by K Schultz
Laakea’s heel snagged on an exposed root, and he lost his balance. His backward momentum sent him rolling down the gravelly stream bank, rocks and exposed roots bruising him as he tumbled down the slope. He came to a stop at the water’s edge, his knife and his breath both gone. He stared at the gray sky, struggling to inhale. The fog had evaporated above the sun-warmed rocks of the streambed; he scrambled to his feet and looked for his dagger, spotting it beyond reach, a short distance up the slope.
Just then, all three lean, muscular wolves crested the lip of the bank and stalked stiff-legged down the hill toward him as Laakea scrambled toward the dagger. The gravel shifted beneath his feet. He stumbled and sprawled on the stream-bank well short of his goal. The leader, bulkier than the other two, approached the spot where his knife lay and stopped to sniff it. Laakea froze.
I’m done for. Laakea scrambled to his feet. Time slowed like it had in Dun Dale when he fought Raamya’s sons. An odd calm settled on him.
All his senses sharpened; the colors of the leaves became brighter; he heard insects crawling through the leaf mold beneath his feet. He smelled the sweet fragrance of the flowers on the forest floor and the musky dog scent of the wolves who menaced him. Before he closed his eyes and waited for the end to come, he noticed the wolves’ eyes glowed an unearthly shade of green.
Meeting
Laakea stood on the gravelly stream bank, eyes closed, shaking. His hands slid up to cover his throat as he awaited an ugly death. A rustling noise from either side of him emboldened him enough to turn his head and crack one eye open.
The two smaller wolves had walked past him to the creek where they lapped up water as if he didn't exist. A metallic click in front of him piqued his curiosity. Laakea opened his other eye and turned his head toward the sound. The biggest wolf sat on the rocks in front of Laakea and stared at him with those green eyes for a few moments before Laakea realized what had happened.
When I closed my eyes, my knife was well beyond reach. Now I only need to stoop and retrieve the blade lying at my feet. The big wolf set it there and then backed off, waiting for my reaction — there’s no other explanation. Laakea squatted to pick up his dagger while keeping his eyes on the animal. When the beast didn’t move, Laakea grasped his blade, slowly stood to his feet, and sheathed the weapon.
They would have attacked me long ago if they intended to harm me.
The big wolf rose and stretched like every village dog Laakea had ever seen. It padded past him to join the other two, and the youngster flinched and stiffened when the wolf’s fur brushed against his pant leg. The smaller wolves had finished drinking. Laakea rubbed the crust from his dry lips with the back of his forefinger and sidled closer to the stream’s edge. When the wolves backed away, he knelt, scooped up the cold, clear water in his cupped hands, and slaked his own thirst.
The wolves stood motionless until he stood, then they loped downstream along the rocky riverbank. After a short distance, they stopped. When Laakea stayed where he was, the leader trotted back toward him, cocked its head, and then returned to its companions. The giant wolf stopped a second time, looked back at Laakea, and tilted its head again as if asking Laakea to follow it downstream.
Shelhera had told him stories of animal spirits guiding heroes, and these green-eyed beasts weren’t behaving like the yellow-eyed wolves who attacked Blossom, his pet sheep. Laakea couldn’t believe he was a hero, nor did he think the folktales were true, but the similarity to his mother’s stories drew him forward. Did the gods send them to teach and guide me? He walked to where they waited, then followed the wolves as they trotted downstream toward the bend in the river.
Ten paces past the river bend, Laakea saw a man in a red robe filling a bucket with water. Laakea wanted to shout and attract the man’s attention, but he was unsure of the wolves’ reaction. The beasts trotted forward as if they either did not notice the fellow or they meant to lead Laakea toward him.
Once he had filled his container with water, the man straightened, sat on a boulder, raised a lit pipe to his lips, and drew in a long breath. When he exhaled, fragrant smoke drifted in Laakea’s direction. The boy and the wolves were less than twenty paces away and headed toward the man, who stared at the red, gold, and violet colors in the eastern sky.
The running water masked the wolves’ nearly silent approach, but Laakea’s feet slipped and skidded in the stream’s gravelly bank. Despite the racket, Laakea got close to the man before his crunching footsteps caused the fellow to turn his head. The stranger studied the youngster, then gazed at the wolves before he stood. He set his pipe on the boulder, smiled, waved to the boy, and shouted to be heard over the sound of running water.
“Hello, I am Rehaak. Glad to see you have awakened, and you have met my furry friends.” Rehaak pointed at the animals. “You appear much healthier than you did last night. While you slept, I thought I should get water so we can wash those filthy clothes of yours. How did you find me here? Why did you not use the path?”
“Well met, Rehaak. I am Laakea. I guess you’d say I found a shortcut,” Laakea replied with a smirk. “I owe you many thanks for your hospitality, although your wolves made a frightening welcoming committee when they led me to you.”
“You are welcome, but they are not my wolves, though perhaps I am their man. They guard me and observe me from the forest’s edge but never come as close as that.” Rehaak pointed to the animals, who sat in a semicircle just out of Laakea’s reach. “They must like you. Let us return to my cabin, where I will brew tea and fix breakfast because you are hungry, no doubt.”
“I wonder if they are the same wolves who tracked me last night. If not for my fear of them, I wouldn’t have found my way to your door. If so, they are extraordinary creatures,” Laakea said.
Sanctuary
Rehaak gestured for them to go. The path Rehaak had mentioned led up the bank and wound through the forest. The wolves followed behind them as they walked.
Laakea sized up the man as his father had taught him. The fellow was about thirty, with the greenish skin, webbed fingers, and emerald eyes of all the Abrhaani. Rehaak was shorter than Laakea but taller than most Abrhaani males, although spare and stringy.
Aelfric had often said, “Lean men have great endurance. Large muscles mean power, but in a long duel, the quick, wiry warrior often defeats the bigger, more muscular man.” All of Aelfric’s lessons applied to combat. Rehaak carried no weapons that Laakea could see, but Aelfric never went unarmed, and he insisted Laakea always carry a dagger.
Rehaak’s thin face and prominent hooked nose gave him a hawkish profile. Bushy black eyebrows and beard lent an enigmatic cast to his appearance. His green eyes, which seemed able to discern a man’s soul, glimmered with an inner light, and Laakea couldn’t bear more than a glance at them.
Rehaak’s calf-length, blood-red linen robe opened in the front and had green vine leaves embellishments on the cuffs, collar, and hem. The fancy garment, at odds with the ordinary tan homespun breeches and belted tunic beneath it, along with his meager belongings at the cabin hinted at a mystery. Laakea chose a safe topic to start the conversation. “Where did you, or rather, how did you find me?”
“In a way, you found me. When I awakened to use the privy last night, it was raining and bitterly cold. I suppose it was nearer to dawn by then. I left my door open to guide me back to the cabin. You lay face down across my path, and I tripped over you. I wasn’t able to carry you, so I dragged you inside by the wrists.”
“That explains this lump,” Laakea said as he rubbed the tender spot on the back of his head. “Your open door was likely the light I saw. The gods were merciful.”
“Well, one god was,” Rehaak said. He cocked his head and raised one eyebrow.
Laakea glanced at Rehaak’s face, then looked away to avoid Rehaak’s eyes. Eniila men avoided looking into the eyes of strangers because it was a challenge that could provoke a duel.
“I was alone and could not be as gentle as I would have l
iked,” Rehaak said. His smile projected genuine warmth.
“Well, I thank you, and I owe you a Life Debt. My parents taught me a man of honor always pays his debts, so I will repay you somehow.”
“You are not from around here, are you? Where are you from, lad?”
“My father is a blacksmith near here,” the boy replied and avoided the question.
“I heard of a smith in New Hope,” Rehaak replied.
“New Hope? No, we lived a half day walk northwest of Dun Dale,” Laakea said.
“Ah, Dun Dale is three days’ journey northwest of here. What has brought you so far from home?”
“I was headed toward New Hope, but I wandered off the trail.”
“But your parents must worry about you. Won’t they search for you?” Rehaak asked. When Laakea declined to comment, he added, “You are not Abrhaani.”
“No, we are Eniila, but my parents raised me here on Khel Braah.”
“There is so much animosity between our people, I am surprised any Eniila dwell on Khel Braah. Have you ever gone back?”
“Gone back where?”
“Back among your people, the Eniila, across the Syn Gersuul to Baradon.”
“Khel Braah is my home, and I can’t imagine living elsewhere. My parents were my people, the only Eniila people I knew. I can’t cross the Syn Gersuul if it’s as vast as my father said. My mother taught me your Abrhaani customs and manner of speech; although we use the same language, there are differences in pronunciation.”
“So now, young sir, you have set out to explore the world.”
“That sounds about right.” Laakea shaded the truth. When Rehaak remained silent, Laakea stiffened and added, “I know enough to make my way in the world. My parents taught me their trades and skills so I can survive, either here or elsewhere.”
“You were lost. What will you do now that you are found again?”
Laakea’s face and ears reddened as bright as coals in his father’s forge. A lump in his throat choked off any reply, and he stared at the ground and avoided eye contact.
Rehaak said, “It’s all right, lad, I had no wish to pry. I understand most people have things they would rather not discuss with nosy strangers they just met. Everyone, me included, has their share of secrets they would rather not tell the world.”
Laakea tried to swallow the lump in his throat. The tears that threatened to flow wouldn’t extinguish the fire of his shame. He looked at the ground. What should I tell him? What’s my next move? I wish the earth would swallow me so I can avoid answering more of Rehaak’s probing questions. Laakea risked a furtive glance at Rehaak’s face and noticed moisture building in Rehaak’s eyes. Will he understand and accept me because of his own secrets?
The youngster matched his stride to the dark stranger beside him. When he looked back, Laakea discovered the wolves had disappeared. Rehaak continued down the path in silence until they reached the cabin. Despite his fears, Laakea sensed he had found the right place.
He rescued me from a cold and well-deserved death. Shelter is more than I deserve. If I want the answer, I must tell the truth, but do I have enough courage? Will he let me stay once he learns about me? I hope he will since I have nowhere else to go.
A New Friend
The winding trail through the dappled shade of the enormous evergreens had led Rehaak and Laakea to the cabin. Rehaak opened the door. With a bow and a broad smile, Rehaak said, “Please be welcome in my home. This is the formal Abrhaani greeting to guests.”
“Thank you for your generous gift of hospitality,” Laakea answered with the correct ceremonial response.
Rehaak smiled, bowed again, and extended his arm, inviting Laakea to enter his home. Once they were both inside, he set his chair in front of the fireplace. He gestured for Laakea to take a seat and added wood to the embers in the hearth. “Someone has taught you the customs of our people and trained you well. Tell me about them while I prepare breakfast.”
“My mother, Shelhera, taught me Abrhaani etiquette and rituals. She said it was a sign of respect to understand and revere other people’s customs and behave with honor.”
Rehaak filled the large copper pot with water, set it on the fireplace trivet over the coals, and turned to face the boy again. The conversation, following prescribed rules, meant Laakea knew the responses Rehaak expected of him. The formal phrases gave them a framework for interaction and created a sociable, relaxed atmosphere.
“Your mother was right,” Rehaak said, looking into Laakea’s eyes. Laakea looked away immediately. “Do you have siblings?”
“No, only my father, Aelfric, and me. My mother died a while ago,” he said, his voice flat. “Do you have a family, Rehaak?”
“Alas, I have not seen them for decades.”
Laakea felt Rehaak’s eyes on him, measuring his responses.
“You must miss your family. Mother told me families are sacred in Abrhaani culture.”
“I seldom think of my family. My life differs from theirs, and my extensive travels have prevented contact with my parents and siblings.” Rehaak looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat. “There are other matters to discuss. If I may be blunt, I imagine you wonder if you may take shelter with me for a time, and how long I will allow you to stay.”
The boy stared at the floor again and nodded. “Yes,” he mumbled.
Rehaak paused, then continued, “I sense you have nowhere to go, so I invite you to stay as long as you want. My resources are limited, but you may share all I own, and you are welcome to it.”
The lad remained silent, searching for the proper response. Laakea raised his head and met Rehaak’s eyes momentarily, then looked away without answering.
“This is not a formal offer because of custom or duty. I need no formal answer. I am one man offering aid to another. You need not reply at once. You may wish to pursue other options; if you do, may the blessings of the Creator be upon you, and I wish you a safe journey. If you need my help, I give it with no expectation of repayment. You need time to ponder your answer. I simply wanted to set your mind at ease, so you do not worry, since worry inhibits learning. We will learn from each other if you accept my offer.”
Rehaak removed the leather pouches from the shelves on the wall and carried them to the table where the small pot sat. He then poured grains and dried fruits from the bags into the container. “This breakfast is my favorite. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.”
Laakea thought hard about Rehaak’s offer while he stared into the flames dancing in the hearth.
.
Rehaak’s first inclination had been to send the boy home, but when he saw how Laakea reacted to his earlier questions, he scrapped that idea. Someone, probably the father he spoke of, had driven Laakea into the night. He was just a lad filled with shame and fear, a boy who required help, regardless of his species. Rehaak would wait and gather information. Given time, he could draw the youngster out and hear his story.
Rehaak’s reservations about inviting the boy to stay revolved around himself rather than Laakea. He had lived alone for years and was ill-equipped to entertain guests. Until now, Rehaak’s sole guest, Isil, stayed only single nights.
Although Rehaak’s reservations remained, his faith in the Creator had strengthened. I prayed for another chance. Is this boy an answer to my prayer? I need not rush a decision I might later regret without divine guidance. There’s plenty of time to unlock his secrets and find a new direction.
Laakea’s arrival pricked his memory, something written in an ancient scroll about a group of Eniila warriors. Since he could not recover the words buried in his memories, Rehaak would have to risk a return to Narragan to consult the texts at the Scriptorium.
Fear
Laakea sat and stared into the flames, stomach knotted, and lips pressed tightly together, while Rehaak cooked their breakfast. The wavering flames in the hearth mirrored Laakea’s vacillating thoughts.
I have nowhere else to go, but can I trust this man? By the
questions he asks, and the things he says, he knows my thoughts. How can I stay once he realizes what I did, how badly I violated the rules of my culture, and the enormous penalty required by Eniila law for cursing my father? On the night I left home father said, “Men have required Blood Debts for far less contempt than you have shown me tonight.” If Rehaak discovers my disgrace, he may not risk sheltering me since it might cost him his life.
His thoughts circled and repeated in an endless loop, dragging him to the brink of despair, but he somehow reined them in before he plunged over the precipice and lost himself in the darkness.
Though his body sat motionless in the chair, his mind leaped and bounded like a rock tumbling down a steep slope. Despite his wish to stay, Rehaak’s kindness and generosity made Laakea nervous. It feels right to accept his offer, but he sees too much, more than I want seen. I owe him a Life Debt. If I stay, I can repay it, and that might atone for my other failures, and earn me a place in Arkad. Laakea rose and prepared to announce his decision to stay, but when he took a breath and made ready to speak, Rehaak pre-empted him.
“I must go to New Hope for supplies soon since I am not accustomed to having guests. We will need more food, and we must build a bed for you. I slept on the packed earth near the hearth my first nights here, and my back ached for days afterward.”
He knew I intended to stay. Laakea shut his mouth, swallowed hard, and fidgeted.
“Whatever you are running from will not touch you here. I knew this clearing was a sanctuary. It has been a place of healing and restoration for me. Since I moved here, I have only experienced danger once. The wolves protected me, so I am confident you will find peace here too. Anywhere else we would be enemies. In this refuge, isolated from the insanity affecting your species and mine, I hope we will become good friends.