The Boy who Lit up the Sky (The Two Moons of Rehnor, Book 1) Page 13

The boy stood as the spaceplane turned aloft and headed into the sky. A moment later it disappeared, yet the boy remained unmoved.

  “What is he watching?” my brother asked, staring at the sky.

  “He doesn't watch,” I replied. “The Mishak said he does not see.”

  My brother nodded and looked around the valley.

  “What are you looking at?” I asked.

  “I don't know.” Pedah shrugged, yet his eyes continued to roam the hills and steppes before finally settling on the village.

  “He controls your eyes!”

  “Does he?” Pedah laughed. “Is that why I am staring at Diridan's young daughter?”

  “Must be,” I said. “She is very fair but far too young for you. Come on.” I grabbed his arm, and we moved across the meadow to the boy.

  He turned as we neared and appeared to gaze upon us with his silver eyes. He looked like our brother Sorkan although with pale skin and the Mishnese Princess’s eyes. He was young, younger than I imagined, and I reminded myself he was not yet thirteen years.

  “Welcome, MaKennah,” I said and then it was as if a warm fog settled in upon my mind for just a moment. My brother punched my arm and wakened me.

  “Listen MaKennah,” my brother said and bent down to the boy's face. “You do not use these powers on us. You want to know something, you ask. You want to see something, we describe for you.”

  The boy did not respond. His eyes flickered in Pedah's face.

  “He doesn't speak Karupta,” I reminded my brother. “Shall I tell him in Mishnese?”

  “He understands,” Pedah replied. “Come on, our father is waiting.” My brother started walking toward the village.

  “How do you know?” I called after him but then looked over at the MaKennah. The boy's eyes were flickering at me now. To me he looked tired. He was very pale as if he was ill.

  “You need to rest,” I told him in Mishnese. “Come change your clothing and meet our father and then you will lie down the rest of the day. You will come to pray with us tonight.”

  The boy made no acknowledgment that he understood me but instead, turned his face to the wind which was warm this day and carried the scent of new leaves and grass. A hawk screamed and circled in the sky high above our heads. This made the boy smile. He would like our valley and this, his new home.

  “Come MaKennah,” I said and moved to take his arm to guide him down the steppes. He cringed from my touch, so I let him be and headed alone after my brother. The boy followed me keeping his distance. “You will live in my house with my family,” I called back to him over my shoulder. “My wife is Garinka and we have a new son named Rekah. He is one year old and very clever. My brother Pedah will be your teacher. He teaches all the boys in the village. My father will teach you as well.”

  I glanced back at the boy. He moved well for not having sight. I wondered if the Mishaks were wrong about this.

  “Your mind speaks to me even if you do not wish it so,” the boy spoke in the Noble Mishnese.

  “And this is how you see where to go?”

  The boy nodded.

  “What do you do when you are alone?”

  “I remember from when I have come before.”

  “And if you have never gone somewhere before?”

  The boy shrugged.

  We had reached the main road of the village. Our people were in the street watching us. It was strange how silent they were. I spied Diridan's daughter and her friends huddled in a circle. I watched them as they stared at the MaKennah and whispered behind their hands then I tore my eyes from them and saw that the MaKennah's pale face had turned pink. This was unnerving to me, this ability to guide my eyes and decide upon that which I would look. I resolved to speak again to my brother and perhaps our father about this.

  Pedah was with my wife in front of my house. Garinka stepped back as we came to the door, a worried look upon her face. She did not wish for the MaKennah to live with us. Like many in our village, in Karupatani, she feared his presence. We knew how the Mishaks had tried to kill him yet we did not know the reasons why they would want to do so. There were some who thought perhaps he was evil or possessed of a wayward spirit. There were others that did not want him amongst us simply because he shared Mishnese blood. My father overruled his council and declared the boy would come to us and reside in my home and become brother to my son.

  “They say he has killed Mishaks,” my wife had cried. “He has evil ways and strange powers. How can you allow him to be in the presence of your own infant boy?”

  “How do you know all this? Do you watch the talking Mishak heads on the vid when I am not present? Still you must waste your time and attention on the trash that comes upon that screen. Have you not women in this village you can befriend and chat with instead? Have you not enough tasks to keep you busy such as tending your baby and cleaning this house? Surely there are new skills you may learn instead of listening to that nonsense.”

  “I am only trying to protect my baby!” she wept. “And what if I watch the vid and see how the Mishaks live? Do you not think I should like to live in a real house with electricity and plumbing and drive a speeder and shop for goods? I am a Princess of Karupatani, and I must toil like a slave! At least I may watch the vid and dream of another place. Perhaps I may even be so fortunate to live there in my next life!”

  She slammed the door, and I joined my brother at his solitary table for dinner that night.

  “Your room is upstairs,” I said to the MaKennah, leading him past my wife’s sour face and up to the small bedroom we had built for him. Lying upon the bed were leggings, tunics, belts, and shoes that Garinka and the village women had sewn.

  “You must change your clothing,” I told him. “You must dress like a Karupta now.”

  The boy removed his sash, and I took it and handed it to Garinka who now hovered near the door, Rekah propped upon her hip. She had never felt a silk so fine as this though I recalled such a luxury from when my brother had married the Mishnese Princess, and I had touched and stroked the fine silks and gold that adorned his costume.

  Garinka held the silk to her cheek and turned away from me so I would not see the pleasure upon her face. Rekah too put his tiny hand upon it.

  “Mine,” he said.

  “No, not yours,” I corrected.

  “Might I keep it?” Garinka whispered, though her back was still to me.

  “If it be the MaKennah’s will,” I replied and turned toward the boy to ask this of him when I was struck dumb. He had taken off his shirt and was putting on the tunic but before he was covered I saw what the Mishaks had done to him. He had long scars from bullet wounds and welts from having been beaten. Garinka saw this too and her face went pale. She reached for my arm and pulled me outside the door.

  “See you now! It is as I have said. Why would they have done that to a child unless he is evil? I do not want him in my house. I do not want him near my baby.” Great tears appeared in my wife’s eyes, and Rekah looked upon her face with alarm.

  “He is not evil,” I said sternly. “And this is my house.”

  “How do you know what he is? You have never seen him before this day!”

  “Keep your voice down,” I snapped. “He can hear you.”

  “He doesn't speak Karupta, you said so yourself.” Her eyes turned behind me to the boy who stood in the doorway, his silver eyes flickering upon us.

  “You are welcome here, MaKennah.” I glared at my wife until she bowed her head. “Come now, let us take you before my father.”

  My father studied the MaKennah for a very long time as the boy made obeisance before him. My brother and I shifted about on our feet though the boy did not move. It was only after many moments had passed and my father and the boy still remained frozen that my brother finally spoke.

  "Father? What do you watch for such a long time?"

  "Ay yah," my father said waving
his hand about the boy's head. He paused his hand as if catching the air and then studied it as if something lay therein.

  I glanced at my brother. I saw nothing but my father's empty palm. My brother winked at me.

  "You do not see?" My father turned to the both of us, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

  We shook our heads. My brother smiled. We thought our father was imagining things.

  "Arise, child," my father said.

  The boy sat back on his haunches and narrowed his eyes so that only a small sliver of silver light shone through. My father reached to touch the boy's face, but the boy shirked away.

  “He does not like to be touched,” I said.

  My father nodded and spoke to him. "You know what I see." The boy opened his eyes wider and a beam of silver light shone upon my father’s face. "It is a wondrous thing. We are blessed beyond measure. We will care for you and heal you so you will grow and become that which you have been sent here to be. Tuman, take him home and put him to bed. He is not well. Go now. I must go to the Temple and pray on this."

  "On what?" I asked.

  My father looks at his empty hands and smiled. "This miracle."

  My brother rolled his eyes.

  The boy stayed in his room at my house for more than a week. The doctor had brought him strengthening herbs and Garinka made him soups and soon the color came back to his cheeks and the light shone from his eyes much brighter than before. In this week, he learned to speak Karupta, answering us in our own language when we spoke to him although his words were few. At the end of the second week, my father declared that the MaKennah would come to pray with us, and we would bleed him.

  “Have we not been waiting for him to recover so now we must injure him again like the Mishaks?” I asked.

  “We will take only a little,” my father replied. “We do not injure him, we honor him. He knows this. When he is an adult, you will need to do this often.” He looked pointedly at my brother and I as if to remind us that he would not live forever. “He will be very powerful when he is fully grown. He will be a danger to himself and to Rehnor. There will be times when you must weaken him.”

  “You make no sense, Father,” Pedah said. “First you tell us he is a miracle sent to us to save Rehnor, and now you tell us he will destroy it?”

  My father shook his head sending his long grey plaits and beard trembling. “I am not privy to the secrets of the future. I only tell you that which Karukan has written. The MaKennah knows about this. He understands what he must do and why."

  "And how do you know that?" my brother scoffed. "Has he been more generous with his words to you?"

  My father smiled. "It is all in the book.”

  My brother rolled his eyes again.

  That night during our worship, the MaKennah joined us, and we did hold the first of our bleeding ceremonies. I cannot say that he was surprised by it. Perhaps my father was correct in that he did know what was to happen. He knelt before us with resignation, a frown upon his face. The Mishaks had done much to hurt him, and I feared he thought that we were the same. He waited patiently and impassively as we each tasted his blood, which caused a strange sensation in me. For a moment I felt as if I could do anything I wished. As if I could wave my hands and all would do my bidding. It was only for a moment, but my brother told me he felt the same way. How curious it would be to feel like this all the time.

  The MaKennah joined the other boys of our village in their lessons shortly after that. He was taught the skills of fighting with light swords, the one weapon our people had retained from our ancient days of glory when Karukan still walked this land. Our chiefs held on to the secret knowledge of creating a laser that could be swung about at will, turning whatever it touched to dust. The Mishaks had this weapon too, but ours were far superior in strength and were lighter to carry and thus even our youngest men could fight.

  My brother and I had decided against teaching the MaKennah sword fighting. Without sight, he might swing the weapon erratically and cause irreparable damage or death. Our father overruled us, and himself placed the light sword in the boy’s hand, bidding him to swing and strike the one held in my own.

  The MaKennah studied the instrument for a moment, switching the hilt to his left hand and hefting it about, turning it off and on. Then without warning, he struck at my weapon knocking it loose from my hand whereupon it fell to the ground and turned itself off.

  My brother laughed. “Even a blind boy can best you, Tuman,” he declared.

  “Your turn then,” I replied, retrieving my sword from the ground and tossing it to him. He turned it on and parried with the boy once, twice, and then, the weapon was again on the ground. “How can you do this?” I cried. “You cannot see where the blade goes.”

  The boy shrugged. “It vibrates,” he said. “And each sword has a unique tone. Sight is overrated.” He handed his own back to me and walked away.

  As with all our boys, the MaKennah was taken to the pasture land and told to select a horse. His choice was a wild black colt which he named Tirikla. The name meant “crazy”. It was an appropriate name as the colt was considered by most to be unmanageable, but he calmed under the MaKennah's touch, and the two of them became inseparable.

  Seasons changed and yet the young men in our village were still wary of the MaKennah. Though they shared lessons, they kept their distance from him, and he was excluded from all of their other activities. This bothered my father a great deal as he felt strongly that although we were princes, we must still have the friendship of our men. It seemed not to bother the MaKennah at all. He did not seem distressed by his solitude, but kept to himself and often disappeared for long periods of time in the forest. He craved no companionship other than Rekah who upon learning to walk, followed the MaKennah incessantly.

  The girls, on the other hand, professed great interest in the MaKennah and would have followed him incessantly too if they could have. Packs of them would surround him at any given moment and often I would catch him tearing into the house, slamming the door and holding it shut despite the pounding and calls of the young ladies outside.

  “Perhaps this is why the boys don't like him,” Pedah mused with a smirk on his lips. “He has stolen all their lovers.”

  “Never the less,” my father said. “He must learn to get along with the young men.”

  “I think they fear him,” I said. "They have seen him move things with a wave of his hand or fetch his sword from only air."

  “I think I fear him,” Pedah said.

  “They will not follow him out of fear,” my father insisted. “They must follow him out of love.”

  Unfortunately, they were far from loving him. In fact the only emotion the boys seemed to express was hate. One day in late spring, nearly a year after Sehron came to live with us, I arrived home from my work in the fields to discover the boy sitting at the dinner table, his face and arms a mass of bruises and cuts. Garinka stood quietly at the stove frying pancakes while Rekah sat in his high chair ripping bits of pancake and stuffing them into his mouth.

  “What happened to you?” I asked Sehron. He didn’t respond, just fingered his own pancake.

  “The boys of the village beat him,” Garinka snapped. “Is it not obvious?”

  “Really?” I gasped. “Why would they do that? What did you do?”

  “He did nothing,” my wife replied, slapping the pan on the stove as if in revenge. “He let them hurt him without raising a fist.”

  I studied Sehron who kept his chin down and mouth closed in a frown. “Why?” I said again.

  “Because they are all a bunch of fools,” my wife continued.

  Rekah laughed as if this was funny. He opened his mouth and chortled so we all could see the pancake stuffed therein.

  “Why did you not defend yourself, MaKennah?”

  “Because there were ten of them and only one of him!”

  “Garinka,�
� I snapped. “I should like to hear the words from his own mouth. Is that why, Sehron? Did they all gang up on you?”

  The boy nodded. “But that is not why,” he replied softly.

  “Why then?”

  The boy turned his silver gaze upon my face. “If I responded I would have killed them,” he said steadily. “And they do not deserve to die just because they are stupid now.”

  I stared back at him dumbfounded.

  “Do you think he would have killed them as he said?” I asked my brother the next day.

  Pedah shrugged and put a blade of straw between his teeth. He stared at the clear blue sky and whistled a tune. He had done this since my earliest memory. I called it his thinking tune.

  “Yes,” he said after a time. “Yes I do.”

  “Shall we keep him away from them? Shall we insist he be taught separately?”

  “No,” Pedah replied. “He will not hurt them. He already told you as much. Let us see where this takes us.”

  “But they might hurt him.”

  “No,” my brother shook his head, "a scratch and bruise is nothing to a boy who has been beaten by the wrong end of a horse whip. Leave him be.”

  My father agreed with my brother but suggested that soon we should take all the young boys together on a journey in the forest against the elements. They would learn to rely on each other and hopefully bond.

  Due to the harvest, it was nearly the end of autumn before we had the opportunity to set out on this trip. The early chill of winter was in the air as Pedah, and I and our young men ventured on horseback for the village of Shrotru.

  There were many villages in our country, and often we toured in the summer so our people may see us and give us gifts and my father may listen to their troubles and adjudicate. Once a year all our village leaders came to us for the New Year's celebration. My father had gone alone during the last summer believing that the MaKennah was not ready to tour yet, and he did not want him left alone without myself and Pedah in attendance. Now the weather had turned bitter. It was a good time to teach the boys how to survive in the cold.

  We set out early one morning, the rain pelting us so that we were wet and cold within minutes of our departure. The horses snorted as they stomped along, great gusts of steam coming from their muzzles. As we rose higher in the mountains, the rain turned to snow. Everyone was dressed in thick skins and furs, and the horses each carried ample provisions although we had hoped the boys would hunt. When we reached Shrotru, the village chief would have a celebration dinner, and there would be many young ladies to entertain and warm up our boys.

  For the most part, our first two days were uneventful. Sehron kept to himself at the back of our pack. His skittish horse did not like to be clustered among others much like his master. When we made our camp at night instead of assisting the others in hunting, gathering wood for the fire or helping to cook, Sehron spent inordinate amounts of time brushing down his horse. In fact, when the rest of us settled in to eat, the MaKennah disappeared. After two nights of this, Pedah was angry.

  “Does he think we are nothing but his servants? Is our food not fine enough for a Mishak prince?”

  “I'll speak with him,” I said, and after I had finished my own meal, I went to find the boy. I found him not far from the camp, up in a tree smoking a Mishak cigarette. It was the faint scent of the tobacco that led me there.

  “Can you come down here please, MaKennah?” I asked. “Might I speak with you a moment?”

  He leapt down and landed on his feet, as if leaping twenty feet or more from tree limbs was common for him.

  “Walk with me please,” I said, already stepping further into the forest. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, but the sky was a kaleidoscope of stars overhead. “You do not associate with the other young men. You do not like them?”

  He shrugged and took a long drag on his cigarette.

  “You do not help put the camp together at night and find our dinner. You do not like to do this?”

  Again he shrugged.

  “You do not think it is fitting for a prince to do this work? Pedah and I are princes too, and we also have the blood of Karukan in our veins. You do not see us sit around and wait for our meals to be presented to us.”

  “It's not that,” he said quietly.

  A hawk called overhead, and he turned his face up to it.

  “What is it then?”

  “I do not like to cook.”

  “Oh? And if you did not know how to cook, how would you eat your meat?”

  “I like it better when it is not cooked.”

  The hawk soared in a circle above us and seemed to steal his attention.

  I considered what and how he might eat that which was not cooked. I recalled how many nights he sat at my dinner table, presented with Garinka’s preparations only to toss it about with a fork much to Rekah’s amusement. After a few minutes, I would excuse him from the table as otherwise Rekah would begin to copy this game.

  “He is obviously well nourished and healthy,” my brother had said when I discussed my concern. “Perhaps he just doesn’t like your wife’s cooking. I’m not sure I do either.”

  Now, I thought it was more than just my wife’s cooking the MaKennah did not like.

  “There are other jobs you may do. You can hunt.”

  “I can't,” he said distractedly, his face upturned to the sky.

  “Of course you can, you have been taught.”

  “I only hunt by myself,” he said sharply, turning his silver gaze upon me. “I do not like to hunt in a group.”

  “You are so certain of your skills? Alright, then you can start the fire.”

  “Do you think I need to learn how to start a fire?” he asked calmly.

  “Of course,” I said. “How will you warm yourself if you do not? How will you keep the animals away?”

  His silver eyes flickered across my face, and his expression told me he was annoyed with my ignorance. He held his hand out at the forest and pointed at a tree.

  “Fire?” he asked.

  I shrugged.

  Instantly the tree exploded into flame.

  “Ay yah!” I screamed. “Put that out!”

  A crack of thunder sounded overhead. The stars were immediately obliterated by thick clouds, which began to snow down on us and the burning tree. The tree burned for a moment more and then with a hiss and a sizzle, the flames died out.

  “How did you do that?” I gasped.

  “Can I go now?” He asked impatiently, almost dancing in place.

  “Yes. Of course,” I said, and he was gone in the trees before I could even tell which way he went. I turned my eyes to the sky as the hawk screeched in fear overhead. I watched enormous dark wings snatch the bird from her path and carry her away to devour.

  In our group there were two brothers. The eldest, Pori, was fifteen and an excellent warrior especially for one so young. Being one of the oldest and strongest of our group, he was the natural leader. He rode at the front and ordered the other boys around. His dislike for the MaKennah was obvious. The other boys followed his example and scorned the MaKennah, as well. Pori’s younger brother was Padim, and he was just turned twelve years. Neither my brother nor I wished to bring such a young boy on our journey, but his father, a good friend of ours, insisted with Pori around, no harm would come to Padim.

  It was the fifth day of our journey and we were one day away from arriving in Shrotru. We made camp in a flat area under a knoll of trees. Upon the ground, there lay a few inches of hard snow, but the sky was clear and the weak winter sun glistened in the ice. The boys had split into their usual groups, but now Pedah had called them back together.

  “We will all go together in a hunting party,” he said. “We will bring our Shrotru Chief a stag to feed his people. Whichever one of you slays the stag may keep the antlers.”

  The boys started murmuring in excitement. A set of stag a
ntlers was a great prize. Pori boasted that it will be he to win the prize, but his young brother insisted that it will instead be he.

  “The little one is just like you,” Pedah said to me.

  “And the older one is just as cocky as you,” I replied.

  We set out together on foot as stealth was needed. Pedah, in a quiet voice, instructed the boys how to slip through the forest downwind of the herd, to follow their tracks unnoticed, to take aim with their spears.

  A buck was sighted, a great and beautiful animal with a large rack of antlers, standing silently, his breath, warm clouds of steam rising above him. The boys did as they had been taught and surrounded the buck, tossing spears wildly when Pori gave the signal. Only Sehron did not participate. He lingered back in the trees, a shadow among the snow covered leaves.

  The buck was hurt but not killed. He ran wildly through the forest trampling on the spears and trailing blood upon the pristine white snow. We followed him into a clearing, knowing that he would tire eventually and then we would finish him off and carry him back to our camp. Pori, Padim and the other boys raced after him. There was no need for stealth and quiet now, so they yelled, whooped and tossed their spears about, their faces red with both cold and excitement. Pedah and I followed and watched as the poor beast finally fell to his knees, the white clouds of his panting breath becoming thin trails and then ceasing as he fell upon his side.

  The boys were ecstatic. They raced to the buck, surrounding him and preparing to administer any final blows when a tremendous roar rocked the forest. A great black bear burst from the trees and headed straight for the stag. All the boys turned abruptly and ran back for cover except one. Padim was paralyzed with fear.

  “Padim! Padim!” Pedah yelled and bolted out after the boy although he was armed with only his blade. I ran too, but we were all too late as the bear had seized upon the boy choosing him over the dead stag. Pedah pulled up short, and I fell into him.

  “How can we fight this bear?” I cried as the boys screamed around us.

  “Fire!” Pedah yelled. “Or a spear! Who has still got a spear?” He looked around frantically at the trail of spears in the snow behind us.

  “Fire, Sehron!” I cried. “We need fire!” Where was the MaKennah? I did not see him anywhere. In the corner of my eye I saw something else though. Great black wings soared down from top of a tall fir tree and lit upon the back of the bear.

  “Eagle,” Pedah gasped dumbfounded as the giant raptor seized upon the throat of the bear with its sharp beak.

  The bear roared and rose up on his hind legs tossing Padim aside and frantically tried to shake the winged beast from his back. He galloped across the meadow and then stumbled and collapsed, his own blood leaving a red trail across the snow. Pedah and I ran to Padim and my brother gathered the boy in his arms and hurried back to our encampment. The rest of the boys and I watched as the eagle ripped apart the dead bear's flesh. With something bloody and dripping firmly lodged between his long talons, he retreated to the treetops.

  “We have both a stag and bear to drag back to the camp,” I said when my heart had calmed, and my voice and breath returned to me. I sent a few boys back to camp to bring horses. In the meantime, the rest of us set about to devise a sled to drag the carcasses. Dusk had fallen upon us, and we would not have had enough light to skin and treat the meat.

  Over the next few hours, we dragged the animals back to our camp. Padim was sitting by the fire wrapped in blankets when we arrived. He was bruised and cut but was already telling great tales of his fight with the bear. The boys gathered around eating their dinner of bear meat stew while Pori lobbied for the bear's claws. Antlers were nothing compared to the value of a bear claw necklace.

  “Padim fought him bravely,” Pori insisted. “It should be his reward.”

  The boys agreed as they always agreed to Pori's wishes.

  Pedah looked up from the skinning of the bear’s pelt. We would leave it with our brothers in Shrotru to cure. “The eagle took this bear's heart,” my brother remarked. “How curious is that?”

  We looked too and saw the open space behind the bear's torn lungs.

  “Ripped it right out,” Pedah said with a frown and winked at me. “Have you ever seen an eagle do such a thing?”

  “No,” I shrugged. “I have never seen an eagle attack a bear.”

  “Hmmph,” my brother snorted and went back to the pelt, humming his thinking tune. Then he looked up at me again with a twinkle in his eye. “Have you seen Sehron? Was he with you on your return here?”

  “No,” I shook my head and realized with all the commotion and worry over Padim and the bear, I had completely forgotten about the MaKennah. “I have not seen him since we chased the buck from the forest.”

  “He was frightened,” Pori laughed. “The great MaKennah was scared and ran away to hide.”

  The other boys laughed dutifully.

  I glanced at Pedah who raised his eyebrows, a knowing smile on his lips.

  “Should we be worried?”

  “I suspect he'll show up,” Pedah said, and the words were no sooner out of his mouth than Sehron emerged from the darkness to stand beside the fire. There was something in his hand, and it was dark red and dripping blood.

  “Are you hurt, MaKennah?” Pedah asked to which the boy shook his head.

  “Just frightened,” Pori sneered and came to stand beside the younger boy. “Where were you, MaKennah, when my little brother fought a bear like a man?”

  The silver light washed across Pori's face. Sehron held out it his hand and the bloody object in it.

  “What is it?” Pori flinched.

  “The heart of bear,” Sehron said evenly.

  Pori stepped back. “You took it from the eagle?”

  “No. I took it from the bear.”

  Pori lost all color from his face. He stepped back again and nearly fell into the fire.

  “Prove it,” he said but his voice wavered. “You lie.”

  The MaKennah tossed the heart into the fire where it flamed and burned bright.

  I saw now there was a dark stain across the MaKennah's tunic, and blood dripped down his back and into the snow.

  “Sehron, you are hurt.” Jumping up, I pulled at his tunic. Across his left shoulder were five long, deep gouges, the mark of claws, bear claws.

  “How is that possible?” Pedah asked and winked at me again. He hummed his thinking tune even louder as if it was a song.

  “It was an eagle,” Pori declared. “I saw a great black eagle. We all did.” He looked at the boys for confirmation. Some looked back impassively while others just looked at their feet. Padim gazed up at Sehron adoringly.

  “Perhaps you saw what you wanted to see,” I said and led Sehron to the bucket of fresh water so I could clean his wounds.

  “Thank you” I whispered as I gently dabbed at them. “Thank you for saving that boy.”

  He shrugged and winced at the sting.

  A curious thing happened the next day. Pedah had presented Padim with the twenty bear claws the previous night. In the morning as we were all still tucked in our blankets, Padim arose and came to kneel before the MaKennah.

  “MaKennah?” Padim whispered.

  Sehron turned his head and silver light shone in the younger boy’s face.

  “These are for you. You were the one who killed the bear.” Padim laid the claws on the ground.

  “Thanks,” Sehron replied softly. “Why don't you give them to the other boys? There is enough to give one to each of them.”

  “Ok!” Padim agreed heartily. “We could put them on a strap and wear them around our necks like a clan. Would you wear one too?”

  “I guess I could.”

  Padim laughed. “That would be great! You have a funny accent, you know.”

  “Aye, I know this. I have a funny accent when I speak Mishnese too.”

  “What's it like in Mishnah?”<
br />
  “Very different from here.”

  The boys were all awake now and listening. Some moved closer and were sitting with Padim.

  “Are there bears there too?”

  “Aye, in the forest, but not in the cities.”

  “Do you need to have a gun in the cities?” Limon asked. “I would like a gun much better than a sword. I would like to shoot. I heard the cities aren't safe for walking around. Could you walk around them, MaKennah?”

  “Some parts aren't safe,” Sehron replied. “But I didn't need a gun.”

  “Oh,” Limon replied a little disappointed.

  “I only needed a blade.” Sehron smiled, and Limon smiled back.

  “Cool.”

  “Yeah cool,” the other boys echoed.

  “Did you ever kill any Mishaks with it?” Ferren asked.

  Sehron hesitated for a moment. “Aye,” he said.

  “How many did you kill?” Ferren begged. “More than one?”

  “Aye,” Sehron replied and pulled his blanket over his head. “More than one. Can't you guys let me sleep a little longer?”

  “Come on, guys,” Padim said now with authority. “The MaKennah wants to sleep some more so we will prepare his breakfast while he does.”

  The younger boys jumped up and ran about to heat water and cook. Pori watched all of this with increasing unease.

  “I fear his term as leader is about to end,” Pedah whispered, indicating the older boy.

  “Aye,” I replied, mocking Sehron's street Mishnese accent. “’Tis at that.”

  As the day went on, nearly all of the boys came to congregate around the MaKennah. As we rode the last few miles to Shrotru, Sehron's position on the outskirts had become the front as the boys jostled to stay near or behind him. Only Pori and his friend Karim remained ahead and Karim kept turning his head back to see what was happening. After breakfast, the boys had punched holes in their bear claws and affixed them to a leather strap. Only Pori did not wear one around his neck now.

  We were greeted well in Shrotru. All the village has come to see us and the MaKennah. They stood in the streets and cheered as if we had just returned victorious from a great battle. Some ran forward with hands outstretched to touch the MaKennah. Both he and his crazy horse didn’t like this and the horse reared upon his hind legs and bared his teeth although the MaKennah held on fast. Pedah and I instructed the boys to form a circle around him until we arrived.

  The Chief held a great feast for us, and we presented him with both stag and bear. Then the Shrotru people brought us gifts of furs and food. Pedah and I accepted them on behalf of our father the King of all Karupatani. The Chief of Shrotru was last to present a gift. He knelt before the MaKennah as he would our father and presented him with an earring. On it dangled a Firestone. Firestones were extremely rare both in our continents and in Mishnah. The kings of both countries wore one on their finger, and it was these rings that showed they were kings. A fire burned in these stones which looked like diamonds.

  The MaKennah accepted the gift and thanked the Chief. I would pierce his ear that night so he may wear it. Then the chief presented another gift. He called upon his two daughters who were both older than Sehron but not yet women. They made obeisance before the boy.

  Pedah cleared his throat and announced to the chief that we cannot accept the girls. Our father has not yet decided who the MaKennah would betroth.

  The Chief argued it was not necessary to betroth the girls. He may keep them as concubines.

  He was too young to desire such, Pedah replied dismissively. He was not yet fourteen years.

  The Chief asked the MaKennah to speak for himself whether he would have the girls. “Look how beautiful and supple their bodies are. You will take great pleasure in them. Their mother has given me many children and so shall they give you.”

  The MaKennah’s eyes flashed although he looked as if he would laugh rather than anger. “Great Chief,” he said carefully and slowly pronouncing our words. “I thank you for this gift of your two beautiful daughters. However, I must decline. I have no need of concubine nor wife at this time. I ask you let them be free to select husbands of their own choosing who they might live happily with.”

  “They would live happily with you!” the Chief insisted.

  “I ask you let them choose for themselves,” Sehron repeated in a commanding voice. “And I am not to be that choice.”

  The Chief stared for a moment at this boy who would order him as if he were already king. Then he bowed his head and retreated from our presence.

  The next morning we departed Shrotru and journeyed back toward our own village. Pori and Karim were very animated. They rode at the front and were laughing and pushing each other on their horses.

  “Thanks for refusing the Chief's daughters, MaKennah,” Pori turned around and nudged Karim. There was a mockery in his voice. “Too bad you are still too young. We enjoyed them very much.”

  Sehron did not respond. His mind was elsewhere this morning. Padim and Limon were on either side of him, but he was oblivious to their chatter.

  “I would like to ride in a speeder,” Padim said.

  “Me too,” Limon agreed. “That would be so cool. I would like a gun and a speeder.”

  “I bet you could go really fast. It would be so cool to fly above the ground and look down on everybody.”

  “I bet you can’t even see anybody down here when you are way up there.”

  “I bet we could be in Shrotru in five minutes instead of five days.”

  “Aye.”

  “Aye.”

  “Aye?” Pedah asked, laughing. “I don’t recall you boys ever spending any time in Old Mishnah. Are you going to start speaking Street Mishnese too now?”

  “Aye,” Limon giggled.

  “Hey Pedah,” Padim called. “How come we don't have speeders in Karupatani? How come only the Mishaks get speeders?”

  “We don't need them here,” Pedah replied. “We have fast, strong horses. Mishaks don't have such beautiful horses.”

  “How come Prince Sorkan gets to have a speeder then?”

  Sehron turned abruptly on Limon.

  “Because he lives in Mishnah,” Pedah replied noting the MaKennah's rapt attention with a wink at me. “He cannot cross the ocean on a horse, and he has not the patience to take a boat.”

  “Prince Sorkan is your father isn't he, MaKennah?” Padim asked.

  “Aye,” Sehron replied.

  “How come he hasn't come to visit you here?” Limon said.

  Sehron shrugged and then urged his crazy horse forward to get away from the boys and their questions.

  “Why hasn't he come?” Pedah pondered aloud with a wry smile on his face.

  “I don't know, brother,” I replied. “Perhaps, it is because he is always too drunk.”

  “You think so? Has he ever met his son?”

  I shook my head.

  “Fortunately, his son has us,” my brother declared.

  “We are better than our brother anyway,” I agreed.

  “We are indeed,” my brother nodded. “And we are almost never drunk.”

  The next two days were uneventful. The boys were tired from their journey and anxious to return home to share their stories with their families. The weather was good to us, and it even warmed enough so that the snow and ice had melted. During the course of our journey, the boys obtained a certain camaraderie and surprisingly, little Padim became the de facto leader of the bear claw clan if only because he ordered everyone to serve the MaKennah. If they were lucky, the MaKennah would reward them by answering some of their incessant questions that ranged from what sort of food was eaten in Mishnah to why running water was necessary in Mishnese homes.

  Only Pori and Karim remained estranged from the bear claw clan. Pori was envious of his younger brother's new status while still professing a strong dislike of the MaKennah. There was an undercurrent of ang
er in him in all things now.

  It was our last afternoon on our journey, and we were camped near a pool and waterfall just above our village. Beside us was a meadow that Pedah determined would work well for practicing warrior skills. When the boys had made the encampment and settled in, Pedah rounded them up again and bid them bring spears into the meadow.

  First the boys must find suitable wood for the shafts and then attach their own spear points which they had all made before from ores or metals. While the boys were searching for wooden shafts, Pedah created a series of targets at various places around the meadow.

  When the boys returned, there was a competition to strike the most targets and Pedah, and I watched with amusement. Some spears went wildly off target, others were very nearly accurate. The boys had great fun, and I complimented Pedah on his cleverness for thinking of this exercise.

  Sehron sat down next to us as we watched the games.

  “Why do you not participate?” Pedah demanded. “Are you already too perfect in this sport, as well?”

  Sehron lit a Mishnese cigarette and shrugged. I watched carefully as he did this. He flicked his fingers, and a flame appeared from nowhere.

  “How do you do that?” I asked. “Where do you get that from?”

  He shrugged again. If he knew, he wouldn’t say. Maybe he didn’t know how he did all these things.

  “I know,” he replied, though I never voiced the question. “But you will not understand if I try to explain.”

  “You use Quantum Physics or something, and you think we are nothing but uneducated savages who will not understand these concepts?” Pedah mocked. “But you, a not quite fourteen year old does.” Pedah had a doctorate in Mathematics from his time at the University.

  “Something like that,” the MaKennah replied and took a long drag on a cigarette.

  “You did not answer me. Why do you not participate?” Pedah continued.

  “I don't have a stick?”

  “I'll get you one,” I offered.

  “I can't see?”

  “That's not an acceptable excuse from you,” Pedah replied. There was irritation in his voice. “Get up and hit those targets, now.”

  Padim raced over and offered the MaKennah his spear.

  Sehron sighed heavily.

  “'tis a bad idea, Chester,” he said in Street Mishnese.

  “Why?” I asked. “Chester?”

  “Just do it,” Pedah demanded.

  Sehron pulled himself to his feet, tossing his still burning cigarette into the air where it disappeared.

  He approached the first target and took up a position 50 feet away. Then, he threw the spear, and it struck and held exactly center of the target. The boys cheered and clapped. Pori smirked and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Sehron went to the second target at a distance of 100 feet. He struck that one dead center too. “Shall I continue?” he called to Pedah. “Chester?”

  “Yes,” Pedah demanded. “Chester.”

  The next target was 200 feet and that he hit dead on, as well. The boys went crazy except for Pori whose face had turned bright red.

  Sehron waited.

  “Keep going,” Pedah called and then whispered to me. “I'm sure glad he's on our side. A few more years and Prince Akan won't be able to sleep at night.”

  Sehron lined up to take a shot at the next target which was 300 feet. He was about to launch the spear when another spear came flying through the air straight at him.

  “MaKennah!” Padim screamed, and Sehron turned just in time for the spear to pass him and hit the boy who was standing off to his side, Karim.

  “Ay yah!” Pori screamed. “Karim!”

  Karim was shrieking wildly and pulling at the spear which was lodged in his shoulder just left of his heart. His tunic had stained bright red and blood was running down his hands as he fell to his knees.

  Pori was at his side even faster than Pedah and I.

  “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” he cried and pulled at the spear which was tightly wedged in Karim’s chest.

  “Stop it,” Pedah ordered. “Calm down, everyone. Karim, let me see.”

  Pori was frantic and pulled until the shaft broke off in his hand. There was only about 3 inches of wood remaining while the spearhead was lodged deep inside Karim.

  Pori wailed and held out the broken stick for all to see.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Sehron said and knocked Pori aside. He moved in beside Pedah. “Don't pull it!” Pedah has already tried, and the remaining wood has come away in his hand. Karim now wailed and thrashed beneath him.

  “We need to get back to the village right now,” Pedah ordered, trying to stay calm although I could see the fear in his eyes.

  “Pedah,” Sehron said steadily, his silver eyes shining in Pedah's face. “We cannot move him. If the spearhead slips, it will sever an artery, and he will bleed out. Go to the camp and find a needle and thread. Also some clean cloth. Yes? Can you do this?”

  Pedah looked stunned but slowly he rose.

  “Pori,” Sehron said in this strange calm voice. “Go with Pedah and get two buckets of boiling water. Can you be quick about it?”

  Pori looked at Pedah and then nodded. The two of them ran back to our encampment.

  “Padim,” Sehron continued. “Take some boys and see if you can find some Echinacea and some Bayberry root bark. Do you know what they look like? Bring them back and using a heavy stone, crush them into a powder. After that we will add some hot water from Pori’s bucket and make a paste. You understand, yes?”

  “Yes, yes,” Padim cried emphatically and grabbing two more boys, they ran off into the forest.

  Sehron held a blade in his left hand and placed his right palm upon Karim’s forehead.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  Karim whimpered and shook, the color drained from his face.

  “Karim,” the MaKennah said. “You're going to go to sleep now. You'll feel better when you wake up.”

  Karim nodded, and his eyes closed, his head dropping to the side just as Pori returned with two buckets of sloshing water.

  “What's wrong with him?” he cried. “Is he dead?”

  “No, he's sleeping,” Sehron snapped. “You bleeding idiot.” He dipped his knife and his hands in one bucket.

  “The water's boiling,” I said as the MaKennah pulled his bright red hands back out. He took the blade and made four cuts emanating from the hole the spearhead had entered.

  “I'm going to pull the skin back,” he instructed. “Tuman, sterilize your blade as I just did, and we will use both to hold the skin away from the muscle.” I did as he said, and we all watched in amazement as he folded the skin away. Then he gently moved the thick muscle about, finding the path of the spearhead and easing the bit of metal out of the tissue. Blood spurted from the hole.

  “He's still bleeding!” Pori screamed.

  Sehron stuck his finger back in the hole.

  “What are you doing?” I said.

  “Cauterizing it.” There was a wisp of smoke and smell of burnt flesh. “Helps to have fire in your fingers.” Smiling slightly, he pulled the torn pieces of muscle against each other and sewed them back together with the needle and thread which Pedah had brought. The boy made tiny neat little stitches as if he had done this a thousand times before.

  “Not in this time,” he remarked, diligently tying off the stitches.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  Sehron folded the cut skin back on itself and then proceeded to stitch that up, as well.

  “Professor Pedah, you know of time waves and portals, do you not?” Sehron said as he worked.

  “I do,” Pedah was pale and acted stunned as if he was in shock. He focused his eyes on Sehron's stitching.

  “So if I went through a portal to another time where I was quite adept at surgery and returned to this time and remembered my skill from the future time, have
I done it yet or not?” Sehron wiped at the wound with sterilized water from the second bucket.

  Padim has brought Echinacea and Bayberry root. Sehron added the boiling water and made a paste and then applied it to the wound.

  “Bayberry is an astringent and will slow the bleeding. Echinacea is an antibiotic which will act as an antiseptic for us,” Sehron instructed us. “They will keep away infection, and the wound will heal well.”

  Then he took some of the clean cloth that Pedah had brought and covered the wound. Using a larger piece, he wrapped a bandage around Karim's entire chest and left arm. Satisfied with his work, the MaKennah stepped back and rinsed his hands in the bucket.

  “Have I done it yet or not?” He smiled at Pedah.

  Pedah shook his head. “I don't know.”

  Sehron shrugged. “I don't know either but then, I'm not quite fourteen.”

  Pedah and I and two more boys crafted a sling for Karim and carried him back to camp where he slept the rest of the day. The other boys swam in the frigid waters of the mountain pool and then came to warm themselves by the fire.

  Sehron was sitting in front of the fire when Pori joined him, sitting down by his side.

  “You have a scar in the same place,” he said. “I saw it when you were swimming.”

  “I do,” Sehron agreed.

  “How did you get it?”

  “I was shot.”

  “How long did it take to heal?”

  “About three months.”

  Pori nodded.

  “You have other scars too. Why?”

  Sehron shrugged. “Blokes kept trying to kill me.”

  Pori considered this. There was silence around the fire.

  “You saved my brother’s life, and you saved my best friend’s life,” Pori said softly. “I owe you mine.” Pori knelt down in obeisance.

  Sehron turned his face away from the fire and appeared to gaze off into the hills. “Your debt will be paid.” Then he rose to his feet and walked away from our circle, disappearing into the twilit forest.

  The next day we returned to our village. The MaKennah rode at the front with Pori on one side and Padim on the other. All the boys wore their bear claws, even Karim who was in pain but proud to sit his own saddle. My father smiled as we approach.

  “A great adventure?” he said.

  “You have no idea,” I replied.

  My brother hummed a few bars of his thinking tune and then smiled. “Unbelievable,” he said with a shake of his head. “Truly unbelievable.”

  Chapter 14

  Tuman