Journey To Light: Part I of the High Duties of Pacia Read online

CHAPTER 31

  Caelia § 5

  Hard times make hard people, as the old saying goes, and bad times make bad people. Folks who lived in the cisalpine area of Amicitia had seen times both hard and bad ever since the fall of Abbelôn. Not nearly as cruel as the fate of those who lived across the mountains, certainly not, but harsh enough. For more than a decade, few travelers had come north of the Veridis Hills or east of the forest, and none at all came far enough to see where the High Road entered Amity Pass through the mountain range. Villages and towns which had once prospered along the route became impoverished and many people in the region moved away to the west or south. Most who stayed in their old homes remained decent citizens but a few proved the veracity of the old saying.

  Three such men concealed themselves under the branches of a tree on the northern edge of the forest and stared outward. One had an ugly scar disfiguring the left side of his face while a second was tall and thin. The third was younger than the others, perhaps only twenty or twenty-one. The question of whether or not they might have lived respectable lives during better times was debatable. After years with little money, these three were ready to steal from anyone they met. As they watched, a group of four ox-drawn wagons approached from the northeast.

  “That’s the second bunch of wagons we’ve seen today,” the one with the scarred face said to his partners. “Wonder where they’re going?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” snapped the tall one. “Only thing that counts is whether they got something worth taking.”

  “Don’t look like there’s much in those wagons,” replied scar-face.

  “They got to have something. We should go find out what.”

  “There’s four men altogether on those wagons and only three of us. Four women and two kids too.”

  “You afraid of a fight? Did you forget we got swords and spears?” the tall one replied. What he called spears were just poles with crudely made hammered-iron points attached, and the edges of the swords, which had originally been chopping tools, were worn and pitted.

  “I’m just saying it’s a lot of trouble for maybe nothing,” answered scar-face defensively.

  The young bandit, who had remained silent so far, spoke up. “We can always take their women if they don’t have anything better. We can sell them.”

  “I ain’t having nothing to do with those Yuzoi bastards again,” insisted the scarred one as he rubbed his cheek.

  “Don’t have to,” the tall one assured him. “I know Sarkonians who’ll buy them, and they won’t tell their bosses what they got either, let alone where they got them.” Scar-face wanted to say something else but the young one cut him off.

  “What are we waiting on, damn it? Let’s get the horses.”

  Earlier in the day, Caelia had conversed with Matrika about a variety of subjects. The girl understood how a compass worked, for example, and knew they were traveling west. Now that the afternoon was getting late, however, the girl just sat in the back of the wagon and gazed around. Days of riding behind the slow-plodding oxen still had not left her bored. The landscape of the mountains and foothills had fascinated her, and even the gently rolling land she saw now was interesting simply because it was new to her. The expanse of grassland interspersed with patches of brush might seem monotonous to other people but not to Caelia.

  Occasionally she would look up at the cloudless sky and Tabari would immediately nag her again about avoiding sunburn. Her wide-brimmed hat was annoying, although not so much as Tabari’s constant watching, but she knew that wearing it was doubly important for her. Dagan and Matrika both had darker hair than average. Matrika’s was nearly black, in fact, and her skin looked tan even without sunshine so pretending to be their daughter required keeping her hair hidden, especially since sunlight made it look brighter than it did in the light of the caverns. Caelia didn’t much like the loose-fitting dress she wore either. It may have been the style worn in the countryside of northern Amicitia but it was impractical compared to her usual tunic and pants. Still, she understood the necessity of blending in and did not complain, not even about wearing long sleeves in the afternoon heat.

  The weather was dry and the oxen kicked up considerable dust as they plodded along. Each team stirred up progressively more of the dry dirt so that the people riding in the last wagon suffered the worst of it, and Dagan did what he could to equalize the discomfort. Periodically, the wagons changed position in line so everyone had a turn up front. At present, Dagan was in the wagon at the rear along with his wife, son, and Caelia. Tomas and his wife Mena, both tekniks, drove the lead wagon followed by Franco and Lindella, fabers who weren’t officially married but considered themselves a couple anyway. Anginears Reikard and Brunelda were third in line.

  Their bags of merchandize and camping gear took up only part of the space in the wagon, which was made to bring back bulkier loads than they took away, so Caelia had room to get comfortable. She leaned against the tailgate and stretched her legs out in front of her. Tabari sat cross-legged in the middle of the wagon bed and tried not to get caught staring at her. The fact that her skirt was hemmed just below the knees had not escaped his attention, and when Caelia saw him glancing at her lower legs she snapped her fingers. He looked up and she pointed at his eyes and her knees and then shook her finger in a gesture that obviously meant no. Then she nodded towards the backs of his parents who sat on the front bench of the wagon. The boy understood her meaning clearly; she was threatening to tell his mother and father. Alarmed, Tabari shook his head rapidly with a pleading expression on his face.

  Although she didn’t turn around, Matrika heard the finger snap and something about the ensuing silence aroused her maternal instincts. Without looking back, she asked, “Is everything all right back there?”

  “Oh, yes,” Caelia assured her. “Tabari and I are just enjoying looking at the scenery.” The way she said the word scenery made the boy blush. Speaking to Tabari, Caelia said, “You’re lucky you get to go out to the gardens all the time, brother. I wish I could stay outside as much as you do.” This time she stressed the word brother.

  “You two do make a good brother-sister team even if you don’t look that much alike,” commented Matrika as she turned in her seat so she could see the two kids. Relieved that Caelia had not explained what she meant by scenery, Tabari spoke up.

  “I like having Caelia as my sister,” he said to his mother while watching the girl.

  The smile Caelia gave him was genuine in one sense of that word. While her lips curled up, her eyes flashed a genuinely serious expression to Tabari. Having made her point, she turned to observe the trees on the left side of the wagon again. She had watched with interest as the wagons drew closer to the forest and now they were riding parallel to the edge of the woods. When the little convoy stopped for the evening later, she wanted to enter the forest on foot for a better view.

  Matrika saw where the girl was looking and asked, “What’s the difference between these trees and the ones around our gates, Caelia?”

  “Several things. These aren’t quite as tall but their branches spread out much wider. The trunks of firs are straighter than most of these but the diameters of both seem similar in size. Most of all, these have broad leaves instead of needles.” From her studies, Caelia knew a great deal about things she had never actually seen before.

  “Is there a word used to classify this . . .?” Matrika started to ask.

  “Deciduous,” Caelia answered before the question was finished. “These leaves will fall off before winter and grow again in the spring, unlike evergreen needles.”

  “Very good,” commended Matrika which made Tabari bristle.

  “I knew that too,” he insisted, even though he didn’t.

  “He really does know,” Caelia said. “You should’ve asked him first.” Tabari didn’t know how to respond. Her first comment seemed supportive but the second part contained hidden sarcasm. What would he have done if his mother had asked him first? The girl continued talking to M
atrika. “I didn’t know you were a teacher.”

  “I’m not but your father asked me to make sure you observe and learn as much about the world as you can.”

  “It figures he’d say that. Dad’s sweet but he’s got his head in a fog if he thinks I wouldn’t pay attention out here.”

  “Your mother knew you would.”

  Then the girl heard noise behind them and turned around.

  “Look out!” she cried. Dashing toward them were animals that Caelia knew about but had never seen – three horses with men riding on their backs.

  By the time the bandits had retrieved and mounted their horses, they were almost too late. When they emerged from the cover of the forest, the wagons were already well ahead of them. The horses were faster than oxen, of course, but the people onboard the last wagon saw them coming and had time to halt and prepare while the bandits approached. The bandits saw the man in the wagon pull the reins as he shouted something to the other drivers. Then he and his woman jumped down from the bench and pulled long wooden staves from the side of the wagon. From the way the two held the staves, it seemed that they knew how to defend themselves. Not recognizing Pàçians, the outlaws didn’t know that Dagan and Matrika would do nothing more than poke and prod to keep the men away. Two kids were in the back of the wagon, and the boy picked up some odd looking thing and held it in his right hand while he pumped his left fist back and forth rapidly.

  With their home-made spears leveled, the tall bandit and his scar-faced partner charged at Dagan and Matrika – or at least as far as their horses would take them. Having been bred and trained to pull plows rather than carry rag-tag brigands, the animals stopped short before their riders closed within a spear-length of their targets. Both men waved the spears as menacingly as they could and shouted, “Give us everything you’ve got!”

  Then they realized the girl was standing in the bed of the wagon and staring at them. A wave of doubt and confusion washed over them. What were they doing? Why did they feel guilty?

  Suddenly, an odd popping-puffing noise came from the wagon and the tall bandit screamed in pain as a dart penetrated his thigh. The scarred one looked and saw the boy fumbling to put another dart into the gadget he held. The outlaw urged his reluctant horse closer and tried to reach the kid with his spear. Tabari did not have time to pump up the air-darter again so he threw it. It hit the horse on the shoulder causing the animal to buck and back away. As his mount moved, scar-face saw six people from the wagons in front running back to help their fellows. More importantly, he looked back at the girl. He realized he didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to hurt anyone but he couldn’t understand why not. After a moment, he found his voice.

  “This is no good! Let’s get out of here!” the bandit shouted and he spurred his horse to leave.

  “Damn it, we got to get something!” screamed the tall one as he clutched the shaft protruding from his leg, but his horse turned to run away also.

  The third bandit had managed to stay unnoticed as he circled to the other side of the wagon. No one, including Caelia, saw him uncoil his rope until he threw a loop over the girl from behind. He jerked the rope and pulled Caelia over the side of the wagon. She hit the ground hard enough to stun her and she was only vaguely aware of being pulled up and thrown face down across the horse. Voices calling “Stop! Stop!” and “Caelia!” diminished behind her as the horse ran.

  Dagan and Matrika ran after the girl but they were soon passed by the younger Tomas and Franco. “We can run faster than you,” Tomas cried. “We’ll chase them until you catch up.”

  It was dark when Caelia woke. She lay still and listened to the bandits argue among themselves around a campfire. The one hit by the air-darter was groaning and demanding another drink from a jug.

  “Give me some more whiskey,” he shouted. “It still hurts.”

  “Quit whining,” snapped a younger voice. “It wasn’t even a real arrow that hit you, just some kid’s toy.”

  “Didn’t you see how deep it went in?” demanded the first voice. “I need something more for the pain, I tell you.”

  “Ah, here. Take the damn jug and get so drunk you pass out,” said a third voice. “I’m tired of hearing you complain.”

  “Go ahead, you old fool,” said the younger voice. “I’m tired of your noise too.” A scuffling noise was followed by a cork popping and gurgling sounds, and then several minutes of silence ensued.

  Caelia decided to open her eyelids just enough to get a peek around her. She was lying on her side with one of the men sitting between her and the campfire but nothing else was visible without turning her head, something she wasn’t ready to do. Her wrists were bound with leather strips and one end of a rope was tied around her ankle. The other end was held by the bandit she could see. Caelia had seen two of their faces earlier but didn’t recognize this one. Obviously, he must be the one who had snuck up from behind. The wounded man and the scar-faced bandit were somewhere on the other side of the fire. As she closed her eyes again, the man nearest her spoke and she recognized the younger voice.

  “You were no help today. You ran as soon as you could.”

  “I didn’t run,” the scarred man said defensively. “There was nothing we could do.”

  “I did something. Now I’m going to sell the girl and keep the money. You and your drunken partner don’t deserve a share.”

  “He’s not my partner, and . . .,” but whatever else the man meant to say never came out. After a long silent moment of palpable tension, Caelia heard the man across the fire stand up and say, “I don’t have to listen to your insults. I’m leaving.”

  “Fine with me.”

  The girl listened carefully and realized that the man really was leaving. He took one of the horses and rode away. Caelia comprehended the situation clearly. One brigand was gone and another was drunk, leaving only one to evade. Admittedly, he held the rope which bound her ankle but all she had to do was stay awake longer than him! Staying awake wasn’t so easy, however. Caelia was still dizzy from her fall, and despite her tension, a feeling of lassitude spread as the adrenaline which had rushed through her body earlier wore off. She closed her eyes (just so her captor wouldn’t see she was awake, she thought to herself) and after what seemed like only a few moments she opened them to see early morning light.

  She held her breath until she recognized that the young bandit was asleep. Loud snores came from across the campfire so Caelia also knew that the other remaining bandit was still drunk. Focusing on her immediate problem, she peeked enough to see her captor laying on his side with his back to her and she noticed that the rope was draped over his body with the end out of her sight. Creeping as softly as she could, she moved toward him to get the rope loose. She crawled closer and gently pulled it away from him. Suddenly he yawned and mumbled something. When she saw his eyes blinking open, Caelia’s mind focused on only one fervent thought: ‘Stay asleep – stay asleep!’

  Had anyone seen what happened next, they would have noticed just a girl standing beside a reclining man. Only a Sistére or Madrére could have perceived Caelia’s flaring Aura or measured the girl’s strength as the man’s eyes closed. The outlaw stopped stirring and lay still. His breathing changed to something different from either the sonorous respiration of sleep or the normal inhalations of someone awake. So soft did his breathing become that she had to watch his chest closely to make certain he was alive. Grabbing at the rope, she snatched it up as best she could so it wouldn’t drag behind her and ran away from him.

  An hour after dawn, Tomas and Franco found the bandits’ camping place. They found two men lying on the ground, but the third bandit and Caelia were nowhere in sight.

  “This guy is the one Tabari shot with the darter,” Franco said as he looked the man over. “He’s stinking drunk.”

  “This one is completely unconscious, not just asleep,” Tomas said about the other man. “I don’t see any wounds, but the missing bandit must have knocked this guy out som
ehow and taken Caelia away. How are we going to tell Dagan and Matrika she’s gone?”

  “How are we going to tell Escol and Binah? And everyone else back home, for that matter.”

  Despondent, they began shouting, “Caelia! Where are you?” but they heard no reply.

  When the sun came up Caelia moved faster and eventually she lost track of how long she had run and had no idea where she was. She heard voices in the distance and feared that other villains had arrived to chase her; when she heard them again, she was certain of it. She couldn’t make out what they were saying but it could not be anything good so she ran faster.

  Finally, fatigue and an urgent need to relieve herself forced her to stop. Then she crawled under some dense bushes and tried to get her bindings loose. She managed to slide the rope over her foot and off the ankle but gnawing at the leather strips around her wrists did not free her hands. Unwilling to remain defenseless, she looked around until she found a stout stick the right length to be swung with a two-handed grip. More gnawing loosened the straps just enough to allow some circulation to her hands. They began to tingle and then to sting painfully but soon she was able to hold and swing her new club.

  Suddenly she heard hoof beats and her heart pounded. Lying flat, she peered out from under the bottom of the bushes and saw the lower legs of a horse coming closer. The animal stopped in front of Caelia and turned to face her hiding place. Then its rider dismounted. She could see his legs but not his body.

  Refusing to be captured lying down, Caelia stood up and pushed forward through the bushes.