The Third Scroll (34 page)

We crept in the cover of bushes toward the water, to the boats that lay like great dead fish on the shore. But when we reached closer, we found the boats well-guarded and the men watching them alert.

Shivering, we crept back in the other direction and down to the water’s edge until we found a large log wedged into the mud. I waded into the river, Leena close behind me. My feet went numb in the icy water long before we managed to push the log into the water.

We did not let go of it but went along, submerging our trembling bodies. With our heads hidden behind the log, we floated down the river to find the palace of Mernor, and in it, Batumar. Or die in the trying.

My wet gown pulled me down, but I hung on with all my strength. I did not dare even to whisper to Leena, as the water would have carried my voice well and far.

I could barely feel my limbs by the time we floated out of sight of the island. I tried to angle us toward the bank, but we floated downriver for some time, as the current was strong and the log not easily directed.

The first light of morning dawned on the horizon by the time we finally reached land. We pushed the log back into the water, then sought refuge in the thick forest ahead. Shivering, we lay on the cold ground, holding on to each other for warmth, too exhausted to rise.

But we did not dare to stay long or to start a fire. When we were able, we stumbled deeper into the woods, feeding on the succulent leaves of lenil bushes we passed. What we did not eat, we saved, as we did not know when we might have food again.

The wind picked up and swayed the giant trees above, but low to the ground the bushes protected us. Still, even the fraction of the full wind proved enough to chill us further. My sunborn body shivered without stop; my skin stung with pain. Leena seemed to carry on better, having been snowborn. She had lived through a lifetime of frigid winters.

We did not find anything else to eat, although we saw many strange plants and birds and tracks of other smaller animals. A lot of the trees and bushes had thorns, some I suspected poisonous, so we forged ahead with great care.

In a valley, we came upon an abandoned tar pit, the smell turning my stomach.
“Boil her in tar
.
”
I heard the cries again for a moment as I remembered the boiling cauldron in the alley. I told Leena about Shartor and his mob. She prayed loudly to the goddesses to burn off his braided beard and other parts that stuck out from his body.

We walked that whole day and into the night but never saw the end of the forest. I told Leena some stories about my childhood and my mother. In turn, she told me how she had been a powerful warlord’s favorite concubine but gave up all the luxuries of his Pleasure Hall and became a servant to save her son’s life.

When we could walk no more, I made a nest of branches and leaves high up in a tree. No thorns had this, but giant leaves that covered us from any prying eyes below. We fell into an exhausted sleep, huddled together for warmth.

Not until midmorning did we wake and then started out at once, continuing our journey. Soon we reached the end of the woods and, guided by the smell of smoke, came upon some overgrown fields and the ruins of a small village.

The handful of wattle-and-daub huts were scorched, and we saw the remains of many others that had been burned to the ground. Weeds grew tall around the huts, and I knew they had no grazing animals or enough people to trample down the grass. The forest was slowly reclaiming the village.

Would this be the fate of my people once our lands had been conquered by the Kerghi?

We walked into the dying community, hoping for food and shelter, the warmth of their fires. But they seemed in worse shape than we were. No men, only women and children—little girls, not a boy among them. They looked at us with such hunger in their eyes, had we any lenil leaves we would have given it to them, but we had eaten them all before starting out that morning and had found nothing edible that whole day since.

They spoke a language I barely understood, similar to Tinfa, and some time passed before I could explain we were looking for the way to Mernor.

“We do not know, Mistress,” said one, her gaze roaming my gown. She wore thin strips of animal hide, her ribs visible under her bruised skin. “But there is one among us who might. She is hunting. You must wait for her return.”

Behind her stood two little girls, thin and dirty, their eyes fearful and wild at the same time, like that of small forest animals. None of the children talked or played, as we would have seen had we walked into a Shahala village. These all hid behind their mothers.

The air was silent, missing their voices and the noises of household beasts, the sounds of work—clanging of metal, and axe falling onto wood, and the other little things that made up the music of the usual village.

The huts must have been empty, all the people outside to greet us. I looked at their wounds, bones that had been broken and had not healed well, some infected cuts on the arms and legs, some other small things that even though they did not threaten a person’s life, gave pain enough to make it miserable.

“We shall wait.” We could wait awhile for the one who knew the way. I could do some healing in the meanwhile.

And then another woman, her lips covered in festering sores so I could barely understand her when she spoke, said, “Come rest in our hut, Mistress. The fire burns warmer inside.”

I looked at the low flames of the cooking fire between two huts. Nothing cooked today, but they had food at one time, for I saw blackened bones stick out from the ashes.

Most had been cracked for their marrow and were hard to recognize, but some smaller ones stuck together still, held by charred sinew. A narrow paw of some sort drew my eyes. It had five fingers, half of one missing. No, not missing, just shorter than the rest. And when I looked closer, my stomach rolled.
A human hand.

“Thank you,” I said to the women, who watched sharply as they moved into a half circle around us. “We will share your hut, but let us go into the woods and gather some food first. I am a healer and know many plants that would help your wounds and others that are good to eat.”

I stepped back, and Leena followed, although I could tell she did not understand why we were leaving when we were cold and we had not seen anything edible for a long time before reaching the village.

The women hesitated.

“I will come with you,” said the one with the sore-infested lips. “So after you leave, we might find those plants ourselves.”

And for the first time, I noticed the blade hanging from her rope belt, half-hidden among the animal skins that covered her. I could do nothing else but nod.

We walked for some time in the opposite direction Leena and I had come from but found all edible plants already harvested. I collected a few healing herbs along the way, explaining their use to the woman. She kept looking back as we went, and I wondered if others followed at a distance.

They probably were, although she could have killed the both of us alone, for she had the thin strength of those who worked too hard to keep on living. Leena was old and tired from our journey, and although I was younger, I had no knowledge of fighting. And too the woman had a knife.

The spirits stayed with us, for they led us to a garon tree.

I rolled up my dress and tied it with a piece of vine, then began to climb until I reached the spot from where the branches spread. In that bend, in a handful of dirt blown there by the winds, I found what I was looking for, the woodsy stalks of the caringo, full of yellow berries. I tugged the whole plant away from the tree and climbed down.

“We should take this back to share with the others. Not much, but it tastes sweet.” I handed the berry-filled branches to the woman.

I knew the caringo from my mother, for she had given tea steeped from the berries for pain of certain illnesses. One or two berries worked wonders; any more than that put a person to sleep. I hoped the woman was hungry enough that she could not resist, but dared not offer it to her myself as I feared it might raise her suspicion, and she would demand that Leena and I eat of the berries.

We walked on, and I did not look back at her once, not wanting her to think I was watching for something. But soon her footsteps faded behind us, and then I could no longer hear them at all.

“Let us keep on walking,” I said to Leena, and we did not go back to see what had become of the woman. I did not heal her lips as I could have, for it seemed they might have been cursed by the spirits for her feasting on human flesh, and I dared not interfere with their judgment.

I did not condemn her, though, not her or her people. They lived in a stark despair I had never known. Would Dahru fall, my own people could find themselves devastated. I shuddered as an image of sacked Shahala villages flashed into my mind. I prayed to the spirits to keep us from such a fate and doubled my resolve to do what I could to defeat the Kerghi.

We walked the rest of the day without stopping to rest as I told Leena about the bones in the cooking fire and my suspicions about what the women were planning to do with us. She shuddered at my words and praised me for my wisdom. We crossed through the forest as fast as we could, careful not to leave tracks behind.

As the day wore on, the woods became denser and denser, giant trees blocking out most of the light from above. Leafy vines wove intricate patterns on the tree trunks as they snaked upward, spreading out to connect tree to tree. We kept west by the sun, what little we could see of it, not because we knew that to be the right direction but because we thought going straight whichever way would at least keep us from wandering around in circles.

We had not had any water since we had left the river, save what dew we had been able to lick off leaves here and there, so when we heard a creek beckon from the distance, we hastened our steps.

Not much later, we came upon a faint path. We followed it carefully, not knowing whether it had been made by animals or humans, not knowing, indeed, which to fear more. But we reached the water without coming to harm and slaked our thirst. Water had never tasted as sweet, or if it had, I could not remember it.

And the creek held another blessing. In the wet mud of its banks grew many plants I recognized. Soon we were on our knees digging for bulbs and rhizomes to sate our hunger. We dug up all we could find before we left, carrying our treasure tied into a small bundle I made from a piece of my dress.

We took off our shoes and lifted our dresses to cross the creek, and since darkness approached, we decided to stay on the path that continued on the other side. We walked easier on the path, without prickly weeds and low bushes snagging our clothes at each step.

Leena, having gained some strength from the food and drink, walked ahead of me, while I lagged a few steps behind as I scanned every green thing. More food to carry with us would have been most welcome and any healing herbs too, for we’d both lost some strength since our arrival.

I saw the patch of leaves on the path in front of us, not much different than the rest that littered the ground, and yet my gaze snapped back to the spot. Maybe a familiar shape drew my eye. No, I had not seen leaves purple like that before.

I slowed. Unmindful, Leena walked on, almost at the edge of the patch now. In that one spot, the leaves seemed not as faded, not as trampled as the rest. The skin prickled at the back of my neck.

“Leena, stop!”

Too late. With a shrill cry like a bird taking to the sky, she flew high up into the air to swing among the branches.

For the briefest of moments, I thought it the magic of the ancient days or the trickery of bad spirits, but then I could see the net that kept her above my reach.

A length of twisted vine held the net, and I traced the vine to a tree half-covered by the dense brush.

“Run, my Lady,” she implored from above. “They who caught me will catch you as well if you stay.”

I tore at the knots with my fingers to no avail. The moss-covered stones at my feet had no sharp edges. I smashed two together until a chunk broke off, then attacked the vine rope.

Even with the sharp edge of the stone, the sawing required time, and my knuckles bloodied from scraping against the rough bark of the tree. But finally I thinned the vine to its last fibers and yanked it hard while holding on tight. I did not want to drop Leena from such a height.

“Brace,” I called up, keeping my voice as low as I could, for we did not know how close the hunters who set the trap waited.

~~~***~~~

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

(Mernor)

I lowered Leena to the ground and freed her. I held out my hand for her, but even with my help, she could barely stand. She leaned on me as we hurried off the path at once, into the woods. We moved silently and did not stop until Leena seemed ready to collapse.

“My foot tangled in the net as it pulled me up,” she told me at last, sliding to the ground.

I sat next to her to look at her ankle. The woods were quiet around us and peaceful. I thought we might be safe for the moment.

I probed the swollen purple flesh but could feel nothing broken. “Bruised.” I put my hand upon the injury, but Leena pulled back at once.

“No,” she said. “You will weaken yourself.”

“I can help.” I reached again.

“The High Lord forbade it.” She grabbed my hand, her gaze determined. “I forbid it,” she said, issuing an order for the first time since I had known her.

She
was
the High Lord’s mother. She would have had a seat at the high table at the feasts and a powerful position in the palace if she had revealed her identity. Her station was equal to that of the favorite concubine.

“As you wish, Lady Leena.” The Shahala did not heal against a person’s will. The choice, even between life and death, stayed always with the sick.

“Your herbs?” She eyed my belt.

I glanced at the few stalks that hung from the rough belt I had braided from some soft tall grasses as we had walked. “We need kukuyu pulp bound around your ankle with cold wet cloth. We have neither. Shall we stay awhile?”