3

Gathering Day

Saber had planned on going back to the Western Boarder. But he had forgotten the second rest day; he had forgotten that not all was leisure on the second rest day of the moon-time. The second was Gathering Day.

"But Papa, why can't I come?" Saber asked, perhaps for the hundredth time.

Saber's father was in no mood to deal with any extra stress at the moment and growled angrily at him, "I said no! It is a place for warriors, not for boys and scholars! Now get into your room before I thrash you!"

His mother frowned and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Fegreth...why not let him come once? Perhaps he will not want to come again."

The man had been about to yell at everyone, but finally looked hard at his son. "Fine. You want to come, boy? You will come. And I will not allow you to run away, either. You want to come? Fine. You may." He stalked away. "Get over here, if you're going to hinder my journey, you will help in the gathering."

Saber was apprehensive, but still, he followed along in his father's agitated wake. He was used to his father's ways, but the way he spoke of this day frightened him. Still he took mild offense that he would want to run away. But then it occurred to him that maybe his father felt like doing the same on this day, and that possibility scared him even more.

Saber helped his father gather with the warriors of the village, something he had never done before. They gathered the townspeople's offerings of gold and stone, the two things that were demanded.

"What is he doing here?" demanded Drett, the greatest warrior in the village. A scholar was something that he spit upon if one were to cross his path on the roads, at least that's what most the scholars thought. Saber shrank back, feeling out of place, embarrassed, and intimidated.

The boy's father made a face. "He has insisted on going. I was going to thrash him for his insolence...but I decided instead to let him come." He sighed and looked at his son, not unkindly, but weary. "It may have been kinder to thrash him."

"Just make sure the whelp stays out of the way, Fegreth." Drett stalked away. Saber scowled, but did not quite dare stick out his tongue; this was the father of Iyen, the strongest boy in his dareden. The one who always made mock of him and usually beat him up if he decided to make mock back. No wonder he was such a jerk!

But he had little time to think of it. Had his father been angry with him when mentioning a thrashing being more kind, he would have believed it said for his benefit. But the tired way he had said it scared the boy. It scared him badly. Saber had almost decided to stay home, but once again he felt the sting of his father's assumption that he would run away. Why should he not think that? That is what he usually did: run away. But a father's scorn is more difficult to take than anything. And a father's pride was something that a boy wanted more than all the gold in the valley. And so he went. Later he was glad he did, but before that he wet himself in terror.

The warriors of the three Erthrin groups and the Bruter village all met at the one boarder of town where people traveled every moon-time. The only one: the Northern Boarder. The Western Boarder in the woods was blocked by a fence. The Southern and Eastern ones were giant, un-scalable cliffs that rose from the Bruters' Village and the Lowlanders. But this one had no barrier. It had nothing to stop one from passing, except fear. Fear and a few written warnings in bright red. Saber gulped, and although he felt vaguely ridiculous, he cowered behind his father's form. The fear gave his humiliation plenty to hide it with.

It only increased as the wagon journeyed beyond the boundaries of the village, and the terrain went from
pleasant, mostly green lands and brown roads to rocky ground and bumpy riding. Large cliffs rose, gray, and
bleak, as the path they traveled narrowed into the only way out of the Valley besides the Western boarder.
Saber had once asked his father why no one traveled the West, when they did the North, however reluctantly.
He had said that facing the unknown was worse than facing the known. Saber had thought it a strange things
for a warrior to say, and somewhat cowardly, although he would never tell that to his father. What if the
unknown was less a threat? But that was not the place of an eight-cycler to say. Even at eleven seasons, it was not
his place. But he still thought of it.

Finally, they got to the narrow pass, and Saber's father saw his boy shaking. He saw him bite his lip in fear
and leaned over to whisper very softly to him, "Now is the last chance, little one." He was no longer angry with
him, only worried, as always on Gathering Day. "This is the last chance for backing out. If you want to return,
do it now and run home."

Saber was tempted. Boy, was he tempted. He had never seen such a place, where the acrid fumes rose in
red, stifling tendrils, and the very sun was blotted out by the gloom. Where the gray rock loomed like cold
giants, and he could see no life he recognized, only vague shadows that darted in the dark. But he swallowed
hard and said, "N-n-no. N-no, Papa...I will stay."

A little impressed, the man put a companionable arm around the boy. "Good boy." He said nothing else,
but needed not to. Saber even noticed Drett look at him in surprise. He liked that.

The cart passed the opening, rock walls shooting up from either side, and Saber could not help but look out
at the wastelands that were only a plains version of the desolate tunnel they had been traveling through this
whole time. Here and there he saw vast pits that looked as if they were filled with oozing fire, a blaze that
some impossible hand had rendered to liquid and poured in the rock depressions. Though his mind screamed
with terror, his curiosity was filing away every detail, looking at everything he could see. He would want to
write this whole thing down in his journal. Not even Iyen had ever been on a Gathering!

The little party rode for several hours in this territory, and Saber's fear had been diminishing. Though he was still tense, the
same country had been slipping by as the oxen pulled the carts through, and nothing had jumped out them yet.
He kept expecting it, but not as much. In fact he relaxed enough to doze at the gentle lull of the cart's movements.
It was not long after when his father woke him, and he looked around with sleepy eyes, a little sheepish.
You didn't see the warriors falling asleep in the cart did you? He gave his father a grin util he rememebered
where they were and the grin vanished. He gulped. "Yes," his father said. "You must stay right with me and do
as I say. Is that understood?"

Saber nodded. "Yes, sir," he said in a low voice, and looked around. The lands had not changed much, but
he could see that they had stopped in a shallow valley type area, almost a cave, but too surface. More like a
large hollow in the rock with a narrow opening like the one they had passed to leave the village. He waited to
see what would happen.

What happened at first was not much. Silent and grim, the warriors and he all left the cart to stand by it,
and everyone looked as if the mythical jrendi-bird had just come to claim them all for death. It was not a look he
cared to see on the face of the bravest man in the village.

They all just stood there for a long time, and Saber whispered to his father, "What happens now? How long
do we have to stand her-" but he was cut off by his father grabbing his shoulders, not in anger, but in fear. He
gulped and looked around as several of the warrios shushed them. Saber blinked. "Quiet!" his father hissed,
looking out the opening. "If they are angered..."

Drett grasped Fegreth's shoulder and shook his head. Glaring at the boy, he made a shushung gesture, and
confused, Saber fell silent.

An hour. Saber hopped uncomfortably from one foot to another, the tension that had been building releasing
itself in pure boredom. Was this all it was? When did they leave? He had heard that being a fighter, a warrior,
was five-sixths boredom, tedium, and training, and one-sixth fear. He was beginning to think that Gathering
Day was the same. He had been right about the fear, and in about two seconds he knew it.

All of a sudden, as all warriors present tensed and grasped their weapons for assurance, but none daring to
draw, there was a sound from outside. An increasing revving sounds like the ones you could hear in the valley
on some nights when the wind was right, from the outlands. Farther even than this. His jaw dropped; what kind of hellish thing was this?

No one was paying attention to him as he heard somehting heavier than a house land on the ground. He peeked out the entrance, and his jaw dropped farther still, a voiceless gasp escaping from his lips.

Outside was a shadow, one as big as a mountain, although he could not see it clearly. What he did see sent
his eyes wideneing like plates, and that was when he wet himself.

Too frigthtened to move, he stared transfixed as a giant dragon roared and raced at him, spitting fire and
lowering its head. It was headed right at them! It would kill them all! But dragons weren't real! only babies believed in dragons! The boy looked up and screamed, seeing a bird bigger than a man swoop effortlessly through the
air, and saw two other flying shapes, one that had blades as wings, and something bounding, like a giant ball
made of the metal the warriors used for their swords.

Finally the boy's paralysis broke and he screamed again, running back into the small cavern to cower behind
his father, and this time he would not have cared if his whole school saw him, wet cloth and all. Right now he
wanted nothing more than to be finishing his assigment that day. He even wanted to be home reading his life-book. Anything but this.

A minute later, all roars stopped outside. Whimpering, Saber listened desperately as there was a moment
of silence, then he screamed again, gripping his father's clothing, as several...he was not sure what to call them...came into his view.

Six, seven, a dozen of them, spawns from Hell itself, came in, leering, horns on their very heads.
They surrounded the frightened warriors, and from Saber's distorted view hiding behind his father, he still got a
better look than he wanted. And yet he was unable to look away.

Drett, the leader of the group of course, knelt and said in a voice that was not quite steady to the hellspawns,
"H-here is the offering." He gestured to the cart and only knelt, as if waiting to be told what to do.

None present answered, but a voice from outside, a voice that must have sent banshees shrieking in terror,
ordered the warriors to start unloading, and do it now! Every one of them, including his father, immediately
began to obey. As if going to the exeution place, they began carrying valuables from the cart outside.
Including his father, and Saber clutched his clothes tight, stying right at his side the whole time.

Sudeenly, he heard a harsh laugh right behind him He screeched and spun around, as someone grabbed his
shoulders. Tall, he was so tall. Taller than any in his town, even Crazy Hesh, and with the face of a demon;
distorted, nightmarish. He whimpered, wetting himself a little more, and not even knowing it. "Look here!" the
demon gloated. "A runt! What should we do with him?" The voice was cruel, mocking, but they spoke like his
people almost! The voice was from the nightmare realm, but the speech! That made it all the worse.

Fegreth looked concernedly back, but did not dare speak; he did not dare. He could only hope that his son
would be spared and berated himself for letting him come along.

"I don't know," another hissed, coming up behind the first one as the poor boy cried in terror. "He looks too
insignificant to worry about." It laughed. "Throw it back!"

The taller one snickered and dropped the boy who landed on the ground and skittered under the cart.

"I say we use him as our target practice," one said, the great metel thing that had bounded through the air He
pointed a giant cylinder at Saber, a cylinder of metal, that looked like the cannon in the Lowlanders' realm.

"No, please!" The cry had come from his father, who could not stand it anymore. He fell to his knees before
the one who had threatened his son's safety. "I beg you, spare him. He is only a small child, take me instead!"
Saber gaped at him. He had never heard his father beg.

"You dare!" the slimmer demon hissed, and blew at him, as if to blow him away like a wind. To Saber's
horror, a thin sheet of ice layered itelf over his father's body, and he froze solid, not able to move. Saber
screamed again and cringed back against the wheel of the cart as the two demons only laughed and stood again,
their playful cruelty sated for the moment as the rest of the warriors hastened in their task.

Finally it was loaded, and the men and one woman stood by the cart once more. The demon with the power
of the winter cupped its hand together and sent a flash of flame at Fegreth's body. The warrior collapsed, the ice
gone, his body wet with the water, and shivering from the cold. His mind flooding with relief, Saber almost did
not hear what the demon hissed. "I will give you one more chance, wretch. If you ever speak to one of us like
that again, you will not leave this place."

"Y-y-yes," Fegreth stammered, staggering to his feet. "Thank you for y-your g-g-generosity, lords..."

"Get out."

No further command was needed. The villagers all piled into the cart as the demons left, laughing once
more, and then the awful noise of their beasts.

Fegreth smacked his boy twice on the way home, half in anger for what had happened to him, and half just
because he was angry at himself for subjecting his son to that horrible scene. But he had not struck him hard,
and even Drett, who was also quite angry, could see the boy had been punished enough. Fegreth held his son to
him and smoothed back his hair, and slowly the boy's terror diminished and he held onto his father for all he
was worth. He was still crying.

It was an hour before he could speak, and it was a horrified whisper. He kept glancing behind him, afraid
one of the unnatural creatures would be there, leering. "P-p-papa...wh-what....what were they?"

"Demons," he said grimly.

"Y-yes....b-but...they...but they spoke like us!"

His father shook his head and smoothed his hair. "I don't know, little one. No one knows exactly what they
are. But they are clearly demons, with the power of the elements at their very fingers. And they are not even
the lords, they are only the minions."

Saber blinked. "Y-you mean they're peons?"

A couple of the warriors winced and looked around, afraid omeone else might have heard, as some of the
demons had such extraordinary senses they could hear a blade of grass rustle at two miles. But some laughed, a
pure release of tension. Fegreth was one of those, and it made Saber a little more at ease as well. "Where did
you hear that term?" he asked gently.

"W-well...Iyen said it once. He-he said that's what a person is that lets someone else boss them around."

His father nodded, serious once more, but not so grim. "Yes...I guess you could say so. And so, imagine
what horror their master must be. You see now the reason for our offering. What they could do to our homes,
our mates, children." He put a protective arm around his son. His lightly furred skin was still wet and clammy,
but the horrible shaking had stopped.

Saber only nodded. He did not want to imagine such a creature.

There was silence the rest of the way home. His mother saw immediately he had wet himself, and discreetly
ushered him into the bathroom to clean him, as in their village there was nothing wrong with a mother cleaning
her child, male or not. Drii came in and laughed at him for wetting his pants and got swatted by his mother, and
told by his father that when he could go on a Gathering and keep from fainting, much less wetting himself,
then he could talk.

Drii sulked, but that did not stop him from asking his big brother later what it was like. In the safety of his own room, he was glad to recall it. Now that it was over, and he was still alive, he found himself amazed, and even proud of himself. He had gotten through it! He told the boy everything he could recall, and tried his best to decribe the horrible creatues he had seen. Drii's eyes were so wide, Saber had the funny thought of them falling out and rolling across the floor, as in a funny-drawing. "You're telling stories!" he accused.

Saber looked at him in surprise. He had expected maybe fear or amazement, but not disbelief. "I'm not! Ask Papa!"

But though the little one was young, his was not stupid. He looked into his brother's eyes. And he saw truth.
"D-d-demons...do...do you think they'll come here?"

Saber shook his head. "No. Papa says that's what the Gathering's for...so they don't." He put an arm around
the child. "I'd fight if they tried to take you."

He had ridiculeed Saber before, but that what what little brothers did. He hugged him. "You're brave."

Saber beamed. There was almost nothing nicer than hearing a little brother or sister tell you you're brave.
"Thanks, kid."

That night, he wrote several pages in his journal, and rememebereed everything he could. He would have to
get more parchment in town on the next rest day. This had been much better, or maybe much worse, than
going to the Western border. Or so he thought then.

Saber with his father on Gathering Day
Saber

Part 4: The Western Border

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