18

A Time to Heal

In Saber's village, his parents were certain that he was dead. They had searched the entire valley, every known hiding place, every nook and cranny, all the places he liked to wander. They had found no trace of him.

Gathering day had come once more, and of course the Lunattacks that were there masquerading quite convincingly as demons had not been able to resist mentioning the young adventurer. "Heard your brat left the valley, Erthrin," Chilldon had sneered. Fegreth, Saber's father, had looked up in surprise.

Infra snickered. "We came across the pathetic little wretch. He was fun to play with...while he lasted."

The others had laughed at this while the warriors that brought the monthly offerings had all looked shocked. Fegreth had only stared for a moment, and then with the rage of a father whose child has been harmed, he did the unthinkable. He attacked one of the demons of the rocklands with his blade.

Now had he made contact with Infra, he might have learned what his son had: that they were not immortal. But Earthquake, quick on the draw with his gravity carbine, had struck him, lifting him in the air, and making him miss. "You dare attack?!" the irate Lunattack roared. He flung Fegreth into one of the cave walls and he dropped his sword, gasping to get his breath back from the blow.

"Y-you killed my son!" he cried when he had managed to breathe again. "He was only an innocent child!"

"Silence!" Earthquake roared, and flung him again against the wall.

And he did so again, and again...

The others were laughing at this improvised ping-pong game, and jeered at him when the rounded Lunattack finally released Fegreth and dropped him to the ground, unconscious. Chilldon woke him with a breath of icy air, and took him by the hair. "We won't kill you tonight, mortal," he hissed. "Consider it a favor. You can live to mourn your son."

Then they had left, as the last of the valuables had been loaded into Skytomb.

The other warriors had helped the injured man back onto the cart and back home, where he was tended by the healer and sent home to recuperate. He would not be going to a Gathering, or anything else for a long time.

He had, of course, told his family, and he and his wife had cried. Drii cried too...but still he had doubts. He knew his brother, better even than his parents, he would not count him out yet. Besides, demons lied; everyone knew that.

As it was, Chilldon had almost been right. Even Saber did not know how close he had come to dying those hellish few days, as he lay sleeping in the grass by the stream. He had slept for a very long time as his body recovered. When he awoke, he was ravenous, his malnourished body demanding food and this time he could oblige. He had lost weight already, and his loincloth would not stay on. He finally gave up on it. Who was there to see him anyway?

Saber took several days recovering from the ordeal. He stayed mostly by the little stream that had saved his life, and ate mostly fruit, berries, the few plants he knew for sure to be safe. And he did slowly recover.

He had started to explore the beach, marveling at the strange things on it: the seaweed, and the shells, even the sand itself. He had never felt anything like it before, as if millions of tiny, tiny rocks had been dumped here by a miniature race. He had found some deadwood, broke off a piece strong enough to work, and used a sharp shell that his foot had discovered to sharpen it into a new spear. He had been able to catch some fish to cook using it.

Mostly he sat on a rock that was almost seat-shaped, and looked out on the waves. This never ceased to amaze him, and he was hardly in a condition to have appreciated it when he staggered from behind the rocks to discover the salty sea. He had never seen so much strange water in his life. And the smells! Fresh smells, like the cleanest air in the world. Almost like the smells before a rain, but with its own smell, from the salt in the water, and the seaweed, and the creatures in the sea.

He had heard stories of great ships that traveled on these seas, like the little boats he made of paper and sealed with wax to play on the streams of his valley. Nenda had told him of pirates, villains of these seas that plundered and stole from the seaside villages. It sounded frightening. and he vaguely hoped there were none here, but it also sounded exciting. He wondered what is was like, living on the water like that.

Finally, it was time to move on. He had been there a long time, and was feeling the urge to continue his long journey. He was lost though, this he knew. He knew which way was south, and new the general direction of his home, but he also knew that he was many, many miles away from it.

As he became stronger, regaining his health, he had found the trees whose bark he had been using for his journal, and fashioned a writing stick. He had much to write about and had filled many pages. He had also been able to figure out how many days he had missed in his writing, and so knew when it was. It was still summer, middle summer, but he had a feeling that it would not be summer any longer by the time he got home. In addition, he had a stop to make. He had promised his little brother he would bring his hintrin blanket back to him, and he intended to. All of his belongings were back at the massive animal-fortress where the strange warriors had once lived.

His scant clothing again fitting him well, Saber gathered his journal pages, his spear, and his writing stick and set off once more.

Weeks passed, and they were lonely, difficult weeks for the young boy. As he moved farther and farther along the beach, the ground became rockier, and the vegetation became more sparse. He came across streams here and there, and was able to catch enough to eat, but as he went along, there was less wood to use as a fire. He had taken to eating the fish raw. He knew that his people could eat most fish as such, although it was not too pleasant. He always hated the taste of raw fish

Another thing that bothered him was that he was going the wrong way. This vast water-land had crossed his path so to speak, and that was where he had to go to get home. He did not know what an ocean was, as the word he had always heard was "sea", but this was what had once been called the Pacific. Thanks to thousands of years of existence, and shifting of faults, and deepening of ocean caverns and the like, there was no land on the planet that could not be accessed by foot. Some were five foot deep waterways; some were shallow water trickles, and some ands had even crashes together, creating new mountain ranges. But still, to reach these passages, one had to travel a long way. Saber had quite a journey ahead of him to get home.

Part 19: The Nai

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