village Toughs

  Over the last year, Laakea had grown another hands-width in height and now reached his father’s shoulder. At the age of thirteen, he was already taller than most Abrhaani men.

  Laakea jogged along beside his father. “Do you think the tonic will cure her? She’s been sick a long time.”

  Aelfric rarely answered any of his questions, so when his father replied, the boy stumbled and almost tripped over his own feet.

  “The folk in Dun Dale swear the hermit who has set up shop near New Hope can cure almost anything.” Aelfric looked back at Laakea and gestured impatiently. “Come on, boy, stop dragging your feet. Save your breath for walking. You could at least try to keep up. Just because your Ma feels a little better doesn’t mean I want to leave her alone for long. We need to reach Dun Dale and get the tonic back to her before nightfall. Pick up the pace, or I’ll send you back home. Your Ma begged me to take you along, so don’t make me regret my choice.”

  For the first time in years, hope seemed possible, and even his father’s usual gruff tone softened because of it. Laakea raced to catch up with his father, who hadn’t broken stride, and resisted the urge to skip down the trail beside Aelfric. Laakea’s heart did the skipping for him while they walked the rest of the way to the village. Aelfric had arranged to pick up the potion at the Dancing Dog Inn.

  People in their gardens at the edge of town stopped and stared. “Pay them no mind, son. You know the Greens don’t like us, but we don’t mess with them. They’ll stare, but they wouldn’t dare lay their web-fingered hands on us.” Laakea knew better than to argue the point. Raamya’s sons had laid hands on him several times, much to their regret. If those boys were present, trouble could erupt again.

  “Here, take this and get yourself a treat while I talk to Aert at the Dancing Dog.” Aelfric slipped three copper coins into Laakea’s hand.

  Laakea knew precisely where to spend this unexpected bounty. Sahki Lorg made honeyed spice-fruit. The confection made every youngster’s mouth water, whether Abrhaani or Eniila. Laakea raced straight to Sahki’s cottage down the street from the Dancing Dog. Sahki never stared at Laakea’s pale skin and hair, and she always gave him a little more than what he paid for. The mouth
watering scent of her confections wafted out the front door of her thatch-roofed house.

  Laakea, coppers clutched in his sweaty hand, swallowed a mouthful of drool as he stepped through the doorway. Inside the dark interior, a white-haired Abrhaani woman stooped over a kettle on the fire.

  “Good day, Madam Sahki.”

  The woman turned. “Aha, Laakea, it has been many moons since I saw you last. If you help me stir this pot so it doesn’t burn, I have something special for you.”

  “Of course.” Laakea strode over and took the spoon from her frail web-fingered hand.

  “Not like that. You’re such an energetic young man. Slower, just enough to keep the paste from burning at the bottom. That’s it. Goodness, you’ve grown so much since I last saw you. You must be bigger than your father.”

  “No, not yet. I’m only as tall as Pa’s shoulder.”

  “And how’s your Ma? I hope she’s feeling better.”

  “Not yet, but Aert has a potion for her, and Pa hopes it will help.” The delicious spicy smell of the confection in the kettle made Laakea drool. “I have three coppers to spend today.”

  “Oh, straight to business. Just a moment longer, if you please.” Sahki spread a sheet of parchment on the table nearby. “Now if you’ll help me lift this pot and pour the syrup onto this paper. I’m too old and feeble to do this myself, and my helper isn’t here right now. Once that’s done and cooling, we’ll make a trade.”

  Angry voices drifted through the open door. “Laakea’s in Sahki’s sweetshop. I saw him go in.”

  “Oh, bother. That’s likely Raamya’s brood, come to raise a stink as usual. Those boys are a royal pain in the ass. You stay right here, and I’ll go fetch your father. You’d think they’d have learned their lesson after you thrashed them the last time.”

  “It’s all right, ma’am. They don’t scare me. Radik is big, but he couldn’t win a footrace with a snail. I blacked both his eyes last time, and his younger brother Ogun has a scar above his eye to remember me by. Mato is smarter, he only watches the fun, so I never worry about him.”

  With fire in her eyes, Sahki pushed past Laakea and stepped outside to confront Radik and his brothers, while Laakea watched through the open door.

  “Radik, you big lout, take your nonsense elsewhere and take your worthless brothers with you. Don’t you dare harass young Laakea at my house.”

  “Out of my way, old woman. We have a score to settle with him.” Radik stretched to his full height and thumped his puffed-out chest with his fist. He pushed Sahki hard, sending her stumbling backward. Her head hit the doorframe with a sickening crunch. She twitched, and then her body slumped across the threshold.

  Laakea was in motion before his mind had time to form a plan of action. He leaped across Sahki’s body, grabbed Radik by the throat, and threw him to the ground, banging Radik’s head against the earth over and over until Ogun jumped on him. Laakea stood and shrugged Ogun off his back. Ogun staggered. He came at Laakea, arms flailing, and tried to land a blow. Laakea dodged Ogun’s windmill swings, waited for an opening, and with a single hard punch to the nose, flattened Ogun.

  When Laakea turned to face Mato, the youngster sprinted away and disappeared down an alley. Laakea bent to check Sahki, who lay where she had fallen. He picked her up and was about to carry her inside when someone shouted at him.

  “What have you done to my boys, you barbarian bastard?” Raamya stood nose to nose with Laakea, face flushed, and fists clenched. A crowd, including the village Elders, had gathered behind Raamya.

  Laakea stood with Sahki draped across his arms. “I did nothing they didn’t deserve.”

  “That’s a lie.” Radik stood and brushed the dust off his clothes and pointed at Laakea. “He attacked Sahki, and when we tried to defend her, he attacked us too. We shouldn’t allow Whites like him in Dun Dale or New Hope. Who knows what he planned to do with Sahki?”

  “You lying turd. When you pushed Sahki, she fell and banged her head. I stepped forward to protect her from you.” Laakea’s pulse pounded in his head and body like a war drum. A tide of anger surged inside him, time expanded, and everyone seemed to move at a slower pace. A hand descended on his shoulder. The firm grip brought him back from the brink of rage. Aelfric had arrived, and Raamya backed away.

  “I’m sure we can settle this peaceably,” Aelfric said as a woman approached to check on Sahki’s condition.

  “Your boy broke the peace when he attacked Sahki and my sons. He should pay for what he did.”

  “Why don’t we wait until Sahki recovers. Then we can ask her what happened,” Aert said. He looked at the woman who had checked Sahki’s pulse.

  With tear-filled eyes, she shook her head. “Sahki’s gone. Her old brittle bones gave way—her neck is broken.”

  Aelfric glared at the crowd. “How shall we settle this then? Everyone knows your boys have caused their share of grief in this village.” Heads nodded among the people gathered to watch the dispute. “You have no other witnesses, so why don’t we decide this the Eniila way — a trial by combat. Which one of you brave fellows will face my son in battle?” Everyone backed away and shook their heads, which left Raamya standing alone. “Aha, Raamya. It seems only you are man enough to face my stripling son.”

  Raamya looked around, realizing he stood alone at the front of the crowd. “That may be the way you Whites settle differences, but it is not the Abrhaani way.” His eyes traveled to where Aert and the village Elders huddled and whispered among themselves.

  Aert soon turned around and said, “We can solve this problem. Since there are no other witnesses, we invoke a bond of peace. Since Sahki has no living relatives, we won’t demand reparations for her death. Aelfric, we will ban Laakea from Dun Dale. Can you and your son abide by our decision?”

  Aelfric nodded in agreement, but when he glared at Raamya, the sawyer wilted, stepped back into the crowd, and tugged on his son’s arms to prevent further conflict.

  Radik cast a triumphant, malicious grin and thumbed his nose at Laakea while Raamya tugged at his sleeve, “The Whites have always been violent troublemakers. This will not end here.”

  Shadows

  The sun beat down on the clearing, and Laakea couldn’t stop smiling like a fool. Since he and Aelfric had returned with the hermit’s potion, Shelhera gained strength each day throughout the fall. Although bones still protruded here and there, her skin regained some color. She hummed a song of thanks to the gods for her health as she stooped and pulled weeds from among the cabbages.

  “It’s good to hear you sing again,” Laakea said as he knelt beside her and dug a stubborn burdock root from the ground. The heaviness that had hung over their lives had finally lifted. The potion had transformed the whole family. Even Aelfric smiled and sang now. His hammer beat out a steady rhythm in the forge house; “The Song of the Smith” echoed across the glade while he worked.

  “Have I told you how we came to live here?” Shelhera asked.

  “Only about a thousand times,” Laakea joked.

  “Well, why don’t you tell me the story, then?” Shelhera pushed Laakea. He lost his balance and tumbled sideways onto a row of lettuce. Shelhera laughed. “Take it easy on the vegetables, clumsy, or we’ll have nothing to eat.”

  Laakea pulled another handful of weeds, then asked, “Why do the Greens hate us?”

  “I don’t like to call them Greens. I’m not sure I understood the differences between our species until we came to Khel Braah and lived among them. The differences go deeper than the color of our skins and whether our fingers and toes are webbed or not. The Eniila and Abrhaani have fought for centuries. Peace only arrived after your father and other warriors drove the Abrhaani from Baradon. Although we have the same gods and language, we perceive Aarda differently than the Abrhaani, and that has caused conflict between us.”

  “What do you mean by that, Mother?”

  “The Eniila believe the gods gave Aarda to us to use, so we mine Aarda, harvest trees from the
forest, and eat animals we hunt, or we raise animals for food. The Abrhaani believe the gods gave Aarda to them to serve and protect. The Abrhaani consider what we do as the exploitation of Aarda for our own enrichment. Abrhaani reverence for Aarda borders on fanaticism.”

  “Is that why they have all those ceremonies to placate the gods when they cut down trees?”

  “Yes, and that’s why most Abrhaani don’t eat meat. That’s also why Raamya is unpopular. He cuts down live trees.”

  “That’s not the only reason Raamya is disliked.”

  “Granted, he’s an unpleasant fellow, but the Abrhaani consider what he does butchery.”

  “You’ve told me the story of how you and Pa crossed the Syn Gersuul to Khel Braah, but you’ve never told me why you abandoned your homeland. Why live here among people who hate us?”

  “As I’ve said before, that’s not my story to tell. I suppose you feel the hatred more keenly since Dun Dale’s Elders banned you from the village. Someday, gods willing, we will return to Baradon and find you a wife.” Shelhera fell silent. She stared at the trees near the clearing’s boundary, obviously fearful and shaken.

  “What’s wrong, Ma?”

  She pointed behind Laakea. “A shadow at the tree line moved, and I got a sudden chill. Look at my arm.” Shelhera stretched out her arm and showed Laakea the goosebumps. “Call your father, something bad is about to happen.”

  Her visible alarm startled Laakea. Shelhera was usually unflappable. He leaped to his feet, and his heart thundered in his ears. Panic lent speed to his legs as he raced to the forge house. “Pa, come quick,” Laakea shouted, desperate to make himself heard above Aelfric’s hammer blows.

  Aelfric, covered in sweat, stepped outside, shielded his eyes with his hand, and asked, “Why all this racket?”

  “It’s Ma. She thought she saw something lurking in the trees, and it terrified her.”