Raven's Warrior (11 page)
The smell of death cut through the darkness as they passed near the forgotten carcass of man or beast. She was glad the darkness hid the view, and that the rags that silenced the sound of children also kept them safe from the stench of war's true horrors. Their party moved as one, spread out upon the killing field like the great mythical serpent. They undulated away from the clanging of steel and the cries of the embattled, until to the ear it sounded merely like the distant drone of children playing.
The leading sentry pawed the snow covered ground frantically. For a time brief by normal standard but an eternity by theirs, he searched. He reminded her of the hungry wolves that dig for a dead elk buried beneath winter's white blanket. He held his panic in check until at last he was rewarded. He pulled away the canvas cover to reveal the opening of the well-placed tunnel, and into its cold blackness they descended.
They moved as the blind move, an outstretched hand on frozen wall, silent and with only one directionâforward. Under the enemy camps they pressed on, moving quietly but for the occasional stumble. Finally they reached the hidden exit near the forest's promised safety and emerged from their underground corridor under the watchful eye of their armored guardian. She drank the cold fresh air like a baby fresh from the womb, and even in the thick darkness she saw their protector was not much more than a child himself. The noise of the distant fray was carried softly to them upon the night winds.
She held her children close, one by hand and one at breast, and looked with gratitude to their young protector. No cry escaped his lips as she saw the sword emerge from his chest. She saw his pain upon his face, and knew his silence was his last heroic act. As he fell where he was struck, she released her hold on the small hand and made distance. With a brief struggle the imperial soldier had freed his saber and now rushed to cleave her lone-standing son. From behind, her blade was drawn across the enemy's throat, and if he could have screamed he would have, but he fell in silence as the white snow pooled black within the darkness.
She helped the others move to the safety of the forest, and only after many miles did they rest and recoup their strength. No man should come between a bear and her cubs. By dawn's light she looked down at her hands stained red with blood, and in the growing light she remembered they wore this gown after both her children were birthed. She thought with love about the one who led them, her husband and the father of her sons. His sacrifice would not be in vain, he would be remembered by his children and his people. It would be woven into song and story for all to know and for generations to recall.
But for now she pulled her rough wool scarf up around her face, to keep her from the cold and to hide her freezing tears. She gathered up their people and with her as their protector, they moved on.
The first major strike came the following evening. The catapults were positioned and the targets picked. Fire bolts the lengths of two men were launched systematically, accurately, and in seemingly endless array. The urine and grey water miserly collected for four months could not extinguish all the fires, and so it was that the main granary went upward as flame. While the imperial forces watched and cheered this, their first spectacle of war, fully half of the children and women had been lowered over the great walls, and spirited through darkness of tunnel under enemy lines and to the safety and freedom of the protective woodlands.
In morning's light the full extent of the damage could be seen, and its seriousness was written in the smoke and embers that hovered in the icy air. Over half of their stockpiled food had been destroyed and the charred bodies of human and livestock alike lay strewn upon the alleys, squares, and streets.
The young leader organized the burial detail amid the wailing and weeping of the wounded and the grieving. For the next four nights, by the sliver of the new moon, his men would by rope descend the walls. In the darkened pitch with arrow, spear, and sword, they launched a noble plan of harass and divert, while giving the innocents the precious time needed to flee.
At week's end food was strictly rationed. The civilian population had escaped and continued to move onward seeking the safety of distance. A mere three thousand men were left to stand their ground within the walls. They faced two enemies. The first was the tangible weapons of wood and metal. The second hung in air like a ghost, the specter of starvation. It haunted the city fortress from the rising smoke that danced with the gathering of the crows.
In the imperial camp the commander's elation had begun its bitter fermentation as he realized that the sounds of civilian life no longer came from inside the rebel city. He understood now that the dark night skirmishes had been a ruse, and in fact a most successful one. When all the tunnels were destroyed, he would turn his hatred and animosity fully on those still living within the fortress walls.
When the night forays came no more, the commander sent a full brigade against the southern wall with siege ladders and grappling hooks. They were slowed by the concealed pits dug months prior, and the ladders offered no protection from the maelstrom of arrows launched upon the impeded forces. In all, on that one day, one hundred and sixty three men died and forty-four were seriously wounded, all imperial troops.
Drunk with anger, the commander, twice more, on different walls and different times, tried again and obtained almost exactly the same results. A night raid launched by his cavalry was also disastrous. The field was well mined, and in light of early morning, seven lame and abandoned horses were coaxed through the soundly protected gate. The rebels ate well that night.
Finally he accepted that although siege by attrition was far less glorious than direct confrontation, it was in fact the correct strategy. He would stand down and allow nature to take its course, very much like he had allowed gravity to carry the boulder to its target at the shadowed cavern entrance. Famine would be their just retribution, and their death would come at his command. He did not realize that he had underestimated both the tenacity of the rebels, and the sovereignty of Death, and that his forces would remain entrenched here for the next eleven months.
At night, sated and besotted with drink and wrapped within the fetid bear hide, he would feel his mangled face and long for his return to the capital and his next chance to hunt down and kill a monk and all who are close to him.
With the coming of each new day, I felt much better. I ate breakfast with Merlin and the Sea Lass and watched him dress warmly for his work upon the land. I continued to stay with his daughter and help her within the house. With Merlin gone, her home routine was patiently attended until at last we were free to tend to the outside duties. With the closing of the large wooden door, the sun and breeze welcomed us into the open.
She smiled proudly when she saw me crouched and watching the nest of ants along our path. “What is the forecast?” she inquired, and nodded her approval when I answered, “Sunny and bright here, distant storm moving closer.” Together we filled two wicker baskets with mulberry leaves and carried them to a shed some distance from the main house.
I was not prepared for the sight that greeted me as she lit the shed lamps and emptied the leaves into round woven lids. I saw the pulsing of the worms, they looked like the maggots that feed upon the dead, and I recoiled in horror. Her laughter calmed me, and she quickly said, “Don't worry, Vincent, these worms work for us.”
The sound of a heavy summer downpour somehow filled the room. I forced myself to look once more to the lids and she continued, “Listen to them eat, when they are full and ripe, they will spin themselves a sleeping place with threads of splendor, comfort, and protection. I will boil them, unwind them, and color them, and from these I will make you the clothing of kings.” I knew that for the Sea Lass even this wondrous intention held no trace of witchcraft or magic, but was quite ordinary within this world. But for me, it was still bound by the threads of mystery.
My repulsion faded as we closed the door behind us and walked on across the vast and open beauty of the land. We followed the river, where she stopped to peer quietly into the clear calm pools along its edge. Her hands darted in scooping out a speckled fish that now thrashed upon the dry land. A few more steps brought another, and then a third, cleaned and deftly tied with reeds through gills and handed to me for carrying.
Eventually we approached a large tree that stood majestic and alone in an open field, and we made our way in its direction. It towered against the clear blue sky and pulled at me steadily. I turned to the Sea Lass and heard my own voice rich with excitement, “I know this tree,” I exclaimed, and sprinted toward it.
With eyes closed I pressed my body against its dry rough bark and embraced it like a long lost friend. I deeply inhaled its spring musk and, in turn, it took me back in memory to the land of my people. I backed away with head cranked up looking at its great height, still leafless, adorned only by the green brown buds getting ready to burst forth. A raven flew down from the highest boughs, and Sea Lass lovingly fed it scraps from yesterday's evening meal.
“To my people this tree is both guardian and gateway,” I told her, as the large black bird raised its beak and dropped another morsel down its gullet. I should not have been surprised that its leather cupped seeds had reached as far as this distant land. “In my language it is called oak.” My refreshed memories had loosened my tongue, and I told her of the Norse Landers whose people also held the great oaks sacred.
Sea Lass listened to my words like a child in school, “Their warrior god was named Thor. During a great storm Thor sought shelter beneath a huge oak tree, and it was here that he was made immortal. He was given the power of lightning and thunder, a power he took into battle as he wielded his massive steel war hammer.” Spellbound she stopped feeding the greedy bird that bounced happily beside her.
Sea Lass pointed to the tree, concentrated, and said, “ark.” “Oak,” I responded, “ark,” she repeated. Over and over, although in fact her pronunciation improved very little, I smiled and nodded to reassure her. Making a hammering motion she questioned, “Thar?” “Thor,” I corrected. This word's lesson went on much the same way, but for considerably more time and with much the same result. “Thar,” she mimicked.
As a teacher I accepted my limitations and was content that I had tried my best. I did not care that her pronunciation was stilted, and I rested in the pleasure that she had tried so hard to wrap her tongue around the words of my world.
Suddenly a sound that seemed from another world pierced the quietness. Clearly and loudly, through the heavy black beak of the contented raven came the eerie and unearthly squawk, “Arkthar.”
I was shocked by a bird that speaks, and Sea Lass laughed loudly at her pet's contribution to her language lesson. We both turned quickly as Merlin's voice rang out from behind us, “He thinks to name you Arkthar.” The monk saw the bright colors of the fish, and chuckled to himself at the appropriate meal choice.
In the midday shadow of the great oak tree, we cooked and ate fish and rice cakes, so delicious that I licked the last flavors from my greasy fingers. After lunch Merlin stood directly from his cross-legged position. “So the god of your enemies is the lightning bearer,” he said. “Like you, he has transformed with time and distance. From north to south and from east to west, the wielder of lightning has known many incarnations.
We owe much to a foreign monk that brought us his ways of combat and religion. When the time is right, I will show you form and symbol, and you will study the meditation and movement of the fist he called vajra.”
Much of what the monk had spoken had no meaning for me. Graciously Mah Lin did not press it but let me digest peacefully until at last he spoke again. “Vincent, your wounds are many, some to your flesh and some to your spirit.” We three walked farther along the river until we came to a high waterfall, where following Merlin's bidding and example I stripped to loincloth.
Together we stood in the flowing curtain of cold spring water, while the Sea Lass sat on the short new grass and watched. Merlin shouted to me above the river's roar, “Let the blood of your past be washed from your soul.” He drew breath, “Let your new body grow strong.” In a short time I could take no more. Merlin, in contrast, looked comfortable as I stumbled from the rushing torrent. Sea Lass dried and warmed me by rubbing my rough clothing against my blue-white skin.
I looked back to the monk, who had vanished as though he had never been.
Sea Lass and I walked together back to our dwelling place. I did not talk about a monk that could evaporate like a mist. Instead I asked, “Do all the animals of this strange land have the power to speak?” To that she smiled and replied, “They do, but in their own language.” The sunshine of the afternoon had begun to be replaced by dark grey cloud cover. As we passed the great tree, a solitary lightning bolt flashed across the distant sky. The raven saw the far-off brightness from its high vantage. Looking up, it spread wing, and took flight.
Between heaven and earth it spoke for the sacred oak, to all the creatures of its great kingdom that could hear, as once again it looked down and screamed the name, “Arkthar.”
As Sea Lass and I approached our home, I felt like one carried upon winds of magic. This was surely a place of wonder and beauty. It had once been an ancient temple, and kept from that time the mantle and energy of grounds long consecrated. It held the harmonious power of great tranquility. From communal worship, its robe of peace had descended to envelop even us few who now lived under its protective roof. Its power had even given voice to the croak of the black feathered bird, and I wondered what other wonders it would share with me.