Besieged Page 11

  Arrows and spears were hurled at her with great force and precision, but the light barrier stopped all of them. In spite of the danger, she sat relaxed and happy inside. At one point she took a nap.

  She blinked the vision away and reached for her pack.

  Kyam had anticipated her need. He handed her the paper and charcoal. He turned to Hezzor. “My wife hears from The Masters in pictures. If we wait quietly while she draws, she may share the message with us.”

  The werf immediately folded himself into a compact stick shape and stared at her. Castoff stretched out, nose on paws to watch. The two remaining werfs mimicked his pose. Only Kyam, busy with food and fire, didn’t look at her as if she were an actress on a stage.

  Focusing on the image she’d seen, she sent the charcoal skimming over the page. The pictures sprang from it as if alive.

  As soon as the charcoal stopped moving, the werfs sat up. They quivered from ear tip to tail. Anticipation? She could see how hard it was for them to wait for an invitation to look. The same eagerness when they waited for a taste of The Masters’ water. Every bit as hard as waiting to tussle with Kyam. She motioned them to come.

  She was immediately surrounded. Hezzor spoke in a hushed whisper. “Grate hon-or too hear from Mas-ers. What Thay say?”

  The younger feline stuck an inquisitive nose close to the paper, its fur brushing her cheek. Purdy. Shiny. Toy?

  “No, a shield.” Cierra added a couple of lines to the sketch. The feline’s whiskers tickled.

  Good protection?

  “Ye—es.” Her hand froze. She’d just held a conversation with a werf—but her side was the only audible part. She stroked the feline’s side. “Did you speak?”

  In my head.

  “Oh my. Kyam?”

  He strode to her side. “A message of danger?”

  “No. Actually one of safety. But I think—I’m almost sure that—is it possible?”

  “My understanding is shipwrecked on the shoals of your half-finished thoughts. Toss me a line, please.”

  “It spoke to me. I heard it in my head.” Her eyes widened, “Have the dangers set my mind adrift? Perhaps I allowed my imagination too much freedom?”

  He stroked her hair and then the werf’s fur. “Will you speak again?”

  “It likes to be petted.” She fingered a silky ginger ear.

  The touch of your hand sends warmth all the way to my tummy.

  Kyam grinned. “He says it feels as good as warm soup.”

  Cierra sighed hard enough to ruffle the werf’s whiskers. “My head hasn’t run aground.”

  “And the ancient writings are true. I wonder—Cierra, continue to touch it.” Kyam took a step back and removed his hand. “Ask it a question.”

  She thought for a moment. “What is your name?”

  Byssop.

  “Bishop.”

  Rr-rough pr-rounciation.

  “Very funny.”

  “Care to share the joke?” Kyam’s eyebrow was up.

  “You didn’t hear?”

  He shook his head. “Contact must be necessary.”

  When their meal was finished, they sat in a circle. Hezzor draped himself over Kyam’s back like a cape, his arms crossed over Kyam’s chest and his head resting on Kyam’s shoulder. Simplon and Riflet, the two canines, pressed against his side. Dareby and Byssop kept either tail or paw touching Cierra. Castoff lay at Kyam’s feet, tail touching.

  Hezzor, with occasional additions from the others, told them the story of the Great Betrayal.

  In the most ancient of times before countries had moved so far from The Masters’ Empire, werfs were the beloved and loyal companions of humans. We were not owned; not bought, sold, or traded. For it was the right of all werfs to choose their humans. We had been given the gift of seeing within the human heart, and we picked our companions according to what we found there.

  Thus a man was honored and respected according to the number of werfs living in his household. No man could expect to lead, if he had less than twenty prime werfs.

  In the times of men, a king had two sons. The elder was a cruel and bitter man who was despised by all for he, despite all his efforts to bribe, steal, or coerce, had only two werfs—one a tottering old fool and the other a blind pup.

  “This is not what your wise one said.” Cierra frowned at Kyam.

  “Hush.”

  The younger son was the opposite of his brother—merry, tender-hearted, and generous. He had fifty of the finest werfs to be found anywhere. The people of Tesmore lived secure in the knowledge that their next king would be as excellent as their present.

  “Oh no. I can see where this is going.” Cierra shook her head.

  “Yes. But let Hezzor tell it, please.” Kyam rubbed Riflet’s ear and motioned the insect werf to continue.

  But as is usually the case, the elder lusted for the throne but was unwilling to make himself worthy of it. He began to search for a way to seize the crown. Two things kept him from his goal: his brother’s life and the werfs’ assessment of his character.

  He devised a plot, hideous and depraved. He killed his brother and made it appear that the werfs had done it. The old king’s grief was so great, he lay in his bed unmoving until he breathed his last.

  Meanwhile the elder brother issued a declaration that the werfs were not to be trusted and a decree that all werfs were to be killed.

  In a day’s time we went from being human’s most prized possessions to being hunted outlaws. We had no warning. No killing skills. No defense. Those few humans who tried to protect their werfs were slaughtered along with them.

  Our great gift became our great peril.

  We were not accustomed to surviving on our own. We had never known the privations of winter without a warm hearth. Most of those who managed to escape to the mountains died before spring brought food and warmth to us.

  Cierra closed her eyes, a tight band squeezed her chest. “Some days belonging to the race of man is beyond bearing.”

  Those few who survived grieved their losses, mourned the life that was gone forever. And then they grew angry.

  Talk of revenge tasted sweet. They knew humans—both their strengths and weaknesses. They knew the deepest fears of their hearts. Man’s habits were as familiar as their own fur.

  They plotted. They practiced their plans. They decided teams of five would be most effective—each member with a designated task. And then they struck. Human blood and human terror set a fire in their bellies and begat an unquenchable thirst for more of the same.

  Soon humans no longer ventured far from their cities and we roamed free throughout most of Tesmore.

  But our revenge came with a price. We began to change. First from the dog-like form to that of our natural enemy—felines.

  Still we didn’t heed the warning. Our hatred grew and grew. And then to our horror we changed again into a bloodless insect incapable of warmth or tenderness.

  Even with the living example of what awaited us if we didn’t cease our remorseless quest for human blood, we didn’t stop. We were caught and couldn’t free ourselves.

  As if incredibly weary, Hezzor lay his head down. If not for The Masters’ water, we would be without hope. The whines and whimpers that had accompanied Hezzor’s tale died away, and all the werfs lay panting.

  “Humans did you a great wrong.” Kyam rested his hands on Simplon and Riflet. “On behalf of the ignorant ones—as well the evil ones—I beg your forgiveness.”

  Cierra, who had been stroking Dareby and Byssop, crooned a lullaby. “Rest, sweet innocents, while The Masters watch over you.”

  Hezzor gave a long screech. How I wish I could cry. Yes, beloved humans, for your sakes and because you ask it. We will forgive. Four tongues reached out to lick Kyam and Cierra’s hands.

  “Do it for your own sakes as well.” Kyam smoothed Hezzor’s head. “You know the bitter results of vengeance. Now taste the sweet fruit of forgiveness.”

  ✽✽✽

  Cie
rra studied the sun’s position. Four fingers of sun remained. They had spent almost two hours comforting the werfs. She gathered food scraps, paper and charcoal—she now had sketches of all five werfs—to put in her pack. The absolute stillness made her look up.

  Sorrow and resignation sat on four furry faces. What bothered them so? Hezzor rocked side to side a low mournful hum vibrated in its skull. What were the werfs to do now? Leave them alone in an unfamiliar and adversarial land? Did they expect to be abandoned? But to take them along would endanger them. Perhaps Kyam had a solution. She swiveled to face him.

  He nodded, hand stretched to rest on the insect's shoulder. “Friends, how did you come to be in Capular?”

  Hezzor shivered. Simplon and Riflit cowered behind her legs while Dareby and Byssop snarled. Great winged creatures snatched us from our home and carried us here. It was a prolonged and most uncomfortable flight.

  They cared not for the damage their talons inflicted.

  We never stopped for food or drink.

  Which didn’t matter, since their stench made our bellies miserable.

  “Fulcarries.” Kyam and Cierra spoke together.

  So returning to Tesmore is not possible. Hezzor turned in a circle as if searching for a solution. Not that we’d be welcome, since we have reconciled with humans.

  Outcasts. Byssop whimpered.

  Outlaws. Riflit curled into the smallest possible ball.

  No home. Dareby laid his head across Simplon’s back.

  Cierra saw her own fears in their eyes. Felt their hopelessness as her own. Tears dampened her cheeks.

  “You are welcome to travel with us.” Kyam crouched to fasten Castoff’s pack. “But it is a perilous path we tread. Our past companions have even found it deadly.”

  All five werfs sat up. Tails began to swish. Ears alert, they waited.

  “The one who ordered your appearance here wants me dead.” Cierra lifted her pack. “By traveling with me, you invite disaster.”

  Hezzor knelt before her, one antenna touching. In ancient times it was the honor of werfs to perish with their humans. You have our allegiance, my queen.

  She rested her hand on the crusted shoulder. Not the slightest shiver rippled through her. “I am honored and humbled, my knight.” A sudden image made her heart pound. “But perhaps there is a better way.” She gripped Kyam’s arm. “The river. We are sure it flows from The Masters’ Empire. What if there is an entry accessible from the river?”

  He nodded. “If they could find it and then return...did your puzzles not say that your answer lay there?”

  “Yes.”

  A task for our queen? All five werfs quivered. A great and terrible quest with much to be gained?

  She shook her head. “Are you sure they’re not Elpians in disguise?”

  Kyam laughed. “First cousins at the very least.”

  Hezzor nodded. There is a story passed down from before recorded time. An archipelago that rings The Masters’ Empire. Its waters touch our world on one side and The Empire on the other. A wondrous place of beauty and feasting. A place where The Masters presence is keenly felt.

  “An awesome place indeed.” Kyam’s face lit up.

  “And one you haven’t visited.” Cierra grinned. “Perhaps a wedding journey?”

  “A grand idea.” Kyam turned to Hezzor. “Is it large?”

  It is strung out across melos and melos. Each island has its own blessing.

  “And people could go there and then return to their native lands? It is not like The Empire where no one comes back?” Despite the dangers of her world, she was reluctant to leave it for all time.

  Hezzor’s antennae bobbled. It is there for that purpose. To taste and sample and return full of passion and longing for The Empire.

  Riflet bounced. It was said that in ancient times all loyalists to The Masters traveled there at least once in their lifetime.

  Hearts grew strong and eyes clear. Simplon nudged Riflet aside.

  Ya-Wyn, Himself, presides over that chain of islands. Darby paused to scratch himself.

  So, Byssop added, Troubles dispersed. Wounds, whether of mind or body, healed.

  “That sounds very like the stories Spider tells.” Kyam rubbed Castoff’s ear. “We met him several times on our travels.”

  “I am eager to meet him. Perhaps his stories will inspire pictures.”

  Kyam chuckled. “His stories of the Outer Realm spin a fine web—they capture his listeners and urge them to search for their treasure. I have no doubt they would also birth incredible paintings.”

  “Treasure? Gold? Silver? Gems? Diamonds?” Cierra heart skipped like a lamb.

  “Spider says whatever the need, the answer is there.”

  All returned certain of their worth and unshakeable in their allegiance. Hezzor’s antennae quivered. You have found a doorway into this fabled land? And you wish us to enter? When do we leave?

  Cierra dropped down to the stump. “But we have no way to get in. The key and code book are with Lusan.”

  “Trust The Masters to provide key and code. Surely there must be some Watcher in the land who preserved their access.”

  “May it be so.” She turned to Herzor. “How is it that creatures long turned against humans remember so well about the Outer Realm?”

  Hezor cocked his head and scratched with one hind leg. I do not know how the memories are so clear. His antenna twitched. Perhaps The Masters’ water made it so.

  “Yet another blessing of the river.” Cierra held up one finger. “Do not the sacred writings speak of being reminded by Ya-Wyn of the past truths told?”

  “Excellent point.” Kyam put both hands on Hezzor’s shoulders. “It is decided. You will travel with us until we reach a river access and have discovered key and code. Then you will go in search of The Masters’ Empire. In the meantime, I spotted an above ground river that is our next goal.” His hand signaled ‘forward.’ “To Lipfar and The Masters’ service.”

  “To Lipfar!” they chorused. Castoff barked.

  And as we travel, perhaps the story of this underground river? Riflit gamboled at Kyam’s side.

  “It is an astonishing pathway that runs beneath the ground. We found it while escaping...”

  Chapter 7

  An hour after leaving the resre, Kyam crested a hill and stared. As abruptly as it had begun, the deforestation stopped. Ahead, an abundance of trees in many varieties stood tall and straight. He breathed deeply—the place smelled of pine and peace.

  Before him, a path wandered toward the sound of rushing water. After Castoff and Simplon both agreed it was safe to proceed, Kyam led the way. When they came within ten scentons of the river, the bank was as pristine as a well-tended garden—clear of brush and weeds. They could see clearly up and down the river’s path until it curved out of sight.

  The river water swirled, its pace hurried and tumbling, too rapid to cross. No bridge in sight. Hezzor tossed a stick into the flow. It spun, hit something hidden beneath the surface, shot into the air, flipped, and disappeared around a bend. It’s what is not seen that offers the greatest danger.

  Simplon rested his front paws on Kyam’s shoulders, ‘I’m a strong swimmer. I’ll make the crossing if you desire it.’

  Kyam shook his head, “No. I thank you for your courageous offer, but until we’ve explored all other plans, we’ll not risk lives.” He turned to Cierra. “Have you any idea which river this is?”

  Cierra groaned, “I was a lamentable geography scholar. How embarrassing to know so little of my own country. If I were Watcher I would require every citizen to draw an accurate map from memory before being allowed to leave the classroom.”

  Hezzor touched head stems to her curls while keeping one leg against Kyam’s. It’s expected of our young by the fourth hunt lest they find themselves trapped.

  “Ah, that’s the difference, then — you train your young to think and survive. My people no longer consider the possibility of danger and see no need to train for it.
”

  Kyam humphed. And what a mess that has made for them. Soft. pampered. Defenseless. It becomes clearer with every day why The Masters had sent him to Capular. Almost as important a reason as finding his beloved.

  Then what is the purpose of your schools? Hezzor rubbed his antennae together.

  A very good question, indeed.

  Cierra tugged on a stray curl. He knew what that meant: her thoughts were heading in an uncomfortable direction and she was stalling, trying to come up with a more palatable answer.

  “Um, well we memorize a lot.”

  ‘Memorize what?’

  She poked a stone with her toe. “What the teachers say.”

  They are the wisest, best? Their lives and choices prove them to be trustworthy of such power?

  Excellent insight, Hezzor, and straight to the heart of the problem. Keep pressing. Help her to understand.

  “Power?” Cierra blinked several times.

  He could imagine all the busy to-ing and fro-ing in her mind as she considered the implications of Hezzor’s question.

  If your young are not taught to think, to question, then all they have is their teacher’s word for truth. How easily led astray they will be by a leader with a crooked heart.

  She bowed her head, looking at Hezzor through a curtain of curls. “And so has it happened.” Sorrow drew lines on her face. “We provided the fertile soil to grow our own demise.”

  Time to redirect her attention. “Danger, not demise. Which way shall we go? Upstream? Or down? “

  He watched Cierra study both directions. Her body swiveled to the right more frequently than left.

  “We agree, Mela. I, too, am pulled upstream. We will trust our instincts.”

  “Instincts." Cierra jammed fisted hands against her hips. "All I have to depend on since skills and knowledge were neglected.”

  Kyam hugged her. “Instincts and a heart to hear The Masters’ voice may yet win the battle. Come. Let’s see what lies ahead.”

  In less than a melar, they found a bridge—a sturdy affair with braces, trusses, and stalwart beams. The river had no more impact than a fretful toddler on a granite statue. It fussed and swirled at the bridge’s base never reaching higher than the lower third of its stone pilings. The bridge remained unmoved.